And slowly it builds
Brick by brick
That wall we all rejected
And the rhetoric filters through
The drive by threat
They're taking our jobs, our houses
Go home, you're not welcome here
Standing back we listen
We shake our fist
And we go on as it all dies down
And the rhetoric filters through
The chaos of the camps
They threaten our drivers, it's not safe
Go back, you're not welcome here
Standing back we watch
We send our cast offs
And go by as they're all moved on
And the rhetoric filters through
Bring back our control
Close the doors, put the biggest bolts on.
The door is closed, you're not welcome here
Standing back we hear
As experts cry out
And we go on as it all rolls on
And the rhetoric filters through
Our exit door is open
Now go - the entrance door is tight shut
Even you are not welcome any more
Standing back we hear cries
As blame is dished out
And those we live beside leave in fear
And slowly it builds
Brick by Brick
That wall we rejected - it's here
As we look out from the UK, we so often see what we hear is proposed to happen across the Atlantic and we despair and shout out and say that 'it wouldn't happen here'. However, as we have seen this week as voices rise up over the injustice over the Windrush deportation crisis we've got to test our own motives, test our own hearts.... and choose to stand up and stop these growing barriers before they become seemingly impenetrable and our society has lost his ability to welcome at all. This article from the Baptist Times talks about why we should be angry over the Windrush Crisis and what to do about it.
The prophet Amos says these words from God to the people of Israel, challenging their focus:
"I hate, I despise your religious festivals; and your assemblies are a stench to me..... Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. BUT let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never failing stream" Amos 5:21, 23-24
Stand up for justice. Stand up because God....
Big Ben chimes for the last time until 2021, apart from the times it will chime, today. MPs are having a special moment to mourn this terrible loss to the sound of London. The tabloids are devastated. How can this be?
This sign of stability. This sign of how things always are. This sign of how things always have been. It's going to lie silent. In mourning. It's bowing to health and safety. Why can't the people working on it's restoration live each day in fear of being struck by a swinging bell or of being deafened by its peal?
This is the end. Life as we know it will never be the same again.
We cling on and hope for a better outcome that keeps things the same as they have always been. We build a wall so the future cannot come and we barricade ourselves in, shut the doors, keep the cold out, leave the change where it should be... out there.
Last week I was on holiday in Alnwick and to get to our holiday home we had to walk up the alleyways, but one alleyway was blocked. It had this on the end:
The juxtaposition of the Road Closed sign next to the church sign (the denomination doesn't matter - take it as church) prickled my bloggage antennae as I considered what this picture says about church today. What roads have we closed so, despite the arrows pointing and despite the big buildings that stand proud in the community the bridge has been blocked, the wall has been been built, the door has been shut?
When the stability of tradition is rocked, we hold on for dear life. One barrier to change is erected.
When new arrivals in church mean we have to rearrange, move the chairs, burn the pews, move our seats, make space, we sit and sing 'we shall not be moved'. One barrier to change is erected.
When we'd like the new people to come, but not the mess it creates, we cut back, we opt out and the event planned collapses. One barrier to change is erected.
When the organ is silenced because repairs would mean no mission budget this year, we question the distribution of money, we repair the organ and we sing hymns of our own pleasing. One barrier to change is erected.
When we hear of people struggling to eat, to exist, to live, and we offer help, but only out there, not in here, avoiding mess, avoiding chaos, avoiding becoming fools like the papers say we must be. One barrier to change is erected.
When the people walk past whose identity and lifestyle challenges what we have always thought and believed we lock the doors and hide, hoping not to be challenged and to have to even contemplate a wave. One barrier to change is erected.
When we bad mouth those who are different, when we leave them in squalor, when we label them as alien, not wanted right here. One barrier to change is erected.
When we mourn the silencing of the bells and refuse to condemn blatant all out racism. One barrier to change is erected.
The signs of stability. The signs of how things always are. The signs of how things always have been. They're not there any more.
This is the end. Life as we know it will never be the same again.
And we cling on and hope for a better outcome that keeps things the same as they have always been. We build a wall so the future cannot come and we barricade ourselves in, shut the doors, keep the cold out, leave the change where it should be... out there.
But....
We need to let go, break down the barriers, let the arrows point a way that is wide open and moving....let the arrows point to the Kingdom of God.
Big Ben is still there. Big Ben hasn't gone away. We'll still hear the chimes. The tradition and the significance of that bell hasn't been negated as it is being repaired, it's being honoured.
The traditions of the church have not gone away because the ways of being church have changed. We'll still have the stories and the lessons learnt. We'll still have many of the buildings and the hymns. The traditions of the church are a beautiful thing that we can honour... but that doesn't mean we need to hold on so tight.
The barriers we put up? They're what close the road... and when that road is closed..... however many signs we put up, and arrows we point, however many fancy new initiatives we try, that road remains closed until we choose to take them down..... and if we leave it too late, there will be nothing to see.
I got the box set of Gavin and Stacey for Christmas and have watched it all this weekend (there is something quite exciting about watching a series from start to finish in a very short period of time). As well as realising that there were episodes I hadn't actually seen (my suspicions were correct - I got to the series late and have only watched it when I have spotted a repeat) it also got me thinking....
In the episode where Nessa has gone into labour and Smithy rushes from Essex to Wales to be there for the birth, when he gets to the bridge him and Gav realise they are 10p short for the toll.... much arguing with the woman on the barrier goes on, and eventually Smithy gets out, lifts the barrier and they drive off.
That barrier represents the distance between Gavin and Stacey - the difficulty in being together when they come from different places and have a different way of life. Gavin loves his home in Essex and Stacey loves her home in Wales. The barrier is symbolic of their differences, yet as these stories go, love conquers all and the barriers are overcome.
Barriers are placed to keep people out or sometimes keep people in...! They are a way of life, making us pay money, keeping the riff raff out, perhaps protecting us from harm.
As well as the physical barriers we also set up our own barriers to protect us from harm, to keep the riff raff out, to stop potential problems from happening. When we are feeling particularly vulnerable we put up barriers that don't need to be there. It means we don't have to encounter those things that we find difficult. It helps us to avoid a situation but doesn't help us deal with a situation.
Some of us live in our own little fortresses. We cut off contact from those situations we find difficult, where to face things head on it will shake our very foundations. We cling to what we know - to structures and ways of doing stuff - so hard that we create barriers that won't let anyone else in.
The trouble is, where we don't let anyone else in, or we create our own bubble of security, we miss the beauty of life. We miss the chance to interact with new people and ideas. We miss loving and getting to know the people who could make a great difference in our life. We put up our fortress and exclude and hurt those who we do not let in, those who we leave out in the cold.
Psalm 62:6 says, 'Truly he [God] is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken'.
When we create our own little fortresses of exclusion, keeping us and the ones we care about most 'safe', and keeping the riff raff out, we forget that God is our fortress. We don't need to create strong barriers, but need to acknowledge that God is the one that is the strongest fortress. Human made barriers prevent and stop, God's fortress enables us to move forward in his strength, which is stronger than any foundation that we might build in our own little fortresses. God's fortress is enabling and life changing, we need no other.
