Looking for the best seat in the coffee shop? Look again....

I was sat in the corner of an empty coffee shop this morning drinking a large black Americano (it's Monday after all) pleased I'd managed to get my favourite seat again - the perfect seat where I had clear view of the door so I could keep an eye on who was coming in, but had my back to the wall so nobody could surprise me. The cushions were perfect and the temperature was right.

The coffee shop began to fill up. First was a someone who clearly was waiting for a business meeting beside me - his meeting companion turned up, introduced himself and the next time I looked they had disappeared. A woman with a toddler arrived and they sat a couple of tables away, ready for an early lunch. A toddler from our toddler group arrived, not accompanied by his Mum (who I know) but by three strangers who I assume were his Dad and Grandparents who were picking up takeaway lattes.

And then it happened. 

The door opened - a woman with a buggy and small baby. She sat one table away, shifted the tables and manoeuvred her buggy into place. 

The door opened again and another woman with a buggy waved hello and shifted the table enough to fit in a high chair - she looked at me now a little pinned in and apologised (a little) - I said 'someone is joining me' (worried they wouldn't get in). She shrugged and put the baby in the high chair. 

The door opened again and another woman (without a buggy) sat down at the table, handing her baby to another as she went to get a high chair for hers.... by this point the possibility of me having space for my companion was almost nil unless we wanted to sit knee to knee with our heads in the high chairs and (as I don't like to get too close to people and meeting in this way for a serious conversation would not have been good) I considered moving.... 

The women, as if in sync, then picked up their babies and stood up in a dance that only a group of mums can do and rocked.

I took that opportunity to slide across the bench and frown as my perfect seat was exchanged for the seat next to the sauces and the menus, ready for interruption from the next person who needed a condiment.

It reminded me of an episode from Gilmore Girls (not that I am an addict, honestly) where Luke the diner owner is rather grumpier than normal and he points out that the reason why is the group of parents and babies who set up camp in his diner every weekend, bringing tables together and changing the status quo. 

I realised I was turning into Luke... and I tried not to.

I recently had a conversation with a woman somewhat older than me about children in church. She said that they used to have a few children, but that when one of them got to 18 months, he began to get a bit boisterous and actually was too much of a distraction to the congregation and preacher and secretly she was glad he wasn't there any more. But she'd like more children in church. 

As I sat and was entertained by one of the babies in the high chair who cheered me up as I was waiting for a meeting that didn't happen because it had been planned for a different day, I reflected on this, and my own response to the entry of the three women to the coffee shop. I loved that those children were there. I loved that they made me smile.... but I didn't like being knocked out of place.... 

Perhaps the women should have thought of me a little more, but actually, it didn't matter, I still had a place to sit... I could still see the door... I still had a wall at my back so no-one could creep up on me... and actually no-one wanted condiments while I was sat drinking the last dregs of my coffee. I told myself off, and as I did so I reflected on what I could have said to the woman who was secretly glad that boisterous toddler wasn't there anymore. 

If we want to be welcoming and not just friendly to people of all ages, but particularly young children, we need to accept them as they are. Those women with babies - they just wanted some space, and yes, maybe they could have asked, but actually, it wasn't really a problem to frown at. The child who likes to run, let them run... as a preacher I'm happy that children feel free to run and play at the front (and I think it's good for the church to embrace that kind of life!). When the time is right, then part of my role as worship leader is to help them to learn how to and enable them in worship, so I sit down with them on the step and speak to them at their level as I share with them and the rest of the congregation... or I pick them up and they help me to lead the whole congregation as their smile tells us all something of the Kingdom of God... or I sit them on one of the 'special' communion chairs because the joy it brings to their faces brings joy to the rest of us... 

I do this because Jesus said 'let the children come to me, do not stop them - the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these...'.

My experience in the coffee shop was a bit of a warning to me that our resistance to a change in the status quo can be so deeply ingrained that we do not realise why we are acting in the way we are before it becomes too big to manage.... and that my challenge to that woman in the church should have been a challenge that I also give to myself...

As church we need to be constantly asking whether our frowns and secret celebrations are what place hostile barriers to prevent us welcoming like Jesus.... and we need to ask whether a slight slide down the bench to a place that is not perfect for our own needs might be what's best for the bigger picture and it might be just where God is calling us to slide...... in fact, if we are to be welcoming and not just friendly it probably is....

Don't be like Luke.... or actually like me in Monday morning perfect seat coffee shop mode.. there is a better way to be.... 

Go on.... slide....

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) 

Give it time (but don't forget to give it a good thump too....)

I am currently baking my way through the Bake Off Great British Book of Baking. I have challenged myself to bake everything in that book in order, whatever comes my way, adapting recipes as needed as I go. I finally finished the first section just over a week ago and have moved onto bread.

I've made bread before - my attempts at making bread, however, weren't always successful until I got my standing mixer with that amazing thing called a dough hook. It means I don't have to go through the effort of kneading and the recipe that the mixer came with produces, with minimum effort, the perfect white loaf. A pre-packaged system that works....

However, today I began my second recipe in the Bake Off bread section, and after the perfect white sandwich loaf (which actually turned out reasonably perfect) I am moving on to the poppy seed (well Nigella seed for me, as my local Tesco had no poppy seeds) bloomer..... and rolls (or cobs where I come from). This recipe involves a lot of commitment. I started at 9am this morning (it's now 2:21pm) and in between my admin and planning for the week I have revisited the bread a number of times. It is currently resting for the third time before I have to do something more with it. It is nowhere near being in the oven and calling itself eatable bread yet - it'll be at least another 2 hours before it comes out. When I started, before I read the recipe, I was hoping it was going to be ready for lunch, but instead I had to get crumpets out of the freezer. 

I was hoping that I could do what I normally do and simply knead it in the mixer with the fabulous dough hook, however, as it wrapped itself around the head of the dough hook I realised this was not possible - it had got too big, too adventurous - it wanted to make its way out - so I had to knead it by hand. 

I, of course, could go to the shop and buy some white sliced - white sliced is good for crisp sandwiches - that quick fix comfort food I turn to in times of heavy grumps.... but the feeling and achievement of making the crisp sandwich doesn't last long and it's not quite the same as a good, home-baked loaf of bread. 

The reason why bread takes so long is because it's a bit of a craft - to make it really good, better than the quick fix method of baking (or buying) is a long term commitment to the end product (even if it doesn't turn out well). The yeast needs time to grow the bread. The bread I have made today doesn't even have sugar in to give the yeast that quick burst of energy it needs to get going like the first cup of coffee in the morning. 

The dough, once grown, has to be knocked back, because it gets too big for its boots. Bread making is actually quite a painful process. As I opened up the risen dough after four hours this morning and peeled off the cling film, the dough collapsed (as it should do) because it was full of air that didn't need to be there. Then, as I added a new dough, it combined to make something better, something new, something more solid....

Something that could be shaped. 

And that's where the dough is now (I paused this blog to play with it a bit more) - it's shaped, ready to go in the oven once it's grown again.... and I have no idea how it is going to turn out. 

As I've been making the bread I've been reflecting on church - returning to the principles of Slow Church which have inspired me so much... that to become something good - to become something beautiful - to have that fragrance that makes people want to participate in sharing... that it's like the slow and, at times surprising, and at times painful way in which bread is made that sustainable and long term growth happens. 

It's alright going out and getting the white sliced for the crisp sandwich occasionally, because sometimes the quick fix is all we need... but it won't satisfy forever. 

It's alright buying a machine with a pre-packaged recipe to create the same loaf of bread every time, but soon that same loaf of bread will become too samey, too old, too familiar, and the surprising nature of Christ centred church community will be lost. The machine will wear out, and as we seek the now defunct parts to the mixer, the possibilities of the old and tired dough becoming bread will be less and less. 

Instead, we've got to make space for experimentation, for trying a new way, a different way, a way that works for the kind of bread we are hoping to be - the kind of church we are hoping to become. This might mean sitting at the top of my stairs for 4 hours as we grow slowly and bubble and become something that might bake. This might mean being knocked back and losing some of our energy as we take the hits of the consequences of the change brought about by forward movement. This might mean being open to a new dough that will change us into something else. This might mean being knocked back again and shaped to become who we are called to be. 

But it means being there, committed to the process, committed to the commitment, because without commitment, the dough will end up lying flat. 

I will, I hope, see my bread baked, possibly by tea time... but with church? We may be the ones who pass through the waiting stage, and we wait a while, not knowing what we will become....or we might pass through the knocking back and feel bruised for a while, wondering what the next stage will bring, but with our eyes on the bigger picture, we might hear one day (or even see it for ourselves) of the joy of the smell of freshly baked bread.

"Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint"               Isaiah 40:30-31

On being (not) young

"Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young...."   1 Timothy 4:12a

Young me

I used to take that verse and make it my own. I used to take that verse and use it to remind me that God had called me to do what I was doing..... preaching, leading, seeking to try and follow him. 

But I don't any more. Because I am not young anymore. There are other verses that affirm me in my calling, in where I am going and in who I am in God. 

However, there are a number of people who look on me as that young one who has been called by God - not in a looking down on me sort of way but as an encouragement to them that young ones are coming through. 

Before snapchat you had to
paint your face green and
wear an optic fibre lamp in
your hair to give a similar
effect

But the thing is, I am not young. I am just too old to be called a millenial, never mind whatever comes after that. I don't understand snapchat and the use of snapchat filters causes me to frown like the way people used to frown at my generation when people were buying trolls and dummies (what were those plastic dummies about?). I went off to uni (first time) 20 years ago and I have peers from school who have 4 children (some of whom are teenagers and above) and others who are now Grandparents. I am getting to the age where the possibility of being able to have children is sliding away and I now wake up aching rather than jump out of bed (to be honest, I've never been a jumper out of bed). 

And while I know that what constitutes young is very much determined by the culture of the room and situation, the meaning of young is defined in community.... I'm getting increasingly worried about our perception of young in churches. 

If I am a young one, a youth, a fresh faced voice into the mix, then I think we've found one of the answers as to why churches have the so-called 'missing generation' (I'm even almost too old for that now) - 20s and 30s are missing from our churches - why is that? Perhaps its because we forgot to treat them as adults, we treated them as youth until they were so far beyond youth they were almost pensioners. We humoured their ideas and ways forward, but we never took them seriously. We made some token changes, but we did not recognise the need for radical overhaul as life changed and the so called young moved on. 

And for many, because of this, church has become a tradition to be nodded to rather than a living and active spiritual house. And that, very much, is a problem..... and we need to change.

 

That Coat.....

I really don't care. Do u?

That coat. Of all the bad fashion choices. Of all the inappropriateness of the statement..... this is probably one of the worst. Wearing your heart on your sleeve? Why not wear it on your back? Why would you want a coat that looks like it has be graffitied anyway? 

I really don't care. Do u? 

On the back of a week where children and their parents have been separated at the southern border of the US, Melania Trump has worn a coat that has confused us all. It seems she has expressed all that we have been thinking that the Trumps have been thinking with one strange fashion choice.

I really don't care. Do u?

Well, actually, generally I don't care what people wear. It's up to them, however, some clothes do make a statement, and this one it certainly does..... but is our reaction to the coat diverting our attention from what is really going on? Is the shock over the bold statement written in what looks like white paint on the back of a coat distracting us from the cries of the children who may or may not re-united with their parents depending on what happens next... what rule change is next. 

I think that Melania Trump asks us all a valid question, which should challenge us all. As we stand and we point fingers, as we raise our eyebrows and tweet and rant and write blogs.... we have got to ask ourselves the question.... do we really care? 

The problems on the US border are so far away we can express our devastation from afar but we know we don't have to get involved. Even our own Prime Minister who rarely speaks out against Trump has said that the hostile environment that is separating the children has gone too far....

Hang on a minute. Hostile environment?

Do you care?

In the wake of the Windrush scandal, where people who have lived in this country for decades have been sent back to a home that never was a home, in the wake of the inadequate action taken to settle children under the Dubs scheme, in the wake of the fact that there are still people dying trying to cross the Mediterranean, in the wake of the fact that there are still many many people camping on the coast of France in conditions that we wouldn't believe and even contemplate..... Do you care? 

What are you going to do about it? What are you going to do about this hostile environment where in the US children's cries are heard as they wait for the what next.... What are you going to do about this hostile environment that labels people as 'the other' so we can leave them in any conditions and danger that we want? 

Do you actually care? Or might that coat actually suit you too? 

I'm challenged that I am not doing enough. I am challenged that I sit in my study in suburbia and I write, but as I write I feel helpless, what can I do? 

The Joint Public Issues Team has launched a campaign to challenge the government's approach to illegal immigration which is leading to destitution, discrimination and distrust. The campaign challenges us to take action, starting by writing to our MPs. I'm going to do that when I have finished writing this blog. It seems like a tiny step, but I believe any step is a start. 

As we hear the stories from the US. As we read that ridiculous coat..... We should be challenged.

Yes I do care. Do you? 

“If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?”

James 2:15-16

As the ground shakes.....

There is a constant banging in Ramsbottom at the moment, and as you get closer to the source of the noise, the floor actually vibrates. For anyone sensitive to ground movement or sound it is a bit of a nightmare because it means that it agitates and it stops normal life feeling normal. 

They're building some houses - but I'm guessing the ground where they are building needs some work - and the constant banging is them making a breakthrough - them creating the foundations to make those houses safe. 

If you hit long enough and hard enough the ground will give way. 

The process is painful, but it's getting somewhere. 

Part of my calling as a minister is to help church move forward and change - move on from the past and be faithful to what it is to be called to be a church in the world today, not holding onto the things that could be moved, not holding on to the rocks that weigh us down, not burying ourselves under concrete, but to be released to be the people we could be as we seek to be serving Christ in this community. 

I believe that new can grow from old - that the foundations of the past are something that the new can grow in. You can see it when flowers spring up from the cracks in the paving stones. You can see it when that new life begins to spread and impact the old around. 

But sometimes it can feel like there is a layer of concrete to drill/bang our way through, before that new can really explode into life. Sometimes it can feel like we are that machine that is banging and banging to make way for the new. Sometimes that concrete is difficult to crack. Sometimes all the work seems pointless and you don't feel like you are getting anywhere.....


But... if you go on long enough and keep being persistent, where the Holy Spirit is guiding, the ground will give way. It might mean finding others to be persistent with you. It might mean doing it in relay - that passing on the baton can provide new energy to continue and new eyes to spot where the breakthrough will be.... but the work that has been done already, and the work that we are doing now, and the work that will be done in the future on breaking that ground all matters..... Like the day by day persistent banging breaking ground on the building site in my town at the moment. 

As I write this, the banging has stopped. It may be that ground has been made and it will move onto the next bit (in fact it just has), it may be that the machine needs a rest because it is hot and tired..... it may be that the ground beneath has been revealed  or cleared and the building can begin. 

So often building means stripping back first... and some stripping back is more energy draining and time consuming and irritating and seemingly pointless than others. 

But I am confident, like the builders, now making the town vibrate again, that in the end it will be worth it and those new houses, those new ways will be embedded into the community, and the learning of new ways of living and serving can begin once again. 

When God is involved.....

"The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom;
it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy"      Isaiah 35:1-2a

Tent Pitching - Some Thursday Night Dream

After spending an afternoon dreaming of what we could do, and then an evening frustrated at what we can't, I was reminded of one of my favourite quotes......

"A church which pitches its tents without constantly looking out for new horizons, which does not continually strike camp, is being untrue to its calling.... [we must] play down our longing for certainty, accept that which is risky, and live by improvisation and experimentation" - Hans Kung 

Just imagine if we lived and moved like this - constantly looking forward, constantly looking onward, not settling but dreaming, determined to follow in the ways of Jesus, without dragging our feet or digging our heels in. How different things might be..... 

You only live once, carpe diem, seize the day…… before it whistles by. Be unbound by the binds of institution and of fear and of comfort and of self consciousness, because there is more beyond….  So much more….. 

“God can do anything, you know - far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us” - Ephesians 3:20