This has been a bit of a week for remembering. First there was Sept 1st - the outbreak of WWII. Then there was September 3rd, when the allies declared war on Germany. September 2nd was when I made my first career choice - that was in 1985, not 1939 by the way and September 7th 2008 was when I took my first service as a probationer minister in the Holmfirth circuit. So you can see it's been quite a jolt for my 'holiday' brain which is having trouble coming back to reality after a few weeks of R&R. This last year has given me lots to think about and right now God is talking to me about my relationship with him, especially about prayer and my expectations.
I began to think about all the new people who have just started ministry and was wondering how yesterday went with the first service. I expect it was a good feeling and that they probably got something 'wrong'. Communion seems to be my biggest pitfall because when I follow the book I seem to forget something. In the past I have forgotten to take communion myself. Yesterday at the joint Methodist/Anglican Covenant service I served the other three servers with the bread then forgot to give them the wine. I hurriedly tried to make it look like I had planned it that way, but the truth is out! I made (another) mistake. At the end of the service a good friend hurriedly approached me. I thought I knew what was coming and was about to be very honest. 'You've forgotten the offering' she gently told me. Doh!!!
This has been a good year. War has not broken out or even been declared. The congregations have been very generous with their probationer minister for which I am truly grateful. I pray that those starting in new ministries will find the forgiveness and support that I have in the past twelve months and that yesterday was a great day.

That old boot

I recently had a disagreement with a man over that do or die issue of parking. The problem was that I had parked outside his house and he felt only he should park there. It was the first time I had parked here and was standing across the road for the entire 34 minutes. We exchanged views for about ten minutes and we seemed to be totally incapable of seeing the other side of the argument. He reminded me of an old boot I once had.
I was about fourteen and rather sweet on Katrina, a Canadian girl from my old junior school and I wanted to ask her out. I got the chocolates (Milk Tray) and my mum had just bought me a top from a rather good jumble sale so I was almost ready to knock on her door. I just needed a pair of shoes and had to resort to raiding my dad's wardrobe where the Christmas presents were usually stored. Unfortunately there was no excitement here, just an old pair of winkle picker boots, two sizes too big with the leather sole hanging off. Ever inventive, I rushed up to Mr Williams, the cobbler in Upland Road and asked him to stitch the sole. I only had to wait two days and my boots would be wearable and Katrina would be mine. When I went to pick them up Mr Williams was angry. I mean really angry. In fact he was puffing. 'I broke three needles on that' he said, pointing to the boot which now to my eyes was looking rather like I felt, a deflated balloon. He seemed to go on forever and only after this tirade did he thrust out his hand and demand 50pence (probably less than one needle cost). I didn't understand why this was my fault and asked my mum about it. After telling me not to worry, she struggled to finish off her sentence. 'Well', she added, 'he's got a child who's a bit...a bit..well funny'. It seemed that Mr Williams was not the only one who struggled to communicate. It was strange considering our family had it's share of physical and mental disability. Mum seemed unable to say 'Downs syndrome' and once again I was trying to interpret what someone was saying but having great difficulty.
This had been a difficult week but at least Katrina would be mine. I knocked on her door and we talked a bit. I offered her the chocolates which she accepted and closed the door on me. Maybe she saw the poor stitching on my over-sized boots and thought better of it. Whatever the reason, she didn't fail to communicate her feelings. So long and thanks for the chocolates. I never saw her again.
Even Jesus' communication techniques seem a little obscure with parables that people are incapable of understanding. But with important issues like parking you'd have thought the Lord might have made a concession. It seems these too need to be shrouded in the mystery of God.

Yesterday in church

We have an annual open air service at one of my churches. Still being new to the ministry means I am constantly asking what has been done in the past (not wanting to reproduce a previous theme if possible) so that we can be fresh and hopefully look at Scripture from a different angle. Yesterday we remembered Gospel stories that were lodged in our memories - perhaps because we were told them in Sunday School lessons or from our private reflections. We then talked to the person next to us and discussed why they were in our memories. We then wrote down the title (like 'woman at the well') and pegged them on a washing line in the church garden. Later the church was the crowd from the Feeding of the Five Thousand (Mark 6 and John 6). I told the story using the congregation who dressed up appropriately as people who may have followed Jesus. We also threw in a few contemporary suggestions like a diver (thanks Roger), policemen and Turkish belly dancer etc. The point was that on the line was our collective memory/history and putting them on the washing line in a roughly chronological order (which was an interesting exercise!) was a pictorial representation of our living history. These accounts were chosen for a good reason and we looked to think where God had been in our lives. Being the crowd (hopefully) fused a new memory of another story but this time we were all together so we now had a collective memory and just as we acted out the story, so we are encouraged to act out the Gospel accounts that are lodged deep within us.
Did it work? I think it did. Would I do anything differently? I used Mackerel for the fish - I'd go to Morrison's earlier next time and get Sardines - they don't smell so much!

who are you?

As a part of my dissertation I am researching some Fresh Expressions of church. I phoned up someone yesterday who heads up a FE and had a great conversation. Great that was until he asked, '..where do you stand on this...? What's your theology?' Now this is the question I've been dreading. In fact Hazel and I had been talking about this just the day before. I have been doing a lot of talking lately at meetings and churches and have often mentioned my conservative evangelical roots, especially my formative years at Bromley Baptist and Honor Oak Baptist churches. I remember them and the leaders with great fondness, putting me on a very stable road to pursue my christian life. So when someone asks me what my theology is I find it hard to reply. I am now a Methodist minister and have been exposed to a lot of different theologies, from conservative evangelical to pentecostal to Third Wave Charismatic to liberal and that includes the House Church movement and New Frontiers (Heaven help me!).
I told the chap I was talking to that I was probably a Post Evangelical (after Dave Tomlinson's book. He needed some clarification on this which I didn't want to give. I am forever trying to get away from labels because they don't say who I really am. Jonny Baker makes this point on his recent blog. Here he suggests he is more Catholic (I presume it's with a big 'C' 'cos everything he types is in trendy lower case. I expect there is some deep theological reason behind it) than he thought. Today I picked up a book by Rob McAlpine called Post Charismatic? which does a good job of describing me too.
In truth what I have found is that, rather like a bendy bus, I am having to flex and be remoulded rather than try to force God into my pre-determined doctrinal box. This is a painful process and as yet I can't say what I am. Does this make me a wishy-washy Methodist who doesn't know which way up he is or a faithful disciple who is waiting on Jesus for the next instalment to be revealed? Don't answer that!

How much do we change?

Some years ago I was preparing a sermon when I saw a kestrel swoop down and take a small bird. At that time I felt it was significant for the congregation and I remember saying, 'something like that doesn't just happen when you are preparing a sermon. What is God saying to us...?' Yesterday, I was going over a sermon for one of my services on Sunday when I saw in my garden a kestrel come down and take a small sparrow. It landed ten feet away from me and killed the sparrow. It stood on it for about 30 seconds before flying away. It was a bitter-sweet moment for me because I have been encouraging birds into the garden for ten months and this sparrow was probably one that I have cared for and put out (expensive) seeds and mealworms for. Now it was being killed right in front of me. I was caught between scaring off the kestrel and rescuing the fluffy sparrow or letting the kestrel feed its chicks. In the end, I let the kestrel have its meal and was left with the wonderful feeling of having been so close to a beautiful hawk. Not once did I feel this was a spiritual moment that needed to be relayed to the congregation.
So I am left wondering how much does our relationship with God/spirituality change over time? I'm not sure and right now I don't want to look too hard. It may be that we are changing for the better or we might be too busy to consider where God is.

centenary

I was invited by one of my schools recently to be at the centenary celebrations. In fact, I was asked to give a short talk which I readily agreed to. It was quite a big occasion with lots of old pupils/teachers attending.
It was a great time and although I messed up blessing the stone (I'll know the next time they ask me to the bicentenial celebration) it was a great. In my short address, I mentioned that the kids coming into the school were like sand brought in by the tide...you know, there's that time when the tide is neither coming in nor going out and that's where the sand is dropped to the sea bed, albeit momentarily. I likened this to the children resting in the safe environment of this very lovely school before they are taken off elsewhere. This is the stone that will be laid in the vestibule although I've not seen it yet.

Sunday School Anniversary

Just got back from the sunday school anniversary at Scholes. Despite my'poor little old me' of yesterday I had a great time today at church. It's amamzing how being with people who love God and who have a desire to follow him makes all the difference to a day.
Thanks to all those who made today so great...glad I didn't get on that train!

Oh well ... so much for twitter

This week has not been my best and I could do with jumping on this train and getting away for a couple of days. Still, at least I've started something different and I was looking forward to exploring twitter. However, I logged on today only to find my account suspended and don't know why. I'm at Scholes tomorrow morning for the sunday school anniversary, so it should be good. Can't wait. Not sure I'll bother with twitter though.

Twittering

I'm leading a mission shaped intro course next week for two circuits and the theme is networking and consumerism. Having looked and adapted the material I am relying on God to make this much more personal. So this morning I came across Twitter. I've got to say, I'm a bit bemused why anyone should want to know what my favourite football team is but it sweems that everyone wants to keep in touch with other people...even those they don't yet know. So, I decided to give it ago. It's easy to join up but my photo won't load yet. If you want to Twitter with me and have a laugh, my twitter address is http://twitter.com/treeswalking. Come on, give it a go!

On Ash Wednesday I wondered whether Easter Sunday would ever arrive. Well, it did and now it's gone. Apparently yesterday was called 'Low Sunday' in the CofE. I'm not sure why, but it certainly felt flat. Easter was great. We did Tenebrae services in all three churches and even though one was in the day light, it worked well (I used a recording of a heart beat that slowed down to a stop which was quite powerful. I played the second half on Easter Sunday morning where the heart beat starts again If you'd like it, let me know and I'll send it. You can e mail me at revtim@btinternet.com). On Easter Sunday I did a baptism which was a very special privilege...absolutely brilliant. There were lots of people there who weren't familiar with church and I preached on trying not to understand the resurrection scientifically, but open up and experience it instead.
But yesterday was a tough time for me. It felt like an anticlimax and I was quite tired. What do you do when you are knackered and required to lead people onto week 2 of the most amazing event in world history? I did my best and confessed to people over a cup of coffee afterwards that I was a bit out of sorts - nobody seemed to realise and the service went well anyway. Shows how much I know! But back to normailty now. A busy week with lots to do; must find time for God again.

Holy Week

I posted this last year but thought it was worth posting again. Holy Week and the events surrounding Jesus' last week are often missed in our church calendar because we don't meet every day of Holy Week so we miss important bits. Below is a list of references from Mark's Gospel (courtesy of Marcus Borg & Dominic Crossan) as I thought you might like to follow the story up to Good Friday.

Palm Sunday

Mark 11:1-11

Monday

Mark 11: 12-19

Tuesday (A very busy day!)

Mark 11:20-25 (This picks up from Monday and completes the story. The fig
tree is supposed to be like the Temple).
Mark 11:27-33
Mark 12:1-12
Mark 12:13-17
Mark 12:18-27
Mark 12:28-34
Mark 12:35-44
Mark 13:1-4
Mark 13:5-37

Wednesday

Mark 14:1-11

Thursday

Mark 14:12-16
Mark 14:17-25
Mark 14:26-52
Mark 14:53-65

Friday

Mark 15:1-21
Mark 15:22-32
Mark 15:33
Mark 15:34-41
Mark 15:42-47

Am I part of the problem?

Once again I have to apologise for not blogging sooner, but Easter has been a very busy time although last week was much lighter for some reason and I had some time to reflect on what I am trying to do. Trouble is that I am starting to wonder what impact I am having. Hopefully it's positive! But I have recently encountered two more people who have fallen or who are falling out of church. One was a man in his thirties - well educated and well schooled in church but said to me that he was struggling with the idea of church and finding it less and less relevant. I fear in a few years he will stop going and will struggle with what it all means. I then had a 'phone call from someone who I had never met. She said that she had heard what I was doing (starting a meeting for people to be much more honest about the way they feel about church and to express their fears about their dwindling faith). She lived hundreds of miles away and had been a life-long church member and had heard of our group. She too was fed up with church and wanted a safe place to say what she felt without being told to pray harder or read her Bible more. As a Methodist minister I questioned whether I am becoming the problem. My prayer is that I am showing people the way to the solution. It made me stop and think; if people who have been part of church for many years are starting to question their faith in this way, how many more people in our own churches are doing the same but don't feel they can voice their fears? If so do I ignore them and hope things will right themselves or do I do something expressly for them but risk opening Pandora's box? I'm still thinking. Will I be able to close the lid on the box if I open it?

Doh!!!

I'm now 6 months into being a Methodist minister and as usual at the end of each day I look back over it and reflect on how its gone. You know, what went well, what didn't etc. If I am thinking about a lot of things then I sometimes forget things, so reflection is always good. Well, last Sunday was the first in Lent and a communion service. Communion is very special and I always try to get it 'right' and try to strike a balance of propriety and excitement/reverence. It all went well and afterwards I thought that the right balance had been struck and everything was as it should have been. I conducted the service on my own but on reflection I felt I needed some help at the front next time. I went to the person who helped me last time (when I was ill) who was a great help and asked her if she would assist next time. Of course she said and smiled broadly. Then she asked me why I hadn't taken communion this morning...Doh!!! In my concern to get it right and serve everybody I had forgotten myself. 'Don't worry' she said, 'I don't suppose anyone noticed'. Nobody has mentioned it yet, but time will tell.

Ash Wednesday

I've just come back from an Ash Wednesday service. I have never been to one before and expected it to be the normal type of service 'from the book' but today was different. Earlier, I was looking for material for our Good Friday services and watched a short episode of Dr Who. It made me cry - crikey! What's the matter with me? Then during the service this evening I was overcome with a flash of comprehension of just what Jesus did for me. It was quite shocking, and I cried again. Carefully and thoughtfully I eagerly said the words in the book, '...you create us from the dust of the earth. Let these ashes be for us a sign of our repentance and a symbol of our mortality. May we always remember that by your grace alone we are given eternal life...' I've stopped crying now.

Well, that's it then. We had a great night talking about church and what it means to be afraid. We chatted for two and a half hours and ate pancakes and chocolate. We used up most of the flour and eggs, ready for Lent tomorrow. Then, when everyone had gone I poured my last cup of coffee for 46 days and drank it very slowly. The thought of not having a coffee until Easter is a little daunting (of course, if I want I can have a coffee on Sundays as these are feast days and don't count towards a fast). I'll let you know how I get on. Am I afraid? Just a bit.

I went on a structured retreat recently and we did this exercise. It was quite interesting and I ended up thinking hard on the result. You might like to give it a go. Find a quiet place away from everything for fifteen minutes and follow the instructions. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, please stop. Someone can read it to you or you can remember the steps, close your eyes and see what happens...

Imagine that there is a sculptor who is working on a statue of you behind the locked door. He gives you the key to the door so you can look at it. You unlock the door and the sculpture is in the middle of the room covered with a cloth. you walk up to it and take off the cloth. Step back and have a look at it. What's your first impression? Are you pleased/disatisfied? Study all the detail of it. What is it made from? How big is it? Walk around it and see it from different angles. Touch it. Is it rough or smooth? Which bits do you like and dislike?

Now become the statue. What does it feel like to be the statue? What kind of existence do you have as the statue?

Imagine that Jesus comes into the room. How does he look at you? What do you feel like when he is looking at you? What does he say to you? What do you say back to him? After a while he goes away. Now return to yourself. Look at the statue again. Is there any change in the statue? Is there any change in you or your feelings? Now say goodbye to your statue. Take a minute and open your eyes.

Back in September when I was a very new minister (unlike now), I mentioned that I was struggling with people's perceptions of a person wearing a clerical collar (see The Collar). I left it with the question, 'so do I persevere with this collar or do I bow to public opinion?'
Well, I'm still not sure what to do. There are times when my churches expect me to wear it, but what of people outside the church? I was talking someone recently who was a little surprised that I would consider not wearing it. 'After all, you do represent the presence of God in the community...don't you?' At this point, a skip load of theology came into my head. You know, the priesthood of all believers and all of that. Supposing all those professing to follow Jesus considered themselves as the presence of God in the community. I think that would make a much bigger difference than my plastic collar. The Methodist Church certainly believes that we all have our part to play. The Methodist Worship Book states, 'All Christians are called through their Baptism and by the hearing of God's word to ministry and service among the whole people of God and in the life of the church and in the life of the world'. So can I take it off? Not yet...

Funny

This link from asbo jesus made me laugh. I have to admit, sometimes there is a (self-imposed) pressure to come up with something new at every service...

Sorry it's been a while since I last posted but I have been a little poorly lately - and it's the first bout of illness I've had as a minister. In fact, it's the first bout of illness I've had for a long time. So what does a new minister do when they are ill? Do they phone up the night before the Covenant service and tell the Superintendent that they are ill? I suppose I could have done that, but I didn't think she would be too impressed and if I was going to cry off, then I should have done it earlier. But as I didn't, I thought I had better just get on with it. This was fine until half way through when it came to leading the service by saying the covenant...I felt very light-headed and faint. I was glad for the lectern which held me up quite nicely. I was also very glad of my communion steward who led me through communion and reminded me that I needed to kneel down to receive the bread and wine. I'm not sure how the service ended but I think it was OK. My problem is that I enjoy what I do so much. Coupled with the fact that it was the covenant service, meant that I was compelled to be there. After all it is a most wonderful service.
Am I indispensable? No. Do I feel that I have a responsibility to small congregations who are paying a lot of money toward my stipend? Unfortunately, yes. I'm on the mend now but not so sure that I'll do it differently next time...

Philip Pullman

I'm just finishing the Philip Pullman trilogy, His Dark Materials. They are children's books but seem to have grabbed people's attention. Even my good friend Jean who is nearly 80 has had a go at reading one of them. Ordinarily I wouldn't have contemplated reading children's books like this. It's a strange mixture of science, modern and post-modern thought added with some over active imagination and a large lump of pick and mix theology. I was prompted to have a look as a result of a theology book about being human by Jane Craske. I'm either very confident in my faith or way off beam...but it has made me question just how much of an athiest he is.

This is my local Anglican church and I love to worship here - sometimes. After all, I am a Methodist minister so 'sometimes' is OK. But I was walking past at Christmas and thought how nice it looked and I saw this sign outside. Actually, this sign is often out, inviting people in to spend time with God. But I did have to ask myself the question, 'why is God more in the building than outside?'. I took Ruby in (my errant dog) this week and prayed in the front pew. It was a good feeling, but I don't believe in a God who sometimes comes down and intervenes and sometimes doesn't. I believe in a God who is always there and I don't have to invoke him - just find him. So why do I think that in this Church I sometimes feel closer to God? Monks sometimes called these places where we feel closer to God as 'thin places' where the gap between heaven and earth was narrower than other places. What say you...?