the b word

When you ask a vicar how they are, chances are they will reply ‘busy’. I have always tried to avoid answering this question with that word, either by cocking my head to one side and earnestly saying “it’s not about me; how are you?”, by playing to the (always hilarious) joke that I only work one day a week and saying “pretty free til next Sunday actually, it’s an easy life this one”, or by saying “crap actually, can we talk about it” simply because it is a hobby of mine to create awkward silences and hold them for as long as possible. Usually we call it prayer.

However at this time I am actually very busy, what with my co-vicar being on maternity leave and 20,000 hungry parishioners (as opposed to Parisiens) needing souls cured, booklets photocopied and the heating switched on and off according to the whims of Mother Nature. So, because despite my magical (sorry, miraculous) powers I cannot squeeze any more time out of the day, and because I will not sacrifice my family or my sanity on the altar of ‘doing everything’, I have decided there must be cuts.

So here are 7 things I will no longer be doing:

1. I will no longer read commentaries whilst preparing sermons. Live text on BBC Sport is finally to be considered a distraction and I will switch it off.
2. Updating my Facebook status will no longer be considered a spiritual discipline. If God wants to know what I am up to, he can email me, which I will leave marked as unread until I have time to respond.
3. I will no longer keep my office tidy. Jesus came into a messy world to redeem it, so I will wait for him to do the same to my office.
4. Whilst I can see the benefit of reading the Bible, there is never anything new in it and it is awfully long. I will stick to whatever Scriptures I can find on bookmarks, posters and other people’s Facebook pages, as they are presumably the most important ones.
5. I shall no longer prepare services. It seems a lot of work to do essentially the same thing every week. Following the example of the X-Factor and Strictly, we will use the same script every week, manipulate the odd drama and throw someone out according to votes cast in the offering bags.
6. Instead of feeling guilty about not having planned things that are coming up (like Christmas, or tomorrow’s assembly), I will make it a deliberate policy not to plan anything until the day on which it happens. After all, it’s God’s reputation on the line so it’s up to him to step in with last-minute inspiration, and he ought to be able to operate the photocopier by now.
7. We will no longer hire out the church hall in an organized way, but simply leave it open as a ‘community space’. This way we don’t have to worry about keys or rent, we just let the Big Society sort it out for themselves. This is called empowering the community. In fact, we will no longer lock away the church tea and coffee. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

With these changes in place, I am hoping that I will no longer find myself scrabbling for euphemisms for the b word, and will be able once again to the play on the Playstation during the day. Sorry, pray station.

proud

When God looks at you he does not see a GCSE certificate. Maybe that is discouraging, because you have passed and you want to show him. He is proud of you. But you don’t need a certificate to gain his favour.

When God looks at you, he does not see a GCSE certificate. Maybe that is encouraging, because you have failed and don’t want to show anyone. He is proud of you. You do not need a certificate to gain his favour.

God sees deeper, he sees you, beautiful, wonderful, messed up you.

Whether you have done well because you are a natural genius or you worked very hard. Or done badly because you struggle with academic stuff or you just didn’t put the work in, the response from God is the same. 

I love you.

To have failed an exam or to get the necessary grades does not make you a failure.

Ok, that might not help with getting into college or getting a job, and there might be lessons to learn about those things. But still, and nevertheless, and more importantly:

I love you.

I am proud of you.

You are my child. 

cooling your calling

Calling is a funny thing. It’s one of those words we use for Christians with worthy Christian… erm, callings. You know, vicars, missionaries, worship leaders, Mike Pilavachi. Calling is for people with extra-ordinary jobs. It’s for people called out of the secular and into the sacred. Not ordinary people. “They” are called. Not “we”.

That of course is not a very Christian view, and has little Biblical basis. It is, however, what is unknowingly and often unintentionally preached.

Which is why it was refreshing on Sunday to have Ann Moore with us at church, a lady who has spent the last 15 years working in Kisiizi hospital in Uganda. A classic case of the “proper” calling? She spoke about faith that changes people, from Hebrews 11. Her point? That our faith must change us, or it is not true faith; that our faith might lead us to an extra-ordinary calling like going abroad. But just as likely it will lead us to an extra-ordinary calling in the place in which we already live.

We are all called to live as disciples, as followers. All are called to submit our lives to Jesus as our lord. This will impact our families, our parenting, our finances, our friendships. It may impact where we live or what we do; or how we do it. Whether we are “just” a mum in an un-supportive marriage or we are a “missionary” in foreign places, the key thing is: are we submitted to Jesus as much as we can be? Being a called abroad doesn’t guarantee it, nor does being called to be at home cancel it out.

I know. I was called home once. I spent a year living and working in Uganda, teaching Old Testament history to Ugandan, Rwandan, Burundi, Congolese and Sudanese students. I know, God has a sense of humour. I explored the possibility that God was calling me abroad longer-term and God said… no. Go home, he said. Go home and work in your own country. So I went home.

back in the day

That is as much of a calling. As is what I am now, being a husband. Being a dad. Being a friend. Being a part of a church. Being in a running club. As is where you are, if you are submitted to Jesus as Lord. He may call us out of where we are to somewhere else. He may not. That is not the point. The point is, do we allow our faith to change us, to inform our decisions, to lead us? Our identity is found in being children of God, followers of the Way, apprentices of Jesus. 

If we get that, then all the guff about one calling being higher up the spiritual scale than another can be left well behind.

soft-furnishing the death star

Carpet shops have a peculiar atmosphere. You walk to the door all chirpy thinking of lovely new carpets, and as soon as you enter, the atmosphere hits you. If boredom had a smell, this is it. If tedium was a aroma, this is it. If the Death Star has a lounge, this is where they bought they’re soft furnishings.

Ok, I exaggerate. No-one goes to a carpet shop all chirpy.

And the Death Star doesn’t have a lounge.

they wanted carpets. it ended badly.

When we last moved, we had to re-carpet the entire house. Not a very exciting way to spend a lot of money. And you’d think it would be easy to choose. Once we’d decided we wanted a neutral, non-patterned, hard-wearing, mid-range ‘sort of beige’, I’d hoped we’d walk in and see it before the aroma of rolled piles sucked the life out of me.

But suddenly the subtle nuances of pattern changes seem to matter. This one is too dark. This one too light. This weave is too tight. This one is a bit rough. When you’re in the shop, the tiniest things become insanely important.

There is a huge difference between being in the shop, and being outside the shop.

How many churchy arguments take on so much significance because people spend too much time in the shop? So much time that the tiniest details become insanely important.

People outside the shop don’t really care about the thickness of your pile or the tightness of your weave. People outside the church don’t really care about most of the things we end up bickering about. So let’s learn from them. 

Don’t let the carpet shop suck the life out of you. Breathe the Holy Spirit. Breathe life.

Time to stop before I go any further up the metaphorical cul-de-sac of comparing anything churchy with different shades of beige.

meetings

I discovered this on the brilliant (and very insightful!) ASBO Jesus site…

*knowing chuckle*