I would like to continue to draw your attention to our most recent series of online interviews – Me, Jesus, and the Church. This provides a means by which we can hear from people about their background and their coming to faith, but also how they have found it invaluable to be part of the church. I sense that this link, especially when we are living in socially distanced times, is hugely important. There are always those who will explain that they are Christians, but they do not feel the need to go to church, or to be connected to church. The stories surfacing through Me, Jesus, and the Church are deeply moving, and we are now at episode four in what will be an eight-episode series.
This week we hear from Susan Halford who began her working life grading eggs and has since worked with figures throughout her working life. In terms of Susan’s faith, the first part of the interview focuses on how conversations with the owners of a local fruit and veg shop, initial involvement in Crowland Methodist Church, and her reading the gospel came together to the point where she gave her life to Jesus. In the second half, Susan shares how she has always found that being part of a small group vital in helping her remain faithful as a Christian. The advantage of these videos of course is that if a church has projection facilities, they are easily accessible. As for who the future contributors might be, I am always open to volunteers (some folk have already offered) but you may find that I approach you to share…. Everyone has a story to tell.
Visit https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfd1gKrJ4irDkDKdctPFxaw9JEjZn695s to view the full series.
Basilica of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna, Italy: The Three Wise Men” (named Balthasar, Melchior, and Gaspar). Detail from: “Mary and Child, surrounded by angels”, mosaic of a Ravennate italian-byzantine workshop, completed within 526 AD by the so-called “Master of Sant’Apollinare”. Photographer, Nina-no, Source. Wikipedia. Patterned leggings were clearly all the rage in first century Palestine.
Happy New Year to folks. And may this be a better year than last year. On this day of Epiphany, many of us say farewell to Christmas and hold on to the fact that the realisation of who Jesus is makes all the difference. I use ‘realise’ deliberately. Realising (from a state of confusion to knowing true meaning), is not the same as understanding (mere comprehension of facts).
Epiphany is not so much about the visit of the Three Wise Men (for a start the scriptures do not tell us how many wise men there were. We simply know that they came from the East). Epiphany is of course about ‘the big reveal’ – but a kind of reveal that is deeper than Jesus simply showing Himself to us like a jack-in-the-box. (For those of you who question whether a baby could, if they wanted, jump out of a box, it is worth reminding ourselves that the infant Jesus had more likely grown into a toddler by the time that the wise men arrived, so I am consider it quite possible that they encountered a playful Jesus). If we were to allow ourselves to question what the toddler Jesus might have been like, we would not doubt find a wealth of rich material, both salutary and comedic. Unfortunately however, because so much would be hypothetical it would be difficult to come away with any certainties that could encourage us. Apart from one thing. If Jesus, as the creeds state, is both truly God and truly human, he would have experienced all the frustrations that we did as we developed. I continue to recoil at the line of ‘Away in a Manger’ that says, ‘The little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes’. I think it needs more clarity, ‘no crying he makes for a brief period, and then He reverts to screaming His head off because he is hungry or needs changing’. And why should that encourage us? Because God is there, in the messiness of life. Because every child needs to scream, otherwise they do not grow powerful lungs. Because we need to scream at times, for our own sanity. Because God is there, supporting Mary and Joseph throughout it all.
Anyway, that is not the point of Epiphany. The point is that the wise men found Jesus and realised who Jesus was and the difference that He would make. It was their ‘Epiphany’. It was a moment in time where they finally began to see how the promises of God would coalesce to a point where hope for the future was viable. So, what might we take from this? Well there are times in our Christian journey where we may well suddenly reach a deeper understanding about the presence and purpose of God in our lives – which enables us to follow and find the ‘Life in all its fullness’ (John 10:10) that Jesus promises. Others may struggle to see this, but you will. Do not forget that there would have been those in Jesus day who visited, who just saw another child – but the wise men saw more. There is a natural link here as we remember how, anointed by the Spirit, we see the world differently to others. We see purpose, potential, hope where others see nothing. Our role is to communicate that hope. To share our faith, to ask people if we can support them though prayer, to help in practical terms, and to invite them to become part of a new community.
There is a link back to Advent of course, even though we are now rooted in Epiphany. The common thread, for me is the wilderness. John the Baptist preaches in it. The wise men journeyed through it to reach Jesus. However, just because something is a wilderness does not mean that it is lifeless – and just because something is challenging does not mean that it is ‘bad’. Sure, the coronavirus is by every definition of the phrase ‘bad news’. However, despite the hostility of the disease, good things – the absolute best of our human nature – has come to the surface. So, as we journey through this barren landscape, and this second lockdown, may we be encouraged that the Kingdom is coming, and that the virus is being beaten, despite the sting in its tail. My prayer is that we can be uplifted, as were the wise men (and women) with the realisation of the presence of God and find hope for the future. And may this pandemic continue to deepen our relationship with God through Christ, and our resolve. Remember, we are supposed to be those people who survey the same scene as everyone else but see differently. May God give us the grace to encourage others.
One of my abiding memories from our recent family holiday is of a boat trip to the Farne Islands during an evening. The operators offered a ‘sunset cruise’. Unfortunately, the sunset did not appear apart from one small part of the sky, and the trip as we bounced up and down in the North Sea, was less than luxury-cruise like. This said, the clouds were dramatic, and I found that every time I changed position the view was different as the light changed.
Shine?Mackrell-Hey 2020
The most powerful thing that struck me was an eery effect when the suns rays penetrated through, reflected off what seemed like an oily black sea, and illuminated the underside of the heavy cloud in the sky to the point that you could see their texture. It reminded me, in a strange way, of how as Christians we can be living in less than ideal settings, buffeted by the waves (spot the link with this week’s gospel reading), we nonetheless have within us the light of Christ that can illuminate and beautify the storm clouds that are above us, and in doing so point to our creator. I will stop there before the poetry continues but do be encouraged.
Shine/Mackrell-Hey 2020
Another moving moment was how the story of Grace Darling (from which we have the term ‘you are such a darling’, hit home as we surveyed the rocks which tore the Forfarshire steamer apart in 1838. It was Grace who spotted the wreck from her bedroom in the early hours of the morning and alerted her Father. The storm was so bad that they deemed it unsafe for any lifeboat but nonetheless ventured out in their 6-metre rowing boat. In the first wave, Grace and her father saved three people, with Grace steadying the boat. In the second wave, they saved another four. One lifeboat, launched from the ship independently, was found later the next day.
By Thomas Musgrave Joy – [1], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28870049
Be in no doubt, there was a tragic loss of life, and only a fraction survived. I am not sure what moved me the most; the loss of life; the fact that you could see the Grace Darling’s bedroom in the lighthouse from our boat – and the knowledge that her attentiveness saved lives; or the scale of Grace Darling’s legacy; her actions inspired our nation in the values of bravery and simple virtue – and this was compounded by the fact that it sat so uneasily on her humble shoulders. Ultimately, I feel that it was the scenery which brought the scene to life, and served as a reminder that whilst we may feel powerless in the face of a calamity, our attentiveness, and our willingness to be brave and do our part, will save lives. As I reflect today, it serves as a reminder to everyone involved in our local churches to be attentive the needs of those who surround us.
Today, our storm is the pandemic, and we will make a difference.
There has been one recent development in the circuit that has excited me. I share it with you even though it is very much in its infancy. Last Sunday at our Pioneer Hub, Rev Dale Sherriff, one of our supernumerary ministers who was previously involved with Inspire (the Methodist movement intent on encouraging people to grow in their discipleship and engagement with mission), shared some of his thinking about how we might encourage people across our circuit. What he had to say seemed to link well with the ‘Tending to our Roots’ aspects of our ‘Reimagine Strategy’ as we continue to look to the future. (Remember the Tree, and the questions about how we develop prayer and small groups?)
Dale’s reflection began as he questioned the different way in which, historically, we have physically gathered as a church. Whilst we cannot do this now, it seemed to me that some of what Dale had to say might be helpful for local church leaders to think about as we come out of isolation. How will we regroup? How will we gather?
As a Methodist Church, we have gathered in four distinct ways in the past. Whilst I use the historic language here, the principles remain true to our heritage.
As a Circuit (for larger gatherings – something which we reintroduced before the pandemic hit.
As local churches (as Sunday or weekday congregations)
As a Class (the class-meeting language is not often used, but in essence a class is a study and fellowship groups which has been as eqally important (if not more important) than gathering for worship services.
As a Band (again the language has fallen out of widespread use, but a band is a group of say three people who pray for each other – we might refer to this as a prayer triplet).
As for the link with the dragonfly? Well the dragonfly has four wings. Every one of them is required, but they can work together and independently. In the same way we could envisage that these are rather like the four different ways in which people can gather. I should mention of course that the pastoral system of the Methodist Church runs alongside this, but at one time all pastoral groups met as classes. Some still do of course. However, as a way of helping understand the balance we are looking for as we look to the future, this way of thinking may be helpful for many.
The words Class and Band may need revisiting. It may be that using the term Life Group might be more appropriate. Many churches offer fellowship groups, but in time, as we return from lockdown, we may want to question how we can expand and encourage the work in our existing groups. How might they be enhanced to balance spiritual nurture and fellowship? Likewise, could this be a time where we look at encouraging more prayer triplets in our churches? I love the idea of remembering, not least in light of the Coronavirus Pandemic, that Jesus promises Life in all its Fullness (John 10:10). Could these ideas help us as seek to capitalise on the increased depth and scope of engagement in our churches? I merely share this as an idea that is stirring within me….
I was deeply encouraged by a Bridge Builders course in Conflict Transformation last week. The first lesson was that conflict is normal and inevitable in any community where people depend mutually on each other. The second is that we have a choice about how we handle conflict. We can either ignore it and sing ‘I am H-A-P-P-Y’ together. Alternatively, we can embrace it, sacrificing our own wants for the sake of others.
One element of the course drew inspiration from the work of the American psychiatrist Scott Peck, author of The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace (1987). Scott Peck suggests that communities mature through four stages. The first, ‘Pseudocommunity’, has all the trappings of peace and harmony – but only because negative emotions are suppressed. Such a community defines itself by holding fast to generalisations that are more aspirational than reality and defy conscientious observation; ‘Newcomers are welcome’ is a classic example. Scott Peck would question the extent to which this is true. A second phase, ‘Chaos’ occurs when people begin to speak up, share their true feelings, and show their vulnerability. This gives rise to disagreements that force the community to either regress back into pseudocommunity, or to dispense with the charade and live with a feeling of upheaval. The third stage, which might be viewed as ‘Grief’ or ‘Emptiness’, begins when rather than simply listening and accepting difference, members of the community strive to welcome newcomers and accept the anguish of that comes with dying to self. Herein, I suspect that people live with the range of emotions outlined by Kubler-Ross, in her On Death and Dying (1969); denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Finally, a ‘True community’ is one that has reached a place of peace and healing, where people are genuinely able to be themselves, knowing that they are accepted and able to embrace conflict wherever it surfaces.
We discussed this pathway at our Pioneer Hub café service. We are nervous about labelling churches; however, the logic of Scott Peck’s work suggests that every church will be somewhere on a continuum and will be tempted to regress. Crucially though, we also recognise that a preparedness to embrace conflict evolves as we grow as disciples. Do we recognise that our part in transforming conflict is to model to others how we respond when it surfaces? Meanwhile, I see a certain irony in that whilst anxiety in the inherited (historic) Church traditions arises often from our need to safeguard our theology, process, and function, Jesus Christ seems to direct our attention to the quality and depth of our relationships with each other, and with those who are so often overlooked. It would, of course, be clumsy to take a polarised position, placing the inherited church in opposition to what is emerging: we need to learn from each other. Even so, perhaps the focus on reaching newcomers, listening to needs, serving, and nurturing the kind of relationships that build community, is something that the inherited church needs to hear. How much of how we hold ourselves, and what we offer, is more of a pretence rather than reality? If the journey towards true community involves us embracing an ‘a thousand little deaths’ as we let go of ego, bias, power, control – everything that we see as validating us as we face conflict – what part of you will die today, so that someone else can truly live?
