TARDIS Tents

Back home again, after a week away at New Wine North, punctuated by three days at my Bishops' Advisory Panel.

Newark Showground was partially flooded, so the carefully planned-out allocation of sites for churches from across the north was somewhat revised, in order to fit all the tents on less than all the space...the result was that our (relatively dry) zone looked like a refugee camp (as opposed to some zones, that looked like paddy fields). With space at a premium, it's as well we had TARDIS tents. Check out the outside and inside shots, above.

Ritual Cleansing?

I came across this today. Someone on our street is obviously having a new bathroom suite installed, and the old one had been ripped out and temporarily left out the front of the house. I particularly like that they left the soap in the basin...

Colour | Style

While I was out at blah, Jo was out at the launch party for two friends of ours who have established a colour and style consultancy. Here are some thoughts expressing why I think this is a wonderful example of incarnational Christian living; and not ‘too incarnational,’ in the sense of ‘indistinguishable from those around us who do not know God; no longer salt and light.’

When God created us, he paid attention to detail, choosing skin tone and eye and hair colour and body shape for each one of us, generating unique combinations from a set number of variables. When, in how we clothe our bodies, we make use of colours and styles that complement our God-given physical nature, a created being gives honour to its Creator. (And, conversely, when we fail to recognise our physical created-ness, we dishonour our Creator.)

When Jesus tells his disciples not to worry about what they will wear, as those who do not know God do, his point is not that what we wear is not important, but that God knows that it is important and he will provide for us.

When Paul writes concerning what women should or should not wear, it seems to me, his points are that Christian women should not dress in ways that would suggest, within the indicators of their culture, that they were prostitutes; or locate their sense of beauty in externals; and not that they should pay no attention to how they dress. (The same principles apply to men.)

What we wear speaks volumes about how we feel about ourselves. When we dress in such a way as to indicate that we do not believe that we are worthy to be anything other than slaves in our Father’s household, I believe this grieves the prodigal Father, who runs out to meet us coming to him with that attitude, and – disregarding it – places a fine robe around our shoulders.

Hudson Taylor encouraged his missionaries to dress as the Chinese, rather than in western clothes, so that how they presented themselves should not be a stumbling block to the gospel. Such an attitude was revolutionary within overseas mission in his day; and waits to be revolutionary in mission on our own doorstep today. When we present ourselves well, we are, quite simply, more approachable.

Specifically concerning our friends’ business, even in the setting-up of it, it has opened doors to lots of relationships, spiralling out from the school playground; and given rise to conversations about self-image, with opportunity to speak of how God sees us, as his beloved children.

This is not ‘Prosperity Gospel’: it is perfectly possible to dress well on a budget, even a tight budget, and with a limited wardrobe (and perfectly possible to run up massive credit card debt on ill-informed choices and look terrible as a result).

This is not ‘buying into’ worldly constructs concerning image, which hold people in bondage to the almighty Market. Rather, it is prophetically speaking freedom to those held captive by such concerns; and restoring the Creator’s rightful place, usurped by the Market.

It is true that at the point where you are first learning which colours/styles complement how God has created you the process can seem to take up a disproportionate and even inappropriate amount of time and focus. But that is true of learning anything. We don’t think that the time and focus needed to learn to drive is inappropriate, taking our thoughts away from God, or witnessing to others (indeed, we may even think in terms of the opportunities for the gospel that might open up through being able to drive, if we are so inclined). Once we are confident, we become unconsciously competent.


I pray that my friends’ venture will flourish, as a tree of healing whose roots go down to a spring of life.


colour , style , incarnational Christianity , spirituality, mission , missional church

Incarnational Peregrini

It was good to have Mark Berry over in Sheffield again yesterday evening. He was at the Sheffield blah, talking about pilgrimage. Thanks for taking the time to come over!

It seems to me that the idea of pilgrimage has fallen out of favour among evangelicals: that it is frowned upon for being either too Catholic or ‘baptised paganism’ [= syncretism = sub-Christian; as opposed to = ‘redeemed, or transformed, culture’…]. Instead, in very recent times, we’ve embraced ‘going on retreat,’ though even that sits uneasily with evangelical activism. One could also argue that pilgrimage was re-invented, at an earlier point, as attending annual Christian conferences. But I say ‘fallen out of favour’ because when I were a lad – which is not too very long ago – one of the Approved Books of evangelicalism was John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, so the idea of pilgrimage, at least as metaphor for spiritual life as journey, is not entirely alien. Within pilgrimage, both literal and metaphorical (and in contrast to retreats, or conferences), the journey is at least as important as the arrival, if not more so.

Anyway, Mark shared some thoughts on pilgrimage, as historical activity (both within and far wider than Christianity), in contemporary form, and as metaphor for life. And it was good.

The thing that struck me most was that he talked both about peregrini and about incarnational Christianity. Whereas there is the expression of pilgrimage which is to make a journey to a particular site (e.g. Stonehenge; Mecca; Lourdes; Walsingham) or along a particular route (e.g. the way to Santiago de Compostella; Canterbury), there is also that tradition where pilgrims set out from home, not knowing where they would end up, or if they would ever see their home again (e.g. the Celtic monks who set sail across the Atlantic, those who survived reaching, among other places, Newfoundland). These ‘peregrini’ literally belonged no-where. In contrast, the idea of incarnational Christianity as it is frequently discussed at present tends to focus on being grounded in a particular culture: focuses more on the fact that Jesus was embedded as a first-century Jew, than on his having no-where to lay his head.

So the question that Mark’s thoughts provoked for me was, how can we be – paradoxically – incarnational peregrini? What does it mean to be grounded within early C21st western culture, while at the same time not having a place to settle? How does being incarnational peregrini help us to be ‘in the world, but not of the world’?

The answer that came to me as I walked home, and talking with Jo when I got there, was that being incarnational peregrini means choosing to embrace the culture in which God has placed us, while choosing to reject the trappings of security that culture places its hope in (those things that put distance between us and poverty, or disease – that make us ‘of the world, but not in it’). For us personally as a family, that is the life we have lived since we sold our house and I left a secure job back in 2005, and we flew to Australia for three months, not knowing what lay beyond, but knowing who lay beyond, and coming to know that that was enough for us. (I’m not saying that home ownership or stable jobs are wrong per se; but while all Christians are called to be incarnational, perhaps we’re not all called to be peregrini.)

Anyway, thanks again to Mark for provoking our thinking, and to the blah crew for hosting the event – it was great to catch up with so many of you.


Mark Berry , Sheffield blah , pilgrimage , spirituality, perigrini , incarnational Christianity

Too Christ-like?

It is great to have Andrew Hamilton back blogging. You’ve been missed, mate. This post, borrowing from Matt Stone [a really helpful little diagram], is worth a look. Hamo’s reflections certainly resonate with my own.


Hamo returns , incarnational Christianity , mission , spirituality, church

Things To Satisfy Curiosity

Today, in the park, after school with my children, I received a complaint – frightfully polite, and very good-natured; but a complaint nonetheless – that it had been over a week since I had posted on my blog. Heaven forbid that I should fail to entertain my (numerically small but demanding) readership!

Elijah took his first steps on Saturday. Woo-hoo! And today, he had his first haircut – the Mohican has been scalped…for now.

I finished working as a disability support worker last Thursday evening; came home, ate my tea, and went out again to meet up with some other members of The Order of Mission – by which time it had completely escaped my mind that I’d just left my job of sixteen months. I don’t think it was a Senior Moment; or that I didn’t care about those I had been supporting; but that it was so very definitely time to move on. Job done. I’m sure that I will take with me transferable experience, but you can only do a role you are doing for meaningful experience, rather than out of your heart’s desire, for so long. I feel like Joseph, released from prison and being made respectable to appear before Pharaoh, his future held in the balance…

I have four more lunchtimes left at school, and then I will be done there too. And that has been a team that I will miss working with: it has been a lot of fun. I know that my working for the school has made a positive difference – not least because there is only one male member of staff, the estates manager – and been appreciated by the people I have been working with. That counts for a lot. The extent of interest in our plans, by staff and by parents in the playground alike, has been touching.

Over the past year-and-a-half I have done low-paid, low-skilled, jobs; almost entirely alongside women; including work with and for people with little education, (seemingly) limited prospects, few aspirations, near horizons. It has been a cross-cultural learning experience. If they do allow this highly-educated middle-class boy to serve as a priest here in South Yorkshire, it will prove invaluable; though I may not always have realised that at the time.

A week today I will be at my Bishops’ Advisory Panel. On the basis of how I fare in a range of exercises over two-and-a-half days; alongside a raft of paperwork submitted by myself, my referees, and the Diocese in advance; a panel of four men and women will decide whether or not to recommend me for ordination. And by early August, we will finally have a decision…

We’d hoped to be at this stage some months ago – while I passionately believe this is God’s call on my life, I can’t presume that the panel will agree; and we’d hoped to have time to find something longer-term by September if they say ‘no’ – but it didn’t work out that way in the end. In the end, it worked out that I’d be at selection conference while the rest of the family were at New Wine North (indeed, I’ll be there each side of my panel), with Jo surrounded by friends (including, it would seem, the parents of half the children I’ve looked after at school this year). So we’ll take that.

Hard though the process has been, we’ve been able to see God’s hand in it; had glimpses of him working behind the scenes in ways we wouldn’t have expected. One of those ways has been in the provision of school places for Susannah (going into Y2) and Noah (going into Reception) in a school in Nottingham – I hope to be studying at St John’s, Nottingham; we hope to move there in August – as well as in the Sheffield school where Susannah is currently in Y1.

Noah has three more days left at nursery, and then, after the summer, he’ll be a schoolboy. He is so ready; really looking forward to that…Susannah is preparing to leave her school behind. I think that will be hard, but at the same time, she’s really looking forward to the new school. Perhaps this is the hardest thing: that we can’t say it is definitely This or it is definitely That – and so we need to be saying goodbye without quite having the freedom to say a Proper goodbye…


the curious journey of a would be ordinand

As Requested...

...by his god-mother, a photo of Noah. I hope it will do - it is a typical pose! More, of Susannah, Noah and Elijah (now free-standing), on my flickr page.

Cry Mercy

Further thoughts on God’s judgement:

The cross:
The crucifixion is a moment of judgement [HT to David Bole]. It is an ironic moment: humanity, represented by the Jewish religious and Roman civic authorities, passes judgement on God, represented by Jesus; while God, represented by Jesus, passes judgement on humanity, also represented by Jesus.
God’s judgement is that all humanity has fallen short, and the required consequence is the death penalty. That’s a stark, and all-encompassing, judgement. But God chooses to take on our penalty in our place. [Now, penal substitution may be problematic for some, implying some sort of monstrous cosmic child-abuse in a Father who allows his Son – even sends his Son – to suffer and die. But it seems to me that such an argument is only possible if we view Jesus as some kind of junior God, or God Jr. From a fully Trinitarian perspective, if Jesus is God, then the cross is God’s sacrificial self-choice – a choice not only made in the safety of heaven, but re-made in the horror of Gethsemane – to which God is entitled.]

Jesus’ return:
Jesus will return, to judge the living and the dead. The crucial question will be, How do we respond to God’s judgement that we fall short, and that he pay the penalty? The choice is to seek to save our own life, and die in the attempt, so losing it; or to die to self, through accepting God’s ruling, and so to live. We find ourselves in our own Gethsemane, wrestling with whether or not we will say, “Not my will, but your will” – which is that none should be lost; which was to die in our place – “be done.” In this sense, we pass judgement on ourselves, and God ratifies our decision. His judgement has already been passed, at the cross.

Mercy triumphs over judgement:
I must confess to being uncomfortable at the idea of God passing or imposing judgement between the two events of Jesus’ crucifixion and his return. At least, I am uncomfortable with the idea of his judgement, as it is usually expressed by people: in terms of loss of [quality of] life – flood, famine, HIV/AIDS…
I think that I am uncomfortable with such an idea because the cross proclaims that God’s judgement on humanity comes to us expressed as mercy. And if his judgement comes to humanity as mercy, how much greater is the coming of his mercy to us!

Mission:
Where, then, does the idea of mercy triumphing over judgement leave the mission of the Church? Not in trying to convert people – for that is, and always has been, the work of the Holy Spirit. Nor in trying to save people from hell – for that is, and always will be, the work of Jesus Christ. But – as has always been the case – in making disciples: people who can live out a life, in this life, that follows after God; through whom judgement might be expressed through mercy, and mercy might be expressed through…love.


divine judgement , divine mercy , church and society , mission

After The Flood

Following the catastrophic flooding across much of central England last week, a number of Anglican bishops, in particular evangelicals, have spoken out to identify the flood as an act of divine judgement on our nation, not only for our failure to steward the environment [which would be harsh, given that there has been a rising ground-swell in environmental responsibility over recent years: why hit out at those who have repented/are repenting?] but also for our acceptance of homosexuals as equal members of society. [hat-tip to Maggi Dawn] While I am sure that there is much about our society that makes God sad – such as our failure to raise physically, emotionally and socially healthy children, for example – I am not convinced that God is responsible for the rise (in both frequency and severity) in flooding across the UK.

We need to go back to the Bible as myth. By myth, I mean a story that transcends its original context in significance, and gives meaning that helps us to make sense of the world in which we live. Myth does not necessarily mean ‘not historical.’ I believe that the biblical creation myth describes a series of historical events [as it happens, I believe it describes a re-creation of a pre-existent creation that has been significantly destroyed in the heavenly rebellion of satan, and God’s defeating him and throwing him down to earth, along with his rebel-angel followers].

It seems to me that the biblical myth presents us with, among other things, the following meaning as we look at the world around us:
God made the world and the mechanisms for life to flourish, and called every element of that inter-dependency ‘good’;
That ‘goodness’ has been compromised by the presence and activity of spiritual beings opposed to God;
Humanity is called to steward the earth, which includes working with God to liberate the rest of creation from the control of demonic powers; this is expressed perfectly in the human Jesus, through whom the creator becomes the created; however, at times we have cooperated, wittingly and unwittingly, with the demonic destruction of creation;
Powerful demonic beings are in particular identified with major cities (e.g. Babylon, Tyre, Ephesus, Rome) and with bodies of water (e.g. the Mediterranean; the Nile; the Red Sea; Lake Galilee). Although flooding is famously identified with God’s judgement in the story of Noah’s Ark, waters breaking over land is most usually identified as demonic destruction, to which God is opposed; while land is seen as a sign of God’s care for humanity, most notably in providing a Promised Land for the people he called-out to be a blessing to all peoples. So God defeats the sea demon Yam; confronts and defeats the god of the river Nile; parts the Red Sea, and the Jordan; so the sea of Galilee is whipped-up against Jesus who is on the way to deliver a multiply demonised man, and Jesus subdues this attack; so Peter, on whom the Church is founded, shares in the divine act of walking on the waters; so there is no sea in heaven;
Out of love for creation, God restrains significant demonic destruction (if not, we would be destroyed); but sometimes removes his restraining hand allowing demonic powers to do their destructive will within limits, in the hope that we might call out to God to be delivered;
We are caught up in a cosmic struggle in which we do not have the luxury of being neutral, and in which ‘natural disasters’ will only increase in frequency until the unknown day and hour when Jesus returns to judge the living and the dead, whether that day is imminent or will be delayed for millennia…

Where, then, does this leave us?

There is clearly a physical element to the flooding, and this may be magnified by both human activity that is aggravating rapid climate change and human inactivity to create adequate channels for certain slow-moving rivers;
This event gives rise to the opportunity for us to repent, of believing we are somehow above the rest of creation, and of failing to care for the rest of creation as we should;
The destruction caused by the flooding brings satisfaction to satan, and sadness to God; God may have allowed it to happen, but didn’t send it;
This raises the question, “Why would a God who is supposed to be both good and all-powerful allow this to happen?” to which we can answer, “Out of hope that we might call on him to deliver us, for God works in all circumstances, whether good or ill, to bring good for those who call on him,” for the thief comes to steal and kill and destroy, whereas Jesus comes to bring life in its fullness.

There is plenty of scope for a theological response to what has happened here this week, in ways that extend hope, not condemnation. And there is plenty of scope for the Church to get involved in practical ways in the local context, and in the future-strategy debate in the national context. There are plenty of ways in which we might extend the deliverance Jesus brings, both to those who have had their lives washed away and face (perhaps cannot face) re-building, and to the physical landscape.

I am sure that those bishops who have spoken out have done so after serious thought, and genuinely believe what they have said. And I don’t claim that my alternative reading – of both the Bible and events – is Right and that they are Wrong. But I think, for now at least, this is the ground I will stand on, and reach out to others from.


theology , floods , church and society , mission

Shuffle

I’ve let myself be too busy of late. Not blogging, not taking photos, not listening to music. Sure, all those things can become addictive, can take up too much time. But all work and no play makes Jack a dull lad. We’re made to live in a rhythm of rest and work, recreation and creating.

So I’ve got out my iPod Shuffle for the first time in a while. There’s not much on it at the moment: 4 albums, nothing new, mostly early 90’s. Annie Lennox’s haunting Diva; Suzanne Vega’s quirky 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees; Crowded House’s compiled Recurring Dream; and U2’s pulsating Achtung Baby.

So, what should I add next?


music , iPod

End Of An Era

It always feels a little strange approaching the end of a season at work, whether one is sad or glad to be going. I have 12 shifts left at the sheltered housing scheme, and 16 shifts left at school. Before the end of July I shall officially be ‘between jobs,’ and won’t hear on what I hope to be doing next until August. So I feel for Tony Blair, who stepped down as Prime Minister yesterday, after ten years in office. Last night must have felt strange – at least wherever he was, it’s unlikely he had to put up with flooding and a power cut! I may disagree with so many of his decisions, may dislike him as a political leader; but I feel for him as a human being.

As Tony and Cherie left Downing Street for the last time, and got into the car to go to tender his resignation to the Queen, Cherie turned to the assembled reporters and quipped, “Good bye. I don’t think we will be missing you.”

That was…graceless.


There’s something very satisfying, in the short-term, with getting-in the final word; with getting things off your chest as you walk out the door; saying what you really think, knowing you won’t be around to face the consequences, that someone else will have to pick up the pieces. Satisfying, but destructive – and not just for those to whom such remarks are directed, but also to the one who makes them…


Memo to self: learn from past mistakes; that stuff you could say, that way you could say it, just because you can…don’t; just don’t.


politics , grace

Honey, Get The Canoe...

It is often said that Sheffield is a city built on seven hills. That’s a grand statement, referencing, as it does, ancient Rome. And it glosses over the corresponding geographical feature: valleys.

Sheffield is also a city built in several valleys, through which flow five converging rivers: the Rivelin, the Loxley, the Don, the Sheaf, and the Porter Brook. Indeed, the root of the name Sheffield is Sheaf Feld [flood plain], ‘the flood plain of the river Sheaf’ [and not, as the city and the university coats-of-arms with their sheaves of grain would suggest, Sheaf Field, or ‘field of sheaves’]. So when, on Monday, we had in twenty-four hours the average rainfall for the month of June, the city went back to its roots, lived up to its name.

As features formerly known as roads became rivers and lakes, the local news called the unfolding events an unprecedented tragic disaster for the city. But that is because they come from 40 mile up the road in Leeds, and hadn’t done their homework. Disastrous, yes: for the economy of the city – it is frightening how dependent we are on electricity for doing business, and there is talk of scheduled power cuts for weeks to come while flooded sub-stations are repaired – and for those whose homes have been ruined. Tragic, yes: at least for the families and friends of the two people who lost their lives in the water. But unprecedented, no: the Great Sheffield Flood of 1864 claimed 270 lives; and destroyed, totally or in part, 415 homes, 106 factories and shops, 64 other buildings, 20 bridges and 4478 cottage/market gardens. My daughter’s school puts on a play commemorating it every year. The play fell this week, with added relevance…


Living high up on the side of one of those seven hills, we weren’t at risk – or even aware at the time, while across town people were being airlifted by helicopter from their workplaces. But three of the disabled adults I work with were stranded in a car all Monday night, unable to get home after attending a regular social group earlier in the day. Friends of ours have had their businesses flooded out. And friends of ours living down in Hillsborough – in one of the valleys, where we used to live – saw a lot of water. Hillsborough was shut off by the police on Monday. We drove through on Tuesday evening. The water had been moved on – you’d hardly know it had been there – and the only damage we saw was a collapsed retaining wall in front of B&Q. Not a great advertisement for a DIY store ;-)

There is still significant flooding in much of the surrounding region, and other parts of the country too. They are forecasting more heavy rain at the weekend.


Sheffield , floods

Post Re-instated

Having spoken with the person who felt so uncomfortable; and having listened to comments by Andrew Hamilton and Ben Askew, both of whom I respect greatly; and having made a few minor clarifications to my original post, I am re-posting “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” along with a comment that was added to it at the time:


I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You




I’m not sure how this will end up coming across, but I’m trying to get at something significant in the dynamic tension between ‘falling in love’ and ‘loving someone.’ Let’s start by defining these two phrases. Gary Chapman (author of The Five Love Languages) cites M. Scott Peck’s claim that ‘falling in love’ is not really love at all, because 1) it is not an act of will or a conscious choice; 2) it is effortless; and 3) the one ‘in love’ is not genuinely interested in fostering the personal growth of the other person. In contrast, then, ‘real’ love is an act of will, a conscious choice; involves effort; and is concerned with fostering the personal growth of the beloved. Peck concludes that falling is love is “a genetically determined instinctual component of mating behaviour…the temporary collapse of ego boundaries…which serves to increase the probability of sexual pairing and bonding so as to enhance the survival of the species.” [Chapman, pp. 33, 34]

But I’m not convinced that ‘falling in love’ is confined to the sexual aspect of relationships; indeed, I’d suggest that aspect can be entirely absent. And I’d suggest we can, at least in some circumstances, reframe Peck’s third point from the ‘negative’ “not interested in growth” to the ‘positive’ (though flawed) “seeks to preserve the other person as they are.” Let me also add that, in its concern to foster the personal growth of the beloved, loving someone cannot include coercion or be deterministic and remain love.

Is it not true to say that, in the majority of cases, parents look at their baby and fall in love? That this is an essential mechanism for the survival of the species, not now in terms of creating new life but in terms of caring for a life utterly dependent on, if not it’s biological parents, adult humans? That where this ‘falling in love’ does not take place – as it does not, for all manner of reasons – this is considered a problem? Is it not true that parents fall in love with their children at various stages of their development; and that negotiating the tension between ‘wanting them to stay like this forever’ (being in love with them) and wanting them to grow to maturity (loving them) is the process by which children, hopefully, grow up neither ‘too soon’ nor ‘too little’?

I’d say that I fall in love fairly frequently. That I fall in love with women other than my wife – and that I don’t want to have affairs with them; I don’t ‘fancy them’ or objectify them, but find their company an effortless pleasure. That I fall in love with men – and my heterosexuality is not called into question; but that there is something about their personality that is attractive, causing me to want to spend time getting to know them. That I fall in love with other people’s children. And as someone who currently works in an infant school, and who is seeking to be ordained, living in a culture where paedophilia is a high-profile concern, that is the most risky admission of the three. But in fact the urges of a paedophile are radically different from falling in love with a child: the one is predatory, involving both choice (targeting) and effort (grooming), and seeks to consume; the other is involuntary and effortless, and seeks to protect from harm. In my defence – if defence is needed – I’d simply point out that I know several people who have fallen in love with my children, and it causes me no concern. We have no choice over who we fall in love with; but we do have a choice as to how we respond appropriately. Each week-day lunch-time, I supervise children in the school playground. Whenever a child falls over and hurts themselves, I experience a completely involuntary reaction: the sensation of my blood ‘dropping’ inside me. And then I make a conscious decision: to go over to the child, and clean and cover the graze with a plaster.

I believe that God both falls in love with us, as we are; and loves us, fostering growth.

Perhaps being ‘in love,’ emphasising the positives and being temporarily blind to the negatives, is to celebrate what God has already done in another’s life; and ‘loving’ them is to celebrate what God is yet to finish?

My gut instinct is that, just as in raising children, in the nurturing of Christian community the dynamic tension between being ‘in love’ and ‘loving’ is significant. Most (all?) of what I’ve ever heard focuses on the ‘loving,’ even to the point of telling us we don’t have to like each other, so long as we love each other! Perhaps it’s just that (contrary to popular belief) I’m a Myers Briggs “F” (Feeler, as opposed to Thinker), but I can’t help thinking we’re missing something. I’m not sure I’m any clearer than I was when I started typing, but…

May be I’m wrong in this. May be I’ve just stumbled into a minefield that only exists because I laid it myself; and may be it will explode in my face. But then again, may be not…


On 14/06/07, That Hideous Man commented:
Is the English languauge the only tongue to have only one word for all types of 'love'?
Do many (most/all?) other languages not benefit from having their discussion of such matters conducted with a more nuanced understansding of loves - and we are hampered by have one huge, lumbering catch-all term to contend with?


love , pastoral care , spirituality , missional church leadership , church

Post Deleted

I’ve taken the unusual decision to remove a post I added to my blog yesterday, in the light of feedback.

I am not afraid to post on controversial matters; or to question received understanding; or to write things that may cause some people to feel uncomfortable (and hopefully think differently as a result – I don’t write simply to make people uncomfortable); or to throw out there into the public arena something that I have not fully thought through first, so it can be developed by the response of others, as opposed to crafting an unassailable argument. I am not afraid to take such risks.

But when what I write is misunderstood, by people who generally try to understand me, I have to say, “May be I wasn’t able to communicate what I wanted to communicate.” And in that situation, it is sometimes better to give up, than to carry on attempting to clarify what you were trying to convey. I guess it depends on how important the matter is to you in the first place, and in this case I’ve decided to delete what I wrote. But so as to be accountable I wanted to acknowledge that a post has been removed, and give the reason why.

Millennium Bridge

Another thing I did in London was to walk across the Millennium Bridge, which spans the Thames between St Paul’s Cathedral on the north and the Tate Modern on the south; and to take photos facing in each direction, after Jonny Baker. Jonny had shown the photos he had taken on the bridge when he came to Sheffield for the first Sheffield Blah… recently, and had spoken of how it illustrated the tension he feels in being called to bridge church and culture, mediating a conversation that would be beneficial to both sides.

I had stood outside St Paul’s, but couldn’t bring myself to go in. I just couldn’t hold what I saw with what it means for me to follow Jesus as I see him in the Gospels. Rather, I saw a statement of civic defiance – which, indeed, the un-hit dome of the cathedral potently was during the Luftwaffe bombing of London in the Blitz. On the other hand, I went into the Tate Modern, and found it a strangely empty experience: literally, one hall used for occasional installations was empty, another was closed; symbolically, the building was a void, devoid of ideas (not entirely, obviously). So I walked to The Hayward instead, and found something that resonated with me there…


St Paul’s Cathedral , Tate Modern , spirituality , missional church leadership , church , mission

Kelvingrove Crosses

On the way to Sutherland, we stayed with my sister and her family in Glasgow, and went with them to the recently refurbished Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. The Kelvingrove operates the enlightened policy of allowing photos: in return for a flawed image (reflected lights; people obscuring view) that records your presence there in a way a pristine postcard never can, the museum gets an incredible volume of free advertising.

The Kelvingrove is famous for Salvador Dali’s Christ of St John of the Cross, hung at one end of one of the long sides of the upper gallery that runs around the building. Another image, a bold self portrait by a current artist, has been hung at the corresponding end of the other long side, so that the two images mirror each other. It makes for a fascinating juxtaposition…


The Kelvingrove , the cross

Event Horizon

The public installation Event Horizon continues Gormley’s exhibition beyond the bounds of The Hayward, being composed of 31 casts of the artist’s body placed on rooftops within a certain radius of the gallery and on both sides of the Thames. As you approach the South Bank, you become aware of a figure standing on the sky-line; then another, and another…Again, I’ve added a Flickr set.

These still, silent sentinels spoke to me of unseen angels looking down on the city; just beyond our range of vision.

They also spoke to me of suicides, about to jump: lives equally lived just beyond the range of vision of those going about their everyday business – for so often, when someone kills themselves, those who lived around them say, “I had no idea they felt so isolated…” And it made me think that no life should be lived just beyond the range of vision – someone’s vision – and that, perhaps, we need to stop and look around us more often than we generally do…


Antony Gormley , Event Horizon

Blind Light

So seeing as I had to be in London yesterday, I went along to the Antony Gormley exhibition at The Hayward in the afternoon. Gormley is a fascinating sculptor, whose work often explores the incarnate nature of our experience of life, and de/constructs the relationship between the body and the space around it.

Blind Light is a large perspex room filled with a dense fog of water vapour and flooded with white light. Visitors can walk all around the outside – seeing anyone inside who is also walking along the wall – and also enter the room through a single entance/exit. Stepping into the mist is immediately disorienting: visibility is restricted to two feet at most, and the sound of voices – a maximum of twenty-five people all allowed to be inside the room at any one time – is also distorted. Bodies suddenly appear out of the mist just before they bump into you.

Being inside Blind Light was a profound physical experience of the spiritual reality that we walk by faith and not by sight; and in particular of the ideas Pete Rollins has written about (held in paradoxical tension with ideas concerning the experience of the absence of God) of the hyper-presence of God, and the fact that we must walk by faith not because we have been left scrabbling about in the dark, but because the self-revelation of God floods our senses (see the Transfiguration, Matthew 17:1-13//Mark 9:2-13//Luke 9:28-36, also involving a dense cloud of mist and very bright light).


Antony Gormley , Blind Light , Pete Rollins , divine hyper-presence

Tracing An Arc, Part 2

…so I booked myself into The Priory in London to recover. Okay, not strictly true. But I did have to go to The Priory – which is where British celebrities go to deal with their addictions and the inner demons that fuel them, where Amy Winehouse has in mind when she sings, “They tried to make me go to rehab; I said, no, no, no!” Apparently this is standard practice for anyone who is applying to be ordained in the Church of England who has any history of depression (I have, as a teenager), so they can be assessed by a consultant psychiatrist.

Walking down the long driveway, overnight bag in hand (because it was a morning appointment and I stayed in London the night before), was a surreal experience.



In case anyone is wondering, they had no concerns.


The Priory

Tracing An Arc, Part 1

We holidayed at Clachtoll, in North Assynt, Sutherland, the far north west of Scotland. Beyond the range of mobile phone signals. The campsite is right above the beach – and what a beach! I’ve uploaded a set of photos on my Flickr pages.

The rocks here are the oldest in Europe, and, at 500 million years old, among the oldest anywhere in the world. And you feel it. It is a strangely beautiful stark landscape, scraped by ice and (more recently and today) by sheep; scarred with over 200 small freshwater lochs, all containing wild brown trout; scattered with many hundred Red Deer; and, soaring above it all, home to the Golden Eagle, our largest native bird. The children and I had not been here before, but Jo had holidayed here year after year as a child. I loved looking at the mountains – Suilven, Quinag, Stac Pollaidh: a landscape that can’t be tamed, has not been harnessed (though there is talk of wind farms); that exists for its own sake, and for God’s pleasure, and forces us to recognise our limits and take only pleasure too…

We were joined, in their massive new motorhome, by my in-laws, along with Jo’s sister and her family. Which would have been lovely, had they not brought a gastro bug with them…I’ll spare details, but suffice to say it felt like I did a lot of looking after sick people, and we eventually got home shattered…


Clachtoll , Assynt

Turned Around

Not been posting much of late, but because we’ve been busy, not because I’ve been uninspired…We’re off on holiday later today, so I thought I’d update on what’s been going on since I posted on being ‘low.’

We are in a totally different place. Or, rather, our outlook is totally different. In fact, that has been the case almost from the point of acknowledging things weren’t right; but, I didn’t want to post anything prematurely. So, what’s changed?

Firstly, it wasn’t a lifting of external circumstances. There has been change there, but in the Kingdom external change seems to follow internal change; the Kingdom breaks out having first broken in. As we recognised a kairos moment, and intentionally chose to change our minds (metanoia; repent) and embrace a different perspective (pistis; active belief), room was created into which the Kingdom could be realised in our experience (Mark 1:15). I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the Rule of Life we have chosen to take on (expressed through a series of iconic shapes) is incredibly helpful: such Rules are not so much concerned with the ‘what’ of discipleship, but with the ‘how.’

Secondly, we have been surrounded by many friends, both present and geographically removed, who have prayed for us, given godly advice (where asked), supported us in practical acts of service, encouraged us, and generally rallied round. Thank you! You know who you are, and we love you. Of course, those friends have always been there; but, as the apostle Paul once wrote, our current need has given them opportunity to be used by God to support us, and in turn to discover more of God’s support for them (Philippians 4:10-19).

Thirdly, God has already started to redeem the testing circumstances we have experienced. As a result of my being open about what I am struggling with, several friends have felt able to be open, for the first time, about things they are struggling with. That’s the power of permission-giving. Part of me wishes that I could record those things here. It would not be appropriate to do so, even ‘anonymously,’ as it would betray confidences. But here’s the thing: I’m not convinced that the things we might imagine are unusual, extreme pastoral situations (and I’m talking about things far bigger than what I’ve been going through) are actually that unusual. It’s just that we keep them private, secret even from those we call our friends. And as a result, no-one can help carry our burdens, and we are slowly crushed by them. It’s British; but it isn’t godly…


church , spirituality , Rule of Life , pastoral care

Day, Night, Pasture, Pen

We are reading through John’s Gospel in the mornings, and today we came to chapter 10, where Jesus speaks of being the shepherd of the flock, who uses his own body to form the gate to the pen. This is what shepherds did: at night, when it was not possible to see predators approaching the sheep, the sheep were corralled through a small opening into the safety of the pen, and then the shepherd slept sat in the opening, back against one wall, shins pressed up against the other, so that any predator could only get at the sheep by getting past them; and then, in the morning, when it was light and predators could be seen approaching, the shepherd led his sheep out into pasture. In. Out. In. Out. Night. Day. Night. Day.

Our shared experience of life is that it is lived in the tension of a thief who comes to steal and kill and destroy, and a shepherd who comes that we may have life to the full. Right now, I am very aware of several friends for whom the thief has come – not because they are bad sheep, but simply because they are sheep, and hungry wolves and thieves are drawn to their scent…Friends who have sensed a particular vision or calling, only to be struck down by serious illness, for example.

It seems to me that there is a rhythm identified by Jesus in this analogy. And because it is an analogy, we shouldn’t read it as a strict or regular rhythm; but I think he implies that although the predator comes at any time, there are times when we can just be getting on with whatever it is God has called us to do (day/pasture), secure in the knowledge that Jesus is watching over us; and times when that calling needs to be put on hold and Jesus needs to gather us up until the specific danger is past (night/pen).

And what we need to remember while we are sheltered in the pen in the dark – what we need to remind each other – is that the pasture is still out there; the grass is growing; that the thing to which we have been called has not been stolen or killed or destroyed, but awaits the dawn when Jesus will rise up and lead us back out again…


“I tell you the truth, the man who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognise a stranger's voice.”
Jesus used this figure of speech, but they did not understand what he was telling them. Therefore Jesus said again, “I tell you the truth, I am the gate for the sheep. All who ever came before me were thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. He will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.
“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd who owns the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.
“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd. The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my Father.”
(John 10:1-18)


Good Shepherd , spirituality , church , pastoral care

Beds Of London

I have to attend an appointment in north London on the morning of Wednesday 6th June, as part of the vocational discernment process I’m in.

“Are you familiar with London?” the person I spoke to asked.
“I wouldn’t use the word familiar…” I replied, “…large city, south of England?”

I shall have to travel to London by train the day before, and I’m wondering whether any friends or friends-of-friends in central or north (within striking distance of the Piccadilly Line) London could put me up on the night of Tuesday 5th June, and give me breakfast on the Wednesday morning?

If you can help me out, email me on andrew [at] dowsetts [dot] net
Cheers.


[original photo by Jo Dowsett]


emerging church

Lifeshapes In Fresh Places

Having posted here most recently on the Lifeshapes Discipleship Square, today I noted with interest that Steven Croft, who heads up Fresh Expressions, has written a piece summarising the square in response to questions arising from the current Hard Questions tour. The piece, entitled ‘Conscious Incompetence,’ is published in the 04/05/07 edition of The Record, a supplement of The Church of England Newspaper, which can be downloaded free from here. I’m delighted to see Mission Order principles being advocated by such a strategically key leader within the Church of England.


missional church leadership , Lifeshapes , Fresh Expressions , Steven Croft , Mission Shaped Church

Making Disciples | L4/D4

I’m thinking of a community my wife and I led at one time. We’d done a good job of L1, L2 and L3 leadership, and all kinds of good fruit had flourished in people’s lives. We’d demonstrated our character and growing ability, and been invited to take on another leadership role. And, that first time of visiting, we made a mess of L4…
We made the mistake of assuming that competent team members could simply step up to being competent team leaders. In fact, becoming a leader brings you, as a disciple yourself, to another D1: a competent team member starts out as an unconsciously incompetent leader, and needs to be taken round a whole new discipleship square.

On the night of his arrest, Jesus has a lot to say to his disciples. John’s Gospel gives us a window into that. And he has even more to tell them over the forty days between his resurrection and ascension. Between the end of his Gospel and the start of his sequel, The Acts of the Apostles, Luke gives us an opaque window into that. Jesus is about to move on to a new role – interceding for us at the right hand of the Father – but before he does, he has to finish the current role – disciple-maker of those who will carry his message – well.

Followers at D4 need leaders operating at L4: and this requires not only that we release them, but that we make a good job of reviewing what they have learnt from us – and of putting in place the structures for an ongoing but different relationship. These structures are of both a practical and a relational re-positioning nature. Practically, the disciples won’t see Jesus face-to-face, but will have access to him through his spirit in them. Relationally, they are no longer servants but friends – a very different dynamic. Now they are vision-bearers in their own right, in continuity with the vision Jesus called them to.

Returning to our past mistakes, what would we do different now? What have we done differently since? Principally, I think we gave those who followed us too much rope at once, and then got frustrated when they hanged themselves with it. The lesson we learnt the hard way was to prioritise occasional but regular reviews, continuing the relationship not as leader-follower but as mentor-leader: not telling them what to do, but reminding them how to do well. In practice, and for example, this means that we currently get together every two months with a group of leaders we used to get together with every two weeks when they were our followers; while being mentored ourselves by those who used to lead us.

One day it will be time to move on to something new; if you are a pioneer, such days will happen frequently. That makes it even more important that we invest in our exit strategy…


missional church leadership , making disciples , emerging missional church , Discipleship Square

Making Disciples | L3/D3

One of the biggest problems with inherited-mode church is that we employ the vicar to do for us – vicariously – the work of mission and evangelism. In other words, we take our responsibility to make disciples seriously, by delegating it to the professional. The emerging missional church – both within and out-with institutional structures – has the opportunity to address this. But let’s not pretend it is an easy gravitational pull to break out of.

As his disciples emerge from D2, Jesus shifts gear from L2 to L3. He still takes responsibility for defining the parameters of the vision, and the strategy; but delegates responsibility for implementing them:
“We’re going to move on from Galilee and start making our way towards Jerusalem. I want you to go ahead of me; between you, to cover all the settlements on our route. Find Bed & Breakfast with whoever welcomes you in; and heal the sick, drive out demons, raise the dead, and explain your actions as evidence of God’s kingdom breaking-into the lives of ordinary men, women and children. How you decide who goes where, and who you connect with there, is up to you. Oh, and don’t get hung up on not finding a welcome; move on until you do.”
Jesus takes a step back, gives them space to have a go, to take risks, to experience knock-backs, to see signs of encouragement, to learn from things not turning out as they expected, to grow. But he’s not far behind, available to help them process their experience. This is the season of, “Okay, we’re getting used to telling demons to go and seeing them do so; so, how come this one won’t?” “Try building-in a discipline of prayer and fasting. God uses these things to work away at the resistance to him in you, and as resistance decreases, so his power is able to flow through you more fully.”

Followers at D3 need leaders operating at L3: and that requires of us the humility to let others do what we do – to let them do things perhaps not the way we would have done it ourselves; and even, at least initially, not as well as we would have done it…It requires of us that we are generous enough to endorse another, in these circumstances; and (because we’re not Jesus) to be big enough to apologise and ask for forgiveness of the other when we fail to do so. And it may require that we have to go to a community and apologise where those we are responsible for sending do something spectacularly wrong (it happens; I’ve known it from the D side and the L side) and have caused unintentional hurt. And to help them learn from their mistake, and give them another go…


missional church leadership , making disciples , emerging missional church , Discipleship Square

Making Disciples | L2/D2

You’ve cast a vision to start something in a ‘new’ neighbourhood. A few others have joined you – some because they are attracted to you, some because they are attracted to the vision – and a core team has begun to coalesce. One couple committed to join you for two years; that time is up, and they are moving on. About the same time, another family had to move on due to redeployment at work. Good things have been going on, but whatever growth you had hoped for – deepening relationships with neighbours, say – has been slower than the team might have hoped. Now it seems like you’ve taken a collective hit; a backward step from some ‘critical mass’ in momentum. Morale heads south. What are you going to do?

Quite early into Jesus’ public ministry, we see him working hard – and not entirely successfully – to get away from the crowds in order to spend a significant amount of time with his disciples, who have come to the realisation that they have given up their means of providing food and clothing for themselves and their families, to follow a visionary who might be out of his mind, and is certainly starting to attract hostile attention from influential enemies…

Followers at D2 need leaders operating at L2: and this level of encouragement requires prioritising significant amounts of contact time. Naturally pioneering leaders – the kind of leaders we often see in emerging missional churches – will find this requirement frustrating, because you will find yourself spending more time with your team behind closed doors than ‘out there’ engaging with the community. But if you fail to bite the bullet on this one, you will end up as a chaplain to a de-motivated group of people, until the day you have had enough of that and quit…


missional church leadership , making disciples , emerging missional church , Discipleship Square

Making Disciples | L1/D1

There are four stages to discipleship (notation: D1, D2, D3, D4), and each stage calls for a different approach to leading (notation: L1, L2, L3, L4). Being realistic we are likely to naturally default to one, or possibly two, of these; and be naturally weaker at one or more others – depending on our personality, and our own experience of being led. But we can learn from Jesus how to operate appropriately to each stage, as we seek to make disciples who make disciples until the end of the age.

To recap, the stages of discipleship are: unconscious incompetence (D1); conscious incompetence (D2); conscious competence (D3); and unconscious competence (D4).


Allow me to make two general observations:
1) inherited-mode church is deeply, profoundly risk-averse. Institutional leaders rarely permit pioneering developments without first requiring fully-comprehensive risk-assessment and detailed plans mapped out up front.
2) the emerging church is deeply, profoundly committed to decision-making by consensus; and suspicious – as the result of abuses they have witnessed in the inherited-mode church – of strong individual leadership.
Both positions are deeply, profoundly unhelpful starting points, and equally contribute to conspire against pioneering new growth ever taking off.

Followers at D1 need leaders operating at L1: single-minded vision-bearers, with the ability to spot potential that has not yet been proven (prioritising character before gifting) and extend opportunity, the invitation to invest in the life of another. Leaders operating at L1 will be big on vision, big on opportunity to be with them as they engage with their vision, low in explanation concerning the vision – not weighing relationship down with theory, but allowing explanation to follow experience; drawing-out questions rather than downloading answers; hands-on learning rather than academic study. And some people need a bit more structure than that, and might show an initial interest that rapidly falls away: but L1 leaders won’t beat themselves up over that (“Was it something I said?” “Please don’t go…”), or beat the other guy up either (“Well, they were never going to amount to much – too many issues.”). Leaders operating at L1 will hear the concerns of their bishops and their congregation, acknowledge them, affirm the individuals…and then get on with what they are about. And the Chuch needs to learn to give them permission to do so.

Antione de Saint-Exupery’s dictum “If you want people to build ships, you don’t have to teach them how to cut wood, you just have to teach how to dream about the endless sea…” is popular with emerging missional church commentators. And it perfectly expresses L1 visionary leadership. But, if you want people to build ships, at some point you do have to teach them how to cut wood; to move into and through conscious incompetence…They need to learn some skills – not only how to build a ship, but how to navigate by the stars so they can cross the sea. Keeping the dream alive – returning to it time and time and time again; resisting the siren allure of other, seemingly more appealing, dreams; not permitting dilution or distraction (Jesus telling Peter to “Get behind me, satan” is not pastorally sensitive. Get over it.) – will carry them through the trough of the wave that obliterates the sky above and threatens to drown us almost before we have begun…


missional church leadership , making disciples , emerging missional church , Discipleship Square

Everyday Images Of The Cross

That Hideous Man (Gavin, in Perth, Scotland) sent me an email suggesting I consider submitting a photograph to the Rood Awakenings gallery. Rood Awakenings is a fringe event at the forthcoming Perth Festival of the Arts, and the gallery will showcase images of the cross in daily life, illustrating how representations of the cross are all around us, influencing us to a greater or lesser extent. Last year I submitted several photographs to a local exhibition, and this online exhibition could be well worth a visit, if it attracts enough submissions.

I took these images late this afternoon. They are probably too subtle to submit, lack enough contrast; but a negative image cross (i.e. one formed by the space between solid forms) has been created in this finely-chopped onion.* The very ordinariness of this tiny detail gives it its power: brings the cross into the heart of the home, grounded in the domestic busyness of the kitchen; emphasises the place of the cross in God’s ongoing everyday provision for our lives; speaks of its sweet-and-bitterness…


*the handiwork of my wife – I have no idea how to cut an onion like that!


Rood Awakenings , the cross

Discipleship | Competence

The symptoms of my being of ‘low mood’ at present include a significant loss of confidence in my ability to do things that I have done at a level of competence in the past. While this feels crap, I know that God works in all circumstances, whether good or bad, to bring good for those who love him.

There are four stages to being/making disciples (in any sphere – think about the stages of learning to drive a car, for example):
unconscious incompetence (you’ve just got your provisional licence…);
conscious incompetence (“I’m never going to pass my test…”);
conscious competence (you can drive/parallel park so long as you think about what you are doing);
unconscious competence (you drive/parallel park without thinking about driving/parking).
(This summarises the Lifeshapes Discipleship Square, based on Jesus’ dealings with his disciples in the Gospels.)

My friend Sharon describes it like this:
a stage defined by ‘self’ (one can imagine Jesus’ disciples feeling special at being chosen by him, perhaps even superior to those who weren’t);
a stage defined by ‘emptying’ of self;
a stage defined by ‘being filled’ by God;
and a stage defined by the ‘overflow’ of what has filled us touching others.


The thing is, it’s hard to teach someone else to do something that you do at a level of unconscious competence: “How do you do that?” “I just do.”
Sometimes, we need to be taken back to a stage where we have to work through conscious competence in order to better teach others what we have been taught.



missional church leadership , making disciples , competence , Discipleship Square

Refreshment

The garden has been a place of micro-retreat, a well that goes deep to living water, for me in all this. Over the past few days I’ve observed Blue Tits in the early morning and Magpies in the afternoon; and yesterday morning, after the first rain in six weeks fell over night, the unfurling of the masses of Bluebells…


“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?
“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
(Jesus, Matthew 6:25-34)


small is beautiful

Depressed But Hopeful

Recently I have been of what my GP diagnosed on Monday as ‘low mood.’

The past six months or so have been hard. Several pressure circumstances have coincided, and ground me down in incremental bites – each bite small enough to go, almost, unnoticed, easily dismissed; but collectively decimating – to the point where I was existing more than living. And that, in turn, has put massively increased burdens on Jo. Very recently, the ongoing situation has been interrupted by a kairos moment; a point of shouting out ‘ENOUGH!’ with the status quo; an opportunity for the kingdom of God to break in and transform our circumstances, as we repent and believe.

I’ve written before about the process of repentance and belief: of having one’s eyes opened to observe what is going on, to reflect on the situation, and seek to discuss it appropriately with friends who will help us to see rightly; and then of making a plan together of how we will live differently, asking friends to hold us to account to do what we have said we will do, before we act in a different way from before. (This summarises the Lifeshapes Learning Circle, based on Jesus’ teaching in the Sermon on the Mount.)


But I wanted to name the pressure points, because they are incredibly common and yet as Church we are often silent about them - which is a mistake, because in naming things we bring them into the light, and they begin to lose their hold over us.

Our third child, Elijah, who is 8 months old, cries much more than his sister and brother did. And every time he has cried, something inside of me has shut down; something that should have responded to his calling out with emotional presence and practical support; something that should have drawn the family closer, not driven us apart. (I guess all those friends who wished ‘pay back’ on us for having two easy babies have got what you wished for. I forgive you, totally. Just be careful what you wish for…) And now I can understand why parents, and child-minders, sometimes harm babies, sometimes fatally. They say you shouldn’t judge another man until you have walked in his shoes. I guess the point is not that gaining an understanding of their experience of life qualifies you to pass judgement; but that once you have such insight you will want only mercy for them, and pass up on the ‘right’ to call for judgement at all…
I don’t recall ever hearing such things brought into the light when church has gathered. I suspect that this is, at least in part, out of deference for those to whom it does not apply. But sometimes single/married/childless/parenting/caring for a disabled or elderly relative/[keep filling in the blank as relevant] people need to take a back seat and learn of the things married/single/parenting/childless/[fill the blank]/caring people struggle with. If we only discuss lowest-common-denominator experiences, or speak in generalisations, we will fail to carry one another’s burdens; to live as God’s redeemed-and-being-redeemed family. Instead, we give everyone the impression that the church is biased towards whichever group of people they do not fit into, and give the accuser room to sow seeds of resentment.

At the same time, my experience of the workplace is pretty shitty. I can’t discuss the situation in any detail, but suffice to say that it concerns workplace politics, and a feud between certain individuals that has resulted in everyone else being caught in the crossfire. And again, I’m aware of several other individuals whose workplace is a miserable and/or unjust place; and I suspect that this is a fairly common experience.

And then there has been the process of discerning with the Diocese and wider Church of England my sense of vocation, and my sense that this is the time to move into that calling. That has been a difficult and at times very painful journey. It feels like, if you survive the process, you’re fit to go through. Nietzsche proposed that whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m inclined to disagree. I suspect the institutional process results in a lot of people – curates, junior doctors, whatever – starting out crushed in spirit.


The good news is all three of these specific pressure circumstances have fairly close resolution dates: Elijah will learn to speak, instead of cry; I leave my present employment in the summer, whatever happens next; and I have a date for a selection panel in the summer, and an offer of a college place to take up if I am approved. The better news is that we have the opportunity to address how we will better deal with other pressure circumstances that will, inevitably, arise in the future; and friends who will support us in that process.


under pressure , low mood , hope , Learning Circle

Sketch

It might not look much to you, but this preparatory sketch for an oil painting (which may or may not materialise) is the first time in years I’ve drawn (last time was BC, or Before Children…), and that makes it significant to me. It is of a part of Blacka Moor, looking towards Totley Moor on the horizon.

Resurrection | Uncertainty

Easter has come to be a great celebration of the Church – and rightly so. But it is worth remembering that Jesus’ resurrection gives rise to uncertainty as much as to certainty – and, indeed, that in response to the resurrected Lord we may have to pass through uncertainty before certainty (in the sense of confidence, not empirical proof) can be ours.

Thomas famously ‘doubts,’ and is held up by the Church as the example par excellence of lack of faith (somewhat unfairly, as Jesus comes to restore Thomas just as he comes to restore Peter who has denied him). Thomas lacks certainty that Jesus has risen from the dead. In this, it seems to me, he does not doubt God; but expresses uncertainty in the ability of the community of disciples to rightly discern what God is up to; and quite possibly uncertainty in his own ability to do likewise.

Peter also expresses uncertainty: having encountered the risen Jesus, and knowing him to be so, Peter and others return to Galilee, and take up their fishing nets. In going back to what he had been doing before God called him to follow, Peter demonstrates an uncertainty in his ability to discern what God is up to now.

At times, I have uncertainty in the ability of the Church to rightly discern God’s leading. At times I am challenged to accept uncertainty in my ability to do likewise. Having ‘gone through’ Good Friday and Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday, I may wish it were otherwise. But perhaps this is as much part of the post-Easter continuation of the story as our celebrations.


Easter , resurrection

Meeting The Resurrected Jesus

Risen Lord Jesus, reconcile me
With you, and with
My wife
My children
Your Church
My neighbour
The Earth

For I have fallen short
As disciple
And husband
And father
And member of your body
And neighbour
And steward of creation

Christ with pierced feet
Come to me:
Pierce the walls I have built around me
To hide behind,
And still my fear
With your peace

Christ with pierced hands
Come to me:
Pierce the night through which
I have laboured in my own strength,
And still my striving
With your grace

Christ with pierced side
Come to me:
Who has denied your place
In my life,
And pierce my heart
With your restoring love


Easter , resurrection

Good Friday | The Cross | Reconciled Creation

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.
Colossians 1:15-20

The cross is a paradox: at once, one of the central images of Christianity; and yet an unfathomable mystery. (This paradox is equally true of other central Christian images, such as bread and wine, and baptism. I believe that they are meant to present us with such a paradox.) At best, the Church has made use of several different ways of talking about the cross, to partially describe facets of its significance. At worst, the Church has elevated one or other particular way of talking about to cross as being the most important, or even the explanation.

Evangelical and Liberal traditions alike (though in different ways) emphasise the rational and elevate knowledge (for example, the evangelical Alpha course tells those interested in Christianity which Questions they need to be asking, and which Answers they need to arrive at; while Liberal Christianity strips the funding narrative of the faith of any elements that cannot be measured and explained by scientific enquiry: both traditions focus on ‘knowing the right things,’ often at the expense of ‘knowing in the right way,’ that is, understanding that results in transformation rather than simply information). Each tradition, in its own way, fears mystery – as being fundamentally undermining to faith…

One of the more overlooked dimensions of the cross is its place in relation to creation wider than humanity (let alone individuals). But according to Colossians 1, the cross is – somehow – key to a work of reconciliation, the scope of which takes in ‘all things.’ We need to rediscover this element…

Wood,
Taken from trees of the fields
That clapped their hands in praise;
Co-opted, against its will, by men
To stretch out the hands
That moulded the earth…

Iron,
Dug from the ground,
Smelted,
Poured into moulds,
Nine-inch nails,
To pierce the hands
That moulded the earth…

Wood,
And iron,
And flesh,
Brought together by men –
And reconciled by God…


Holy Week , Good Friday , the cross

Happy Birthday, Susie Rose!

Happy birthday to my daughter, Susannah. Six today.

Palm Sunday | April Fool

Frequently in the headlines, for all the wrong reasons; and name-checked, somewhat too lazily, by the Media at any eruption anywhere of the social ills common to the multicultural inner-city; the Jerusalem Estate had become a national byword for trouble.

The last time the local MP visited, rioting had ensued. And that had left the government with a problem they had to respond to, in a decisive manner…But to parachute-in the Home Secretary would be seen as an admission that, for all their talk of being Tough On Crime, Tough On The Causes Of Crime, they had lost grip of the situation; lost the Law And Order debate. The PM summoned the unfortunate MP: he would have to go back. He’d have, of course, the PM’s public backing – every confidence; standing by my man – of course; but, if he were to screw up again, that would – you do understand – be the end of his political career: do I make myself clear?

The MP returned to his constituency, and made his visit. The police presence on the streets was visibly raised – some would say, heavy-handed. He drove through in a big car, complete with police outriders – more in keeping with the visit of a senior cabinet minister, or member of the royal family.

Jesus read about it the next morning in the papers, over breakfast. Then he sent two of his mates to fetch him a car: a new one, just delivered by the dealership to a regular bloke who lived on the edge of the Estate – he hadn’t even driven it yet. Jesus was going joy-riding.

Somehow the neighbours realised what was behind Jesus’ actions. Not dissing them, but identifying with them. Parodying the Official Visit. Not bringing the neighbourhood down; but celebrating it. Even the guy whose car was chosen knew he’d get it back without a scratch.

So Jesus set off, driving through the Estate, windows down, radio turned up high – loud enough to bother the police, now back down to normal numbers, with not enough back-up to risk making an arrest – waving at passers-by as he went. Word spread. People came out of their houses. The atmosphere among the crowd remained good-natured throughout; but a fair degree of vandalism to street furniture was later reported, as they celebrated somewhat enthusiastically (several traffic cones were liberated; that sort of thing).

Later Jesus returned the car, unscratched, to its owner; and went out for a curry with his mates.

(Some years later the government decided to bulldoze the Estate and relocate the community. The police had to evict whole streets of families from their homes.)


And Jesus asked, “How ought my Church relate to the wider community? As those arriving to gift her patronage, and demanding the appropriate respect; or fully identifying with the locals, even at the risk of appearing foolish?”


[Archives: here is what I wrote last Palm Sunday]


Lent , Palm Sunday , April Fool