have you got a word?

New Year springs out from beneath the cellophane of the 2013 calendar. It is right here and will be here for whole year!

And with the arrival of a new year comes the arrival of that annual tradition...

The New Year's Resolution.

Except that this year people (lots of whom like Jesus) are subverting this cultural behemoth.

I keep hearing of different approaches people take. In 2012 a number of folk know had a hashtag #yearofthankfulness

And this was great.
People uploading photos everyday, of something they were thankful for.

Really loved that.

But then read I @sarahbessey 's blog. I'm not even sure how I came to know aout her.

But her blog had a great suggestion. One which there is a whole online movement about.

There's a website dedicated to this idea.

Rather than choosing a resolution. The principle is to choose a word.

It could be a word you know you struggle with. Or something you lack.

But you choose the word and go with it.

Bessey chose "fearless" and for a year whenever she encountered her fears, she faced up to them.

I like the sound of this way of doing things.

So I have chosen my word.

And when you hear my word you may think it is a cop-out.

But it isn't.

My word is "prayer".

Because realise that I have in the last 18 months lost my hunger for prayer.

I have lost the emphasis of prayer in my life.

For too many reasons I have let my relationship with God fizzle out.

But this word "prayer" is my way of claiming it back.

I will seek to pray everyday. And I mean really pray.

Talk and listen.

I will write "prayer" on my heart and on my hands.

I will turn to prayer before I turn to moaning and before I head towards

Anger and
Frustration and
Sadness.

Instead will pray.

Do you have a word?

What might your word be?

Everybody

Here's a quick poem. Couldn't just put up an audio file so had to make a little photo montage. Words to the poem are below.

 

Everybody

There’s no dance I would rather do.

There’s no hope I’d rather kindle.

Than the one I want to bring.

But the one I wonder about is broken beyond my dreams.

Another broken dream.

Everybody dreams sometimes.

Everybody hopes for these things to come true.

Everybody longs for it to be “me and you”.

Everybody has a dream to fly.

To soar up so so so high.

And everybody knows the sky goes blind.

Once you’re up above the highest heights.

Everybody has a time to cry.

Just as everybody has a time to die.

A time to drift and scratch.

A time to miss and match.

It’s always too soon to glide.

Never know just how far to try.

Always one thing or more holding us back.

But.

But everybody has a care in the world.

Everybody’s world is so so so absurd.

Everybody needs to try.

To respect what must be respected and reject what needs to be rejected.

There’s no way back from the other side.

And there’s no place for bravado and macho male pride.

Everybody hopes they’ll never need to cry.

And everybody speaks too much from their deepest insides.

And almost everybody has that feeling within.

Everybody wants to die sometimes.

Everybody hopes to never have to try again and

Everybody feels claustrophobic.

Everybody has a hunch that’s worth risk.

Always the same to never be sure and ready until.

Until everybody realises it’s high time to try.

Everybody quotes somebody sometimes.

And everybody longs for release and besides,

Everybody is too torn up by the people on either side.

Instead of just reaching out and putting a hand on their shoulder.

Everybody says the world feels colder.

But everybody knows its heating up.

Everybody wants to be bolder and live right.

Yet everybody’s pockets are too tight, too shut, too locked down,

And there’s no hope they’d rather kindle.

And there’s no dance they’d rather do.

There’s nothing left to bring but,

But broken dreams and tired, clapped out but inventive schemes.

Everybody’s dream at some point dies.

Unless that dream is breathed upon and held tight.

Everybody works their best to seize the day.

And everybody waves their hands to scare the crows away.

But everybody’s love is there on display.

And everybody’s whispered hopes disappear someday.

And all of everybody one day someday dies.

And everybody’s hopes won’t stay alive,

Unless,

Unless everybody tries to live beyond the lies,

To look square and straight at the true horizon,

Usually just out of view.

And everybody’s purpose is somewhere over on that point,

Everybody’s compass is muddied with loss,

Caked in dust and a veneer of false aspiration,

But everybody has a chance to refresh the stale heart,

And everybody is not alone, eternally forgotten.

And everybody doesn’t need to cry by themselves,

Dreams torn and tattered on the shelf.

Everybody has a hope that even they might not know.

Or might not see.

But everybody’s heart has strength in reserve.

But the tap can be shut too tight, too dry and rusted solid.

Everybody stares into space and hopes to see something twinkling in the stars.

Everybody glances in the mirror and sees something,

Everybody turns inwards once too often.

Everybody has a dream that died.

Everybody has a scheme they wish they’d tried.

Everybody has a hope that’s broken.

And everybody has a hope unopened.

Everybody has boxes scattered around their lives.

Everybody draws shutters tight on the inside.

Everybody dreams they’ll live before they’ll die.

And everybody sees through tired eyes.

And shattered sighs,

And broken cries.

Everybody knows disgrace at some point.

And embarrassment does the same.

And in time the moon and sun still do their revolve,

Problems solve,

Hopes remain unopened,

Hours pass by.

And for everybody, there’s a time to try.

For everybody there’s a time to catch the sky.

And for everybody there’s a time to clutch at why.

For everybody there’s a point too far.

For all the points of it all can seem so small sometimes.

And everybody has a hope before they die.

Everybody has a hope they might not try.

Everybody has a hope.

Everybody has hope.

Everybody hopes.

Everybody.

The art of reading nothing: or how I learned to still keep worrying about my current lack of reading

Today, I have squeezed a few jobs, pushed a few around, moved mountains, destroyed fortresses(!) and now find myself in a place where I have a few hours "spare" to do some reading. The hours are not really spare, though they should be.

As I sit down at my desk instead of reading, I start typing a blog post, using these most precious gifts: time, energy and inclination.

Time to read.

Energy to read.

Inclination to read.

But I'm not reading. And I'm not reading for a few reasons:

The first is because I am writing this.

The second is because I know that actually, while I have found time to read, I have a million and one jobs to do, and people waiting for those jobs to be done. Once again we come to the great question of time management, of what is essential and urgent, and essential and non-urgent, and etc etc etc.

But in the end, it all still amounts to too much sand in an already full sandbox.

So, I lay these things down, I accept this is the case, and I persist, no, I will still read.

Which brings me to the third reason I am not reading.

What do I read?

What can I read?

Because, before me are a number of books, all with validity and reasons to read.

I have the Diocesan bookgroup's book, Moberley's, The Theology of The Book of Genesis - which is fantastic. And which I need to read more of for a book group meeting in December.

But I also have John Inge's fabulous, Theology of Place which I need to dip into to complete the next part of my Diocesan IME assignment.

But at the same time, I really want to invest a bit more time in Michael Moynagh's Church For Every Context as I think through and prepare the new service to begin in January.

Yet, I'm also aware that I need to read some more devotional reading, and so Tozer stares at me.

I'd really like to take the advice of the Dean of Liverpool who on my ordination retreat before priesting encouraged folk to have a commentary on the go, being read parallel to the Bible, devotionally. So a commentary on Luke bought for that purpose, smiles down on me from the packed bookcase.

Then there's the three or four books in my, "started and love but must sort out the baptism and will pick this up some time" books, who sit, in a corner, a bookmark in each. Comparing notes. "He only read 20 pages of me" - "you're lucky, he only read my introduction".

Then there's the Bible. SHOCK HORROR. Sat, hopefully not collecting dust, but tempted.

And finally, there's the book I've been wanting to read, receipt tucked inside the cover. Glossy, shiny cover that it is. But this book worries me, will it too just find its way to the "started but not finished pile".

So I feel rather impotent about what I might read. I have a book of short stories on the go, and a magazine, but I don't want to read those things: I've managed to put aside 120 minutes to read deep and profound theological material.

It's timetabled in place. Scraped and shaped, into a busy week, but its a block of time.
120 minutes.

Well actually, now it's 119 minutes, and by the time I've made that cup of Earl Grey it will be closer to 110.

SynoT

the news filters through, synod says no, synot.

Through it all we still have to keep striving to embody love.

And to recognise that the need for women bishops isn't to pander to the societal expectations, but rather, to Jesus'.

My Family And I, We

My family and I, we
Meet together,
Whatever the weather.

My family and I, we
Greet each other,
We hold each sister and brother.

My family and I, we
Sing songs together,
And long forever, for a better time to come.

My family and I, we
Cry, we pour out tears together,
We share tears as treasures.

My family and I, we
Read together and we learn and know together,
We grow together.

My family and I, we
Walk together,
Towards the horizon of the highway together.

My family and I, we
Shout out together,
Against injustice and we will until the never never.

My family and I, we
Dance together, sway this way and that way,
As one endeavour.

My family and I, we
Ring bells together,
Calling out to forever.

My family and I, we
Carry bags and baggage as a single group,
Together.

My family and I, we
Protest together, for those with less than nothing,
And we will on and on into the ever ever.

My family and I, we
Pray together,
We say the grace together.

My family and I, we
Face the cross together, we turn to the cost together,
Now and forever.

My family and I, we
Eat together, with Father, Spirit, Son,
As one together.

My family and I, we
Live faith together,
We desecrate barriers between race and hate together.

My family and I, we
Strive to stay together, as one,
As long as forever.

My family and I, we
Wait for the Son as a single one together,
We turn from "I" to "us" together,
Now and forever.
AMEN.

Broken We Gather

Some words to a hymn without much of a tune or rhythm (except the currently one in my head).

Broken we gather,

Aware of our faults,

Shattered and bothered,

And wrecked with our doubts,

But the light of the saviour,

Shines through into the dark,

His Spirit, it guides us,

Beyond all our fears.

The wonder of nations,

The catcher of tears,

No place is too far away,

From his outstretched arms,

The embrace of the saviour Son,

Reaches down into despair,

Where the tyrants of hate

And sadness reside,

His grace is enough for all,

His peace will reside,

No woe is beyond him,

No sinner-saint apart from his love,

The outreaching, all loving,

God who calls us home,

Draw near to his scars,

And hold aloft your own.

A top five of practical things for a deacon

I'm writing this short blog post as it's been on my mind for a while, and 
it was confirmed that I should write it, when a photo of a "pastor's toolkit" appeared on a deacon's timeline.

The five things I have to offer are not necessarily five things that are the most theologically pertinent or indeed powerful, but simply five things that I have used that have been helpful in the last year.

Naturally things like a BIBLE, COMMON WORSHIP, a HOME COMMUNION set are handy too!

1. Holding crosses: these little holding crosses are shaped to fit in the palm of your hand, they become a symbol of Christ's presence in situations where it is not possible for people to pray. When it feels like God is absent.

I buy these things in bulk, and I give them out in almost that bulk. They are available from charities that work with olive wood within Palestinian communities near Bethlehem. They are perfect for hospital visits. I give them to folk who are in difficult situations. This year I have given about forty of them out. And not just to Christians. Two instances are striking. One lady received one before going on a long-haul flight of which she was petrified. One lady received one when she was in intensive care. Next time I visited she was unconscious but the cross was firmly wedged in her hand. CHRIST IS PRESENT. The holding cross doesn't make him present, but it serves as a timely reminder.

2. A portable projector which has no need for a PC but accepts SD cards and USB flash pens: A multi- media PICO PROJECTOR might sound like a bit of an extravagance (and it is), but I have used this thing endlessly.

As a new deacon I was invited to give talks and to go to house groups and give more talks and to the Methodists and give more talks. Meetings in churches, in lounges, in halls. Bringing your own technology to illustrate your words.

Also, alternative worship sessions. Contemplative prayer evenings. Have Holy Trinity icons on repeat. Watch beautiful movies in an informal cafe church setting. Log on to VIMEO and go crazy.

3. A fold up table: A small one, about a foot square table surface is enough. I do home communions and communions in residential homes. Rather than making a mess and in the case of dementia care homes (from my experience) potentially causing distress, bring your own table. Mine resides permanently in my boot.

4. "Sorry I missed you" cards: Postcards with a picture of the church on one side and a simple message saying something like, 'I called to visit' and your name and address and email and phone number. Leave some space where you can write messages. Get them printed professionally, challenge the culture of shoddy black and white church photocopying. Carry them and a pen with you.

5. A visits bag: I have a bag which I use for visits. The reason I have A bag for visits, rather than a number of bags, is that it allows me to keep things in there permanently that I will often use on a visit. Things like, some pens, some Sorry i missed you cards, some holding crosses, a New English Hymnal, a New Testament with Psalms (given at deaconing), a Common Worship Pastoral services book. A fold up umbrella. Five pounds petty cash in change.

They are just suggestions...... but they've worked for me.