Baby boomers

THE homes of Newcastle United FC and that of the truly phenomenal church known as NCLC are barely half a mile apart.

Among the things they have in common – passion, vigour, excitement, noise – is that both have seats for little apparent reason.

At St James’ Park it is frequently a case of United we stand, despite the stewards’ best efforts. At NCLC, no one tries to stop them.

Like the stewed stuff that’s sold on the Gallowgate end for about £2 a shot it is not – of course – everyone’s cup of tea. It’s astonishingly successful, for all that.

Dee Cook, the pastor’s wife, is on her feet, too, though her third child’s a week overdue. “Maybe if I jigged about a bit,” she muses. The baby, goodness knows, must be having a bit of a party himself, quite likely the first infant to be born wearing dancing shoes, but we shall return to young Master Cook ere long.

They meet in the conference (“and banqueting”) centre at the Centre For Life, next to Newcastle Central Station. It’s staging a Dr Who exhibition, too. Sometimes there are 500, last Sunday evening maybe 300 to 400. The students are on holiday.

There’s a “Kids church” upstairs.

The Roman Catholic cathedral is over the road, its decibel levels – and quite possibly its numbers – rather lower.

Yet when, five years ago next month, Jon Cook asked if the fledgling church might meet in the Starbucks coffee shop opposite Grey’s Monument – for this is his baby, too – there were just nine of them. So what did the chap at Starbucks say?

“So long as you drink some coffee,”

recalls John.

Nor should this trend-defying, mind-boggling, image-breaking church simply be supposed a Sunday best; rather it is a seven-day wonder.

The Random Acts of Kindness group, Rack for short, does exactly what it says on the tin. The Servolution team had just finished a week’s voluntary work in Cowgate, one of the city’s lesser areas, that ranged from kids’ clubs to digging old folks’ gardens. They sponsor 200 children in Africa.

Texts and emails keep members up-to-speed. It beats the parish magazine any day.

Already there are two NCLC centres, the other on Teesside. The next is likely to be in Tanzania. “It’s where there’s a need,” says Jon. They describe it as conservative, Biblebased, quite often as awesome.

The other extraordinary thing, as it will prove, is that despite the overflowing numbers and the roof-lifting atmosphere the column’s photographer is apparently unable to find the place. We are thus grateful to the refulgently named Ms Jazzy Lemon for some of today’s images.

JON COOK was born in Stockton (“despite my accent”), grew up in a Christian home – his parents most recently led an independent church in Horden – became a social worker, moved to London, achieved considerable success as a water skier.

“I’ve always had a passion for the North-East. When we were in London I felt a compulsion, I guess. You could say it was a calling to start a church. At first there wasn’t even any music, we just talked about it over coffee.”

They moved from Starbucks to the family front room, thence to a small function room in a restaurant, to the Grey Street hotel and finally, appropriately, to the Centre for Life.

“For us, church isn’t about having a building, it’s about having a community.

We can go anywhere we like,” says Jon. “When this place was double booked, we just met outside.

“We hope to keep a heart for mission.

Newcastle is known as the best party town in the country, maybe 60,000 people out on a weekend night and all that’s clearly attractive.

“We’re trying to build a community where being a Christian alongside someone becomes easier. We hope there’s something attractive about that experience, too.

“Why wouldn’t people not want to be where there’s life and hope and passion? What’s not to like? We’re getting people who are completely unchurched; if something is attractive then by definition you’re drawn towards it.”

But from nine to 500 in five years?

If not falsely modest, his answer may be supposed a little disingenuous.

“It’s only two a week,” says Jon.

SOMETIMES it’s possible to suppose that I’m the youngest person in church, which says little for the life expectancy of the rest of them.

Here, though youthfully embraced, I’m more than twice the average age. The foyer – the “connection area” – exuberantly overflows, helpers in colour coded T-shirts. One pours the coffee – it’s not Starbucks – the other the milk. At about ten past five there’s a recorded message: “If you would like to take your seats, the service will begin in two minutes.”

At the football ground up the road, the gladiators enter to the strain of Local Hero. Here a music group does a similar job – leaping, singing, swirling, twirling, creating the crescendo.

No one’s turning cartwheels. It may only be a matter of time. Most wave their arms; the chap in front appears to be celebrating in sign language. At the front, they’re dancing. So much for the godless generation. One or two wander out for another drink.

If the bairn’s not stirring by now, all Dee may be contracting is indigestion.

Jon talks of the need for gratitude, about how much they themselves have got from the Cowgate experience.

Charlie Sullivan gives an energetic 15-minute talk on Jacob’s Ladder.

By the end, they’re literally all up for it. There could hardly be more fervour if the Mags had just scored a stoppage time winner. Against Sunderland.

It ends after 90 minutes or so, though precious few head homeward.

It’s time for anther coffee.

DEE COOK goes to hospital soon after the service, is examined, told she can stay the night, but goes home and returns at 7.30am the next day. Judah Caleb Cook is born at 1pm on Monday, mother and child safely home the day afterwards. It’s another reason for rejoicing.

■ NCLC meets on Sundays at the Centre for Life, in Newcastle, at 10.45am and 5 15pm and in the Town Hall crypt, in Middlesbrough, at 11am. Details on mynclc.co.uk