Jesus is often depicted as a sanitized, safe figure—his radical message diluted by centuries of tradition. This version of Jesus seems to bless the powerful, overlook societal excesses, and comfortably fit within our cultural and religious norms, making little impact on our daily lives.
Yet beneath these layers lies the wild Messiah—a transformative figure who embodies a Kingdom that radically overturns conventional expectations. This Jesus is not content with the status quo. He flips tables in the temple, dines with outcasts, confronts the rich, and champions the poor. His Kingdom stands in stark contrast to the empires of his time and ours, revealing a love so fierce that it led him to sacrifice his life for both friend and foe. This wild Messiah is deeply biased towards the marginalized, offering a radical welcome to those who are often cast aside by society.
This Kingdom of compassion and inclusion challenges both secular and sacred systems. It is a place where the last are first, and where every soul, regardless of their past or present struggles, is embraced with an unconditional love. This profound and unyielding compassion is not merely a teaching but a way of life that Jesus lived out daily.
I vividly recall the moment when this wild Messiah’s call reached me. Picture a young man sitting outside, a pipe in hand—not a crack pipe, just tobacco. Amid the swirl of smoke and the quiet of the backyard, I prayed. To my surprise, I heard a voice—not audible, but unmistakably clear: “Jon, go and be a servant of the church.” I took this as the voice of Jesus, the wild Messiah, calling me into a missional and ecclesial adventure.
This wasn’t just a nudge; it was a wake-up call that redirected my life. It led me to study for ordained ministry in the Church of England and pursue a research degree in Biblical Studies. After four years, I returned to Leeds to begin my curacy at St. George’s Church. But it was a simple, heartfelt prayer that set the stage for what was to come: “Lord, bring across my path those who have been smashed up by life, and help me to love them with the love of Jesus.”
In the following months, this prayer was answered in countless ways. Whether at the library, on the streets, or even during a family holiday, I encountered those in deep distress and felt compelled by love to offer hope and share the good news of Jesus. Lives were transformed, including my own. There is no darkness so dark that the love of Christ cannot shine.
At that time, several vulnerable adults with complex needs began attending St. George’s Church—a large city center resource church primarily catering to middle-class individuals and students. I remember a sermon where the preacher casually mentioned, “When I was golfing in Spain.” These words resonated with those who golf, have been to Spain, or are planning a holiday. Such language, culturally encoded, draws in a particular demographic. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this—it’s how language and culture work—these words can also alienate those who don’t share that culture, making them feel like outsiders.
Another instance comes to mind: we had set up for an Alpha introductory evening, complete with jazz musicians, low lighting, fancy food, tablecloths and tealights. It was a beautifully arranged event, designed to appeal to the middle class. Yet, a member of the street community walked in, took one look around, and said, “This isn’t for me—it’s too posh.” And he was right. While the team was welcoming, the cultural encoding of the evening unintentionally excluded those on the margins.
Cultural encoding goes beyond tablecloths or golfing stories; it encompasses language, assumed literacy, music styles, ways of praying, and levels of interaction. It made me question: What does church and Christian community look like when designed for adults with multiple and complex needs?
This question planted the seed for Lighthouse—a church plant and fresh expression of church embeddded within St. George’s Church, designed to be culturally encoded, welcoming, and relevant for vulnerable adults. A small team, including the newly appointed Crypt Chaplain, approached the CEO of St. George’s Crypt with our vision in 2013. After hearing our plans, he said, “Go for it. We’ve been praying for this for ten years.” And so we did, serving soup, offering kindness, and proclaiming the love and light of Jesus every Sunday.
This year, we celebrate a decade of Lighthouse, a Leeds-based community committed to offering hope and light to those battered and bruised by the storms of life. It’s a church for those struggling with homelessness, mental health issues, addiction—a community for those who feel pushed to the margins of society. Lighthouse stands as a testament to collective effort—paid staff, dedicated volunteers, and supporters who contribute through prayer and financial donations. We are thankful for our partnerships across the city, including the Diocese of Leeds, St. George’s Crypt, St. George’s Church, Leeds City Mission, Unity in Poverty Action, and Horsforth Shed. Thank you.
Lighthouse is not a mainstream church. It is a sanctuary for the lost, the broken, and the marginalized—a place where the wild Messiah’s message of radical love and acceptance is embodied and lived out. We provide Christian worship, compassionate pastoral care, authentic community, and day center provision—a safe space where all can move towards lives of dignity, meaning, and purpose. We welcome 80-100 people each Sunday, and about 150 individuals consider Lighthouse their church. Love transforms lives, and hope walks among us—the presence of the wild messiah and compasionate kingdom is tangible.
As I reflect on these ten years, I am both humbled and awed by the realization of my calling. I’m a wounded healer, a sinner saved by grace, a beggar directing others to where they can find bread. I am continually amazed by the transformation that has occurred—not through my own doing, but through the relentless, radical love of Jesus. The hero of this story is and always will be Jesus, the wild Messiah and God-Man. He leads us, heals us, and inspires us to extend his love to others.
- Rev’d Jon Swales, 2024
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