St Bartholomew the Great, London.
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In the corner of the courtroom was a beautiful stained-glass window. It was dedicated to a former judge of the court, and simply read “Praise God” underneath. During the week I spent in that room I would regularly look up at this window and seek solace in it, repeating the Lord’s Prayer to myself as I listened to an army of men in suits speak legalese.
I was there, at the Court of Appeal, to fight an Electoral Commission fine of £20,000 for alleged irregularities during the referendum. The case had propelled me to a sort of notoriety, and had I lost this appeal, it would have ruined me – both financially and professionally.
It was the culmination of a long journey. A few years ago, in my early twenties, I would have called myself a staunch libertarian and atheist. I thought that religion was just a form of coercion and control, and to believe in some mystical pixie in the sky – when science has explained away any need for the divine – made you a deluded fool at best.
Fast forward to 2018, and aged 25, I had become a churchgoer, attending a service each week in which robed choristers processed through clouds of pungent incense. Here, within the walls of what had been a medieval priory and hospital, I witnessed the elevation of the gilded King James Bible above the priest’s head and listened to the sung Latin of the liturgy.
It was Twitter, of all things, which had brought me to God. As my public infamy grew, my phone would go ping-ping-ping, as message after message flashed up with the vilest abuse, much of it dripping with homophobia. There were endless variations on me going to prison and what would be done to me there. I don’t know if these twitterers would have said the same to me in person, but this was the internet, the context was Brexit and so all bets were off.
As the saga dragged on, I lost friends, relationships and income. I felt isolated and helpless. There was a great deal of anger and shock over the referendum, which I understood, but it was strange, as a student from a working-class background in the north-east, to be in the public glare.
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SubscribeHow refreshing to hear your testimony. I hope you are right and that there is an increasing awareness of the ultimate futility of the atheistic world view and a realisation of the need for true meaning That Christ offers through his unique gift of grace
Thanks for sharing your story, Darren. I just looked up Father Walker on Twitter. Will have a read of his feed. All best.
A moving story – and a beautiful church.