We've recently been enjoying The Jesus Storybook Bible, here's this weekend's gospel reading...
The Nativity, Luke 1-2
Everything was ready. The moment God had been waiting for was here at last! God was coming to help his people, just as he promised in the beginning.
But how would he come? What would he be like? What would he do? Mountains would have bowed down. Seas would have roared. Trees would have clapped their hands. But the earth held its breath. As silent as snow falling, he came in. And when no one was looking, in the darkness he came.
There was a young girl who was engaged to a man named Joseph. (Joseph was the the great-great-great-great-great grand son of King David). One morning this girl was minding her own business when, suddenly, a great warrior of light appeared - right there, in her bedroom. He was Gabriel and he was an angel, a special messenger from heaven.
When she saw the tall shining man standing there, Mary was frightened.
"You don't need to be scared," Gabriel said. "God is very happy with you!" Mary looked around to see if perhaps he was talking to someone else.
"Mary," Gabriel said. and he laughed with such gladness that Mary's eyes filled with sudden tears.
"Mary, you're going to have a baby. A little boy. You will call him Jesus. He is God's own son. He's the one! He's the Rescuer!"
The God who flung planets into space and kept them whirling around and around, the God who made the universe with just a word, the one who could do anything at all - was making himself small. And coming down ...as a baby. Wait. God was sending a baby to rescue the world?
"But it's too wonderful!" Mary said and felt her heart beating hard. "How can it be true?"
"Is anything too wonderful for God?" Gabriel asked.
So Mary trusted God more than her eyes could see. And believed. "I am God's servant" she said. "Whatever God says, I will do."
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Advent 16 - The Christmas Story
We had a day full of little people today, so when I finally logged on it was lovely to find an email pointing me to this, Christmas in the words and acting of little people. Thanks Mrs B!
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Advent 14 - underground blessings
Today I went up to London at rush hour for the first time in a long while. It was crazier than ever and I let three tubes go at Victoria before I was brave enough to try and muscle my way in.
On the way out I saw a man having a similar struggle getting onto the up escalator, I paused for a brief moment and gestured for him to jump on. His eye's almost popped out of his head and he did a double take as he stepped on. It made me smile.
I was then delighted on my return journey to see a poster about Michael Landy's Art on the underground project. It just encourages tube users and staff to report acts of kindness. The Guardian critic thought it was devoid of enchantment and it's certainly not the most magical of ideas but I LOVE the celebration of kindness in this way and found the range of stories heart-warming.
Here are just a few...
I was on the Tube from City Airport into town when two men in suits got on opposite me, talking business. As they talked, one of them took a sheet of paper and started folding it. He made a beautiful origami flower, and just as he was about to get off, turned and presented with a smile to the young woman sitting next to him. The smile quickly spread to her, and then to everyone else in the carriage as we saw the look of surprise and delight on her face.
I was trying to pass an elderly man in the train to get off. By coincidence we both kept stepping in the same direction. As we eventually got round each other, he joked, “You dance divinely!” I was feeling a bit bothered by the experience but that made me laugh. It was a sweet thing to say and it made an annoying situation fun. That’s a form of kindness, I think.
Once, I was on the Tube travelling back from my friends' house in Clapham. An Aussie guy got up and made everyone play musical chairs - every stop for about 10 stops, it was still going when I had to get off. Some of us were very English and reserved at first, then politely amused, but in the end he got us all joining in. Still makes me smile to remember it.
Between Victoria and Vauxhall, I was weeping. A woman asked me gently, "Are you alright, my dear?" And I said, "No. My father died." She moved to sit next to me and held my hand. I talked about my father's love. She talked about losing her son. She closed her eyes, and as she prayed to Jesus, I prayed to Allah, for the strength to walk that chasm where grief resides. At Vauxhall, I left, saying goodbye to a woman whose name I do not know, but who had reached deep into my heart.
I'll leave the last word to this passanger...
I'm from Liverpool and just started working in London and having had knee surgery was wary getting the train and Tube on crutches. I'd heard all the stories about rude and inconsiderate London commuters. So I was hugely surprised that I got offered a seat every day on both the Overland train and the Tube. I think sometimes people just need the opportunity to be kind.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Advent 13 - Christmas Is Waiting
Christmas is waiting to happen.
Outside, a vacant hillside
lies silent, strangely empty
of any angel's choir.
A stable waits
for bookings at the inn to multiply.
Distant kings study charts
and keep gifts in cold storage,
while shepherds plan their memoirs
in expectancy of unexpected fame
and keep a chapter free for miracles.
A small velvet patch
in the black night sky
stands ready to hold a newborn star,
and oppressed people everywhere
cling wildly to a prophecy and a song
and whisper the word: Messiah.
They've switched on the lights
in Oxford Street,
counting off the buying days,
like guardsmen on parade,
shops are stocked and standing by,
revving up the engines
of their debt-powered swiping machines,
and history watchers mark another year
in the slow count to 3000.
But here an old man lies
in the stairwell where he fell three days ago
and no one knows.
Here a young girl loiters
in a streetlight's unholy halo
to sell the only thing she owns
that men will pay for.
And here an infant sleeps
on a sack on the hard earth floor
where even a mother's hand
is empty,
and there are places where Christmas
is still waiting
to happen.
Gerard Kelly,
Spoken Worship
Outside, a vacant hillside
lies silent, strangely empty
of any angel's choir.
A stable waits
for bookings at the inn to multiply.
Distant kings study charts
and keep gifts in cold storage,
while shepherds plan their memoirs
in expectancy of unexpected fame
and keep a chapter free for miracles.
A small velvet patch
in the black night sky
stands ready to hold a newborn star,
and oppressed people everywhere
cling wildly to a prophecy and a song
and whisper the word: Messiah.
They've switched on the lights
in Oxford Street,
counting off the buying days,
like guardsmen on parade,
shops are stocked and standing by,
revving up the engines
of their debt-powered swiping machines,
and history watchers mark another year
in the slow count to 3000.
But here an old man lies
in the stairwell where he fell three days ago
and no one knows.
Here a young girl loiters
in a streetlight's unholy halo
to sell the only thing she owns
that men will pay for.
And here an infant sleeps
on a sack on the hard earth floor
where even a mother's hand
is empty,
and there are places where Christmas
is still waiting
to happen.
Gerard Kelly,
Spoken Worship
Monday, December 12, 2011
Advent 12 - the in-crowd?
After our service with the Bishop on Sunday there was a soup lunch and a small number of the congregation stayed behind.
The Flower family were joined at the table by a handful of our most marginal members; early teens who are I think it's fair to say equally delighted and repelled by the strange beast that is "church".
I don't think they've ever made it to an entire service, they usually manage to upset someone and don't have a clue about the subtle nuances of a communion service but they've hearts as big as themselves a fact they like to keep hidden behind a high decibel level of bluff and bravado.
Looking around to the other tables it was interesting to see the characters taking part in this holy meal, people who shape and form our rag tag community with their obstacles overt and hidden.
I've always felt that one of the biggest gifts the church has for the world is community, with all the struggles and challenges that creates. We're designed to live in community and this is a place to work out what that looks like, complete with joy and pain ...and a lot of necessary grace.
Anyway, browsing the internet I found this post on www.maggidawn.com
“…the church has been criticizing itself for too long, and it ought to start celebrating its unsung and remarkable achievements. The trouble is that the faults of the church are so obvious – the gap between its ideals and the reality is so glaring. But the other trouble is that most of us do not have our eyes open to see the miracles of grace> They are to be found in such ordinary, unremarkable, simple things that we do not even notice. We think our worship is dull, and miss the movement of the Spirit in the secret places, the everyday saints, who are there among us but we dismiss them as ‘old so-and-so.’ In my experience the church is capable of transcending the divisions in our society, it is capable of integrating the odd and unacceptable, it is more sensitive to basic human values than wider society. It can act as leaven, and we should no disparage this. Maybe we all need to go on a voyage of exploration into unlikely places to meet unlikely people – not the great ones of the world but the marginalized and afflicted who will teach us what true human values are.”
Frances Young, Face to Face, 105-6
The Flower family were joined at the table by a handful of our most marginal members; early teens who are I think it's fair to say equally delighted and repelled by the strange beast that is "church".
I don't think they've ever made it to an entire service, they usually manage to upset someone and don't have a clue about the subtle nuances of a communion service but they've hearts as big as themselves a fact they like to keep hidden behind a high decibel level of bluff and bravado.
Looking around to the other tables it was interesting to see the characters taking part in this holy meal, people who shape and form our rag tag community with their obstacles overt and hidden.
I've always felt that one of the biggest gifts the church has for the world is community, with all the struggles and challenges that creates. We're designed to live in community and this is a place to work out what that looks like, complete with joy and pain ...and a lot of necessary grace.
Anyway, browsing the internet I found this post on www.maggidawn.com
“…the church has been criticizing itself for too long, and it ought to start celebrating its unsung and remarkable achievements. The trouble is that the faults of the church are so obvious – the gap between its ideals and the reality is so glaring. But the other trouble is that most of us do not have our eyes open to see the miracles of grace> They are to be found in such ordinary, unremarkable, simple things that we do not even notice. We think our worship is dull, and miss the movement of the Spirit in the secret places, the everyday saints, who are there among us but we dismiss them as ‘old so-and-so.’ In my experience the church is capable of transcending the divisions in our society, it is capable of integrating the odd and unacceptable, it is more sensitive to basic human values than wider society. It can act as leaven, and we should no disparage this. Maybe we all need to go on a voyage of exploration into unlikely places to meet unlikely people – not the great ones of the world but the marginalized and afflicted who will teach us what true human values are.”
Frances Young, Face to Face, 105-6
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Advent 11 - holy moments in Wing
Funny that I was talking about the pace of advent two days ago as it fitted exactly with the introduction to the Bishop of Oxford's address when he visited church today (only he put it a little more eloquently).
He talked about the gift of four weeks of advent, four weeks to mark time, a Sunday to pause each week and to help us slow down and feel the waiting.
He then went on to talk about time ... one question we had at our 'rest' discussion was "Is it possible to reclaim a sense of time as an abundant gift from God rather than a scarce commodity?"
I think the Bishop addresses this today...
He spoke about three types of time
1) Circular time - seed time and harvest, the changing of the seasons, marking the year by sports fixtures, or just the fact that Christmas has come 'round' again.
2) Chronos or linear time - with phrases like "how long will it take". The idea of time going somewhere was introduced by Hebrew thought and indeed Jesus follows a linear journey too on a heavenly trajectory from it's beginning in Galilee. History too is heading for an ending or the fulfilment of God's plan.
3) Kairos time - "the appointed time in the purpose of God" or special moments when God acts or breaks into Chronos time. Jesus' birth, life, cross, resurrection. But we have our own Kiaros moments too. When has God either tip toed or crashed into our lives?
Advent is when linear time waits for Kairos time, God is always coming into our lives through grace not just at advent. Each moment is full of God if we choose to see it but it is only in the present moment that we can see God...our challenge is to allow those Kairos moments in all we do this advent and beyond. Whether commending people to God as we write their names in Christmas cards or take time out to share coffee with someone and to really be present to them.
Unfortunately, my Kairos moment was interrupted as at this point in the talk as I was called into Sunday School by the arrival of some late angels. But maybe someone may take a linear moment to add any more wisdom over the next few days...
He talked about the gift of four weeks of advent, four weeks to mark time, a Sunday to pause each week and to help us slow down and feel the waiting.
He then went on to talk about time ... one question we had at our 'rest' discussion was "Is it possible to reclaim a sense of time as an abundant gift from God rather than a scarce commodity?"
I think the Bishop addresses this today...
He spoke about three types of time
1) Circular time - seed time and harvest, the changing of the seasons, marking the year by sports fixtures, or just the fact that Christmas has come 'round' again.
2) Chronos or linear time - with phrases like "how long will it take". The idea of time going somewhere was introduced by Hebrew thought and indeed Jesus follows a linear journey too on a heavenly trajectory from it's beginning in Galilee. History too is heading for an ending or the fulfilment of God's plan.
3) Kairos time - "the appointed time in the purpose of God" or special moments when God acts or breaks into Chronos time. Jesus' birth, life, cross, resurrection. But we have our own Kiaros moments too. When has God either tip toed or crashed into our lives?
Advent is when linear time waits for Kairos time, God is always coming into our lives through grace not just at advent. Each moment is full of God if we choose to see it but it is only in the present moment that we can see God...our challenge is to allow those Kairos moments in all we do this advent and beyond. Whether commending people to God as we write their names in Christmas cards or take time out to share coffee with someone and to really be present to them.
Unfortunately, my Kairos moment was interrupted as at this point in the talk as I was called into Sunday School by the arrival of some late angels. But maybe someone may take a linear moment to add any more wisdom over the next few days...
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Advent 10 - Godsmacked
you came
a tiny
vulnerable
baby
lungs screaming for
life,
fingers grasping for
something to hold on to,
your whole being
completely depending on
us (!) to
feed you
change you
clothe you
protect you
love you
and we were
gobsmacked.
by Thom Shuman
a tiny
vulnerable
baby
lungs screaming for
life,
fingers grasping for
something to hold on to,
your whole being
completely depending on
us (!) to
feed you
change you
clothe you
protect you
love you
and we were
gobsmacked.
by Thom Shuman
Friday, December 09, 2011
Advent 9 - speeding up, then slow down
Two evenings ago I found myself trying to feed blossom, whilst on the phone to Mother Flower, at the same time as preparing dinner for Mr Flower and myself - Ridiculous behaviour but how often do we create these multitasking nightmares that leave us shattered and resentful.
Discussing my behaviour with said husband later that night we commented on how the crazy thing is if we just focused on one thing at a time we'd probably get as much done but actually enjoy the experience and be present for each task rather than none.
It certainly didn't value the other people involved, I can't recall the subject matter of the conversation and I barely noticed cooking the meal let alone enjoying the process.
What's even more frustrating is that recently I was leading a group exploring 'rest' and sabbath living, one thing that we touched on was how this notion that constant multi-tasking and being busy-to-breaking point is just the way life and culture. As TS Elliott lamented "What’s particularly discouraging is the people I meet feel resigned to a life in which there is no alternative; a life in which we are all destined to be “distracted from distraction by distraction”.
But isn't it actually our choice? We choose whether we live with the cultural narrative or counter it. If Jesus had come to my kitchen this week I can imagine a parable would have followed! And I feel sure the notion that 'the world might cease turning if we even stop momentarily' would definitely be on his myth busting agenda. After all stress related illnesses are ever rising and mental health issues are too surely that's no coincidence, we're not designed to be flat out all the time. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world???
Talking about his experience of taking a sabbath day each week Rob Bell says...
I decided to start taking one day a week to cease from work. And what I discovered is that I couldn’t even do it at first.
I would go into depression.
By the afternoon I would be so . . . low.
I realized that my life was all about keeping the adrenaline buzz going and that I was only really happy when I was going all the time. When I stopped to spend a day to remember that I am loved just because I exist, I found out how much of my efforts were about earning something I already have.
Sabbath is taking a day a week to remind myself that I did not make the world and that it will continue to exist without my efforts.
Sabbath is a day when my work is done, even if it isn’t.
Sabbath is a day when my job is to enjoy. Period.
Sabbath is a day when I am fully available to myself and those I love most.
Sabbath is a day when I remember that when God made the world, he saw that it was good.
Sabbath is a day when I produce nothing.
Sabbath is a day when I remind myself that I am not a machine.
Sabbath is a day when at the end I say, “I didn’t do anything today,” and I don’t add, “And I feel so guilty.”
Sabbath is a day when my phone is turned off, I don’t check my email, and you can’t get ahold of me.
Jesus wants to heal our souls, wants to give us the shalom of God. And so we have to stop. We have to slow down. We have to sit still and stare out the window and let the engine come to an idle. We have to listen to what our inner voice is saying.
There are so many layers to the healing of the soul... Now when we read the word Sabbath, most of us think that the real issue behind the Sabbath isn’t which day of the week it is but how we live all the time.
A challenge worth considering, especially at this time of year?
Discussing my behaviour with said husband later that night we commented on how the crazy thing is if we just focused on one thing at a time we'd probably get as much done but actually enjoy the experience and be present for each task rather than none.
It certainly didn't value the other people involved, I can't recall the subject matter of the conversation and I barely noticed cooking the meal let alone enjoying the process.
What's even more frustrating is that recently I was leading a group exploring 'rest' and sabbath living, one thing that we touched on was how this notion that constant multi-tasking and being busy-to-breaking point is just the way life and culture. As TS Elliott lamented "What’s particularly discouraging is the people I meet feel resigned to a life in which there is no alternative; a life in which we are all destined to be “distracted from distraction by distraction”.
But isn't it actually our choice? We choose whether we live with the cultural narrative or counter it. If Jesus had come to my kitchen this week I can imagine a parable would have followed! And I feel sure the notion that 'the world might cease turning if we even stop momentarily' would definitely be on his myth busting agenda. After all stress related illnesses are ever rising and mental health issues are too surely that's no coincidence, we're not designed to be flat out all the time. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world???
Talking about his experience of taking a sabbath day each week Rob Bell says...
I decided to start taking one day a week to cease from work. And what I discovered is that I couldn’t even do it at first.
I would go into depression.
By the afternoon I would be so . . . low.
I realized that my life was all about keeping the adrenaline buzz going and that I was only really happy when I was going all the time. When I stopped to spend a day to remember that I am loved just because I exist, I found out how much of my efforts were about earning something I already have.
Sabbath is taking a day a week to remind myself that I did not make the world and that it will continue to exist without my efforts.
Sabbath is a day when my work is done, even if it isn’t.
Sabbath is a day when my job is to enjoy. Period.
Sabbath is a day when I am fully available to myself and those I love most.
Sabbath is a day when I remember that when God made the world, he saw that it was good.
Sabbath is a day when I produce nothing.
Sabbath is a day when I remind myself that I am not a machine.
Sabbath is a day when at the end I say, “I didn’t do anything today,” and I don’t add, “And I feel so guilty.”
Sabbath is a day when my phone is turned off, I don’t check my email, and you can’t get ahold of me.
Jesus wants to heal our souls, wants to give us the shalom of God. And so we have to stop. We have to slow down. We have to sit still and stare out the window and let the engine come to an idle. We have to listen to what our inner voice is saying.
There are so many layers to the healing of the soul... Now when we read the word Sabbath, most of us think that the real issue behind the Sabbath isn’t which day of the week it is but how we live all the time.
A challenge worth considering, especially at this time of year?
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Advent 8 - Waiting
God, so much of faith is waiting
like a pregnant woman
waiting in hope
like a people under siege
holding out till relief comes
like the soul lost in darkness
unable to see even a glimmer of light
yet stumbling through the night
because somewhere,
out ahead,
day will surely break
God, be with us in our waiting
from Makers Blessing, The Iona Community
like a pregnant woman
waiting in hope
like a people under siege
holding out till relief comes
like the soul lost in darkness
unable to see even a glimmer of light
yet stumbling through the night
because somewhere,
out ahead,
day will surely break
God, be with us in our waiting
from Makers Blessing, The Iona Community
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
Advent 7 - time to celebrate?!?
Love this story ...
My friend Tony Campolo tells a story that serves as a great parable...
He was in another timezone and couldn't sleep, so well after midnight he wandered down to a doughnut shop where, it turned out local hookers also came at the end of a night of turning tricks. There he overheard a conversation between two of them.One, named Agnes, said "You know what? Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm gonna be thirty nine." Her friend snapped back. "So what d'ya want from me? A birthday party? Huh? You want me to get a cake and sing happy birthday to you?" The first woman replied "Aw, come on, why do you have to be so mean? Why do you have to put me down? I'm just saying it's my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean why should I have a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"
When they left, Tony got an idea. He asked the shop owner if Agnes came in every night, and when he applied to the affirmative, Tony invited him to a surprise party conspiracy. The shop owners wife even got involved. Together they arranged for cake, candles and typical party decorations for Agnes, who was to Tony a complete stranger. The next night when she came in they shouted "Surprise!" - and Agnes couldn't believe her eyes. The doughnut shop patrons sang and she began to cry so hard she could barely blow out the candles. When the time came to cut the cake, she asked if they'd mind if she didn't cut it, if she could bring it home - just to keep it for a while and savour the moment. So she left, carrying the cake like treasure.
from The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren
We need to be people who celebrate not just at Christmas but at every opportunity, everywhere and with everyone, especially now when the worlds rapidly losing reasons to do so...
My friend Tony Campolo tells a story that serves as a great parable...
He was in another timezone and couldn't sleep, so well after midnight he wandered down to a doughnut shop where, it turned out local hookers also came at the end of a night of turning tricks. There he overheard a conversation between two of them.One, named Agnes, said "You know what? Tomorrow's my birthday. I'm gonna be thirty nine." Her friend snapped back. "So what d'ya want from me? A birthday party? Huh? You want me to get a cake and sing happy birthday to you?" The first woman replied "Aw, come on, why do you have to be so mean? Why do you have to put me down? I'm just saying it's my birthday. I don't want anything from you. I mean why should I have a birthday party? I've never had a birthday party in my whole life. Why should I have one now?"
When they left, Tony got an idea. He asked the shop owner if Agnes came in every night, and when he applied to the affirmative, Tony invited him to a surprise party conspiracy. The shop owners wife even got involved. Together they arranged for cake, candles and typical party decorations for Agnes, who was to Tony a complete stranger. The next night when she came in they shouted "Surprise!" - and Agnes couldn't believe her eyes. The doughnut shop patrons sang and she began to cry so hard she could barely blow out the candles. When the time came to cut the cake, she asked if they'd mind if she didn't cut it, if she could bring it home - just to keep it for a while and savour the moment. So she left, carrying the cake like treasure.
from The Secret Message of Jesus by Brian McLaren
We need to be people who celebrate not just at Christmas but at every opportunity, everywhere and with everyone, especially now when the worlds rapidly losing reasons to do so...
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Advent 6 - The perfect app for a wise man
Found goskywatch after a tip off from Uncle Flower.
Modern day magi would do well to add this amazing app, if only it was warmer out I'd be out there exploring the stars. As it is I'll enjoy exploring the northern and southern hemisphere's from the sofa.
It has some brilliant features - find out how old you were when the light seen started it's journey from a star, a built-in database of all stars visible to the naked eye, a red mode for night viewing.
A palm size planetarium.
Monday, December 05, 2011
Advent 5 - Beer, Breakfast and Babies
Recently a friend posted this on facebook:
In a Warsaw bar with a friend at the weekend, a complete stranger takes over ordering our drinks from the barman, and then pays for them without saying. He disappears with merely a 'cheers'. Touched by his mysterious and random act of kindness, we do the same for a couple in a café at Sunday brunch, secretly paying their bill and then wishing them a good day on the way out. I wonder if they’ll pass it on?
I love this generosity and the hope of its ripples continuing.
I don't really know where my friend stands with God but as a Christian I see us as all made in God's image. And that our God-likeness just has to get out at times whether we want it too or not, or are aware of it or not. I think it sometimes shows up in such acts of love.
I fear my friend may think I'm imposing my religion on peoples basic human ability to be lovely and maybe I am, after all you certainly don't need to be a Christian to be nice and often in my experience you can be nicer if you're not. But sometimes, to me at least, actions like these can seem even more special than 'just being generous', they're somehow more mystical.
Anyway, all that made me wonder about the Inn Keeper. Who knew Pay It Forward dates back to BC? I wonder how did he feel ending up in the big story of God? Was he looking for the Messiah or not? What made him get involved when he could easily have said no, business was clearly good?
Who knows what threads connect such strangers whether in a Warsaw bar or a Bethlehem street, whatever they are they weave a more beautiful world whatever prompts them.
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Advent 4
Found this on www.iaskforwonder.com I was looking for a story of the kingdom coming in unexpected ways ...seems appropriate therefore to share it for Advent too...
"The image is by no means finished yet, and time will tell how it turns out, but more important to me is the experience of the process of creating something in such a public space. Whilst I have made art on the streets in the past it has always been on my own paper, on an easel – a creative space that I own and I control, even if I can’t control the public space around me. This was different though, I have never felt genuinely scared making art but I felt real trepidation as I sprayed the paint onto grey breeze blocks.
For some time I have thought that when we act courageously and creatively we open up the potential for love to break through into the world (Jesus called it the Kingdom of God) but I hadn’t realised how vulnerable and exposed it would make me feel.
As soon as I began to paint then cars on the busy roundabout began to honk their horns. I faced the wall, not wanting to see the expression on their faces. But when I eventually plucked up the courage to turn around I saw that the drivers were giving me thumbs up as they went past.
And then the passers by, mostly young men as it happened, who would approach me to say how great it was that someone was doing something like this, or that I should add a ganja leaf to the design, or concerned that I might get caught. Taking the creative risk can draw out so much goodness in people.
A teenage lad, on his half term break, came and watched me for a while. We chatted about his life and he eyed the paints, it was clear he was itching to have a go. In the end I let him and he cut out a small heart stencil and sprayed 3 red hearts connected together in one corner of the image and he told me that this was ‘the second best thing that’s ever happened to me’.
At times police cars cruised around the roundabout slowly and eventually a community support officer approached me to ask what I was doing. I explained the project and that I had permission to work here and he told me that they’d had a few calls from people concerned about what I was doing.
As I reflect on how different people responded it was the young men in their late teens and twenties who came and spoke to me in support, middle aged people mostly scurried past with their heads down, I wonder who called the police? I’m not criticising those who did, it’s good that there are civic minded people about, but it is interesting what actions (and what kind of art) attracts or alienates different types of people. The Officer took down my details and it was one of the few times in my life when I have emphasised the fact that I am a Reverend! He was a good man and we chatted about the community.
Late in the afternoon, as the image began to come together from the random lines and colours, a couple stopped to chat. I don’t recall mentioning to them that I worked for the church but the man showed me a rosary round his neck and said he was a Catholic although he hadn’t been to church for years. The woman was pregnant with her fourteenth child and worried about the future, they wanted me to write their names on the wall and pray for them. I told them that this picture was my prayer for the whole community. Then I pointed to the pattern that the lad had stencilled earlier in the day and told them that those three hearts would be the prayer for the two of them and their unborn child. They were deeply moved and grateful and I was left dumbfounded at how simple symbols and actions can have such a profound effect on people.
Thinking about that afternoon I am in awe at the depth of humanity I encountered and how my fumbling act of creation somehow made the space sacred. I had the sense of participating in something much bigger than I am, something way out of my control. Call it what you like; as a person seeking to follow Christ I might call it the Spirit of God, but those words are so frail and inadequate to encompass the reality.
In the Old Testament, God speaks to Moses from a burning bush and tells him to take off his sandals because he is standing on holy ground. Next time I am out at Parson Cross to finish off the painting on that shabby building, in the midst of the detritus of the street, perhaps I should do it in bare feet…"
"The image is by no means finished yet, and time will tell how it turns out, but more important to me is the experience of the process of creating something in such a public space. Whilst I have made art on the streets in the past it has always been on my own paper, on an easel – a creative space that I own and I control, even if I can’t control the public space around me. This was different though, I have never felt genuinely scared making art but I felt real trepidation as I sprayed the paint onto grey breeze blocks.
For some time I have thought that when we act courageously and creatively we open up the potential for love to break through into the world (Jesus called it the Kingdom of God) but I hadn’t realised how vulnerable and exposed it would make me feel.
As soon as I began to paint then cars on the busy roundabout began to honk their horns. I faced the wall, not wanting to see the expression on their faces. But when I eventually plucked up the courage to turn around I saw that the drivers were giving me thumbs up as they went past.
And then the passers by, mostly young men as it happened, who would approach me to say how great it was that someone was doing something like this, or that I should add a ganja leaf to the design, or concerned that I might get caught. Taking the creative risk can draw out so much goodness in people.
A teenage lad, on his half term break, came and watched me for a while. We chatted about his life and he eyed the paints, it was clear he was itching to have a go. In the end I let him and he cut out a small heart stencil and sprayed 3 red hearts connected together in one corner of the image and he told me that this was ‘the second best thing that’s ever happened to me’.
At times police cars cruised around the roundabout slowly and eventually a community support officer approached me to ask what I was doing. I explained the project and that I had permission to work here and he told me that they’d had a few calls from people concerned about what I was doing.
As I reflect on how different people responded it was the young men in their late teens and twenties who came and spoke to me in support, middle aged people mostly scurried past with their heads down, I wonder who called the police? I’m not criticising those who did, it’s good that there are civic minded people about, but it is interesting what actions (and what kind of art) attracts or alienates different types of people. The Officer took down my details and it was one of the few times in my life when I have emphasised the fact that I am a Reverend! He was a good man and we chatted about the community.
Late in the afternoon, as the image began to come together from the random lines and colours, a couple stopped to chat. I don’t recall mentioning to them that I worked for the church but the man showed me a rosary round his neck and said he was a Catholic although he hadn’t been to church for years. The woman was pregnant with her fourteenth child and worried about the future, they wanted me to write their names on the wall and pray for them. I told them that this picture was my prayer for the whole community. Then I pointed to the pattern that the lad had stencilled earlier in the day and told them that those three hearts would be the prayer for the two of them and their unborn child. They were deeply moved and grateful and I was left dumbfounded at how simple symbols and actions can have such a profound effect on people.
Thinking about that afternoon I am in awe at the depth of humanity I encountered and how my fumbling act of creation somehow made the space sacred. I had the sense of participating in something much bigger than I am, something way out of my control. Call it what you like; as a person seeking to follow Christ I might call it the Spirit of God, but those words are so frail and inadequate to encompass the reality.
In the Old Testament, God speaks to Moses from a burning bush and tells him to take off his sandals because he is standing on holy ground. Next time I am out at Parson Cross to finish off the painting on that shabby building, in the midst of the detritus of the street, perhaps I should do it in bare feet…"
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Advent 3
Thinking about everyone having something to add to the story, on Mary and Joseph's journey and ever since. And the odd community that assembled in Bethlehem, strangers brought together for one reason, and the power of communal celebration.
The sheer joy of this was a holy moment for me, hope it is for you...
On Saturday the 12th November 55 strangers from all over the country came together for one day to form the Cobblers' Orchestra and play two of our songs. There were no prior rehearsals and all music was emailed out to participants one week before the big day. We had one hour to rehearse together before recording. Kick your shoes off, grab a pair of good earphones and enjoy!
Cobblers' Collective - Cobblers' Orchestra - Giraffe Junkie
The sheer joy of this was a holy moment for me, hope it is for you...
On Saturday the 12th November 55 strangers from all over the country came together for one day to form the Cobblers' Orchestra and play two of our songs. There were no prior rehearsals and all music was emailed out to participants one week before the big day. We had one hour to rehearse together before recording. Kick your shoes off, grab a pair of good earphones and enjoy!
Cobblers' Collective - Cobblers' Orchestra - Giraffe Junkie
Friday, December 02, 2011
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Book
Who knew what treasures
paper held in cloth could offer?
Words spilling from left to right
across pages, decades and generations.
Cover stained with ring marks
from your cup - of solace, joy, salvation?
A fragile spine resting in hands
that once held yours.
Deep magic
joining hearts and heaven.
(God Calling by Two Listeners was first published in 1934 and was owned by my Grandparents in 1954, now it is speaking to me in 2011)
paper held in cloth could offer?
Words spilling from left to right
across pages, decades and generations.
Cover stained with ring marks
from your cup - of solace, joy, salvation?
A fragile spine resting in hands
that once held yours.
Deep magic
joining hearts and heaven.
(God Calling by Two Listeners was first published in 1934 and was owned by my Grandparents in 1954, now it is speaking to me in 2011)
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Rebel, rebel...
In church recently for a meeting when it struck me, yet again, how I don't seem to be able to behave myself in 'serious' situations ...attacks of giggles, sarcasm and a heightened innuendo awareness all plague me.
In said meeting when raising a certain point I knowingly said "to play devil's advocate"; common linguistic usage maybe and no jaws hit the floor but maybe the devil was closer than I thought!!
Chatting to a friend about it this morning I said "I don't know why such situations bring out the worst in me? He said "Maybe you're just a rebel".
Now it's not the first time it's been said but it still shocks me, after all I'm a nice middle class, relatively conservative girl who has a clean driving license and the closest I've come to criminal behaviour is the odd mobile phone call on the move.
So I thought well what does it mean to be a rebel. One dictionary definitions put it thus ...
1. To resist or defy an authority or a generally accepted convention.
And I have to say I like the idea of challenging a generally held convention, not for the sake of it but to see if it really holds true for me, rather than just blindly following.
I have to say it is often the safe/inane/basic nature of the dialogue at such meetings that causes my badness to stir from it's slumber, wanting to ask "really", "are you sure", "but why", "does it have to be", "can't we do better?". And even occasionally "was that really worth the energy of thought and use of breath?", which is rich seeing as my limited brain is oh so capable of making ridiculously ill-thought through statements all too easily.
I considered too well known rebels - Jesus, St Francis, Emmeline Pankhurst, Martin Luther King, Bart Simpson ... and the notion began to appeal, after all look at what these people achieved. Perhaps if I embrace my inner rebel my life will be more effective, who knows where it may lead.
Obviously you need to be a rebel with a cause, especially when you're not as good looking or zeitgeist capturing as James Dean or Marlon Brando but as Thomas Caryle so reassuringly puts it...
Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against.
In said meeting when raising a certain point I knowingly said "to play devil's advocate"; common linguistic usage maybe and no jaws hit the floor but maybe the devil was closer than I thought!!
Chatting to a friend about it this morning I said "I don't know why such situations bring out the worst in me? He said "Maybe you're just a rebel".
Now it's not the first time it's been said but it still shocks me, after all I'm a nice middle class, relatively conservative girl who has a clean driving license and the closest I've come to criminal behaviour is the odd mobile phone call on the move.
So I thought well what does it mean to be a rebel. One dictionary definitions put it thus ...
1. To resist or defy an authority or a generally accepted convention.
And I have to say I like the idea of challenging a generally held convention, not for the sake of it but to see if it really holds true for me, rather than just blindly following.
I have to say it is often the safe/inane/basic nature of the dialogue at such meetings that causes my badness to stir from it's slumber, wanting to ask "really", "are you sure", "but why", "does it have to be", "can't we do better?". And even occasionally "was that really worth the energy of thought and use of breath?", which is rich seeing as my limited brain is oh so capable of making ridiculously ill-thought through statements all too easily.
I considered too well known rebels - Jesus, St Francis, Emmeline Pankhurst, Martin Luther King, Bart Simpson ... and the notion began to appeal, after all look at what these people achieved. Perhaps if I embrace my inner rebel my life will be more effective, who knows where it may lead.
Obviously you need to be a rebel with a cause, especially when you're not as good looking or zeitgeist capturing as James Dean or Marlon Brando but as Thomas Caryle so reassuringly puts it...
Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Terrific tales for toddlers
Reading the same children's book three times in one sitting or repeatedly everyday can, with certain titles, have you reaching for the gin or worse still a revolver. But before you deprive your darling child of a beloved parent, teacher and voice of sane un-slurring authority reach for one of these titles. They are a huge hit with my two year old and have been loved by us all for some time.
Giraffe's Can't Dance by Giles Andreae - Such a feel good, life affirming, self esteem raising book. Fabulous bright pictures and a real sense of fun. Yes you guessed it even giraffe's CAN dance with a little help from their friends.
Augustus And His Smile by Catherine Rayner - Augustus the tiger has lost his smile and begins a solo quest to find it. A stunningly bold but simple morality tale, the illustrations in this book are sumptuous and mysterious. By turns menacing and playful it is a grown up book for little people, devoid of smultz, patronisation or saccharin platitudes.
When The World Is Ready For Bed by Gillian Shields - such a sweet but not cheesy book. Perfect for a Christening or naming day present. Teach toddlers how to treasure each day as a gift, their part in making it what it is and about the interconnectedness of us and our world.
Billy's Beetle by Mick Inkpen - This man must have been one of the main voices of childhood for over a decade. There are so many amazing stories by Mick Inkpen and he's created such a wealth of charming well known characters but this book is one of my favourite. Somewhat absurd in it's premise and characters it's the tale of a little boy who has lost his beetle and all the 'people' he encounters in his search to find it. I never get tired of reading it.
The Beeman by Laurie Krebs and Valeria Cis - This is a unique book from the fantastic Barefoot Books publishing house. Not only about caring for the natural world but about inter-generational relationships. It's quirky illustrations are great fun, especially spotting what the cat is up to on each page and the extra poem, recipe and factual information about bee's is really interesting. Would span a great age range.
Giraffe's Can't Dance by Giles Andreae - Such a feel good, life affirming, self esteem raising book. Fabulous bright pictures and a real sense of fun. Yes you guessed it even giraffe's CAN dance with a little help from their friends.
Augustus And His Smile by Catherine Rayner - Augustus the tiger has lost his smile and begins a solo quest to find it. A stunningly bold but simple morality tale, the illustrations in this book are sumptuous and mysterious. By turns menacing and playful it is a grown up book for little people, devoid of smultz, patronisation or saccharin platitudes.
When The World Is Ready For Bed by Gillian Shields - such a sweet but not cheesy book. Perfect for a Christening or naming day present. Teach toddlers how to treasure each day as a gift, their part in making it what it is and about the interconnectedness of us and our world.
Billy's Beetle by Mick Inkpen - This man must have been one of the main voices of childhood for over a decade. There are so many amazing stories by Mick Inkpen and he's created such a wealth of charming well known characters but this book is one of my favourite. Somewhat absurd in it's premise and characters it's the tale of a little boy who has lost his beetle and all the 'people' he encounters in his search to find it. I never get tired of reading it.
The Beeman by Laurie Krebs and Valeria Cis - This is a unique book from the fantastic Barefoot Books publishing house. Not only about caring for the natural world but about inter-generational relationships. It's quirky illustrations are great fun, especially spotting what the cat is up to on each page and the extra poem, recipe and factual information about bee's is really interesting. Would span a great age range.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Cre-ate-if ...part two
So the last three months of my challenge have been and gone and it's been a mixed bag to say the least.Nothing edible this time but some distinctly 'ify' moments.
September saw me undertake a secret project, or three in fact. Collating photo's for three books as Christmas presents. With a mac it is ultra easy and looks so professional but deciding what photo's to use and spending time taking shots to fill in the gaps has been great fun.
They were all brilliantly well received, if sobbing and a refusal to read the introduction in public are good signs!!
I started a Singing for Pleasure course at Bakewell Adult Education college in October, and instantly regretted not having enrolled earlier (it only took me a year!!). The course was led by folk singer, Lester Simpson and was brilliant fun. Very laid back, an ecclectic mix of music and a brilliant sense of achievement even though most weeks I found myself singing bass owing to the usual lack of men. One did start with his wife but by week three was never seen again! (Well by us at least, am hoping his wife still knew his whereabouts).
Having been given a sewing machine for my birthday in March, I finally found a window to try and see how it worked. The machine is awesome, made for idiots which is just as well as i appear to be such a one. I painstakingly drew a template of a doll's dress onto annoyingly curly greaseproof paper, put it onto an off cut of denim and cut it out full of enthusiasm for my new project.
The photo is here because this was the best part! I hemmed each section - one 6 times determined to get it perfect. Starting off turning the wheel by hand before building up enough guts to try the foot operated pedal. It was all going so well until I realised I'd cut the shoulder straps too short and underestimated my side seam allowance. Hey ho, it looked brilliant in parts but was no good for Lotta the ragdoll.
It was also a good exercise in how not to have a psychological melt down. Ghosts from my childhood rose up whispering "lack of abilility"and "missing out on the artistic gene"and a certain maternal spectre of "you don't want to do it like that" put it's oar in...until I realised that even my brilliant mother wasn't born perfect and had maybe even shed, just one, tear of frustration over a hot sewing machine in the early days of her efforts. Demon's battled, I packed away Lotta's dress and will when the time is right, unpick it (AGAIN) and recut the pattern and by golly when that new dress is finished woe betide any little girl who tries to remove it from that doll.
I thought I'd be out of luck, ideas and time for December as plans for salt dough ornaments, fig and date relish and home made cards came and went (well I did manage two but today I have made my thank you cards - little toddler finger prints for rudolph's nose - and a new baby one,for a boxing day addition to our world.
So I come in just before the bell and need to get thinking about what January's challenge may be...
September saw me undertake a secret project, or three in fact. Collating photo's for three books as Christmas presents. With a mac it is ultra easy and looks so professional but deciding what photo's to use and spending time taking shots to fill in the gaps has been great fun.
They were all brilliantly well received, if sobbing and a refusal to read the introduction in public are good signs!!
I started a Singing for Pleasure course at Bakewell Adult Education college in October, and instantly regretted not having enrolled earlier (it only took me a year!!). The course was led by folk singer, Lester Simpson and was brilliant fun. Very laid back, an ecclectic mix of music and a brilliant sense of achievement even though most weeks I found myself singing bass owing to the usual lack of men. One did start with his wife but by week three was never seen again! (Well by us at least, am hoping his wife still knew his whereabouts).
Having been given a sewing machine for my birthday in March, I finally found a window to try and see how it worked. The machine is awesome, made for idiots which is just as well as i appear to be such a one. I painstakingly drew a template of a doll's dress onto annoyingly curly greaseproof paper, put it onto an off cut of denim and cut it out full of enthusiasm for my new project.
The photo is here because this was the best part! I hemmed each section - one 6 times determined to get it perfect. Starting off turning the wheel by hand before building up enough guts to try the foot operated pedal. It was all going so well until I realised I'd cut the shoulder straps too short and underestimated my side seam allowance. Hey ho, it looked brilliant in parts but was no good for Lotta the ragdoll. It was also a good exercise in how not to have a psychological melt down. Ghosts from my childhood rose up whispering "lack of abilility"and "missing out on the artistic gene"and a certain maternal spectre of "you don't want to do it like that" put it's oar in...until I realised that even my brilliant mother wasn't born perfect and had maybe even shed, just one, tear of frustration over a hot sewing machine in the early days of her efforts. Demon's battled, I packed away Lotta's dress and will when the time is right, unpick it (AGAIN) and recut the pattern and by golly when that new dress is finished woe betide any little girl who tries to remove it from that doll.
I thought I'd be out of luck, ideas and time for December as plans for salt dough ornaments, fig and date relish and home made cards came and went (well I did manage two but today I have made my thank you cards - little toddler finger prints for rudolph's nose - and a new baby one,for a boxing day addition to our world.
So I come in just before the bell and need to get thinking about what January's challenge may be...
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