TO STEAL a famous line from Bruce Springsteen, “You can’t start a fire without a spark.” During the past couple of weeks, that spark has been provided by Adolescence, the heart-wrenching TV drama about Jamie Miller, a 13-year-old schoolboy who is arrested on suspicion of the murder of his classmate Katie, and the tragic complexity that then begins to unfold around his brutal crime (TV, 28 March).
Netflix’s four-part mini-series has fired, or reignited, debates about violence against women and girls, toxic masculinity, the criminal-justice system, the education system, bullying, smartphones, and what society does about the joy and curse of social media. Each of these conversations is essential. As a society, we cannot afford to leave any stone unturned. But, without removing anything of their significance, I want to explore a different discussion — one about time and purpose.
If Jamie was, rather than an extremely talented young actor, a 13-year-old who had actually committed a murder, he would have quite possibly eventually been sentenced by a court to Oasis Restore — the only Secure School in the UK, run in partnership between Oasis, the charity that I founded, and the Ministry of Justice (Analysis, 21 February). And, as I talk with the young people whom we serve, I find some common denominators played out, time after time, in different ways, in the lives of all.
Children spell love “t.i.m.e.” — time! Time is our most expensive commodity, and the most powerful tool in any adult’s possession. Whether at home, in school, or elsewhere, every young person craves being seen, feeling safe, and being listened to. A child values the presence of their parents far more than their presents. The gift of time forms the most important protective layer that we can surround any young person with. And, whether it is in my work with children at Oasis Restore, or with those at risk in other contexts around the country, a common denominator is that, for one reason or another, this has been missing.
And then there is that missing sense of meaning and purpose. As it has been said, “There are only two important days in your life: the day you are born, and the day you find out why.”
LET me tell you my story. I was 14, and I had fallen in love with — or at least I was infatuated with — Mary. She went to the local posh school. She was smart. I wasn’t. So, I attended a different one, where, as I was often reminded: “You’re the kind of kid who’ll spend your life working with your hands, not your head.”
I discovered that every Friday night, however, Mary went to a church youth club. So, using my head, I joined, too, and attended for months, before my hopes of a life with Mary were finally crushed by her rejection of my advances.
Walking home that sad night, I faced an existential question. Rejected by the girl who gave my future meaning, was there any point in the rest of my life? From my school, I already felt as if the answer to that question was “No”, but, as I had got to know the leaders of that Friday-night club, I had somehow absorbed a very different message. “You are created by God,” they said. “Your life has huge purpose and potential.”
That was it: my mind was made up. Even if Mary wasn’t interested in me, I was going to keep going to that youth group. I liked their message, and, even more, their attitude. What is more, if all that I had heard was true, it seemed to me that the only response I could possibly make was to be all in. So, I would be a Christian, and, when I grew up, become a church leader, and, more than that, I would set up a school that taught young people that their lives counted; and a house — a place of safety for children who’d never been shown that they mattered by anyone; and a hospital — a place of care and restoration, health and healing, for all, when they needed it.
This was my unexpected, and unsought, moment of epiphany — of spiritual awakening. On that night, wandering aimlessly home, the view that I had of myself as a useless irrelevance was swept away, and my life was supplied with the God-given gift of purpose. I felt that my small story had been caught up into this huge story. And, though I had very little understanding of what any of this really meant, I knew that it changed everything.
Although the many years since have been filled with the usual amount of struggle and pain, as well as the joy of service, the truth remains: since that night, I have always had the gift of knowing where my true north lies, and it is that which has energised, and given me focus across the decades.
SPIRITUALITY is recognised in the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child as a basic human right. But, while there is growing recognition that spiritual health is a vital ingredient of overall human well-being, we still have, at the same time, little consensus at either a popular or academic level about exactly what it consists of.
For those like me, spirituality is synonymous with my commitment to a historic faith, while for many others it is entirely independent of any formal religious tradition. As the 2021 census showed, the population of the UK is a super-diverse mosaic in both its religious and non-religious beliefs, commitments, and cultures — a trend that is constantly increasing.
But, however we choose to define or describe spiritual health, study after study points to the way in which it plays a critical part in the development of a person’s authentic sense of meaning and purpose. It provides a vital key to good mental health and well-being, to establishing and maintaining resilience, to dealing with crisis and trauma, to the quality of relationships with family, friends, and wider community, and to the discovery of a cause beyond our own interests.
Of course, it must also be said that the evidence is that, as pivotal as any crisis eureka moment may be in the development of spirituality, it is never enough. Just as important is belonging, being known, being in community, and in the service of others. It is in these more ordinary day-to-day settings that we are nurtured. For me, that happened through all the hard work and — back to that word again — time that those church youth workers gave me, both before and beyond my life-changing journey home, as I told them my dreams, and they supported me.
If we are really going to avail ourselves of the moment that Adolescence has provided us with as a nation, besides the debates about violence, the manosphere, the education and justice systems, smartphones and social media, the ones we really can’t afford to ignore are those about relationships, time, meaning, and purpose.
And, as part of this, I believe it’s time that our culture found the courage to create the space for a national conversation about the relationship of spirituality to emotional, social, and mental health, and, therefore, to social change. Why? Because to continue to exclude this from our public discourse amounts, in my view and experience, to nothing less than an act of self-deception. Or, to put it all differently, “You can’t start a fire without a spark.”
The Revd Steve Chalke is the founder of the Oasis group of charities.
