Obscurity

‘The future is already here, it’s just not evenly distributed’ (attributed to science fiction author William Gibson). Nowhere is that more true than when you think of the subject of obscurity. Today, somewhere, some group of students or ex-students is hatching something that one day will be mainstream, part of the landscape. (Think Microsoft or Apple, which were startups one day. I believe Apple is worth more than all the FTSE 100 companies added together.)

The Christian Church has its fair share of that which is obscure becoming mainstream. Think of twelve in an upper room… or the handful of ‘enthusiasts’ called ‘Methodists’ in the early 18th century, or worldwide Pentecostalism (now 600m strong) tracing its roots back to some rustic, chaotic meetings in Los Angeles’ Azusa St or to Charles Parham’s Bible school in Kansas. Or think of Robert Morrison, early Protestant missionary to China, in 1807 having to take a ship from San Francisco because nothing from Europe was suitable, being asked by a shipping clerk, ‘So, Mr Morrison, do you expect to make an impression on the great Chinese Empire?’ ‘No sir,’ he replies, ‘I expect God will.’

The Bible mainlines on the obscure. Especially when twinned with faith. Think of the virgin Mary, a teen who believed, or Abraham, whose descendants became more numerous than the stars in the sky or the sand on the beach only because he believed what God said to him. Thousands or millions of other nomads passed into history: this one alone became revered as the father of many nations.

There is incredible romance here. I wonder if faith is largely the possession of the obscure. I wonder if there is some woman somewhere, packing her shopping in the cupboard, and then getting alone with God and trusting him for … what? a mass turning to Christ among Gen Z, for example, new churches in every town? Or some mass political change that opens a nation or a people to spiritual change? No-one will know her, but heaven will know her. The anonymous prayer-er, the unknown soldier.

Extend that even a little. What if there’s a clamour of prayer and faith rising from obscure people — as there is — day and night towards God. What if in that spray of prayer are droplets of mountain-moving faith? What if all that is shaping history as much as any of the documented historical events which (on this analysis) are merely the outworking, processed by God, of all that asking and believing, of all that straining towards heaven? There’s a hymn famous in some circles:

Wherever you ripe fields behold,
Waving to God their sheaves of gold,
Be sure some com of wheat has died,
Some saintly soul been crucified;
Someone has suffered, wept and prayed,
And fought hell’s legions undismayed. (A S Booth-Clibburn, There is no gain but by a loss.)