Local Doesn’t Mean Small: Why My Calling Is on the Ground

By Jide Ehizele

This is a story by Jide Ehizele whose sense of vocation is drawing him deeper into the local, into a shared life of civic and spiritual belonging.

As I scroll through my X feed, I’ve noticed a growing cultural pressure to go viral. Social media—especially X—has always thrived on controversy, but lately, the volume has turned to a deafening roar. More and more posts are focused on lambasting political leaders or their policies, rarely pausing to genuinely interrogate the issues at hand. It’s just “X and Y is a disgrace.”

Outrage is rewarded online, and this has created a dynamic where people stylise their tweets to be not only performative but to hit the major talking points. The result? We're losing originality.

I’ve had my X account (Twitter, back then) for 14 years, though I’ve used it on and off. Over the past five years, I began using it more consistently—mainly to gain insight into what’s happening across different corners of Britain. And to some extent, it has served that purpose. But gradually, I’ve noticed local voices and nuanced perspectives on everyday communities fading beneath the national noise. Everything now feels repetitive. People seem to feel a constant pressure to shape the national discourse “at the top.”

I don’t deny that national conversations matter—and it’s good to hear diverse voices weighing in. But I do question the assumption that bigger is always better. That going viral—reaching hundreds of thousands, even millions—equals meaningful impact. It doesn’t.

I’ve come to learn that my lane isn’t lesser just because I don’t shout the loudest or have thousands of followers. I’m a cultural shaper working from the ground up—as a Black British communitarian and evangelical Anglican. That’s where I’m most faithful, most fruitful, and most free.

My sense of vocation has always loosely centred around helping people live up to their full potential. It’s what has drawn me into kids’ ministry, theology workshops, community outreach, and Substack reflections. These areas might seem unrelated at first, but they all intersect around formation, belonging, and local renewal—core tenets of my relational worldview.

I don’t see these roles as separate silos. Together, they form an ecosystem—interconnected ways to engage culture and nurture deep, transformative growth. Some of the children I teach at church, I’ll bump into at the local non-league football game on a Saturday. That’s more than ministry; that’s life. The relationship becomes more than teacher-student. I’m trying to be a mentor—an older brother, even an uncle. That’s how trust grows. That’s how belonging takes root.

The theology workshops I participate in offer people space to reflect and ask deeper questions. They’re not just teaching sessions; they’re spaces of mutual learning. I often leave with insights that find their way into my Substack reflections—insights that no data set or algorithm could ever provide.

“You are the light of the world... Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matt. 5:14–16)

Christians are not called to passivity or performance—we’re called to presence. To be active agents of renewal. Culture shapers, not content consumers. Our calling is to preserve what is good, reveal what is true, and reflect the character of the Kingdom.

So I ask: does performative outrage on X move us closer to that Kingdom vision? Does scale really equal significance?

It’s easy to forget that Jesus spent most of His life in relative obscurity, quietly investing in a few disciples. The early Church didn’t spread through grand public platforms but through intimate households—meal by meal, story by story, life by life. This patient, relational approach didn’t just sustain faith; it changed the world.

Quiet, faithful ministry often outlasts headline moments.

There is a real temptation to chase public affirmation or to reach for platforms beyond what God has actually entrusted to us. But when we fall for that, we risk losing our distinct voice. I believe each of us has not only a story to tell, but one that contributes to the renewal of the world—if we would steward it well.

This resonates strongly with the principle of subsidiarity. In the Catholic definition, a higher authority should not interfere in the internal life of a community, depriving it of its functions, but rather should offer support to its activity with a view to the common good.

Imitating others’ lanes often leads to burnout, distraction, and a shallow echo chamber. But when we steward our own unique voice—rooted in our story, community, and calling—we offer something the world truly needs.

The local church. The neighbourhood. The ordinary rhythms of life. These aren’t beneath us.

They’re holy ground. They’re where the real magic happens.

I see purpose and power in my Black British communitarian lane. In an age where questions about integration and multiculturalism can feel like fault lines, I see my role as a bridge-builder—a witness to a better way, where ethnic and civic belonging aren’t opposed but held in creative tension. A space where young people don’t have to choose between their heritage and their home, but are empowered to embrace both fully.

My lane isn’t narrow. It’s countercultural—and even prophetic.

Through my participation in the body of Christ, I’m not just reacting to culture; I’m helping to build something eternal.

I used to question the hours spent over coffee, shared meals, prayer gatherings, or those unplanned chats after church—moments that felt like a luxury when time was scarce. But now I know these are the soil where culture grows. Culture isn’t shaped by grand ideas alone, but by habits and rituals lived out in community.

Culture isn’t just shaped by thinkers or visionaries—it’s sustained by people who embody a way of life together. Without shared practices, your values remain abstract. But lived out in community, they take on form. As we read in Acts 2: 44-45, they become cultural.

The simple truth is: going viral on X may get attention, but it does little—if anything—to shape the deep structures of culture. That kind of formation happens slowly, quietly, and relationally.

I want to invite others to reflect deeply on where they are truly called to be—not where the algorithm or their ego insists they should be.

This isn’t to say social media has no role in Kingdom work. It does. But it’s a tool, not a master. We must learn to use it wisely, rather than be shaped or controlled by its demands.

So don’t imagine that the local is less important than the national. Don’t despise your lane.

As 1 Corinthians 12:12 reminds us,

“Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ.”

Each of us has a unique place to play in the unfolding story of renewal. When we embrace our calling and lean into our local rhythms, our light truly shines—and together, we help build a Kingdom culture that endures.

Jide Ehizele is a Christian thinker, Lewisham born and bred, exploring identity, faith, and cultural renewal through a Christian moral lens. You can find him at his Substack below: