I awake early on Sunday morning, having gone to bed early the night before in preparation of my first day at Church. Of course I have entered Churches before, on those obligatory, mundane school service days, just before Christmas and Easter when you are marched down to the local Church to be reminded of why you have the holiday in the first place.
Memorable encounters aside I have never participated in any Church activities and have questioned the existence of a God for as long as I have been able minded enough to understand the full meaning of religion and its implications. Amidst the propagated news, extremist believes and sensational miracles I am not wanting to question the validity of any religion or its beliefs but instead to meet the people and experience the music that is involved in the most ancient of clubhouses.
City Church Leeds, overlooking Headingley Lane is my destination. I arrive at quarter past ten to say hello to as many members of the congregation as possible before the weekly service commences at half past ten. The gothic design of the Church combined with its placing on the higher banking of the street gives it a sense of foreboding and I am certain that upon my ascent of the concrete steps to the main entrance a chilling gust was hurtled down from the spire to try and warn me off.
My own superstitions apart I was greeted at the front door by Pam and Polly, as were the names on their chest badges, in a welcoming and reserved manner. Polly took me inside and introduced me to the Head of Administration for the Church, Andrea Town. I thought it strange to have a Head of Administration or indeed such a title for the position, but if you are going to petition the Lord with prayer you had better make sure someone is taking notes. Andrea Town had been my first point of contact within this Church and had eagerly encouraged me to come along and see it for myself. In turn she introduced me to Brian Chiyesu. Chiyesu is the only full-time employee of the church and although he shrugs at the idea of the church having one leader, he does admit to being the main driving force behind the pastoral section of the group. Chiyesu was understandably curious to know the nature of my writing, so after putting his mind at ease over the innocence of my article he gladly ushered me into the Church and sat me down in a quiet corner where I could observe without getting in the way or causing a distraction.
The interior of the Church stands in stark contrast to the exterior and if it were not for the shapely ceiling I would have found it hard to believe I was in the same building. Plain, style-less windows, flaky plastering and children’s crayon montages speckle the dirty cream walls. On a stage at the front raised half a foot from the floor a five-piece band begins to tune-up. A drummer, a bassist, a singing guitar player and a two-piece brass section were all plugged into microphones and amps, making me wonder about my impending foray into the world of religious music. I had previously been quite sure that I was to be met by a choir and an antique organ.
With the band ready, the congregation took their seats and Mark Kelly (if you ever attend a service at the church Kelly is the gentleman with an undeniably canny resemblance to Simon Pegg) bounced onto stage, microphone in hand. There are no robes or gowns in this Church, no Sunday best. The lack of formality had an impact on me straight away. From the time it took meeting everyone, to Kelly giving me a hearty smile and an almost raucous hello, every pre-conception I had of a British Church had been blown out the water.
Kelly did not waste any time and tore straight into the first song. The band accompanied and everyone got up on his or her feet. The children ran around waving colourful flags in some sort of demented semaphore exhibition and I stood, rather awkwardly, clapping my hands with little conviction and even less rhythm. To aid those of us who were unfamiliar with the lyrics the church has invested in a projector linked to a computer operated by a willing member of the congregation. The lyrics being played out are shown changing colour in accordance with the melody. The music itself was in a similar style to any mellow pop composition and the band were quite a tight unit with the brass section stealing the show as far as instrumentation went. The bassist stood all too humbly in the background with a look of someone about to take centre stage and rip our faces off with a splattering of some brutal funk. Being a devote Christian he showed true restraint.
We hurtled through two tracks of fairly generic Christian sentiment, and then, as the band hushed to a soft broken beat, the children paraded out, Kelly began an open-mic session. He kicked it off by paying thanks to God and expressing positive feelings about his spiritual connection with Lord Jesus Christ. Just as it started to feel a little strange a member of the congregation approached him. Initially I thought okay this person is going to grab hold off the reigns before it all gets out of hand. But no, this person was merely up for their turn. Kelly readily summed up his devotion and handed the microphone over. Mrs Kate Casey took the floor and relayed the meaning of a certain passage of one of the songs, giving her own take on the lyrics, before announcing ‘Praise our Lord Jesus Christ’. This five-word sentence marked a significant moment for me, maybe not the words but the reaction to them. Thus became a moment when I would either turn and run, never daring to look back or stay and maintain within myself. For upon hearing these five words, completely random members in the crowd started hollering their approval and agreement, in the same vein as the American Evangelist, but in a distinctively English way, not necessarily more reserved but with more genuine conviction.
I had taken my seat midway through the second song and had been rooted to it throughout the open floor moments, but now as the band kicked back into a strong new wave of Bible pop I had more serious flashing urges to leave. Obviously I did not, and I feel I showed true grit and resolve to weather the storm in a hope of it either simmering down or to melt into a surreal Waco type incident. As the music continued, the man and his clarinet were jamming away in soft dulcet jazz and various members taking to the floor to sing or to fully embrace and humble themselves before their Lord. My mind wandered, and I began to think of all the dodgy nightclubs I have been to and all the pissed up pill-heads chewing their faces off until their gums bleed, the rock concerts with baggy jean-clad boys beating the life out of one another in the mosh pit and I realised that, in this place on this day, I was the odd one out. I was the guy floundering without a relationship with God and this mad Sunday morning hootenanny was something I could never fully understand without it. I had to calm myself and take heed of my own beliefs and my reasons for having or not having them. Resolute that I was just feeling insecure at being surrounded by so many strong believers the music finally ended allowing time for a short coffee break. Sarah Ayers, a long-standing member of the congregation came over and began to throw a lot of questions at me of my perception of the service thus far. Reluctant to give answers that may offend and seeing as we were only halfway through I made my excuses and headed to the toilet to rediscover my objectivity.
The second half of what I will now refer to as The Show was far more in-keeping with any non-descript social committee meeting. A select few members got up and relayed updates and news on the plethora of side projects the church is involved with. Then we had some more open-mic, but this time for prayers, supplemented with projected PowerPoint prayer topic guidelines. After such a booming start The Show gradually ground to a halt signified by the collection envelopes being passed in.
The following afternoon I returned to chat with Chiyesu in a more relaxed and altogether level playing field. I learned that the Church, although part of a bigger conglomerate known as Together (www.together.com), prided itself on its autonomy and took great pride, or a suitable Christian alternative to pride, in the city of Leeds. Suitably their slogan is the acronym Loved Equipped Empowered Devoted Sent. Fairly self explanatory, the group are involved in a wide array of activities within the city from crisis counseling for people who have had traumatic pregnancies, to helping with schools and hospitals. The music is fully integrated into the religion, and the in-house band is comprised of members of the congregation, anyone who is interested is encouraged to get up and join in. There is football team who presumably wields the true hand of God, and they even have a mini ministry for the kids.
When I spoke to Chiyesu about the more theological ideals attached to their Church he was eager to stress the point of ‘freedom not bondage’ the idea that each individual within the congregation had experienced a spiritual connection with God and this is what they were celebrating. Not the common rule of one book, but the shared unspecified experience of having once had a spiritual void within them filled by a connection with God. Chiyesu was keen to point out that during their work outside of the Church they do not try and convert people but by being Christian - Christ like, they set a certain level of example that they hope will enrich those who feel the benefits of it.
The philosopher Samuel Coleridge once wrote, ‘Christianity is not a theory or speculation, but a life; not a philosophy of life, but a living presence.’ And this is exactly what the Leeds City Church live up to. In a diverse congregation of ages, races and genders they are the most accommodating bunch of people I have ever met. Everyone had a moment for me to have a chat and to my surprise I met an author, Ian Raynes (The Biggest Issue) and an up-and-coming Hip Hop star, Testament (www.myspace.com/homcut). Both again had reasons poles apart for becoming Christians but shared the same outlook as to why they were.
Leaving Chiyesu after he kindly dropped me off at my house, I began to think that they were good people, or rather good examples of people. Their strength is derived from their unflinching commitment to God, but I feel this is also their greatest weakness. For was it not Plato who stated ‘tragedy is the man who believes he has all the answers.’ Although Chiyesu made it clear that he does not believe he has all the answers, his faith in God robs him of that problem. Human beings are emotional and require uncertainty to maintain their power of thought, the power that separates us from all the other animals on the planet and by restricting it in such a severe way as to vehemently believe in one way and one way only almost raising the blinkers to anything outside of that seems to be a very volatile situation. Which as the world gets progressively less religiously orientated could see these fine examples of mans better nature left in a bizarre time warp.
I noticed that the congregation is led through the power of its music - not necessarily its musical innovation but for the function of celebration. Although the individual members have their own tastes outside of the Churches realm, they seem to be unified by the music. They may not have written it, but they certainly appear to relish in playing and singing along with it. Although it is relatively formulaic in its composition, accompanying the lyrical content with music this heart-felt cannot fail to liven up the proceedings. This modernisation of worship has rejuvenated Church proceedings far away from my pre-conceptions of the sombre, drolling stereotype.
If you fancy changing your perceptions on Christian music, the congregation meets up every Sunday at ten thirty. If you are genuinely curious and have questions you want answering go along and have a look and a listen, you never now you might even find the big fella.
