Grit and guts, wrestling the mugger to the floor, containing our impatience ...

Warning: I’m going to blog about Boris. But please note I’m not going to make any comment whatsoever about him in what follows, I was just interested in the message being shared as I listened to him yesterday morning making his first speech to the nation after falling ill.

His language was somewhat war like, rallying the troops, being bullish about achievements in the conflict so far and giving directions to us as this thing is not over by a long way. 

“But once again I want to thank you, the people of this country, for the sheer grit and guts you have shown and are continuing to show.”

“If this virus were a physical assailant, an unexpected and invisible mugger, which I can tell you from personal experience it is, then this is the moment when we have begun to wrestle it to the floor.”

 “I ask you to contain your impatience.”

I have sensed over the last week as I’ve watched the government press briefings, the people coming out each night have been waiting for Boris to appear as they were dithering with their answers to the questions. Yesterday morning out he came into Downing Street, gave us his unique style of bullish optimism, warned us we have to keep the lockdown going and then turned Churchillian! I almost expected “we will fight it on the beaches” - what we got was “ the United Kingdom will emerge stronger than ever before.” 

Boris shook his fists a lot as he delivered this tub thumping speech to us, alright, there wasn’t a lot of substance, there was no detailed plan, no addressing of the things that haven’t been handled well, but love him or loathe him, we know now he is back! Mind you, I suspect he went for a lie down afterwards. We got Matt Hancock again last night, who does look straight at the cinema and look strict. Priti Patel looks straight at the camera and looks scary. They only bring her out on a Saturday to tell us shoplifting crime have gone down. Perhaps no one has told her all the shops are shut! 

I’ve been reflecting on when it is right in leadership first to tub thump, to try and encourage those who you want to follow you, and then give them the details. I always like at church councils  to say a few words about what is going well because part of leadership has to be motivating people. If we are constantly criticised or it is all negative from the leader to us, then we will be demoralised. We need to get people on side if we are leaders, but there is also a place for discipline and hard words. Very often, leaders will not be popular. I’ve been there a lot! The nasty letters hurt. But sometimes the hard word has to be said or the difficult direction followed to enable a better future. 

I’ve been thinking today about Jesus making a statement in a crisis to rally the masses. He turned the concept of leadership on its head. True leadership is not about power it is about enabling life for others, it is about serving not ego trips. Jesus would say today have courage, I know you are suffering, good will triumph, this will pass. I am with you.” Jesus would say “be kind to each other and to yourself. I know this isn’t easy.” 

Jesus showed true leadership not just through motivational words but through action. He would be big on righting injustices during this crisis. 

Those who are taking our food parcels, acting as buddies to the lonely, raising money to keep charities afloat, enabling church to be there still for people, befriending the bereaved, weeping with the broken,he’d be there. The figures released this morning of the numbers dying in care homes is shocking. I can’t see those of us who are vulnerable or elderly going anywhere soon. The Telegraph this morning has interviews  with those over 70 saying “you can’t keep me in much longer.” But how on earth you let some out and keep some in I just don’t know. But that’s for another day.  

 Jesus washed feet. I read this recently:

”Jesus washed the feet of his disciples even during his most trying time. Great leaders today see themselves as serving their teams--equipping, encouraging and coaching them to realize their potential. Leadership is about others, not you. Great leaders balance conviction with compassion.”

My beloved college principal, Graham Slater used to turn up to assess our preaching. He used to ask “where was your clincher, young man?” He wanted to hear how the message might be applied. We need to see messages put into practice. I love the answer John the Baptist gets from Jesus given to those sent to see if Jesus might the one who is to come.

“Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

I said I wouldn’t comment on Boris, but we need to see practical examples of how the words we heard yesterday will be put into practice to enable us to return to some sort of normal one day. Or even start to live with what some people are calling the “new normal.” I wouldn’t want his job for all the money in the world. Whether we like him or not, he and his government need our prayers. We will contain our patience for now, we will continue to show grit and guts and we hope this awful virus will indeed be finally wrestled to the floor, never to get up again. 

A little ps: maybe we need to look to the other side of the world to a country whose leader cared for them after a terrorist attack and now has guided them through coronavirus with few deaths and now saying the thing has almost been eradicated. Here are two quotes from that leader:

”Getting stopped in the middle of the lingerie section, when you're trying to stock up on a few things, by an older man who wants a selfie is a little bit awkward... but I don't let that get in the way of me trying to do normal things, because that is when I get to interact with people as well. Preferably not amongst the underwear, though.”

“Everything I've ever thought about doing has been, in some sense, about helping people.”

Jacinda Ardern is an inspiration. With her people she shows compassionate leadership. She looks at one with her people. Like she cares! Recently she shared this kiwi poem by Nadine Anne Hura as we give mother earth a well deserved opportunity to heal. I like it (and her) a lot. 

We’ll not move upon you
For awhile
We’ll stop, we’ll cease
We’ll slow down and stay home
Draw each other close and be kind
Kinder than we’ve ever been.
I wish we could say we were doing it for you
as much as ourselves
But hei aha
We’re doing it anyway
It’s right. It’s time.
Time to return
Time to remember
Time to listen and forgive
Time to withhold judgement
Time to cry
Time to think
About others
Remove our shoes
Press hands to soil
Sift grains between fingers
Gentle palms
Time to plant
Time to wait
Time to notice
To whom we belong
For now it’s just you
And the wind
And the forests and the oceans and the sky full of rain
Finally, it’s raining!
Ka turuturu te wai kamo o Rangi ki runga i a koe
Embrace it
This sacrifice of solitude we have carved out for you
He iti noaiho – a small offering
People always said it wasn’t possible
To ground flights and stay home and stop our habits of consumption
But it was
It always was.
We were just afraid of how much it was going to hurt
– and it IS hurting and it will hurt and continue to hurt
But not as much as you have been hurt.
So be still now
Wrap your hills around our absence
Loosen the concrete belt cinched tight at your waist
Rest.
Breathe.
Recover.
Heal –
And we will do the same.

How do we get out of here? Not with Dettol!

Surely the most bizarre moments of this past week have come from the unpredictable mouth of the most powerful man on the planet. 

At his press conference the other day thinking out loud he said what if maybe if we injected people with disinfectant - ooh, we might find a cure for Covid-19. The doctor to whom he said this looked aghast at him! Companies like Dettol found themselves having to put out statements quickly to say please don’t inject yourself with or swallow disinfectant unless you want to die. 

Then later, the President said he was asking a sarcastic question to the press to see how they reacted! 

I love the picture above which someone posted on Friday evening!

We all want to know how we get out of this crisis we find ourselves in. We want to know an exit strategy. Not for now, but to have some signs we might see one day to give us some hope we might get out of lockdown. 

Two of the devolved nations have produced documents to have a conversation what the “new normal” might slowly look like. The UK government is still staying just stay at home. I hope and pray no one in America went out to bulk buy Dettol after they listened to their President. But you never know... people are listening for a way out. Some of my friends are now focussing on 2021. We cannot see things we want to do being safe this year. 

How does it feel to not be able to find a way out? 

When I first visited Shetland on a college placement in the summer of 1996, I remember going walking on my own one Saturday morning on Muckle Roe. It was pre google maps and I didn’t even have a mobile phone. To cut a frightening long story short, I got lost. The sea fret came in. Everywhere looked the same. I lost my bearings. I ended up clambering up hills and wading through bits of water. After what felt for ever, I found the place I began the walk from, but for a while I thought I’d be stuck on the island forever never to be seen again.

I’ve just searched for “Townsend School pool” in images and it makes me feel sick just seeing the picture above! I was the bane of the swimming instructor’s life. I remember in my first year at Townsend School, our PE teacher was Mr Workman. He loved a warm up. 100 widths of the pool! Well, he never bothered with me pathetically in the shallow end. I was last to finish. It takes ages to walk 100 widths!!!

But then it got more serious. Timothy Whiting came into my life. There was a wonderful ITV series years ago called The Grimleys. Brian Conley played the sadistic PE teacher with the catchphrase “I am fit, you are weak!” They’d clearly based the character on my new PE teacher. He started a “Weak Swimmers Group” which he made me attend. Why on earth did I need to put pyjamas on and pick up a brick from the bottom of the pool? He got exasperated with me. So one day, he got all the others round the pool and pushed me in. I went down then up then down again. I thought there was no way out. I’ve not been in a swimming pool since.

Sometimes in life you find yourself in a situation and you have no idea how to get out of it. When like you park your car in a field at a festival and at the end of the day you can’t remember which field you parked it in, you panic. 

Our home in the Fens for my recuperative year looked like it would be wonderful but it’s been anything but. We’ve spent most of the year wondering how we might get out. We’ve found a lovely holiday let until we can move to where we will be living long term, whenever we can move, which is uncertain. 

There are many people struggling with the future as this coronavirus pandemic goes on. One news bulletin can make us weep:

A sister grieving her twin sisters, both nurses in Southampton, who died aged 37, a few days apart.

A pub in Norwich pouring gallons of beer down the drain. The landlord made a film of it going to the soundtrack of “Nearer my God to Thee”, the hymn the band played as the Titanic went down. 

Victims of domestic abuse wanting to get out now. 

People worrying about where their next meal will come from while others fill their trolleys to the brim. This is a real article from the Daily Telegraph from April 18: some parts of our society have to make their own beds!!

How do we see an exit from all of this? I’m glad this isn’t happening in November. The spring colours emerging in our gardens point me to the certainty that this soon will pass. The suffering we face at the moment will one way be followed by joy. We have to believe that. 

Kevin Bridges in a gig on BBC One as I write this has just said “if you believe in God you have to accept the guy is in over his head at the moment.”

Is he? Our belief is that God, in his own time, will show us an exit plan... 

What is God’s exit plan? The Old Testament passage for Sunday is from the prophet Zephaniah: 

 Sing aloud, O daughter Zion;

   shout, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult with all your heart,
   O daughter Jerusalem! 
The Lord has taken away the judgements against you,
   he has turned away your enemies.
The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst;
   you shall fear disaster no more. 
On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem:
Do not fear, O Zion;
   do not let your hands grow weak. 
The Lord, your God, is in your midst,
   a warrior who gives victory;
he will rejoice over you with gladness,
   he will renew you in his love; he will be exulted over you with loud singing as on a day of festival. 

I don’t know what the exit plan is to get us out of this unprecedented crisis. The government says we must rely on the science, that we need to flatten the curve and get past the peak. And now isn’t the time to think about anything but keeping the current restrictions in place. 

My faith though says there is in God, an exit plan. It is a new world, a new community, a dwelling with him that sustains us through the darkness and gives us hope even IN the darkness. There is a lot of trite stuff out there at the moment suggesting we must pray harder and that God has a plan. He might have. But for now we need a God who just helps us hold on and promises us there is a different existence ahead. A better translation of one of the verses in the Zephaniah passage is “ he will quiet you in his love.”

A little book called “Where is God in a coronavirus world?” by Professor John Lennox, has just been published. It’s sold out on Amazon! In the introduction he quotes the Italian journalist Mattia Ferraresi who wrote this in a New York Times article in March:

“Holy water is not a hand sanitiser, and prayer is not a vaccine. But for believers, religion is a fundamental source of spiritual healing and hope. It’s a remedy against despair, providing psychological and mental support that is an integral part to well being.” 

Those of us in Christian pastoral work are ministering to people who want to see a way out. They want their fears listened to, they need support and to know they are held in the in the uncertainty of now, and they need to be reminded of the hope we have that the future will not be like today. 

I think when we come back as church as we knew it (if we ever do) our priority will not be strategies how to grow but basic, loving, crying, patient, incarnational pastoral care. All of us will need tune and travelling companions to get past this. We need a way out and it will take time to see it. 

My friend Paula sent me this quote from Pope Francis the other day. We may not have an exit strategy but we live believing a new future will come. We live in the Kingdom of God which is now and not yet. We hold each other in the uncertainty. We live for others. As we love, we never know what being there for others may mean for them - being at peace rather than lost and perpetually anxious. 

I don’t know when and how this pandemic will end. For now we hold on. We give our worries to God, believing that he cares. That’s all we can do at the moment. Dettol is not the answer! 

I have a pile of books next to me at the moment. One is “A Pilgrim in Durham Cathedral” by Michael Sadgrove. With few answers, he offers us a prayer adapted from the Mozarabic Sacramentary in the 7th century: how do we get out of this? We aren’t sure. But we give the question to God and ask to be held...

I’m glad people are finding my blogs and my new vlog while rambling helpful. I am pleased I can encourage you in this time, and we can share when we struggle. I’ll do two blogs a week now, one midweek and another before each Sunday. I’ll also do a vlog now once a week. The last one will be from the inside of one of my churches to be, whenever I can do that. For now, here’s that prayer and one of my favourite quotes from the fabulous “Coming of God” by Maria Boulding - a book everyone should have on their shelves.  

Lord Jesus our Master, go with us while we travel to the heavenly country; that, following your light, we may not wander in the darkness of this world’s night, while you, who are our way and truth and life, shine within us to our journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

We had hoped: Easter as a process

I posted my first ever vlog on Monday morning as I walked along this road. The reaction to it has really surprised me. It has been viewed by over a hundred people and I’ve had some lovely comments saying it “hit the spot” for those who watched. If I do it again it must be less windy and I must try and look at the camera more! I’m now more than ever in awe of those who are providing worship and bible study live from where they are over the internet.

 

On Monday I walked for about an hour and thought about the journey two demoralised disciples took after Jesus’ crucifixion back home twelve miles as the sun set to Emmaus. I used the Northumbrian word “plodging” to describe how they walked. 

Here is a picture of the the pilgrim posts on Holy Island. A lot of people make the pilgrimage bare foot across the sands to the island. It’s hard work, and slow as your feet sink into the wet sand. 

The Urban Dictionary definition is this:

 "To paddle or wade in water."

"Ah went to the beach for a plodge in the sea up to me knees but didn't bother coz the watter was too cad (cold) for plodging."

Common usage in NE England dialect.

Another dictionary says it means to plunge; to wade through water, mud, etc.; to walk laboriously over soft ground or through undergrowth, etc.; to trudge.

So imagine these two dejected souls trudging, plodging back home, their hearts broken. William Barclay in his commentary on Luke’s Gospel says that “ Emmaus was west of Jerusalem. The sun was sinking and the setting sun so dazzled them they did not know their Lord. However that may be, it is true that the Christian is a person who walks not towards the sunset but towards the sunrise. Long ago it was said to the children of Israel that they journeyed in the wilderness towards the sun rising. 

The Christian goes onward, not to a night which falls, but to a dawn which breaks - and that is what, in their sorrow and disappointment, the two on the Emmaus road had not realised.” 

I see Barclay’s idea about the setting sun blinding them but I’m not convinced by that stopping them recognising Jesus. Here’s what I think: 

The sun had set on everything they had dreamed of. It’s a clever piece of dramatic writing by Luke to have them plodge heavily home... they had absolutely no thought that Jesus might be alive. Yes, some women had a story but... 

Imagine walking in absolute depression and in shock and perhaps crying and maybe with a bit of anger you’ve wasted your time, seven long miles back from where you’ve been hurt to the safety of your house. From our (temporary) front door just north of Sutton Bridge to where we used to go to church in Tydd St Giles is seven miles. To plodge it would take some time. 

The stranger joined them. 

“You mustn’t talk to strangers!” But they did.

“What are you talking about as you walk?”

“We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel.”

I’ve just listened to the most recent “Three Vicars Talking” on Radio 4. It’s a refreshing chat giving Christianity an honest and fun approach through Richard Coles, Kate Bottley and Giles Fraser. Giles Fraser suggested in the programme that hope is defiance. It is believing that something will happen. It is acting often counter culturally to what is going on around you, it is just knowing it: 

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” 

Imagine you are those travellers: Cleopas and his friend or maybe his wife... on your plodge home what is it that you had hoped? How does it feel to have all your hopes dead? 

“We had hoped.” 

We had hoped that at last we would have peace in our country, we had hoped he might live up to his promises, we had hoped we had a future, we had hoped that things might go right for us for a chance. 

“We had hoped.”

I am struggling with the daily number of deaths flashed on the television screen every day like the people who have died are a statistic. 

“We must flatten the curve.”

“We might have reached the peak.”

“To come out of this with 20,000 deaths will be a good result.” 

I was so sad to hear a relative of a 26 year old nurse without proper PPE in the nursing home she worked in comment on losing her that she was far too young to die. Hopes have gone for so many people. Never let us see those who have lost their lives as a statistic. When this is over, we will need to have a lot of memorial services. We need to allow people to express their grief appropriately. The pastoral work in months to come will be huge. 

As they walked, the two discussed the events of those last days, dissecting them from every angle. Searching for answers. How could their hopes and dreams have turned to ashes?

”We had hoped.”  The language of broken hearts. 

The American writer and theologian Frederick Buechner says, “Emmaus is where we go, where these two went, to try to forget about Jesus and the great failure of his life.” 

Where is your Emmaus? Where do you go when all hopes are dashed, when you are so deeply, deeply disappointed that it is impossible to speak in the future tense? It’s here, in this place of deepest despair, the risen Jesus appears. He appears as a stranger and enters into the conversation. 

So here’s my point about this story: there are a million and one blogs I could write about it. 

I love the fact that Jesus joins in the conversation. If you read the stories of Jesus in the four Gospels he always joins people where they are.  Blind beggars, a woman caught in adultery, a complacent congregation in his home synagogue, potential disciples by a lakeside, a grieving father, a thief next to him on a cross, a weeping friend coming to his tomb... 

I love the fact that for several miles, he took time with these souls who were absolutely wrung out mentally and physically. He took time to explain stuff to them. Pastoral care in our churches especially at the moment has to be one person at a time. People today, like those travellers, need patient care. They have questions about what is going on. We all need our questions and our fears  dealing with. 

“That’s a very good question!” says Mr Hancock.

And we scream at the telly “Well, answer it then!”

And because we can’t get answers we feel void of hope. We want to trust. We know the government is facing a shitstorm no one would have the answers to, but...

I love the fact that even though this very wise man was full of knowledge about Jesus and stuff, they still did not know who he was. They plodged with him for seven miles. When did he join them? A few miles in? Was he social distancing? (!!) And yet despite still not recognising him they invited him to stay the night... had they a bed made up? Hospitality to strangers, remember, was a huge thing back then. And it still should be... 

I love the fact that Jesus was recognised as he broke bread. The two of them must have known about the last supper. I miss communion! I miss giving communion to a congregation. I last did it on 15 March at Terrington St John Methodist Church to four ladies. I guess I will next do it in the appointment I am meant to be beginning in the autumn. We recognise Jesus in the breaking of bread as we kneel to receive it or if we are clergy people, we place it in the hands of the people we are charged to care for. 

At the moment we are having to fast from the sacrament and we are encouraged to have “spiritual communion” together. Those times when we eat together can be times when, in the middle of what we do, we recognise the risen Lord, as the two did in their home. 

The picture above was taken in the library of Marygate House on Holy Island, today, four years ago. I fell in love with my now wife over cheese in that room when it was just the two of us in there when others had gone. I wasn’t expecting to start a new relationship again after a divorce, I wasn’t expecting to propose to her seven months later! I fought it this week four years ago, but I now know, even with bumpy bits and now in lockdown in a small space we really DRIVE EACH OTHER MAD, the risen Lord, who promises new life out of death, and hope out of despair, was there for us both as we broke bread... 

This resurrection story is one for us in this anxious time as we see no end yet to this unprecedented crisis. 

We need space to plodge out the hopes we think are dead and buried. 

We need time to talk about where we are. We need someone who will walk our walk with us.    

We need to be surprised. In our lockdown and mental anguish, where will the divine be recognised? 

And then, well, will we run back seven miles to share what has happened to us? (When that’s allowed again!)

The Emmaus road story is our story. Read it for yourself - Luke 24: 13 - 35. It is a story of hope recovered. I love it! And now, I’m polishing off some cheese to celebrate where new life began again for me four years ago. The joy of the walk away from all we think has destroyed us, is that you never know what might happen on that journey to open your minds to new possibilities. 

Easter promises: the sun will come out again.

I’ve noticed a change of mood in people this past week. This lockdown I think we kidded ourselves was only going to be short, so we’d get through it by doing those things we never had time to do round the house, use up all the things we’d forgotten about in the pantry and have interesting meals, watch box sets, do PE with Joe in the morning, watch worship on line, get some permitted exercise once a day. 

Now, we’ve been told the lockdown is for at least another three weeks, we are not feeling it will be lifted then, we are hearing horrific stories from those serving us in the NHS and care sector, not just with huge numbers dying every day, but them working dangerously without the amount of protective equipment they need, we are playing Downing Street press briefing steep stake each day guessing who will sent out to not answer questions, we are facing up to our long term plans, some of which were huge life changes, having to be put on hold, we are going slowly mad looking forward to knowing who will win Four in a Bed (it was the Crown Inn in Grewelthorpe this week, I’ll have a church next door to it soon...) and we get hooked on Belgravia, which has absolutely no plot whatsoever except ooh, what has Lady Brocklehurst to do with Mr Pope? (I can’t cope with Philip Glenister in a period drama. He’ll always be Gene Hunt to me. I keep expecting him to say in period costume “fire up the Quattro!”) 

I am noticing people are getting tired and anxious, we need encouragement to keep going. Games you can play keep coming: like this:

Or this...

This week we’ve been moved by a 99 year old army captain Tom Moore who wanted to raise £1000 for the NHS by walking 100 laps of his garden before his 100th birthday at the end of the month. He’s become an icon for us to keep going through this crisis, not just because he has raised £23 million but because he’s encouraging us in our worry and our fear. 

It’s rather fun that the competition for the top spot in the charts next Friday will be between We’ll meet again which Vera Lynn and Katherine Jenkins have recorded, and You’ll never walk alone which is Captain Tom and Michael Ball’s record to raise more funds for our beleaguered NHS. 

The song was written for the 1945 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Carousel. In the second act of the musical, the character of Nettie Fowler, a cousin of the main character Julie Jordan, sings 'You'll Never Walk Alone' to comfort her when her husband Billy dies. It’s a song to lift us when we are feeling at rock bottom. I love Carousel, it’s a brilliant musical. 

What has Easter to do with where we find ourselves this week? I think if we are honest we are full of fear, how do we get out of this, are we safe before they find a vaccine, can I move house, will I start work again in a few months, will people stop dying, will lovely businesses we liked to support, survive, will my mental health survive being unable to go out and see people for a long time? We miss our cats! It’s nice one comes to see us, but ours have now been in a cattery since the beginning of February. Poor Velvet! 

I think if we are honest we feel like the disciples in the upper room locked in and wondering whether life can begin again. I read an article this morning saying couples will get closer in this time. The writer wrote “I don’t want to get closer to him, he’s only two metres away and he keeps watching old episodes of Kojak!”

I’ve been thinking about death. What will death be like? We are living through a time when many people are living in fear, fear of an invisible enemy which could catch up with any one of us, and especially those who are more vulnerable, whose health is weak. As with those first disciples in the upper room, it’s a fear of the unknown, of forces beyond our control.

The disciples time with Jesus had been a great adventure, now they were recovering from betrayal, denial and desertion. They were afraid for their lives. And we may find ourselves there right now - we look at the devastation of our lives and feel utterly abandoned and forsaken by God. 

It’s been my testimony over the last year or so that when I’ve needed God to speak into exactly where I am, that word has come, it’s often been at  an evensong but when I’ve not been able to get to an evensong, it’s come through the passages given to me in daily prayer in the lectionary. So I offer you three passages:

Psalm 145

Song of Solomon 8: 5 - 7

Mark 16: 9 - 15 

Look at what God says to us in our fear.

“The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all those who are bowed down. The eyes of all wait upon you, O Lord, and you give them their food in due season.”

We will be upheld, lifted up, given food in due season. Enough. 

“Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.”

Love is never destroyed. There’s another verse isn’t there? “Perfect love casts out all fear.”

“And all that had been commanded them they told briefly to those around Peter. And afterwards Jesus himself sent out through them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation.”

The shorter ending of Mark’s Gospel added because the early church couldn’t cope with women running away in terror from the empty tomb, has the risen Jesus’ promise to us in fear and lockdown and worry. The sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation. It’s what he proclaims to us right where we are mentally and sends us to proclaim to others. 

That’s where the Church is at the moment through its kindness. 

That’s where Captain Tom has been this week. He’s said the sun will come out again! That’s why a song to comfort tears from an old musical speaks to us. 

That’s where we are in our closest relationships which are keeping us together — they are imperishable (we hope!) 

We refurbished a lounge in my time as the minister at Trinity Storrington and put some modern art in the room which proved to be very controversial. The paintings were by John Reilly. I love this one. It’s called “Refuge” - look at where we are in relation to Jesus. We are held. 

What does the risen Christ say to demoralised disciples and to us in 2020? 

 “Peace be with you”

“Do not be afraid”

“Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

It’s okay to say we are not alright today. We hold on together. But Easter faith is that all will be well one day. It will! 

I picked up some books earlier, one of which is by Katharine Smith, a lay reader at Wells Cathedral. 

She writes this: 

“Life will probably feel dark and scary. Sometimes it’s true that our world is at its darkest just before dawn - but the dawn is on its way. Easter Day will dawn for each of us, from our Gethsemane and Golgotha to our Easter Garden.”

(“Recovering from Depression: A Companion Guide for Christians, SPCK, 2014)

Here’s another way to look at it. I sat and marvelled at the colours on this tree this afternoon. They weren’t there a few weeks ago. This hymn came to me. It is what we will need to remember as we cope with this lockdown for however long we need to...  

“When our hearts are wintry, grieving, or in pain, then your touch can call us back to life again,

Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:

Love is come again like wheat that springs up green.”

So many doubts and questions

 

Here’s a little sermon for the Sunday after Easter, using John 20: 19 - 31 

It’s very easy as we continue to lockdown to waste time! I was on Twitter on Monday and followed a conversation between parents of very little children about “In The Night Garden”. 

“Why do the Wottingers get so much less air time than the Pontipines?” 

”They’re hide and seek experts and need to hone their craft. Plus living next door to a family of 10 Pontipines in a semi detached must get on your wick, no?”

“Don’t get me started. I posted very similarly a couple of years back on how the ninkynonk is clearly inferior to the pinkyponk, yet gets all the eps.  There’s no justice.”

“Well done to the Wottingers for staying in, I say!”

Huge questions that need answering keep our heads spinning. We have time to worry about them. Each day we watch journalists ask big questions of political leaders. Some are answered. Others are fudged. There was an amazing press briefing with President Trump earlier this week. He turned on a woman who dared challenge him calling her a disgrace, and full of fake news. Our nightly briefing isn’t as heated. I have to say of all those who come out and brief us the most caring of them is Rishi Sunak. At least he doesn’t treat us like children and might care that this will be tough for a while yet. 

We ask questions of each other in our daily routine: 

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Is it time for lunch?”

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Have we got any biscuits?”

We should encourage questions and we should press those who are meant to answer them or at least tell us they don’t know the answer. Not asking questions can get us in a mess. At school I was so painfully shy I would never ask questions when I didn’t get it. So on school reports I would have written, “I wish Ian would ask for help if he is stuck!” I guess I thought I would look silly if everyone else got it and I didn’t. 

I love the poem by Steve Turner:

“Do you need to go to the toilet when you are dead?

Does God grow old?

Life is full of unanswered questions when you are five years old and late for school.”

I wonder what the disciples who’d seen Jesus in the upper room thought of Thomas. We are told “Thomas wasn’t there” when Jesus appeared to them for the first time. Where was he? I’ve always wondered that. 

Whatever, he is there later, and the other disciples are excited and want to tell him what he missed. He’s given a cruel nickname “doubting Thomas” but you know what, I think he’s great because he isn’t afraid to ask questions and be hesitant to believe. 

“Unless I see.... I will not believe.”

“Unless I see....” I need to see it myself. 

Sidney Carter wrote this a long time ago: 

”Your holy hearsay is not evidence
Give me the good news in the present tense
What happened nineteen hundred years ago
May not have happened
How am I to know?

The living truth is what I long to see 
I cannot lean upon what used to be
So shut the bible up and show me how
The Christ you talk about
Is living now.”

This hymn also is full of where Thomas is..

Don’t tell me of a faith that fears
To face the world around
Don’t dull my mind with easy thoughts
of grace without a ground.

Don’t speak of piety and prayers
Absolved from human need;
Don’t talk of spirit without flesh
Like harvest without seed.

Don’t sate my soul with common sense
Distilled from ages past
Inept for those who fear the world’s
about to breathe its last.

Don’t set the cross before my eyes
unless you tell the truth
of how the Lord, who finds the lost,
was often found uncouth.

So let the Gospel come alive
in actions plain to see
in imitation of the one
whose love extends to me.

I need to know that God is real!
I need to know that Christ can feel
the need to touch and love and heal
the world, including me.

I love the fact in this story that Jesus gives Thomas space to receive what he needs. The testimony of others isn’t enough. He needs to see Jesus alive for himself. He had invested too much in the Jesus project that it hurt him it was over. Remember when most of the disciples urged Jesus not to go to Jerusalem it was him who said “let us also go with him that we might die with him.” He wants to know it for himself. This could be a wind up. No one survives a brutal crucifixion like that. 

Jesus tells Thomas to see and to feel his wounds. Then he shouts out the first post resurrection statement of belief: “My Lord and my God!”

Sometimes people need time to believe something and more than that, they need to see why they should believe it. Thomas isn’t a weak disciple - he’s like me. He wants to sort it all out in his head before he can move on. 

I’m beginning to put together the first chapter of my book which is all about saints on our journey who’ve helped me to believe, through their example. The people who’ve been important in my faith development are the ones who’ve showed me what genuine Christianity is, have accepted me when I’ve had all sorts of questions, and have shown me Jesus through how they live. 

I remember the little plaque in the pulpit of the little church I grew up in. It said “Sir, we would see Jesus.” Reminding the preacher of his or her task to convince the congregation in front of them of the heart of the Gospel: Jesus alive! I never found   preaching at The Folly chapel easy as all of the gathered congregation were related to me! I’d get from my mother a post mortem:

“Why did you pick that hymn?”

“Why did you say that?!”

There are a lot of questions as this Covid-19 virus continues to spread. Being in what we will know by Sunday will be a longer lockdown is hard. I’ve struggled this week. The implications of having questions about moving and the future which cannot be answered is crippling. But all I want from those guiding us through this unprecedented crisis is honesty. 

Mr Johnson, when you are better, Mr Hancock, Mr Raab, and even Ms Patel if they dare bring her out again, please answer the question and if you cannot, don’t give me bluster, say you don’t know. Can we have Rishi Sunak every day? Please? 

What do I learn from this passage? That questions are okay. Let’s encourage each other to ask them. Let our churches be places of honest conversation and gentle patience with those who don’t get it yet... And let’s return to being communities which show those who are questioning by our deeds of the truth of the risen Jesus. There is so much in this crisis which is happening which is of God, as people care for each other. I pray it will be the norm when we are able to do what we did before we had to stay home.

For now, returning to where I started these thoughts, in the Night Garden there is a question that needs answering: 

“Who’s not in bed?”

“Iggle Piggle’s not in bed!”

Spiritual landmarks on the journey

Those of you who’ve been asking when I’m going to write my book on journeying will be glad to know that at last I’m starting to write it. I’m going to call it “I wouldn’t start from here if I were you: a reflection on honest journeys.” There will be chapters with these headings:

1. The journey makes us what we are: where have we come from and what has the journey done to us? 
2. Journeying with traditions 
3. Journeying with the Psalter 
4. Journeying in Shetland
5. Journeying on Holy Island
6. Journeying through illness 
7. Journeying through Holy Week lockdown 
8. The ongoing journey: finding faith to keep going 

I’m now putting the first chapter together thinking about the holy places I’ve passed through since I was born. It’s something you might like to think about for yourself. Find a picture of the church and think what memory comes into your mind. Here goes then - strap yourself in - I’ve been in a lot of them in 53 years! Where are the places and the people in them that make us who we are?

Times when we are aware of the closeness of God are sometimes called ‘thin places’ (an expression which comes from the Celtic and Northumberland Christian traditions). ‘Thin places’ are those occasions when the veil drawn between us and God seems especially thin. These are often not in a church building. I’ve found God more powerfully in creation than in church when church has been bad!

But in starting out this writing journey, I begin by thanking God for the times when church has had those saints in her who have through their example shown me something of Christ. As I reflect on what has stayed with me from the places above, it is times when each of them have stopped worrying about the mundane and have taken risks pointing their communities to the Kingdom.