New Year reminder

 I drove home from the Shire today, which was fine - quite straight forward really - until the end when I was driving down the Lanes (the sign that home is just a few bends away) and there we stopped as two cars (or maybe three) emptied their occupants to discuss the little bang that had happened. They were OK, I'm sure.

Next to me was the entrance to a farm, which made turning around easier and so I started off on another way. Thankfully I had google maps on (just in case another way is better than the way I know) which, when it had pulled itself together (which took a little while) could find me an alternative way home. It sent me down an unsuitable for HGVs lane, which was OK because there was no one coming the other direction, and I popped out of the top onto a familiar road just past the accident which could take me home. 

It was once I got on the familiar road that I realised my eyes were sore. I had been concentrating so hard on driving through the unknown that I forgot the thing I needed to do to help me see the way ahead. I was ready for what was right in front of me, but wasn't ready for the longer journey through all the bends ahead. I'd forgotten to blink. Driving in London is often a bit like that. It's like one of those hazard perception tests where concentration is key and any moment of missing the hazard may involve heavy braking or a loud beep from outside. Blinking is a distraction in that moment.

However, blinking is necessary. It's normally an automatic response to dry eyes or dirt or to some sort of external stimulus. It gets your eyelashes to work, batting away the irritants before they get stuck in the eye. When you are focussed on one thing (like the road ahead), your blink rate decreases, which is why your eyes get dry. 

As we come to the end of a full year of pandemic, the road continues to feel unfamiliar. When we thought we had got back on the right road, another variant, another set of rapidly rising cases, another load of covid stuff has been dumped on the tarmac before us. Finding our way takes concentration, more decision making, and a need to embrace the unfamiliar route ahead without the google maps that we hope to rely on. No decision feels like the right decision, uncertainty is rife and things feel quite a lot on edge. 

It's at times like these we need to not forget to blink. We cannot continue down an unfamiliar road without blinking, because the dryness of our eyes will get too much and we won't be able to see anything beyond the right now anymore. It is in seeing beyond the right now that we are able to keep going. If we cannot see, we are in danger of just stopping. Blinking is self care. Blinking is nourishing. Blinking is life giving. Blinking brings hope.

As we enter another year down this uncertain road, we hope for better. We hope that next year will end better than the last. And..... as we continue to drive down an unfamiliar route, don't forget to blink. The phrase 'blink and you'll miss it' is not the one for this year - sometimes we might want to blink so we do miss it, because we don't need all the information being thrown in our faces anymore. We need to blink for nourishment, blink for hydration, blink so our eyes continue to work to see where we are going. 

Our blinks are necessary pauses, they are counts to 10 before we react, and they are the moments of joy we seek out in the mess. Our blinks are the times we set aside to stop and look either side of the hazard to the beauty beyond, the times we set aside to read and pray and the moments with wise ones who point out the signpost we didn't see ahead. 

Those blinks will help us see the way to an easier road ahead.  

"You Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. With your help I can advance against a troop, with my God I can scale a wall"  Psalm 18:28-29

You Lord, keep my vision clear; my God helps me to see by bringing light. With your help I can navigate the unfamiliar road, with my God I can continue to walk on. 

Don't forget to blink

Those jumpers..... (not) #teambelieve

 
I was stood on some stairs outside the toilets admiring a friend's Christmas jumper. It was a bit different - it could be not a Christmas jumper and a festive season to new year to whatever comes next wear (in fact it didn't to me look too Christmassy at all - not like my jumper which says Christmas on so you know what it is). It said 'believe' on the front. Believe what? Well, it could be a conversation opener. I don't know who designed it but I wonder what they were thinking should be believed - believe in Santa? Believe in better? Believe in yourself? Believe in miracles.....? 

Believe in the good news of Christmas perhaps. Definitely telling you to believe in something. Ordering you to believe in whatever it is, perhaps, if you take it a step further. Perhaps it should be a question rather than just a word......

We live in a world that wants something to believe in - there is a massive identity crisis, we are told we can be anyone we want to be. There are a plethora of labels and words - confusing, befuddling - they need a dictionary in themselves for interpretation..... 

Believe tells us that there is something worth putting our faith in - that we can find an identity. I have no problem with that. As a Christian, clearly, I believe. 

So, whilst I get the whole premise of a believe jumper and why people might love it, I didn't want to get one because I'm not a fan of M&S clothes. I also struggle with large writing across the chest. But that's for other reasons altogether (the jumper I'm wearing is a big baggy mansize jumper so it's all OK). 

But then, as time has gone by, I've found the jumper making me a little bit angry. 

It's not the jumper as such, but the message around it. It started with a few Anglican vicars taking a photo of themselves wearing it and their dog collar and putting it on social media with #teambelieve. Then other denominations and movements of churches carried the whole thing forward. Out there beyond my window are many women vicars, ministers, pastors, normal people wearing this (apparently very soft and wearable) jumper. 

So why is it making me a little bit angry and irritated....? 

Well at first when I saw the newspaper article, my inner rebel took hold. I am Baptist both by conviction and personality. Baptists are dissenters, non-conformists, most see no need for uniforms or dog collars - if everyone in the room was wearing black shoes, I'd be the one wearing sparkly ones. I don't want to be like everyone else. Whilst I looked at the jumper, I was very happy with my own jumper (which thankfully, no one else I know seems to have wanted) and the conversation that jumper starts (what's feminist about a jumper?). As Baptists should we be conforming to the pattern of the C of E world? It's not in our make up. 

And then, as more and more Baptists got the jumper, it felt like I was being pushed out. If you don't believe in the believe jumper do you not belong? My inner 'I'm not welcome here' came out. The peer pressure was rife. So I did have a little look in M&S, realised how much it cost, realised, as is normal for M&S, getting a size that would fit me in a store was almost impossible, and I promptly walked out again. Sixty seconds of nearly succumbing. Thankfully my reasons for not loving M&S (apart from the food section) stopped me from making a decision I would regret 10 minutes later. Our need to belong is huge - but can a jumper ever say we belong? We can brand anything, but it's what is happening on the ground that really matters. 

And that comes to my third reason. It's the same reason that makes me feel on the edge at many a gathering. As someone who doesn't fit in and is OK with that, there is always a pull to conform, and for my community that is sat on the edge of London, often feeling left out and unable to fit in, it says something else - it says something about an inner circle - a clique, where only a jumper or a certain theology or a way of going about life is 'normal' - we're not going to ever conform, however hard we try. If the call to belong is a call to conform, then we're never going to be part of the montage. 

I'm not (although it may seem that way, I understand) being judgmental about this - I am in fact judging myself, because I am trying to understand why this is making me so angry - I could blame Covid, which has heightened my emotions just now, or tiredness which does the same.... but..... I also wanted a little rant.... and to say - that it's not a jumper for everyone, and also not a team for us all, and that's OK. It really is OK. 

In the image of God we are created, in community where each one belongs, where the jumper you wear shouldn't matter, or the shoes or the badge or the socks. There is a place of belonging for us all - misfits and conformists, the ones on the edge and the ones in the centre, the ones with and the ones without..... God breathes his breath over us all. 

Flipping jumpers.... 

Be still, my soul

"Be still, my soul; your God will undertake

to guide the future as he has the past;

your hope, your confidence, let nothing shake;

all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know

his voice who ruled them while he lived below".

How do we find stillness in the storm, in the waves and waves of bad news?

How do we find stillness when fear of what's coming overwhelms, where words like tsunami lead our eyes to the horizon dreading the next?

How do we find stillness when our normal winter symptoms make us suspect the worst?

How do we find stillness when the cycle through hope and then fear doesn't stop spinning?

Be still my soul; your God will hold you tight

to lead you through the next as he led you through the last

Your hope, your confidence, it won't shake forever

the uncertainty of fear will become peace again

Be still, my soul; the storm clouds hovering know

his voice, that rules, that sings, that heals - leads on.

In the storm, turn away from the chasing, look away from the news, the briefings, the fountain of information - just for a moment.

And breathe.

Count to 10.

Peace in, peace out.

Look around.

For even in the storm there are hopeful things.

Even in the storm there is calm.

Even in the storm there is a safe place.

In the storm, light shines out bright and guides us home

In the storm, a star settles over an ordinary place.

Our God of peace is here.

Waiting to Belong

Standing in line in the tennis courts as the teams were being picked for whatever sport it was we were playing that day. The team captains were girls I kind of knew but hadn't really spoken to. I was, in fact, a little bit intimidated by them. 

I watched as they picked their teams. Name after name until there were just a few of us left. The numbers went down to four, three, two,.... and then just me. The reluctant team captain calling me over. My place, I knew, would be at the back somewhere. 

Standing on the edge of the crowd of people who seemed to know each other, I watched as body language changed and welcome was given. Not wanting to disturb the happy chatter I stood in my own world, waiting for the main meeting to begin, kind of happy to sit on the edge and not have to engage, but feeling a bit out of it. 

At the end of that conference, we sent round a piece of paper asking for nice comments and words about the person's name at the top. "Friendly" said the pens of those who had said hello in passing. "Thanks for being there when there was no-one else to talk to" said the one who was trying a little harder to be nice.... but put me in last place again. 

Have you ever felt you don't belong?

The story of the nativity is one of not belonging - of being picked last. When Jesus was born he wasn't given the best room in the house, but a room was reluctantly found for him in the place where the animals were likely kept. It wasn't ideal, it wasn't the place for a baby to be born, never mind a King..... when Jesus moved into the neighbourhood, he arrived in last place. Although people knew of the promised Messiah - that baby - apart from for a few, it wouldn't have mattered if he was there or not. 

Yet it mattered more than anyone knew. 

As nativity stories are acted out each year, there's that knock at the door as the innkeepers say, one after the other 'there's no room'. 

As we see the yet to be born Messiah left out in the cold, those who feel they never belong find a place that they can always belong, because in the story of the closing of the doors, we find the one who understands, the one who stands on the side-lines, gathering in.....

Before you even knock at the door, it is already flung wide open and the voice of the one born in that room round the back says.....

"There is a place for you here, how about it?" 

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. Luke 2:6-7

 

Waiting for the waiting to end

 

The difficult thing about waiting is that waiting means waiting. 

Obvious, yes?

Well, yes, but it doesn't make it less frustrating/annoying/difficult/insert your own term here. 

We want things immediately. 

I really want the pandemic to be over now. 

I really want things to get easier now. 

I really want to not have to wait for the late person to turn up. 

I really want to get on with living life now. 

I really want to know the results now. 

I really want my friends suffering from long covid to find 'normal' life again

I really want to...... 

I really want everything to be made right now. I want poverty, sickness, pain, death to be no more. It is promised.... but it's not here yet. 

In our advent waiting the waiting is often hard. 

As Mary waits for the baby, I wonder what was going through her head. She visits Elizabeth, whose baby jumps for joy when he recognises who the baby is Mary is carrying and Mary sings a song of all the great things her baby will do, and then..... 

Waiting. 

She stays with Elizabeth for three months before she goes home, but then there is still more waiting to do. 

And, the words of that song, they haven't all been realised yet. 

We still live in a world where the wrong people are in power, where corruption continues, where hunger and poverty is an ongoing problem, where things getting better seem so far away. 

God's Kingdom has come, but it's also still coming. 

As the pandemic recovery seems to have hit a roadblock, we are reminded of how fragile things still are. And as we wait this one out to see what happens next, all we can do is try and stay safe and keep on praying. 

Because the waiting will end, we just might need to stay where we are for a while. 

And Mary said

My soul glorifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God my saviour,

for he has been mindful 

of the humble state of his servant

And we say

My soul glorifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God my saviour

Because he knows how frustrating the wait is

and he promises us better ahead

His mercy extends to those fear him

Just like to Mary, it does to us today

He has performed mighty deeds in the past

and he will perform mighty deeds in the future

He will overthrow those who are centred on themselves

He will bring down the rulers who are addicted to power

He will lift up those who feel like they are at the bottom of the pile

He will fill those who are hungry with all the good food (and in fact they will be hungry no more)

He will not let the rich hoard everything

He will bring the waiting to an end

And the future? Just you wait and see. 

He will bring glorious things. 

Image from pixahive

Advent Cancellations

 I've cancelled two parties today and I have thought about whether we should cancel anything else. I haven't made plans for January 2022 yet because I'm waiting to see what happens. I am hoping that my plans for Christmas and seeing family don't get scuppered. I'm trying to avoid knowing too much about what's going on as I am so frustrated and angry that it's come to Covid rules being stricter again and all the governmental chaos around that. I'm kind of oscillating between wanting to lock myself away or saying stuff it, let's just get on with living (I know, cautiously)..... And I am intermittently punctuating my day with goats that scream like humans (go on, do it, it will make you laugh.... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlYlNF30bVg)

Someone suggested a zoom party today. Remember zoom parties. A lovely novelty for a time, but not what we really want. Like zoom quizzes. OK for one or two, but then.... 

When you are sat on your own partying with boxes on screens it'll do, but it's not the greatest of experiences (well it depends who you are on zoom with I suppose - there have been some zoom parties that have been an experience of fun..... ). 

Now, I know we don't have to cancel parties, but it makes sense that if we are being encouraged to avoid one another at work work that we avoid one another in too much work play too. But the Christmas build up without too much fun - I'm not up for it this year really, but I'm telling myself I can do it..... I'm fortunate in some ways that my work means that I need to see people, I can't not see people, it's the very nature of what we do. I even saw people in the first, strict and well adhered to lockdown of March 2020 when we were making sure that people had enough food. We can still worship in person and we can still continue the work we are doing through support groups and all the other stuff, but it all feels a bit precarious. 

It's chaotic, all of this. It leaves us unsettled, fearful, frustrated. We need a way of finding peace, finding a settled place, of laying it all down and simply appreciating the bits of life that we do have that bring us joy (like goats that scream like humans). None of us wanted this to happen again, but here we are. We need to make sure we're caring for other people - those who are vulnerable in our communities, those who are working in frontline services, particularly the NHS right now..... those who have far more to deal with than we can ever imagine. 

Where do we find peace in amongst all of this? Where did Mary and Joseph find peace in amongst the chaos of that first time of waiting? 

They found peace in what they knew. They knew that God is good, that he keeps his promises, and that when he came to earth as a human, it would change the world forever. As they went through the difficulties of pregnancy, of the scandal of pregnancy before marriage, of journeying to Bethlehem when heavily pregnant, of working out what life was going to live like now, of fleeing for fear of their life to Egypt, then these were things that they would have kept coming back to. 

How can we find peace in what we do know? 

Well we know that taking care, distancing, wearing masks, being vaccinated - it all makes a difference. Whatever the force of the new variant, these things will make a difference, even if it sounds like a monster. 

We know that we can manage this because we've managed it before, and whatever happens next, we will continue to be able to do so. It might get worse before it gets better, but it also will get better. It won't go on forever. 

Although we don't know as much as we would like to know, the scientists working on all this know much more about Covid-19 than they have before. They will get on top of this and help us work our way through. 

And we know, like Mary and Joseph, that God is good. In the incarnation we see Word become flesh, God moves into the neighbourhood. He moves in next door. He moves in and sits by us and parties with us when it has to be on zoom. He brings peace where all is in chaos. He promises a better future where this will be no more. He promises so much more. He keeps his promises. In a world of mistrust and insecurity, we can hold onto His Word. 

Immanuel. God is with us. 

"Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel."  Isaiah 7:14

Image from flickr

I love it when a plan comes together

"In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them..... maybe you can hire the A Team..... "

The A Team - reminds me of my childhood TV watching. A crime fighting team of ex-military men running from the military themselves, it was full of ideas and plans and action and all of those things that make a good TV show but don't hurt too much. The leader of the A Team was Hannibal and he was the one who had the plans, but the plans didn't always work out the way he expected, but he had a catchphrase which I say often, because it's the truth of all I aim for when trying to make something work....

"I love it when a plan comes together"

I do. I love it when a plan comes together. In the initial stages of the plan it doesn't seem like it will work, and even whilst whatever it is is happening, the plan shifts all the time, but in the end, so often all the jigsaw pieces come into place, and the plan, it works and I can be satisfied with what I have done. 

One of the things that I love about the story of Jesus coming to earth and moving into the neighbourhood is how everything comes together in such a beautiful interweaving way. It becomes perfect, and is so brilliant, and makes me jump a little inside with excitement. 

I love that you can read the Bible and from the very beginning, there are signs of the Messiah to come, that however broken things get, however much things fall, that all will be made whole again. In the fragments of paradise left after Adam and Eve leave the garden, the signs begin to unfold. Through the stories and the prophets and the overarching narrative, we see the journey towards this moment when the Saviour is born. 

It reminds us that however chaotic things feel right now, however difficult, however perplexing (I spend half my life perplexed), however frustrating, however irritating, that one day, despite all that is around, the overarching story of hope and salvation is realised. 

I love it when a plan comes together. And this.... it's the best plan of all. 

"All this took place to fulfil what the Lord said through the prophet...." Matthew 1:22

Image from flickr

Pressing Pause

Joseph tried to escape today. Crocheted Joseph who has been on a bit of a journey (again) around New Addington and beyond. He jumped out of my handbag and disappeared for a while. It wasn't until I was heading out to do a delivery of mystery things I realised that Mary and the donkey were Josephless. 

Before I did my delivery I thought I'd check at home and, as I often do when I pop in, I didn't drive onto my driveway so that I didn't have the faff of reversing out or in. 

And it's a good job I didn't, because there was Joseph, face firmly planted in the driveway concrete, ready to be run over if I did. 

The big question of the day is how he ended up there? I'm normally so careful and check that nothing escapes. It seems appropriate, though, that the day in my advent readings, that Joseph is troubled about the whole pregnancy situation, that crochet Joseph escapes. 

You would wouldn't you? Your fiance turns up and tells you that she's pregnant and God did it, and you haven't been ever that close to one another for you to be the father.... if you were in the handbag finding this out, you'd jump out - at least that would be your first instinct - this is a sticky situation to be in. It doesn't look good. Even if Joseph can accept it what will the family and the community think? 

In many a sticky situation, our first instinct is to run, to quit, to hide, to give up, to escape. I've felt it when things have been hard. It would be easier wouldn't it not to face up to difficult decisions and or to not try and work out how to deal with the situation you are in? 

But, in many a sticky situation, to run is not the answer. It might be a quick fix, it might get you out of the place, but it doesn't help those still stuck there, and in the long run, it might take you to a place where you know you are not meant to be. 

If Joseph had run, it wouldn't have helped Mary. In fact, she'd have had to face the consequences alone and they were not good (stoning was one option) and Joseph loved her too much. 

So Joseph doesn't run, he thinks about it, and somehow he manages to sleep, and in his sleep he finds out that what Mary says is true, and because of that he realises he has to stay put and work it through. 

When we're in flight mode, a pause can make all of the difference. 

A pause to breathe

A pause to think about what the truth is about the situation you're in

A pause to rest your mind

A pause to find clarity of thought

A pause to talk it through.

A pause to pray.

For Joseph, that pause meant that he could be in the place with the people he was meant to be. For us, that pause might mean learning to thrive despite the sticky situation we find ourselves in because the promises of the future look a bit brighter, or it might mean knowing that it's the right decision to walk away, with a clarity you might not get with an 'I'm going to run' confuddled mind....(note walk away, not run, walk sensibly knowing you've made the right call)..... 

So in that moment, before you jump out of the handbag and end up faceplanted on my driveway, pause, count to 10, sleep on it..... and when you've done that, the decision that you make will be far better conceived and you might just end up in a better place where you are (or somewhere else, maybe). 

"But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream....." Matthew 1:20

Image from flickr

Fearing the next

 

Every few days, I get a little afraid. I unpack a little white plastic thing with a QR code and two holes, one bigger than the other, I take the little silver thing off the top of the clear plastic container with a bit of liquid in. I take a swab from its wrapper trying not to touch the soft end, and then I stick it up my nose, rub it around a bit and then sneeze very loudly, repeat, stick it in the clear plastic container with liquid, spin it, squeeze it, trash it..... put the lid on and then drip drip into the white plastic thing..... and wait 15 minutes. 

Yes, it's the lateral flow test.... and the fear comes in the waiting.... will there be one line, will there be two, or will it be like when you pour fruit shoot on it and it all goes a bit wrong. Thankfully, (please let it always be thankfully), it's been, each time one strong pink line. And when that one line comes, peace reigns. 

But the fear is there. There is a lot to be fearful of at the moment, and as people, as a nation, as the world, we're living in a constant state of anxiety. We spend each day holding on and hoping. We react in different ways - we shout at each other, we hide away quietly, we deny it's even happening, we panic for the future..... 

We all know the reality of being afraid. The idea of life turning upside down in the blink of an eyelid is something that we all have become familiar with as we have felt the solid ground torn from underneath our feet. The unknowing of tomorrow feeds into today. 

But what do we do with this fear? We can't live with it forever. 

The story of waiting in the Bible is full of fear (normally when an angel turns up in an unexpected place). The unknown, the shock, the anticipation of the future, it all brings fear. From Zechariah's encounter with an angel in the temple, to Mary's meeting with Gabriel in her house to the shepherds on the hillside. 

And what does that angel say? 

"Do not be afraid"

How can they not be afraid? How does telling someone not to be scared help them? 

Well it's what happens next. Instead of living within the fear, the angel goes on to tell them what will happen next and what they have to do with the information they are given. 

That doesn't mean that they didn't go on feeling anxious about the future, but it meant that they found peace amongst the world turning upside down that would help them to deal with the what next. 

For Mary, her life would change forever, but once her whys and hows were answered, she could commit to making steps forward because she trusted in what was happening next. 

How can we learn from Mary to deal with the fear that we face?

It has a simple beginning..... we can first admit that the fear is there. The angel said 'don't be afraid' and Mary didn't say 'I'm not', she listened to what the angel had to say. The first step in dealing with how we are feeling is admitting that we are feeling this way. We might find there are others who feel the same. One of the greatest comforts during the pandemic has been knowing that others understand. The angel understood Mary's fears and took them seriously, explaining what was going to happen and helping her understand. It wasn't that Mary felt right at that moment it was going to be alright and simple - it was clear she didn't - she ran away to Elizabeth's for reassurance and to be cared for...... but she faced it knowing she was understood, which enabled her to say yes. 

And once we have admitted the fear is there we can bring it all to God. Mary trusted in God. Her answer to the angel's declaration that God's word never fails showed that. One of the best pieces of advice I have been given this year when I have been fearful is that that is what prayer is all about (yeah, I should know this, but sometimes in the feelings of fear I forget), that where I can't change things, I can lay them at God's feet....and in laying them at God's feet, whilst they don't go away, I can leave them there and I can find peace as I trust them to him. 

And what to do with what comes next? The things that make us fearful won't necessarily have gone away, but facing them with help within the fear makes things easier to bear.

"Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary....." Luke 1:29-30a

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you" 1 Peter 5:7

image from Pixabay

How can I be sure?

When I was a maths teacher, the response when I told people what I did was far too often 'I was never very good at maths'. Turns out they were probably not so bad, but the whole thing with maths at school is there is often a right or a wrong answer and we don't like being wrong - so when we get wrong we think we're a bit rubbish. Actually getting things wrong in maths helps us to learn how to get it right next time. It's OK to get it wrong as long as we learn from that. 

I love how sure you can be in the answer in maths. You can go back and check it, and double check it again, but you know that that number or equation you get at the end is sure to be right. There aren't many questions in life that you get such a sure answer to. 

Being a Baptist minister raises different things. The pupils in my year 9 class the year I left had a number of questions which included 'how can you give up all this money' and 'you baptise adults, do you baptise them naked?'. 

I don't often get such strange questions these days, but I do get asked 'how did you know that that was the right thing to do'. Because God led me here is the answer. 

How can I be sure of that? 

It's difficult isn't it, sometimes, to try and work out how we can be sure of where God is calling us or whether something is what God is saying in response to us. It's often a case of pushing doors and seeing which ones open wide, or trying things out and working your way through. Listening and following the call of God is not always like a maths question where you can go back to the beginning to check if you got the right answer. 

Or do we overthink it too much?

Often, as we look back, we can see how through our life circumstances, through what we have seen happen in our lives, through the relationships we've built and through the things that have been said how we can be sure, and in looking back we can be more convinced about where we are stepping in the future. 

I keep an intermittent journal and it is when I look back at what I have written and what has happened or been said to me that I see how I got to where I am and where I should go next. There is surety in the consequences of my decision making. There is surety in what happens next. There is surety in what I feel God is saying and the signs that are laid out in front of me. I've found surety in rainbows and robins, in random strangers and in things I've seen as I've been out and about. The answer is sure, because on the journey the jigsaw pieces have come together, and they could only come together in that way because of God. Whenever I question whether I'm in the right place right now doing the right thing God will say, hang on a minute - take a look at this - be sure, it all makes sense even if it doesn't seem to when you overthink it..... 

How can I be sure? 

Because God. 

In the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth, Zechariah asks this same question - 'How can I be sure?' - it doesn't make sense - they're old - Elizabeth is too old to have a baby. The Angel Gabriel says.... well..... because God. 

As Zechariah overthinks the idea of pregnancy at their age, the angel makes the answer simple..... because God. 

And that's the thing with faith..... faith is about stepping out into the unknown but with surety that it is the right thing, otherwise you wouldn't step out. It's about not overthinking the strangeness of stepping out into a strange place, but just doing it, knowing that God will hold you fast. Surety is not as far away as we might think.

In a world of uncertainty, to be sure (apart from in maths and other similar things) is a bit strange, but this story reminds us that we can find surety...... 

Because God.

In the unsureness of whatever you're struggling with right now, maybe, like Zechariah, the time might have come to stop with the overthinking, and look up to God and say 'what next? Show me how to be sure'. 

'Zechariah asked the angel, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.”' Luke 1:18

He's Coming (no, I'm not talking about Santa)

 

Last night, after a spontaneous decision to just go for it after craving live orchestral music, I went to see the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus 'Christmas Tales'. The performance included Saint Nicolas by Benjamin Britten, which tells the story of the Saint, who did a number of miracles in his life. One of the stories told in the piece is when he brought back to life three boys who had been cut up and pickled in brine by a butcher whose name wasn't (but probably should have been) Sweeney Todd.

Anyway..... 

The first part of the music that really made me smile was the depiction of his birth. The chorus, telling the story, sang, 

"Nicolas was born in answer to prayer, and leaping from his mother's womb he cried:"

Then a boys voice sang out from the back of the hall "To God be glorified". 

The words then go on to tell the story of Nicolas growing up and how he spoke (sang) of the glory of God wherever he went. That voice from the back of the hall punctuating every bit of the story with glory to God. At the end of the birth section the chorus cries out "Nicolas will be a saint". He rescues sailors caught up in a storm, is made Bishop by the people and the story continues, most famous for his generosity to the poor which many believe began the legend of Santa Claus. 

In the story of St Nicholas, in all the mix up of myth and truth (no one actually knows much about him that is an undisputed fact - he was born, he was Bishop of Myra), we see something of a man who was trying to live a life that did glorify God. In the stories of change, of standing his ground, of helping and caring for those who were in need or had fallen, we see a man whose life pointed and spoke of what he believed, which, naturally points to the one we are waiting for at Advent. The Santa Claus thing - whilst now it distracts us (no, Santa is not a character in the nativity), comes from a place of trying to be Christ's light in the world. 

At the beginning of the Biblical story of Christ's life we find a man who we wouldn't be surprised if when he was born he immediately sang out "To God be glorified". John the Baptist. An answer to the prayers of Elizabeth and Zechariah, conceived far later in their lives than a baby might normally be conceived, created with one task to do, which was to declare that God will be glorified - Jesus is coming. 

As the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah switches from despair to hope, we find our Advent focus moving from waiting and watching to waiting and declaring..... first in a quiet voice, a small voice from the balcony, but the volume will be increased as the story goes on. 

"To God be glorified....." 

He's coming..... (and no, I'm not talking about Santa). Get ready. 

"And he will go on before the Lord..... to make a people prepared for the Lord" Luke 1:17 

Sitting in the Waiting Room

Remember last Advent? It began with so much promise. On Christmas day we'd all be able to get together and celebrate Christmas - I can't even remember what the rules were, but singing (outside) had come back for carol services and the promise of rules being slightly relaxed over Christmas was there. The beginning of December had a sense of anticipation, the rules were different all over the country and we had to have a contingency plan depending on which tier we sat in...... 

But then..... the descent began in earnest..... particularly in London where we fell (or case rates rose) so hard that a new tier was invented to mark the descent. Food orders were cancelled, the surplus we collected for food parcels grew larger and the bedding in began. I was told to 'get out while you can' so I could spend time with my family bubble (a privilege, a blessing, a saving grace as I drove past signs that said 'go home, turn back, all is doomed' on the motorway). The current fear over the omicron variant brings all of that back..... the cancelling of parties and the worry about going out. It's just a bit ominous. 

When all that is hoped for is taken away, the disappointment digs deep. 

For some, though, this reality of disappointment at Christmas is not new. The season of Advent becomes an increasing reminder of what they haven't got, rather than what is coming. The build up towards a celebration that our culture focusses on abundance in family life when family life is lacking, it's bitter sweet, painful, frustrating. 

I love Christmas, the build up, the time with family and friends, the celebration of the birth of the Messiah. I go a bit crazy at times with it all. But in amongst all of that, the reminders that I am on my own and getting older are still there. Ministry is often a lonely vocation, but I've learnt to deal with the lack of a work Christmas do where I can just let go (the pandemic's party pooper attitude is not a problem to me). I still get excited on Christmas morning and wake up far too early even though I am by myself. But.... I also feel lonely at times. I don't have someone to take me out on a Christmas night out and as my years ticked past 40, the promise of my own family to walk through advent with has just about slipped away. But I'm alright, I can manage all of that, I'm mostly content, things are OK for me. 

But I know that there are others who find all of it incredibly hard. Christmas is the loneliest time, a time when brokenness is felt most acutely, when family breakdown is difficult to navigate, when loss is marked by the sad empty chair at the table. In the build up to a celebration that focusses on the birth of a baby, the pain of involuntary childlessness can be hard to bear. 

In the midst of the story of the incarnation, we find a couple who know that pain. Elizabeth and Zechariah, who I would love to know better and understand their story more, have wanted one thing their entire life, but have not been able to have it. Their marriage is one tinged with sadness because the child they desired didn't come. And although the Biblical story does change all of that, let us pause for a moment in their grief.... because this is where some of us are. 

Perhaps in amongst the waiting of advent is not only a call to look ahead to what is coming, but a call to hear and see the frustrations of now. For some waiting is more like being stuck in Holy Saturday, that time between Jesus' death and resurrection where all was silent and dark. There are many for whom living life is learning to find fullness despite..... and navigating the waiting room is working out how that is possible for them. 

So in our waiting, let us be aware that there are people close by who have been waiting forever, the promise of the light at the end of the tunnel has been dragged further and further away, or the route has been changed to one they didn't expect to take. Let us sit with them where they are, be with them as they work out the way out of the waiting room, let us pray for new hope.

 "And when the time for the burning of incense came, all the assembled worshippers were praying outside"  Luke 1:10

Image from flickr

Advent Promise

I won't do that again, I promise. 

It will be better next time, I promise to try harder.

You'll get through this, I promise to be walk with you as you do. 

I promise to stand by you. 

I promise. 

“Sometimes people don’t understand the promises they’re making when they make them. But you keep the promise anyway. That’s what love is. Love is keeping the promise anyway.” John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Advent is a season of promise. The promise of there being a peanut butter cup behind every door of my advent calendar. The promise of having time and space to see family and friends. The promise of some time off. The promise of a day of celebration. The promise of more and better. 

This morning I woke up far too early (don't even ask) and I was reflecting on how much I want to be with my family during the run up to Christmas. I'd love to live a bit closer to my family but I am always reminded that as I followed God's call into ministry, I promised that I would serve and honour Him as best as I can, and that in the move to the far south He promised that if I was prepared to be planted where He called me to, that He would make all things well. 

But, one of the frustrations during Advent 2021 is that things are really not well right now are they? In that move, although I knew the path in front, I did not know the path ahead. Who could have predicted that within less than a year of moving I would be leading a church through a pandemic? (and in exactly three years after accepting the call (that's today I think) we'd still be navigating this weird road). We're still waiting..... 

The story of the incarnation is one of love amongst pain, amongst suffering, amongst waiting for it all to be made well. During Advent we look to Jesus' birth knowing that when he grew up he suffered the most gruesome death. Advent points to the Kingdom of God coming, but we're still living amongst the frustrations of waiting for that to be fully realised. We're still waiting.....

For those awaiting the Messiah in the Biblical story, in their frustration in the waiting, in the trials and tribulations of a life full of conflict and uncertainty, they held onto that promise of God made in love which, later was expressed so deeply and widely on the cross. 

As we await the coming King, we hold onto that promise that all will be made right - it's not a promise that is made by someone who can just as easily break it as make it, but the promise of God, which is everything we need it to be, and far far more. 

"The days are coming", declares the Lord, "when I will fulfil the good promise I made....." Jeremiah 33:14a

On Waiting

Advent has crept upon us in our waiting for all this to end, in our disappointment that things are looking precarious again, in our hopes for a Christmas less weird than last year - the build up less of a downhill slope to lockdown. When this all began, the thought of it all lasting to one Christmas, never mind two, was far beyond our comprehension, yet here we are, once again, watching the news for signs of what will come next. 

The waiting has been far too long. 

It's like advent has never gone away. Advent means coming. Better ahead is coming. Better is on its way. Better is almost in sight. Better is perhaps, continually, just beyond our grasp.  

Advent is a time of preparation, a time of anticipation, a time of hopefulness. 

But, it seems like the end of this long advent keeps being moved. 

How do we find hope when the light at the end of the pandemic tunnel keeps dimming? 

Hope is right here. 

There is hope in the fact that the light is there, that there is a promised end to all of this, and it will one day come, even if it seems further away right now.

There is hope in the advances that are being made in treating and understanding the virus, anticipating and watching its next move, scientists continue to work to find a way through.

There is hope in the fact that pandemics have ended before, and the viruses have become less dangerous than they were. 

There is hope in the way that so many of us are looking out for one another as we test and step cautiously, as we keep an eye out for our neighbours and family and friends and as we continue to remember what we learnt about community in the first waves of a virus that we don't understand.

And there is hope, because whilst advent is about waiting, THE advent that we wait within has a light at the end where all sickness will be no more..... because advent is not just a count down to Christmas, but is a count up to when Jesus comes again, and all this that we worry about, all the pain and suffering we fear, it will end, and the future ahead will be glorious. 

In the meanwhile, as we wait, let us not just sit in the dark, but anticipate the light ahead by bringing some of that light wherever we are. In love and in healing, in patient waiting and hope, in caring for one another and sharing what we have. The way things are are not the way things have to be forever.... or even the way things have to be right now. 

"The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn't put it out" John 1:5 (MSG)

(image from rawpixel.com)

The Unknown

 

"If you could see 

the journey whole,

you might never

undertake it,

might never dare

the first step

that propels you

from the place 

you have known

toward the place

you know not"

From "Those who have far to travel" by Jan Richardson

I've had this poem on my wall since I first heard it when I gathered with other ministers - the first time I'd met most of them in person and not on zoom - a few months ago. On that day, as we were retreating together, the weight of leading a church through the pandemic and all the effects of that on me, my relationships and my own sense of identity began to feel like something I couldn't carry for much longer. The burden was too heavy, and I knew, if I didn't do something, I would break. 

As we read this poem I didn't get past this first verse. When I first moved to the far south, I moved with a sense of unknowing, uncertainty, but sure that this was where I was meant to be. I had had music played over me that spoke of me going, not only on a journey south, but on a journey myself, and this poem reminded me of that. 

I reflected on that day when I first met this poem, that if I could have known the things that lay ahead when I first answered God's call, I may have never made the journey, but in the blurriness of it all, the ahead was enough - the mystery propelled me forward and brought me to a place where everything was unknown. 

And sometimes, the unknown is where you should be. 

In remembering that, it reminded me that in all my efforts to find certainty, to take control, to keep a handle of things in the pandemic chaos, I'd been trying to hang on too tightly to something that was too difficult to hang onto. The pandemic storm and all its after effects have not been something we have been ever able to get a handle on. Our mantra of 'one day at a time' or even 'one hour at a time' has always said that, but our actions have not necessarily said the same thing. 

Last night as I was waiting for yet another zoom, I looked up to my right and there was this poem and I remembered that maybe the unknown of the last 18 months, the journey I've been on, the things that have almost broken me, is part of the journey that God has called me on in moving south. 

It's taught me that I can't stay in control, however hard I try. It's taught me to listen to the voices around me who say that I am doing well. It's taught me to know and value the gifts God has given to me and my capability and strength that only come from Him. It's taught me that despite the chaos around, God is still doing good things, that lives are still being changed and there are things to celebrate. 

It's taught me that when I bring something to God in prayer I can lay it down at His feet and there it can stay. Let go and let God, and sit at His feet. 

When we are at our lowest, when things hurt more than we can possibly dream, when our head is racing and we're not sure how we can grasp something that is running away, perhaps resting in the unknown is where we should be. We don't need to know every waypoint on the journey we are called to, we need to know that the one who is guiding us is sure of the way. 

"The Lord is the one who is going ahead of you. He will be with you. He won’t abandon you or leave you. So don’t be afraid or terrified" Deuteronomy 31:8

Instructions not included

I've had a bag of Lego on my desk for a while. I don't know where it came from, but I think I found it lying around and claimed it. 

Yesterday I decided to open it and make what was inside. The picture on the outside of the bag promised much, but inside there were no instructions. Maybe that's normal for these kinds of bags of Lego, or maybe that's why it had been discarded, or donated, or whatever happened with it. 

Being a resourceful person, I decided that I could probably make it using the picture as a guide. I started with the bits I could see most clearly on the picture, which, with a bit of manoeuvring, rotating and inspecting the picture closely were quite easy. It was beginning to look like a train. 

It was the next bit that was hard. I couldn't really see what was going on underneath and there were a few irritating bits where I had to get up close and personal with the picture and try and work out if it was two pieces or one, but in the end the outcome didn't look bad and resembled the picture quite nicely.

But then I put the train down on the table and it tilted. The front wheels far too small and the back far too big - misaligned and not quite stable with two spare pieces that I have no idea where they go. 

I eventually figured out that to make it stable it probably needed a track - some kind of rails to give it some direction and stability, showing it the way to go. 

Whilst I was building the train I reflected on how the mystery of how it fitted together is a bit like trying to lead a church - particularly trying to lead a church right now. The picture of what we think it might look like is there, but how the pieces fit together is a bit of a mystery. The pieces aren't necessarily the pieces we expect, and don't fit together in a logical order sometimes.... yet something is being built. 

Where the pandemic scattered our pieces and the instruction book that went with them, as we come back together the pieces aren't necessarily fitting together easily. Key pieces are missing because people have moved away or disappeared or are still nervous about stepping out into the world. What we are trying to piece back together is not quite the same as the picture that we might imagine is on the outside of the bag and when the pieces seem to be put into place, the end product, it leans..... and there are some bits that don't seem to have found a place at all. 

When I looked back at that picture I noticed that it wasn't because the wheels were wrong, but because the wheels had no track to sit on. Perhaps if the wheels had a track to sit on, then the train would feel stable and the pieces that were struggling to find a place right now could be carried without falling out. 

As we cling on to the picture we hope will emerge, beneath our feet has got to be a track to hold us steady, and what might seem to be a track made of Christian cheese, those rails that hold us steady - they are the rails that Jesus laid when he said, come follow me. 

As we seek to put the pieces back together, we've got to remember that however finished the final model is, without rails, it will just be wonky and functioning will very likely be a challenge because a wonky train without tracks is not going to get very far under its own steam.....

"Everybody says they want to be free. Take the train off the tracks and it's free - but it can't go anywhere" - Zig Ziglar 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your [tracks] straight" Proverbs 3:5-6

Faithfulness

My Grandad Dan played the organ. I will always remember him sitting at the organ at Durham City Baptist Church, tongue in its place that showed his concentration, playing with all his strength despite his MS, worshipping as he played, believing that the words that were being sung to the music he was playing were true. He held those truths in his heart. 

At his funeral (a long time ago now, I was only a teenager), we sang the hymn 'Great is Thy Faithfulness' (I'm doubting myself right now because it's one of those weeks, but I'm just about convinced - the hymn always reminds me of him), and as I attended the church up the road today online (because when you've put together an online service you don't always want to watch yourself preach or take communion with yourself) we finished with the same hymn..... and my thoughts went back to my Granddad, as they often do. 

What would he have thought at a time like this? How would he have reacted? 

I don't know really - he died before I started to have too many in depth conversations about faith and life.... but I'd imagine he'd be frustrated. I'd imagine that over the past 18 months the loss of freedoms in worship would have got him down. I'd imagine that my Grandma would have been anxious and my Grandad would have had to try and be the level one. 

It seems so long ago that my Grandad died and my biggest memories of him, as well as the organ playing, are him sneaking a cigarette on a walk on the cold Hartlepool seafront telling us not to tell our Grandma because despite 40 years of marriage she 'didn't know' and teas where the offer of jam tarts was often on the table..... yet in amongst the ordinariness of all that (ordinariness in a Nicholls way), he continued to walk in the ways of God and God continued to be faithful in his life, working through him in amazing ways. 

The writer of the hymn 'Great is thy faithfulness', Thomas Chisholm, lived an ordinary life, there was no big disaster or time of grief or significant encounter that inspired the hymn, just words of faithfulness from the prophet Jeremiah in Lamentations 3. It was written in 1923, which was not long after my Granddad was born, so he would have grown up with it. It's a hymn of how God is with you through all the significant and insignificant times. It's like the footprints poem but with a deeper dig into the theology of it. God never leaves you and provides hope for tomorrow. Whatever today brings, there is better and more ahead. God is with you in the most ordinary of moments as well as the less ordinary ones. 

It pops up quite often at significant times and this morning as it popped up it moved me. I've been in isolation for 6 days and it's getting me down and Sunday is always worse because I just want to be with my church family, but in this hymn I was reminded of how God has been faithful through the last 18 months (and before that)..... that somehow we've got to today and I'm still standing firm -  church is standing just about together and things are looking up. 

The next few weeks feel uncertain. I feel like I'm meant to be excited about restrictions easing, but I am really not. The pandemic hasn't eased up enough for me to be anywhere near excited and I continue to be fearful. The weight of the next is heavy and self isolation has brought more time for reflection on this. 

But, in this song I am reminded that through the lives of those who have gone before I have seen God's faithfulness. Through the lives of those who are walking with me now, I have seen and experienced God's faithfulness.... and through the lives of those who are going to walk beyond the path God has put me on now, he will continue to be faithful.... because that is Him.... that is God.

Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father. 
There is no shadow of turning with thee
Thou changest not, they compassions, the fail not
As thou hast been thou forever wilt be. 

----------------------------------------------------------

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,
    his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.
They’re created new every morning.
    How great your faithfulness!
I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).
    He’s all I’ve got left.      Lamentations 3:22-23 (Message Version)