Women, Ministry and Baptist Life. What next?

Since I wrote my blog on the more recent experiences of Baptist Ministry I've had a lot of feedback and encouragement. Women who have experienced the same have appreciated me putting it into words, those who have noticed the shift as they've watched the world change around them have expressed solidarity. Male colleagues in ministry have expressed sadness, anger and disappointment as well as deeply passionate and genuine support. One or two have asked what they can do to support me, and how to support women in general. 

It is the last I address now. This list is not definitive, and I am only one woman, with one woman's experience. I suggest that we all need to talk to and get to know the women ministers around us and hear what they say and experience - and then respond accordingly. 

Here is my personal list. 

Firstly keep your eyes and ears open to what is going on around you. If you haven't picked up on the trends that I've observed in my previous post, then test them, check them, see where they are true. You may be in rooms and at tables where it is normal to debate a theology that affects people calling and lives - how are you speaking into those spaces? If you were the woman in the room how would you feel? Someone said to me recently "I hear you are into women's ministry". I replied "well I am one". The people who are being talked about and whose ministry is being dismissed are often sitting there in the room. We might try hard to find balance in representation, but it isn't always reflected in how welcome is offered. 

Secondly, don't just get angry, call it out. I really appreciate the solidarity that so many of my male colleagues in ministry show by the way they stand by my side and seek to understand how this makes me feel. They affirm me, celebrate me and appreciate me. Carry on doing that - it does help.... but it could be taken one step further. If someone deliberately puts up barriers to women getting involved, ask why. If someone speaks out or preaches against women in ministry in a way that hurts their women colleagues unnecessarily, pick them up on it. They may not even know what they are doing. Call out unhelpful conversations in cluster meetings. Speak out your own views, drown out the rising voices. Walk away and refuse to participate - that's what some women are doing. 

Thirdly, check your own language and behaviour. You can say that you are supportive of women in ministry, but then, when the atmosphere is right, you get taken by the crowd. You can say you are supportive of women in ministry, but then you worry too much about what others may think. You can say you are supportive of women in ministry, but then you refer to all ministers as he or him or bros. You can say you are supportive of women in ministry, but always make sure your opinion is heard above theirs. Big up the work of Project Violet - don't play it down, depending on the room you are in. Live and speak like the Baptist Union has accepted and affirmed women in ministry for over 100 years. 

Fourthly, celebrate your female colleagues, make space for them in your pulpit (not just on Mothering Sunday or when you are on holiday), invite them to the tables where decisions are made, recognise them as equals, think carefully about whether its OK to take part in events where women may be invited but not fully allowed to participate (sometimes I think it is - if we're not in the room, how will things change?). Some of the hardest places for women who are gifted and called are those that allow women in, but only to a certain level, or only to speak if accompanied or "covered" by a husband or colleague. It's the reality of the space we live in. 

And finally in those places and conversations where women's ministry and gifts are not fully celebrated, encourage respect, consideration, helpful language and understanding. Ask the difficult questions that hang in the air.  

We are all human beings, made in the image of God, after all. 

Called, Tested, and Tired: Women, Ministry, and Baptist Life

 

On the way back from a Leeds University Christian Union Houseparty I had helped organise as treasurer, I was sat in the car with a former CU exec member as he drove along the M62 and he turned to me in the car and said, “Claire, you’re going to be a minister one day.” I’ve never forgotten that moment. When I tell the story of my call, I begin there. 

The call to ministry is a strange, all-encompassing journey of being convinced and giving in (that’s my experience anyway). It’s a call that you know will be sacrificial, change your life, and is only determined by God. The reason why we test a call to ministry so thoroughly is because it’s about who you are, not what you can do. It’s realising there is nothing else you should be doing but this. It’s knowing that God made you this way and by obeying his call you are completely submitting yourself to him.

As I grew up, I rarely met a woman minister, yet I was raised to believe I could become all God created me to be. I was a high achiever, always doing my best at school. I was a loner, not following the crowd, but trying to be my own person, perhaps at the back of my mind knowing that as someone made in the image of God, I needed to be no one but me. It has only been on my journey of call that I have discovered that there are people out there who think me being me is not who God has made me to be because they believe the Bible tells them so.

Being a woman in Baptist ministry brings with it a tension. A tension that I choose to live with because I love the Baptist family. This tension is created by our commitment to local church autonomy: some churches wholeheartedly affirm women’s leadership; there are a few who do not; and there are others in between. 

I am not going argue my position on women in ministry, because it is clear from my role that I believe it to be right and God ordained. I believe my call to be true. I believe that God spoke to me clearly in a tent when he gave me Isaiah 6 and told me I am one he wants to send. On my year out working with Christian Unions I studied fastidiously the texts that people continue to use to clobber me now and believed that I still needed to explore God’s call. I spent ten years exploring that – I did not come into this lightly. The Baptist Union has had a clear position as a body on women in ministry for a long time now, and I’ve written a resource, along with others, that helps churches explore that egalitarian theology, which is out there. I believe on that I have said enough, and I’m tired of arguing my very being with people (both men and women) who want to throw it back in my face. And there are other people who can do that better than I can. 

As a Regional Minister in London, I see both the beauty and the brokenness of Baptist life. I see unexpected growth, baptisms where the baptistry hasn't been opened in years, and churches persevering through hardship. I get to see and work with the amazing diversity of our churches, all trying to follow the way of Jesus as they seek to love and serve him in their communities.

But I also see the darker side: insecurity, control, and the quiet sidelining of certain voices. And over the past few years, I’ve seen that very acutely on the call of women into ministry. As I’ve talked about it with a number of colleagues – it sounds and feels like it's getting harder for women – and here I’d like to explore the reasons why:

Permission to Speak Out

I began this role in the midst of an incredible difficult season in our union - in the midst of the marriage consultation where existing divisions were highlighted. Debates about sexuality mixed with arguments about authority, and in that climate the question of women’s leadership became entangled in the conversation. Complementarian voices began to grow louder. 

The women in ministry argument became so entangled that when the results came out, and it was decided that the rules wouldn’t change, that it was noted that women were more likely to be voting for change, and therefore, in some commenters opinions, women were more likely to be theologically liberal. Assumptions were made online and left to fester and grow. (As an aside my personal take on this is that women are more used to living in tension, being that not all churches will accept them, and so living in tension amongst others whose theology of sexuality they might disagree with was an easier gap to leap). 

Public statements about male headship, in church and home, gained confidence, particularly as more prominent Baptist voices spoke out. What had once been spoken cautiously began to be said more openly, published online, discussed, not fully withdrawn, and instead pushed into the faces of women who are called to these roles. 

The need to be heard in the consultation debate, the assumptive interpretation of the results and the voices of some leaders within our union getting louder – it gave permission to speak out.

I remember my first ever ministers conference, where I was given the task of finding male advocates for women in ministry. I had a list of men who I needed to speak to, and I approached one, locally recognised minister, who took great pleasure in telling me, a woman minister in training, that my call to ministry was against creations order.

I thought that was a one off – but it’s not. Most recently, an experienced woman minister told me how she got caught up in a conversation about women in ministry with her male colleagues, which ended for her when one of those men told her she shouldn’t even be a minister. This confirmed to me what I had been feeling - that this was becoming more, not less, commonplace. 

The Backlash to Project Violet

Project Violet confirmed what many women already knew – that despite significant progress, structural and cultural barriers remain. While many welcomed its recommendations, others reacted defensively, suggesting that encouraging women disadvantages men or that the church has become “too feminised.” 

Project Violet has handed women a voice that has been muffled for some time and there are those who don’t like this and they talk back. Subtle, seemingly reasonable questions, often with a misogynistic twinge.

This backlash to women speaking out is not new or confined to the church, but we need to be aware of the effect it is having. There are some people who will not engage with the research, who will stay away from events, because they already fear what it means for them and believe it closes opportunities that were open before. 

Yet the Project has never been simply about privileging women; it is about the flourishing of the whole church—creating space for all whom God calls, especially those historically marginalised.

There is a rise in Non-Accredited ministers

There is a crisis of ministry in the Baptist Union - people are not coming forward for training. Why is this? There are probably a number of reasons that I won't go into here... but it's led to a change in our churches. 

That broader ministry shortage has led churches to look beyond accredited Baptist ministry, often calling leaders shaped in complementarian contexts. The worry for me is that this may gradually reshape our common life and theology. We face real questions about identity, accountability, and what we expect of those who serve among us. Will we need to begin to create a set of expectations and guidelines that is firmer on how churches and ministers might covenant with and respect those who hold a different view of women in ministry? Will we need to move towards being affirming (or at least accepting) of women in ministry being a requirement rather than a choice?

The Bigger Picture

Overlaying this is the so-called “Quiet Revival.” I love what we are hearing about the number of younger people arriving in our churches and how they are coming to faith and growing in Christ - particularly evident in the rise of numbers of young men. While any movement towards faith is good news, there are uneasy intersections with wider cultural currents, including forms of Christian nationalism and hyper-masculine Christianity. If some young men arrive formed by those narratives, how will that shape our churches? And what will it mean for women’s leadership?

There is anecdotal evidence to suggest that young men are more likely to vote reform and turn up at church and young women are more likely to vote Green and leave. We need to be aware of this and its effect on our churches. In her book “The Struggle to Stay”, author Katie Gaddini writes about how single evangelical women are leaving the church because they are not being enabled to be all they are called to be – because as men step up, they are being sidelined, seemingly only there to fill a gap, rather than be valued as who they are. 

This is echoed in one of the recent comments I have heard from a Baptist minister about women in ministry, stating that we are only there because men are not stepping up.

What happens when these young men step up? Will women be expected to step down by those who hold these views, however quiet and under the radar those views are? 

We need to hold these questions that hang in the air, and be mindful as we disciple those who arrive at our doors, that they are taught to embrace Jesus who loves them just as they are, but not to the detriment of others. 

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I do not pretend to have clear solutions, but I believe we must name what is happening. I ask for others - my brothers in ministry in particular, to pay attention, to listen carefully, and to walk with us towards a more level place—where women are not merely tolerated, but truly able to thrive in God’s call.

Because, in this moment, many of us are exhausted with it all. 

Searching for Christ(mas)

In the centre of every nativity scene sits a manger, or a crib, or a bottom drawer, or a packing box, or a bundle of blankets carefully but haphazardly arranged. 

In the twinkling lights, the candles, the laser shows, the stars, the tinsel that catches a glimmer of the street lights as the wind blows through the gaps in the windows. 

Behind advent doors, filled with the taste of goodness, surprises, unexpected creative gifts, the carefully planned messages planned meticulously each year. 

In the faces gazing through windows at the want but can’t have, in the lingering prayers and laughter of the loved one lost that hang around the room resting on the seat where she always sat. 

In the sacrifices, the generosity, the hampers that are packed - in those for whom a hamper makes Christmas, and those who get a feeling of warmth inside as they seek to bless. 

In gentle touches and in embraces, in those who simply sit, presence felt, silence valued. 

In knowing that a greater love than has ever been known lays thick in the air. Expectation, restoration, salvation, heard in the gentle gurgle of a well fed baby boy who surprised his parents and nearly turned up on a donkey. 

The word became flesh and moved into the neighbourhood.

Christ never left, you know. We don’t have to force him back into the Christmas box of all we think it should be. 

Every year there are rumours of a Christmas ban, of Christmas lights being ripped down, symbolic of our Christian core being ripped from the body of whatever it means to be a Christian nation. Of Christ being removed from Christmas. 

But Christ never left, you know. 

If you’ve lost sight of him then you might just find him waiting for you amongst the lonely, the hungry, the broken and the sick. 

You might just find him with those who have no place to call home, who are displaced, unable to return to a place ravaged by war and corruption.

You might just find him on the shore, waiting for the boats, caring for those who have just about survived a crossing full of deceptive hope of better because of a  new life that has been mis-sold. 

He’s here, in these streets, bringing light in the most dark and lonely of corners. Shining bright on the hillside, proclaiming hope, glowing beauty amongst the broken, possibility amongst despair. 

He chose where to dwell - in the neighbourhood. Amongst us. 

He never left, you know. 

Give it Time

Turn it off and on again. 

If you leave it for 10 minutes it'll work.

Try it again it's a bit temperamental. 

I'll go and get "...." - they know how to make it work. 

How long do we wait until we try another way? 

Give it Time. 

Last night I had an appointment near Westminster Bridge that finished about 6pm. The worst time to travel. My journey home took me via Waterloo (which has now lost its status as the busiest station in London to Liverpool Street, but is still awful at 6pm on a week day evening). I had two choices - Jubilee Line change at Canary Wharf or Northern Line, change at Tottenham Court Road. I chose the first. 

On arrival at the platform I realised that I had chosen wrongly. The platform was full of people queuing for the doors (only on the Jubilee line do people form into a queue - a jubilee quirk). The train arrived, the queue went nowhere as noone was able to get off the train, it was an actual tin of sardines at the door I had chosen. I had a decision to make - do I wait for the next train which will inevitably be as disappointing or do I change route completely? I chose the second. 

A long walk with travelators to the other side of Waterloo Underground. The trains, still full, were better, and for a moment then I thought I had chosen wisely. I even got a seat after the first stop. On arrival at Tottenham Court Road the train emptied, and the inevitable bottle neck at the exit didn't clear before the next train came. Like a blocked drain, we shuffled our way up the stairs as a very brave (or foolish) man tried to swim against the tide and got stuck half way down the stairs. The crowd divided at the top of the stairs and with relief, I believed I had chosen wisely. Hoping that the next bit of the journey would be more pleasant (it was 7pm by now), I arrived at the Elizabeth Line platform, where there was a train (not mine) with the doors open. I looked up at the information screen and it had the eight letter mystery word on the screen "delayed". But for how long? 

The train at the platform closed it doors, and the platform breathed a synchronised sigh of relief. 

It didn't move. 

The group of friends behind me considered their actions. Do they wait and see what happens or do they try another way? Their animated discussion included an analysis of how long they would leave it before they turned back on themselves. As they discussed there was an announcement. "We're sorry for the delay, the train is having issues, but we'll be on our way soon". 

The people behind me estimated 4 minutes as the optimum time. The man to the left of me was repeating the announcement loudly either to himself or to the hidden phone in his beard. 

The people behind me left. 

The announcer began to announce again and was interrupted. Another announcer piped up. "The driver is currently resetting the train, it will be on its way shortly".

A woman comes up to the closed doors, pressing the button trying to get on. She signals to the people inside "can you open the door?". "Alas, no", their forlorn exasperated faces replied back. She stood, lost, not knowing what to do. The people on the train stared at the people on the platform and the people on the platform stared back. The man to my left repeated the announcement from earlier loudly. 

(And repeat the last two paragraphs x 2)

The train began to move. There was an inaudible cheer on the platform as people cheered in their heads, not wanting to interrupt the silence of the delayed rush hour crowd. 

The information board flashed "the next train doesn't stop here". The silent cheer turned into silent groans. The woman staring at the door willing it to open hoped that this meant the next train would be hers. 

Give it Time. 

How do you know when it is time to stop giving it time? There is a time to give it more time and a time to not. If I had persevered on my first chosen route would I have been home an hour earlier? Probably not, because the resetting train eventually caused major delays for everyone. 

In the waiting, how do we know when too much waiting is too much? 

In Luke 13 Jesus tells the story of a man who has a vineyard where there is a fig tree that is not producing fruit. For three years the owner has seen no fruit. He asks the one who looks after the vineyard, what should he do? 

The man says "give it one more year", give it time. Look after it, nurture it, fertilise it, and then let's see next year, and if it doesn't provide fruit, we'll think again.

There is a time to give it more time, and there is a time to not. Maybe sometimes the waiting is about making time to find or even create the right solution, the right way ahead, the way that will provide an answer next time. Advent waiting gives us hope in the delay. 

Give it time, listen for the announcements and ask for advice from those who know a little bit more. 

There is a time to give it more time and a time to not. 

There is a time to nurture and a time to cut down. 

There is a time to give up and a time to reset. 

There is a time to wait and a time to say now is the time. 

May God give you peace in the waiting and the knowledge to know the time in the now. 

I made it home.  

In the Silence

We've all been there. Waiting. 

And waiting some more. 

There is no response, or the excruciating hold music seems to go on forever as you shift through the queue slower than snails pace, or your ask for an answer is responded to with an excuse that is pathetic and unwanted but difficult to argue with. 

Waiting looking into a void where the answer is so far away it is not even a dot. 

Prayer can be a bit like that. 

I've been chewing over the story of the persistent widow in Luke 18 for a few days now, unable to climb over the 'but what if you pray and there is no response?' question. The 'what if God is silent?' question. Is he there or has he gone on holiday? Has he forgotten me? 

It's one of the questions I find most difficult to answer and when we wait for  answers that are a long time in coming the silence does echo round the void. I've walked with others through this question many times - I've sat with them and wept with them in the silence... and its a tough place to be.

It's a question that many of us have wrestled with on our own behalf and on behalf of others and where the answer never seems enough, and instead we rely on the incomprehensible feeling of peace that God does bring in the most difficult of storms. Peace that passes all understanding. 

When God says wait.... and when he doesn't even say wait and is silent.... what can we do? 

The parable of the persistent widow tells us to persevere because God is good and right and just. 

Well that's true, but that might also be one of those answers that is a bit annoying, especially when the waiting is tiring you out and the silence is painful. 

What does persevering in prayer look and sound like when the whisper of an answer isn't there? 

It is remembering that we live in a broken and fallen world, and it is in this world that we pray for God's Kingdom to come. We recognise that suffering is a part of life, but we still pray for God's Kingdom to come. If we live with hope and expectation that at some point the suffering will end, then we can put on the shield of faith and look forward to the day that it will - it is our responsibility to cry out to God to change things as we point to signs of his kingdom coming. It is an opportunity to look ahead with hope to different. 

It is remembering that we are not in this on our own. When we get tired of it all, we turn to others to help us hold up our arms. We turn to God and say help me persevere. Jesus intercedes for us (Hebrews 7:25). The Holy Spirit prays for us in 'groans that words cannot express' (Romans 8:26). 

It is sometimes learning to live with what is and what has been as we best we can, and asking God to hold it and us, knowing that he understands the pain and frustration we may have to endure and that he is the bringer of peace that passes all understanding in the midst of the storm. Persevering alongside someone is trying to act a bit more like this in it all - not always asking them if the prayer has worked yet, but sitting with them and lamenting that it's all a bit rubbish really, and praying together to find peace as well as answers.

Perhaps perseverance is simply knowing that God will eventually speak, and will eventually act, and will eventually change things, but that right now the picture is more complicated than a simple answer, and so choosing to find comfort in the knowledge that where we sit and pray and question in the silence, God is there - in companiable silence - the kind of silence that makes us feel safe, that makes us feel loved, and helps us to know that there is light - even in the darkest places. 

The Word became flesh and moved into the neighbourhood.... and promised never to leave us or forsake us. 

A What in the Waiting

The big news of the week is that the Elizabeth Line (my local train) now has mobile signal all the way along its length even in the tunnels. The only place it drops out is as we go through the only stretch of the line (apart from the end) on my way home when we temporarily gasp for air at Custom House, where the train emerges from the ground. Strangely, Custom House was the only place where there was signal and I'd get people to text me so I knew they were coming and were only a few minutes away. The trains are deathly quiet right now as people bow their heads to their phones (including me) apart from those people who believe everyone else should hear their phone calls so to help their companions on the train only use loud speaker (don't get me started). 

no - this isn't the Elizabeth Line

I'm a great believer in using a mobile phone while you are waiting. A great distraction from the world around. I now don't need to take a book on the train (although that probably means that I won't read as much). I walked down the platform the other day and everyone but two or three people had heads bowed, thumbs scrolling and a look of bemused concentration on their face. As I walked down the platform I did wonder what made those two or three people choose not to go with the phone flow? They looked like the kind of people who had phones (it's rare not to have one). Following their example I stared vacantly into the distance as I waited eight minutes (can you believe it - eight minutes in London?) for a train. Without that distraction my mind had a chance to wander and notice things. It was quite nice really.

What do you do as you wait? 

I love the story of Zacchaeus - because he's short (I am a bit short...) and he's at the back of the crowd (I like to be at the back or side - means an easy escape), but mainly because it's a great story of how Jesus changes lives. 

If you read the story of Zacchaeus in Luke 19 you will see that there is quite a lot of interest going on. Zacchaeus is clearly waiting for something to happen - he's expecting to see Jesus, and he's expecting to find out something more about him. He wants to see Jesus and actively makes it possible from his short man position at the edge of the crowd. Today we might try and observe Jesus by looking through the mobile held up in front of us videoing the proceedings, but Zacchaeus didn't have that opportunity, so he climbed a tree instead. He saw him, and in doing that, Jesus noticed him. 

What are you doing as you wait? 

Advent waiting has an expectancy about it - there will be something to see at some point soon - something good. Zacchaeus makes sure he has the best view possible and it pays off with far much more happening than he very likely expected (I hope his house was tidy and he had food in). 

In our waiting, the story of Zacchaeus reminds us that actively waiting is a good idea. Zacchaeus could have waited at home and hoped for a knock on his door - but he didn't - he went to a place where he knew he would be able to see Jesus, ready for whatever happened next (maybe he had tidied his house and got food in.... just in case). 

Active waiting gives us a chance to be ready for whatever comes our way. It means we notice the things that are right in front of us - the opportunities that fall in our path, and we can choose to respond in whatever way feel is fit. If we wait passively with our eyes focussed on nothing but our next destination, we might miss whatever it is that wants to present itself to us, and that thing, it might be the answer or the open door we didn't know we had been waiting for, or, perhaps, we'd even given up on. 

"Here I am! I [Jesus] stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me."  Revelation 3:20

   

No more of this

'When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, "Lord, should we strike with our swords?" And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his right ear. 

But Jesus answered, "No more of this!" And he touched the man's ear and healed him.'

Luke 22:51

Four powerful words. No more of this. Jesus intervenes before an action turns into a fight. When Jesus is arrested, despite his innocence, he doesn't fight it, and he intervenes when his friends try and fight for him, interrupting a cycle of violence driven by the nature of those around him to pursue what they believe is right. 

When we see those we love get hurt - when we see those we love treated unjustly - the obvious response is to fight on their behalf. We fight in the way we know how. The disciples have just been told to take up their swords because something is coming, and now their use of the sword is stopped. 

None of it makes sense.  

There are many things in the world that might make us cry out 'no more of this!'. 'I can take no more'. 'Stop'. From the personal things when life appears to keep throwing stones - perhaps the first one didn't hurt, but the series of one thing after another is beginning to - through a spectrum of disappointment and frustration - to the big things - the atrocities we see on the news. 

So many times in the situations where we cry out 'no more of this' we feel helpless because there seems to be nothing we can do to change the way things are and how things are becoming. 

But Jesus' "no more of this" is a declaration of another way. He breaks the seemingly never ending cycle, not by being the most powerful and forceful in human ways, but by declaring a new and different way. His way heals the ear of the one who is arresting him for a crime he didn't commit. 

I don't have the answers in all the places and situations where we are crying out "no more of this", but I'm thankful that Jesus not only understands and feels the suffering that is endured, but that he points to a way that is different, a way that is healing and a way that declares restoration. A way where the ways he says no to, will one day be no more.  

I try to be a person of "no more of this", who calls out injustice when I see it and who sides with those who are broken, but I don't do it well. Perhaps one of the challenges of the advent pause is to revisit the declaration of "no more of this" and to seek out a more Jesus way to declare it.

A light began to glimmer in the darkness - the darkness could not put it out. 

The Word became flesh and moved into the neighbourhood.....and declared "No more of this". 

An Expectant Pause

During Advent I am reading backwards through Luke and so yesterday I started with the resurrection. It is a strange way to journey - starting from the glory of resurrection, ending with the beginning, but I am hoping that I might gain new insight into the story of Jesus' life, a story that I have read over and over, yet  continues to speak to me in new ways. Yesterday it was even stranger to read of resurrection and then preach of conception, and perhaps this strangeness in journey contributed to me eating pudding before main as I snuggled up on my sofa under the lights of the Christmas tree to a cheesy Christmas film (the proper way to end the first Sunday of Advent). 

The last four verses of Luke are full of promise. They are full of pause. They are an insight into a moment before the what next. They give a prequel of Luke's next book (Acts) and give a hint of what is to come, but they don't go further than an earth to heaven pause in the proceedings of the story of the people of God as Jesus is taken up into heaven. An expectant pause that is full of joy and praise because the promise of the next has become certain. It's a very advent end to the Gospel.

The season of advent for me is a reminder that waiting so often is inevitable. In a year where I have been learning to praise in the unknowing of a seemingly never-ending pause that has been longer than I expected it to be, advent waiting feels a bit different this year. 

The season of advent has always been for me a reminder that in the inevitable waiting there is expectation -  a glimmer, a thrill of hope, however weary the world feels right now. And that glimmer, it is there at the end of Luke, and I wonder if for the disciples, this made the praise in the waiting come more naturally. 

Yesterday there was a moment at the end of the service when I saw the face of a woman light up with twinkly joy. I had given the members of the congregation a tiny little ball and had instructed them to wait before they discovered what that ball was. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the woman who was so excited to find out what it was she removed the piece of white plastic from inside it before I told her to, and as the ball started to light up and twinkle, the joy spread along the row as the unexpected was discovered. On talking to the woman afterwards I found out that that little tiny twinkly light was a sign for her of what was to come after a difficult season. Her delight in God's goodness was infectious, and helped me to remember that even in the longest of pauses, there is always a hope ahead and a cause to praise.

In the little tiny twinkling lights of advent, in the frustration of the pause that is far longer than you anticipated, may you discover hope where you never expected hope to be.   

 "I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." Luke 24:48

Dropping the Mentos

I remember when I first saw someone drop mentos into a bottle of coke. It was in a field, far enough away from the Boys Brigade bell tents to not cause a sticky mess on the (despite having tent inspection a few hours ago) chaos inside. As the mentos dropped, the bubbles got rather enthusiastic and the bottle jumped, bounced, exploded as those watching sprang back and watched. 

What was really happening was that as the mentos dropped, the bubbles weren't just dancing from the sidelines, they had attached themselves to the tiny pits all over the surface of the mint. The bubbles want to attach themselves, but there is a fight between the mint (which is heavy and wants to sink to the bottom) and the bubbles, and as the bubbles push upwards, the mentos sink, pushing the soda up and out of the bottle with a blast (or something like that).

Our insides can feel a bit like a bottle of fizzy. We have so much going on - so many active bubbles dancing around - the whirlwind of emotions trying to balance the complexities of life. It's OK when we're stood still, but movement can leave us precarious for a while. If someone unscrewed our lid, we don't know what we would do. 

And then someone drops in the mentos. 

The mentos come in different forms - the facebook post that clicks our button, the email at the wrong moment, the voice from the past back to haunt us, triggering the memories that brought us to now. The one thing too many in a world that feels unstable right now, the news that hits us where it hurts. 

And then we explode - we become the person we said we would never be and as we see the effect we can't stop the ferocious fountain, and the sticky mess reaches the already chaotic place we find ourselves in. 

There is too much right now for many of us that could be our own mentos and we need to be careful about the positions we find ourselves in. There are far too many places we could be the mentos for others and we need to be gracious in our thinking about where we let go. 

I've been thinking a lot about Philippians 4 lately as I've been trying to avoid being part of the mentos drop. It's hard to reflect on the goodness sometimes when something has made you angry, and I got really quite annoyed with a friend who told me to do this recently, because I wanted to rant..... but when the ranting is over, the fizziness subsides, and in the stillness, the reflection is easier - and reflecting on the goodness becomes more of who we are. It doesn't mean the problem necessarily goes away, but it helps us to hold it differently. 

"I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious - the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realised. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies"           Philippians 4:8-9 (MSG) 

May the fizziness inside you find a place where the bubbles can rest. 

On Walking Alone part 3.....

At a conference for Women Leaders, I was chairing a question panel and a question I asked got thrown back in my direction like a boomerang, and as often happens when unexpected things are thrown at me, I bumbled my way through the answer with a bit of waffle. The question was something about what things need to be put in place to thrive as a single woman in ministry. I've chewed a bit on this question ever since. As I've mentioned before in this blog, I am a very settled single. My singleness is often more of a problem (or status of intrigue) for others than it is for me. As I have changed jobs, the question of marital status and family life has been raised again, and the big question of where I find support has been brought up in many a conversation. 

Whilst my answer to the question at the conference ended up with 'I model myself on Miranda really', I think that there is a better answer than that, and during the last week as I have spent a lot of time with family and led the wedding celebration service for my nephew - the first of the generation below me to get married - I've been reflecting on this. 

Everybody is different. I'm an introvert for a start, which means I am very happy with my own company, and that helps. I don't need to be with other people to fill my sink up - although sometimes I do. But, there are things I have intentionally put in place (and other things I have just been blessed with), which might help answer the question. 

I have the amazing blessing of a good and close family who understand ministry. I know that if I need to talk to someone who gets it and gets me, then I have that support on the end of the phone. My family lives too far away for my liking, and it is no secret that before I settled in South London I asked God to move me to the Midlands so I could be closer to more of my family. He chose not to, but because of that, I've made sure that I put some flexibility into my diary so that I can see my family if I need to..... and I have learnt that I shouldn't feel guilty about that. I am at my best when I make time to spend time with those who know me best and love me unconditionally. 

I have a network of friends who I've built up over the years who don't need me to be their minister - those who give as much and more than they get. I have friends who check up on me, who remember the significant moments in my diary and who pray for me regularly. Most of them live far away, but we manage - and I'm a good base for going into London so, although I don't always get chance to travel, my house is a convenient hotel for guests who are happy to mow my grass (although it's not compulsory). 

Since being in ministry I have chosen to opt in to local Baptist family support networks. Nobody gets Baptist ministry like a Baptist minister. I have been blessed with honest, gracious and wise cluster groups and local colleagues who have walked with me through some of the most difficult bits of the journey and celebrated with me through the good stuff. Never underestimate the support of those around. 

And finally, I make sure I have distractions from ministry, even if it means relying on myself to provide the fun! I walk to think things through, stomping out my frustrations, finding stillness and talking it out with God. I have learnt the art of eating alone without feeling odd and I love a spontaneous solo theatre or concert trip. You don't need other people to be free to do these things. I have joined a choir, because I know a good sing always makes the world better. The choir demands nothing of me, but gives me community. And if in doubt, there are always boxsets. 

I can't say that it is always easy, and I get it wrong sometimes, and days off can be just me being a terrible grump (stay away!). I need two hours to wind down after an evening meeting, and that can be a lonely place. But, I'm aware that we all struggle and I don't have to have everything sorted. 

One thing that I was taught at college was that if something drains your sink, always put something in place to fill it up - so I always try to follow up a difficult visit or conversation with something good - whether that's meeting someone who always makes me feel better, or going to that place where God feels close and the beauty of creation sings good things into my soul. I try not to stay empty for too long and I've learned to recognise the signs. I'm a chronic overthinker and regularly have anxiety nightmares, and I'm trying out new things to help with that. Not always successful, but I'm trying. My most recent mantra is "you've said it, you can't change it now, leave it behind". When you are on your own, you learn to self soothe instead of having another person do that for you, and that does take a lot of effort sometimes, but it's worth it. 

At the end and the beginning of all of this, I come back to the fact that God called me as me - and that includes my relationship status. I don't need to have what anyone else has or be who anyone else thinks I should be, because God knew who I was and who I will become before he called me by name. I have confidence in God, and that is what matters. If I can keep coming back to that, I think - I know - all will be well. And that, when everything else has fallen away, is what keeps me being all that he has made me to be. For that, I am eternally thankful.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" Isaiah 41:10

 

Fifty….

Fifty years of ordained ministry. Quite an achievement. I don't know what the stats are on how long the average time in ministry is, but I do know fifty years is a long time. 

My Dad Brian, my favourite Dad. I have never known him not to be a minister. He was my local church minister for the first fifteen years of my life, and although he then went on to minister in another context, he has continued to be a role model in my life, particularly as I have taken my own journey into ordained ministry which has, in some ways (although I am reluctant to admit it) gone in a similar direction, but in others, diverted as I have explored my own calling, not exactly following his footsteps, but with something in the genes that clearly shines through us both - both inspired by our pioneering Baptist ancestors, which, we have discovered more recently originated from our family of bootmakers from Hampshire and non-conformists from North Wales. 

My Dad, from whom I have inherited my stubbornness and tenacity, my sense of humour and my left wing tendencies. He stands on his head to make a point (I still don’t know what that point is) and makes giant sheep and angels out of cardboard boxes. My Dad, who I am both similar and very different to (don't expect us to have the same views on or ways of approaching situations). Today marks 50 years of ordained ministry. 

Dad was called to ministry as a teenager from Durham City Baptist Church. This was the church where he grew up as it grew up. His parents - my Grandparents were part of the group of 'convinced Baptists' who began to meet together in Durham in 1949, and, two years later, in the year my Dad was born, the church was formally constituted - the family stories say that he was the first baby to be dedicated in the newly planted church. 

I was born when my Dad was ministering in his first churches in Derbyshire. I've been told that he was the 'cool, young Baptist minister with a young family and a guitar'. I grew up with him leading the ministry at Mansfield Road Baptist Church in Nottingham - the church on the corner - a huge building with many different rooms and activities to fill them. It was a privilege to have my Dad as my minister. In the school holidays and days off I'd go down to church with my Mum and sit in what I remember being a cavernous office - the ultimate reward being getting to play with the ball of elastic bands on his desk and roll out the carpets for toddler group. 

Children of the manse would make for an interesting and challenging research project. You hear stories of rebellion and turning away from God, and for my peers in ministry with children, I know it is a continuous challenge. When Dad retired my brothers, sister and I shared some of our stories of what life was like growing up and how we all ended up Ok really - we were all baptised by our Dad and all continue to have faith which we express in different ways in different contexts. 

Growing up, the expectation was that we would be involved in church - we knew that Dad's job was more than just a job, that it was life, and as children we were part of that. We attended evening services with our reading books from a very young age, and I'm sure fell asleep on the pews quite regularly. We were deeply involved in church life, but we also were protected from the realities of ministry by my parents, which I am very grateful for. They didn't talk about the challenges and the pain that inevitably are part of the journey in front of us, but made sure we had the opportunities we needed to grow in faith. We don't know what it took to get a good Sunday School and Youth Group into our lives - but that's what happened and that's where my faith grew and I am grateful for that. 

As I grew up and learned to listen better, I was blessed with my Dad as my minister to hear some really good preaching. A few years ago I went through the family archives chest of surprises and I found a newspaper article about how in 1994 Dad appeared in the "Good Preachers Guide" - nominated by a church member I think. The article talks about how he had come a long way from his first preach at 16, when he preached for 45 minutes a sermon that was full of awful jokes - he was pulled aside afterwards by a member of his congregation and told to never to preach that way again otherwise they wouldn't commend him for ministry (thankfully he calmed down the bad jokes and they did). As my Dad left local church ministry to become Area Superintendent in the West Midlands area and after I left home, I realised how much I'd been spoiled, and it is a pleasure on trips to Derbyshire now (where life has gone full circle for my Mum and Dad who have ended up where they started) to hear my Dad preach. If you've ever heard/seen both him and me preach you might notice that I've inherited my preacher hand moves from him.... 

When I finally felt ready to follow my own call to ministry, I knew that my Dad would be there at my side. He has been one of my best companions on the road. It's so handy to have someone who knows both me and the journey of ministry so well to talk to if I need to (not that that has happened that often - I've always believed that I've been called to ministry as me and not to emulate his ways, and so have been determined to be independent from my Dad in ministry, stubbornly perhaps, but then that is probably a family trait). 

As a role model in ministry, I am so pleased I have Dad. He and my Mum taught me that God often calls you where you don't expect (or perhaps even want?) to go, and so in settlement, although the idea of me going to South London was confusing to us all, I went in the knowledge that God's call is more than my own ideas and ambitions - and as I look back I see that both in their life and mine. He's taught me that whilst ministry inevitably takes over your life, there is still place for fun and for family and things that bring joy. He's taught me that holidays are a place to switch off, and to withdraw from situations for a while when it's all too much - time can really be a healer. As I bring to him the stories of all the oddities of ministry and people, he regularly comes back with similarly surprising stories that remind me that it's not just me and I will find a way through. His pastoral voice continues to bring peace when the journey is tough and one of the best things in life is when he says he is proud of me. 

One of my favourite pictures of my Dad is when he is explaining what ordination means at my own ordination. I was ordained as he prepared to retire from his final full time ministry post in Leeds - a passing on of the baton perhaps. He has his hands round my youngest nephew's neck (gently!) and he is reminding the congregation that when a minister is called to serve that it is not a calling for the church to strangle or smother or put their minister in a box. A minister is called by God as the person that God has made them to be, and is given the responsibility to lead the church forwards, to discern God's vision with the church and follow God's way. My Dad has not only encouraged that, but has also demonstrated that, by always putting God first and being faithful to his calling, even in the most difficult of situations where he could have just walked away. I am inspired by this, and it has helped me to not only survive, but thrive and continue to minister both when things have been rocky and when things have been a joy. 

As role models go, I think I've been spoilt. 

So to my favourite Dad, who I hope doesn't mind me drawing attention to this milestone - congratulations on 50 faithful years. Thank you. 

God is good, all the time - may he bless you abundantly with his wisdom and goodness and may that flow out of you to bless the ones that you continue to serve. 

Don't forget to Breathe.....

"You just chase your dreams, you don't even take the time to sleep. 
But don't forget to breathe. Don't forget to breathe.
And when you're down and out, just hold on, please.
Or just close your eyes and count to three
But don't forget to breathe. Don't forget to breathe"      Stormzy

There's a lot to make us angry at the moment. There's a lot to make us shout. There are polarised views and there's injustice and disappointment. 

There's a lot to make us sad at the moment. There's a lot to to make us weep. There's bad news and there are broken lives and there's so much devastation. 

There's a lot to make us anxious at the moment. There's a lot to make us worry. There's uncertainty and there are stumbling blocks and potholes. 

In the midst of it all, don't forget to breathe. 

At the end of a week with all of the stuff in it the other week, I saw an advert for Pro Plus on the tram, promising to make me feel more awake if I took Caffeine tablets. The solution was not to pause, but to make it possible to keep going. The makers of Pro Plus know that's how the world works.....

But I'd rather not, because I know that to put the things in place to make me go faster only means that the shouting, the weeping, the worrying - it'll become harder to contain, and it will overwhelm. 

I'd rather find the time to rest, the time to sleep and the time to be still and know that God is God. God puts rest at the centre of the ten commandments. 

He's big enough to hold the landscape. He's strong enough to hold the broken. He holds the stable place amongst the uncertainty. He brings peace even in the places where peace seems impossible. 

In the midst of it all, don't forget to breathe. 

You'd love to change everything now, you lose sleep because you can't see how.

But don't forget to breathe. Don't forget to breathe. 

And when you don't know where to turn, just be still, please.

Just close your eyes and rest in God.

Don't forget to breathe. Don't forget to breathe. 

Breathe in peace 

Breathe in joy

Breathe in love 

Breathe in strength

"Like a shepherd, he will care for his flock, gathering the lambs in his arms, hugging them as he carries them, leading the nursing ewes to good pasture" Isaiah 40:11 (MSG)

A musical journey….

I love music. Good music makes my heart sing. I wake up in the morning and I listen to music. Music accompanies my day. When I’m feeling stressed a loud piano play helps me to find my way. I love to sit and listen and watch live music being created. One of my most precious moments was when I had my sound portrait painted and as the musicians played it felt like everything was right with the world. Music speaks of the beauty and glory of God and inspires my faith. A song caught in the air reminds me of the time I first heard it and the story of the journey I was on at the time. 

I collect songs - the songs that have become my theme songs in certain times and places - the songs that continue to speak to me and remind me of my calling and my identity in Christ. They are the songs that have got me through, that for a while I have listened to every morning to remind me of who I am and where I’m going. They are the songs that were in the right place at the right time. 

As I prepare to leave New Addington I’ve been reflecting on some of the songs that have documented my journey through the last few years of surprising and unexpected events. A bit like the desert island discs of my journey. They are on a playlist here . I won’t write about them all but here are four….

You Say - Lauren Daigle

My brilliant friend introduced me to this song at a time I was doubting my own abilities as I was exploring moving on before I even knew New Addington existed. It sat on repeat as I travelled further south than I ever expected and on my first drive to church after I had moved to New Addington it came on the radio (a surprise as I didn’t know it had been released). It speaks about how when the voices around you are saying you are not enough, when you’re suffering from imposter syndrome, that God says you are enough. Sometimes you need to hear that. I did for a time…. It reminds me of my friend, who has been a constant companion on the journey into and through ministry and, whenever I see her, her presence just makes everything seem right. 

For a time like this - Bethel Worship Arts (feat Cidney Dobrodt)

I stumbled across this song when preparing for worship as we sank deeper into lockdown and it became my theme song for a while. I listened to it every morning and whilst I was delivering food and letters to people. It spoke to me as the frustrations of the pandemic affected everyone and everything and caused brokenness and conflict. This song kept me going through the most difficult of days.

It came on in the car the other day and revisiting it reminded me of that time, the words “you were made for a time like this” singing to me in a new way as I have come to the realisation in the last few months that my calling to NABC has been for a season, that I was called here to lead the church through covid but not in what comes next. I was called for a winter season and as new life begins to appear, I hope to hear good stories of the things that emerge. 

I think it’s going to rain today - Nina Simone

This is a beautiful song and I love to sing and play it. I first sunk into its beauty when I heard a version of it on Gilmore Girls (my go to series if life needs soothing). It is played at a particularly sad part of the story when Lorelei and Rory stop talking as Rory moves into her Grandparents pool house. 

I listened to this a lot when I got back from sabbatical and picked up work again. The weight of the work we do as a church was getting heavier and the world seemed more broken and it was affecting each one of us, yet in amongst all of that there was goodness and hope and compassion and deep deep love. It’s a song that makes me feel sad but it also soothes me. It speaks about how when things are shattered, when people are shattered, that there is something about the human heart that shines despite. That’s the light and hope of Jesus shining through. Where I see the light shine within and be reflected in the shattered and distorted view in unexpected ways, there I see the goodness of God. 

Firm Foundation - Cody Carnes

This is my current earworm. I’ve been listening to it over and over since I first sang it at ministers conference a couple of weeks ago. It tells the story of how God has kept me upright, my life motto of finding joy despite, of finding peace that nobody understands. It even tells the story of the rain and the wind that have not just been a metaphor as we have suffered from far too many leaks and cracks in the manse (don't worry it has all been or is being sorted). It reminds me that when I’ve got my feet in the right place, that thriving, whatever is going on around, is possible. A song for now, I think, then we’ll see what comes next. 

And the other songs? They tell the stories of how God continues to be good and faithful, of the people around me who have helped me stand when my legs have been wobbly and of the hope that I have that continues to remind me that the way things are are not the way they have to be...... 

The Father's Song - I played this to the online congregation in our first lockdown service; The Blessing, that blessed so many of us during the first weeks of lockdown; In this heart that expressed so much of what I was feeling during the November lockdown in 2020; Hold On, as I held on with the help of my choir we sang this in a socially distanced group of six in the park in the dark in one of those surreal moments only the pandemic can explain; I'll fight, reminding me I can be so much with the support of others; Don't forget to Breathe, a constant reminder; Beautiful Things, that I wrote about here; Oh Holy Night, the theme of a weary Christmas at the end of a bonkers couple of months; The Goodness of God, because he is, and when it comes down to it, He is the firm ground on which I stand. 

What’s your go to song of the moment? 

The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
    but will rejoice over you with singing. 

Zephaniah 3:17

Fault in the Shadows

 "Did living under the shadow of his high achieving wife lead to unthinkable tragedy? Details emerge of the tensions behind the picture perfect lives of the Epsom College head and her husband who "killed her and their daughter before turning the gun on herself" 

This is a Daily Mail headline this morning (11th Feb 2023). The reporter is commenting on the murder of Emma Pattison, head of Epsom College and daughter, Lettie, committed by her husband, George Pattison, who then went on to kill himself. 

This story has made the headlines, unlike other stories of women who have been murdered by their partners, because of the position that Emma Pattison held at Epsom College. She was a woman with a high profile. A woman who has achieved a lot in life. A woman who was a leader and an example to others. A woman who was trying to be all she could be. 

And because of that, journalists have decided that it is time to discuss whether she brought it upon herself because of her ambition and status. I have (reluctantly) read the article and other accompanying articles, and it gets worse than the headlines. I really hate the Daily Mail, but I know so many who read it.... so sometimes, like today, I dig in a little - just to see (a little disclaimer there). 

So... how do we respond to this? What do we do with this? 

At the moment I'm fuming, to be honest, in the knowledge that I know people who are full of love who choose to read this paper with all of this stuff. I am fuming knowing that this isn't just what came to the front of this one journalist's mind, but is a rhetoric that has run throughout history and is something that runs in all spheres of life, including the church. It is a rhetoric based on power struggles nobody asked to have and it is a symptom of our fallen world, where in Genesis 3 we see the created partnership of human beings distorted, as the first people turned away from God, and power and control came into play. 

But what can we do with all of this? 

We can get angry, yes. We can call it out.... but there are other things we can do too, and one thing we can do is keep reminding women that it is not their fault....

So here's the reminder.... 

It's not about what you wear, or what you have done or what you have said. It is not about what you do for a job or your level of knowledge on the things you have studied. It is not about whether you returned that call when you couldn't or weren't answering the text when you were talking with your friends. It is not about whether you have money or are relying on the provision of others. It is not about whether you are struggling with health or caring for someone who can't. It is not about whether you remembered to pick up shopping today or had the tea cooked at exactly the right time. It is not because you walk home alone or like to go running. It is not because you disagreed or had an opinion. It is not because you pick your teeth or play your music too loud. 

It is not your fault. It's not you. 

Our God is a God of life and not death, of flourishing and not diminishing.

Our God created human beings with potential and gifting, and we glorify him when we work to thrive in the fields he has called us to.

Don't let the blame game, the power games, hold you back from being all you can be. 

It is not your fault. It's not you.