And so we enter Advent; the time of waiting, of delay before the delight and celebration of Christmas. And here at church we are waiting as well - we are in that time of waiting and wondering which in inherent in any change. We know change is coming, but we are not sure what it will lead to, nor yet how long the process will be.
Waiting is one of those things that most of us are not very good at. It is a commonplace amongst ministers to hear comments and struggles to keep Advent as Advent, and not rush ahead to Christmas. And ministers are as much, if not more to blame, as others - because of the need to prepare and orgainse, we are often far ahead of the actual season in order to be ready for the season to come.
And this anticipation of what is to come getting in the way of what is actually here is a pattern all too obvious in much of our lives. Much of it, I believe, is driven by our anxiety. Because we are worried about what is to come, we feel the need to control it, and sort it out, find the answers, or the new shape, or whatever it is, as soon as possible. And this can drive us too fast. And, even more crucially, it can push us to making the world the way we want it, or believe it should be, instead of waiting to see what God will reveal, what God is doing.
Advent is a waiting time. A time when we might, if we dare, let go of our anxiety, and trust that God is working in God's own time. And that the promised future is of God with us.

Today, if you walk into our foyer, on the top of the filing cabinet behind the reception table, you will see a single shoe and a teddy bear wearing a hat! No - I have no idea why either; I think the teddy bear is a reminder of our commitment to St Mungos in Endell St; our competition of photos of teddies wearing hats (if you haven't heard about it, check the magazine!) The shoe was presumably left following an audtion or something like that - somebody has changed, and forgotten to collect all their belongings perhaps.
On passing comment to somebody in the foyer, we agreed "it's very Bloomsbury" And I have come away form the both the foyer and the conversation wondering just what that phrase means. We use it a lot - usually when something is odd - like shoes and teddies in unexpected places, or when things are going very well, but not necessarily according to plan (most Sundays!) or when an interesting group of people has gathered - people who might not otherwise be expected to be together. All lovely moments, and all to be treasured and valued.
But in what ways are they "typically" Bloomsbury - and how do we use the phrase?
It's the kind of phrase I have heard in every church I have ever been part of. Each church will - quite rightly - tell a visitor or a new member "we are not like any other church". And it is true - no two churches are alike, since each is made up of a particular and unique group of people. And celebrating our uniqueness, the particular group of people God has called into this community, to serve in this place at this time, to meet in this way, and worship in this form is a significant way of saying thank you to God for God's desire for each of us to discover and affirm our own uniqueness in God's eye, and our own belovedness in God's heart.
But I think we need to be very careful not to do two things; to believe that our uniqueness makes us more special, more beloved, more deeply in the heart of God than other communities or people, and secondly, to make sure that we do not use our uniqueness to exclude others - a shadow side of such an awareness of being unique is that we can use it as a filter to keep out, or keep on the edge, those who don;t fit our internal model.
I love this church, with its own quirks and complexities. I believe we are a very special community of the people of God. But I am deeply concerned that we do not ever think that we are special in such a way that we miss what God is doing among us and among others.

Last week, in the blog, I was thinking about the importance of meeting together as a discipline to keep us in touch with each other, maintining relationships as a priority, and the significance of that in keeping us alert to the presence of God. But that left me with a question; meeting is important and meeting regularly matters as a practice. But how might we meet? We currently order our lives to meet regularly at 11.00 and 5.30 on a Sunday. In fact, of course, for many of us, the meeting starts muich ealier as we gather to organise things for the day, and to share coffee before the service. And the time we spend in the foyer after the service, and then at lunch is also and important part of our practice. But is this the best time. Is this a useful time for what we need to do. Various congregations in other parts of the country are experimenting with meeting at different times, in different ways - partly in response to the particular demands on people's lives - but also as a way of mission; instead of being "in church" at certain times, they are free to be where others are, to meet and get to know neighbours, to open up possibilities of making the kinds of connections that are needed if there is going to be new possibilities of inviting people to encouter faith.
We keep our building open and invite people in. We are good at it. The folk who give time and energy to keeping the doors open, to offering hospitality, to meeting the need that shows up on our doorstep are at the heart of the mission of the church.
But it is very building and structure centred. I wonder - I just wonder - might we also need to think of new things - of ways not of inviting people in here, at least initially, but of getting ourselves outside, of moving beyond our safety zone?
And what impact might that have on our practice of meeting to worship - what changes, choices and challenges might we have to deal with?
And are we prepared to?

This is the time of year when things start to close in; the light is less as we change the clocks, the weather changes, and our attention turns more inward – getting home in the evening, closing the curtains, being cosy. On just such a kind of evening, we could imagine Jesus and his friends arriving at Martha and Mary’s and looking forward to their hospitality. It is the time for offering and receiving welcome, for enjoying hospitality and making sure we have time to be with friends.
It can be all too easy not to make that time. We get very busy, and we are coming up to one of the busiest times of the year at church, with Christmas approaching and all the events and fun we will have with that. And many of us have responsibilities not just outside church, but away from London – caring for family, work we must do, tasks to sort out. I am struck each year by how easy it is to make good resolutions to stay in touch, and then to forget actually to do it! It seems to me that this is one of the values of meeting regularly for worship – a routine that helps give rhythm. Knowing that we at least have the intention of gathering, even if in actual fact it can prove hard, reminds us that meeting people – physically being together with time to talk, to catch up, and yes, to do things, is an important part of building healthy lives and sustaining friendships. And it can serve too as a model for how we keep in touch with other friends and family – the reminder that we actually need to do it.
It is also important in sustaining our life in God. God dos not let us go. But there are times when just being busy means that noticing God’s presence is crowded out. And making time and space deliberately to pay attention helps us not to go too long without noticing. Of course, that does mean letting God have space in our time when we gather – but perhaps that’s another topic.....