The true stars of Bethlehem

In a darkened sky, one very bright star caught my attention this week — something very close to a modern-day Star of Bethlehem. It appeared not in the heavens, but on the BBC news website.

For many people, the sky really is dark. Christmas, far from being a season of joy, is something to be endured. According to a YouGov survey commissioned by the Salvation Army, an estimated 1.8 million adults in the UK spent Christmas Day reluctantly alone.

Even more starkly, almost one in twelve people had gone more than a month without a meaningful, face-to-face conversation with another adult — even at the most sociable time of the year.

We are living through a loneliness epidemic.

Earlier this month the BBC published an in-depth piece entitled The surprising truth about the generations that suffer loneliness the most, drawing on Office for National Statistics research released in November. Like many, I would have assumed that loneliness is mainly the burden of the elderly. After all, advancing age often brings bereavement, declining health and reduced mobility.

But the figures tell a different story. Only 17% of people over 70 — that includes me nowadays — reported feeling lonely. The most affected group by far were young adults. A striking 33% of 16–29-year-olds said they felt lonely “often, always, or some of the time”, the highest proportion of any age group.

That came as no great surprise to me. During my years in ministry I regularly encountered people in their twenties who were deeply socially isolated, even if still living at home with parents. For many, their only consistent human contact was at work — and that was before working from home became normal. Outside employment, social structures had quietly eroded.

Church attendance among young adults is now rare, and even when they do attend, it is unlikely there will be others of the same age in the building. But the same decline can be seen across traditional social groupings — political youth movements, clubs, societies, even the local pub. We inhabit an increasingly individualistic culture, and unsurprisingly, there are casualties.

All of this feels relentlessly gloomy — except for one remarkable story that broke through the darkness.

Throughout Christmas Day, the second most-read article on the BBC News website carried the intriguing title: We invited a man into our home at Christmas — and he stayed with us for 45 years. You may well have read it yourself.

It tells the extraordinary story of a young Cardiff couple, Rob Parsons and Dianne Parsons, who responded to a knock on their door in December 1975. Standing there was Ronnie Lockwood, a homeless autistic man carrying his possessions in a bin bag and a frozen chicken someone had given him for Christmas.

Rob vaguely recognised Ronnie from childhood Sunday School — someone people had always said was “a bit different” and needed kindness. Almost instinctively, Rob uttered the words that would change all their lives: “Come in.”

What was meant to be a brief act of seasonal hospitality became a shared life lasting  an amazing 45 years. Ronnie, homeless since the age of 15 after being profoundly failed by the care system, found stability, work and belonging. Rob and Dianne helped him secure employment, supported him through addiction and ill-health, and welcomed him fully into their home as they later raised two children of their own.

The relationship was not easy. It involved compromise, patience and cost. As Rob put it, it was lived “a day at a time”. Yet when Ronnie died in 2020 aged 75, he left £40,000 to charity — exactly the amount needed to complete a new church wellbeing centre, later named in his honour.

I read the article with huge admiration — and also with honesty. Sad to say, this is not me. I value my personal space too deeply, and inviting someone with additional needs into my home and life is something I would find enormously difficult. My family would confirm that I am as shaped by our individualistic culture as everyone else.

As I read on, I searched for motivation. Why had Rob and Dianne done this? The article offered no explanation beyond a couple of passing references to the local church.

What struck me was that I already knew the name Rob Parsons. In the 1980s I was familiar with his work through Care for the Family, a ministry devoted to strengthening family life. I may well have spoken with him one of his  conferences.

But it’s a common name, so I assumed this must be someone else.

It was only through our family WhatsApp that I discovered it was indeed the same Rob Parsons. Typically, the BBC story had airbrushed the Christian roots of the story, leaving it hanging in mid-air.

Yet Rob and Dianne had lived, at real personal cost, the heart of the Christmas message: Emmanuel.

Em — with

Manu — us.

`El — God.

Jesus is the “With us God.”

WITH is a powerful word. At the most basic level, every human being needs to be with someone. As God himself observes in Genesis, “It is not good for the man to be alone.” And the Christian story goes further: God does not merely advise companionship — he enters it. Matthew’s Gospel closes with Jesus’ promise: “Surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

So how does Jesus keep his promise?

Through people like Rob and Dianne Parsons. And, if we share their obedience, even through us.