This is not how things are supposed to be

2020 made me ranty. 2021 has made me stroppy...... or grumpy, or just a bit fed up with it all. This is not how things are supposed to be. Whilst the light is at the end of the tunnel ahead, we're still in a tightly packed tunnel of pandemic and we're still waiting, frustrated, for everything to become a bit better, a bit more in person really.

I was stroppy walking on Sunday between releasing our online service and meeting on zoom frustrated at yet another Sunday online, ranting a little about how this, this present time is not what I am called to as a minister. I am called as a community builder, which is why I didn't train in cyber, and although I can pick up the simpler not all singing all dancing online stuff easily, I am not buying the 'forever online' mantra. 

My stroppy walking was aimed at God. Taking inspiration from the Psalms and Lamentations of scripture where reality is laid before God I laid how I was feeling before him. God called me to minister in this place so strongly, yet here I am, living on my own in a pandemic and trying to minister in an environment that is so alien, each day is a new thing learnt. As I reflected on my call, a robin hopped across my path. 

Now, if you know my story, you might have heard me talking about robins and the encounters I have had on the journey. On my first trip here, God spoke to me through a robin playing in the rain - if that robin could enjoy itself so much in the rain, surely I could move here. When considering my second trip here and deciding to come, the moment(ish) I decided to come a robin sat singing right in front of me in a tree. 

So on Sunday, as the robin hopped across my path I said to God - 'come on, that's a bit of a cheesy way to remind me of my call isn't it?' So I walked a little bit more and there, what was in my path, but a robin, a different one, plumper.... then another.... and then as I walked on the sun was trying to find a way out of the lingering fog. I stood and watched, reminded that despite the unusual times, God is still here and God calls me now - not to how things used to be, or even necessarily to how things will be, but to right now, he calls me.

Over lockdown and semi-lockdown and should-be-lockdown-but-isn't as worship services have been shut or a open yet stressful, finding space to be with God has been different, yet slightly familiar. It's in the standing in the trees looking at the birds that God has been speaking - feet rooted to the ground as the roots dig deep into the soil to find their nourishment, birds singing God's song over me and reminding me that life, community, joy continues.

I've been reminded once again this week not only of my calling, but of God's presence - that he is here amongst us and he is our safe place, our sanctuary, our one constant who stays stable amongst the chaos. He made each one of us and however much we feel inadequate or ill-equipped to do what we are doing now, he looks at us with pleasure, because we are here and we're trying..... and it will get better, he promises us that. 

"Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.”  Jeremiah 17:7-8

   

 

The singing won't stop

I miss singing with other people. I miss hearing others voices as I try and sing with them. I miss being part of the beautiful sound a choir can make when singing together. I miss singing in worship. I miss hearing the congregation sing in worship. I miss the uplift of singing, the community building nature of corporate singing, the joy that singing with others brings. 

My well being has been affected by not being able to sing with other people.... and it's been too long. I sang Silent Night with my support bubble on the doorstep on Christmas Eve and it felt slightly naughty and definitely weird in a 'I'm not used to this' kind of way. Singing is good for the soul and I miss it and want it to be normal not weird. 

A number of articles have been coming out about how maybe we might use this time to move away from corporate singing in worship, that because we can't sing together, we might focus on other ways of worshipping, and our worship will be enriched. Well, yes, I get that.... and that's great. I'm all up for creative worship - once I get my creative on I'm unstoppable.... and I value words and art and creating stuff in enabling me to worship (not dancing so much, but that'd be my awkwardness more than anything else), but I particularly value singing, and not just because I like it, but because it feels integral to my being. When I read those articles and the comments about them, I just wanted to cry (and sing). 

I believe singing is something that God has created me to do, and, although I can sing on my own, not being able to sing with others leaves something lacking. There is an uncomfortable rhetoric around that God is using the pandemic to change the way we worship to move away from singing.... God might be helping us to get our creative juices flowing, but I'm not sure he's really working towards stopping us singing corporately when we can......  

Singing and songwriting has always been key at times of crisis and re-orientating - read some of the stories behind the hymns that have lasted the test of time and you can hear that. Amazing Grace, written by John Newton as he recognised his culpability in the act of slavery but also the forgiveness he received as he turned away from his wrong ways. It is Well with my Soul was written by Horatio Spattford after a fire had destroyed his business and his wife and daughters had lost their lives in a tragic ocean accident. Augustus Toplady wrote Rock of Ages after having to find shelter in a gorge in a storm.... and the stories continue..... just look at all those Psalms.  

Spirituals helped enslaved people express both their Christian values and the hardships of slavery - full of hope for the future under impossibly difficult circumstances - hope of going home, hope of freedom, hope of far better than what they were experiencing. The stories told through blues and folk music speak of journeys and hardship and heading onwards and fighting on.... and there'll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover.

The trouble is in this crisis, the crisis has stopped us expressing our hope in song alongside one another, and it makes it harder than it already is. 

Songs and singing are associated with time and space. This song got me through, we sang a lot of this song at that time. 10000 reasons was the song of my ordination year, sang at every ordination but one reminding us all of the goodness of God, Waymaker the song of my first year in New Addington and will always remind me of the first wedding I took here. The Father's Song, a song that has kept me going when I have had doubts in my own abilities, will now be forever shared with Angela who died far too soon as she contracted Covid and couldn't fight it - yet she knew that God has always been there and enfolded her with eternal love (I would have loved to be able to sing it to her). 

We sing to worship, we sing to remember, we sing for wellbeing, we sing to protest, we keep on singing - it's a way of expressing who we are and what matters. And singing with other people makes it so much better. 

I look forward to a day when I can stand next to someone, many people, and sing my heart out, where I don't only have to hear my own voice and the track played through zoom and where all the intertwining of voices, in and out of tune will make a beautiful sound. The pandemic is pausing singing with others, is pausing singing in worship, but it will begin again.... 

And, when we're allowed, try and stop me..... the singing won't stop.