Inclusivity

I like this a lot. I found it on the notices of Shildon Methodist Church on a recent visit. 

In a world that excludes, we need a different way... 

Earthing myself

I’m still struggling - nearly two months after being signed off sick. My breathing is a little better until I try to do something and then I get all hot and cough uncontrollably and go all wobbly. I am signed off for longer which is frustrating as I’m desperate to get back to work. That cannot be just yet. 

I’ve been moved over recent weeks about how God has in this mess reminded me he or she is bigger than anything I might face. Three episodes stand out:

I went to see my former congregation in Shildon on the way back down south from a stay in the Lake District staying in a cottage gifted to us by a friend to try and rest in it. The church, although now smaller in number, seemed in good heart. Laughter was always at the heart of their fellowship and that was still there. I was minister at Shildon for just a year from 2006 to 2007 while I was Superintendent of the then Shildon Circuit, the only full time minister for five churches. This church were a great gift to me in what was a difficult year. Some ladies well in their 80’s got me on stage with them to do YMCA with actions and choreography - don’t ask! 

A lady said to me on my visit the other Sunday how much they didn’t want me to leave and that I was always so sincere. We went to another of my former churches later and there a young mum came up to me and asked if I had been the minister there in June 2007. I had taken the funeral of her baby who tragically died and she was so upset then she never said thank you and had been searching for me for 11 years to do so. I was really moved by that. In exile from my ministry, I’ve begun to wonder if I can do this anymore. Two conversations away from the situation, people who’ve really been helped, have now helped me.

On the way down south after leaving County Durham we made two stops both which helped in this earthing me and helping me refocus away from chest pain and frustration that I can’t function. We had on our way up north and on our way down to have plenty of overnight stops as I can’t drive far yet without feeling exhausted. We had a night being hosted by Jonathan and Sue Baker in the vicarage at Beverley Minster. Jonathan married us last year and moved last December to be the vicar of Beverley Minster and four other churches. Jonathan described life to me as “bonkers, but happy!” This is the view from his vicarage drive! Wow! I enjoyed looking up at the Minster then touring it the next morning. There was a real sense of history. I love cathedrals because I’m acutely aware people have kept the faith in them for centuries and my footprint in them is part of a long story which will go on and on. It was a gift to be listened to over post evening meal coffee, to relax with friends and to simply wallow in the awe of a holy place and refind the mystery of God in my life and on my journey. 

On the way back down to the south coast we called as we always like to on our cathedral. Beloved Peterborough! Over the last few weeks they have had the Museum of the Moon there - an awesome piece of work. Also at the moment Tim Peake’s spacecraft is there for people to see. We went to a half hour experience of what it was like to descend to earth from space. Amazing! Thousands of people have visited the cathedral to see the exhibition and the moon. We sang evensong looking at it. I was struck by the cross in front of it - while the earth turns the cross stands - we need to know what is permanent. I’ve been struggling with my health and my home and my job and our cats being taken away temporarily. I’ve been struggling with sudden change. I don’t want to have to sleep for ages after doing anything or go for a walk like today just round a square and have to sit on a bench and sleep before coming back! I want to come back to work. I cannot. I go into the Co op this morning and have to stand in the doorway for ages because I haven’t a clue why I am in there! How can I run a Circuit with absolute brain fog? 

Perhaps I need to look up. Perhaps there’s more to know. Perhaps even in my illness there are lessons and signs to discover. You certainly rejoice in small blessings: “I am coughing less”; “It is ridiculously warm for October”; “someone sent me a lovely message today.”  There is always something beyond us. What must it be like to go into space? Here’s a budding astronaut!

So here we are. Still off sick, breathing still bad, energy poor, blood test confirming I’ve been exposed to the aspergillosis mould and I’m going to hospital to sort some treatment soon; Lis now very unwell with similar symptoms; my Circuit, well, I’ve no idea what’s happening in it, I just have to trust others to care for it; we face letting go of our home next week and moving into an empty manse in Hailsham temporarily while those responsible for our whole life and future sort out a longer term plan. But in all this we are held, by outbursts of Christianity; by awe; by assurance we do not travel this road alone. There is a fixed certainty in God. 

Lis reminded me the other day over this journey I haven’t laughed much. So thank you for This Country, a gem of a programme. Kerry and her crumpets made me laugh out loud on Saturday and I thank God for that.

Lifting my eyes

I write this on Holy Island. We have a night here after nearly a fortnight gifted to us by a friend letting us use his lovely cottage in the Lake District for nearly a fortnight to try and get some rest.

Sadly I’m not a lot better. I have needed to find a big God bigger than my pain. I’ve looked out from my friend Rob’s bathroom window on the might of Blencathra. Every day it looked different, in sun and in rain, in clear sky and in mist. A sign like my favourite spot on Holy Island, that there is always something or someone beyond us and our worries are mere trifles.

I lift up my eyes to the hills. I recommend it.