Culture, Faith and hot & Cold Milk
I’ve often found that culture and faith collide in interesting places. Not in the big dramatic moments necessarily, but in the small things — conversations over coffee, I love connecting over coffee , long journeys, shared meals and the people who walk alongside us. The older I get, the more I realise that faith was never meant to be lived in isolation. It grows in community.
Blue Sky itself was born from one of those difficult seasons of life. Deborah and I had walked through a period where we felt bruised and disappointed by experiences within church life. Like many people discover, churches are filled with wonderful people… and wonderful people are still people and people hurt people.
Time has given me a fresh perspective. I genuinely believe that even where things hurt, most people act from a place of good intention and good heart. We all carry our own pressures, our own blind spots and our own humanity including the failings. Grace becomes much easier to give when you realise that none of us are the finished article.
Rather than becoming cynical, we felt God stirring something different in us. What if we could create a place where people who had been hurt, overlooked or simply felt they no longer fitted somewhere could belong again? Not a place of perfect people pretending to have everything together,God forbid but a church of second chances. A family table with a few extra chairs pulled up, you know the type of chairs that only come out when there are too many people, the odd chairs, the stools, the study chairs that don’t quite fit under the table.
That became Blue Sky.
I’ve also learned that mentors matter. Every person needs someone ahead of them who can help navigate the road. Deborah and I have been incredibly blessed by our friendship with Neil Elliott — trustee, former Head of Broadcasting at UCB, travel companion and trusted voice in my life.
Neil and I have shared many miles together, and travel has become one of those unexpected places of “Selah” for me — that beautiful biblical idea of pausing, reflecting and taking stock of the journey. Some of my clearest thinking hasn’t happened behind a desk or a pulpit, but on trains, in airports and over meals in unfamiliar places.
Although in Neil’s case, “over meals” occasionally becomes an adventure.
On one memorable trip to Morocco, Neil confidently ordered what he believed was a café latte. There was absolute certainty in his voice. The order was placed with conviction. A few moments later, he was presented with… a large glass of cold milk.
To this day I maintain that while Neil’s menu selections can occasionally be suspect, his life advice remains remarkably sound.
Humour aside, I’ve learned something important from hanging out with Neil. Good mentors don’t create dependency; they create growth. They invest in people and then cheer when those people go further than they ever did themselves.
I’ve tried to carry that into my own life. I want to pay it forward and invest in others because I genuinely believe you’ve never really succeeded until you’ve been succeeded. My heart isn’t to build followers; it’s to see others soar — to go higher, faster and further than I ever managed.
Paul writes in 2 Timothy 2:2: “And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable people who will also be qualified to teach others.”
That’s the kingdom model. Receive, invest, release.
I see that spirit in some of the friendships and partnerships around Blue Sky too. Our links with YMCA and WALK Ministries, serving ex-prisoners and people rebuilding their lives from addiction, have been a constant reminder that everyone has a story and everyone deserves hope. I don’t think Jesus ever looked for polished people. He looked for willing hearts.
And while I’m giving credit where it’s due, I couldn’t finish without talking about Deborah.
She has faced challenges that many people never see, and yet she continues to rise. Around Blue Sky people often describe her as the “mother of the house”, and I think that’s exactly right. She carries people, notices people, prays for people and somehow quietly creates belonging wherever she goes.
life has taught me that while adventure is important, so is familiarity. We need both. We need the unexpected moments that make us laugh and the steady rhythms that quietly anchor us.
Neil may have accidentally become the man who ordered cold milk in Morocco, but Deborah has her own milk tradition. Without fail, most evenings end with a mug of hot milk and a digestive biscuit. There is something strangely reassuring about it. The world can feel noisy, fast-moving and complicated, but some things remain wonderfully familiar.
I suppose that’s true of faith as well.
Not faith in the sense of having every answer or getting everything right, but faith as a place of warmth and rest. A place you can return to. A place where you can exhale.
“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.” — Psalm 23:2–3
Maybe culture and faith meet there too; somewhere between the cold milk moments that make us laugh and the warm milk moments that remind us we are home.
The truth is, culture isn’t built by slogans on walls or clever vision statements. It’s built by ordinary people showing extraordinary grace over and over again.
Maybe that’s what Blue Sky has always been trying to become.
Not perfect people.
Just people making room for other people.
