Exactly where you need to be......

I was sent this card the other week. Well, it was socially distanced hand delivered to my doorstep and it strikes me every day I look at it. "You are exactly where you need to be, one year on". 

I'm slowly doing one of those things that everybody is doing at the moment on facebook - mine is the 30 day music challenge and it's taken me more than 30 days to get through it because I haven't thought about it every day but I am on day 20 and the song of the day is 'one that has many meanings to you' and I was reminded of Lauren Daigle's "You Say" (which is at the bottom of this post).

I chose this song because I remember the day I was sent this by one of my favourites. It was when I was looking to move churches and it spoke deep down into where my trust and identity needed to lie. I remember the day I first heard it on the radio when I was driving down to the church for the first time after moving. I remember the time I heard it live in Shepherd's Bush with a friend with whom I've been on a journey through some really hard stuff. I haven't listened to it for a while, but the words keep speaking whenever I listen to them, knowing that I am enough because God made me enough (and far much more). 

I do, from time to time, doubt myself and my own ability to do be all I have been called to be, not least at this time of lockdown. When it's at its worse I overthink, react badly and struggle to motivate myself. At the moment everything I do is new, even though some of it has been going on for nine weeks, it's new. We've had to overhaul church working structures, change completely the way we work and my support networks have become a series of faces on the screen and WhatsApp messages, and I'm not going to lie and say it's been easy - it hasn't been - the burden is difficult to carry and the heavy weight of responsibility to carry others to the new when everything is still as new as new can be to me is challenging. As I discover new things I am very conscious that I am only a tiptoe ahead of everyone else, and my nervous confidence hides the fear I have that I might not be able to stop myself falling over, never mind anyone else. 

Last night I was talking with friends and it's the first time I've answered the statement 'I think you must be doing a great job' with 'yes, I might be' (or something like that). 

This week is mental health awareness week and as we've all been rocked from our very core, mental health is something that we all need to be thinking about at the moment - the mental health of others and also our own mental health. Even if we have not suffered from mental health issues before, the current uncertainty, the devastation of lives and the frustration not being able to fix anything is going to affect us all. Perhaps this week is a time to pause, to reflect and in the stopping evaluate how actually we really are doing. 

I'm doing better than I was two weeks ago. I know that for sure. I'm leaning hard on God who is all the strength I need. I'm trying to avoid the things that make me overthink and doubt myself, and I'm trying to be bolder in being confident at my own abilities and giftings in all of this. I've settled into a rhythm of work and time off that works for me right now. I walk out the frustrations when it's hard. I turn off the news when it's too much. I rant when I need to and I listen to songs of peace when that is all that will do. 

Mental Health Awareness Week is a time of pause to remember that who we are and what is going on in our mind matters. The Psalmist in Psalm 139 talks about how God knows all that is going on in minds, and that matters. If we are finding it difficult right now, we can lean hard on Him, we can reach out and lean on others too, because together we can take the strain. We all need to know that we are not on our own in this. Don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it. 

Look after yourself, be gentle with yourself and with others. 

Breathe in peace and breathe it out again. 

You are far more than enough for right now.

Unshaken - Psalm 62ish

This morning I woke up singing a Noel Richards song. Noel Richards reminds me of going to Spring Harvest in Skegness as a teenager. He had a ponytail. The song was 'My confidence is in the Lord' which contains the lines 'he is my fortress I will never be shaken'.

This last weekend should have been the Baptist Assembly - when we were all going to descend on Bournemouth and be Baptists Together. It was, as many things are right now, sadly cancelled/postponed and one of the things that meant we were missing was the annual recognition of ministers moving onto the accredited list or 'the great handshake' as it might be known. The accredited ministers this year are unshaken. 

But something beautiful arose from our private facebook group for women ministers and we gathered on zoom on Sunday night to honour the sisters amongst us who should have got a handshake that weekend with our own unshaken celebration. 

Unshaken. 

I've been reflecting on that word. 

We're unshaken. Often despite, we're unshaken, we continue to stand upright. Perhaps only just at the moment and with the help of others, but we continue to stand upright. 

Noel Richards - perhaps your song is for such a moment as this. The words of the song are based on Psalm 62, so here is a little coronavirus version. 

Psalm 62 - Coronavirus Edition

I'm trying to find rest for my soul in God; 
I know that salvation comes from Him.
He is my rock and He is my salvation.
He is my fortress, the protective 2m barrier around me, 
And I will remain unshaken. 

How long will we have stay alert to this unseen killer?
Is it in the air, is it on my clothes, is it in the parcels just delivered to my door?
Surely I won't catch it, surely I won't be shaken by it, 
It appears to take delight in embracing anyone.
It's parasitic nature thrives in living things
It clings, unwilling to let me be.

I'm trying to find rest for my soul in God. 
I know that salvation comes from Him. 
He is my rock and my salvation;
He is my fortress, I remain unshaken. 
I depend on God for protection, 
He is the bricks in the walls that surround me. My hiding place. 

Trust in Him at all times, 
pour out your lockdown frustrations, grief and despair to him
For God is our hiding place.

Surely we should be all in this together?
Surely we are all cared for the same?
By God yes, but the world? 
Do not follow the example of the ones who have everything
Do not bed down and forget the ones who have nothing
Set your life to the rhythm of God's heartbeat and align it with justice. 

God is speaking. 
Are you listening? 
What's he saying?

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. 

Proper Bread

I just led by first properly live zoom communion. It's not ideal but it's what we can do right now. Because I was leading live I decided I wasn't going to have the same issues as l had the last time we did a semi live communion (the one with the youtube video made a few days before broadcast over zoom) and only be left with a choice of lasagne or cake for communion so this morning instead of going for what has nearly become traditional Sunday morning walk I'd avoid the wall of pollen outside and make bread. 

The trouble is I'd forgotten that my scales had broken yesterday so I did it by cup (how cups are an accurate way to measure I have no idea) and feel. 

I waited until we broke bread together to try it. 

But by eck, it was good. I couldn't stop eating it. 

It wasn't that it was bread, I can give or take bread which is why I normally don't have any in the house. 

It wasn't even that I'd made it - I've made enough bread now to be able to go through the motions, and to be honest I don't put effort into it as I use a dough hook in my mixer. 

It was that it was the best bread I've made in a while. Perfectly airy in the middle, crunchy on the outside, with a bit of flavour, but not so much you don't want to put a big chunk of butter on or ladle of jam. I sat through the zoom chat afterwards munching away. I sat through the playing of 'the old rugged cross' after we'd broken bread munching away. It was goooooood. 

That's enough bigging up my bread making skills...... 

Whenever I talk about food and faith I get passionate about the value of the homemade, about the value of abundance, about being generous in our feeding, about being people where the cup overflows, not slightly misses, because that is the God we worship - a generous, blessing overflowing, creator God who is about abundance not not quite enough. 

It's been hard being so passionate about the value of gathering around the table over the last few weeks, because I am eating alone, in a house on my own, with shopping I've risked my life to purchase and it's not the most fun of times. I've had a theological discussion on food and faith cancelled, which is only right, because how can I talk about the value of the table when we cannot gather?

Yet today, I was reminded of something of the goodness of God. Zoom communion is always going to be odd and slightly disappointing, but the value in trying is immense. It wasn't in that though I was reminded of the goodness of God - but it was in the bread. 

So often we use the tiny morsels of bread for communion, the one hamburger roll that has no actual bread inside so you struggle to share it amongst the congregation, the classic cubes of bread and the wafers - I will never forget the time I had to break bread as part of the communion liturgy and all I had was a tiny wafer. 

But real proper bread - it speaks better of the story - of the love and generosity and abundance of God. It smells good, it tastes good, it feels good - you feel satisfied.

While we cannot gather at a physical table and share amazing, wondrous bring and shares together (if you've never been to one of those then come to my church when we're allowed again and you will see what I mean), this meal of bread and wine, it reminds of the importance of our Christ centred community. 

The bread we break and the wine (summer fruits squash) that we drink centres us back on the story where Jesus is at the table - a story that centres on one man at a table who speaks of abundance, not frugality, of blessing, not curse, of restoration from brokenness, not the crumbs left behind....... and no more than now has our understanding of the value of table and our participation in it got to be affirmed and challenged. 

For those churches who are not able to meet around bread and wine at the moment as well as normal every day food because of theology and rule of institution, I'm sad for you, but as you eat and drink differently and make moments of agape around food, whether that's with family, on zoom, in supermarkets as you remember that everyone needs tinned tomatoes, be remembering the story that Jesus lived and told where the broken bread and shed wine speak of life in all its fullness. 

Life is grown around the table and it begins with story of Christ, who is the bread of life.

Let us celebrate that many more times over than the story of good bread (which also must be celebrated and will serve as a reminder of how much more we have than we might realise as it brings us back again to the story of Christ). 

"Jesus said, "I am the Bread of Life. The person who aligns with me hungers no more and thirsts no more, ever"           John 6:35 (The Message)