By Andrew Irwin, Juicy Ecumenism. (Image: Unsplash)
“It is winter in Narnia and has been for ever so long … Always winter, but never Christmas,” the faun Mr. Tumnus responds to the despair of Lucy Pevensie in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Haunting, beautiful, and powerful imagery that author C.S. Lewis used to describe life in Narnia under the White Witch. Imagery that I loved, but will now confess, I had never really understood, until God called me to minister in the place that is now home.
Winter is not simply the weather; it is the horizon of possibility in which spring is no longer possible, and the hope of new beginnings has been buried under winter snow.
Even though I am from the countryside, I have always loved the city. In the last four years of my life, as I have had the privilege of ministering in North Belfast, I have begun to wrestle with the poverty of hope; a poverty born when the imagination is buried because of the heavy snow of the lasting winter. Indeed, this city has shaken in the last few months as violence spilt onto the streets and old fears, anger, and wounds were pushed to the surface, and even now, as different people try to exploit fear for their political advantage rather than foster the new beginnings of true hope. Old wounds have been opened, but they do not sit in isolation, nor have they been opened because of one event. The weight of winter has grown in this city through generations of fractured relationships, limited opportunity, trauma, neglect, and the weakening of the church in the places that need it the most.
I love where I have been called to serve, and I want to be careful – there is much richness and life to be experienced in a place like this that cannot be known in different contexts. This is not a place defined by lack, nor is the challenge that people face a set verdict on those who inhabit these streets. There are homes full of love, resilience, humour, loyalty, generosity, faith, and determination. Yet, the experience of poverty seems to shape what is believable and what is attainable. How could it not? When people have lived through generations of instability and every institution has disappointed them to the point of neglect and the stain of violence spills out onto the streets in an almost regular rhythm – hope becomes a luxury.