Sound the retreat...

In recent weeks, I have been challenged to think about the business of 'going on retreat'. I have always found this an odd concept because the word retreat has a mixture of meanings, and it is the one of running away that always comes to my mind first. Yet, in a holy life, in a life that strives to walk in the footsteps of Jesus, 'retreat' should be a part. Jesus often took himself away from the crowds and his disciples, to pray, spend time with God and prepare for the next step along the path that he was travelling. And a poignant example of this is that moment in the garden of Gethsemane, although anguished, was a time of retreat, preparation, a time with God.

In a busy schedule, with more work to do than is probably feasible in the hours available, 'going on retreat', especially when you're not quiet with the programme, goes by the wayside. Or so I might think. As I was out walk the dog, thinking about this question of should I be making time to 'go on retreat', I realised that actually I was at that moment on a sort of 'retreat'. Out on that path with the dog, away from the books, meeting agendas, telephone and emails, I quietly walk with God mulling over what has been and what is to come.

Now, I pretty sure there are those out there who will tell me that really isn't enough. I really should make time and 'go on retreat'. And I get it, honest, but I just cannot shake that picture of running away. Will spending a few days at a Retreat House, really prepare me what is next, or do I need to be 'on retreat' where maybe the trouble can find me, like in the garden of Gethsemane?

Last year, Luther (that's the dog not the Reformer) and I walked a path through the Suffolk countryside that links two places in the pastorate I partly serve. We did this to raise money for a couple of causes and so walked with purpose, with our sights on the end. Yet, as I shamefully watched the romantic comedy 'About Time' last night, I began to wonder if it was time to walk that path again, but this time with a little less purpose. In the film, the key character has the inherited gift of travelling in time, and his father, also with this gift, guides him through how best to use it. And one thing his father suggests is that he lives each day twice, once as it comes and the other taking the time to look around and take pleasure in different moments within the day. And maybe as I prepare for what is ahead in the pastorate I serve in the coming months, that is what I need to do. Not living each day twice (that would be a little impossible), but walking a path that is significant, taking time and not just aiming for the end.

So maybe there lies the answer for what 'going on retreat' has to be for me... well at this moment in my ministry at least.

Dancing Sheep

I realise I have not posted for some time on my blog... ministry, a PhD and a dog have meant that blogging has become something I did rather than I do. However, I have just had to sit down and right the church magazine pastoral letter for next month and thought I would share it as stand on the eve of Pentecost...

Living in a county where farming and agriculture is still a big part of its economy, the fact there are annual events that promote these crucial industries is good. And going along to some of these things when the sun is shining is even better. However, as I stood watching, and enjoying, the Sheep Show at the Wool Fair at Ickworth House, I got to thinking about how what was happening here is maybe something we’ve lost the ability to do as the church—well that was until the sheep started dancing! 

The Sheep Show, like the other demonstrations at the fair, were there to educate the crowds about sheep, what they provide us with, and how important they are. They also showed how farmers/shepherds manage their flocks and care for them. It was all good stuff, engaging adults and children alike. Those who were speaking were passionate about what they did and clearly wanted to share the joy they had in their work, although at times it was hard. If only we could be like that about our faith, I thought to myself. But then came the gimmick, the crowd-pleaser to end the show—the sheep dancing! Or more accurately, the sheep vaguely moving to music.

 Why? What was the need? Why is the passion for what you do not enough to get across what you are trying to tell the crowds.

 It is all too easy, I suppose, to think that the only way a message might get across is by dressing it up some way, especially if it lightens a heavy topic. But is there not a risk in this? That we spend more time trying to get the sheep to dance than working out what the important facts are that need to be shared and remembered!

 The Church is now in the season of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit is again at the forefront of our thoughts, as is what the Holy Spirit has done and can do in the life of the Church. It should be the time, like that first day the disciples experienced the true power of the Holy Spirit, when the Church is again impassioned to speak, to tell it as it is! But are we? Or are we busy searching for the gimmick that will draw the crowd better than just us talking passionately about what we believe? The Holy Spirit is here to empower us to speak. So maybe it’s time to take the easy option and tell the world what is really on our hearts. And that doesn’t require dancing sheep!

A prophet: Who? Me?

It has been some time since I have posted anything on my blog, I realise, but now that I am nearly a year in to ministry I thought I should offer something of a reflection on that year. There is much I could say, much I could tell, and much I really cannot put down into words. There have been highs, points of great celebration, along with some lows and even moments of dispair. However, as my reflect on the year, I want to share with you a reflection I wrote in recent weeks for a weekly time of worship one of my churches has in the middle of the week. It is a reflection that is based on the opening of the book of Jeremiah - Jeremiah 1.4-10. It reflects some of what commentators say about this passage and the prophet Jeremiah, but also reflects very much on where my journey so far has taken me... 

I did try to make an excuse, to find a reason why not; I even tried to explain that I was far from ready. What I had been asked to do, what I was expected to do, was no small thing and at that point I did not know what sort of burden, what sort of unbearable strain the task would put me under.

The words “a prophet to the nations” seem so simple to say, even have a grandeur about them that maybe the speaker thought that that would make them hard to resist. But what did I have to say that was worth listening to? Even among family and friends my voice had often gone unheard, so how was I ever going to make myself heard among the nations? But of course the answer can never be ‘no’. There was a counter argument to all that I argued that I could not dispute. And even my reason for ‘no’ which was critical to what I had been asked to do had been swept away with a touch of a hand and the words: “I have put my words in your mouth.”

Since then I have watched my life, as was, stripped away. I’ve gone to places and depths I never thought I would ever reach. I have experienced things that would have broken me beyond repair if I had relied on my own resources.

God called me to be “a prophet to the nations”, but that did not just mean me speaking up and speaking out. It meant me listening. Listening to God’s voice, God’s words, with a level of attentiveness far greater than you might expect. It meant me examining God’s words with respect to my own very being before proclaiming their sometimes harshness but reality to others. God’s words were, are, not just for the nations—they were and are for me too.

And it is this truth that gives me the authority to speak and to declare and know that I do not speak in my own strength. I do not go from place to place under my own steam, for all I do, I do through and in the strength of the one who called me; who has known me from before I was born.

Do not fear... REJOICE!

I am sure my Old Testament tutor would have something to say to me about my exposition of Zephaniah and bringing Moses into things (I always got in to bother when I tried to tackle anything Moses related), but here is where I ended up after spending the week reflecting that this Sunday, the third in Advent, was 'Guadete Sunday'.

SERMON: DO NOT FEAR, BUT REJOICE!
based on Zephaniah 3.14-20 and Philippians 4.4-7

“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…” (Zephaniah 3.16b-27a)
so “Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4.4a, 5b)

Fear, trepidation, uncertainty, injustice to be replaced by celebration, jubilation, joy! Advent will soon become Christmas when all darkness is to be dispersed by the glorious dawn of an endless light! Yet, in the shadow of recent events, this seems completely incomprehensible and if not, totally out of the question. How can we have a party when there is the threat of terror knocking at our door? How can we be merry and joyful when so many will once again be starting over when the flood waters finally recede? This is not a time to sing aloud songs of exultation; rather it is a time to weep, mourn and cry out all that is wrong. On a day such as today, with all that is wrong in the world blazoned across the headlines, how can the Prophet tell us not to fear? How can the Apostle tell us to ‘rejoice’? Is it because they do not understand? Is it because they are not of our time? No, they do understand for they knew the darkness of this world as well as we do. The reality of the world in the time of Zephaniah was idolatry, corruption and injustice. Paul wrote to the church of Philippi from a prison cell, and it was not just Paul who was in trouble, the church was too. There was conflict between its leaders and the community was also under persecution from the outside. The same darkness that surrounds us surrounded them; the same struggles we face, they faced; yet the words of the Prophet and the Apostle to their time, and to us now, were:

“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…”
“Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.”

Traditionally this Sunday in Advent has been known as ‘Guadete Sunday’ or ‘Rejoice Sunday’ if we translate the Latin. It was the Sunday when the disciplines of Advent preparations were relaxed so that a foretaste of Christmas joy could be proclaimed. Not a bad idea, especially as the third Sunday in Advent is when it dawns on many of us how unprepared we are for Christmas and how few days are left to get ourselves sorted. An injection of joy is just what is needed as an apathy for the season sets in and all that is on our minds are thoughts of disaster and chaos. Yet although this Christmas joy is sure to lift our spirits and potentially relieve the pressure of our preparations for at least a little while, I wonder if there is more to this than what we might normally term the ‘festive spirit’. So what exactly is this Christmas joy that is to be proclaimed? And why today when our festive spirit is truly wavering and there is a real deep sense of darkness in the world should we be even more enthusiastic to proclaim it?

Zephaniah’s song is a welcomed break from the gloom and despondency that fills much of the rest of the book of the prophet. Zephaniah has been, it appears, driven to near-despair over the sorry condition of Judah’s life since the reign of King Manasseh. Yet, with King Josiah now on the throne, there was some hope of change, for Josiah sought to reform the kingdom and re-establish the statutes and ordinances of the Sinai covenant. Yet at Sinai, it was not just statutes and ordinances Moses received for the Israelites to live by, it was also the place where God’s covenant with the people was once again restated. It was also the place where God came to be amongst the people in the tent of the Tabernacle. To go back to that time, to live again with that real sense and knowledge of God’s presence and all that would mean as it did for the Israelites in the wilderness could not be kept to oneself—Zephaniah had to tell Judah all about the potential for God’s return, and because of how this knowledge had lifted his spirits the only way for Zephaniah to proclaim it was to sing a song of joy. All judgement was to go and all suffering to end, for once again God’s promises could be fulfilled. Zephaniah, through the throne of King Josiah, could see the potential for reign of darkness coming to an end. There was no further need for the people to fear, for the Lord, their God, could again come into their midst! It was time to rejoice and be glad and sing aloud exultations from the heart.

This image of God being amongst the people isn’t, however, just Zephaniah’s vision—Paul had the same vision. He tells the Philippians that ‘the Lord is near’ (Philippians 4.5b). However, the Philippians understanding of this will have likely been very different from the understanding of the Israelites, for they were living, just as we are, after the time of Christ and talk of the Lord coming near most likely meant Christ’s return. And it is Christ’s return that we predominantly speak off during the season of Advent. This is the time when we long and wait for Christ to come again, not just in the story of that first Christmas, but physically and spiritually. And to truly know that that time was near had to inspire the Philippians, as it should us. To know of Christ’s return fills one with great anticipation, but to know that it is immanent has to bring uncontainable excitement, potentially even joy. This joy, however, that we hear in Paul’s message feels subtly different from the joy in Zephaniah’s message, when we consider the knowledge of the original hearers. And this is emphasised by how one commentator describes the joy that Paul talks of in his letter to the Philippians. It is described as something that has a deep sense of longing but is also patient—a waiting filled with wanting—but also allows the one in possession of it to pray for their anxieties and receive the peace which is deeply rooted in God. This feels like a much muted version of joy, compared to what we might expected to it mean having experienced joy for ourselves and through the words of the prophet Zephaniah. It works as a definition with respects to our understanding of Advent, but is this really the Christmas joy that this Sunday calls us to proclaim, especially when we see joy through the lens of the words of the prophet Zephaniah?

For us to consider light and darkness during this season is not uncommon. At some point during our Advent and Christmas celebrations within the church we will read those fantastic words from the opening of the gospel of John which talk of the light coming into the world and the darkness not being able to overcome it (John 1.5). We will hear the words of the prophet Isaiah telling us of the people who walked in darkness seeing a great light (Isaiah 9.2). But where is God—in the light or in the darkness? In the light, of course, I hear you say; it is Jesus who is the light of the world, after all. And you are not wrong, but what if I was to say that God is also in the darkness?

Zephaniah, although a prophet did not sing about God coming amongst the people, nor did he look back and sing of God being amidst the people; he sang “the Lord, your God, is in your midst” (Zephaniah 3.17a). God’s presence was there in the darkness that Zephaniah was experiencing, just as God is present in the darkness that we are experiencing. We shouldn’t be rejoicing because the Lord will soon be with us, we should be rejoicing because God is here, because there is another way to read the word ‘near’. I think Paul meant that God is in our intimate surroundings, not coming in the near future. And why do we need to see God in the here and now? Well, if the world is to change, then it can only change if God is present because it is God’s presence that heals, enlivens and challenges humanity and turns that darkness into light. And this is the Christmas joy that has to be proclaimed and why we should rejoice this Sunday. God has not just been in the world, nor is God just due to come into the world again; God is in the world, now!

So hear the words of the Prophet and the Apostle:
“Do not fear… The Lord, your God, is in your midst…”
“Rejoice in the Lord always… The Lord is near.”

©Elaine S Colechin, 2015

Living in the shadow...

It is fairly difficult not to live some or all of our lives in the shadow of someone. If it is not within our working lives then there is often someone within our families. Sometimes we know that we are living in that shadow; other times we don't. Sometimes they are a person we continually remind ourselves of and other times they are a person someone is always reminding us of. To live in that shadow can make life unbearable; can mean we are always looking over our shoulders.

Although it is something I was very much aware of when I started out in ministry, in the past couple of months, the fact that I am now living in the shadow of another has become very much a reality. The photographs of previous ministers that don walls in vestries or vestibules; the dropping of a previous minister's name into a conversation and being told that's not how the previous minister did it. In the first few months of ministry, it is not an easy place to inhabit because there is always the sense that you are being compared to the one who came before.

In a small denomination, the likelihood of you knowing something of the previous minister is quite high. But the probability of finding yourself called to the previous pastorate of a college tutor must be quite low. However, here I stand in that shadow and its an odd reality. I have caught myself questioning whether my congregations think I will do something a particular way because I have been taught by their previous minister. I have found myself feeling a little bit like piggy in the middle because of old arguments that have left their scars. I have even had moments where I have wanted to shout I am not the previous minister I'm me, when for the hundredth time someone has said, "oh so you're the new [previous minister's name]". But instead laughed it off.

Shadows... if only we didn't have to live in shadows. But we do, there is no getting away from them because we even cast our own shadows which eventually someone else with find themselves in, even if it unintentional from our perspective. I guess all we can do is try and live with that shadow, rather than in it. Use the knowledge that it provides, rather be overwhelmed by it. After all, it is just a shadow, even if you know the person who originally cast it.

When you don't think you've got the right sermon for the right congregation...

This past Sunday's lectionary could have taken me in lost of different directions, but I'm always a little surprised at where I end up by the time I've finished my sermon. And this week, once I had got to the end I thought that the sermon I had was most probably better suited for one of my other congregations than the one I was leading worship on Sunday morning, but as this is what had landed on the page, there wasn't much I could do about it. So here is the sermon I preached on and one that more than one person left saying gave them 'food for thought', even though I was sure I was preaching it to the wrong crowd...

The scipture readings we were considering were: Mark 8.27-38, James 3.1-12 and Proverbs 1.20-33

I am sure many of us have walked through town or city centres and heard the street-corner evangelists shouting at passers-by. But how many of us have ever stopped to listen to what they have to say? There was a group in Bury St Edmunds the other Saturday whom I walked passed. And as I passed by I heard one of them shouting about how they had been at the bottom of the pile, but once they were saved, life had never been better. They were shouting the sort of things that makes me feel really uncomfortable if I’m honest, and, in my opinion, gives ‘evangelism’ a bad reputation. But later on I was walking along a parallel street to where this group were positioned and I heard another one of them shouting, but this time it wasn’t their life story they were shouting about, instead they were giving passers-by the advice to watch where they were walking! It was one of those moments when I did almost stop to listen—where was this advice to the shoppers to watch out for undesirable things they could walk in on the pavement going. But my intrigue didn’t last long because in the words of the speaker the pavement seemed to becoming more and more littered, and having just walked down that street myself and having not seen any of that, I concluded that the person was heading towards some sort of ‘repent or burn’ teaching, which I just couldn’t listen to, so I hurried on.

However, despite how uncomfortable I am with what many of these street-corner evangelists shout, I do have to feel a little sorry for them. Standing there, day after day, with no one listening, has to be soul destroying after a while. But I wonder if anyone has become so discouraged they have come up with a similar repose to the one we heard from Wisdom in the book of Proverbs? In Proverbs, Wisdom has given up shouting about ‘Good News’ and instead turned to shouting the bad news that comes from no one being bothered to listen her; to heed the good advice she’s been giving them; to take interest in the great knowledge and wisdom she had been trying to share with the people. In fact what Wisdom says is callous and unforgiving. It is a fine example of an Old Testament rebuke when the people had not heeded the word of God and the only option left open to them was to fear God!

Yet, with the marrying of these verses from Proverbs with those from the letter of James and the gospel of Mark, I have to think that this week’s lectionary isn’t so much a challenge for us as a whole, but rather one for the preacher. After spending years standing in the pulpit, with the pews still half-empty and enthusiasm for doing anything remaining at a constant low, it would be very easy to get caught up in the words of Wisdom and say ‘Amen sister’. But should the preacher be making such a response? Can the fact the pews are half-empty and the general lack of enthusiasm remains, really only be blamed on the congregation and/or local community? Or should the preacher be questioning their own ability to listen; their own ability to pay attention to what Wisdom has attempted to share with them?

“Who do you say I am?” was Jesus’ question to the disciples (Mark 8.29). Here again we have another slightly confusing discourse between Jesus and the disciples. It seems to have been quite a straight forward, ‘passing the time of day’ conversation until the point where Jesus asks his question of them. The disciples had been merrily feeding back to Jesus what they had heard as they had been travelling around the villages. But then Peter, in true Peter style, replies: “Well you’re the Messiah, of course!” and then everything becomes a little awkward. Now whether Jesus’ teaching of the disciples did follow straight after this comment of Peter’s and Jesus’ response is open to debate. However, in the editing of these two stories together, the author of Mark has done something quite clever, which might just go towards explaining some of Jesus’ ‘be quiet’ reproofs. Very often in Mark, when the author reports Jesus as telling people not to tell anyone, commentators talk about the secrecy of Mark and the author not wanting Jesus’ true person to be disclosed before the end of the story. And in these verses from Mark, that is happening, but in how these two events are linked another reason for why there needs to be this secrecy opens up. In most of these situations when Jesus then tells people to ‘be quiet’, the disciples and others haven’t quite got to grips with exactly who Jesus is yet, and therefore Jesus wants them to be much wiser with their choice of words when talking about him. Give Peter his dues; he knew his scripture and the promise of a Messiah. And he was right to make the connection between the Messiah and who Jesus was. But what Peter thought the Messiah would do and what he actually did, and does, are two very different things. So Jesus was trying to get the disciples to guard their language, and make sure they truly understood who the Messiah was before they started spreading the news. How does the saying go: “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing!” So to avoid that danger, it is sometimes better to stay quiet, at least until you are better informed. But as preachers and teachers, I have to ask myself, do we always do this? It is one of those traps that can be easily fallen into when you have a little knowledge on a subject area. Before you know it you are sounding like an expert, all because you’ve verbally crafted some educated answers to questions on topics that if you’re honest you know very little about. And this is at the centre of Jesus’ rebuke of Peter and the cautionary tale from the letter of James. They are words that all preachers should heed because of the authority that standing in the pulpit gives and the weighty responsibility that goes along with this authority.

The author of the letter of James points out how our use of language can be a powerful thing and because it is so powerful it is also dangerous. In fact, in the twelve verses we heard, the author aptly demonstrated this with the dramatic use of metaphor. A vast forest can be reduced to a pile of ashes by a single, tiny flame, just as a one misused, misplaced word can destroy true meaning in an instant. It is a levelling thought for when preparing a sermon. As the one expounding Scripture, do you really understand what you are talking about? Is what you are saying really what you mean? Is your response to the texts of the day more in line with Peter’s speedy response to Jesus question “Who do you say I am?” or have you taken the time to listen to the counsel of Wisdom? The advantage of a sermon is that at least you have the time to think about the words you use to try and ensure you have the knowledge to support what you are saying. And if as preachers, we are not doing this then we need to stop and reflect on our practice, because if we are not taking the time to listen to Wisdom then we are on very shaky ground. But that is all well and good for those of us set apart to do the Sunday morning slot, but what about the rest of us? Is there something in these texts that are a challenge not just for the preacher but for all of us? Well what about when you find yourself in a conversation on a street corner and that impossible question comes from nowhere? What do you do when the little knowledge you have is not enough?

The response you are very often taught in presentation skills when those awkward questions come up is: “good question, let me give that some thought and I’ll come back to you.” However, that kind of response doesn’t work in a brief encounter on a street corner, but maybe this is where some of the other wisdom that the author of the letter of James shares with us might be helpful. If you can cast your minds back a couple of weeks when we heard from the first chapter of James, we heard the phrase: “Everyone must be quick to listen, but slow to speak…” (James 1.19b) If we take time and don’t rush to make our response, very often in what we hear the person saying, the question doesn’t come quite out of the blue and some response can be made that it true to what we know. And also if we take time to listen, it means we also have time to listen to what God is saying in these situations, which very often leads us to having just the right words to say.

How ever much Wisdom wanted to just speak a message of doom, she couldn’t end her reproof without a glimmer of hope: “But whoever listens to me will have security. They will be safe, with no reason to be afraid.” (Proverbs 1.33) Whether preacher, teacher or occupier of a pew, if we take time to listen and reflect before we speak, then God will be at hand and there will be no need to fear. And our answer to the question “Who do you say I am?” will not be without knowledge or wisdom of what the true response is and what that means.

It is amazing what happens sometimes!

 

 

Changing landscape

So the date of my ordination draws ever closer and I have heading into the pastorate where I will serve. As I drove through the lanes of Suffolk the other day to cross the border into Cambridgeshire, the county in which two of my four churches reside, the reality of what is before me hits. This landscape of farmland and twisting lanes dotted with villages, is a changing landscape. Not just because it is harvest time, but because of what is happening with the populations. There are those who live in these villages who are born and bred, yet there are also others who have moved into villages. It is the same story across the country. But what does it mean to move into a community, to join a community?

Society does seem to have changed in recent time. Belonging to something, being a member of something, doesn't seem to mean the same as it once did. In towns and cities, this I think has become something that the church has slowly begun to wake up to, but what about in these idyllic, somewhat sleepy, corners of rural Britain?

These are questions which I think will be in the background of many conversations I will have in coming months. These are questions I will theologically reflect on as I start on this ministry as I myself move into communities, communities where I potentially only be in for a certain period of time. They are questions I will most probably refleict on and wrestle with throughout my ministry. These are questions I will need to help others explore.

So as the harvest is gathered in and the surrounding landscape changes, for four churches and myself things are changing in our landscapes too. Whether together we come up with any answers to these questions is to be seen, but together I'm sure we will wrestle with them as we seek to be God's people in the communities we live and work and the communities we belong to.