In light of England’s Word Cup semi-final defeat, our Chief Executive Andrea Williams asks the question: “Can you imagine if Britain stopped for Jesus as readily as it stops for football?”
On Wednesday evening, millions of people across England stopped what they were doing.
The streets were eerily empty. The pubs and fan zones were filled. Families gathered around television screens. For ninety minutes, our nation held its breath as England took to the football pitch.
I found myself wondering: can you imagine if we stopped like that for Jesus Christ?
Can you imagine churches overflowing not just at Christmas but week after week? Can you imagine our workplaces pausing to acknowledge the One through whom all things were made? Can you imagine a nation whose greatest anticipation was not a football match, but the worship of its Saviour?
It sounds almost unimaginable.
And perhaps that tells us something profound about where we are as a nation.
This isn’t an anti-football rant. I love sport. I wanted England to do well. Football has an extraordinary ability to unite people from every background, reminding us that we still long to belong to something bigger than ourselves.
We have lost our God
But as Dominic Muir reflected after the game, England’s defeat to Argentina was a picture of the state of our nation.
“We went 1-0 up and, until that point, looked the better side. We were pressing, playing with purpose, and asserting ourselves. But instead of building on that momentum, we retreated. We surrendered the initiative, sat deeper and deeper, and invited a bold, confident Argentinian side to dictate the game…
…Watching England, I was reminded of a country that, in many ways, has lost confidence in its own identity. Since 1966, we have slowly become more hesitant, more apologetic, more uncertain of ourselves. We increasingly rely on systems and tactics to compensate for a diminishing belief that we are capable of greatness. Somewhere along the way we have lost our chutzpah, our swagger, our quiet conviction that we can impact the globe and shine brightly. Ultimately, we have lost our God.”
1967 was the year we passed the Abortion Act.
There was a time when this nation possessed a quiet confidence. It was never simply about empire, military strength or economic power. At its best, Britain believed it had a calling. The calling of Christ.
Our laws reflected biblical principles. Our institutions were shaped by Christian convictions. Our understanding of liberty, justice and human dignity grew from the conviction that every person is made in the image of God. Our confidence ultimately rested not in ourselves but in the Lord Jesus.
It was this Christian vision that inspired hospitals, schools, abolitionists, missionaries, reformers, scientists and statesmen. It gave Britain a remarkable influence far beyond its size.
We knew who we were because we knew whose we were.
Today that confidence has largely disappeared.
For decades, we have been embarrassed by our Christian inheritance. We apologise for our past more readily than we learn from it. We are told that our traditions are oppressive, our history shameful and our faith something to be confined to the private sphere.
When a nation forgets God, it does not become neutral.
It loses its bearings.
And when people no longer know who they are, hesitation replaces conviction. We lose sight of the goal. We try to hang on to what we have instead of pursuing positive change.
Just like on the football pitch.
Argentina believed they could win. Their confidence became contagious. Every attack strengthened their belief.
Meanwhile, England’s retreat had the opposite effect. Every backward step reinforced uncertainty.
Confidence, whether in football or in national life, flows from identity.
Confidence flows from identity
As Christians, we know that identity begins not with ourselves but with God.
The Psalmist declares: “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord” (Psalm 33:12).
That verse is not a promise of effortless sporting success or uninterrupted prosperity. It is a reminder that true flourishing comes when a people acknowledge the One who made them.
Our greatest national problem is not economic. It is not constitutional. It is not even cultural.
It is spiritual.
We have slowly replaced worship with entertainment, transcendence with distraction, and the glory of God with the glory of ourselves. We have asked footballers, politicians and celebrities to carry a weight that only Christ can bear.
Had England won the World Cup, the nation would have had a feelgood week or two – although those outside England may have had more mixed feelings.
But it would only have been a brief moment. No football team can restore a nation’s soul. Only the Lord can do that.
The encouraging truth is that history is full of nations that have experienced renewal after periods of decline. Britain itself has known great awakenings before. The preaching of Wesley and Whitefield transformed communities. The Clapham reformers reshaped public life because they first sought the kingdom of God.
Lasting renewal requires revival and reformation.
Perhaps that is why my thoughts kept returning to the opening question.
Can you imagine if Britain stopped for Jesus as readily as it stops for football?
Can you imagine if our greatest celebrations were for the things of God? If our deepest unity was found at the foot of the cross? If our confidence came not from national pride but from humble dependence upon Christ?
That is the United Kingdom I long to see.
Not a nation that merely wins football matches, but one that rediscovers its soul.
Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord
Last night, I was at our most recent Awake, Arise! tour event in Bournemouth. Like the football, it was a moment where time stood still. We were focused solely on God’s kingdom as Christians worshipped together and built each other up through teaching and testimonies.
The message? Look up. Wake up. Rise up. It’s not the time to shrink from the challenge and play defence. It’s time to press forward and act in line with our God-given authority.
Like C. S. Lewis’s Narnia under the White Witch, our culture can sometimes feel locked in a long winter. Yet winter does not have the final word. Spring comes. The spell is broken. Life returns.
My prayer is that Britain will once again remember whose it is.
For when we recover that identity, we will recover the courage to live it.
May the long winter end and the British lion awake.
And above all, that means bowing the knee to her true King: Jesus.