Written by: Stefania Tarasut on December 17, 2013

Like most people, I did a little research on London before the advance. This was to be my first trip out of the country in twenty-four years. I left Romania when I was ten years old and never really wanted to go back to Europe until this opportunity came up. I waited twenty-four years to get my US citizenship and passport because I didn’t want to leave America. It sounds strange when I say it, but something shifted inside of me when our plane landed in New York in 1990. It’s almost as if I closed and locked the door to one life and opened the door to another.

I have very few memories of Romania. I blocked everything out in order to adjust to my new life in America. England was to be the first time that I would allow myself to remember what was. Though Romania and England are incredibly different, there is something that all Europeans have in common. It’s hard to put your finger on it, but you know it when you see it and when you feel it.

About five hours into the trip there was a woman sitting in the row next to me. She opened her bag and pulled out some bread, salami (not to be confused with pepperoni), butter, and a tomato. The smell of the salami spread around her and I automatically smiled to myself. There was something so familiar in that moment. There was a sense of home that came over me. It was unexpected, but it set the tone for the entire trip.

Arriving in London was chaotic, but the moment I stepped out of the terminal I felt a sense of familiarity that I’ve never experienced before. There was a sense of belonging and sameness that is completely different than what I’ve experience in America. I felt as if I was among “my people.” Doesn’t that sound strange? The way people dressed, and walked and talked reminded me of my family. Watching older women walking down the street reminded me of my great grandma. All of a sudden I was standing in a place where I felt more at home than in my own home.

Before I left for England, I did a little research on London and I found this quote that became the lens through which I saw the city. BBC One wrote an article about the old and new city of London and they said, “The square mile of London is in the midst of a colossal building boom. But the new buildings have a particular challenge- they have to stand on a city street plan that hasn’t changed in a thousand years.”[1]

What sparked your interest and passions at the advance?

It seems to me that London is the place where the old and new come together. It’s a place steeped in tradition and history, but fighting for its identity today. Tradition and the modern world are held in tension at every turn. How do you hold on to the history and identity while fighting for progress and change so that a history that was once exclusive turns into a melting pot of inclusivity and mutuality? It’s hard! It seems to me that London is one of those places that for better or worst, it has managed to hold the two in tension.

Nothing shows this more than our visit to Lloyd’s of London[2]. This 325-year-old institution is now housed in a modern building that took eight years to build. It stands across the street from what seems to be a church that has seen it’s surroundings change, but it stands unshaken.

Walking through the streets of London I thought about the stories that these building would tell if they could only talk. They have seen soo much history. They have seen soo much change, but they remain constant. They hold on to their traditions and their stories. Though the building itself might be repurposed, it’s beauty and story remains the same.

I felt a sense of awe as I walked around. I felt small in light of the history that was around me. It’s hard for my generation to really reflect on the past. We live as if the world began with us and it will end with us, but that’s not true. Long before I was born this city was formed. Long before I took my first breath, there were generations of people that lived and fought and built and died so that my life would be easier. I walk in the footsteps of those who lived long before me… and one day, there will be people walking in my footsteps. What will be my legacy? Will it last in the same way that these buildings have lasted, generation after generation?

What does all this mean for the church today? How does the church maintain its tradition and identity and yet survive in a constantly changing modern world? How do I as an immigrant live in America without loosing my identity and culture? How do you live in the tension of past and present? These are the questions that the advance stirred inside of me.

What these buildings represent is life, old and new. The streets of London haven’t changed in a thousand years, yet the face of London is completely different today than it was a thousand years ago. How does a city maintain its foundation, and yet change its face? How does the church maintain its traditions and change its face? How does an immigrant maintain her foundation in a new world?

Practice/ Application

Though I might realize it or not, I am the product of those who have gone before me. My life is built on a foundation that was laid before I was born and was handed down to me by my parents and grandparents. That history influences me whether I like it or not, especially in the way that I interact with my faith. Stanley Grenz says that, “we cannot read the Bible through the eyes unaffected by our own historical and cultural context.”[3] I want to take it a step further and say that we cannot live authentic Christian lives without understanding our unique history. This trip to London made me want to examine my history and cultural context. I need to know my biases in order to make a lasting impact in this life.

In his small book, Theology: A very short introduction, David Ford addresses the issue of theology and postmodernity. He says tha tin postmodernity, “There is no center of a persons identity, many pressures overwhelm us from outside of us and from parts of ourselves; and in the midst of that we are continually trying to invent and re-invent who we are in fairly arbitrary ways.”[4] My first instinct was to agree with him, but after spending that time in London, and trying to really figure out who I am in light of my culture and traditions I have to say that he is right in the sense that most people don’t have the opportunity to discover their center. People are not only busy, but also tired and bombarded by images and outside sources telling them who they are, or should be. I think that every person has a center where their true identity lies, and I don’t mean their identity in Christ, even though that’s incredibly important. I mean the identity that was forged when they were conceived. The identity that reflects that of their parents and grandparents and those who have gone before them without which we do try to invent and re-invent ourselves.

In the beginning I said that, “the new buildings have a particular challenge- they have to stand on a city street plan that hasn’t changed in a thousand years.”[5] The church has the same problem. It has to somehow change while standing on a foundation that hasn’t changed in two thousand years. The city of London seems to be taking on this challenge head on and by doing so it’s increasing its appeal and position in the world. The church needs to do the same thing, but I’m not sure if we have enough courage to fight.

So I walk away from this experience motivated to become the kind of leader that has “the ability to preserve their own hold on reality and identity, to see things as they are, avoiding the intense pressure from those around them to participate in the distorted mirroring game.”[6] The journey ahead will be difficult, but I am soo encouraged to see that there is a way to hold on to tradition, identity and reality. I’m not sure what the way is, but I am determined to find out.

About the Author

Stefania Tarasut