All the Gals and the Pals and the Vals put your hands up.....

 

Galentine's Day, Palentine's Day..... invented for me to deal with the sorrow I feel about not having roses thrust on my doorstep for Valentine's Day. Galentine's Day - a day to celebrate my lady friends with chocolate for ladies and with lady activities like spas and champagne and gin. Palentine's Day - a day to hang out with my friends and have fun like only friends can and be a bit more inclusive and go beyond the ladies to the gentlemen (obviously with less pink because gentlemen prefer blue). 

And Valentine's Day? A day for those who do this kind of thing to celebrate love, for those who don't to say 'I celebrate love every day I don't need to do it for one day', and for those who don't do either to be told - don't worry about being single, you're special even though you are lacking. 

Yes this may be leaning towards a rant. Moving away from the whole thing about St Valentine turning in his grave because of what Valentine's has become, and moving away from the fact that he has been misrepresented for what he has done. Ignoring the fact he is also the saint of (not) fainting and the plague (appropriate in 2022). Imagining that his legacy is one of love and romance, I'd like to ask one thing.... 

Don't use this day to try and make that weird tribe of singletons feel better about being single. 

Because being single doesn't mean lacking. You should never assume that someone who is single is going to be sad and lonely when everyone else is loved up. 

Because one person's being single is different to another. You may have been single in the past and you may have found valentines day difficult, but that doesn't mean that you have to focus all of your valentines energy on making sure everyone else is OK. Sink into where you are, don't try and sink in to where you were. 

Because by drawing attention to singleness on a day that's commercialised to celebrate romantic love only makes the frustrations of singleness more clear. I was OK until people told me I shouldn't be but I'd be OK because I'm loved. 

The thing is, even on Valentine's Day when I don't get red roses or anonymous cards, I know I am loved. I know that I am not alone. I know that I am valued and the way I am is more than OK. I don't need a 'there there' stroke or a meme or a special gal pal celebration to remind me that I'm loved and noticed, because I'd prefer to get on with my day. 

Shane Claiborne described St Valentine on his facebook page today as 'a war resister and a revolutionary for love'. 

I'd go with that. Perhaps the attention that we're putting on making sure we get the right number of roses or making sure that our single gal pals are not left out even though they never felt that way in the first place would be better focussed on being a revolutionary for love. 

A revolutionary love recognises that we are all are interconnected - that one persons actions always affects another. Revolutionary love is where we choose to love our enemies as well as our friends. Revolutionary love is caring about justice for all, and not just for us. Revolutionary love goes beyond 'are you ok hun' to changing the world for the better, starting from where we are. 

Revolutionary love is in the story of St Valentine when he is said to have prayed for his captor's daughter who was blind and she then could see. 

Revolutionary love is in victory and restoration, not in warfare or power grabbing, or smooching and smoothing, but in the stretching out of the arms of God on the cross, a declaration that love wins, that love conquers over all.

So gather your Gals and your Pals and your Vals..... on whatever day it is today, and know that the love you are given is far more than anything that others might assume you are lacking, and give it away with abundance. 

Today of all days, may you be known by love. 

Broken Windows

 

Yesterday I was walking to the tram stop and I decided to go right rather than left at the end of my road. Habit means I normally catch the tram at one stop, even though another is about the same distance away. I remembered why when I got there - the stop I normally catch from is the end of the line and the trams often wait there, so there is always someone to sit. 

Anyway. As I got to the non-usual tram stop it was clear someone has had a little bit of frustration or anger at that tram stop because all the windows were smashed. It has clearly happened recently because the glass was still on the ground and in where the windows would be there were webs of smashed glass trying to hold themselves up and continue to be all they were made to be. 

The sun was shining and the glass glistened and whilst I was waiting for the tram I thought I'd take some photos through the broken glass. A spiders web of cracks did not obscure what was beyond, but it drew attention from the view ahead. 

For me, the start of 2022 has been like one of those old cars with a manual choke. If it was cold or you weren't used to the eccentricities of the car, it was difficult to get going. It took a lot of effort. Whilst stuff around me has been going well, me, not so much. 

And I've been trying to work out why. Why can't I just step boldly into a new year? Why am I hanging onto stuff I don't know what it is yet? Why am I really quite grumpy and my head a bit kerfuddled? Why is my mental health a bit shakey? Why can't I grab onto the good stuff happening right now and be excited and run with it? It's a relief, in many ways, to know its not just me - many of my colleagues in ministry are struggling just the same. 

As I played with the photo of the broken glass and posted it on the instagram because it was pretty, I reflected on the blurriness of the picture beyond the lines of brokenness when the focus of the lens of the camera is on the cracks in the glass. The picture beyond looks fresh, looks good - the green of the grass looks welcoming and new...... but to get to the beyond, something needs to be done with the glass. 

At the beginning of the pandemic in March 2020, it was like someone came along with a massive sledgehammer and smashed down the clear window that was giving clarity ahead. In the webs of glass remaining, in the smashed shards on the floor were questions and frustrations and unknowing and pain, and in dealing with all of those things, the web of brokenness has continued to remain. 

Every bit of brokenness changes our view, and whilst the learning and beauty from that brokenness helps us walk into the next, the shattered glass - it leaves scars, it leaves stuff that needs to be cleared up. 

Whenever someone has taken a sledgehammer to something, the clearing up takes longer than it took to make a mess. The pieces of the broken, the dust it leaves - it's found for a long time afterwards. Even when a new window is put in, the reasons for the breaking - they won't have gone away. 

At the beginning of this year, that sledge hammer smashing is too close to have healed all the stuff that has gone on. The scars are still weeping, the view - it's still blurred - the focus keeps switching to bringing peace to what's gone. 

As we step into the future, there is healing to be done. 

I don't know why all that has happened has happened. I don't know why things are such a mess. I don't know why someone wanted to smash up that bus stop. I don't really know why the shattered glass is distracting me. I don't know why all is a challenge right now....

I do know however, that God is a God of healing. I do know that he is the God who restores. I do know that on the cross that though all was broken, in that brokenness all was healed. I do know that that means the focus of the lens of the camera will eventually be skewed towards the hopeful view beyond.... 

And I do know that whilst the focus is on the shattered glass, that the Holy Spirit brings peace and gently applies healing balm - in the stinging, in the soothing, in the levelling, in the making...... that view beyond. It will come. 

New Year reminder

 I drove home from the Shire today, which was fine - quite straight forward really - until the end when I was driving down the Lanes (the sign that home is just a few bends away) and there we stopped as two cars (or maybe three) emptied their occupants to discuss the little bang that had happened. They were OK, I'm sure.

Next to me was the entrance to a farm, which made turning around easier and so I started off on another way. Thankfully I had google maps on (just in case another way is better than the way I know) which, when it had pulled itself together (which took a little while) could find me an alternative way home. It sent me down an unsuitable for HGVs lane, which was OK because there was no one coming the other direction, and I popped out of the top onto a familiar road just past the accident which could take me home. 

It was once I got on the familiar road that I realised my eyes were sore. I had been concentrating so hard on driving through the unknown that I forgot the thing I needed to do to help me see the way ahead. I was ready for what was right in front of me, but wasn't ready for the longer journey through all the bends ahead. I'd forgotten to blink. Driving in London is often a bit like that. It's like one of those hazard perception tests where concentration is key and any moment of missing the hazard may involve heavy braking or a loud beep from outside. Blinking is a distraction in that moment.

However, blinking is necessary. It's normally an automatic response to dry eyes or dirt or to some sort of external stimulus. It gets your eyelashes to work, batting away the irritants before they get stuck in the eye. When you are focussed on one thing (like the road ahead), your blink rate decreases, which is why your eyes get dry. 

As we come to the end of a full year of pandemic, the road continues to feel unfamiliar. When we thought we had got back on the right road, another variant, another set of rapidly rising cases, another load of covid stuff has been dumped on the tarmac before us. Finding our way takes concentration, more decision making, and a need to embrace the unfamiliar route ahead without the google maps that we hope to rely on. No decision feels like the right decision, uncertainty is rife and things feel quite a lot on edge. 

It's at times like these we need to not forget to blink. We cannot continue down an unfamiliar road without blinking, because the dryness of our eyes will get too much and we won't be able to see anything beyond the right now anymore. It is in seeing beyond the right now that we are able to keep going. If we cannot see, we are in danger of just stopping. Blinking is self care. Blinking is nourishing. Blinking is life giving. Blinking brings hope.

As we enter another year down this uncertain road, we hope for better. We hope that next year will end better than the last. And..... as we continue to drive down an unfamiliar route, don't forget to blink. The phrase 'blink and you'll miss it' is not the one for this year - sometimes we might want to blink so we do miss it, because we don't need all the information being thrown in our faces anymore. We need to blink for nourishment, blink for hydration, blink so our eyes continue to work to see where we are going. 

Our blinks are necessary pauses, they are counts to 10 before we react, and they are the moments of joy we seek out in the mess. Our blinks are the times we set aside to stop and look either side of the hazard to the beauty beyond, the times we set aside to read and pray and the moments with wise ones who point out the signpost we didn't see ahead. 

Those blinks will help us see the way to an easier road ahead.  

"You Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. With your help I can advance against a troop, with my God I can scale a wall"  Psalm 18:28-29

You Lord, keep my vision clear; my God helps me to see by bringing light. With your help I can navigate the unfamiliar road, with my God I can continue to walk on. 

Don't forget to blink

Those jumpers..... (not) #teambelieve

 
I was stood on some stairs outside the toilets admiring a friend's Christmas jumper. It was a bit different - it could be not a Christmas jumper and a festive season to new year to whatever comes next wear (in fact it didn't to me look too Christmassy at all - not like my jumper which says Christmas on so you know what it is). It said 'believe' on the front. Believe what? Well, it could be a conversation opener. I don't know who designed it but I wonder what they were thinking should be believed - believe in Santa? Believe in better? Believe in yourself? Believe in miracles.....? 

Believe in the good news of Christmas perhaps. Definitely telling you to believe in something. Ordering you to believe in whatever it is, perhaps, if you take it a step further. Perhaps it should be a question rather than just a word......

We live in a world that wants something to believe in - there is a massive identity crisis, we are told we can be anyone we want to be. There are a plethora of labels and words - confusing, befuddling - they need a dictionary in themselves for interpretation..... 

Believe tells us that there is something worth putting our faith in - that we can find an identity. I have no problem with that. As a Christian, clearly, I believe. 

So, whilst I get the whole premise of a believe jumper and why people might love it, I didn't want to get one because I'm not a fan of M&S clothes. I also struggle with large writing across the chest. But that's for other reasons altogether (the jumper I'm wearing is a big baggy mansize jumper so it's all OK). 

But then, as time has gone by, I've found the jumper making me a little bit angry. 

It's not the jumper as such, but the message around it. It started with a few Anglican vicars taking a photo of themselves wearing it and their dog collar and putting it on social media with #teambelieve. Then other denominations and movements of churches carried the whole thing forward. Out there beyond my window are many women vicars, ministers, pastors, normal people wearing this (apparently very soft and wearable) jumper. 

So why is it making me a little bit angry and irritated....? 

Well at first when I saw the newspaper article, my inner rebel took hold. I am Baptist both by conviction and personality. Baptists are dissenters, non-conformists, most see no need for uniforms or dog collars - if everyone in the room was wearing black shoes, I'd be the one wearing sparkly ones. I don't want to be like everyone else. Whilst I looked at the jumper, I was very happy with my own jumper (which thankfully, no one else I know seems to have wanted) and the conversation that jumper starts (what's feminist about a jumper?). As Baptists should we be conforming to the pattern of the C of E world? It's not in our make up. 

And then, as more and more Baptists got the jumper, it felt like I was being pushed out. If you don't believe in the believe jumper do you not belong? My inner 'I'm not welcome here' came out. The peer pressure was rife. So I did have a little look in M&S, realised how much it cost, realised, as is normal for M&S, getting a size that would fit me in a store was almost impossible, and I promptly walked out again. Sixty seconds of nearly succumbing. Thankfully my reasons for not loving M&S (apart from the food section) stopped me from making a decision I would regret 10 minutes later. Our need to belong is huge - but can a jumper ever say we belong? We can brand anything, but it's what is happening on the ground that really matters. 

And that comes to my third reason. It's the same reason that makes me feel on the edge at many a gathering. As someone who doesn't fit in and is OK with that, there is always a pull to conform, and for my community that is sat on the edge of London, often feeling left out and unable to fit in, it says something else - it says something about an inner circle - a clique, where only a jumper or a certain theology or a way of going about life is 'normal' - we're not going to ever conform, however hard we try. If the call to belong is a call to conform, then we're never going to be part of the montage. 

I'm not (although it may seem that way, I understand) being judgmental about this - I am in fact judging myself, because I am trying to understand why this is making me so angry - I could blame Covid, which has heightened my emotions just now, or tiredness which does the same.... but..... I also wanted a little rant.... and to say - that it's not a jumper for everyone, and also not a team for us all, and that's OK. It really is OK. 

In the image of God we are created, in community where each one belongs, where the jumper you wear shouldn't matter, or the shoes or the badge or the socks. There is a place of belonging for us all - misfits and conformists, the ones on the edge and the ones in the centre, the ones with and the ones without..... God breathes his breath over us all. 

Flipping jumpers.... 

Be still, my soul

"Be still, my soul; your God will undertake

to guide the future as he has the past;

your hope, your confidence, let nothing shake;

all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know

his voice who ruled them while he lived below".

How do we find stillness in the storm, in the waves and waves of bad news?

How do we find stillness when fear of what's coming overwhelms, where words like tsunami lead our eyes to the horizon dreading the next?

How do we find stillness when our normal winter symptoms make us suspect the worst?

How do we find stillness when the cycle through hope and then fear doesn't stop spinning?

Be still my soul; your God will hold you tight

to lead you through the next as he led you through the last

Your hope, your confidence, it won't shake forever

the uncertainty of fear will become peace again

Be still, my soul; the storm clouds hovering know

his voice, that rules, that sings, that heals - leads on.

In the storm, turn away from the chasing, look away from the news, the briefings, the fountain of information - just for a moment.

And breathe.

Count to 10.

Peace in, peace out.

Look around.

For even in the storm there are hopeful things.

Even in the storm there is calm.

Even in the storm there is a safe place.

In the storm, light shines out bright and guides us home

In the storm, a star settles over an ordinary place.

Our God of peace is here.

Waiting to Belong

Standing in line in the tennis courts as the teams were being picked for whatever sport it was we were playing that day. The team captains were girls I kind of knew but hadn't really spoken to. I was, in fact, a little bit intimidated by them. 

I watched as they picked their teams. Name after name until there were just a few of us left. The numbers went down to four, three, two,.... and then just me. The reluctant team captain calling me over. My place, I knew, would be at the back somewhere. 

Standing on the edge of the crowd of people who seemed to know each other, I watched as body language changed and welcome was given. Not wanting to disturb the happy chatter I stood in my own world, waiting for the main meeting to begin, kind of happy to sit on the edge and not have to engage, but feeling a bit out of it. 

At the end of that conference, we sent round a piece of paper asking for nice comments and words about the person's name at the top. "Friendly" said the pens of those who had said hello in passing. "Thanks for being there when there was no-one else to talk to" said the one who was trying a little harder to be nice.... but put me in last place again. 

Have you ever felt you don't belong?

The story of the nativity is one of not belonging - of being picked last. When Jesus was born he wasn't given the best room in the house, but a room was reluctantly found for him in the place where the animals were likely kept. It wasn't ideal, it wasn't the place for a baby to be born, never mind a King..... when Jesus moved into the neighbourhood, he arrived in last place. Although people knew of the promised Messiah - that baby - apart from for a few, it wouldn't have mattered if he was there or not. 

Yet it mattered more than anyone knew. 

As nativity stories are acted out each year, there's that knock at the door as the innkeepers say, one after the other 'there's no room'. 

As we see the yet to be born Messiah left out in the cold, those who feel they never belong find a place that they can always belong, because in the story of the closing of the doors, we find the one who understands, the one who stands on the side-lines, gathering in.....

Before you even knock at the door, it is already flung wide open and the voice of the one born in that room round the back says.....

"There is a place for you here, how about it?" 

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. Luke 2:6-7

 

Waiting for the waiting to end

 

The difficult thing about waiting is that waiting means waiting. 

Obvious, yes?

Well, yes, but it doesn't make it less frustrating/annoying/difficult/insert your own term here. 

We want things immediately. 

I really want the pandemic to be over now. 

I really want things to get easier now. 

I really want to not have to wait for the late person to turn up. 

I really want to get on with living life now. 

I really want to know the results now. 

I really want my friends suffering from long covid to find 'normal' life again

I really want to...... 

I really want everything to be made right now. I want poverty, sickness, pain, death to be no more. It is promised.... but it's not here yet. 

In our advent waiting the waiting is often hard. 

As Mary waits for the baby, I wonder what was going through her head. She visits Elizabeth, whose baby jumps for joy when he recognises who the baby is Mary is carrying and Mary sings a song of all the great things her baby will do, and then..... 

Waiting. 

She stays with Elizabeth for three months before she goes home, but then there is still more waiting to do. 

And, the words of that song, they haven't all been realised yet. 

We still live in a world where the wrong people are in power, where corruption continues, where hunger and poverty is an ongoing problem, where things getting better seem so far away. 

God's Kingdom has come, but it's also still coming. 

As the pandemic recovery seems to have hit a roadblock, we are reminded of how fragile things still are. And as we wait this one out to see what happens next, all we can do is try and stay safe and keep on praying. 

Because the waiting will end, we just might need to stay where we are for a while. 

And Mary said

My soul glorifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God my saviour,

for he has been mindful 

of the humble state of his servant

And we say

My soul glorifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God my saviour

Because he knows how frustrating the wait is

and he promises us better ahead

His mercy extends to those fear him

Just like to Mary, it does to us today

He has performed mighty deeds in the past

and he will perform mighty deeds in the future

He will overthrow those who are centred on themselves

He will bring down the rulers who are addicted to power

He will lift up those who feel like they are at the bottom of the pile

He will fill those who are hungry with all the good food (and in fact they will be hungry no more)

He will not let the rich hoard everything

He will bring the waiting to an end

And the future? Just you wait and see. 

He will bring glorious things. 

Image from pixahive