Pulling up the rug.....

Some of you might not relate to this because you are of the category of 'super-cleaner' - you always move your furniture and your rugs when you clean so the concept of what I am going to say will be beyond your comprehension, but bear with me..... 

For those of you who do not do that, think about that day you decide to do a more thorough clean than normal and you decide that your rug in your living room needs a big clean and the floor underneath as a result. You remove your coffee table from the rug - it's heavy because of all the stuff inside, so you remove all of the stuff too and pile it up somewhere to be replaced later. As you do so you remember the time you took that photo, the memory of the day you started the jigsaw that sits on top, but never quite got finished. You pick up that book you meant to read and put it on top of the one you've read 500 times. You move the pile of letters that needs filing to another 'to be filed' pile and you remove all the little bits and pieces that are handy to have lying about.....

And finally you get to the rug. You roll it up and discover things you'd put there to deal with later. The letter from an ex that you couldn't bear to throw away at the time. The card that tried to fix a friendship but you couldn't bear to read at the time. Pages from your old journal where you write in detail of the impossibly difficult time you had find their way into your hands and you remember why you hid them because to deal with them at any time would be painful and difficult. In amongst the mess you find an article that you'd kept because it had inspired you to dream big dreams in the past, but you weren't ready to dream quite so big just then. There was hope, but the hope got hidden under the everyday activities of life. 

And of course there is dirt, and there is dust, and all those things that got brushed under the rug you didn't know were there, the broken bits of that mug you dropped on the floor that didn't get hoovered up and there is a lot of cleaning to do..... 

You sit and you look at the mess, the piles around you, and you have a cup of coffee and you sit and you wait, but it doesn't move. If the mess is going to cleaned up, if the ghosts of the past are to be dealt with, if the dreams we once had are to be realised, someone has to do something about it.... 

The Covid-19 pandemic and the subsequent lockdown seems to have created an atmosphere that has shined a spotlight on what is under that rug. In our churches, in our organisations, in our government, in our lives, the things that have been brushed under the rug to be dealt with later or simply ignored because they are too difficult to deal with are being revealed, entangled in the mess we didn't even know was there. As all the activities and busyness of everyday life has been stripped away, what has been hidden beneath the rug has gained a life of its own and is really raising it's head. 

It's led us into all sorts of difference spaces - the blame headspace (it's not my mess), the 'someone else will clear up after me' headspace (I mean it's their job isn't it?), the apathetic headspace (it's not my job definitely and I'm just going to carry on the way I've always carried on), the 'let's unroll that rug again and cover it all up' headspace, the 'let someone else do it and we'll kick them while they do it' headspace ...... but none of that deals with the mess. 

Perhaps this is the time to face up to the mess, the broken bits, the past and do some mending, do some clearing out, do some dealing with, do some healing and when we've done all that, begin to dream those dreams again...... lay down the rug on a clean floor, place on top a new coffee table and step tentatively into a more pleasant, less busy, better future. It might be painful, it might tear us apart, we might ache because the sticky mess in the middle of the floor that we can't identify involves more elbow grease than we ever knew we had..... but something needs to be done, because as the brokenness is highlighted, the mending must begin, the mess under the rug we've been ignoring must be faced before it becomes even greater. 

Moving forward doesn't happen without a new start, forgetting the past doesn't happen if we are going to rediscover it again, put off the old, put on the new..... for that is the way in which we are taught. 

"....take on an entirely new way of life - a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you" - Ephesians 4:24ish (the Message)


image from here https://images.app.goo.gl/rAF55Zcregi3cqCW9

Calling in a world turned upside down

What do you do when your calling has been turned upside down, twisted and turned, snapped in places and left flailing in a weird liminal space that makes no sense to anyone, and you are trying to work out what it means to be called in a time that doesn't make sense in itself.....?

Someone said to me at the beginning of this pandemic when we had to shut down virtually all our activities that it must be hard for me as a community minister, but at the time I didn't really get it. 

But now I do. As I had begun to find a new identity in a new place it hasn't just been slowly unravelled, the very foundation of who I am has been ripped from beneath my feet. 

And I think I'm not the only one feeling that way. 

Why am I writing this blog? Because I want to acknowledge the pain. Because I want to recognise that this hurts. Because as we rediscover what life is, it's not some utopian dream, it's more like a rocky mountain climb where the top is far beyond anything we can see. As the present seems removed from anything we'd like it to be, where the things that level us and keep us upright are like greasy poles to cling with all our strength to, we've all got to recognise that we are not invincible, in fact we are right now the opposite of that, whatever that is. 

In YouTube algorithm style, the hymn 'Just as I am' came up on my YouTube given playlist. That hymn is so beautiful. The hymn writer Charlotte Elliot wrote it after a charity bazaar her brother held to raise money to provide education for the daughters of clergymen supported by the church. The night before the bazaar Elliot was kept awake overthinking about her own uselessness - she then went on to question the whole of her spiritual life and wondered whether she'd got it all wrong. The next day she remembered that to God, she was more than that and that his grace, his power, his promise overcame all of that*. 

When it comes down to it, however we are feeling, however true we believe we are being to the calling God has put on our lives - it is just as we are that God calls us to him, and it is just as we are we follow that call. 

And he will help us answer that call in all circumstances. Even now. 

Especially now. 

Just as I am - though toss'd about
With many a conflict, many a doubt
Fightings and fears within, without
- O Lamb of God, I come! 

*from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Just_As_I_Am_(hymn)

Picture from https://images.app.goo.gl/QUreGkT7UupUrdM78

Learning to ride again

This morning I read one of those articles that someone regularly puts up in ministers groups that speculates on what life will look like once what the new normal is is revealed. 

I realised after I read it that I don't want to read articles like this anymore. I don't want to read your musings which are influenced by your own dreams of church about what church will look like post lockdown. I can't do it any more. 

If there is anything this time is teaching us is that we need to wait and see. I remember just before we had to close our buildings and the feeling in those groups was that we had to make contingency plans and I did that but then two days later I ripped it all up and started again because all the social distancing ideas we put in place were not possible anymore. 

If this time teaches us anything it teaches us that we can't be in control of this. We can't predict how things are going to go. We can have ideas, we can have dreams, we can imagine that church will become everything we want it to be, but that doesn't mean that will happen. 

Our future practise will arise from our experience. I believe our call right now is to be reflective practitioners, to listen and to learn from what is happening and adjust our direction to the hand that is tugging us down the path we might not have quite noticed before. 

I was sat in a webinar (hate that word) on listening to God in lockdown on Thursday night after the end of a long day when the things that needed to be sorted in the long day had not been sorted and I was feeling a bit disheartened. One of the contributors (forgive me for forgetting who) used the image of learning to ride a bike. At the moment it's like our stabilisers have been taken off and we are very much trying to find them again to find balance.... but actually maybe our call is not to find the stabilisers, maybe actually what is happening right now is that God is helping us to learn to ride in the way he is calling us without them. 

Those stabilisers (the weekly gathering that grounds us, the routine that keeps us in rhythm) have been taken off completely, not just lost, and God has let go of the saddle as we learn to peddle in the way he has taught us to on a journey that has an unknown destination as yet. Perhaps right now, we just need to learn to ride. When you first learn to ride a bike, it's not to go anywhere, it's to learn to adjust your balance as necessary, peddle at the right pace without getting dizzy, to turn the handle bars when the signs tell you to, to press the brakes at the right pressure and to put your feet down to stop when that's what you need to do and not just fall off because the stablisers aren't there to prevent that falling anymore. 

We learn to ride by getting on that bike, reflecting on our experience when we end up with a grazed knee, and doing it a bit differently next time so it doesn't hurt in the same way anymore. 

Our destination is not in our hands right now, and while we can dream and hope, we can't fix our eyes on anything but the direction that will be revealed over time. Our future holds many possibilities, but now is not time to predict the one route that future will take us down. Now is the time to let that route arise from the steps to which we are called. Now is the time to let that route arise from within the community we serve. Now is the time for that route to be revealed by the one who knows when we will be ready to see the destination.

One of the meditations of the day in the Northumbria Community Daily Prayer talks about how "if you must lead, let it be like the wind and all its unshackled direction". That strikes me every time I read it, and is particularly appropriate right now. 

Now is the time to listen to the wind, because the wind, it blows wherever it wishes. 


Photo from https://www.flickr.com/photos/danbax/8568310235/

Would you rather be church?

Would you rather have one church meeting or lots of little pocket size "congregations" all meeting in different places? 

There is a meme going round that I think that people are finding helpful in dealing with the current situation which shows a conversation between the devil and God with the devil claiming he has shut down all churches and God saying, no I've just opened up one in every home. It's quite a comforting image in this time, as it reminds us that God is bigger than this and that the church cannot be killed by a virus. 

However, there is something about it that grates on me. It gives an individualistic image of what church is that perhaps we should try and avoid as much as we should try and avoid the image of the church as the building. 

The word translated church in the New Testament is ekklesia - meaning 'the congregation' or 'the gathering' (however big that gathering is). It is definitely not an individual in their own home singing worship songs alone. It is not taking time out to watch videos of sermons and prayers on a Sunday when you feel like it and can fit it in, but it's about the gathering of believers, Christ centred community.

I'd love to be able to live stream, because there is something about being together at that time that would be really helpful to be being church, but I can't, so I am encouraging people to all follow through the service and join for coffee afterwards to keep some sense of gathering, and in a way, it gives us chance to make that gathering and feel something of our call to Christ Centred Community. 

The likelihood is that our scattering as church is going to go on longer than we might hope, and that even when we are allowed to meet, the restrictions put upon us will make it difficult for us to meet in the ways we want to - because community - gathering - ekklesia - is about togetherness centred on Jesus and our ways of expressing togetherness - physical interaction, eating together, singing together, simply sitting side by side - they don't fit in well with social distancing. The alternatives, for most people, are lacking, but alternatives we are trying to find. 

They're when we are able to share stories and birthdays and worship songs and inspirational quotes on whatsapp. They're when we're able to gather on zoom for coffee or prayer. They're when a small number of us meet to distribute food during the week and we do so motivated by Christ and pray together and sing happy birthday on video. They're in the moments shared over the phone and the meetings on the doorsteps. They're in the joy of seeing someone you know from across the car park. 

Our current situation doesn't mean that each household becomes a church (that doesn't fit nicely theologically and it has the danger of encouraging individualistic faith that feels like it doesn't need to engage with anything bigger). From the beginning of Christianity the church has met together to share food, break bread and worship God together. If we are only meant to do that as individuals from our own homes, where does 2000 years of history sit?

We are the church, and we are the church wherever we are, standing together in worship in a building or scattered in the community, but it doesn't mean there are many pocket size individual churches. And to be honest, I'd rather be church - Christ-centred community called together in worship, service and prayer, whatever that looks like right now. 

"So let's do it - full of belief, confident that we're presentable inside and out. Let's keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let's see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshipping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching" - Hebrews 10:22-25 The Message

Feathers and Wings

The sun is not out, the rain is pouring down and as I sit staring outside my study window at the long grass I'm claiming to grow into a wildflower meadow I see stuck to a long blade of grass a feather. In the wind it holds on tight and doesn't want to let go. 

I open my front door, realise that the torrential rain means I shouldn't go out in my slippers, put on my trainers and go to rescue the feather clinging for dear life to the the blade of grass as the wind blows strongly. 

The feather is now on my desk. It dried out quickly, it's found its shape again, but it is clearly feeling the effects of that moment in the storm. It looks a bit bedraggled and will never be the same again, not least because its fallen from the wings of the bird it belonged to. 

Over the last 18 months or so I have found the image of being under God's wings really helpful. It comes from Psalm 91:4 which says:

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart"

At the moment I desperately want refuge. I desperately want to find calm in the storm, I love the moments when I'm snuggled up in my duvet with nine pillows (yes nine) in my smallest bedroom because it feels cosiest and a bit like a protective nest. 

But every day I have to get up and carry on doing the work I am called to. And each time I do that I worry what I might encounter and I don't want to go to the shop and I feel grief for the state that our country, that the world is in as we face what is before us. The protective wings don't feel like they are there any more. At a time where we are encouraged to hide, hiding is not possible, and to be honest, there are times I'm a bit scared. 

While I know that God is with me, I have to emerge from under the protection of his wings as I do the work I need to do, as I encounter difficult situations and have to go out into the community to make sure that other people can find shelter under his wings, as I guide people to where the shelter lies and look after those that despite being under the shelter are so battered and bruised they need gentle tender care.

My encounters with God, right now, are not about the safety of being under His wings, but are about the feathers that are promised - "he will cover you with feathers". And as I walk onwards, away from the safety of the hidden places, it is the feathers that remind me that there is a safe place and I will return to it, if not today, another day, if not another day, one further away - but those wings are still there. 

As I watch the feather clinging onto the grass in the rain and the wind, it becomes a sign of hope - that there are wings, the safe place is there. As I see the sunshine break through the rainclouds, goldfinches on my drive, the clematis in the back garden come into bloom, the smile that greets me as I knock on a door and the signs of thriving despite - those things, they bring promise that again those wings will be where I find rest once more.

But for now, I simply need to recognise that God is here, he is working, he is living, he is active. He is in the actions and the sacrifice of those who each day emerge from the safety of their doorways, scatter, do those things they have to do, ready to return to do it all over again. He is in the sunshine and the rain, the voices on the end of the line, the loud singing of the London birds, the weekly zoom meetings that bring life (some of them actually do) and in the feathers that dance in the wind and the rain that remind us that those wings, they are there. 

"Do not destroy" - Reflecting on Psalm 57

It's raining today, and rain changes the mood even on the best of days, but when you are stuck in on week 6 of lockdown there is something about the rain that reflects the mood of the nation, of the world. It feels like this week the grief is really setting in, and the news doesn't seem to get any better. There are glimmers of hope. There are moments of joy, but they are interspersed with moments of sadness and bad news. We are getting to the point now where most people know someone personally who has been kicked in the guts as they have lost someone they love or life as they know it has been completely torn apart or the brokenness has just got too much. 

The rain today is crying for a very broken and sick world. 

In the Bible there are many stories of people who are at this place - where they have suffered great loss, who have had to abandon everything they have always valued, or they have had everything ripped apart and the poetry books in particular are full of the agonising sadness and frustration at life. One verse shared on facebook in the last couple of days was from Psalm 57. Psalm 57 is to the tune of "Do not destroy" which seems kind of appropriate for this time and it was written for the time when David had to run from Saul who wanted to kill him and hide in a cave. When we are threatened from the outside, sometimes all we can do is hide, and today, we're hiding the best we can. It doesn't mean that the threat is going to go away, and there are still people out there who are facing it head on, hiding when their role allows, fighting it for us, all the time, just like, I guess people were fighting David's corner, but it means we will stay safe for a while. And as we hide, we have time to reflect and deal with all the emotions inside. We have time to shout and cry and laugh inappropriately. And that is what this Psalm is all about - a Psalm from a cave. Do not destroy. 

Here is the coronavirus version. 

Have mercy on us, oh God, have mercy on us
for in you we take refuge, as we shut our doors and look out of the window at the crying skies. 
We will take refuge under the shadow of your wings, we will sit in loneliness and grief and mourning, in the safety of your arms until this disaster has passed. 

We cry out to you oh God, we know you will save us, you give us hope. 
You send songs from heaven, moments of joy, moments of peace and they lift us from the pit,
You rebuke the unseen enemy that threatens to destroy
And you send forth your love and your faithfulness, your promises stand firm. 

We are in the midst of an uncertain threat. We are forced to dwell in a land that poses insurmountable risks. A virus that sits on door handles and shopping, which knows no boundaries, but hits the hurting hardest. 

Be lifted up, O God, high above all this, may your glory be seen across this earth. 

Every time we cross our doorstep, we recognise the risk we face ahead. 
We step cautiously in our fear. We wear makeshift masks and wash our sore hands again. 
There may be a threat beyond these walls, but it will not defeat us, it will be destroyed. 

Our hearts, O God, are focussed on you. We will fill our time with good things. We will listen to songs we love and make music ourselves. 
Awake us to new things - new notes - new melodies - awaken our voices and teach us your song, your song will awaken the dawn. 

We will praise you, Lord, despite being apart, we will praise you alongside all nations, so far scattered.

We will sing your songs above the chaos around - for your great love reaches as far as we can see. Your faithfulness reaches beyond where we can imagine. 

Be lifted up, O God, be lifted up. Let us see your light in the darkness, your glory within the days ahead.

Back to Basics

Everything is stripped back right now. Everything. We’re in survival mode in every aspect of life. Survival mode means that we act in ways that at other times would seem simply wrong and overreactive. Added to that we’re in a constant state of being told off. When you’re like me you feel guilty for doing all the things you’ve been told off for even if you haven’t done those things. Like walking through airport security and expecting them to find drugs. Like the constant overthinking when you’ve said what probably isn’t the wrong thing. 

I’ve been told off this week for being sad. I’ve been told off for going out even though when it comes down to it that going out was necessary work. I’ve been told of for trying to follow the government guide, because the guidelines aren’t good enough. I’ve been told off for not eating properly when I’ve been eating properly. I’ve been told off for closing church services when it’s the right (if gut wrenchingly hard) thing to do. I’ve been told off for suggesting that face to face interaction beats virtual any day. I’ve been told off for not been excited about the opportunities this all presents. I’ve been told of for wanting to be with family because apparently family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been told off for not being a good financial planner when I’ve got all the structures in place. I’ve been told off (by myself) for moaning and negativity because it’s only for a season and in that season I’ve not only got to hold myself upright but everyone else as well. I’ll probably be told off for this blog.

So this morning when I look on Facebook and I’m being told off again for something I probably haven’t done but feel guilty for anyway, it could be the final straw - or this over analytical brain could try and crawl out from within its place of overthinking to try and make sense of it all. 

In various things I’ve done I’ve come across Maslow’s hierarchy of human needs - the things we need in life to survive. If we manage to make it the top than life will be goooood. The problem we have at the moment is that we’re right in the red in terms of need but we’re focussing on the amber and green. We’re trying to create places of belonging when actually we need to address the physiological needs first. And it comes down to this.....Does everyone have enough food? Are people safe? 

If we answer those questions yes in the work that we do, in the places we are, then we’re perhaps on the right track. And if that means going out, then we jolly well must..... if our jobs are about satisfying basic needs and we’re doing them if we can then we’re doing right.  

But beyond that? Perhaps we’re focussing on our own egos when we think it’s necessary to have to put on the shiny stuff to make people feel good. It’s my mourning of loss of community that’s making me feel most on edge. When the basic needs are satisfied, that community will come, but until then we shift our focus to the basics and we will, I hope survive. I’m knocked out of place because my place is in community, but I know now is not the time to do anything stupid. 

Yes it’s hard, but we’ve got to stop shouting at one another and competing with one another and strip back to what matters, doing what we can with the resources and regulations we have. 

Stay Home. Stay Safe. Care for those for whom that is not possible. And be kind to one another. We’re all hurting now. 

The Gift of Time

In all this time you have why don't you take up a hobby? 

In all this time you have why don't you do a theological reflection?

In all this time you have why don't you contribute to my study on life in a time of more time?

In all this time you have why don't you spend hours creating a flashy video that knocks the socks off all the rest?

In all this time you have why don't you join my zoom support group to help with all this time you have?

In all this time you have why don't you get down on your knees and pray? 

In all this time you have can you find some time? 

No, no I can't. I'm not sure as I peruse facebook  groups how people are finding the time to do all the things they want others to find the time to make the time to do. I'm not sure how they fit it all in. I often wonder if I am lazy or just slow or just not committed enough to ensuring I get all the time to make the time to do all the things they want me to have the time to make the time to do. 

Then I remember......

There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven, and that doesn't mean I have to do everything at once.

There is a time to celebrate with someone their new baby, their new project, their newly discovered talent, and a time to walk with those who are sorrowful, who are mourning, who are walking with the dying and dealing with loss.

There is a time to tidy up the garden and make it more beautiful than ever before and also a time to clear up the mess you never had time for before. 

There is a time to tear down old structures and declare good riddance and there is a time to build up those who are mourning the loss of the old as we plan for new ways as yet unknown.

There is a time for fear and crying and despair, just as there is a time for joy to explode in uncontrollable laughter as we see new things amongst rubbish or maybe just need to laugh.

There is a time for mourning, a huge time for mourning - the effects of years of austerity and the catastrophic effects this is having on our response to this crisis, but there is a time also to dance and celebrate with those who are creating hope amongst - the fundraisers, the community groups, the NHS workers who we celebrate with joy and with thankfulness....

There is a time to scatter stones, to look outwards, to dream, and there is a time to gather our dreams and hold onto them waiting to see if they will be realised. 

There is a time to embrace - and that will come and a time to refrain from embracing and social distance like pros. 

There is a time to search for new ways and there is a time to give up and realise that we've done the best we can for now.

There is a time to keep what is normal and a time to throw away those things that used to hold us back and don't seem important anymore. 

There is a time to be still, to be silent (it's number 6 on my weekly list) and a time to speak and attend zoom calls, one must not be more than another. 

There is a time to love those around us deeply and a time to hate those things that mean that we cannot love

There is a time for fighting all this and a time to find deep peace that passes all understanding. 

There is a time for all of this, but now is not the time for it all. 

Be gentle, do what you can, not what you think you should be able to do. And be still, find rest, sit down - for God has time for all of this. 

Walking with familiar things - Psalm 23 Reflection

It's the familiar isn't it that keeps us going on at the moment - familiar words, familiar songs, familiar faces, routine that continues like getting dressed for work in the morning and Emmerdale on for now for three nights a week. It's the photos that surround us and the daily whatsapps and updates. It's even the daily Government report. 

It's the familiar Bible passages, the words that have been said so many times they are implanted in my brain ready to fall out whenever I need a little encouragement. Those verses prompt songs and memories and give strength and a reminder that there is always hope and that I can find rest and I'm not the only one feeling the way I do right now. 

Whenever we face crisis in life, it's those familiar things that anchor us, that help us to pause for a moment. It's why I have been turning back to the Psalms - the ones I almost know off by heart because they soothe my soul. And when I do so and reflect on those words I am reminded that I'm not alone, God has me, and it will be OK, it might look different, but it will be OK. 

Today I've been thinking about a funeral service and what passage would be a good one to include and I said to myself 'it's got to be Psalm 23' - why? Because those words speak directly into the time of unknown, the time of grieving, the time of not knowing where we are coming or going.They speak of one who is there with us in all the dangers we face.  

So Psalm 23 is the Psalm of the day. And as I reflect on it, here is a version for what we face right now as we literally walk through (or try and isolate away from) the valley of the shadow of death. May this be an encouragement - one day we will feast  together again.  

The Lord is my shepherd, my carer, my guide, the one who feeds me and guards me. 
I shall not be in want, I shall not be left alone, I shall not be in need.

He makes me pause and rest, to lie down, to process, to take in the world around.
He leads me to a place where the noises of traffic have stopped, the sky is clear from the tracks of the aeroplanes and the phone, just for a while is silent.

He refreshes my soul, reminds me I'm loved, soothes my fears.
He guides me as to when to take risks and when to stay in, on the right path that shows love and care to others as well as me - for his sake, because he loves us all. 

Even though right now it seems like we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. 
Even though right now we must hide from those we love because the days are dark.

We have no need to fear, because the Lord is with us - his rod and his staff, his sheltering wings, his home delivery at just the right time - they comfort us and soothe our pain and fears. 

He prepares a table before us so we will gather again once again and feast, he does this because there is hope beyond where are now. He does this even though the virus still rages. He does this because it is in community gathered we reflect his image in glorious beauty. He does this because he gives us hope that all of this will end and there are better days. He does this as he gives us the promise of eternal life. 

He anoints us - chosen, gathered, sent with oil and our cups overflow with blessings - blessings that we see in the small things - blessings that we see in the huge things - blessings that are unexpected.... they're all there, if we look. 

Surely this will end, each day is a day closer to that, and as we journey in the way of the shepherd, his goodness and his love will follow us, for all the days of our lives. 

And we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Maundy Thursday Communion 2020 - Gathered yet Scattered

This is a communion service written for New Addington Baptist Church as we are unable to meet because of the restrictions imposed as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic. The idea is that we will all take part at the same time (8.15pm - after the clap for carers) on Maundy Thursday, and those who are able will meet virtually as we take part via zoom (which will be shared separately). The video of the service is below the script. 

Maundy Thursday Communion – Scattered but Gathered

Before we begin set the table with wine and with bread, ready to participate together. If you are with others, gather if you can. If you are alone be assured that you sit with many others even if you may not see them right now.

Find a quiet space, a different space, a space to be and take a moment to lay your day, your week before God, to say sorry for the things you have done wrong and to rest in his presence.

You might want to light a candle to remind you that wherever you are, whoever you are with, the Christ light will always shine. The light shines in the darkness but the darkness will not overcome it.

At this time we are unable to meet in person because it is not safe to leave our homes. We gather in an unfamiliar way, but as we gather we remember that many others sit with us, lay their tables and serve bread and wine. 

As we break bread and drink wine together we remember that we are part of something far bigger than what is in our homes, bigger than even when we meet in our church – that we are part of a worldwide church where this meal is a familiar meal, where bread broken and wine drunk is a remembrance meal that speaks of that time spent in an upper room as the disciples gathered with Jesus on the night before his death.

Read – Mark 14:12-16

So we gather at our tables, of different sizes and shapes. Some are mourning the loss of the sound of family meals. Some are where we would normally meet with those who can’t walk through our doors. Some are where school happens, where work is trawled through. Some are where jigsaws and the craft that we’ve taken up again have lain throughout the week.

Each table, it tells a story, and today the story it will tell is the story of 2000 years of history where the people of God have gathered and eaten and drunk to remember the first time that Jesus did this, on that first Thursday, the day before he was to go to the cross.

As we gather this evening, scattered in the community, this story that centres us reminds us that we are not alone.

We gather with those who we know well, who are part of our story, who we see on screens and hear through the telephone.

We gather with those we do not know, who are joining the story, all are welcome here.

We gather because we love one another.

We gather because we are broken.

We gather in our fears, in our worries, in our sickness, we gather to share in this story that brings us together.

As we gather we tell His story, which is our story too.

We gather at the table, with bread and wine, scattered yet together to give thanks through this meal.

Let us pray and give thanks

We gather here, Gracious God, struggling with being separate but glad to stand together

We give thanks for all you have given to us.

For this beautiful world we live in.

For family and friends, some of whom are with us, some of whom are far away

For food, for our homes, for the telephone, for the internet.

For those we know who are working on the frontline, who are serving and caring and sacrificing for others.

For all those things that make our life as full as it can be right now.

We offer our thanks and praise.

We thank you for this bread and this wine, on different tables, in different cups, on different plates, in different places, all symbols of your body broken and your blood shed for us.

We thank you for your story, which is our story – a story of redemption and new life, a story of restoration and forgiveness. We thank you that this meal speaks of healing and of mending and of love so deep it is beyond all comprehension.

We sit together, yet scattered, and we praise you Lord.

Amen

Read Mark 14:22-26

Take your bread and break it. This is Jesus’ body, which is broken for you. Though we eat from many loaves, we remember that in Christ, we, though many, form one body and each belongs to all the others.

Eat the bread and remember that Christ calls you to be his follower, he welcomes you as his friend, he calls you his family and he invites you to become part of his story.

Pause

Take your wine and hold it. This is Jesus’ blood, which is shed for you. Though we drink from many cups, we remember that in Christ, we though many, form one body and each belongs to all the others.

Drink this wine and remember that Christ died for you, he offers you forgiveness, he calls you his own and he restores your soul.

Pause

The disciples left that upper room and they walked to the Garden of Gethsemane. In the garden Jesus called them to prayer. He called them to wait. He called them to stand beside him. They waited and they waited for the events to come. It was to get worse before it got better, for as we approach tomorrow, the stink of death is in the air.

Pause

Beyond tomorrow this story speaks of hope, of new beginnings, of a time when the loneliness of the cross will become the glory of resurrection.

But for now, we wait and we watch and we pray.

Pressing the reset button

I'm in the middle of love facebook hate facebook tension. 

Facebook is a wonder because its keeping me in touch with friends and family when I am not allowed social contact that is not through the air or wires or special magic that means the voice comes out of my fireplace (that's Harry Potter, not real life - must remember). 

Facebook (and other social media joy) is also a frustration. It's full at the moment with games that say 'the rules are' (are these strict rules for copying and pasting a way of taking back a little bit of the control that didn't come back with Brexit and is definitely not anywhere near right now?). But it's also full of the thing that took me to blogspot to write this post.....

That's those posts that like to tell us that Coronavirus is a good thing - just look at all the good its doing they say....

We're creating new ways of being church they say - how wonderful - 5643 people watched my sermon last week (yes but it's rubbish being online - we're just making the best of a bad situation - and those 5643 people is probably one person refreshing 5462 times) 

Look at how the community is coming together they say (yes but you'll find that people come together in a crisis and it is perhaps because we're in an enforced break from real life that people are being nicer, but will it continue when life returns to normal? I'm not sure - I hope it does!)

Look at how the environment is better they say - all the pollution is gone (yes but do we really believe that when we're allowed out again people aren't going to turn the pollution button back on - how are we going to stop that happening?)

Look at how families are spending time together they say - (yes that's great for those families that live together - but what about the separated parents where the children can't see one parent for health reasons or what about the single person households who won't experience family life like that again for sometimes, what about the wife who can't visit her husband in the care home because it's on lock down? What about the woman in fear of her life because she can’t escape the violence.....Do we really think that's a good thing?).

Look at how people are realising that money isn't everything they say (but what about the people who are in fear of losing their homes when this is over, or their jobs when the government rescue passage leaves them sidelined or the business they work for goes under - I'm sorry (well I'm not) but that's a rich person's benefit and nobody elses).

I've read a few times the phrase 'nature is setting the reset button'. 

What is Coronavirus then? A punishment for all that we have done? Nature saying ‘I’ve had enough of you?’

By saying that this is some sort of reset button, you are putting the blame for all the suffering, all the pain, all the chaos, all the death, all the uncertainty and fear on those who are suffering - we've been walking against nature and now nature has put this in our path it can sort itself out. 

That's a poor perspective, particularly from those people who claim to not believe in anything outside of their comprehension. What is nature? How does it have control? 

I believe in a God who is creator - he created a perfect world, and because of the actions of human beings the world broke. It fell. Creation groans. 

And right now creation is groaning. 

But that doesn't mean I think this is a punishment from God. He’s not pressed some kind of reset button. 

This is a result of a broken world. Where is God in all of this? He is sitting in the hospitals holding the hands of the dying. He is an extra guest at the funerals nobody can attend comforting the families. He is sitting in the homes of the lonely, providing comfort. He is promising a day when this will be no more. 

But he is not setting the reset button. How can we justify 1000s, 10000s possibly millions of deaths because families are able to sit round the dinner table? How can we justify so much loss because I can see the city of London so clearly from round the corner because of the lack of pollution? How can we justify the pain and the suffering because we can now stream our services online and it will change the church forever? 

We can't. 

God, our God, is a God of restoration. He is God who moved into the neighbourhood in flesh and blood and walked with people in their most painful moments. He is God the Father who sent His Son to live on earth to die on the cross to take our wrongness, our shame and sin and provide a way out of the brokenness. God doesn't need to send a virus, set the reset button, cause this kind of chaos, because the reset button has already been pressed and that is in Jesus. 

By all means, look for hope in the suffering, that’s important, but also acknowledge the suffering. In Holy Week we walk through the suffering before we find the hope of resurrection. There will be a day when all is restored, but right now, it's more than a bit rubbish, and we've got to acknowledge that and stop telling people to 'chin up' in new facebook ways.

I read a prayer last night written by someone who suffers from a chronic illness that means she basically can't move because it hurts. It spoke more deeply into this situation than anything else I've read, so here it is - go read it - click here - she speaks into the reality of the situation - speaks of hope but acknowledges despair - as we live through the hard stuff, hope is there, but we’ve got to acknowledge that there is pain in the suffering - and that God is still here sitting with us amongst it.  

"Blessed be your name
when the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be your name

Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name"                  Matt Redman

Isolation Psalm (Reflection on Psalm 139)

Lord, you know me better than I know myself. 
You know when I sit on the sofa and you know when I go for my daily walk. 
You know exactly what I am thinking even though you seem far away. 
You know when I go out too often and you know when I don't feel like getting up.
You're familiar with all my habits and thinking. 
Before I get tongue-twisted on the phone or forget what I was going to say
You, Lord, know what I want to say already (sometimes I need you to tell me).
The knowledge you have of me is vast and wonderful
And I don't think I will ever understand my strange behaviour at the moment as you do. 

Where can I go from your Spirit? 
Where can I flee from your presence? 
If I go up onto the roof (that's not going out is it?) you are there. 
If I hide under the covers (that's definitely not going out) you are there.
If I rise earlier than I would normally do (why can't I sleep?)
If I settle into a rhythm that's alien but works
even there your hand will hold onto me,
Your right hand will help me stay upright. 
If I say, "Surely no one will remember me if I hide away
and the joy of being outside will become something to be forgotten"
even if I hide away for six months, you'll still find me
in the isolation I will never be alone, because however dark it gets, you are there. 

For you created me, from the inside out. You spent time knitting a pattern that had never been knitted before in my mother's womb. 
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Everything you do is wonderful, and I know that, in my deepest being. 
My design was completely revealed to you when I was made in a place no one else could see,
when I was woven together in the dark secret place. 
Your eyes saw me before I even looked like me
And all the days were already written down before I even existed. 
I'm really interested in what you are thinking God, 
Because your thoughts must be infinitely big. 
I would try and count them (and I've probably got time now, so say some people) but I know they are too many to count, even when in isolation.... 
Even if I go to sleep, when I open my eyes you are still there. 

If only you God, would destroy this virus. 
Away from me, all other people and your germs. 
This virus is not of you, but yet for a while it lives and claims to have control over our lives. 
I hate this virus, Lord, just as you hate it
Just as you mourn at the suffering of so many. 
I have nothing but hatred for it
I count it as my enemy. It makes me so mad. 

Search me, God, you know how my heart is. 
Test me and know that I am full of worry and fear. 
See that I don't take out my frustration on anyone
And lead me in your way, which speaks of a life lived beyond my front door.