Biscuits, begonias & God's grace in East London

We've lived in the same part of London for almost ten years, and we love it - but not because it's always lovely.

As Luther wrote in the Heidelberg disputation, there is a kind of love that goes outward and creates loveliness, rather than responding to the innate condition of the object itself. It is a kind of love that is unique to God Himself, a love that goes out and rescues from the muck what anyone else would just throw away. It’s the love that rescued us, and the love we are trying to show here where we live.

Originally we moved here as part of my ministry, but as life evolved and shifted, and when we could have moved away, we prayed fervently to stay. God answered our prayer. And really, nothing dramatic has happened since then; scattering seeds is a good way to describe what we are trying to do. Reaping a rich harvest? Not so much. Or at least not yet.

The people next door

Having said that, we have been mightily blessed. Every Christmas and most Easters we take biscuits to our neighbours. It’s always an interesting experience: one friend comes to the door with a spliff hidden behind his back (luckily the kids don’t notice); another has just got out of the shower and comes wrapped in a towel (much to the kids’ amusement!); another “would invite us in” except that he’s busy “cleaning” (drinking).

On the other hand, our neighbours across the road - old East Enders - await our call and have gifts all ready and wrapped for the children. We might well be a while on their doorstep, but if we’re honest, it’s hard to get a word in edge-ways, let alone share the gospel.

Come Ramadan, our Muslim neighbours have now begun returning the favour - in the form of a whole meal’s worth of beautiful Bengali dishes. Dinner sorted!

'Roses' and 'thorns' in our corner of East London

We have learned that it is very easy to see nothing but the thorns here, while if you look closely there are many roses, too: the fly-tipped mattresses randomly chucked in front of a garden full of beautiful begonias; the less-than-savoury smells broken up by the star jasmine someone has taken the time to train over their gate. The other night there were young men on mopeds circling the block and trying to snatch delivery bikes and phones. A passer-by stood with one young Just Eat courier until they left, and another woman made his delivery for him in her car. Depravity and common grace, criminality and neighbourly care, standing right next to each other.

God is at work

I think these contrasts are everywhere, but they are very obvious where we are. We could easily give in to the cynicism that pervades this city, to the tutting and the eye-roll. “Classic London,” we say. It’s just more sophisticated, less naïve (or shall we call it streetwise?) to focus on the depravity. Opening our eyes to the pain and hope of God’s grace at work all around us is sometimes harder. We think we’re getting somewhere and then seed is snatched away, or people just move on.

When they started dealing "Fastgas" (nitrous oxide) on our road, at the beginning I gave them my best disapproving face. Funnily enough it didn’t make any difference. My husband decided to flip the switch and greet them with a smile. Was I worried that if we were kind, they might take that as tacit approval of what they are up to? We are middle-class white people with two small people – the disapproval is a given. Reaching out in welcome, on the other hand, is not. Since then, my husband has chatted with them about our dog, and they recognise him when they see him; a tiny chink has opened in a door that seemed firmly closed. God is faithful.

PfE women is an everyday evangelism series written by women in Passion for Evangelism - an organisation committed to empowering, equipping, and encouraging women to share the good news of Jesus.