I live my Christ-guided life as a series of paradoxes of which the most-commonly shared in the world-wide Church is the ‘now and not yet’ event that is the Kingdom of God. For me, another paradox is that the whole of Creation is sacred: I hold no distinction between the sacred and the mundane (a very Celtic way of expressing Creation). Yet I echo T.S.Eliot in ‘Little Gidding’ when he wrote of that country church ‘You are here to kneel / Where prayer has been valid.’; and I further hold there to be liminal places (sometimes referred to as ‘thin’) where heaven and earth brush in profound ways. I think St. Peter’s is a thin place.

So, how do I manage that paradox? In the case of our buildings, I must ask myself “Are we to be exclusive or inclusive?”. If inclusive, what does that mean? At the risk of digression, I have recently had a sharp learning curve in the reality of the parable of the Good Samaritan: ‘who is my neighbour’ became a very real issue for me. I think God showed me something beautiful through that experience. What I learned was no one is outside of God’s love, no one. It also reinforced my sense that God works at the margins of society.

What it really boils down to is – to what extent should we use our church buildings for ‘non-Christian’ events? It’s worth remembering that for the first three centuries, Christians met in public buildings (many church communities still do); and during the start of the heating crisis our bishop encouraged the Church to leave their buildings and meet in warmer spaces if necessary. Of course, the main point here is that the Church is the people not the buildings. Jesus, remember, said that our worship is ‘in spirit and in truth’ not in the buildings or trappings of religion.

In my view we offer our buildings: because we have a space that is not off-limits; as a result, people who would otherwise not set foot inside do so; those people may strike up the most fruitful conversations with the Christians who are mingling and serving; those who come see that we are people who like what they like. I had four unsolicited conversations that challenged peoples’ perceptions on Saturday evening, and I know I wasn’t the only one. I suspect some brought burdens in that they could leave or begin to shed. Jesus Christ is always at work, and he has called us to carry others burdens and to bring light in the darkness. The Northumbria Community Rule of Life is Availability and Vulnerability: that, I think, sums up my approach to these concerts and events.

Concerts make a significant contribution both to the maintenance of our buildings and also our mission and ministry. To those who would direct me to the action of Jesus in throwing the money-lenders out of the temple I would respond that those people were using the building to fleece the faithful, we are not. Further, I would ask what distinction there is between our Winter Market and a concert? Is the choice of event that one deems acceptable in fact down to personal taste?

Is there then a limit to what we should allow? Yes, of course. We are never going to allow a brothel in the building (okay, extreme maybe). Interestingly, we find that those we invite to perform are mindful of the place where they are. Lyrics are modified where appropriate, some songs are omitted from the repertoire; dress even, is carefully considered. In short, those who perform are respectful of the space. They also make social media comments like this from Andy Short, lead of Floyd in the Flesh:
‘Amazing show and the staff were brilliant with us, it's shows like that that make the long hours on site worth while.
Can't thank St Peter's Church and everyone associated with them enough for their accommodation of us and the opportunity to use their venue. I sincerely hope we can work with them again in the future!’
Wow!

Oh, and if you missed the sheer joy of Saturday night you can catch Floyd in the Flesh performing ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ at the Cathedral when the seven-metre moon display returns in November (ear-defenders optional). Here’s one of the verses from ‘Time’, a track on that album:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

– maybe on Saturday someone did find the way