4 extraordinary churches

St Peter’s Barge

When Jesus commanded his disciples to “be fishers of men” (Matthew 4:19, ESV) I doubt he envisioned them doing so from an actual boat. Yet for those onboard the only floating church in London, that instruction is more than symbolism; it’s their reality.

Walking towards St Peter’s Barge in Canary Wharf, I was greeted by the noise of the pre-service chatter that signals community. I entered to find people sharing life before taking their seats to meet with God. Amid my scramble for an unoccupied seat, I found myself intruding in such exchanges – partly due to the small size of the boat. 

This may strike you as an obvious limitation, but such a constraint enables – if not encourages – a deeper level of intimacy with one another. The closeness goes beyond physical, it’s a warmth that makes the homeliness felt by the community there easy to understand. 

“The heart of the ministry was to reach the workers of Canary Wharf with the gospel,” says Marcus Nodder, senior pastor on the barge, reflecting on the vision that spurred the inception of this extraordinary Christian community in 2003.

When Jesus commanded his disciples to ‘be fishers of men’ I doubt he envisioned them doing so from an actual boat

Two nearby churches founded what began as a modest midweek ministry. Canary Wharf lacked a church building, and unreasonable rents meant they struggled to secure a permanent home. They drifted between wine bars and pubs which could accommodate their Bible studies and lunchtime talks for Christian workers in the area – until someone posed the idea: What about a boat?

An old freight barge was acquired from the Netherlands. Over the course of twelve months, it was refitted thanks to loans and donations before being sailed over to West India Quay. There it floats today, providing a space for office workers to worship, before going back to the high rises that surround it with the good news.

More than 120,000 people work in the Canary Wharf area today, a population mirroring that of the city God looks upon in the last verse of Jonah, asking: “And should I not have concern for the great city of Nineveh, in which there are more than 120,000 people who cannot tell their right hand from their left?” For Marcus, the parallel is apparent. “He sees people who are lost, who are heading for judgement as the people of Nineveh were, and they need a prophet to go to them with the gospel. The prophet is not me. The prophet is the frontline worker in these towers with them.”

In a district defined by towering structures synonymous with finance and ambition, the boat exists as a quiet reminder of a different calling – one mirroring the very nature of Jesus. Unconcerned with measuring up to the high-rises surrounding it, the barge serves to empower those within them. Workers board St Peter’s Barge as ambassadors of a Fortune 500 company and return as ambassadors of something far less ostentatious, yet infinitely more powerful – the kingdom of God. 

For more information see stpetersbarge.org

Kingdom Wrestling 

Kingdom Wrestling is the collision of two worlds. “This whole thing came about from a challenge I really felt from God to bring my faith into the world of professional wrestling,” says its founder, Gareth Thompson.

Wrestling had always been there for Gareth. Back-garden brawls with his brothers evolved into performing at packed-out shows. His faith story is just as impressive, as Gareth explains how God gave him the strength to forgive the person who abused him as a child. That moment became the catalyst for Gareth to go “all in” for God. 

He began working at Christians Against Poverty (CAP), and changed his wrestling persona to “Gareth Angel, the Divine Avenger.”

His two worlds began to bleed into each other. Scripture seeped into his moments on the mic. Prayers were exchanged with opponents before and after bouts. He’d be at work, helping someone out of debt, and the mention of wrestling would ignite interest. He would share his story and people came to faith. 

Then wrestlers started reaching out. Messages at 2am from fighters battling depression. Conversations with colleagues trying to save their marriages. The men he shared the ring with were seeking him out for pastoral care.

In 2018, Gareth launched Kingdom Wrestling, putting on wrestling shows that depicted his testimony. Wrestlers flew across the ring from the top rope and others were hoisted high onto shoulders and sent floorward. The first event, at a church in Harrogate, drew 150 people – more than any event they had held in eight years. Thirty people signed up for an Alpha course. Word spread and a church in Leeds opened their doors to Kingdom Wrestling and saw 500 people walk through them, with another 30 signing up for Alpha. 

Conventional church isn’t for everybody. Sometimes faith has to meet you where you are

Then Covid-19 hit. The pause made Gareth aware of how discipleship was absent in his ministry. He approached Fountain’s Church in Bradford, which had recently acquired an old nightclub, repurposing its space for Christian entrepreneurs and activities. “They had Christian yoga, Christian dance classes, so I said: ‘What about wrestling?’

“We thought, rather than just my testimony, let’s do David and Goliath. Let’s turn Bible stories into wrestling matches, then preach.”

Not every idea worked but they continued experimenting. Then people started requesting baptism. “So, we thought, well, let’s put a baptism pool at ringside and do baptisms as part of the service.”

Gareth shares this with an ease, innocently ignorant to just how radical ringside baptisms sound. But for a working-class kid from a council estate, this isn’t radical; it’s necessary. Conventional church isn’t for everybody. Sometimes faith has to meet you where you are. 

Now running out of St Peter’s Church in Shipley, doing everything from youth work and worship to wrestling shows, Kingdom Wrestling defies categorisation. Wrestling is the hook. Jesus is the message. 

For more information see kingdomwrestling.org

Rave Jesus

When King Topher, founder of Rave Jesus, told me of people receiving divine healing amid the chaos of thumping dance music and strobe lighting, I paused in awe, far longer than is professionally advisable for a journalist mid-interview.

At the conclusion of a recent show in California, a pastor approached Topher. “Dude, you won’t believe what happened,” he said. A woman with a herniated disc had been healed; another, with a long-standing lung condition, was now breathing freely. A mother who had been grieving the loss of her son for 18 months, trapped in a deep depression, had laughed and smiled for the first time in more than a year. And then, there was the woman with a deaf ear; as the worship dance music pulsed through the room and into her ear, it opened.

Rave Jesus merges two seemingly opposed worlds. Led by DJ King Topher and COO Romilly Lynn, the movement blends the club scene with worship, some tracks even featuring lyrics in tongues. “People are searching for something greater than themselves, a higher energy,” Romilly said. And it appears they’re finding it. 

The first Rave Jesus show was in Los Angeles – and sold out in eight hours. “I honestly thought this may be a total failure,” Topher admitted. “But when the tickets went that fast, I realised that there’s a desire for this.”

It’s no shame on church music, but it’s not going to reach the kids on the dance floor

For him and millions of others, dance music goes beyond powerful bass and beats. It’s a global language – one he has seen communicate with people in ways that traditional worship music simply can’t. “It’s no shame on church music, but it’s not going to reach the kid on the dance floor in China, or the people in Pakistan.” Having travelled the world playing at festivals, Topher has been made aware of places the Church isn’t welcome. “But music? Music can go anywhere.”

For stepping away from the conventional, Rave Jesus have been subject to criticism, with some even telling them they will go to hell for their spin on worship music. They remain unfazed. The fruit of their ministry speaks louder than the comment sections of their posts. In the glow of neon lights and the pulse of electronic worship, lives are changing. And as long as that continues, so will they.

For more information see ravejesus.com

Church in the Wood

Half-hidden down a mud track within the circular surroundings of Bramdean Common’s imposing trees, you’ll find a little green structure both crude and enchanting. A building that has withstood 142 harsh British winters, known simply as the Church in the Wood. 

In 1883, Rev Alfred Bishop built the structure for the gypsies and seasonal workers who occupied this village in Hampshire and had to travel an hour each way to reach the nearest place of worship. Almost a century-and-a-half later, traces of that history are still woven into the community.

“People come from all sorts of places, but a lot of them have a gypsy connection,” trustee James Stanley told me. “Some are charcoal burners or itinerant travellers; very often they have some connection from the past.” 

And then there are those drawn not by ties to heritage but by its novelty. “Here, you’ll find a lot of people who would not go to a conventional church because they find its nature too austere, too formal.” My understanding of the free-spirited nature of this church is consolidated when he describes instances of people arriving in muddy wellington boots, dogs trotting at their heels or, on occasion, even on horseback. 

People arrive in muddy wellington boots, dogs at their heels or, on occasion, even on horseback

This freeness enables an unpolished, honest expression of faith. During one service, as the congregation gathered in the wooded stillness, the church bell rope snapped. The bell, financed by a donation from the late Alfred Bishop’s wife in 1893, was to be rung before every service – now it hung silent. After the service, a man who had arrived late approached James. “I’m a builder,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

James mentioned the broken bell rope and without hesitation, the man returned the following Tuesday to fix it. Originally from San Francisco, he was visiting the area with his daughter. He had heard of the church before, and something had led him to come.

“That day, the reading had been about five loaves and two fishes – about miracles,” James reflected. “And I couldn’t help thinking: Well, that was our own little miracle, really.”

Yet, James’ pride in the church lies not in singular moments like this, but in its persistent longevity, and the curiosity it maintains. Independent of any denomination, supported by no official body, it is sustained by only its congregation. 

As the bell tolls through the trees, it calls out the same invitation it always has: Come as you are. 

For more information see upperitchenbenefice.org.uk/church-in-the-wood