Reflection on a year

Whilst I have been attempting to write my sermon for tomorrow, my mind is wondering to the other things I have to do this week as my placement at St Columba’s Church and Fulbourn URC draws to an end. One task is to write my reflection for my final placement supervision, and so I thought I might as well post this on my blog as well as submit to my Supervisor.

Over a year ago I went to see my College Principal, who was acting as my Tutor at the time, and said I needed experience and guidance in how to tackle pastoral encounters. I am an introvert, so putting me in a room of strangers with whom I am suppose to talk to kind of doesn’t work (it doesn’t always work when I’m in a room of people I know). Even if I dare to step out of the corner I have placed myself in, I struggle to make contact because I really have no idea what to say. Maybe it is something in my subconscious: a deranged idea that I have nothing worth saying, or that if I say something no one will hear me anyway. Who knows, all I know is that I’d rather not be there, as well as, very oddly, at the same sort of wanting to be there. If I had the power of invisibility I think I would have it sussed. However, ministry is primarily about pastoral encounters, so if this is what God has called me to do, then there is no hiding in the corner anymore or wishing I was invisible. I needed help to work this through and that is just what I was given.

From day one of my placement, I learnt that this was something that I was not going to overcome, but like my dyslexia, something that with time and perseverance I would learn to manage. A year down the line, walking in to the hall after the morning service isn’t quite as daunting as it once was. I do still find myself wondering what I do once I have my cup of coffee in my hand, but have moved towards making my way around the room and talking to people. Going to visit someone at home or in hospital is another task I have found very difficult to do. However, with the experiences I have had and the visits I have made accompanied and unaccompanied over the year, have given me confidence that this is not something I will never be able to do. This past week particularly has shown me this, as I have managed to do my first home visited when I hadn’t even arranged to go and see people. This required me to be strict with myself and not let the other things that had to be done push it of the bottom of the ‘to do’ list, I had to fix the time I was going in my diary, but once done, felt like a massive step forward. I still have a long way to go, and need to build my confidence in not being scared of silences or knowing what to ask or how to respond, but I am being to learn this is doable.

Pastoral encounters are not confined to just visiting, coffee, or shaking hands at the door. They are also occurring in an act of worship. What is heard may or may not speak to a situation a member of the congregation finds themselves in. What is offered as worship may or may not provide the space for an individual to connect with God. Any act of worship must be constructed in the context of the pastoral concern for the congregation whilst clearing being focused on what we are about—worshipping God individually and as a community. This has not been an easy task, especially when preparing for Sunday morning is not the only thing that has to be achieved in that week. I know that at times I have lack confidence in what I have prepared and struggled to pick the right tunes for the right hymns. My lack of confidence at times has not been without cause, particularly if there has been one area of my sermon where I grappled with what I’m saying, where the words have not come together quite right. Having someone else look over what I have written to either reassure me or point me towards what I’m missing or not quite grasped has been really beneficial. For a relative novice at sermon writing, having someone who will critically look at my sermons has not only help my confidence but has caused me to wrestle more with the theology as well as the exegesis of texts, and I hope has caused my sermons to improve. However, it is very easy to get dependent on this and there is not always going to be someone there to do that for me. This summer, when I have had the time on my own in pastorate I have had to do the process on my own, which has not been easy with some the passages the lectionary has offered. It is something, however, I feel I have successfully achieved, although when you have spent a long time staring at your own work it is much harder to be objectively critical.

My time at St Columba’s and Fulbourn has been invaluable, and something that not many of my fellow students at Westminster College have had the opportunity to do so early in their training. Maybe it is something that not all of us need to do, but it is something that although it has been hard work and at times exhausting, I am pleased I have done. It means that now I am looking forward to my final year and my nine months of supervision in pastorate, rather than dreading it.

Peace of Iona

Since visiting the Isle of Iona the other day I have been thinking about why people feel that it is a place they should make a pilgrimage to. I have to admit it wasn't quite what I expected, though I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting. It is clearly a tourist trap for the islands of the Highlands, with people flocking on to the ferry, many of whom end up at the Abbey, but the Abbey is no more than a stone church. The windows are no more than clear glass. There is no vaulted ceiling to gaze at in wonder at the craftmanship. It looks a church that in place has seen better days as the bracken grows through stone work. As I stood by the altar (yes altar... it was definitely not a table even it declares itself as a table) and looked out at the body of the Abbey, I struggled to see what it was that made this sacred ground worth make a pilgrimage too.
So it was St Columba's stomping ground, fair enough.  But is that only reason to be a pilgrim to such a place. What about that peace, that absorbing holiness, which I have experienced in other such places?
Maybe it was this particular day, maybe it was me, maybe I was expecting something that was unrealistic. But then I walked outside, I walked down to the beach and looked out across to Mull. Maybe what I was looking for was not within four stone walls, but what was outside surrounding it. Maybe that's why St Columba sat on a small hill outside to Abbey to work, rather than sit enclosed within it.
Who knows, but all I know that I will come back again to sit and stare out across to Mull.

Maintaining that new life in Christ

After much battling with Scripture over the past few weeks as I have faced the challenge of writing one and on occassions two sermons during the week, I thought I would share with you my sermon for this Sunday. I've chosen to concentrate on the Epistle, Colossians 3.1-11, but the gospel reading which accompanies it is Luke 12.13-21.

SERMON

Life is tough: there is no getting away from it, although sometimes I’m sure we all wish we could. And life as a Christian sometimes feels even tougher because of the example of Christ that we are trying to live up to and because of the continued seeking of God in every situation. Sometimes an unholy life seems far more attractive than a holy life. And this is where Paul’s letter to the Colossians finds them. They were struggling with living a holy life—their past attitudes to life were creeping back in. God’s plan was not just a little difficult to make out; it was completely unintelligible. The only way they seemed to know how to inform their present and their future was with their knowledge of their past. But Paul in his letter called for this to stop because the past was not to be determining the present and future anymore, for the past was buried when they died with Christ. He reminded them that the present and future were now determined by Christ, because of the new life they received when they were raised with Christ. What Paul was doing was reminding the Colossians of their baptisms and what it means to be baptised.

Baptism: the sacramental act which is first and foremost a gracious initiative of God—as St Augustine put it: baptism is an outward sign of an inward and invisible grace. However, this means that baptism is not just a gift of God , but that it is also our human response to that gift[1]. As a human response it is a means for us to confirm that we recognise we are one of God’s people and brings us into membership of the Church. It also marks the new life in Christ that has been embarked on—a new life metaphorically represented by Paul as clothing. The clothing which is your old life stripped off and your new life put on. In some Christian traditions the taking off of your old clothes and putting on a new white robe after emerging from the waters of baptism has turned Paul’s metaphor into a symbolic act. As the waters of baptism have the significance of washing away the dirt that encrusts our lives, so the new clothes give another dimension to our baptism that is often lost sight of. But as hard as it is to keep ourselves clean, white robes are notoriously difficult to keep clean too.

But firstly, what do these new clothes help us do? Well as any uniform does, they allow us to be identified, but as the argument went with school uniform when I was growing up, they are also the means for us to be undistinguishable from each other. There is no way for us to discriminate each other because we all look alike. So as Paul tells the Colossians to realise that once they had become one with Christ there was no longer Greek, Jew, circumcised, uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free (3.11), so must we see that in the Church there is no longer black, white, rich, poor, employed, unemployed, Cambridge United supporter or Cambridge City supporter. Putting on Christ in our baptism means that our only defining feature becomes the image of Christ, and maybe more pertinently the image of God, we reflect. The same defining feature as every other member of the Church, whatever their denomination or theological stance. This is because through our baptism, not only have we been made one with Christ, but we have also been made one with each other as part of the body of Christ. A theme that is not only here in Colossians, but something Paul tells other congregations he writes to. It is there in his letter to the Galatians and in his first letter to the Corinthians. We may have differences underneath our outer garment of Christ, but it is that outer garment that the world should be seeing and therefore what should unite us as we strive in our common goal of proclaiming the gospel. Actually, recognising this and acting in accordance with this, is as much a part of the proclamation of the gospel as is living a holy life and going out and telling people the good news that comes from Christ.

So that’s what our new clothes do for our relationship with each other, both with those inside and outside the Church, and for our communal life as the Church, but what about our individual lives? How does putting on Christ and wearing Christ affect that? Well if wearing Christ affects our relationship with each other then it must affect our relationship with God. Wearing Christ puts us right with God and right by God. God is not at a distance, but closer than touching distance. God allows us to see the world through him, but God also gets to see the world through us. By this I mean that through how we pray for the world, God get to see how we interpret the world. This closeness between God and humanity that wearing Christ brings means that how we view our lives must also change. When putting on Christ our living should become holy, our lives should become God-centred rather than self-centred. In Luke’s gospel we have the parable of the Rich Fool (12.16-21) who sets out to store up all his earthly treasures in one place, believing that with this done, he could live his life to the full. But then he does not make it, death comes before he has chance to live and his earthly treasures, well, there is no place for them in heaven. The Rich Fool misses the point of life and demonstrates the life which needs to be left behind when we put on Christ. Earthly treasures—our possessions, things that are material to life—should no longer be the focus of our concern. Our concern should be to live a life that is truth. This is more than just speaking or living honestly, it is about a life which as God-centred is free to see the reality of life, and importantly the reality of our own lives. For being clothed in Christ, isn’t just a means of covering up what is underneath. You don’t put new on over old, the old is removed before the new goes on. Paul reminded the Colossians that they had stripped off their old life and put on a new life. Baptism is part of that journey, part of that transit from old to new. And going back to the approach that has been and is taken in some Christian traditions of taking of old clothes, going through the waters of baptism and then putting on a new set of clothes, speaks of the cleansing of the old before the new. However, although Paul’s metaphor appears to make it a one step transition and is used as such in the act of adult baptism particularly, it is far from that, and maybe why the Colossians ended up slipping back into their old ways.

Baptism happens. We either make a conscious decision ourselves to be baptised, or the decision is taken for us. But at whatever point we take that step it doesn’t mean that we won’t struggle with what it means to live a holy life. It does not mean that our nice white robe won’t find itself getting a little grubby and slightly tatty looking. Baptism as that gracious gift of God and that human response which either marks for us the start of a new life in Christ or is for us simply a response to that life that God has made possible through Christ, does not entirely bring to the end what has been. It does not prevent us from getting distracted by the ways of the world. We are human after all and get easily distracted. Now, there is only one baptism—at whatever point we are baptised we have been welcomed into the family of God and are among the saints. But this does not mean that we should never revisit our baptism; that we should not look again at the promises made on our behalf or by ourselves. We do need to sometimes give that robe a bit of a clean off and make running repairs. That is why it is important we take time to make our confession to God; to look at the reality of our lives and recognise that we are not getting it quite right, that we have distanced ourselves from God’s guidance and sustenance. That is why it is important to reaffirm our baptismal promises and rededication ourselves to the service of God. Taking time to remind ourselves that to live a holy life, to live that new life in Christ, does not just require us to make one decision, to accept that gracious gift of God’s grace and go through one sacramental act, but that it requires maintenance. We need to repeatedly acknowledge God’s gift to us and how we loose sight of what that should mean in our lives and reaffirm the fellowship we have with each other and with God.

So as a community of God’s people,
let us remember that we have been baptised
and reaffirm our commitment to follow Christ.
In baptism, God has set us as a seal upon his heart.
In baptism, God has brought us into union with Christ,
made us one with all his people in heaven and on earth
and assured us of everlasting life.[2]

Amen

---

[1] World Council of Churches, Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, Faith and Order Paper No. 111, 1982

[2] Introduction from Renewal of Baptism Promises from Worship: from the United Reformed Church, 2003

Two weeks later...

Wow... two weeks (well almost) of being on my own in a pastorate and I survived and more importantly they survived. Two weeks ago I was loosing sleep over whether I could actually do this, and two weeks on, I'm just about back to only loosing sleep over my sermon. It has been a couple of weeks which have I guess shown me more of the reality of ministry. There has not been any one checking up on me; however people have been emailing me or coming to find me to tell me what they are doing. I realised the other day that could have spent the last two weeks watching TV and nobody would have know. Me not being in the office wouldn't phase anyone. Of course you have to deliver the service on Sunday and turn up to anything that you're expected at during the week, but other than that, the only person you appear to be accountable to is yourself.

This is something that I'm just not use to. When I was working for the NHS, my boss was pretty flexible, but we were expected to be in the office each day, unless otherwise agreed, and we did have weekly progress meetings and he'd appear every so often during the week to check up on something or other.  Then, of course, there were annual reviews. Now, annual reviews do exist within the church, as well as in college life, but weekly progress meetings or someone popping in to see how the sermon's going? I suppose you could say as ministers we are accountable to our congregations every Sunday - however, some of us could get away with spouting rubbish from the pulpit, as long as we have picked the congregation's favourite hymns.

Sometimes the only critic you have is yourself. But there is being critical of yourself and being critical of yourself. I know I am very good at putting myself and what I do down, but I also know when I could have done better or haven't put as much effort in as I could. And in ministry, this we then have to reconcile with God, for its for the good of God's kingdom we are working. It's not always going to go exactly to plan or be exactly right, and there will be weeks when however hard I try, my sermon will be far from perfect. But if I can honestly say on Sunday morning that I have at least attempt to wrest with what God's say in a text, its ok to pick the congregation's favourite hymns to cover up the interpretive mess that seems to be the resultant sermon.

Two weeks...

So another new week, week 4 of this part of my placement and now I'm on my own. I have just left my supervisor waiting for a bus, so that he can jet off to Ghana to attend a conference and visit some projects that St Columba's United Reformed Church, Cambridge, support. All will be well, and if it's not, it will soon be over!

Sat here this morning, thinking that I have pastoral charge of two congregations for two weeks, is really very daunting. Having just spent the weekend attending inductions and ordinations thinking I'm no near ready for that, whilst knowing it will be here sooner than I think, coupled with this morning's reality makes me want to hid under the desk for the next two weeks with my fingers in my ears. Alas, that is not an option, how ever much I wish it was, and at least it is only two weeks. What can go wrong in two weeks? Ok, a lot can go wrong in two weeks, but its not and if it does the opening verses of Psalm 121 come to mind:

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
   from where will my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
   who made heaven and earth.

Then I'll go banging on some doors in the hope that not everyone has gone on holiday this week.

Monday mornings...

Mondays, the day of the week very few people like. Numerous songs have been written about not liking Mondays, including the classics 'I don't like Mondays' by the Boomtown Rats, 'Rainy days and Mondays' by the Carpenters and 'Manic Monday' by the Bangles. (Hmmm... I hope that list isn't to telling of my musical tastes...) And why would anyone like Monday, because it means the weekend is over and its time to go back to work. So its no surprise that over the last few weeks I have really struggled to sit down at my desk on a Monday morning and get on with the tasks of the week. However, as a ministerial student currently on placement, Monday doesn't just mark the start of the week's work, it is also the day of the week that follows on from one of the most intense days of a minister's working week: Sunday.

Yes, I know the joke that goes ministers only work on a Sunday - if only that were true. Sunday usually comes at the end of a extremely busy week (well it does in the pastorate I'm currently working in), it is the day when you see most of the congregation, so there are a number of pastoral conversations to be had and the number of hours it takes to prepare that act of worship which is only an hour long, seems kind of ridiculous-but if you have every had to write a presentation for a conference then you might start to get the idea of what ministers have to do every week. And when you have more than one service on a Sunday, you really begin to not like Mondays.

So what should you do with Mondays? That was my question in this past week's supervision. Have it as my day off? An option, but what are day offs for? Processing Sunday's events? Possibly not, theological reflection is as much part of the job as everything else. And if issues have arisen during Sunday, leaving to them until later in the week isn't always wise. So what is the answer: Monday is not the day to start on next Sunday's services, but it is the day to clear away the past week; to tidy up the desk and do any reflection that needs doing. Of course, this is not always going to work, and its definitely not going to work this Monday, but I'm liking it as a model to strive for and am looking forward to once again liking Monday mornings.

Who's side?

Now that the academic year is over and I'm sat with my feet up, watching the world go by with plenty of time to muse about life, the universe and everything, I thought it was time to get blogging again. Don't want to let my theological reflection practice to slip!

Hmmm... to be sat around with my feet up, watching the world go by - now that would be nice. In reality I'm blogging to avoid sermon writing! Now almost a week back on placement and just about to start writing sermon number 3! The delusion that as a minister I only have to work Sundays has now well and truly evaporated.

As a student minister, being attached to a church in Cambridge has its advantages and disadvantages. There is always plenty of intellectual and simulating conversation to be had and you get to meet some amazing people who have done some amazing things for the advancement of knowledge and society. However, there is also a high population of retired ministers - Cambridge must rival Bognor in the statistics! When you add them into the mix with the academics, other ministers who are based in Cambridge with no pastoral charge and the members whose husbands, wives, parents and/or grandparents where ministers - the congregation becomes all of a sudden very daunting. Every at of worship you lead has the tendency to start to feel like an accessed service.

So when your supervisor turns to you and says he wants you to experiment, imagine the fear that gripped me. However, this was just a midweek service in the chapel with a congregation of around 8 individuals, who I have learnt over the year are not too scary. Fear subsided a little - then the congregation walked in - of the 10, four were ministers! If I could aparate, that moment was the moment I would have used that skill; but alas however much I wished I was somewhere else I remained where I was. But at least I could proved my supervisor and my college tutor wrong spectacularly!

There are some days when you have to wonder whether God does take sides - yesterday was one of those for me. Unfortunately, the experiment worked and my supervisor and tutor were proved right. No spectacular mess ups, theological fopars or fish impressions - only words inspired by God and delivered through the strength of God, for I didn't do it on my own.

Maybe God doesn't take sides, God just knows what's best. But since my tutor didn't witness the experiment, I might be able to keep my comfort blanket for a little longer :)