From Moorland to Gangland

The other day someone started a discussion on Twitter about things you don't learn at Theological College that you have to deal with in ministry. One of the partners sessions at college that I have been eternally grateful for was a morning when married clergy came and talked about their experiences. Little tricks like how to protect time for family, to always have spare food in the fridge, lines to give when the Vicar is in but can not be disturbed. These little practical nuggets have served me well as a Vicar's wife. However there are things that you never expect and you are never prepared for. The mundane normal things like cleaning up after services, the walk down the road to return coats, the phone calls in the middle of the night and the sheep in the porch at Church.  However when you leave the comfort of the Yorkshire Moorland to Inner City Gangland, the mundane and practical are thrown out the window. Sure the extra food in the fridge and pantry is still beneficial, in fact more necessary than before. In reality the Vicar is and has to be prepared to provide food at anytime, pay electricity bills and buy random toiletries, nappies etc. Even with the Foodbank next to Church the level of desperation and poverty is that many people need things there and then.  These tasks are still in the realms of practicality and you could foresee their occurrence.

What I could not have predicted (or at least I had not really thought about)  was "Mummy is it safe to go to school this morning?", "Mummy you can't go and talk to that person you would be putting us both in danger". These I could not have predicted anymore than I could have predicted my son having to phone to check his Father was ok, because there had been a shooting near Church and his Father was taking too long to come home. I admit I phoned too. I could not have predicted the sheer number of times the Church property would be broken into. The nights sat up waiting as worried for your husbands safety, as much as you are for the parishioner he is with. Engaging with these events are all right and proper. It is incarnational, it is missional and it is what Catholic mission is best at. However you are not prepared for it, no one even mentions it. The process of training is all very safe. You go from the comfortable bubble world of college, where your placements are all in Churches with good practice, to a curacy in a safe Church with healthy growth or numbers. The real Church of England on the streets is so far from this experience it is almost laughable.

Not only are colleges increasingly being encouraged to decrease the theological education we give our clergy, leaving them ill equipped to educate and lead the laity, but we do not give them the practical skills for practical ministry. The skills required to change perception where people are reluctant to reform, afraid of the reality of belief and afraid to commit to genuine doctrine. I think because the Church is afraid of itself. If we trained clergy to have confidence in who we were, what we believed, then maybe the laity would be a bit more confident. If clergy can not be confident, the Church can not even begin to engage with a community so broken and so desperate for strength, help, certainty and leadership. I know our inner city parish is an in extremis  example, we are the polar opposite of that safe training environment. But society as a whole is floundering, so lost in cacophony of self definition and mindfulness that it is tying itself in knots. My generation and younger are the start of a new wave craving certainty, order, definition and guidance. We can see the world freedom has created, it is confused and lost. As a teenager it was the quiet order of sacramental worship that lured me in. The knowledge and development gained from going every week, the time getting to know God. It was having clergy that could answer my questions, debate points from a safe a certain point of view. This provided me with the grounding I have, it has held fast and my faith has only grown. When a society is owned by chaos, the quiet certain presence of the clergy who walk through it make a difference. Their presence at the site of a shooting, their presence in schools, their presence on the streets. Ever present and ever willing to engage, answer and educate. We may not change a community over night, the answers to the many problems here will never be that simple. But they need more than just more police, more money and better policy. They need a whole approach, they need love, they need value and they need guidance. Maybe college's could spend a little more time preparing their clergy for the Incarnational side of their ministry. Being Christ among the people is  vital and is to be combined with the theological education. Neither should be over looked, corners should not be cut, training time should not be shortened. If we are genuinely serious about bringing more people to Christ, if we are genuinely wanting to grow the faithful, then we have to be faithful disciples not just one day but seven days. To do this we need to equip our clergy to do this rather than run smoothie bars, which are nothing but shallow imitations of the truth that can be gained through the sacraments. Clergy should be trained to be Sacramental and Incarnational examples in all they do or say. They should at least be made aware of some of the more practical encounters that come with the Incarnational side. I would not swap where we are for the world,we make a difference. However sometimes I question whether our children were or could have ever been prepared for what they see on a daily basis. However I rest easy knowing that they see their Father and their Vicar encountering, embracing and loving the people around them. I hope against hope that the sacrificial life example will rub off on them and that they too will see the value of sharing Christ's love not just one day a week but seven days a week.

As the darkness comes

The clocks have gone back, the weather has turned, All Soul's is just around the corner and we are turning our eyes towards a time of reflection and waiting. Part of me loves the build up at this time of year,. The multitude of smells from the making of new soaps, baking and chutney making. The endless prints of Christmas cards littered round the house. The gradual introduction of requeim music and then advent music. Then as the time comes eventually the joyous celebration of the Nativity. It is full of hustle, bustle and business. Yet I always find myself pausing now and then. Occasionally the tears will come as a memory comes tearing in. It is meant to be a cosy family time but it is also a time that is often tinged by remembering what is lost. A reflection on the blessings we have, the blessings we had and the blessings we did not notice in time.

I want to be happy and hopeful all the time. I want to make the autumn and winter evenings, as joyful as it was at times for me. I want to protect my children from the pain, the damage and hurt that the world can bring. I desire this more than anything as the dark sets it. I fill the house with candles, light, warm smells, snuggly blankets and hot drinks. I want to comfort them, from what haunts me. But still I pause and the tears come. I can not make life all happy because it is not.

It is true that as we move past the pain often held in All Soul's, we examine how we can prepare for the joyous gift that is coming. However even that gift is tinged with the pain of what is to come to pass. We can not know the awesome brilliance of joy, unless we can acknowledge it's counterpart. As I pause and let the swells of past pain pass, I feel closest to God. I know he is there, he has always been there. No matter what I have been through, he has always been there. He has held me up, my faith is everything. It is not something I do, not something I am watching, it is without a shadow of a doubt the shaping presence of who I am. It is what gets me up, it is what makes me smile, it is what makes me want to share my joy and my hope. Therefore in those moments of deepest pain and regret, are the moments that I can see his next guiding step. They are the only tines when I stop and listen. These are the times when I am vulnerable and open to that unbending and unyielding grace. It reminds me that without the joy and subsequently the sacrifice we would have nothing.  We have to have both. So, I have learnt not to hide my tears. Subsequently, my children have learnt that not everyone has the peace and security that they have. In this experience the have learnt to value the life and family they have. I miss more than ever the people I have lost along the way, but I have also learnt to value the people I have now so much more. I never miss a moment, never let them go without a goodbye, for I never know when it might be the last. Then as I hug them tight, I give thanks to God for the people I have in my life and the reassuring presence he has in each one of our lives. 

We need to find God

I or We. At some point along the line the worship in Churches became about I or We. I want, I like, We want, We like and if you don't we will stamp our feet, argue and find every possible reason to focus on this one issue to the point of excluding all mission.

 It is partly a flaw of Anglicanism. In a Church which encourages the idea that faith can be whatever and however we like as long as we all love Jesus. Which on the surface is a lovely idea. The idea that we all hold hands and get along is a fantastic one. But if you encourage people to believe whatever they feel like and to worship in whatever manner they decide, worship becomes consumerist. Now no one approaches a Parish Church thinking this is my Church, my community, my faith, my home. They approach it from where is the nearest Church that gives me a bit of what I fancy whether it be a Smoothie Bar or Smells and Bells. It concerns me greatly.

In recent conversations I have had, not one of them have been about making sure Christ is the center of our Parish Life. Instead they are about what words we use, when we have events and separating God from the events. Almost as if we are almost embarrassed to be Christian, to have a conviction, to believe in something. The focus is definitely inward, rather than towards God and without a doubt on ourselves rather than our Mission.

Having a doctrine, having a liturgy, having a Eucharist, gives us a focus. It forces our eyes outwards and upwards, as there is nothing to debate about. It does not suit everyone and it is challenging. It is not by any means the east way out. Being a Christian is about challenging society and it's norms. Trying nudge by nudge to turn those secular eyes God ward. We are meant to live a life that is worthy of Christ. When we sit at the Altar and receive communion our eyes should be on the Body and Blood and heavenwards. If we can not even focus our eyes for this short time on God, then what hope have we of focusing on that in life. Therefore, it follows that we don't stand a chance of bringing that focus, that life out into society. If we as Christians are readily and willingly focusing on us rather than God, how can we expect others to turn their gaze heaven ward to the glory that awaits them.

I am finding myself increasingly frustrated by the constant debates both locally and nationally. What we believe has been decided, it was laid down long ago. The creed we stand and say each week is in direct conflict with much of what the Anglican Church now upholds to be true. With each fracture and with each decision we have moved further away from Christ. Further away from salvation and our focus drifts further away from God. He becomes a distant and ethereal being, his teachings no relevance in today's society. The Church adopts more and more secular ideals in an effort to become cool, to become attractive and truth is drowning in the influx. Belief has become diluted and what we want, what we desire becomes central. God is lost.

There has never been a time when being a Christian was easy, where being a Christian made you liked. It has more often than not led to being disliked, even hated and sometimes martyred. Are each one of us prepared to die for our faith. Defend our beliefs until the end. It appears to me that increasingly we are not. We are prepared to pick the comfortable life, the uneventful life. We are drifting, having lost our moorings. We will drown and be lost, if we can not or will not turn our eyes back to Christ.

" We need to find God, and he cannot be found in the noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they moved in silence....We need to be silent to be able to touch souls."

Mother Teresa

Love one another, as I have loved you.

I may as well admit from the beginning of this post that I am what some might call a dreamer. I have had my head in books since I can remember. Words have carved their way into my heart. I believe the power of words can do as much damage as any violent action. It is just not a visible tangible damage, it is silent internal damage. Words can build a person up or destroy them, similarly it can make or break a society. Our access to words has exponentially grown in the last few years. We have at the click of a button all the words we can ever dream of, and more. We are saturated in the world's words, the world's opinions. We use these words in a detached environment. Where we cannot even see the momentary wince or flicker of pain as we accuse, defame or insult. We launch fire with a machine of gun of words, repeatedly hitting our mark over and over again; without even a glimpse of a conscience. For example we have recently seen the eccentric Elon Musk accuse a man of pedophilia. A man that he has never even exchanged words with let alone met. We go from this to the less eccentric repeated abuse of politicians ,to the maybe justified accusations that should be made in private. Then dealt with in private rather than having a whole world who does not hope to even know the facts weigh in. These are impulsive word,s said without thought, without knowledge of the facts, they are words exchanged in hate. While others are tearing the world to apart with bombs and violence, we are tearing the fabric of society apart with words. This new verbal diarrhea, explodes, covering our world with hatred.  The verbal climate has reached such a boiling point that we no longer think twice about speaking in  such a manner person now either. It is like we have become immune to the pain we inflict.

 We can no longer discuss and disagree and still sit around a table as friends. When we disagree, it virulent and personal. Disagreement is a reason to wound, maim and even kill. Yes, words can and do kill just not by the hand of the person wielding the sword.

What makes anyone want to lead a public life in the present I can not determine. It only takes one words from someone, who maybe you have had a disagreement and nothing more has passed between you. Just one word and the world stops, it doesn't pause to gather it's breath, it collapses around you. Guilty or innocent you are left in immovable rubble. You will never hold your head high ever again because what has been said is with you forever. It is a brand, it marks you. Never more so than for those in our line of sight as politicians and celebrities. You can take a good person and destroy them with the words you utter. Words that are inescapable, unalterable and permanent. They can be genuine, they can be false, but once scattered on social media, the world itself is judge and jury. Legal processes be damned.The words may not even be accusations of  sexual abuse, they may just be a judge of character, they may just be a slur or a twisting of words you have used or a misunderstood expression of political/religious opinions you hold.

As a result we have become either fragile or monstrous human beings. Some cowering behind their duvets afraid to say or do anything in case it is the wrong thing and all the fires of hell descend upon them within seconds. Others so determined in their personal rightness that they will not pause until they have obliterated all who disagree with them. We should be able to have a discussion without making it personal, without assuming the other party must be guilty of being a horrible person. This poison permeates all of social media, journalism and even at the dispatches box in parliament. We can not discuss an issue, we must defame the person at all cost, it is the only way we can prove we are right.

I can not help but think of God sitting there with his head in his hands, with the same sense of exasperation I feel when my son decides to tell me the same Dr Who issue he is having for the fiftieth time in one day. For over 2,000 years he has laid an example for us of how to treat with those we disagree with. We invite them to the table, we share our food, we share our love, we share our ideas and learn to love one another. Enrich one another, educate one another, challenge on another. We can exact a change on the world but not through public slinging matches fueled by anonymous hatred. We must be the change. The way in which we live our lives, can be the change. If we all exacted a change in our lives, if we all went out and treated people the way Jesus did, our world would be at once transformed. There is a price tag to our words, we can either exact an expensive price. The price of lives, friendship and society. Or we can lay down our lives to be a cheap price> It maybe a more challenging price. After all, it is harder to demonstrate good through actions than it is to hurl righteous indignation. God paid the ultimate price tag for us, is not time that we learnt from the life that was given for us. We may leave the world bruised, battered and maybe even bleeding but we will have lived right. We will have shown our faith, we will have shared hope and we will have above all we will have loved one another.

  " And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest if these is love"

1 Corinthains 13:13

"Don't look back darling, it distracts from the now." Edna Mode

I have spent most of this week monitoring the now, or more precisely scouring my Twitter and Facebook feed for post about the Walsingham Youth Pilgrimage. Hoping for tiny glimpses of my son because it is not like I will hear anything from him. In doing so I have been reminded of my past and therefore I did not follow Edna Mode's instructions! I was distracted from the now.

 

Reading the quotes, seeing the pictures and listening to the music has dragged me back to a small retreat house I went to as a teenager. Being a Catholic school there were of course Christian events left right and centre but it was this weekend many moons ago when I realised without a doubt God loved me for being me. At first we all sat round in a group and we had to write on positive thing about each other in a booklet. I remember approaching this task with trepidation. I was full of ideas and compliments for others but I was self consciously aware of being unable to say one thing I liked about myself. I honestly expected my booklet to come back blank. My anxiety increased as the books went round the room. I felt utterly alone, vulnerable and afraid. Being cool came so easily to everyone else. The last book swap felt like an eternity, my heart pounded in my ears, time slowed to a snail's pace and I almost refused to take it. We sat there reading our books in silence. By the conclusion of mine I was in floods of highly embarrassing tears. The idea that these people had one nice thing to say to or about me was such an alien concept to me. However, here was a book full. It was a day of bountiful blessings, at a time when I most needed it.  God had shown me I had a value. It was a moment of revelation that tumbled the wall that stopped me embracing my faith. 

I had always been drawn to Mass, prayer and the retreats etc. Inexplicably drawn to it  from a very early age. I had felt a certainty of God's presence in my life but never saw or understood why he would want me as part of his flock. I still struggle on occasion to see why he might want me in his flock. Despite this I have learned to accept that it is my brokenness that strengthens my faith. Without it, I would not understand the mercy and sacrifice given in his death and Resurrection. 

Looking at the now, seeing hundreds of teenagers enjoying the worship Christ, discovering the humility of kneeling before the sacrament and the promise of hope and love of God, brings a tear to my eye. It will be a moment in many of their lives which will shape their future. Maybe even a moment of conversion but certainly one of inspiration. 

May Our Lady of Walsingham pray for all those on the Youth Pilgrimage.