“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor….” Isaiah 61:1 NIV
My husband and I have lived in Erdington for over 20 years. It is a part of Birmingham that has long been described as statistically deprived, where financial, relational and spiritual poverty often shapes the lives of children and young people. Urban Devotion Birmingham began in Erdington out of a desire to see young people and communities flourish, and over the years has grown into a long-term commitment to presence through youth and community work, rooted in the belief that the good news of Jesus must be both proclaimed and demonstrated.
Isaiah 61 has shaped the imagination of Urban Devotion Birmingham from the beginning. They are the words Jesus reads in the synagogue in Luke 4, when he announces the kind of kingdom he has come to bring. Good news to the poor. Freedom for the captive. Comfort for those who mourn. Rebuilding where things have been broken down for generations. We follow a God who cares. A God who does not remain distant from poverty but enters it.
“We follow a God who cares. A God who does not remain distant from poverty but enters it.”
Over the years of working with children and young people in Birmingham, it has become increasingly clear that poverty is never just one thing. There is financial poverty, which is often the most visible. A lad who was about to start Year 7 but whose mom couldn’t afford the uniform and so coloured in a tie with the school colours. A family who attended every session of summer holiday provision because they received a free lunch and wouldn’t eat otherwise. A child who wore shoes two sizes too big because they were the only ones their parent had available. Such pressures shape everything from attendance at school to the ability to concentrate, from behaviour to aspiration.
There is also relational poverty, which is sometimes less visible but just as formative. A young person who moved away with her family to escape abuse but then returned and didn’t have a school place for several years, leaving her isolated from peers. Another whose dad was in prison, and by year 7 was regularly absent from school and subsequently got moved to a pupil referral unit. For young people who move through systems, schools, or housing situations without ever feeling rooted anywhere for long, it can become harder to trust that people will stay, or that relationships can be dependable.
There is something else that sits underneath both of these. A kind of poverty of hope. Not always spoken, but present in the way some young people talk about the future, or avoid it altogether. When survival takes priority, imagination often shrinks.
“When survival takes priority, imagination often shrinks.”
The different forms of poverty overlap, reinforce, and compound one another; shaping what young people expect from adults, what they think they deserve, who they are, and what they think is possible for their future. This is not a collection of isolated stories. It is the everyday reality of growing up for many children and young people across our communities.
Youth and community work is often less about programmes and more about presence. Being consistent when other things feel uncertain or chaotic. Knowing names. Remembering stories. Not disappearing when things get tough. Isaiah 61 isn’t only about naming what is broken. It is about rebuilding. Freedom for broken people, who then join in the mission. Brokenness is not disqualifying in the kingdom of God. It is often the very place from which hope is carried to others.
That is the space community work occupies. Not as a quick answer, but as long-term presence in the places where rebuilding begins. When the lad who had no uniform told us about it, a local mom donated a school tie and blazer. The girl with no school place later started volunteering with us, because she found a place of safety and belonging and wanted other young people to know that too.
There is no doubt that poverty in all its forms shapes stories. But it does not have to be the end of the story. In Jesus, brokenness or lack is not the end point. It is often the very place from which hope is carried to others, as those who are being restored begin to join in the work of restoration themselves.
Over the past 20 years, I have experienced this hope time and time again. It has shaped my own life, not just been my work. There have been seasons when I have known my own need for encouragement, kindness and hope, and I have found it through the very community I came to serve: through neighbours who showed generosity, or young people whose words reminded me of the impact of simply being present. I have learned that hope is not something we simply bring to others; it is something we encounter together.
“…hope is not something we simply bring to others; it is something we encounter together.”
Poverty is still a reality here, and the challenges faced by many families remain significant. But it does not have the final word. God is still restoring, rebuilding and bringing life in places where things have been broken, often through the very people and communities the world is most likely to overlook.
Photo from @urbandevotion (Instagram)