Endings and beginnings

Signs of new life are all around.
And today there's even some sunshine!

Today as I was sitting at my laptop writing my final sermon to be preached tomorrow in my curacy parish, I received an email with the rota for the services in my new one.
It feels odd.
The format is different.
The service pattern is different. 
The other names on it are different (although it really helps that there's a good friend already there - for a while at least) 

It's concrete (or at least paper) evidence of the change that lies before me.

I have long prayed for this change. A new role that allowed my children to stay at their school at least until after public exam courses are over. A context completely different to the one in which I served my title - I'm moving to a much more affluent parish, to churches with large congregations and a growing staff team. A job that will allow me to study and perhaps teach. But having the paper evidence of this change in front of me somehow makes it more real and simultaneously scary and exciting.

There are a lot of challenges in the weeks ahead. Uncertainty over when we might move house is the main one. Reading, thinking and exploring various opportunities for further study is another. I feel like I'm entering into a time of uncertainty, although it seems that much is already settled.

As I was preparing for tomorrow's sermon, I came across some words of Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy, who is one of the three people remembered by the Church of England's lectionary today.

“We have taught our people to use prayer too much as a means of comfort – not in the original and heroic sense of uplifting, inspiring, strengthening, but in the more modern and baser sense of soothing sorrow, dulling pain, and drying tears – the comfort of the cushion, not the comfort of the Cross.”

I wonder if I've been thinking more in terms of the comfortable, cushioned road ahead (in spite of previous experience telling me that it is always anything but) instead of the way of the cross. I need reminding that a comfortable life with everything settled is not what Jesus promised his disciples. Change and uncertainty are part of the package. Learning to deal with that will be part of my discipline for Lent.

Questions, questions

Sometimes you plan something that you're a little wary of. Sometimes you wonder if it's really going to work. Sometimes you wonder at the last minute whether you really shouldn't change your mind and forget it altogether.

Today was a bit like that.
I was preaching in one of our churches - a small congregation, mostly elderly and mostly those who have worshipped in the church for many years. They are lovely people but concerned about the future of the church, and unsure where to begin to look for growth. Like many of us. they sometimes they don't like new things, and sometimes surprising them with something unusual doesn't work. So what I planned for my sermon today was a little risky and I nearly didn't do it. But I'm so glad I did.

Today's Gospel passage was Mark 9:30-37, and in these short verses there were many things I could have preached on. I even found my sermon from three years ago, preached in a very different setting and I enjoyed reading it - but it did not address the thing that was really standing out for me this week.
"They [Jesus' disciples] did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him." (Mark 9:32 NRSV)

I don't always use the internet for sermon preparation but when I do I often visit Working Preacher where the commentaries can be helpful (or, as is the case with most commentaries, unhelpful!) I was struck by one of the suggestions on there which was to get the congregation to be braver than Jesus' first disciples and ask him a question. So I handed out slips of paper and pens at the beginning of the service, and then preached on the importance of a questioning faith - a faith which seeks answers from God and trusts that He is big enough to take our questions in his stride. The I asked the congregation to write an anonymous question for Jesus on the slip of paper. The questions were collected
 in the offertory as a sign that as we bring our gifts in faith we also bring our questions to Jesus' table.

After the service I took the questions home and sat at my desk to read them.

I cried.

I hadn't realised until I read them what a gift I was asking them to give. I was unprepared for their honesty, puzzlement, pain and insight, and for my own reaction to that.  They range from the practical to the intellectual, and I felt humbled to be reading them. I wish I had easy answers, or indeed any answers for them. But I think that above all Jesus wants us to ask questions of him - about life as his followers - and that in asking the questions we are able to begin to live the answer.
I'd love to know, and offer a hug and reassurance to the person who asked how what they did was important. I'd love to talk further with the person what asked why they found it so difficult to ask Jesus a question. I rage with the people who are dismayed and angry about suffering in the world and current levels of violence over matters of faith.

And I will. Perhaps not directly but this has given me such an insight into God's precious people in that church and their concerns that I hope we will address at least some of them in preaching to come, and as we discuss a possible year of mission for our 80th birthday.

I am hugely grateful for the promptings of the Spirit who I'm sure gave me the courage to see my slightly mad idea through, and to the congregation who have trusted me enough to share what's on their minds and hearts before God.
So, what question would you ask?

A Chaos scale

I've been thinking about defining a chaos scale. Kind of like the Richter scale for earthquakes or the Beaufort scale for wind.

Last week in particular was very busy. With my training incumbent away, the phone calls to the vicarage come through to me, and last week it was very busy on the phone. It seems that now spring is here, thoughts of many people around here are turning to Baptisms, and it was my smart idea to suggest that clergy visit soon after an initial Baptism enquiry is made (along the lines of the Weddings Project suggestion for weddings) Previously, the office took the booking but we may not visit the family for many months depending on how far in advance the Baptism was booked.
This week, I've done five visits.
That registers highly on the chaos scale as it eats into other time I may have available for preparation for other things. But it's all about building good relationships and I really enjoy it.

Some fruits of this approach were evident at yesterday's family service. We had over 60 people in church - around two dozen children, and there were three families there who have recently started coming regularly following the Baptism of their children.
The service itself registered quite high on the chaos scale - with all those children around, there's a certainly inevitablility to that. But they were mostly engaged and had plenty to do in the service which seemed to help. The giving of Communion was less ordered than usual but no-one seemed to mind, and I was really pleased that a Banns family came to the altar for a blessing as they prepare for their wedding in a few weeks. There was a lovely atmosphere and we are blessed with having the kind of old(er) ladies who really like having a lively service for families and not the kind I have met elsewhere who might otherwise complain.....

So if my scale of chaos is to reflect anything, it will probably reflect when I have time to blog. Infrequently just now, but I hope to redress that this week, which, at the moment has (deliberately) fewer appointments and (fortuitously) no sermon to preach on Sunday.

I'll keep thinking about how I'd like to express my chaos scale, but feel free to make suggestions!

Although it has been busy, I did want to share some moments where I felt the chaos was particularly hallowed. For God is there to be found anywhere anyone chooses to look.

A fantastic concert by my son's school...... a lovely Communion in a sheltered housing complex...... a very moving hospital visit with a man with dementia - as he struggled to remember his wife's death, and wept for her, he paused and uttered a prayer from his heart, "Lord, help me!".......... some laughs with the Cubs as they talked about objects in the church...... praying with a dying man..... the peace of the 8 o'clock Communion service on Sunday.

So, tired but blessed, I continue to embrace such hallowed chaos.


Image of Richter scale via http://mishunderstanding.wordpress.com/2011/01/23/what-is-the-richter-scale/

Women's World Day of Prayer

Well, I was going to blog about this but my friend Revd Claire got there first and has said much of what  I wanted to say. So, check it out!
Today's service was prepared by the women of Malaysia and had as it's theme "Let Justice Prevail."

I remember this service from when I was a child, and little seems to have changed. As an act of worship, I'm afraid I still find it wordy, and bitty, with too many elements.
But I think it's more the fact that it only appeals to a small section of our congregation, that concerns me. It is actively avoided by men (at least where I am - I was ridiculed for suggesting in a magazine article that the service should be attended by men as well as women) Why should something as important as praying for justice to prevail not be a concern to all of humanity, not just half of us? It still feels slightly (and I could be wrong) as if the women are being allowed to go and have their little service while the men do other, more important stuff.
That's not to say that I don't see the value of a group of women getting together to achieve something. I was a Guider for many years so firmly believe that there is a place for women-only spaces. I'm just not sure that this is one that I particularly feel comfortable in.

Having said all that, there were some really positive moments today- and here's a picture of some of the props that were made - these lovely butterflies to remind us of the colours of Malaysia.
I also love the thought that as our service finished, another one somewhere in the world was just beginning, and that we took up where someone else left off.
And I had a great conversation with a Roman Catholic lady who is in favour of the ordination of women and who was a bit upset by the arrival in the RC church of former Anglicans in the Ordinariate.

So, perhaps as an act of female solidarity, it's worth retaining, but perhaps also the ultimate goal should be that eventually the whole of God's people would recognise that issues that affect women require all of God's people to pray and act - not just the female half.
Claire feels ambivalent about this - and so do I. You?

Our children are our teachers

My favourite type of chaos again this morning. Today's family service involved pancake-making, alleluia-imprisoning, lots of Cubs, Brownies and a couple of runaway toddlers. There were also hymns, prayers and Communion. I think the church comes alive when we worship together in this service. Today we had three recently-joined Baptism families with us, and a good sprinkling of students from the nearby halls of residence.
Somehow, in the midst of the noise, distractions, and fun, God was present in a powerful way, drawing everyone present into His love.
The children gather round the altar as we celebrate Communion and the image of one three-year-old boy's face as he watched, rapt, as the President took bread and wine, blessed, broke and shared them will stay in my memory for a long time.
"Let the children come to me; do not try to stop them, for the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Whoever does not accept the Kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." (Mark 10:14-16)

That boy taught me lot about how I might better accept the Kingdom of God today.

18 000 mile curacy service

This week we had an interesting day of IME (Initial Ministerial Education) training. This is what the Diocese provides to those who have been ordained and are curates in a parish. It can be difficult or it can be quite fun. Today I wasn't sure what to expect as both curates and training incumbents were asked to draw a picture of the curacy so far.
Here is mine:

As you can see, I never won art prizes at school. But I'm the one on the diving board, juggling the items in blue at the top of the page. My family are closest to the pool, cheering me on but also looking at the clock. My Training Incumbent (TI) is the red squiggle at the steps acting as coach - being close beside me but ultimately unable to do things for me. There's an audience, signifying the public nature of the job, and a panel of judges, signifying its accountability. The diving board has an end. sometimes I feel like I can dive off, other times like I want to go back from whence I came. God is the board, but also the pool which is deliberately only bounded on three sides.

I confess I had been a bit sceptical about this exercise but found it quite revealing and affirming. My TI had drawn a positive image of growth and development, and commented that my picture wasn't as confident as I often seem. I can certainly talk a good game, but on the inside it's a different matter.
So far, so good, I think is probably the headline.

Whether I'll want to dive off the end of that board and whether I'll belly flop if I do, is another matter altogether.

Sunday Chaos

My favourite Sunday in the month! Our monthly Family service with uniformed organisations and some people who regularly come to this service only. I enjoy having responsibility for this service but it quite often feels like a lot of work. This Sunday we reflected on "Following Jesus" with the calling of Philip and Nathanael from John 1.
We had some of the children dressed up at Saints supporters and talked about following a football club (about which I know very little but thankfully they helped me out) and what it might look like to follow Jesus.
I love having the children at the Communion table as I celebrate and I particularly enjoy using one of the Church of England's new additional Eucharistic prayers for use with children where children ask three questions during the prayer, echoing the significance of the children in the Seder meal.
The chaos factor was mild-moderate and we still have to find the best place for the choir as we don't want them in front of the Children's Corner, but overall I had lots of positive feedback, which was great as it didn't come easily in the planning. God honours our chaos, when we offer it to him in worship, and I think the congregation secretly like a bit of hallowed chaos too, judging from the buzz afterwards.

And to show that I'm not completely chaotic, the meeting to plan next month's service is tonight!

The best kind of chaos...

This morning I had the best kind of chaos in church. 90 children from the local school came to learn about the Christian sacred text and how it is used in worship. So,cue some stories fom the Bible, chatting about Word and Sacrament in worship, showing the font, chalice, paten,  and making a Gospel procession.
The school has many pupils from difficult family backgrounds, but they were all fantastic. Curious, engaged, respectful, enthusiastic, and with lots of great questions: "Why was Jesus killed?", "Why is Jesus so special?", "What is your favourite Bible story?"

It's at times like that when I feel most alive and in tune with my vocation. I went home (pretty tired) to recover and to deal with another kind of chaos - the kind I like least - my desk and study.....