Food, Faith and Lockdown

Those who know me will know I am passionate about the role of food in building faith community. The bonds we make around the table are key in building community. Relationships are built, we learn off one another, the table equalises us and we all have to eat. It's central to who I am as a person and in my calling to minister. 

And not gathering around the table has been hard. For us in our church community, food is normally central to what we do. From our community cafe that had just reopened and begun to build in momentum to our mental health support group that ends with a meal to our first Sunday gatherings around the most amazing bring and shares you've ever seen to the impromptu moments in the church building between and around the groups we lead to every meeting where someone will inevitably bring in biscuits or cake or chocolate to our holiday Make Lunch sessions where families come together round the table to share life together in what would otherwise be a difficult time.

Yet now, the only food activity that has continued since our building closed for anything but this very thing is the now twice a week deliveries of food from the amazing charity fareshare to households we support. As we sort the food for the deliveries we make, some of the value of the table is there - the conversations that go on in the kitchen echo with the joy of meals gone by and the opportunities that gathering around food brings for sharing life together are hinted at as we gather round tables to share out food. 

The question of re-opening our buildings and how that will work and what it will look like is hovering in the air. What does church look like post lockdown for a community focussed church without the resources of some of the bigger churches where during lockdown the support needed in the community has been magnified?

And it turns out that actually, the change in our gathering around food has given us some of the answers. In a community where physical presence is key, where internet connection is often on a mobile, where private outside space is minimal and where mental health issues are only going to grow as a result of the trauma we have experienced in the last few months the issues around social distancing in a building to worship are not the issues at the forefront of all of our minds. How do we build community when physically meeting is more difficult? How can we offer mental health support where through the screen we can't tell what the other is thinking? 

In a facebook group this morning, we had this discussion and we began to talk about how food has continued to be a key meeting, growing and life giving thing during lockdown. As we haven't as much gathered, but have paused as we play knock a door step back on deliveries, the deep love of Jesus has been felt in that two metre gap. Where food has been a reason for encounters, those encounters have become beautiful and, at times, essential. 

Often when you meet an individual or family on the doorstep you are the only person they have seen that day. The conversations that are had at that point are often pastorally important, absolutely needed and what my church community calls 'God moments'. One week I spent two hours delivering salad leaves, not because we had a lot (although we did) but because of the conversations we had and along with one of our other drivers who encountered someone at absolutely the right moment, we were able to be church on the doorstep through the moments we had on the way. We wouldn't have been able to have those conversations without the salad leaves. 

At the moment it's in those most needed encounters that we feel the presence of God most deeply. Perhaps post lockdown means building on that. Perhaps food is again the answer, not table gathering as such, because that won't be for a while, but door step encounters in the sharing of food, a moment with a neighbour across (or beyond) the garden fence sharing life, a picnic in the park with however many people is safe at that time, a moment outside the church building with coffee and prayer, an open air cafe, a pause outside a block of flats, a sit on a wall. Perhaps in the cake deliveries, in the church garden meetings, we might begin to feel and become the Christ-centred community we long to be. 

And one day, we will probably gather and we will probably sing and we will very likely sit tightly round tables in the small space we have, but those doorstep moments we have had on the way will enrich us as we speak of the encounters we have had with the deep love of Jesus, as we've not gathered, but stood, with food in between us, an excuse, a reason for a meeting where God's voice could be heard in the two metre gap. 

On walking alone part 2

About a year ago I wrote a blog called on walking alone reflecting on the challenges of being a single minister, particularly when moving south, far away from family. It’s been my most viewed blog (nearly 2000 views) and I’ve never been sure why. Perhaps it resonates with people. Perhaps someone accidentally keeps pressing refresh. Who knows? 

I’ve been thinking about how I ended up writing that as I’ve contemplated the idea of ending up in isolation on my own far away from family. It’s tough being on your own. 

As we went through our church lists and identified people with no close support and visited and talked to people who face the same questions of how might we manage if we lock ourselves away I realised that whilst we’re all in this together when you are in a single person household we’re in it together alone. And that’s hard. As I hear people worry about being locked away with family and I hear the plans for entertaining one another I wonder who is going to entertain me? Who is going to be there to pick the pieces up when the bits of life that have always been stable unravel and fall. 

And while this blog may seem self-indulgent, it’s a fact of life for many who are not able to reach out to family, friends and neighbours in the run of every day normality never mind in the new every day changes we’re encountering well, everyday. 

As I contemplate how life looks where my social distancing becomes more distant I wonder how I’m going to manage when the world closes in. 

Perhaps in the small things, the bird building a nest from my driveway or the flowers that will grow, oblivious to the crisis around speaking of the hope that takes us beyond the what ifs of the storm we are facing head on. 

Perhaps in the voices from favourite books or from comfort viewing of Gilmore Girls and Friends or the familiar faces of films we’ve watched a thousand times before.The songs that inspire singing and the faces in old photos that grin freely and speak of a life without fear. 

Perhaps in the ring of a telephone, the swoosh of an email, the envelope thrust through the door speaking news from elsewhere. The voices from faraway that remind you that together doesn’t have to be alone, instead a miracle of the drawing together of distance to be a little less than far. 

In this alone togetherness we listen, we wait, and we ponder and the one that never leaves us whispers here, I am here. 

“Don’t panic. I’m with you. There’s no need to fear for I’m your God. I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you. I’ll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you” Isaiah 41:10 (MSG) 

Onwards we row (together).....

Onwards we row....

A phrase I’ve said a lot recently. It speaks of the journey I’ve been on in the last year where seasons of change and celebration have arrived almost monthly as I’ve encountered exciting and challenging and life changing events that not only have affected my legs and my feet like a long walk, but have meant putting my whole self in and pushing onwards with my full being for the ride - occasionally just floating and enjoying the view before picking up my oars again and continuing on.....

Onwards we row.....

Around this time last year I was in York and stood watching three rowers in the river - racing rowers in their long thin boats. One boat had somehow got stuck on a tree trunk and couldn’t go anywhere. The other boats came up beside them and with much manoeuvring and team work they managed to remove the offending tree and dragged it back as the trapped boat was released to row once again. I watched as they manoeuvred the trunk to the side and then set off again on the journey. 


Onwards we row..... 

That picture of the boats in York has struck me again and again and as I sit in the week between induction when I was surrounded by those who have helped the path over the last year be as smooth as possible and Bapass where I will be handshook alongside some of my favourite dreamers (and missing the Eurovision finals again) I’ve come back to it.

We can’t be lone rowers because sometimes the tree trunk rises up from beneath. We can’t be lone rowers because sometimes we are so tired we need someone else to take the oars. We can’t be lone rowers because sometimes we might need to help others remove the the blockage from their path. We can’t be lone rowers because in those moments where we pause to glide we would have nobody to turn to and shout ISN’T THIS GREAT!! 

And that’s why community is so important - and why, for me, beyond and before leading a church community, being part of one is so important, because sometimes the rowing needs extra strength, and when I’m surrounded by those who get it, that extra strength to take the tree trunk to the shore appears without me even knowing and sets me again on my way. 

Onwards we row.....

The writer of Hebrews encourages the readers to “not give up meeting together” (Heb 10:25) - as we meet together we spur one another on to live out our faith and encourage one another to keep on keeping on....... Value your church community, value your support networks - your friends and your family - because you never know when you might need them to surround you and help you over the tree trunk that’s getting in the way. 

Onwards we row.... 

Inn Church?

In the 1881 census my Great Great Granddad Joseph Christopher Wright (from now on JC) was staying at an inn in the hamlet of Nosterfield (which was about seven miles from his home near the village of Healey in North Yorkshire). I've always wondered why he was there on census night. Had he had a bit too much to drink and taken a bed for the night? Was he going home from a journey or heading out on one? Was he seeing friends? Was he working? Was he there for only one night or had he been there a while? 

The inn in Nosterfield JC probably stayed

I won't ever know the answer but that doesn't stop the intrigue. The role of inns at that time was interesting - they were a way point - a place of rest on a journey. They were places where the community gathered, often having some kind of communal dining room. They were places of food and lodging - places of sustenance for the weary traveller, whether they stayed one night or were there for weeks. Travellers would have probably been invited to eat with the more permanent community and join for a while... I wonder whether JC had been invited in in this way. 

The oldest inns were established by monks, who have a history and culture of hospitality - welcoming the stranger in.... hospitality is key in the ministry of many monastic communities to this day. After the dissolution of the monasteries the nicer inns survived, but the ones that were for poor pilgrims were far more likely to close. These inns came into their own as people began to travel more for work (like perhaps JC did .....?) and became places of sanctuary and rest for those on a journey. 

Inns are places that intrigue - places with stories to tell. There are many stories written throughout history that include inns - dark stories, horror stories, stories of safety... love stories..... life changing stories. When you enter an old inn you often see stories on the wall - like the story of the Bible at the White Horse Inn at the foot of Blencathra in the Lake District (a place with excellent food) where legend has it that if it is removed bad things happen, and now after the pub was flooded it stays firmly in its locked cupboard.... I wonder what stories JC heard that night in 1881?

Over the last few years I have become more and more passionate about churches as communities of hospitality. If church is to be just that, then perhaps an image of a church that might be helpful could be that of an inn. All those values that came out of the early monasteries, where strangers were not simply nodded to, but were welcomed in to stay and eat and sleep, might be something we might endeavour to imitate. Perhaps those who pass by our buildings, our places of worship, our activities and even our homes might become those travellers to welcome in as they seek a place to rest. 

If church was like an inn, we would celebrate its history through the stories we tell. Stories of our past, stories of our founding, stories of people we have met on the way. Stories of why there are certain things we hold particularly dear and stories of when life has been really difficult. Stories that inspire and stories that we learn from.... when we know our story we can tell it to the people we encounter on their way. 

If church was like an inn, then it would be a true community gathering place; not just for the centre core, but for the strangers we meet on the way. The dining room would perhaps be an attractive and intriguing place to be for those who stay for a short while as well as those who become more long term residents. Perhaps the voices of the short-term stayers - the travellers - might inspire us to see something of where God is leading us as they encounter different things on their way.

If church was like an inn, it would be a resting place - a place of sanctuary - for the weary traveller. It would be a place where true rest could be found. It would be a place where the traveller could be restored and fed. It perhaps would be a resting place that became a place of belonging on the way. 

If church was like an inn it would contain all sorts of people - the core staff who make the inn feel like home, whose lives are based in the community and who make sure that there is a warm place to gather - the guests who pop in for a moment, but quickly leave again, having eaten and drunk, only to return another day for a while longer - the long term residents who came for a while for work or for play and then chose to stay.... It would contain the troublemakers in the corner who need to calm down and the jokers round the bar who are inappropriate at times.... the thinkers, the doers, the sleepers, the dancers.

If church was like an inn it would be both home and place of pause, both sanctuary and sustenance, a place to belong and a place to stay.... and Jesus would be sat at a table sharing His story through the lives of those who were part of the community that gathered from all ways and none.... 


(if you are interested in reading about inns here is where I got some of my info) 

Deep Impact

To the right is the picture (streams of people) I bought with money given as a gift by my church to mark the end of my time as minister in training. I bought it from an art gallery in Nottingham where the artist, Pete Spowage, painted it just for me. I love his art and would love to fill my house of his drawings of people going about doing their everyday stuff. 

I chose this painting in particular because I wanted something that would reflect the church community that had bought it for me. People, walking together and separately, in harmony, with purpose, making an impact wherever they go. You can see the footprints of the people's bodies, personalities and what drives them leak out from them leaving some sort of imprint. The rainbow colours remind me that God keeps his promises, that his promises have huge impact and that if we are looking to follow him, we aim to try and leave a bit of his love wherever we journey, reflecting his image. 

This painting now hangs in my living room and in the last few days in particular it's been catching my eye as I've been thinking about life, family, church, me...... I've been thinking about the impact I make on those around me. Which person am I in the painting? What difference am I making? Which way am I walking?

Last night I went to a lecture on the theology of care for people with dementia. The lecturer spoke about experience of memory loss and how it can be a bit like catching a snowflake. That even when the memory has faded, that the feeling of holding the snowflake is still there.... that the emotion of the memory lasts far longer than the memory itself. 

Sometimes the impact we make can go far beyond the memory of making the impact.... 

Sometimes the impact we make can be deeper than we ever know.... 

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity"                                                                     Colossians 3:12-14

Dining at the Heart

I recently went to visit Tatton Park for the first time. I've been reluctant to visit because you have to pay for the car park (if you trace my ancestry back I come from both Yorkshire AND Scotland), but it was worth it - a beautiful place to visit. 

What made it even more worth it was an exhibition called 'Guardian Angels' by the artist Cristina Rodrigues. Rodrigues is a Portugese born, Manchester based artist and a lecturer in Architecture. Her art installations use objects that were simply functional and sometimes obsolete and she gives them an artistic identity. Her art tells the story of and celebrates the role of women as keepers of cultural traditions. The art tells the story of those women, interwoven with her own stories. 

The art installation at Tatton Mansion was inspired by the room in which each piece stood - where the stories of the people who lived in the mansion were in conversation with the modern day stories that had inspired the artist. 

One piece that fascinated me was called 'Dining at the Heart'. The table was donated by an Iranian family who had replaced it with a table from Ikea. The description of the piece explains how it is reflecting on the fact that we now spend less time gathered round the table which once stood in the heart of our homes. The red ribbons are like blood - energy lines that bring life and tell a story. The ceramic hearts connected by the ribbons show how we connect to one another. The piece was in the kitchen of the mansion - the kitchen as the heart of the house making the house a home.

I'm currently thinking about what to do for my MA dissertation, and whenever somebody asks me I often reply 'something to do with food'. It's not because I love food and cooking (which I do, clearly) but because I believe that gathering around the table with food is vitally important to the building of Christ-centred community and is a practice that began with the early Christian communities we read about in the New Testament as they gathered, broke bread and shared lives together. 

I've seen how food draws people together. I've seen how food inspires us to talk. I've seen how eating together before our church meeting enhances the conversation. I've seen that gathering intentionally together with a brew (how Lancashire am I now!?) and the offer of cake to explore life and faith can bring deep conversation and open up channels of faith exploration that have been avoided for fear of saying the wrong thing. 

I've been looking back and going through my post it notes I'd left in 'Slow Church'* and I found again a whole chapter on 'Dinner Table conversation'. Smith and Pattison write that "eating together and conversing together are both vital practices of slow church community...." because we learn the language of the family at the dinner table. To build community we should make it a priority to eat and relax with our neighbours - yet so often we eat fast and we move on. 

I've made it a rule before our Sunday church meetings that we can't have soup until 12pm, when everyone is able to gather, so we are not rushing from service to meeting without pausing to be family together. It felt forced at first, and I think people thought I was just being stubborn, but now it's becoming habit, and it makes a difference to what we say and do in our meetings - and we leave later - not because the meeting goes on forever, but because the meeting begins around the table, with food, where we gather and we learn what it means to be the family of God. Encouraging slowness in community sometimes needs to be intentional and often counter-cultural, but in that intentionality,  slowly, slowly the community begins to become more beautiful as it takes time to realign and centres itself on Christ. 



*Slow Church by Christopher Smith & John Pattison. I blogged about it here

The Parable of the Polygons (and let's add some shapes with curved edges because they're important too)

I often talk about what normal is with one particular mathematician friend. Whenever anyone talks about what normal is then there needs to be a central defining point. For us, (jokingly of course) it's people like us. We're two different people with a different set of beliefs but with a number of things that unite us, so if we are both normal the concept of what is normal (if it is to be us) must be quite diverse. What I value in our normalness together is the fact that we can engage on a level that has more depth than engaging with people who are just like us. 

I've been doing a lot of thinking about community building and hospitality in a church context. When we look to belong we often look to people who are like us. Same social standing, same economic background, same interests, same...... those social groupings are based on our own concept of normalness. To begin to let the group grow beyond that normality is seen as taking risks or messy or rocking the status quo. 

Or is it?

I recently came across the 'Parable of the Polygons' which was shared on facebook. This attracted me because of the word Polygon and probably put a lot of people off because it sounds a bit mathematical. Anyway, have a read and a go, it is really interesting - like a game you could play for ages..... and there are graphs. 

The general gist of the Parable of the Polygons is that the choices we make in the way we relate to different social groupings and the way we invite people to be part of our own social groupings can cause harm if we don't make those choices carefully. We can say we are seeking equality, we are seeking to embrace all, but in making bad choices as to who we spend time with we could be creating a community made up of unhappy triangles....it'll all make sense if you have a play... go on, I dare you. 

The writer wraps up with three points, the last one of which tells us to 'demand diversity near you'. They say that we need to look around us and that if we are all triangles we're going to be 'missing out on some amazing squares in your life - that's unfair to everyone'. 

The results of this parable are interesting - that where we demand a bit of diversity in our groupings, this makes a huge positive difference overall. 

So, why is this important in the context of a church community? 

Well, words are batted around about being welcoming, inclusive, seeking diversity; we say that God's love is for everyone, not just people like us, that Jesus died on the cross for everyone, not just those we like, they just need to respond to him. But then we mourn (or some of us secretly love I reckon) the fact that churches are monochrome, made of one generation, too family orientated, too feminine, too masculine, just too..... 

What the Parable of the Polygons shows us is that where a small minority are committed to challenging the biases that naturally exist in our communities, that can make a difference, but that it takes work. It doesn't take giving up and hoping it happens. It doesn't take giving in and saying 'well this inevitable'. It takes 2,3, 4..... people who are committed to being anti-biased to change a community, and as more people see the change, feel the change, recognise it as beneficial to the wider community they will join too. 

In recognising the diversity that should naturally exist in the people we group with as a local church, we recognise how society has changed. We'd like to hold on to a time when society was not as it is today, but then we miss the beauty of what we can learn from the God places - the thin places where heaven and earth meet that exist in the communities around us. 

So perhaps we need to change where the boundaries are, and that's what those triangles and squares seeking diversity are doing. Where the status quo changes to something more reflective of where people actually are, where the diversity of culture is expressed, then the community we are part of becomes better, more beautiful, more reflective of the Image of God in which we were created. In the end perhaps we'll be happier together....?

I've been reading 'Tracks and Traces' by Paul Fiddes. I love this book... he says on p133....

".... If we are to minister to society as a whole, and to its various social groupings that can no longer be confined to a nuclear family, then we must learn to 'open up space' within the boundaries of the gathered church. We must learn hospitality which is not patronizing and which values people for whom they are. We must let our living space overlap with others". 

A type of hospitality that is unbiased? Welcoming the squares and the triangles and the shapes with curved edges? Is that more normal than gathering with people who are like me? Is that what a church with Christ at the head should look like?

And everyone else....

One of the challenges of new year is more often or not the question of 'what shall I do on new years eve?' I try not to think about this question too early as it preoccupies me and I worry I'd make the wrong choice. The answer to this question has led me to a variety of different new year things with different people. I think the last time I didn't enjoy new year was when I had a horrible headache and went to bed at 10 missing celebrating the new year with my then boyfriend and his parents. 

This year I thought about spending new year on my own - just to see if it was ok. I thought about watching my new Miranda DVDs and possibly being really counter cultural and going to bed early. I'm not though, as it feels right to be with people at new year and I am spending it with people who I love a lot.  

One of the best things about the time around Christmas and New Year is time people take to just be with people. For me it is my family who have unspoken traditions of gathering for boxing day tea and going for a walk in the worst weather possible (this year we did it on the day of the storms - amber weather warning - let's walk). Community is important, yet as a single person I am very aware of how easy it is for people to get left isolated where everyone else around you is doing what they want to do. To do what I want to do I sometimes feel like I am invading the space of others. 

Today I read a newly released book I saw on Twitter called 'Cancer and Theology' edited by Jake Bouma and Erik Ullestad. It's a collection of essays exploring what Christian faith has to say about cancer. It struck me in reading it how important community is. For a number of the writers what was important in their experiences and in the experiences of those around them was the community of people who stood with them. Those who didn't just walk away and offer to pray, but asked them what they needed prayer for. Those who didn't just offer to help, but turned up with hot food at the right time. Those who didn't just want to sympathise but who wanted to talk about normal stuff too. Those who didn't say it'll be ok, but acknowledged that cancer is rubbish and sat through the rubbishness with them. 

Life changes, illness, being different and looked over can isolate us from community. Our fear of 'the other' means we sometimes unthinkingly isolate those who need to be welcomed. Our fear of being annoying or rejected means we isolate ourselves from being welcomed. We can't fix everyones problems by making them like us but we can stand with them on their journey and also seek out others to ride the waves with us. 

The challenge is to seek out community and not walk away from those who can stand with us. The challenge is to face the fact we might not always get it right, but accept one another even when we don't. The challenge is that people are sometimes weird and difficult - but that's ok. The challenge is to look, listen and simply be. The challenge is to fully embrace the idea that every person within a community is made in the image of God.

Real life graphs are not all the same

When I was at secondary school I was proud of the fact that I was 'an individual' - I didn't go with the crowd. I was also very lonely as because I was a bit different I didn't really fit in. At school the in-crowd was not where I wanted to be, I was too much of a geek for the people who were trying to fit in with the in-crowd and I was never very confident and struggled to make friends.

Because I have always been on the edge, not quite fitting in to any particular group, sometimes in the centre of the group, but then gradually pushed to the edge, I realised quite quickly that people don't necessarily expect you to be different to them. If someone is found out to be different they're seen as the odd one and difficult to understand. I also began to recognise that people react to news in different ways. Some people want to share their news with the whole world, talking it through, solving problems alongside others and exploring ideas together. Others will keep their news to themselves until it becomes something that is not news any more and they have dealt with it and don't want to analyse it. Then there are all the extremes in between. There are people who want others to fix their problems, and others who don't believe they have a problem to fix ..... 

The thing is when you live in a diverse community (like church should be) is that everyone is not like you. Too often we expect people to be just like us. One of the privileges of being a minister is that people open up to you - they tell you about their lives and what makes them tick. They tell you the story of their faith journey and how they relate to God now. They reveal something of how they deal with life's problems and difficulties and as you get to know them you know how to care for them. 

If as a minister I assumed everyone dealt with life like me I'd miss the beautiful diversity in the people I care for. We are all made in God's image and in the way we relate to others in community we can express that in big ways as we learn about one another, know one another, give space to one another and serve one another. 

We've got to realise that people are different. We've got to recognise that what would make one person shout for joy makes another feel complete peace - it doesn't mean they haven't experienced the same thing, it just means they are different people, expressing their feelings in different ways.

When I was teaching real life graphs I would often get my classes to draw a graph of their emotions during the day. Some pupils would draw big ups and downs. Some would have a flatter line with small troughs and hills. Some would say, emotions? What are they? I don't want to talk about them. 

My graph is quite flat. I get grumpy, but I don't weep very often. I smile, but I don't scream with delight. I probably won't tell you about it or ask you to analyse it with me, I'm a mathematician - mathematicians solve problems alone most of the time.....but I'm there.... level headed and journeying on. 

When we are journeying with others its important to recognise what graph they would draw. God made us all different, and we have to celebrate that, but also honour one another in our differences - never expecting anyone to act exactly like us.

 "I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn’t just a single part blown up into something huge. It’s all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, “I’m not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don’t belong to this body,” would that make it so? If Ear said, “I’m not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don’t deserve a place on the head,” would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it".                                      1 Corinthians 12:14-18    

Education, Learning and Community

I love education - I love learning, I love thinking about how we learn, I love discovering new ways of learning. I love maths (no secret) and I love learning new stuff - theology - totally different way of thinking to maths, answers to questions create more questions and thinking is more important than solution. 

I was talking to my nephew about learning maths. He is bored in maths lessons. He doesn't like being told what to do and doesn't like repeating the same thing over and over again as once he knows how to do it, he knows how to do it. I understand his frustration, but for me, doing the same thing over and over again is therapeutic and I like being able to do and get the right answer. I love logic puzzles and the feeling of completeness when one is finished. The problem with maths is that not everyone feels like that - and that is where the general feeling of dread and hatred of maths come in. Maths is apparently boring. I told somebody yesterday that I used to be a maths teacher and he asked me if I had repented. 

The thing I think that conventional Maths lessons too often miss out on is that light bulb moment of discovery. We are too often trained in methods and don't understand the reasoning. When I was teaching the most fun moments were when the students discovered things for themselves, when Maths made them excited..... Those light bulb moments of realisation are part of the beauty, for me, of learning. 

Discovery is so much better than spoon feeding. Discovery gives moments in learning that are not forgotten. While the current Government talks of going back to a method of education that leaves little space for discovery, the delight of those light bulb moments seem too far away. We are given choices, but only regulated ones. There is no space for thinking outside a box containing only what one particular group of people thinks is important. 

I am part of a learning community. I love that title. It expresses the place I am in as a place of discovery, a place of new, a place to journey. It is not a place where knowledge is boxed, but is a place where knowledge is discovered. Space is made for light bulb moments that are unique to the discoverer. This afternoon, I am an educator being educated by an educator about education. A learner learning from a learner about learning. The interchangeable position of educator and learner in a learning community makes me excited (and baffles my mind sometimes). 

I've been reading* about the church as a learning community - one of the key parts that the church plays is that of discipleship - discipling one another. We don't focus enough on the quality of our education in churches. Some churches educate in doctrine - 'you must believe this' and in contrast some churches education is so vague no-one is really sure where they are going. They pick up bits and pieces but they are not sure how it fits together. A good education system looks at the bigger picture to influence the smaller pieces and the smaller pieces to influence the bigger picture. It creates space for discovery as well as space to be told. 

Psalm 119 talks about God's word being a lamp to our feet. It's not in a box, as light gets everywhere. It's not dotted around, it's focused on our feet... guiding us on our way, giving space for discovery of new things. That's what learning needs to be like - with space for discovery and with guidance for where the knowledge is to enable that discovery. It needs to overall have a common purpose - guided ultimately by God - not vague, not so strict there is no space for exploration, but focused on truth and providing the most beautiful and exciting light bulb moments bigger than we can ever imagine. 

If church is to be a learning community, we all need to be prepared to get stuck in. We all need to be reading, exploring and discovering. We all need to be talking to each other and spaces need to be made to do that. If we are not prepared to read or talk about God's Word, and about the impact it has on our lives we'll miss out big time. 

*R W Pazmiño  Foundational Issues in Christian Education: An Introduction in Evangelical Perspective - liking it so far!

 

Loving the old and embracing the new

Living in a small town can sometimes be great, but can sometimes be really frustrating. I like the history, the tourist stuff, the chocolate. The quirkiness of small town living makes me happy. I have got used to having the name of the place I live laughed at (although it gets irritating at times - but I can't talk - I used to laugh). I like the fact that about five minutes walk away I can climb a hill and at the top I can see into the centre of Manchester.

My problem is that I have been a city (or very large town!) girl all of my life. I am used to having every large supermarket possible within about ten minutes drive. I am used to being able to walk to the train station (I can walk to the train station here, but I can only get a steam train). I love the variety in the industrial landscape - new and old mixed together. My favourite city is Birmingham. You drive in and you see old Birmingham mixed with new. A combination of history and forward thinking. The Selfridges building rises up in its blue and silver curvy space age style amongst crossing railway lines and arches that have been there for years and years. 

Love it!

 

Yet I bet that whenever anything new was built - the town hall, the bull ring tower, the Selfridges building, the railways, people complained about the monstrosity that was to be built. 

I love history, yet I love new innovation, and history would not be so interesting if innovation hadn't happened in the past. There are people who have stood up and looked forward and things have changed. They didn't necessarily reject the past, and probably celebrated it, but were also inspired and more often or not walked against the flow, gathering people with like minds on the journey. 

Birmingham reminds me that life is constantly changing, that diversity is exciting and that innovation can run alongside long established ideas. A living and active church is just like that. The community sees the need to celebrate the past and appreciate its foundations, but also recognises the need for vision and diversity in its outlook. Community living is changeable, sometimes volatile, but so often brilliantly beautiful. 

When the community becomes insular and resistant to difference, then the community becomes more like a stately home, which is interesting for historical purposes but will continue to stay the same - stuck in an era that is separate from where people really are. It becomes a place to dream about what has gone rather than what might be coming. 

I was watching Four Weddings* and one of the brides said about another's church venue that it was like two different places - old and beautiful on the outside and like a community centre on the inside. She was very disappointed. She wanted the tradition without the church community. If we really believe that church is community and live that out, then perhaps that juxtaposition of old and new should become the norm, not the surprise. 

*Programme where four brides rate one another's weddings and somebody wins a dream honeymoon. Mind numbing entertainment!