In These Days ( A poem – many of the
phrases in the poem are taken from talks we’ve heard – a collation and
elaboration)
In these
days of Covid chaos
Collective
confusion
And
separation
We need a
transfiguration without tabernacles
There’s no
space for distraction by tasks
In these
days we must be willing to be distracted by people
Their needs,
the gospel, enacted through
Serving
hands and wondering words
In these
days of change
From one day
to the next
With the ups
and downs of laws and legislation
Advice and statistics
and guidance
We need to support
each other
To be
cloisters of Christian hospitality and care
In these
days when words whirl and widen
We recognise
the absence and lack of silence
Heads and
hearts filled with fear and trepidation
Tiredness,
frustration and expectations
We need more
curious questions
And renewed
imaginations
In these
days we need to be humble
To hold
space for lament and self-care
And have a
willingness to pause
To pause
To pause
To pause and
stand with the confused and grieving
In these
days we know and are aware
That we need
to be leaner
Unencumbered
by the cumbersome
To be agile
To move out
beyond the lychgate
Re-imagining
the way we
See our
situation
And our part
in any solutions
Because we’re
part of the many
We’re not
the whole
Shaped by openness
and humility
Receptivity
and vulnerability
In these
days of top-down voices
We need to
be aware of our own cadences
And to seek new
Caedmons to sing new songs
Songs of the
voiceless
Songs of the
silenced
Songs
grappling with cognitive dissonance
Songs
freeing captives from violence
Songs in
regional tongues
Songs sung
from Spirit-filled lungs
In these
days
We long for
a church that
Re-fires the
Spirit
A church
that watches for the little sparks
And lights
the beacons
A church filled
with Aidans holding their torches aloft
In these
days we long for
A new
Pentecost – not the domain of the few but the many
A Pentecost
of online groups and innovation
A Pentecost
of preaching in the quietness of 8:30 Communion
A Pentecost
among the people of peace of our places
A Pentecost
of the local, rooted in the soil
A Pentecost
of flame that can’t be tamed
One that won’t
be held back by bricks and mortar
One that
will flow and spread like living water
Like a
baptism of water, fire and Spirit breath
A baptism of
hope in what is left
And what is
still to come.
A baptism of
Father, Spirit, Son
A baptism of
God, the three in one.
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