Being companions

Passage for reflection: Matthew 14: 13 - 21

I have big news this week: we had two take away pizzas on Wednesday evening! Our first venture anywhere near a shop since the middle of March. There’s a pizza take away in Sutton Bridge and it’s the best pizza I’ve ever tasted. We didn’t have to go in the shop. The man brought the pizzas out to the car. Mine was a “hot hot hot” - 14 inches of heaven! 

Lis said to me as I was about five slices in:

“Are you going to eat the lot in one go?”

“Yep!” I said. 

Our diet in lockdown has been pretty good apart from bad days when we’ve downed crisps and we’ve had a bar of chocolate a week, but mostly we are good. But on Wednesday night we just wanted pizza! It’s been a long time.

Of course, my stuffing all the slices is contrary to the heart of the Christian Gospel. To look after your own hunger only is contrary to the heart of the Christian Gospel. We are called to be companions. It’s helpful when we are trying to work out what we should be doing to remember what the word companion literally means. It means “one who shares bread.” I believe that is our call. To share bread with each other. 

So the Gospel for this Sunday is the famous story of the feeding of the five thousand. A large hungry crowd arrive to see Jesus. We have a God moment where human need and divine attention meet. All are fed, and there is food left over! 

There are, if you read the passage in Matthew’s Gospel three imperatives about Christian service and generous giving. This story reminds us in the end for life to be complete, it isn’t just about me and my pizza, it is about making sure others have some too, and there being more to give. The more generous we are the healthier we will be. I did, if I’m honest, feel a bit ill after fourteen inches of pepperoni!

What are the fundamentals of being companions?

1. Jesus saw the crowd and its need and he had compassion on them. There’s another word we need to know the literal meaning of: “to suffer with.” Jesus had gone for a bit of a rest but he saw the crowd and was moved to try and help them because he felt their pain in his gut. How compassionate are we when we see suffering? Do we say “it’s not our problem”? Or are we moved to reach out and enter the suffering of another even if it means personal cost to us? 

If we are genuine Christian people and deserve the name, then we need to remember a bit of Christology! Jesus suffered with his people enough to go to a cross for them. Jesus suffered with his people shedding blood and enduring pain. Sometimes Christianity isn’t easy or pretty. 

The call on us at this mad time still, is to meet the pain of the crowd. Not that crowds of five thousand will be meeting any time soon. But there’s a crowd of need around us. It’s being fed by the Church and kindness and compassion, practically and spiritually. There are amazing stories where actually though not meeting in a building, the Church has been more alive and relevant. Compassion takes time. It’s a difficult world. We are in a storm that doesn’t feel like it is going away. So people need help...

2. There’s a bit in the version of this episode Matthew tells where the disciples get in a two and eight about what they see. A huge crowd desperately hungry and not enough food. 

“How are we going to feed all these people? We have only five loaves and two fish.” You can hear them laughing, almost thinking “solve this then Jesus!”

Jesus says “bring them here to me.”

Here’s another huge Gospel truth. So often we think what we can offer is inadequate. It won’t be enough. It isn’t good enough. It will be laughed at. Others will be able to give more. I’ve always used this “we have only” thinking to encourage small churches in my ministry. Often just something very small, one little idea which feels insignificant can turn into a miracle when in the hands of Jesus. Jesus took the bread and the fish and blessed them. Then something amazing happened. All ate, five thousand men plus women and children. Twelve basketfuls were left over. I wonder what happened to the leftovers? Maybe this episode also teaches us to give our best. We are reticent as society mocks us and puts us down. But we need to give what we can and leave what happens to God. Let’s have some faith we can make a difference... 

3.  Finally we note “all were filled.”

I imagine there was a party spirit around Jesus as people ate together. What was the chat about? Did people share deep stuff together? We are not told how long this food sharing lasted. 

We miss as churches eating together, good old bring and share. We miss the renewing power of Holy Communion, where we are fed as a community with the life of Christ. Some people are now eating out together in restaurants again. Others are meeting together for afternoon tea in gardens at a safe distance. Sharing food together and taking time over it can build relationships. We do miss our favourite Indian eatery at Tydd Gote but we aren’t safe yet to eat out.

How do we fill each other with spiritual food at a time when how we used to do this cannot yet be? 

How do I minister compassionately and pastorally in September to my new flock spread across Ripon and the Lower Dales? I’ve decided this sermon will continue to be written and can go out by e mail each week; I’ll keep going my filmed reflections which over 200 people watch every week; I intend to book appointments to meet people in their gardens, and I’ll offer Zoom worship and groups maybe... and I’ll certainly be using the phone a lot for some good getting to know you conversations. I’m acutely aware of deep need in every community as this wretched virus keeps doing its stuff. No wonder Brian Blessed swore at it on live telly this week!! We’ve all had enough. Some people can only talk about coronavirus. We need to keep safe -  “hands, face, space” the latest PM catchphrase - but we have to have other things to think about. But I’m

also aware people need to talk about where they find themselves before they can move on.

A crowd, a compassionate Jesus, enough to satisfy everyone and more to be shared afterwards. A church that is open handed, companions and compassionate, is a glimpse of the heart of God. A pizza is for all. (So sorry I had it all!) Isaiah in the Old Testament reminds us of what we are meant to be: what is our purpose?

“Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, to bring the poor and homeless into your house, to clothe the naked when you see them, and not to ignore your own flesh and blood?”

A prayer:

Generous and compassionate Christ, come to us in our hunger, need and overwhelming moments when we haven’t enough in us to get through the day. Feed us what we need to be restored again. 

Companion Christ, call your Church again to be bread sharers, giving strength to the poor and forgotten of the world, being community so there are no haves and have nots.

Suffering Christ, when we think we suffer alone, point us to your cross. As we watch you there, draw us to you. You get where we are and your suffering mysteriously heals us. 

Loving Christ, feed us, and through us, feed others. Amen. 

 

Believing in the Kingdom

Passage for reflection: Matthew 13, verses 31-33 & 44- 52

This Sunday’s Gospel reading is all about seeing the Kingdom of God as a possibility and working for its coming even if everyone thinks you are mad! 

I continue to reflect on spirituality in this time of pandemic. As some churches have reopened, others are considering reopening after an extensive risk assessment, and others are still saying it isn’t the right time yet, it would be easy to concentrate on buildings being only where God can be met and is at work.

But what is becoming more and more clear to me is that God has been using this uncertain time when everything has been abruptly taken away that we have relied on for our spirituality to keep alive, largely corporate worship and receiving communion, to show us he is at work in new ways if we will only look for them. 

I’m very frightened about the thought of enclosed spaces reopening and being the leader of congregations in them, face coverings and all, no singing and no chatting after the service! I’m very excited about different ways of offering spirituality and being community. I’m hearing stories of deep theological conversations on the phone, pastoral care amongst church people, some of whom have hardly spoken before, creative ways of sharing worship on line and in print, prayers offered when people dial a hotline for them, and many many practical examples of concern and involvement at a safe distance in the locality of churches where ministry should be.

So while some need and want to go back to the church meeting together physically with all that involves, there are others (like me who has been told to shield for the last four months) who would rather think differently at least for now.

 I do believe we will need a varied diet of activity at least until they find a vaccine and that feels okay. But how I get to meet the good folk of eight churches in six week’s time goodness only knows. I’d wondered about folk booking a time to meet me outside in each community by appointment! And how will my welcome service on September 6 be? I’ve wondered whether we can livestream it from a church car park! Anything is possible! :) 

I guess we have to again ask what the Church is for. Is it a thing that is an end in itself, or is it the tool through which God’s Kingdom is heralded? Do we “do Church” in order to “be Kingdom people?” 

There have been days during lockdown that I’ve lost focus and haven’t felt like doing anything, I just sit on the sofa and watch the news roll round and round until it drains me, or I just sit and eat snacks! On better days, I have been active, largely writing sermons for each Sunday, producing other reflective on line material and getting my book written (17,000 + words now in three and a bit chapters!)

 I’m now energised by the prospect of a new appointment coming even if how I minister in it will be very different. While it would be easy to dwell on what I don’t feel safe doing, I’m trying to see how much I can do, forming relationships and discerning, with others, what God might be up to. I’m convinced, you know, that God might be doing something exciting ahead of us, or even right now. Maybe while none of us wanted a global pandemic, it’s given all of us time to stop, think, recreate, and reassess. Some talk of “getting back to normal” - but normal wasn’t working, so why would we want to go back there? 

The hymn says “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God” - there used to be an agenda item for Church Councils called “the work of God.” I’ve been in meetings where God has hardly been mentioned, and certainly not any discussion on his activity! What if now we are called to seek his Kingdom? What if we are called to be mad and radical and risk takers? What if today we let go of what was, keeping what is still precious, but working faithfully to catch up with God’s intentions and surprises, believing something is going to happen? 

So, the Gospel passage for Sunday has four little pictures of utter insanity in human terms but spiritual alertness and passion that sees a different future.

First, we have a farmer planting mustard seed, tiny, yet capable of growing into a huge plant. It will become massive! How fab is it that God’s Kingdom is about small beginnings. The faith in planting something minuscule, sowing little seeds, means we believe in the future. Never decry small acts of kindness - nor small churches that just love their people and those around them. 

Then we have yeast a woman takes and kneads into dough until it is leavened. Yeast is microscopic in size, and only a little is kneaded into the dough. But given time, it spreads. Remember Jesus only started his work with twelve people. Remember also yeast grows from within, so God can change us, and I believe communities can be changed as genuine Christianity works within a culture as an agent of change, slowly changing things from within. Surely a call to us to get involved in things where we live that AREN’T CHURCH !!!

Then we have “treasure hidden in a field.” It lies undiscovered, though available to anyone. Some seek it, persistently. Others may suddenly find it, but when they do, they discover the worth and the joy of recognising God’s love and purpose for them, their joy is overwhelming.

And finally, there’s the “pearl ... of great prIce”. It’s the one thing that provokes utter longing in the one who has heard of it and is willing to surrender everything to possess it.

So the Kingdom starts small.

The Kingdom grows from within slowly.

The Kingdom is to be discovered and unearthed.

The Kingdom is to be enjoyed! 

How about when we reopen buildings we put the Kingdom first? How about we celebrate in what we are able to do now that the Kingdom is being heralded through those things? 

How can we be a radical Kingdom heralding Church again, looking for it, anticipating it and enjoying its values again?

The theologian Fred Craddock maintained that when a church dies, most often it dies of amnesia. It forgets who it is and what it is. It forgets that “church” is a verb, ever growing and changing and doing and going and questioning and trying and laughing and lamenting and celebrating and crying and being.

 A church is a reminder to the world of the presence of Christ and an invitation to be a bit bonkers and think outrageously as we see God’s future together: faithfully planting seeds, kneading yeast, looking for treasure and wanting the precious love of Jesus with us always. 

We worry about the future, of course we do. Can we keep going as a Church? We worry in these times about being safe, so we mask ourselves up and keep our distance from others in case we get infected. But beyond this time as we come out of it one day, can we get some enthusiasm again to discern and see and find the divine in our midst? I hope so. And can we, even while the hard things of the world still hurt, herald that some things might be about to change? 

This Sunday be challenged. Think bigger. Where can God be found? My beloved late college principal Graham Slater used to get very excited about Wolfhart Pannenberg. We used to get tales of “when Wolfie came to dinner” at college a lot! Maybe Pannenberg hits the nail on the head here:

“Because God is the creator of everything and will be the redeemer of everything, theology has to be concerned with everything.”

Like planters and cooks and treasure seekers and coveters of great pearls, whether we make the effort is up to us. But be warned, God won’t stop working. We will just be left behind. Wouldn’t that be desperate? 

Heaven in ordinary

Passage for reflection: Exodus 3: 1 - 6

This Sunday has been designated by the Arthur Rank Centre, the fabulous folk who co ordinate rural work for the Church of England, the Methodist Church and the United Reformed Church, as Rural Mission Sunday. 

The theme for this year is “Heaven in Ordinary” and the material you can use to prepare worship includes these questions:

How do you experience God in the ordinariness of your day?

How have you experienced God in the past few months?

What may have helped you to glimpse holy ground 

Whatever you choose to do, we would encourage you to think about the people and places where you have experienced ‘heaven in ordinary’. Where have you seen God at work in unusual or unexpected ways and how can you celebrate and give thanks for that, or create space for remembrance or lament?

It is my conviction that when we least expect it, God breaks into his world to confront us with the challenge of his presence, or to comfort us when we are at a low ebb or are journeying wearily in our own strength, reminding us we are not alone. 

This week, I’ve continued to struggle with the ongoing scenario we find ourselves in. I had to have a blood test at the local hospital in Wisbech on Wednesday afternoon. We haven’t been out, apart from my walks along the road and to sort the house we had to leave, since the middle of March. We certainly haven’t interacted with people. Being amongst people in the waiting room for the blood tests was surreal and unpleasant. There we sat, on chairs two metres apart, all in masks, and in silence. I couldn’t wait to get out. I sat and wondered whether we will ever move on from this bizarre and frightening time. 

But the road along which I live has brought me comfort and peace and heaven in ordinary alongside my horrible hospital experience. Looking at the colours of the sky and the vastness of the fields was a healing moment, like God breaking in again with a powerful reminder that what we struggle with today will not have the last word. 

The people of God at the beginning of the book of Exodus found themselves like us in a strange and uncomfortable place where they saw no way out. Moses was keeping the flock of his father in law when suddenly he was confronted with the mystery of a burning bush. Imagine that! And we know, out of the bush, the mighty God spoke to him, reminded him of the faith story that had past, reminded him he was on holy ground “take off your shoes” and reminded him there can be another way - and Moses was to help it happen! 

Coming out slowly from lockdown, churches are asking whether they can open buildings again. Some Methodist churches are open having done a risk assessment, others are saying it isn’t the right time to reopen as they aren’t ready, others are choosing to keep putting their energy into on line worship, pastoral care by phone or in gardens  and community outreach, others are desperate to be open and are finding being told they can’t because they cannot meet the Covid safe criteria, and sadly I heard today some may be choosing not to open again ever. That’s so sad. 

If there has been any good for the Church in this period it is that we’ve been given time to ask questions about what we are for and what matters. I also heard today of a little church that has opened. There are twelve of them. They have twelve socially distanced chairs. The steward has turned into a very strict headmistress. You have to raise your hand to ask to go to the toilet and she barks at you “wash your hands” and after the service, which she leads as they don’t want preachers, she barks at anyone who dares to talk to anyone in the building or outside it. No one outside the twelve must know the service is happening as they can’t have more people turning up. I just wonder where God is in all of this? It sounds like my hospital waiting room rather than a joyful gathering anticipating God showing heaven in ordinary. Doesn’t it? 

On a Sunday we celebrate the rural Church, I believe a small group of Christians in a village can, unlike that story I’ve just told, be a reminder that God breaks in to where we are, and shows us in our lives today there can be a bit of heaven right beside us. I yearn for the Church to be the hub of every community, that small group to be known as people who build heaven on earth and have a vision of what can be. 

When George Herbert tried to describe prayer in a poem, he wrote of “heaven in ordinary.”’ 

Prayer the church's banquet, angel's age, 

God's breath in man returning to his birth, 

The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, 

The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth 

Engine against th' Almighty, sinner's tow'r, 

Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, 

The six-days world transposing in an hour, 

A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear; 

Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, 

Exalted manna, gladness of the best, 

Heaven in ordinary, man well drest, 

The milky way, the bird of Paradise, 

Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul’s blood, 

The land of spices; something understood.

For the Christian, there is a vast Other, “Churchbells beyond the stars heard.”

 That heaven cannot be reduced to confines of our own devising...

And like Moses received a call, so the Church must reach out beyond the Church. There is something heavenly in being willing to engage with others’ ordin­­ary lives. The purpose of consecrating sacred places — churches, shrines, holy ground — is not to desacralise the rest of the world, but the reverse. God, in Christian belief, is in the kitchen, in the pub, at the bus stop. Celtic Christians had prayers for making the bed or doing the washing, remember! 

How do we remind people of the presence of God?

Are we prepared to stop what we’ve always done and see what God might be saying to us? We may have to leave what we think previous behind in order to embrace the new thing God wants to show us. 

Are our churches holy ground which enable people to stand in the presence of God? And are we ready to take off our shoes and spend more time on worship and prayer rather than the things that really don’t matter now. 

I like this prayer for Rural Mission Sunday:

Creator God,

there is so much that is strange in our lives at present. Help us to pay attention to your creation,

so that we may see you in the common and everyday.

Shepherd Jesus,

as we walk through this rapidly changing world,

help us to know you walk with us.

If our path runs through the valley of the shadow

may we see your light and know your comfort as you lead us.

Comforting Spirit,

as we go about our ordinary lives, surprise us with glimpses of holy ground.

Blessed Trinity, Creator, Shepherd, Spirit, surround us with you love, now and always.

You shall go out with joy...

Passage for reflection: Isaiah 55: 10 - 13

I loved the fact when the new Archbishop of York was installed this week he did something very different with his crozier. Apparently it is usual for the new Archbishop to knock on the door of the minster to gain access. Instead, the Archbishop knocked on the door from the inside to say very clearly the task of the Church and ministry is to go out... out into the world. And outside, he talked about us needing to not just talk about God but live in him. He called it “living the good things.” Great stuff!

I’ve chosen to reflect on the Old Testament reading for this Sunday from Isaiah 55. The last chapters of the book of Isaiah were written at a time when the people of God were picking up the pieces after a national disaster. Their lives had been uprooted when the Babylonians had defeated their armies, destroyed their cities and farms and burnt their temple to the ground. Now they had returned to Jerusalem, their holy place where God was closest to them, to rebuild. 

We find ourselves at a time in our country where we are being encouraged to rebuild after a time of crisis where lives have been disrupted or even lost and dreams have died. Like the ancient people of God in exile, we have had to adapt to unwanted new circumstances in lockdown and we still have days when we wonder how on earth we put life back together. People ask about how we return to normal. A more positive question is to ask where we go from here... 

The government tells us to go out and enjoy the summer safely. Eat out to help out! Rishi Sunak’s meal deal!

There’s a lot of talk about how we reopen church buildings safely. But maybe we need to be more radical and see our priority to be going out over staying in. What do you think?

Isaiah told the people that God’s presence should not be thought of as located in one fixed physical place, that God did not live in a special holy place on earth where people had to come to experience his presence. This would have been a shock to people who thought the temple was the be all and end all. Perhaps we need in our context and time to relearn what Isaiah was trying to say. That God’s love and grace flows wherever God chooses to be, often in surprising and unexpected places.  

How does God work?

“ My word is that goes out from my mouth, it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,and succeed in the thing for which I sent it. ”

Maybe God needs to be set free from our narrow minded expectations to be God. 

Maybe we in this time of questioning what we put back we have permission to be the Church we were always meant to be as we only put back what matters and we carry on in what we offer the superb on line and other ways we’ve been Church in these unprecedented days.

 Maybe we need to see going out as exciting! Isaiah wanted his people, bruised by exile and away from what they knew, and then bemused why when returning to normal things weren’t as they were, that there was a new song to sing, a new way of being the people of God

“You shall go out with joy and be led forth in peace.”

What is joy? Maybe the Psalmist gets it. 

“In your presence is fullness of joy; in your right hand there are pleasures forever more.”

Have we the confidence to go out in joy and be led forth in peace? We should have, if the fullness of joy is simply being in God’s presence and we let this God lead us on to whatever with the promise of peace. Can we put being there for others first over keeping our church buildings open if we open them again? I’m not dissing reopening buildings. I yearn for public worship again. As a minister of word and sacrament I yearn to put bread and wine into the hands of those in my pastoral care. But we’ve seen in this time the Church, far from being shut, but going out in joy... 

I’ve seen it in the lay worker in my local Circuit who has gladly done our shopping and collect our medication because we cannot go out safely. 

I’ve seen it in the on line worship and generous giving of Churches who have reinvented themselves on line. I’m especially grateful to the Nidd Valley Methodist Circuit in North Yorkshire whose daily prayer on you tube I have followed all through lockdown. I hope in September to provide on line stuff as I’m concerned if we reopen buildings, those who are vulnerable or don’t feel safe, could be easily forgotten.

I’ve seen it in the stories of colleagues who’ve spent time keeping in touch with their congregations, especially those not on line. We’ve kept in touch with the little congregation we have been part of this year at Tydd St Giles chapel, all five of them! A phone call asking how they are has made a real difference to them. Sometimes, you know, going out with joy, isn’t difficult! If we are people of joy, as Henri Nouwen said in the picture at the beginning of this post we have to choose joy every day. 

This Sunday, 12 July, I should have been leading two acts of worship at Oakham Methodist Church. I’m sad not to be with the folk there as I always love returning. I had a very happy time being their minister. In the context of going out with joy I wish to remember the Likoma Link Trust. I think now the charity has been wound up, but it was something Oakham as a congregation supported. Two of the folk there, Maggie and Brian McLester, did a year of VSA on Likoma Island in Africa. It changed their lives. Through them, setting up a charity to fund raise for things in the hospital or for mosquito nets, the Church had a “go out” focus.

I guess going forward the Church, coming out of lockdown, has a stark choice. Either we stress how we put back all we knew in March, or we let God speak to us and see what happens... and believe the future might be bright. I’m a few weeks from a new appointment. It’s scary and exciting at the same time. I guess the new Archbishop of York felt that as he banged the door of York Minster. To begin an appointment by Zoom is bizarre! I had this lovely words sent to me by my soon to be Chair of District: 

“We’re so looking forward to welcoming you to the District, and I know the Circuit is anticipating your arrival with excitement.  We will do all we can to ensure that you and Lis can flourish.”

Isn’t that great? 

“You shall go out with joy and be led forth in peace.” 

So my readers, here’s the choice we have in two bits of writing.

Choice 1: stay inside! In the words of a hymn in the old Methodist hymn supplement “Hymns and Songs”

”When the Church of Jesus shuts its outer door, lest the roar of traffic drown the voice of prayer: May our prayers, Lord, make us ten times more aware,

That the world we banish is our Christian care.”

Or Choice 2: what going out with joy really means. I can do no better than quote from a sermon from Walter Bruggemann from 2011, which he preached at a Church Anniversary:  how exciting would our churches be if we embraced what he suggests?

“Go out in joy and peace, not in anxiety and in discomfort, go out, taking your life transformed from brier to cypress, from prickly brier to a blooming flower tree.

 Go out. Go out from old tired stuff, go out from fears that divide you, go out from quarrels unresolved. 

Go out from old sins unforgiven, go out from old decisions that have scarred and wounded

 Go out from old memories that have become graven images.

 Go out into the way of God’s demanding mission. 

Go the way of father Abraham to a new way of place and life. 

Go the way of mother Sarah, surprised by new life. 

Go out to neighbours waiting for a caring act of generosity.”  

Come to me...

Passage for reflection: Matthew 11: 16 - 19 and 25 to the end of the chapter.

I write this on the evening of July 4. Today for many people, as restrictions have eased, has seen a trip out to do things they haven’t been able to do for over three months.

So Boris says “come and spend, but safely. Let’s get the economy going again.” 

So the pubs say “come and drink, sit at a table, give us your details and we will serve you.” 

So the hairdressers say “we have appointments!” I know of men’s barbers where this morning there were three hour long queues in the street before even getting in the shop.

So museums and cinemas and tourist places and restaurants say “come back, it’s safe.” 

And even some churches are reopening this Sunday. 

“Come to us.” 

This period has seen people miss so much of what they need for life to be enjoyable, so today there has been savouring of a cool pint, a long overdue haircut, a meal out, a film, and for some thinking about returning to a place of worship. Despite how weird that will be! 

But please remember those of us who cannot respond to today’s invitation to come. I’d love a pint in a pub, I’d love a meal out - or at least one I haven’t had to cook - I’m long overdue a haircut, and I’d love to think I can enter a church building soon and lead public worship and even give communion following the mountain of what I’m not allowed to do with that.

 But I can’t come and join the party today. I’m part of that group that is still being told to shield. On Monday I’m allowed to be in a group of six outside keeping my distance but that’s all until the beginning of August. But I’m looking forward this coming week to perhaps suggesting to some folk we might meet outside... 

 And then well, I’m not sure... it’s all very uncertain and seeing pictures on social media today of friends having haircuts and dinners out and with pints in their hands and planning holidays has been very hard. I feel like some of us are being left behind and if we don’t feel ready to join the party and get on with life soon, we will be forgotten. So we stay inside relying on the supermarket delivery people once a week, and the person who gets our medication and watching a box set of All Creatures Great And Small, (dear God - how old is Mrs Pumphrey and how old is Tricky Woo?)

 I’m also writing my blogs and my book,(now on the third chapter on journeying with tradition); reading (books on the go about ministry and the future of the Church), and going on my rambles where I film myself wittering. I’m glad over 200 people watch them each week. That’s amazing! I can’t believe how many people seem to appreciate them. I’ve said they will continue until I do the last one when it’s safe inside my largest church to be: live from Allhallowgate, Ripon. That feels a long time off...

This mad time, which is far from over yet, has made people think what is important in life. I quite understand people excited today getting a taste of what they have missed.

 It’s quite understandable as the last three months have seen our liberties taken away. But let’s hope people haven’t gone mad as the Daily Star headline implies! Free sick bags... let’s not forget Chris Whitty pleading for caution...

This time has also made all of us think about what matters. And that is also true about spiritual questions and the future of the Church. The questions about the future of the Church is not just about how we open buildings safely, but about how we are Church more effectively from now. Perhaps this enforced period  of having to change how we operate will have made us healthier. 

In the midst of the invitations of pubs and restaurants and hairdressers and hotels saying “come”, Jesus gives that invitation too. “Come unto me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you a pint, no, a haircut, no, a curry, no, I will give you rest.” Rest! 

But I want to say to Jesus I don’t want to rest. I’m fed up of resting, I’m not needing a recuperative year any more, I want to go back to work, I don’t want to have to shield just because I’m on asthma meds and I’ve had steroids and I get a flu jab. I want to be part of society again just like everyone else. 

But maybe I need to think what Jesus’ invitation means. What is his rest? His simple promise to us is audacious! 

“Come to me.”

”The only way,”  someone said, “this isn’t megalomaniacal lunacy is if Jesus is who he claims to be: the eternal Word made flesh, our Creator. His promise implies a power behind it more than sufficient to lift what weighs us down.”

The “Faith and Worship” website puts the power of the invitation well:

“Jesus offered something revolutionary, much easier to carry because it had its source in his love and mercy. The Greek word for ‘easy’ can mean ‘well-fitting’. An ox yoke was fitted to a particular animal. The rough-hewn wood shaped and smoothed so that it was a bit like a bespoke made-to-measure suit! Jesus offers not a lifelong burden but a life made-to-measure, one that suits the person. It may not always be without effort, but Jesus’ yoke is laid upon our shoulders in love. 

Many people come to faith because they have been at the lowest point in their lives, weighed down by the burden of living, or by troubles, illness or depression. They have reached the point where they can go no further in their own strength.”

And we can come to him, whether we are stuck inside when it feels like everyone else is rushing on. But this invitation to come lasts longer than that first pint in ages or meal out... and it comes to give us peace and comfort and hope even when we are feeling fed up. Thank God! 

So what does coming to Jesus mean? Three things I think...

1. For the church, permission to have new priorities. I’m glad this past week at its Conference, the Methodist Church has committed itself to evangelism and inclusivity. We need to share the offer of Jesus to a world that needs someone they can trust. We need to say to people who’ve been marginalised or abused, you matter and you are welcome. 

2. For ourselves, a lightness of spirit. What really matters in our lives? We need to hold tight those who are important to us, and have a new commitment to respect others and to enjoy community again. And we need to laugh more because life is too short! What makes you laugh until you ache? This weekend is the 40th anniversary of the film Airplane. The funniest film ever! 

Ted Striker: These people need to go to a hospital.

Elaine Dickinson: What is it?

Ted Striker: It's a big place where sick people go

The only way that this isn’t megalomaniacal lunacy is if Jesus is who he claims to be: the eternal Word made flesh

And the best one!

 Dr. Rumack: Can you fly this plane and land it?

Ted Striker: Surely you can't be serious?

Dr. Rumack: I am serious, and don't call me Shirley.

And 3. For the world a confident hope. We rest in him. No matter what is going on, we rest in him. We cannot know the future and it is frustrating. I am meant to begin a new appointment in September and haven’t a clue what shape that will take because things are so bizarre. But I rest in him! We need to be open to his possibility even in our confusion and fed upness. 

So let me commend a book which arrived today:

“Virus as a Summons to Faith” by Walter Bruggemann. This little book is Bruggemann’s biblical reflections in a time of grief, loss and anxiety. He suggests Jesus knows pain and hurt on the cross and it is from there he invites us to something new. “We can embrace a new normal that is God’s gift to us.”

“Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden and you will find rest for your souls.” 

“Great are you, O Lord, and exceedingly worthy of praise; your power is immense, and your wisdom beyond reckoning. And so we, who are a due part of your creation, long to praise you – we also carry our mortality about with us, carry the evidence of our sin and with it the proof that you thwart the proud. You arouse us so that praising you may bring us joy because you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”

Saint Augustine “Confessions”

And a prayer I wrote on this day at 2.30am four years ago in Shetland:

God of calm seas, sailing boats, orange skies and quiet places at rest, come tonight with your peace.

Jesus Christ, crucified on a cross, embracing all the pain and confusion of the world and defeating it, come tonight with your hope.

Holy Spirit, inspirer and giver of vibrant colour to life, tonight I ask you to give direction to a situation I had to deal with today; give courage to those who are trying to sort out big stuff , and continue to help me celebrate the sudden and unexpected emergence of joy in my life that has come. Come  tonight with your love.

Holy God, peaceful presence, transforming power, and giver of surprises and lovely things, come...