Choral Evensong to mark the 80th Anniversary of Christian Aid - The Revd John Plant, National Church Relationship Lead at Christian Aid - 11 May 2025

Just after Easter, we go to Sweden with the grandchildren.
The days are longer then and warmer, but there’s still snow for skiing.

One night, we go with our oldest grandchild to a hut that can only be reached by skis. There’s no electricity or running water—everything has to be carried on a sledge pulled by Grandad!

It’s become something he loves. It feels wild and remote. There’s only one room with bunks and a simple kitchen. A wood-burning stove provides heat, and the first task on arrival is to head to the woodshed, cut wood, and light the fire. As darkness falls, we light candles and talk about wolves and bears.

The stove must be kept alight all night because, even at Easter, the temperature drops quickly. It’s amazing how much wood you need—and of course, adding logs every couple of hours is another task for Grandad.

Lying on a bunk in your sleeping bag, with the fire crackling, you can feel the cold being pushed back and the warmth filling the room.

If you have young children or grandchildren, you know they wake early! In the quiet of the morning, we find ourselves looking at photos from previous trips, remembering what it was like, and telling the story of what we did before.

This retelling feels important—a way of connecting ourselves to the past and to one another. It’s not just remembering; it’s repairing and renewing.

As I thought about this, I was reminded of the voiceover from The Repair Shop:
“Have you got a treasured item that’s seen better days?”

In that programme, people bring their cherished possessions to be restored. But often, it’s not just the object that’s repaired—it’s the people themselves, as they reconnect with their past and the loved ones those objects represent.

The stories we tell—prompted by photos or treasured objects—reconnect us to our past and shape who we are in the present.

Lying in that bunk, with the fire needing another log and the cold pressing in, I couldn’t help but feel that our world has grown colder and more hostile in recent months. The grinding war in Ukraine. The catastrophic conflict in Gaza. The rise of nationalism. Leaders who seem able to say anything, act with impunity, and disregard the rule of law.

Eighty years ago this month, we emerged from a world war determined to build a better world. The United Nations was created so we could do politics instead of war. The World Council of Churches, another institution born in that moment, advocated for the sacredness of all life. From that came the Universal Declaration of Human Rights—legal protections to prevent genocide and extermination.

It was in this same spirit that Christian Aid was founded—an agency enabling churches to put faith into action. It began by delivering emergency aid to refugees in Europe, including Palestinians.

For 80 years, British churches have stood alongside some of the world’s poorest communities—those affected by humanitarian crises, climate chaos, and economic inequality.

Last year, Christian Aid raised £83 million, supporting 260 partners globally and reaching 19.3 million people. Of those, 3.1 million had their humanitarian needs met—in Gaza, South Sudan, Ukraine, and many other places.

In a recent joint appeal with DEC colleagues, Christian Aid raised more than much larger organisations like Oxfam. That’s the power of the churches.

As churches, we often underestimate our power. We forget that the stories shaping our understanding of the world—and of who we are called to be—offer an extraordinary vision of hope.

The stories of Jesus we hear week by week—like the Good Samaritan—challenge those who promote division and hate. They challenge those who exploit fear and greed.

I’ve been fortunate to visit some of the communities Christian Aid supports, including in Latin America. This year, the focus is on Guatemala.

Christian Aid works in the poorest communities, and I’ve often thought, “In a moment, I’m going to meet ‘the poor.’” But whether in rural Latin America or shack settlements in Africa, I’ve only ever met people—ordinary, capable, and resilient.

In El Salvador, I met a young man who helped his community prepare for catastrophic floods caused by climate change. The church had been built above ground level, and when the warning came, families moved there with their valuables. He showed me a bag with everything he owned.

I realised how little stood between him and disaster—no credit card, no mobile phone, no bank account. When we say “the poor,” it’s better to say “the vulnerable”—those with few protections, few resources, little influence, and no one to defend them.

These are the people most vulnerable to climate change, corporate exploitation, and political corruption. They are largely invisible to the wider world.

The good news we proclaim is that God stands with the vulnerable.

Jesus was not born in a palace, chose companions who are ordinary and imperfect people, befriend sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes and the unclean. This was not accidental.

It reveals the choice that God has made to stand with those who are in greatest need.

Jesus’ story of the Good Samaritan invites us to make the same choice and in standing with those most vulnerable join the Godly presence and become the ones who repair and heal the world.

This purposeful solidarity means practical action. That’s why as churches, we created Christian Aid. So by working together we could maximise our impact.

We might do it through fund raising so that we can support projects that enable communities to become less vulnerable – to secure economic and legal protections.

It might also be by speaking out with those communities to advocate for change to the structures that keep people vulnerable or put them at risk – things like climate change which need to be tackled at a political level.

And it always means prayer – because in our prayer we bring ourselves into the Godly presence and stand together. Sometimes this might feel insufficient – often we feel powerless in the face of the challenges that face us. But prayer is critical.

Talking with Palestinian colleagues recently, they said that sense that they were not forgotten was so important – even when the possibility of change is so far off.

The stories we tell as churches remind us of the treasure that we have in earthen jars. The hope that lies within us. The audacious vision of a world shaped by love and mercy in which no one is vulnerable. A  world transformed by God – and a transformation process that God calls us to join.

80 years ago this vision enabled the churches to provide a crucial moral compass to guide those wanting to repair a world torn apart by war. Perhaps we thought that a commitment to a kinder, more inclusive and just world was secure but we were wrong, peace and justice are not inevitable.

In an increasingly hostile and divided world, with tyranny expanding, who will speak now for the vision of justice and hope that Jesus shared. Who will resist those who seek to divide and destroy?

A while ago, I might have stood here to thank you for all you do to support Christian Aid and encouraged you to continue to fundraise, speak out and pray with us. But today, amazing as that work is, it is no longer enough: we need to do more.

I believe once more, God is summoning us to speak and act prophetically to push back the cold and keep alight a warm fire of hope for those in greatest need.