Privilage

I've been thinking a bit recently about how incredible my church is and how much we have and how easy it is to take for granted.
We've just been to London. Not sightseeing, but being part of the sights for a day. Why? So that we can tell people about Jesus. We walked - on the road - through some of the busiest streets of London in the middle of a Saturday in summer. Right from Hyde Park Corner to Trafalgar Square. Singing, dancing, shouting, praying, mexican-waving. Following this extraordinary outburst of colour we took over Trafalgar Square for the whole afternoon. Dancing, shouting, talking, singing, laughing, drama-ing...all so that people could have a chance to hear about Jesus and all that he has done and can do for them.
To anyone who has never heard this it might seem like front-page news. Sadly to some in my church it has become almost routine and they have lost the excitement and joy that comes with throwing themselves wholeheartedly into something like that.
Dear God, may I never get that boring. Save me from my own passive nature that I may never take for granted the opportunities that you give us. Keep my heart from shutting out all that is new and hiding behind it's own insecurities. Keep me sensible to the amazing privilage that you have given us. To be those who can carry your name at these times in these places.

Love

I was listening to someone talking on Monday evening about love. He was saying that in his experience of building church and winning people for Jesus it was a case of just needing to love them and then God would do the rest. That if people had other agendas than simply loving people life started to get difficult and complicated.
Sounds profound I guess. But I think he's right.
It made me think back to the young women that I've helped to find their way in Jesus and to find their place within the church. I'm certainly not perfect and I'm sure I misunderstood them more times than I care to remember. I'm also sure that I loved them very much indeed - and still do. I'd do pretty much anything for all of them.
I still maintain that the fact that the majority of these young women is still in the church has an awful lot to do with God and not very much to do with me at all. God did a lot whilst I stood in the corner with a proverbial open mouth. I just loved them - very imperfectly.
Thank Goodness that the Grace of God is the element within our individual and corporate walks with Him that makes the difference.

Time

I guess there have been more blog posts about time than anyone could be bothered to count - certainly more than I'd care to imagine. I don't think I'm a deep enough thinker to come up with anything that no-one has thought of before. But sometimes it's the little things that get my attention rather than the unfathomable depths that some people manage to understand!
And I've been thinking today - where does the time that I waste go to?
I've said lots of times in my life that I want my time to count for Jesus. That I want Him to use me. But the time that I spend sightlessly admiring the view through my office window, or the time that I spend checking twitter for the 30th time....where does that go? Does it count for anything at all? Does it help me to "relax"? Is it simply "gone" and no-one knows where to. Is there actualy an angel in heaven who has the thankless task of going through the moments of my days and doing the equations between time well spent and time wasted. And what is time that has been wasted recorded as anyway? Is it like an appointment book with just blank spaces? What goes in there.
I don't have answers to this by the way......just questions. And some of those are rather vague!

Man, Movement, Machine, Monument

Recently one of our leaders spoke in a Sunday morning service about a very real danger that faces the churches of today. That is the danger of turning from a movement of life into a machine and then a monument to what "has been".
I felt challenged and reminded of a trip to Lindisfarne Island which I took with two of my friends a couple of years ago when I was still at Uni. I had a moment with God on finding how disenchanted I was with the monuments to bygones on the island. That was the inspiration for the poem that follows.

On a small windy island a long way North
Stands a church, from the austerity of which, Celtic Saints strode forth.
But it now stands silent, empty, just a monument,
Just a place where all those "seeking peace" are sent.

And I wonder, whilst I walk around the echoing insides,
How we lost the verve and passion that consumed their lives?
Where it was along the path we completely missed the way,
And turned this house of praise into a museum for today.

So wandering outside and glancing over a small wall,
The sea reflects the sun and holds me in it's thrall.
A living spectacle of changing, dancing light
Presents a view of briliance before my captured sight.

And then I hear inside my heart the still small voice of God.
And hear Him say "This is how I want my people to be,
Not still, nor silent, not hollow, bound to sod,
But moving, shining - a living reflection of Me."

Dear God

I've been inspired recently by reading a very lovely, lighthearted little book that has a deeper message. It's written by a man who claims to be a lapsed athiest and it's a book of "short prayers for long days".
Little sentances to God about the mundane, the funny and the perplexing things in life.
I loved reading it. It used to belong to my Grandad, but he's now able to talk face to face with God.
It inspired me to just talk to God more. God is interested in the everyday happenings in our lives. He doesn't just want a shopping list of prayer or an hour here or there. He wants to be able to be involved, to laugh with us or cry with us.
You see, there's a scarey bit in my bible. It says that at the end of time some will come to the gates of heaven and want to go in saying to God that they've done all kinds of things in His name, but He'll tell them to go....because He doesn't know them. How sad to have lived a life of duty in His name with no relationship.
So. Whilst my Twitter friends may think I've gone a little off the wall with my "Dear God" posts. It's just another way to talk to my God about my life. To get to know Him....and let Him get to know me too.

Grandad

When I attended my grandmother's funeral my grandfather sat in his wheelchair by her open grave and said "Goodbye Dora, I'll see you soon". Heartbreakingly for us, but happily for him, today I stood beside the open grave of my grandfather to say goodbye to him.

Loosing one grandparent was very hard. Loosing both of them has hurt so much. I don't feel much like myself at the moment. But I suppose that's normal, whatever normal is.

I'm glad he's with Jesus. I'm glad he's with my grandmother. But there's so much I wish that I could have said and done more. Maybe it's always like that when you loose someone you love.

For now I think it's just time to be quiet, at least that's how I feel.

Relief or Pain

I lost my Grandmother yesterday morning. And whilst I don't really wish to type a blog that is just some new kind of obituary, I can't sit and say nothing about a woman whose talents and life have made me in part the woman I am today.



My grandmother was an incredible cook. She ran her own bakery for a few years making and selling fresh bread to the residents of the small village in which she lived at the time.



She was a singer, singing the Alto harmony in the Emmanuel choir in London.



She was a lover of Jesus. Living her life for Him and trying to serve Him in the best way that she knew how.