Riskier in our Faith
Estimated Reading time: 8 minutes · Written by Tim chilversThis summer, I was captivated by an extraordinary story that came out of northern Sweden. In the town of Kiruna, they faced a remarkable challenge. Years of mining had caused the ground beneath the city to become unstable. The foundations of entire neighbourhoods, including a church, were no longer safe.
Now, for most of us, if a building becomes unsafe, we might shore it up or, at worst, knock it down. But in Kiruna, they decided to do something different. They moved the whole church.
It took two days to shift this huge building, bit by bit, across the city, several miles to more stable ground. The entire process was broadcast live on Swedish national television. Imagine watching a church inch across the streets, not brick by brick, but whole.
That story got under my skin. A church was moved, not just for the present generation, but for future generations too. It was a practical necessity, but also a profound picture. And it left me asking: what about us? What about the churches here in the UK?
No, I don’t necessarily mean physically moving our buildings, though perhaps one day that might be necessary. I mean, what about the way we do church, the way we live out our faith? What things might we need to “move”—to change, adapt, or even let go of—for the sake of future generations?
And to make it even more local: what does this mean for us here in Birmingham? What might it mean for the churches across this city? And, closer still, what might it mean for us here at Riverside Church?
Over the past few months, our leadership team has been praying, reflecting, and wrestling with these very questions. What kind of future is God calling us into? What kind of church are we becoming, not just for ourselves, but for the sake of those who come after us?
We’ve come to see that God is calling us to three atmosphere changes – three shifts in emphasis – over the next three or four years. These are not just strategies or goals, but changes in the very culture of who we are as a church.
By 2028, we want to be:
Riskier in our faith
Braver in our evangelism
Deeper in our discipleship
These are not slogans or marketing lines. They’re invitations. They are challenges for each of us individually and for us collectively as a church family.
This week, I want to share about the first of those, being riskier in our faith. Next week we’ll think about being braver in evangelism, and then the week after, deeper in discipleship.
Why Risk Matters
I have to admit: I am not a natural risk-taker. I’m not the sort of person who thrills at the idea of skydiving or bungee jumping. Even when it comes to simple games that involve risk, I’m usually the cautious one.
But I do remember one particular occasion when I took a risk. Many years ago, my brother and I were travelling in southern Africa. We found ourselves at Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, one of the natural wonders of the world. And there, on the mighty River Zambezi, a bold, grown-up river full of white-water rapids, we decided to go rafting.
I remember asking one of the guides about crocodiles. After all, the Zambezi is full of them. He reassured me: “Don’t worry, crocodiles never come into the rafts.” That was comforting enough, until, of course, we capsized. I was thrown into the water, clambered to the bank, and on the far side of the river, sure enough, were crocodiles basking in the sun. And I’m pretty sure one of them smiled at me.
Risk is like that, isn’t it? It always feels more real when you’re no longer in the boat.
Here in the UK, we talk about risk a lot, but usually in negative terms. Risk assessments, risk registers, risk management. We focus on minimising risk, reducing it, making sure things are safe. And rightly so, in many contexts that’s essential.
But in our spiritual lives, I sometimes wonder whether our obsession with safety has gone too far. Because when I read the Bible, I see again and again that God calls his people into risk. He asks them to step out of their comfort zones, to do things that feel daunting, even impossible.
I love this line from the writer Carey Nieuwhof:
“Never be afraid to risk what is for the sake of what might be.”
Isn’t that what faith is about? Trusting God enough to step out, to let go of what we know, and to embrace what might be?
Risk and Trust
Jesus once told a parable that captures this so powerfully. It’s the story of a master who entrusts his wealth to three servants. To one he gives five bags of gold, to another two, and to another one.
The first two servants take what they’ve been given and put it to work. They take risks. And they end up doubling their master’s wealth. The third, however, buries his bag of gold in the ground. He plays it safe. And when the master returns, he is commended not for his caution, but rebuked for his fear.
Why? Because at the heart of this parable is a relationship of trust. The master entrusts his wealth to the servants. And the first two honour that trust by risking it. The third dishonours it by letting fear dictate his actions.
Here’s the reality: embracing risk is rooted in trust. Avoiding risk is rooted in fear.
And that raises a question for me, and perhaps for you: what risks am I embracing, and what risks am I avoiding? And why?
The Importance of Learning to Risk
When I think about risk, I often think of my son Noah when he was learning to walk. Those first steps were wobbly and tentative. He’d hold on to the sofa or a trouser leg, but there came a point where he had to let go.
Of course, he fell. Of course, he bumped himself. But without those risks, he would never have learnt to walk, let alone run.
Faith is like that. The act of taking a risk, even more than the outcome, is what grows us. The specific risk may not matter as much as the willingness to trust God enough to step out.
Sometimes I wonder if we live our Christian lives too cautiously. We keep things safe and comfortable. We set up our routines in such a way that, if we’re honest, we don’t really need God to show up. It’s only when life throws us into the rapids that we suddenly realise how much we need him.
But what if we lived differently? What if we chose to take risks for God, not recklessly, but faithfully, in ways that made our hearts race and our stomachs flutter, knowing that if God doesn’t turn up, we’re sunk? What might happen then?
Fearing the Right Thing
Now, you might be thinking: aren’t we supposed to fear God? Doesn’t the Bible say things like, “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” or “live out your time here in reverent fear”?
Yes—but the key is what, or who, we fear.
The unfaithful servant in Jesus’ parable was afraid of the consequences. He feared failure. He feared losing what he had. The faithful servants, however, feared something greater: they feared dishonouring their master.
To fear God biblically doesn’t mean being terrified of him. It means honouring him, respecting him, trusting him above all else. And if we truly fear God, then we will be less afraid of consequences. We will take risks, because we know the Creator of heaven and earth is with us.
So often, I think the reason we don’t step out in faith is not because we don’t believe in God, but because we fear the consequences more than we fear him
Shaped by Risk
Dallas Willard once said:
“Your work is not God’s work. You are God’s work. Your work is simply the context through which you pursue discipleship to Jesus. God is shaping you into the person you will forever be.”
That line has stayed with me. It reminds me that God cares not just about what I do for him, but about what he is doing in me. And one of the key ways he shapes us is through risk.
Every time I step out in faith, I give God space to form me, to mould me, to deepen my trust in him. The outcome matters, yes, but perhaps the greater work is what happens in me as I take the risk.
What Might Risk Look Like Today?
All of this is inspiring in theory. But what does it look like in practice? What risks might God be calling us to take?
Let me offer a few possibilities. Some are small, some are big. All require trust.
Speaking up: Perhaps it’s as simple as inviting a friend to church, like Dave did on the street the other week. Or praying out loud for someone in the moment, as Rachel did when a colleague shared about a tough situation.
Listening to God’s prompting: Maybe it’s being like Sarah, who felt a nudge from God as she passed someone in Bournville and chose to share a word of encouragement.
Standing with people in need: Risk might look like choosing to walk alongside someone with a devastating diagnosis, committing to journey with them no matter what.
Praying boldly: Maybe it’s offering to pray for healing there and then, rather than just saying, “I’ll pray for you.”
Living generously: For some, risk might be financial, choosing to give in ways that feel sacrificial, trusting God to provide.
Engaging in justice: It might be speaking to local politicians, campaigning for change, standing up for those on the margins.
Stepping into leadership: Perhaps God is prompting you to take responsibility in church, filling a gap, even though it feels daunting.
Prioritising God’s kingdom: For others, risk might simply be choosing to spend more time building God’s kingdom than building a career.
These are just examples. Risk doesn’t have to mean something dramatic. Sometimes it’s the small, everyday acts of faith, the thousand tiny ways we trust God, that shape us most.
The Risk We Can’t Avoid
A few months ago, I took all the Google reviews of Riverside Church and put them into a word cloud. The most frequent words were largest: “friendly”, “welcoming”, “amazing people”, “lovely place”. All wonderful things. But one word was missing. The word Jesus.
That was sobering. Because as Carey Nieuwhof puts it:
“It’s a shame when people come to church looking for God and only find us.”
If there’s one risk we cannot avoid, it’s the risk of being bold about Jesus. Not just being known as friendly, welcoming people, but as people who point to Christ. People who embody his love, speak his name, and live in such a way that others encounter him through us.
The Risk We Can’t Avoid
So, what does this look like for you? What risks might God be inviting you to take this week?
As a practical step, we’ve even created little “risked it” stickers. A simple way of saying, “I want to remember to be riskier in my faith.” Maybe you’ll put it on your phone, or somewhere you’ll see it daily. It’s not about the sticker itself, but about the posture it represents, a willingness to step out, to let go of the sofa, to take the first wobbly steps of risk.
Because here’s the truth: God is already at work. Across our city, across generations, people are hungry for hope. Society’s promises have been found wanting. And now is not the time to shrink back. Now is the time to be brave.
The God who moved a church across a city in Sweden is the same God who moves us. He calls us to take risks, not for risk’s sake, but for the sake of love, for the sake of others, and for the sake of his kingdom.
So let me leave you with this question:
What risk will you take this week?
The original teaching has been edited for clarity and brevity; This is not a transcript.