Spring in the midst of autumn

A headline about either teenage pregnancy or an elderly woman giving birth would, these days, be greeted with a curl of the lip.

"Irresponsible interfering with nature!"we'd say. "By the time the child's grown up her mum will be ready for a nursing home.
It isn't right. And as for teenagers getting themselves pregnant, don't get me started!"

But Sarah laughed. Perhaps it was a laugh of weary despair: "Me - a mother at my age? Don't make me laugh!" She was just a dried up stick. Life was nearly over, until suddenly Good gave it a whole new start. Then her laughter was pure joy.

But with God, all things are possible. I heard yesterday about a lady in hospital, after a major coronary, coming round from a coma and telling her family she felt fine. I prayed for her, bit I didn't expect this to happen.

With God all things are possible. What would that mean for me today? For the things in my life that I have written off? Could God yet breathe new life into them?

An Advent Journey

Advent Sunday is a good time to start a journey, so I'm inviting you to travel with me and others on the road marked out by John Kiddle from the Diocese of St Albans.
The Advent Challenge offers you the chance to receive a daily email or text, with a Bible verse and a short reflection. The website offers you the chance to share comments with fellow travellers.
I've posted an prayer for the start of the journey up there, and I hope that I won't be travelling alone.

I've been a journey the last couple of days. A journey of 300 miles, to Bristol and back, to see Michael my son. Very nice, very pleasant to see him in his new surroundings at university, and to meet some of his new friends.
But as with all journeys, it needed some preparation, and some work. Most of the work beforehand was done by Rachel, who booked us a place to stay overnight, organised food, supervised the packing and thought of every detail like cancelling the milk, and getting friends to feed our guinea pig while we were away. My part came in doing the driving – Rachel doesn't much like motorway driving, so I took care of that.
When you come home from a journey, you see things in a new light. The revelations that come from a day or so away are nothing earth-shattering – mainly in our case to do with how much colder a vicarage is than a hotel room!
But I want to suggest that these three components are common to all journeys – preparation; work in the travelling; and discovery – both of new things learnt on the way, and new perspectives on your situation back home.
Travel broadens the mind.
So it's with that in mind that I want to invite you on a journey this Advent. Don't worry, it won't cost anything in petrol or hotel bills, it won't take you away from the vital things you've got planned over the next few weeks. But I hope, that if you put a little effort into that preparation and the work of the travel, that you will make some valuable discoveries along the way.

The passage from Isaiah that I'll hear read in church in 90 minutes' time ends with these words: "Come, descendants of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord."

There's an invitation if ever I heard one. Come on, let's walk in the light of the Lord together.

What would it mean for us to walk in the light of the Lord? What would need to change in your life, if that truly were to happen? I can't answer that question for you, I can only begin to answer it for myself. And for me, it would mean a little more dying to self, and a little more living to others. It would mean a little less finding out what pleases me, and the little more finding out what pleases God. Paul in Ephesians says “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light and find out what pleases the Lord.”

So will you come on this journey with me? Every day another step? I don't expect great revelations will accompany us every step of the way, or that wonderful insights will come on every single day. But it's important not to be discouraged if nothing happens at first.

I'm confident of this, that God who began something good in you and in me, won't stop halfway, but will keep on working in us until the day when Jesus Christ does return, and that therefore if we ask, seek and knock, we will find.

And let me say that no journey is wasted. Not all who wander are lost. And if nothing else, we might see some nice scenery along the way.

A Christian Ghost Story

This is the challenge I set myself this Halloween: when you get to that stage at a Halloween party of sitting around swapping ghost stories, I want to tell one about Jesus and the Resurrection.

So I wrote this.

A long long time ago, an innocent man died a cruel and unjust death. But it was worse than that, it was about the cruellest and most painful death that people had ever invented. It's no exaggeration to say that he died screaming in agony. But, as I said, he was innocent, and was killed for crimes he did not commit.

It happened like this. A friend of his, whom he trusted, had betrayed him for money, and he found himself surrounded by his enemies who captured him, held a sham trial to find him "guilty" and sentenced him to die. Then they tortured him, just for the fun of it. After that, they made him carry the thing that was going to kill him to the place where he was going to die. He'd lost so much blood as a result of the torture, they had to get someone to drag him up the hill in the end - they killed him on top of a hill because they wanted him to die in full view of as many people as possible.

The thing that killed him was a massive block of wood, and they literally stapled his body to it, stood it on end and left him hanging in the blazing sun.

He died on an unlucky day, a Friday. The original Friday the 13th. To make it worse, the people of his time had a belief, or a superstition, call it what you will, that if anybody died on a Friday, and was buried on a Saturday, those who'd buried him would be in trouble. Others would avoid them, they would be counted as "unclean" and they wouldn't be allowed to mix with people until they had made a sacrifice to pay for their transgression.

So his friends couldn't bury him properly. The rule was that you had until the sun went down on Friday, and then you had to stop work. Not just burying, but all work. You had to stop when the sun went down, or face the consequences. So they had a couple of hours, no more. One of them gave his own gravespace, and they shovelled his body in as quickly as they could, before the last rays of the sun went down. They couldn't wait around anyway, because the army had sent soldiers to guard the grave. There was a rumour going round that said that this man was not going to rest easy in his grave, and they didn't want to take any chances.

Darkness fell on Friday night. The graveyard was quiet and still. Saturday came and Saturday went. Afraid of the law, the friends kept away all day and did no work. They got ready to visit his grave again on Sunday morning, bringing some flowers.

Darkness fell on Saturday night. The graveyard was quiet and still. The guards shivered in the cold. They weren't enjoying this job. They jumped at the slightest sound, eyes straining in the darkness, minds imagining all sorts of strange happenings in the graveyard all around. Fancy sitting here, with all these bones. all these dead people resting, some peacefully, some perhaps, not so peacefully. After all, people say that those who die unjustly cannot rest.

I wonder, did they stand with their backs to the grave, or did they keep it in view? They knew the man had died unjustly, did they worry that he might stir in his grave? Did they tell themselves that they weren't frightened, that superstitions like that were for children, not grown men and soldiers? If they did, it wasn't working, because they were jumping out of their skins at the slightest sound.

At last it was midnight. Sunday had begun. Friday, Saturday, Sunday - the third day since the innocent man died in screaming agony. And as Sunday began, his grave began to open, and the guards trembled and became like dead men.

What happened next? I don't know, because there was no one watching to give a report. The guards had fainted with fear. But this I know, that dead man was dead no longer, because now it was Sunday, and the man's name was JESUS CHRIST.

Why Halloween ties me in knots

When I was young, both not very old, and new as a Christian, I used to think that what mattered was believing the truth and trying to persuade others to believe it too.

As I get older, I find myself more and more concerned about what others think of the church, and how our Christian beliefs seem so odd and out of step with the world that there's precious little chance of them believing what we believe because we express it in such a weird way. In other words, it's not what you say it's the way that you say it.

So although I've been opposed to Halloween for years, I've come to think that my long standing opposition to this upstart of commercial festivities is comprehensively misunderstood by people outside the Christian bubble that I inhabit.

Boo! Christian killjoys! Don't you understand irony? You think we really believe in vampires and zombies? Well actually, we're more likely to believe in vampires and zombies than in Jee-zus anyway! Cause the way you talk about him is so off-putting!

So what's a middle-aged vicar to do?

Especially one who finds himself in charge of a secular youth club, where his committee think it would be a good idea to have a Halloween party.

Tomorrow I'll tell you what I did.

Today, it's all about the dilemma. Why is Goodness boring? Why would we rather muck about with evil? It's not an old problem. Milton, writing Paradise Lost, accidentally turned Satan into a sublime tragic hero and made Jesus about as exciting as John Major. (sorry John). I'm not quite at Milton's level, but I am trying to come up with something to say and do that speaks about Jesus and the Resurrection.

Perhaps you could pray for me.

Or maybe you'd prefer to wish me luck.

Restless Prayer

I tried to start a prayer journey, but I couldn't be bothered to leave home.

That's how it feels, as I look back on my resolution to become closer to God through prayer. And going public with it is pretty embarrassing, because as a professional Christian, a church leader, I ought to be good at prayer.

Somehow, I am inclined to think of prayer as a hobby, a side interest, something to do if I have time, or (if I’m not ashamed to say it) nothing better to do. But today I want to speak about prayer as a necessity, as a desire that is as deep as our deepest need, prayer that is not an optional extra to a comfortable life, but the bedrock on which life is built. If we are serious about putting God at the centre of our lives, then we need to cultivate a deeper desire.

But here's my problem. Being honest, really honest, (because where God is concerned there’s no point in doing anything else) I don't want a relationship with God anything like enough. I’m too used to being comfortable, satisfied, and full. And I suspect that many of you are just the same as me.

Gerard and Chrissie Kelly wrote a book called Intimate with the Ultimate, and the third chapter is called Restless. It's about cultivating a dissatisfaction with the way you are, and a deep deep longing to be closer to God.

They must have known what I am like.

Fortunately, they are very realistic. I love this bit of advice: "Tell God that you want this relationship; or if you can't get that far, that you want to want it; or if that is too difficult, that you want to want to want it; or if even that is too high a price, that you want to want to want to want it. Whatever your starting point, take a step towards a life of prayer driven by desire to know God."

I think I can manage that. I might be sitting in an armchair behind the starting line, not even dressed for a race, while the Olympic stadium is full of the saints cheering the competitors on, and the runners are under starters orders. The crowd are the saints, God has his finger on the starting pistol, and I'm sitting back, reaching for another chocolate.

God! Help me want to get out of this chair, and run the race!

"You do know, it's all down to you, don't you?"

Why did this question fill me with horror?

I had a moment of revelation the other day. I was in a meeting, and the role of the church in the local community was under discussion. Our church was praised for being present in situations that other churches didn't seem to care about.

And then came the question.

"You do know, it's all down to you, don't you?"

What would you think was meant by that? I'll tell you how I took it. To me, it sounded like this person was telling me that it was all down to me, as the vicar, to keep the church involved in this and other important things in the community. And I quailed.

But seeing the look on my face, the last who said it clarified: she meant it as a compliment, that credit was due to me for leading the church to be so active in the community.

Why does this matter? Because for some time I have had my leadership style under scrutiny, and it is becoming clearer to me that I keep too much to myself
To much responsibility, too much work, too much worry. Like many clergy, I'm a poor delegater. It might be because I'm a control freak, it might be because it takes quite a bit of nerve to persuade a busy person to do another job for you. But partly because of something a bit more complicated and intractable.

Because of the way I responded to that question. It's all down to me. I didn't know that I thought that, but apparently I do.

Time to remind myself that it's NOT all down to me. It never was, and never will be. This isn't my church, it's God's church.

Sorry God. You can have it back now. I hope I haven't broken it.

The storage tide

I'm thinking of preaching tomorrow on the parable of the rich fool - Jesus' story of the farmer who needed to build bigger barns to keep all his possessions safe.

It struck a chord - every time I see a self-storage warehouse I think, "We have way too much stuff!"

Rhythmic prayer - progress?

Well it's no secret that this prayer journey of mine hasn't been plain sailing. It's coincided with one of the busiest periods of my life for a decade, and just recently with one of those suspicious illnesses that just happen arrive just as I've got time for them.
Yes, this last week I've been ill, After singing with a sore throat on Sunday, I could hardly speak on Monday, and have been full of cold all week. Sleeping badly, with aching limbs and throbbing head each day, I have cancelled appointments and ignored the sunshine, and laid on my bed of pain.
I'd been looking forward to this week as a time to catch up on the things I'd postponed for too long. All those people I'd neglected to call or visit. All those emails and bits of paper not responded to.All those tasks that weren't counted as urgent, waiting for me to summon the time to carry them out.
None of them done!
Not even prayer.
All I've been able to do is to start one or two things that I hope will become habits - little actions that remind me of God and certain points in the day. Trivial really, but I hope worthwhile.
When I wash my face, I splash water on to my face three times, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. And I think about God, while I'm lathering the soap.
And I'm lingering longer in front of hand dryers in public toilets. That sounds ominous, doesn't it! Rather than a token waft under the asthmatic lukewarm breeze, followed by a swift wipe on the trousers, I hold my hands there until they are dry. Or until the machine cuts off. And while I'm doing that, I pray.
So next time you're in the pub with e and I nip out to the toilets, and I'm gone a long time ... now you know what I'm doing!

Why celebrate 150 years of our church?

I don't usually post sermons here, but today I'm making an exception. In our 150th year, our main celebration is at the Village Fete where, together with the regular organisers, we are working to put on an enjoyable afternoon for all the community.
The sermon is designed to address the questions of why we are doing this, rather than something more "spiritual,"and is attempting to break down the barriers between those inside the church and those outside. For some, there are no barriers, but for others, both insiders and outsiders, there very definitely are.
The Bible passage is Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Introduction

Today's gospel is one that has all sorts of challenges for us. It's one of those passage where you can say, OK, this is what Jesus made his disciples do then, what if he was to make his disciples do the same thing now. Then and now – and Jesus' words apply to both.

Sending Out

The first thing to say is that this is the clearest example in the gospels that following Jesus is not just a question of watching him do it. Jesus sends people out to do the things he does.

Whenever Christian preachers talk about mission, about God being a sending God, about the church's mission in the world, this is the passage they are thinking of. 

What does Jesus do? He teaches, he heals, he saves. Oh, and he sends.

Being a Christian is not just about coming, it's about going. 

Coming and going. 

Just sitting in the pews sometimes feels like a victory in itself. But it's not the whole story.

And if we look at what Jesus says, the first thing that strikes us is that he complains there aren't enough people to send! 

Sound familiar?

We would love to do more in this community, but we haven't got the people to do it. 

So are we going to do what Jesus says? Are we going to pray, and ask God to send out more people?

Working in partnership

Moving on, the second thing I want to pick out is the idea of working in partnership. 

Don't take everything you might need, Jesus tells them. Don't fill up your rucksack with provisions and spare clothes, and your swiss army knife. 

Why not? 

Why can't we go equipped?

Are we supposed to make it harder for ourselves? 

I used to really wonder what this meant, I couldn't understand why Jesus insisted that his disciples had to travel light. But recently, I think I'm beginning to understand it.

If you've got all you need, you think you can do it by yourself. If you haven't, you need to ask for help.

Jesus isn't creating little supermen who are going to go out and amaze the populace with their astonishing powers. 

He doesn't want men of steel. 

Jesus himself was sent by the Father into the world and he arrived with nothing. He was weak, and he needed help. He was a baby and he needed the love of a mother and father to protect him and nurture him.

The disciples will arrive in a village and the first thing they're going to need is a meal and a bed. 

They're going to have to ask someone, Please will you look after me? Please will you help me? 

And the person who offers them hospitality is going to want to know, why are you here? And when they explain, if their host is a person with a pure heart, a man of peace, as Jesus puts it, they will help. 

They will say, "I will help you to do what you've come for. You can stay in my house, you can eat my food, and when you go out to talk to everybody they'll know that you have got the backing of at least one person, because I'll be standing right behind you."

What's the lesson for us in this? 

To do things with people, to let them help. 

They don't have to believe it all first, they just have to support us. 

So next week, the village fête is a joint effort between the church and the village. 

We are helping them, they are helping us. Before we open our mouths to say a word about the God we believe in, we will have worked alongside each other. 

That's why next week's 10am service is cancelled. 

No, it's not cancelled, it's just moved. 

Next week our "service" will be to help those who are preparing for the fête. 

So please don't stay away just because "there's no church." 

Come and be the church outside our walls. 

If all goes according to plan, it won't just be our job to commend our God to everyone who turns up for the fête, the whole community will be doing the job with us, and for us.

Result – Success!

And what was the result for those first disciples? 

Success. 

They returned with joy, saying “Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.” 

Jesus' reply shows that he has shared his authority with them to be victorious over all the nasties that threaten them. 

Don't be surprised, he tells them. Whatever it is that you fear, whether it's literal demons or metaphorical ones, the God who goes with you is stronger than they are.

But again he warns them not to be supermen. 

Don't get carried away – what matters most is not your victories over evil, it's whether or not your names are written in heaven. That's the most important thing.

Is it the most important thing for us? 

Is this the most important thing that we wish for, and hope for and work for and pray for – for everyone we come into contact with, that their names are written in heaven? 

Why are we celebrating our 150th? Just to give ourselves a giant pat on the back? 

What has this church been here for, for 150 years? 

So that the people who live in Hertford Heath may have their names written in heaven, that's what we're here for!

Rhythmic Prayer: The exercises

The second chapter of my prayer journey is all about rhythm. The contrast between periods of work and rest creates gaps into which we can invite God.
These are the exercises that Gerard and Chrissie Kelly suggest in their book, which can allow us to fill the gaps in our lives with prayer.

Liminal Prayer: coming apart at the seams

Coming apart at the seams sounds like bad news! But in another sense, it's nothing but good news. Coming apart is an old-fashioned term for the life of prayer, and often the time to find moments to withdraw from the preoccupations of the day is the joining places. The moments between waking and sleeping, between home and work, the pause between appointments. These are liminal moments, stages between one state and the next and they most offer the chance of private thoughts in an otherwise public day. Can you identify some of the seams in your life that you can convert into prayer moments? Having done so, can you commit to using them with regularity? Every traffic light, two seconds before each meeting, the same bus ride every day. What about offering a silent prayer every time you cross a boundary or threshold?

Pause, rewind, play

There is great scope for creating “pause moments” in the day and habitually turning them to prayer. The time it takes to boil a kettle, to take a shower... In the Celtic tradition each of these would have its own prayer. There were prayers for lighting the fire, milking the cow, or washing your face. Perhaps we can create prayers like that for ourselves. Think about the “pause moments” that most regularly occur in your days and which of them could most easily be turned to prayer.

Spot the dot

We have done this before in church. We were invited to put a sticker on our watch, or our phone, or our glasses case, so that every time we saw it, it would remind us to pray. Would anyone like a new dot?The fishbowl of faithThe Kellys have a friend in London who used to feel guilty about all the people he promised to pray for. He had too many people on his list, and couldn't stick to a timetable. His ingenious solution was to find an empty fishbowl at home, and write the names of everyone he had committed to pray for on pieces of paper. Whenever he went out of his front door, he would pick a slip with closed eyes and pray for that person through the day.

Thanktank

The German mystic Meister Eckhart taught that “If the only prayer you said in your whole life was 'Thank you.' that would suffice.” Saying grace before meals can for some people be a rare island of gratitude in an ungrateful world. Some make a habit of praying on the last moment before sleep, thanking God for the warmth, security and comfort of a bed and for the home that allows a family to rest in peace. Some have learned in their first waking moments to pause and thank God for the new day. When Jesus broke bread and said “Do this in remembrance of me,” was he thinking about the service of Holy Communion, or something simpler? “Every time you see bread, think of me. Every time you break it, remember me.” Sew prayer into the very fabric of your day and you will find that fabric transformed.

Prayer Journey - My second step

After admitting to some struggles as I try to get my prayer life up to speed, this Sunday I'm going to preach on the second chapter of Gerard and Chrissie Kelly's book, Intimate with the Ultimate.

This is all about getting a rhythm in your prayer life. Music to my ears. I've always been stop start, trying out something new and being all enthusiastic for a week or two, only for the next new thing to become another source of guilt, or an unwanted millstone round my neck.

The chapter begins with a provocative quote from Christine Sine: "I am challenged by the idea of entering into the joy of the Sabbath as a glimpse of eternity. Taking the Sabbath seriously affects the rhythm and focus of my whole life, not just one day a week."
Tomorrow will be my day off, and I will be resting. I don't always manage a full day off, and if my sermon isn't finished, I'll be sneaking into the study or sitting with my laptop on my knees while watching television in the evening, finishing my Powerpoint or the notice sheet.
(Ever wondered why there are so many typos in the notice sheet? Maybe there was something good on telly on Saturday night ...)

But it's not just about taking a day off once a week. Important though that is, what the Kellys are really talking about, is contrast.
They give the example of the discovery made by impressionist painters, that using contrasting colours could make each one shine more brightly. If we can inject some contrast into our lives - times of effort interspersed with times of rest, times of action balanced by times of reflection - then the resulting rhythm will add depth to all we do.

These rhythms aren't prayer in themselves, more containers into which prayer can be poured. They can be thimble-sized, or big enough for a gallon of Spirit. But without the container, the prayer can't be held. Try getting yourself a drink without a glass to put it in. You end up in all sorts of contortions trying to get your head under the tap.

If rhythm can stop my prayer life getting contorted, it's well worth a go!

Prayer journey? Prayer traffic jam, more like

Well, I have to confess that my prayer journey is off to a slow start.

Thank you to everyone who has been asking me how it is going - I hope I've been honest enough with you to say that it is going very very slowly! I did say that prayer wasn't my strong point, didn't I?

So instead of zipping along the M1 of prayer, I am firmly stuck in the traffic jam of the spiritual life. But not disheartened. It's too easy to get either guilty or fed up, and decide that's it, I'm not going to bother. I don't want to succumb to these temptations. I also want to try some of the suggestions in the Kellys' excellent book.

Past of what I am doing at the moment is removing some of the blockages to prayer. I've spoken about guilt already, I've spoken about the fact that we need to be really persuaded that God is on our side, not waiting to appeased by us, or argued into grudgingly helping us out. I really believe that, and I'm determined to put it into practice.

The next sermon on this subject will be preached on June 23rd, at 8am and 10am in Holy Trinity Hertford Heath. There will also be blog posts on the subject of chapter two - prayer as a rhythm. I am really looking forward to this - I sense that my own efforts at prayer are fitful and clumsy because I lack any rhythm. I hope to be reporting on some ways to bring God into the ups and downs of my life pretty soon.

Peace to this house

We're getting going on our prayer journey.
Or at least I am. Don't know if there's anyone going to be travelling with me yet. Unless you comment. (Hint hint)
Anyway, after talking last Sunday about the idea of prayers as a relationship, and posting the exercises suggested by Gerard and Chrissie Kelly in their book, here'a little report on my first steps.

This has been Christian Aid Week, a time when we try to deliver envelopes to as much of the parish as we can manage, and invite people to fill them with money and bring them back to church on Sunday, where coffee cake and a car wash await them. And a smile. And a box to put their envelopes in. We don't raise as much money as we would if we did it the traditional way, of returning to each house where we'd delivered an envelope, and asking for a donation. But that's hard, and some people are rude and unwelcoming, and the church family by and large are not willing to do this any more.
And to be fair to the community at large, nobody knocks on someone's door in the evening, unless it's an emergency, and nobody asks for money these days, and if they do, we feel embarrassed and offended. But the discussion about door to door collecting belongs in another place.

All that is just to say that I have been walking the streets, delivering around 300 envelopes, and taking the opportunity to try and pray while I walked.
It's interesting to reflect, after 8 years here, just how many of the houses and the people who live in them I now know. A surprisingly large number. I have been privileged to be invited in to many of the houses, and into the stories of the lives of those who live there. So as I walk up their garden path, I can call them to mind, and commend them to God's love.
And for those I don't know, there are always clues about who lives there. Can I see toys in the garden? Then there's children. A handrail by the door? Someone elderly, probably living alone. Pets? Decorations? All clues that have helped me aim an arrow prayer heavenwards for God to bless the likely occupants of this house.

But I also need to confess that doing this yearly job makes me nervous. I'm not a natural postman. I used to work on large council estates in London, often delivering bad news such as details of rent arrears and eviction notices. I got a hostile reception. I've had my hand bitten by a dog, pushing a letter through a door, and a loud volley of barking as I approach someone's house always makes my pulse race. I'm very aware that I'm stepping on to someone's territory  and occasionally I catch suspicious looks as the curtain is twitched aside, and an anxious resident looks out to see who is invading their space.
So it's been very calming to imagine myself as an emissaary of peace. I remembered Jesus' instructions to his disciples when he sent them out in pairs: “When you enter a house, first say, ‘Peace to this house. If someone who promotes peace is there, your peace will rest on them; if not, it will return to you.”
"Peace to this house," I say, as I push open the letterbox, and shove a little red envelope through. I imagine myself not bringing them a request for money, not remonding them of their responsibility to the poor, which might evoke feelings of guilt or annoyance, but bringing them a gift.
It's been a positive experience.
So - people of Rushen Drive, Oak Tree Close, Trinity Road, London Road and the Roundings - be blessed today!

The long watches of the night

Ok, I know I'm not off to a great start with my prayer journey. Not many posts yet, and you may be in danger of forgetting what it's all about!
The truth is, I've been struggling to find time to be with God in more than a perfunctory way. Many demands of my time and energy in recent days, and one of the negative consequences of being too busy is that I sleep less well.

For me, lying awake in the small hours is the time when I succumb to guilt. I remember all the things I haven't done, and I think about the ways I wasted time yesterday instead of shifting more things off my to do list.

Where does this guilt come from? For years, I thought it was God speaking to me. It never occurred to me to wonder why he always had such negative things to say in the middle of the night. I think the truth is more to do with the way my mind works - when awake at night I generally feel worse about myself than at any other time.My thoughts turn to guilt more easily that blessing.

I'm learning to remind myself that God is nice, and he loves me. OK, he might have some stern things to say about the way I serve him badly, but he is adept at saying them in ways that build me up, not in ways that grind me down.

The first thing to be done on this prayer journey is to shift away some of the rubbish that gets in the way of my relationship with God. Night time guilt - that's first for the wheelie bin.

Finding God in unlikely places

I'm meant to be on a prayer journey at the moment. As you know, if you're a regular follower of my blog.
But nothing has happened this week because of various things, one the main ones being the arrival of OFSTED at my local school.
I'm not allowed to divulge the outcome of the report before it is published, but anyone who has connections with the world of education will know how stressful the inspectors' visits can be.
It was very hard not to get caught up in the tension, and to let nerves get the better of me when with Sue the Chair of Governors, I took my turn to be lightly grilled.
It turned out not to be the ordeal I feared. The inspector was calm, friendly and understanding. She smiled. She urged us to relax. She communicated that she was here to inspect, not to judge.
In short, she did all that I wanted to do for the staff - bring a little sniff of the peace of God into the school in the midst of the anxiety and fear.
In the midst of a time of great testing, God was present, brought in by the most unlikely of people, found in the most unsought for place - the person of the OFSTED inspector.

Relational Prayer 3 - The Exercises

As I begin my journey of prayer, beginning with the easy and obvious, here are the exercises that Gerard and Chrissie Kelly recommend in their book, Intimate with the Ultimate.

Prayer is relationship

Consider the elements that contribute to a healthy relationship: you might think, for instance, that time should be invested, not only doing things together but simply being together; you might suggest that listening is important, each person being truly heard by the other; you might want to say that complete transparency and honesty are essential. Make a list of the five or six most important elements. Now ask yourself, what is the place for this in my relationship with God?

Prayer is trust

Take some time to reflect on your walk with God over the past 12 to 24 months. Ask yourself where are the high spots where you have truly trusted God, and where are the low spots, where you have given way to fear? What made the difference? What can you do to see fear expelled? Try noting in a journal the things you have said and done that might be construed as being born out of fear – then, on another page, those things born of trust. Do you see a pattern in the difference between the two? Are there ways you can shift the balance from being fearful to trusting?

The empty chair

Therapists sometimes use a technique of recreating a conversation you have had in the past by asking you to talk to an empty chair, imagining that the person is there in front of you. Try doing the same for a while with God. Rather than praying to a God “somewhere out there”, imagine God on a chair beside you. What do you want to say?

Emmaus Road

If you have struggled in recently to find time to pray, take a literal walk with God. If possible, walk somewhere where people will not think you crazy for talking to yourself. Book some time: two hours; a morning; a whole day and talk to God as you walk. Shout at him if you have to; cry if you need to. Imagine him asking you “So how is life going for you?” and “How do you feel about that?” and “What would you ask me if nothing was considered off limits?”

Table for two

A few years ago we created a prayer installation in the church on the day of the village fête. Part of it consisted of a table, laid for two, with a jug of juice. Each person was invited to take a seat, pour themselves a drink and dine with Jesus. Given such an invitation, what would you talk about?

Letters of love

If you sometimes find it hard to talk to Go, write to him. Write, “Dear God ...” and then say what you've been trying to say. Explain yourself; ask your questions; express your feelings. Sign off with love, then seal the letter and set it aside. Three months later, read it and ask, “Did God answer?”

His prayer – your prayer

Use the words of the Lord's prayer as your framework for prayer. After each phrase, simply pray about the things that come to mind. If you run out of time, write some of the things down to pray about later. Come back daily to the list. Pray daily; ask daily; forgive daily; seek guidance daily. Let the categories sparked by the Lord's Prayer become the categories in which you pray: use the filing cabinet Jesus designed for you because he knew that you would need one ...

Relational Prayer 2 - Why we just don't get it

I'm starting a journey into prayer, and beginning at the beginning.

Prayer is a relationship. We all know that. It's not reading out a shopping list to God, or mouthing some special formula of words whose meaning has not been internalised. No. We talk to God, and God talks back.

I know this, and I sometimes experience it to be true. However, I still fall back into a different way of thinking and behaving, which Gerard and Chrissie Kelly, in the book "Intimate with the Ultimate," call humanity's default setting when it comes to relating to God, or the gods.

Christianity, they say, has a more sophisticated spirituality, but it has to work hard contradict this way of thinking that we all lapse back into.

So what's it all about? It's about the fact that when we don't know who we are talking to, we act out of fear instead of trust. When we don't feel that we know anything about the God we are trying to communicate with, we can't embark on a relationship with any degree of trust. If the trust isn't there, then we've no idea what God's attitude is towards us. He might be angry, he might be capricious, he might be indifferent.

The first thing we must do, then, is appease him, or impress him - do something to capture his interest. Otherwise, how will we know that he'll even bother to listen to us? So we bring a sacrifice. Not a dead animal, like ancient people used to, but something. We give up something for Lent. Perhaps that'll impress God. We go to church. I mean, that's a sacrifice for a start. Sit on a hard pew in a cold building listening to some vicar droning on - surely God will be impressed with our dedication if we do that!

The whole point of the sacrifice is to change God's attitude towards you. You want to get him onside, then perhaps he'll answer your prayer.

But that is not why Christians should pray. Or Jews, for that matter, because in this case Old and New Testament speak with the same voice. We don't pray to change God's attitude to us, we pray to change our attitude to God. We've got it completely backwards.

The Bible, Old and New Testament, tells us time and again that God loves his people, that he wants to bless them, that when he's cross and disappointed with them it's because they won't come and speak to him, and would rather worship someone else. God sounds more like a wounded lover than a stern father. God wants our friendship. He likes us. He enjoys hearing us pray.

If only we could understand that - everything else would change!

To back this up, the Kellys quote Isaiah 55. That link will take you to the whole chapter, and you can see how it begins with a lovely offer from God to come and enjoy all kinds of wonderful things free. We haven't got to pay for them, we haven't got to offer sacrifices to get them, we haven't got to impress God with our holiness to deserve them. We just have to come and get them.

But if you read on, you can all too easily lapse back into default mode spirituality  Because later, it talks about God being so different to us:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

There you are then, we think. God is so far above us, we can't begin to understand him or relate to him. We can't possibly know what he thinks of us. We'd better go back to the old way of thinking, and come with a sacrifice, just in case. People even quote these verses as a justification for times when they've prayed for something and felt their prayers weren't answered. 

But that's not what it's saying! If you read this chapter properly, and don't chop a bit out of it and examine it in isolation, you'll understand.  Isaiah is saying, yes God is far above us, yes the sky is really really high. But it's from the sky that the rain and the snow comes, which waters the earth and makes it bring forth its fruit. Doesn't matter how high it is, the blessings still come. Doesn't matter how high and mighty God is, he still loves you, still blesses you, whether you deserve it or not.

Get it through your head. God is not against you. God loves you, wants to bless you, wants to relate to you, wants you to trust him and believe in him, and let yourself be changed and healed by him. He really does.

What we need to do (what I need to do!) is examine our attitudes, and try and trust God. It's called faith. Often it seems crazy, flying in the face of the evidence. But if we don't try it, we'll never find out if it works.

Relational Prayer 1 - An Introduction

I'm getting ready to launch our prayer series tomorrow in church, and so I need to be starting it for myself.
What's it all about? As a church family, we clearly identified that we want to learn how to pray better, together and alone, and it falls to me as the vicar, to teach people how to do this.
Unfortunately, I don't regard myself as an expert in prayer, so I decided the best way to do it would be to go on a journey myself.

I'm using Gerard and Chrissie Kelly's book "Intimate with the Ultimate" as my guide, and it has seven chapters talking about different aspects of prayer, all flowing from Jesus' own invitation to his followers: "Walk with me, work with me, watch how I do it."

I like the way the Kellys make it sound easy, and do-able. That's how prayer should be, surely. Not an A-level requirement for super saints, but the stuff of Christian life.

And they begin with the simple idea that Prayer is a relationship. Well duh, you're probably thinking.

Understandably so. We've known that since Sunday School, haven't we? Except that we don't know it. We don't really know it.

If we knew it, we would do it. And we don't. or at least, I don't. Not in that familiar, easy, natural way that I crave. Not often. Tomorrow's post will explain why Gerard and Chrissie say that we don't get it, and after that, I'll talk about how they suggest doing something about it.

The Kellys suggest a series of exercises to get us into this way of thinking, and I'm going to try as many of them as I can and report my progress here. Another post will set out what they are, and how I'm going to do it.

So if you see me walking through the woods muttering to myself, don't be dismayed. I'm not losing it, I might possibly be finding it!

The Jesus school of Prayer

I want to go on a journey to learn how to pray. I've been troubled by this desire all my Christian life, and I've decided it's finally time to do something about it.

Those are strange words and they need explaining. After all, I'm a professional Christian, a vicar, a leader of a church. So I should be an expert on prayer, shouldn't I?

Except I know I'm not.

There have been times in my Christian life when God has been so close, so real to me that nothing else compares to the delight of knowing him and being known. At such times, there was nothing I would rather do than stay in his presence.

But they never last. Most of the time, I'm too distracted, busy, tired, lazy, or all four to lift a finger to try and find my way back to his shining presence. Then I feel ashamed of myself, and say angrily, “What kind of a Christian am I? Do I believe this God stuff or not? Why can't I make myself live it?”

That's a bit harsh. I'm not all bad. But I'm not all good either. I struggle with seeing things through. I've made dozens of fresh starts. Again and again I've said, “This time it will be different. This time I really mean it. This time...”

And what's so different about this time? Only the fact that it's public. Two years ago, I publicly committed myself to reading the Bible through in a year. And to my surprise, I did it. I managed to find time every day to read large chunks of it, even the boring bits. I think the going public helped. It gave me an accountability that I otherwise lacked.

So now I want to invite you to come with me on a journey of prayer. I'm going to be talking about seven different aspects of the God-language that I want to learn, spaced out over a year or more (I'm not sure how long it will take.) I will be introducing each aspect to my church family in a sermon, and committing myself to a series of actions that will help me explore this avenue of prayer for the next month or so. And inviting others to do it with me. During that month, I'll blog and tweet any insights, encouragements or discouragements, then report back and introduce the next chapter.

It's inspired, hopefully by God, but also by Gerard and Chrissie Kelly, who wrote a book called Intimate with the Ultimate in 2009. I'll be using their seven headings, which conveniently all begin with R. I know I'm not a real Christian preacher and teacher, because I can never get my points to all begin with the same letter. 

Anyway, on this journey we'll be looking at prayer that's

Relational

Rhythmic

Restless

Rich

Reciprocal

Rooted

Revolutionary

Come with me. Let's see where the journey takes us.

8 o'clock Spirituality

Every Sunday I crawl out of bed an hour and a half earlier than I would choose to, and sit in my freezing study getting ready for the 8am Communion.
My Twitter companions at this hour are a collection of fellow Anglican clergy, for I strongly suspect that no other Christians have this peculiar tradition.

Long ago, in a galaxy far away, a friend and I had a conversation that went along these lines: "When I'm a vicar the first thing I'll do is abolish the 8 o'clock Communion." But I've never done so, and I would never dream of it.
Non-Anglicans are probably thinking that we're mad. But perhaps you too have shivered in a muddy field at 6am, while an off key trumpeter leads a bleary congregation in a threadbare rendering of "Thine be the glory."

Yes, the Easter Sunrise Service. Another example of Christian Masochism at its best.

Taking communion fasting, is I suppose an example of this. The idea is that the first thing that should pass your lips on Sunday morning should be the bread and the wine - as a way of saying that God comes first in my life. So, in that respect, going to the 8 o'clock communion is in fact a way of taking it easy and cutting yourself some slack.
However, it can also be a Rule. Rules, with a capital R are not always helpful.
Once, a very intelligent elderly ecclesiastical lawyer confessed to me that he was no longer going to come to church, because he couldn't go out without any food inside him, he was too wobbly. It seemed the perfect example of self inflicted Pharasaism. Why elevate a pious habit into a Rule that cuts you off from worship?

Other 8 o'clockers describe their reason for early attendance in church as "it gets it out of the way."

Gets it out of the way??

Before the really important stuff of life, like washing the car or reading the Sunday papers? Again, a funny way of describing your devotion to the creator of the universe.

Leaving the negative thoughts aside, there is something about the quiet gathering of (nearly always) elderly people walking to church - yes they nearly always walk - that is very special. 8 o'clockers are faithful people.  Vicars often moan about how their congregations only come to church every other week these days. "When I was young," they say, "we went to church twice on a Sunday. Nowadays we have to count ourselves lucky if we see people twice a month!"
Not so the 8 o'clockers. They'll be there, every week. Without fail. Usually half an hour early, for reasons that are completely inexplicable. Why is it that the main morning congregation never arrive more than five minutes before the service is due to start, and usually 5-10 minutes after, while the 8 o'clockers are forming an orderly queue by 7.30?

Once, years ago, the service at the church I belonged to was televised. We were all in place with 20 minutes to go, listening to the countdown before we went live and began to worship, with a rising sense of excitement.

The 8 o'clockers could teach us a thing or two about anticipation and faithfulness.

Inspiration for Lent

Thanks to my friend Stephen Stokes who shared this on Facebook.



Lent is not just about giving things up, but taking something on.