Bloomsbury Baptist

2011-03-01T21:07:00.002Z

Well, we are migrating soon; the website that is. And this blog, instead of being a link found through the website, will be fully integrated into the new one. And that may even mean we can cope with comments. But don't hold your breath, just in case.
There may be other changes on the blog - we hope that others may get involved in writing, and that it may be more of a community effort, rather than simply my voice.
That's something we are trying to achieve in various contexts within our life together; exploring ways of hearing more than one voice. We already do it to some degree when we meet on a Sunday; we hear different voices in the readings, and sometimes in the prayers. We join together in responses. We listen as people lead us through music.
But there is room in our worship for many more voices - taking part in ways already established, and in finding new ways of sharing. It is a significant part of Baptist identity that we hear the voice of God for us in each others speaking. And so it is important that we learn to speak together.
And that of course, means that we need to learn to listen well too. We already practice this when we take seriously the role of the congregation in preaching. One of the privileges in being part of team ministry is the opportunity to listen to preaching, as well as offer it. And so, it is with some authority, even as a preacher, that I am qualified to comment that to listen well, to listen participatively, to allow the word to be the Word by listening, engaging, encountering and expecting is at least as active as preaching.
Without good listeners - listeners who expect to hear and require one to dare to speak so that there is the possibility of hearing, and whose hearing is one that is committed, then there is no word spoken that can become the Word in the world.
Please God, as we learn to bring more and more voices into our worship - and our blog - we will pay as much attention to listening well, and letting the Word be heard among and through us.

2011-02-24T17:34:00.003Z

Sorry to be late with the blog this week; as Barbara used to say when we were working together, I'm not sure what I've been doing, but it's taken me all day (or two!) But one of the things I did yesterday was spend some time with a young man who comes into the church at various times. At the moment, ife is particularly tough for him, and I am very grateful to those who, yesterday, were able to provide exactly what was needed. And so was he, and he spent some time telling me just how much it meant to him. The phrase he used several times was "I don't know how this church does it; it's so amazing!" After saying this, in various forms, he then went a little further - "I suppose it's something that has been handed down". I'm not sure exactly what hemeant by it, but it has remained with me as a wonderful description of something important in the life of any church; the formation of a way of being, a culture, a set of habits - I am not sure exactly what to call it - that determines how we will act, and what kind of people we will be.
The thing about this way of exploring and creating an identity is that, unless we pay close attention to just how we are forming such who we are, we will be formed unreflectively, by habits and patterns that are not actually those of the Kingdom.
Part of what is happening when we gather - to hear the story of Scripture, and to explore it together at XChange, in home groups, in Sunday Club; to share bread and wine - and all the other food we eat together; to sing and to pray,- we are given opportunities to develop certain ways of being. We learn to listen and talk carefully and to know ourselves as part of bigger story, to serve one another, and to identify who we are through a pattern of self-giving that is cross-shaped.
One of the challenges of developing this kind of life is to move it from beyond the formal things we do together, and let these patterns invade the normal stuff of our life - the encounters which happen unexpectedly, the moments when we are taken off guard, the times when we are called on to act without time to reflect or to put up our guards.
My friend yesterday was reflecting that, in the matter of caring for people, meeting them where they are, and being practical in our response, is deeply engrained in who we are as a community. This is a matter for deep gratitude. Those who have gone before us have helped to shape a community of the kind that for those of us who live its life now, we are shaped into this generous and effective caring.
Which leaves several questions for us here and now. Not the least of which is, what are we shaping and handing on as the continuing identity, sense of what it means to be here and to be the people of God? And what are we doing to make sure it becomes deeply embedded in us and in the life we offer others?

2011-02-15T14:56:00.002Z

Various surprising people over the last week have told me that they regularly read this blog; surprising simply because it had not occurred to me that they - you, and you probably know who you are - knew that it existed. One of the frustrations of not being able to manage comments is that our blog appears to live in a vacuum. (Despite my - admittedly not very skilled - best efforts, turning the comments on still eludes me. But our new website is due very soon, and then all will be different, I hope!!) And living in a vacuum is not a good place to be; indeed, I guess technically this image doesn't work, since nothing can live in a vacuum. Interaction is important, knowing how people read what is written, and the impact it has. And many of you have been very kind in your responses.
This need to interact is becoming important for us at the moment, especially as we think afresh about how we make contact with those who do not claim faith. We are grateful to those who have agreed to help us think about this, and there are all sorts of things to think through. And not the least is understanding people and the contexts in which they live and think. It is very easy, especially for those of us who have been part of the church for a long time, to forget that life and ways of understanding the world can be very different; generational differences, cultural differences, linguisitic differences and differences of ways of viewing the world - all of these matter as we try to find ways of communicating. If we are going to make connections, then it will have to be with people as they actually are, and not as we think they should be, nor as we know ourselves to be. I write this blog each (well, most) weeks about things that matter to me, in ways that make sense to me. I am grateful to those who make the effort to contact me - even when technically it is difficult. But it will be so much richer, so much more meaningful, once we can communicate.
And our commitment to communicate beyond our walls and beyond ourselves require even more determination to understand and make links, and to explore ways of communicating that may challenge how we see and think and expect; but which will be in line with the God who moved out of a safe and secure place into the risk and openess, identification and vulnerability of incarnation.

2011-02-01T10:18:00.004Z

The noise around us continues, and very exhausting it is too. The struggle is that there is nothing to do but get through it; like so many things that happen without our choosing, the only way through is through.
What happens to us when we get "stuck" in a situaiton; when, despite all our best efforts and all our most fervent wishes - even prayers - nothing seems to change, and things remain as they are, ways we don't like.
This can happen in so many areas. It can be our own experience of ourselves (as we move into February, there is in some circles much laughing conversation about how tattered new year's resolutions now look, for example); it can be in our care of each other - when we want life to be better for the people we worry about, and there is nothing we can do to change things; it can be as we contemplate the state and position of the world - situations that look impossible or uncertain, and which do not seem to offer any possibility of change?
I am more and more convinced that the call in such times is just to stay - to hang on in there. In conversations with various people who work in community based groups in the area of the church, one of the regular things that is commented on is that we (the church here) are here for the long-term; we don't dash in and out, we are not dependent on the kind of funding that can all too easily be withdrawn with little or no notice, we are not going to disappear if things get tough. It's the kind of thing we tend to take for granted, so it is interesting to note that it is something others see about us.
It matters in our internal life too. Some of us live in and with situations that appear to offer no hope of change. It may be ill-health, it may be demanding responsibilities, it may be something much harder to put into words. But one of the things we offer each other is staying there, walking the hard - or simply long - path, not giving up when things don't change despite our best efforts and deepest hopes.
Thank God for the grace of carrying on - and thank you to all of you who do it with us and for us.

2011-01-18T15:41:00.002Z

Being around our building is, once more, to be very aware of the noise that building work can create. The building next door, this time, is the one that is being reconstructed, and there has a been a great deal of hammering and drilling. And today, there was more work being done on the road at the back, involving what appears to be elephants dancing on biscuits - loud and crunchy!
Also on a Tuesday - the day I am writing this - we have our "Waiting Prayer" meeting; a half hour of silent prayer, whcih, for those of us who attend, is a welcome oasis in a loud and busy life.
I ofund myself fantasising during the prayer today (I make no claims to be a disciplined prayer!) about running away to somewhere green, wind swept - and without mechanical noise. It would be so much easier to pray there, runs the imagining. I would not be so abstracted or wooly-witted. I would really achieve depths of communion with God.
But in fact, I believe that praying in this context - surrounded by noise and at times rather overwhelmed by the business and busyness of life in the city - keeps us real. If our prayer and worship only "works", only appears to have reality in pleasant, quiet, perhaps even "romantic" contexts,then we need to ask just what we think we are doing. There is no chance of that happening in our building; we are kept in touch with the life and demands, the joys and the challenges of living among people day to day.
And it keeps our day to day life real too. For as we pray and worship in the midst of the city, we keep alive the links between the complexities, joys and ever-pressing presence of living in our lives and in our city. Praying and worshipping in the noise and busyness not only stops our worship become isolated from the realities we live in; it also stops the everyday and immediate realities of our living becoming separated from the deep presence and activity of God.
So I am trying to give up my fantasy of a green space in order to be able to pray truly. And if you would like to explore with me even further the challenge of praying in our situation, come and join me sometime.

2011-01-11T08:44:00.003Z

During the past week, I have been having a conversation with a friend about a particular series of novels. The main character in the books is somebody who lives according to a very strong moral sense, and a deep commitment to right, good and love. Fans of the writer often speak of the impact of this writing on their own sense of self, and of the model the character provides.
In talking about this - and other - books that have mattered to us, I have become even more convinced, or perhaps it is that I have managed more clearly than usual to articulate, the recognition that for many of us, there are guiding texts; they may be books, or films, music or TV programmes (Patrick Stewart, when he took the role of Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the Star Ship Enterprise, in the series Star Trek, commented that he had been taken aback by the realisation that there were people who took his character as a life-model - and the responsibility that placed on him.)But whatever they are, they form a narrative that speaks to us of character, and what is admirable, of aims and how we might achieve them, of what it means to be a person, and how to do it.
The question is not will we have a base narrative - the question is do we know what it is, and have we chosen it with awareness.
Perhaps the year when we reflect on the translation of the Scriptures that we know as the Authorized Version, it is a good time to think further together about how, if at all, Scripture can be a base narrative for us?

2011-01-04T10:04:00.002Z

The waiting over, the celebrations begun - and, it feels like, ended. Christmas is sooooo past now; we are into the new year, we are faced with putting away all the decorations, we are trying to lose the weight we have just put on, we have packed up the carol books....
But if Christmas means anything more than just a happy holiday, a lot to eat and some pretty pictures (to say nothing of the sheer delight of the nativity play)it mustn't be something we can pack away. Christmas is about birth; birth is about beginning; beginning implies continuity. And so, how do we continue? How to we go on with Christmas, or the implications of Christmas.
Perhaps we can do it through the other dominant theme this week; a new year's resolution. Perhaps we can resolve to do better, to live differently, to be better people.
Except - is that what the birth is about? Is that what we have been waiting for - a chance to try and get it right (again) and discover (again) that we can't do it?
Or might we have been waiting for something else? Might we dare to believe that the meaning we are offered in the birth is that it is not all down to us, that we are not the centre of the universe, nor the only ones who are responsible, nor is our strength all there is?
It's a new year, it's the Christmas season, it's the time when the promise "God with us" is offered anew.
I wonder if I can trust it? I wonder if you can? Might we do it together?

2010-12-21T12:10:00.002Z

Can we sustain the waiting any more; is it possible to wait any longer..? And yet we must. Today is the winter solstice. But it is not yet Christmas. There are still a few days to wait. As I write, many people are discovering the powerlessness of waiting, as the weather insterferes with plans, and means that they must wait until things change, until flights become possible again, or trains are running, or roads are clear. And when plans have been made, and meetings anticipated, and expectations raised - it is hard to be left waiting with no knowing when things will be resolved.
And yet it is the nature of our waiting always - our waiting for the Kingdom, without knowing when it will come. We know and trust the promises, we know that, as we celebrate Christmas - eventually - we are being given the promise that the intentions of God will be fulfilled.
But not yet, not fully.
And as we ask, why not yet, why not fully, there is a question that comes back to us. If this is the promise we live by and claim to trust - will we, dare we live it out. And who might be waiting for us to do so, in order that the goodness, the yes that is the incarnation might invade their life?

2010-12-14T17:59:00.002Z

And our waiting continues. We are three weeks into Advent, and Christmas feels so near - so near we can almost touch it. Today, we have had Tuesday Christmas lunch, and sung carols. On Sartuday we will sing carols at Trafalgar Square (come and join us 6-7 pm at the Christmas tree) and on Sunday we have our nativity play in the evening - 6.00pm, all welcome.
But we are not there yet. So near we can almost touch it, flashing out into our days, sparkiling in the corner of a glace - but we are not there yet.
We wait and still wait, and there is a discipline in waiting, a discpline it is all too easy to abandon. There was a report recently that some people were looking for a faster way of communicating with people - email is too slow apparently. Waiting to hear, waiting to respond, waiting to consider what is said and to consider how to reply. How much better would some of our communication be if we learned to wait.
And how much might our communication with God increase and deepen, if we learned to wait - to wait in God's presence, to wait for God's response, to recongise that the waiting is part of the process.
This Saturday, we have another in our season of Playing at Prayer - a time to experiment, wait, not achieve anything, - and meet God. A good advent practice. Come and join our waiting if you have time.....

2010-12-07T13:26:00.002Z

And the waiting continues. It is hard to wait. We are struggling hard not to sing the carols, or reading the readings, or go straight to the story of the angels and shepeherds and the baby in the story.
But Advent makes us wait.
One of the gifts of waiting is the opportunity that it gives us to exercise our imaginations. For much of waiting is made up of fantasy - we wonder what is to come, we imagine what is to come, we construct possibilities and write scripts and project ourselves forward into the future.
It can be a problem. It can allow room for anxiety to gorw ansd take root. We have a deep capacity to imagine the worst, albiet vaguely and in shadowy outline. Much of our resistance to waiting comes from this anxiety.
But it can also be a gift. We can begin to think "what if"? "What should this future be?" "How might I allow what is best in me, in us, shape what is coming?"
And we can allow the Spirit's imagination to be at work in us, alerting us to possibilities. As we listen to the promises of Advent, we hear the divine imagination at work; of a world of wholeness and peace, where lion and lamb live together, where people's work is properly honoured and rewarded.
Waiting through Advent, listening to the promises, not rushing through them, but letting them invade our imaginations, draws us more deeply into God's imagining the world that will be.
And the promise that Advent points to is that God's imagining will be fulfilled and completed - Emmanuel, God with us; Jesus, the yes to all God's promises.

2010-11-30T15:46:00.003Z

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.

2010-11-23T10:31:00.002Z

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.

2010-11-16T10:50:00.002Z

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?

2010-11-09T12:42:00.001Z

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.....

2010-10-26T08:32:00.003+01:00

During Sunday's morning service, we heard a report on the parliamentary lobby that Christian Aid had organised during the week. The issue that was being addressed was to do with multinationals and tax. We were encouraged to write to our MPs, and to contact some of the companies who have given some indication that they might be willing to be more transparent in their tax declarations.
If you want to know more about it, please follow this link
http://christianaid.org.uk/ActNow//dosomething/october/index.aspx

2010-10-19T08:54:00.002+01:00

Last week, I had a special treat; I was able to do a morning on Open Doors - to sit for several hours welcoming people into the church. We are deeply grateful to those who come regularly and do this work, and make it possible for us to keep the building functioning. It can be very quiet, or it can be hectic and full. But that's the joy of it; it is never clear who is about to come in - and what they are going to want. And it is certianly never clear that what somebody wants is what we are going to be able to give.
Sometimes people come in in order to go to something going on elseswhere in the building. Sometimes people want somewhere to sit, to have a rest - maybe to have a cup of coffee. Some folk want to sit and chat, and we get to know them quite well as they come regularly. Some are just passing through. Some want to come in and see the church, to sit quietly in the church or chapel, to have a respite from noise, to pray, to let their souls catch up with their bodies. Then there are the folks who come into ask for directions - to the British Museum, to Covent Garden, to Oxford Street are the most common, and folk who come in looking for a toilet.
And then there are people who come in needing help - needing money, needing food, needing support.
And sometimes we can find a way to help, and sometimes we can't.
And even when we can, it's still not enough sometimes - often, it's not enough.
And sometimes there are those who come in looking for help we cannot give; sometimes practical - longterm accomodation, work, more resources. Sometimes emotional care and support which is beyond our resources and our skills.
These are the hardest encounters. How to say no? What to do when there is nothing we can do. And how to live with ourselves, to accept that there are limits to our giving, our capacity?
It's something we cannot just dismiss. At a church meeting a year or so ago, we had a conversation about what sort of things we should be doing. One of the things that came up from a lot of people was that we need to concentrate on what we can do, and let go of trying to do everything.
It is easy to say.
It is hard to do when the need is not just in principle, but is a face and body and voice and request right in front of us.
It is hard to say no. It is hard to let somebody down. It is hard to admit we are limited - not God.
Perhaps part of our praying as a congregation should be that we learn - learn well and learn deeply - that we are not God, and let God be God. And that means also accepting there times when we need to say no - while trusting God may have other resources to meet the need we can't.
Difficult.
Life-saving.

2010-10-12T02:16:00.002+01:00

We have had a variety of special services recently; there has been a wedding, and there is another one coming up this week, on Sunday morning we had a dedication service for a baby, and in a couple of weeks we will be welcoming a new member into membership.
All of these services involve praying for God's blessing on the people concerned, and also words and actions of commitment. There are big promises made in each - to love, to be loyal, to care and to give of ourselves.
We make these promises each time we attend such a service. As congregations, we make them fairly regularly - each time somebody joins, each time somebody brings their child for thanksgiving and blessing.
Promising is one of those actions in which we change the world by what we say. The promise is made, it exists and has power not through any physical thing that we do, but by our speech, our assent and agreement. When we have said "yes" or its equivalent in such a context, the world is a different place, and we are different people.
It is easy for us to think that our words don't matter, that they are ineffective or powerless. But in this, we are the image of God. God asid "let there be light" and there was light. The world was different, and life would not be unaffected. And when we say "I promise" the world is different - and the way we live can no longer be the same.
I have been thrilled at the special services we have had. But they scare me just the same. It's a daunting thought to change the world with a word. Can I live out the reality?

2010-10-05T02:24:00.002+01:00

On Sunday we celebratd Harvest Thanksgiving. It's an odd activity in the middle of a city. Food of course is still central to our lives, and looking around our building we are never in any danger of forgetting that. Within the building, much of what we do centres on eating together, and on the preparation and clearing up that enable that. And outside, the number of places where it is possible to buy something to eat and drink seems to increase weekly (and with the new buildings at Central St Giles there are going to be even more possibilities). But harvest time - the recongnition of the turning of the seasons, the hands on awareness of the growth and ripening of the food which is crucial to our survival - for many of us, the immediate connection to that is not an everyday reality.
Perhaps it is precisely for that reason that celebrating harvest is important. Just because we do not see the fields ripening, watch - or even take part - in the cutting and storing of the crops, enter into the worry about the impact of weather or the damage done by parasites. Cut off as we are from the realities of what our food is, where it comes from, its giveness rather than our ability to control it, we need a regular occasion to be reminded to say thank you, to reflect on the complexity of creation, on the interconnectedness of the world, and our dependence on it. This year, Megabytes led us in reflection on the place and the plight of the bee, and helped us to think about, to pray about, and to be open to what we might do about the risks that we all face in an interconnected creation, when what looks like one small part is in danger.
We could take the thinking about this further. Just as we need harvest thanksgiving to keep us in touch with what we all too easily forget in our particular way of life, so we need the regular times of worship and reflection that keep us open to the life of faith, the love of God which we can all too easily forget because it is not the normal context in which we move. Our lives are interconnected with the lives of the bees. Our lives are interconnected with the life of God and so with each other. But we need to take time to know that, and to let what it means settle in us so that we can live it out.
So, we thank God for the provision for living. And we ask God for the responsibility to live well.

2010-09-28T03:27:00.002+01:00

This week sees the last of the Bloomsbury summer outings. During the summer instead of the lunch and speaker that form the centre of Tuesdays at Bloom, we have a series of outings to various places. This year these have included going to Walmer to see Seyan, going to Kenwood Park, a tour of St Paul's, and today's visit to Amersham. Different people come on different trips, though there is a core group who come on most of them, drawn from those who are regular at Tuesdays. Some of these destinations are on our schedule each year, others are new. The trips give us the chance to see different parts of the country, to travel in a group when travelling somewhere alone would be less appealing, and to have time together and get to know each other a bit better.
As we come to the end of them, I have been wondering about the whole idea, and how it fits into the life of a church. After all, at the heart of being a church is the intention to come togeher for worship, and to work together in service (at least, that is one definition). Nowhere is the idea of being travel agent included in that kind of description.
But the central identity of church is fellowship. We are none of us church alone. Church is community; all the theology and practice of church, whatever flavour it is involves more than one person. So, something about our trips together connects to this sense of being in relationship with each other, and having the chance to give those relationships more depth.
There is also, in being church, something about destabilising or challenging our set ways of thinking and experiencing the world. The account of the world we give in worship, the practice of turning our commitment away from ourselves and towards the other all, when we open ourselves to their full impact, challenge our presupposition of how things are, and who we are. And to travel - to spend time in a different place, to meet different people, experience a different environment and discover new things - all of these experiences also open us up to a world that is bigger than our normal, and offer us possibilities that we are not all there is, and our immediate experience does not defin the full truth. Many of us are not able to undertake long or demanding journeys to be shaken from our small world view - but short trips with people we do not deliberately choose but who are there because they too have chosen to go, to places others have chosen for us, and on days that may not suit our schedule; these trips may at least offer a glimpse, for those who choose to see, of the deeper possibilities that the life of faith calls us to.
And lest all this seems too "deep and meaningful", such trips ar fun - they are a celebration of being alive in a wonderful world. And that surely is involved in church!
I will miss our Tuesday trips, as we move into autumn. Thank you to all who have organised them, who have hosted us, who have made suggestions, who have come along. If you have not taken part before, perhaps you might join us next year?

2010-09-20T10:15:00.002+01:00

One of the gifts that Bloomsbury gives to the wider church is the way in which as a church it sets its ministers free to serve in a wider capacity. It's not an easy gift, and there are times when it takes negotiation, but we can usually make it work.
And so this week, I am going to the European Baptist Federation Executive and Council. We will discuss much of importance to our life together throughout Europe (not just a geographical reality; as the Rector of the EBF seminary, International Baptist Theological Seminary in Prague likes to point out, Baptists are much better at mission than they are geography)
But if my experience of other such gatherings is anything to go by, the real meaning of such an event is as much in the conversations and sharing of news, the making of new friendships and the dicovering of each others' stories. It is hard to make these kind of comments without sounding trite or sweetly pious - but they are nonetheless true.
Yesterday morning, we have a visiting preacher, Rev Dr Maggie Dawn, chaplain at Robertson College in Cambridge and writer-theoligian. She started her sermon by helping us to think about the importance not only of propositional knowledge, but also of story and imagination in shaping who we are and how we live. And it all goes together. To hear stories from other people of their experience, their insights, their encounters - and to offer our own - all of this enriches not just our "knowledge" of how the world is and can be. It also shapes our imaging, our imagination of how the world might be. And thus the Kingdom is coming.

2010-09-14T08:59:00.002+01:00

This week, life at Bloomsbury is dominated by Simon's news on Sunday that he will be leaving us at Easter. He doesn't know where he will be going yet, but it has become clear that for the sake of the family, and for the good of ministry, it is time to look for work closer to where the family is based.
A change in a ministry is always a testing time for a church. It raises all sorts of questions, some absolutely obvious, others much harder to put into words. We wonder about what life will be like without the person who is leaving, we wonder what plans we need to out into place to take things forward, we wonder what changes we will need - and will have to - make?
And below it, we wonder about why somebody is leaving, what is "better" on the other side of the fence perhaps - or we wonder how we might feel relief without feeing disloyalty, we wonder how to make the choices that will need to be made, and we wonder who we are as a community, and who we might be in the face of such great changes.
There's a lot of wondering. We are fortunate that Simon has been able to give us a long time to adjust and to make plans. And we are also fortunate that we know, even within our wondering, that the life of the church congregation is not ours alone to sustain, but is part of the life that God is expressing in the world. The stories in the gospels, the stories of the church through time is the reminder that in our wondering as well as in our knowing, in our getting it right and in our getting wrong in making decisions, God works, and we look for the coming of the Kingdom. We have responsibilities, we need to take our roles seriously - and we can trust that God works in and through who we are, and that is our hope and our future.

2010-09-07T11:34:00.003+01:00

One of the delightful things about being a minister is that you get to make many of your mistakes in public. And I managed a whole series in worship on Sunday morning. I think the most obvious one was the muddle of the Lord's prayer. Having invited people to pray in the language with which they were most familiar, I then found myself caught between the two versions I am most familiar with - the Scots and the English (shades of my recent visit to Edinburgh) In case you don't know, in Scotland, we debt for ever, in England we trespass for ever and ever. And the paralysis that hit me as I tried to remember where I was led to me missing the line out altogether! Well, if you're sitting in the congregation, and get in a muddle like that, it's survivable. But when you're up front, and yours is the voice leading through the PA system - not a good moment. So, thank you to all of you who had the graciousness not to point it out to me.
But it does raise an interesting question about prayer and how we pray. What does it mean to get it "right"? And what happens if we - according to some sort of judgement - get it "wrong"? So often, we find it hard to pray because we don't know "how" to do it. And, more fundamentally, who makes those judgements - or what is right and wrong, what is "good" and "bad" prayer? I am convinced more and more that, as children of God, all our prayer, coherent or muddled as we judge it, is the babbling of infants; and we know how a loving parent adores the babbling of the infant. And how much the infant enjoys babbling - and is totally unselfconscious, totally un-self-judgemental (is there such a word and if there isn't why not!)about it, for it is the experience of communicating, and having fun in it that matters.
And what freedom might that bring in prayer.
I fully intend to get the Lord's prayer right next week. But - does it matter if I make a muddle?

And - carrying on with public mistakes - sorry, still haven't got the comments sorted; I can comment, but nobody else yet. Not quite the result I was aiming at. But work in progress....

the saga continues - and apologies

2010-09-01T16:30:00.003+01:00

Well, I still haven't managed to sort out the great comments mystery. But in the process of doing it, I discover how many people have tried to comment, and have discovered that their comments were ignored! Of course, I can now assure them that the comments weren't ignored; I haven't mastered the setting well enough, and I didn't know that there were comments. So - if you have ever tried to comment, and wondered why I was ignoring you, please accept my apology. I got this one wrong, and I haven't got it right yet... I am working on it, but don't hold your breath! And don't try to comment....
But saying sorry about this does prompt me to blog on something I have been pretending not to pay attention to for a few months now; apologising, and its impact. I apologised in church for something some time ago. I had made a bad mistake, and it was appropriate to acknowledge that, and say sorry. And so I did.
And I was surprised by the reaction. It was well received -indeed, received as if I had done something very huge and significant.
This is where it gets difficult, and why I have put off blogging about it. You see, it wasn't that huge - but as soon as I say that, it sounds as if I was not taking the issue and my mistake seriously. I did; indeed, I do. But I also believe that among the people of God, where I know myself to be safe, and trust myself to be accepted, surely it is not some sort of huge ordeal to admit that I got it wrong, and ask, trustingly, for forgiveness. After all, we do it every time we gather in public worship. We share in prayers of confession, and acceptance of forgiveness. For me, that is a central and serious part of our gathering.
And if I do it there, why should it be more significant, or more major to ask my fellow believers to know me as God knows me - a sinner, and to forgive me? Of course they did, as I trusted they would. But I remain disturbed that we have created a context in which it somehow seems to be some heroic act to admit a failure and apologise. Surely, it should be the most natural thing among believers; is that not a central part of who we believe we are - those who can risk being honest about who we are, with ourselves and with each other, because we believe that in the love of God, we are known, loved and healed?
So - sorry about the comments muddle. And yes I mean it. And no - I don't feel threatened and/or heroic in apologising. Because even more than in my failing, I believe in God's love and forgiveness. And so I dare to trust myself to yours too.

and an extra bonus post!

2010-08-17T10:06:00.002+01:00

Well - I am learnign so much! Many thanks to the person who has pointed out that I have switched off the comments facility; now I think it is set to moderated comments. If I've got it right, you can now send comments, and then I can allow them to be posted. This is what has been recommended, so that I can avoid spam on the site.
But we'll see.

Thanks - and apologies to those who have tried to comment, and failed. And it just makes me wonder; when I am complaining that nobody is listening - is it because I have switched off my capacity to hear?

2010-08-17T08:48:00.003+01:00

Now, rumour has it that my last blog post provoked a comment - but the comment has not turned up, at least on my computer. But I wait with baited breath! It would be so exciting - a real comment, a real response, a real sense that somebody out there is listening.
It's an odd thing about blogging. I know there are people who read this, because sometimes you tell me. But there is very little in the way of direct feedback. And I know that this is common to many many blogs. I read quite a few, and I very rarely leave comments, so I am certainly not going to complain if others act the same.
But the sense of speaking into empty air remains. And is, I guess, not an uncommon experience for preachers - and for all who pray. After all, as I said to the wonderful young man who preached for us on Sunday evening, people are listening, and you will know that at the end because they will speak helpfully and interestedly to you about it afterwards (at least, they do to me, and I value it greatly) but during the sermon, there can be a sense of "is there anybody out there"? And even more in prayer - is it empty air, heavens of brass, or is there a Person listening, waiting, wanting to hear from us?
And so I keep blogging, trusting and hoping that somebody is reading - and more to the point, wanting to read, finding something interesting in my explorations. And I keep preaching, and depending on the encouragement and challenges that people offer me aftwewards. And I keep praying.....

2010-08-09T11:31:00.002+01:00

On Saturday morning, a group of us met to "Play at Prayer". We spent some time building theme boxes around our chosen theme, and then together, we made a piece which reflected the themes we had brought together. If you are in church in the next couple of weeks, look into the chapel, and you'll see what we made.
It was a good morning. We used all sorts of bits and pieces, had all sorts of thoughts and imaginings and created something very striking. Lots of playing.
But was it prayer?
Yes - I believe it was. At the heart of prayer is living "awarely" in our relationship with God. And a crucial aspect of our our relationship with God is being children of God. And what do children do? Well, among other things, they play! And so, playing is part of praying. We often forget how to play as we grow up. We quite realistically get fixed on doing things, getting life organised and being grown ups. But that can cover up our capacity for doing things just for the fun of it, doing things where the only aim is the doing, not the result.
And, in "playing at prayer" we were rediscovering this capacity - doing something only for the sake of doing it, with no "productive" aim, no intention of achieving a result.
It is not the whole of prayers, certainly. But it is a form of prayer that can set us free from some of our uncertainty about what prayer is, and how we do it. And it can liberate us to have fun and enjoy God as much as God enjoys us. We are hoping to do some other similar events; keep an eye out for them, and come and join us.

2010-08-02T17:00:00.001+01:00

We are in the middle of a process of thinking about the back of the building. As the new development behind us moves from being a building site into being a place where people live, work and shop, so we have become increasingly aware that the face we present to the world outside on that aspect is not all it might be. There is a pretty forbidding brick wall, with a small and easily missed door, and a rather ugly chimney.
And it is fascinating to see the kind of ideas that people are coming up with to make things better; murals, colourful images, even turning the chimney into the down sweep of a Cross. To say nothing of opening things up, making our building on the outside reflect the welcome that we look to offer on the inside. I am eagerly anticipating the decisions that will be taken over the next few months as we move through the decision making process.
Historically, Baptists, and other nonconformist churches have not laid a lot of stress on visual symbols. We don’t have statues, we don’t have much in the way of stained glass on the whole, we have even at some points, resisted having a cross on the wall of our churches. We have placed more emphasis on listening than on looking, and on responding with our minds rather than our senses. We have held on to the unavoidably sense-based practice of eating and drinking at Communion – and in our practice of baptism, Baptists can’t help but get wet, a very sense-based experience. But on the whole, we have rather avoided, even mistrusted that part of being human.
But yet it sneaks in. We are preparing various updated and new leaflets to introduce the church to people, and one we have written is a small guide around the church inside, reflecting on what different pieces of furniture mean, and inviting people to take time to reflect and pray in the presence of these symbols; to see in our pews the practice of being together, and to take a moment to pray for the people with whom their share their lives, for example. The leaflet is not yet ready, but look out for it when it appears. And I wonder if you will be as surprised as I was to realise just how many symbols and meaningful “things” there are to see and interact with in our building. The Cross above the platform, the shape of the reading desk, the communion table, the organ, the windows, the pews – and in the chapel, the prayer board, the violinist and so on. Look around, and see. I wonder if, especially when we are very familiar with the surroundings, we miss some of the invitations open to us to respond to God’s presence and call; we don’t see, hear, smell, sense what is there – because we are familiar, and because we are not familiar, - because we do not expect to respond to God, to discover God meeting us and inviting us through our senses. Next time you are in the church, have a look around, have a walk arou8nd, perhaps even touch some of what is there. And just wait and wonder how God might be meeting you.

2010-07-26T11:55:00.003+01:00

For a quiet month, July is a very busy month for us. We have had our annual picnic in Regent's Park - always a delight! - and our AGM, and yesterday was our Church Anniversary. We welcomed Graham Sparkes, the head of the Faith and Unity Dept of the Baptist Union, as our preacher in the morning. He spoke with us about the importance of roots, and of not being held back by them, but of always being willing to travel on to wherever it is that God is leading us next. During his sermon, he quote a poem of RS Thomas, including a description of God as the one who is always just ahead of us, who has always just left where we are arriving.
It's an image I have come across on various occasions, and it never fails to tease and attract me. For, among other things, it is the reminder that we cannot limit God, or decide where we are going and inform God of it, or even necessarily have a clear notion of where we are going to be next.
As a traveller, I am very anxious! I like to know where I am going and how I am going to get there - or better yet, I don't want to go at all. I want to stay at home, where I know what is going on, and what I am doing. The idea of following the lead of God without knowing, except in the most general terms, where that will take me, is deeply disturbing and unnerving.
And yet, I am deeply moved and encouraged by this vision of God as the one is not only always ahead of us, but just a flicker of an eye out of sight. For it does allow the possibility that God is greater then my ideas and plans, and probably knows a good deal better than I can what is life and life-giving.
Anniversary is a time when we look back in thankfulness and repentance - and ahead with expectation. What are we hoping for, indeed, planning for. There are changes coming, ones we haven't planned and can't control, as the buildings around us change, and we acquire new neighbours and new possibilities. And there will be changes and challenges that we do not know about yet. And in the face of them all, we do have a choice; will we meet what comes, and work in and through it open to what God is doing, and where God is leading us without putting limits on it, or pre-determining what it will be. Or will we be shaped my our (my?) anxiety, and keep everything safe?

2010-07-20T10:08:00.002+01:00

One of the delights of ministry is the variety of activities we get invited to share in. In three days over this weekend I attended two (very different) weddings and the church AGM (as well as regular services). All of the events had their own flavour and impact, but what has remained with me in the days since is what there was in common; the determination to build a life together. For both the couples marrying, this is clearly at the heart of the whole event. But it is also central to the AGM of the church - and indeed to the gatherings for worship. For in these events too there is a commitment to being "with" the people around us, and developing some kind of common life. In our gatherings for worship, we listen together to Scripture, we offer our prayers, we share in singing and in silence. And we do it together - and with the intention/expectation that what we do in our gathering will shape how we live in the other parts of our lives - whether we share these or not.
And in our AGM, we meet, intentionally in the name of Jesus, in the expectation that, listening to each other we will discern the mind of Christ for our community's life and direction. These conversations can be slow and gentle, heated and energetic, life-giving and stimulating - but all of them take place in the context - and commitment - to being together. Even in the moments when we disagree - or even frustrate each other - we know that we belong together.
It is one of the significant things about being church, that we not only talk about being together, but we work out what it means through action, conversation and struggle. Being part of the church is not just about joining in when we fell like it, like each other or agree. Just like marriage, it involves living through good and bad times, easy agreement and disagreement, and finding the fun, joy and respect in it all.
Thank God for the grace that shapes it all.

2010-07-12T17:21:00.003+01:00

I have just had a few days holiday, last week, which explains the lack of blog (anybody notice?) It was a fun time, enjoying a few days with family and being a tourist in London. Part of what we did invovled being around school trips, and what with that and spending time with youngsters enjoying the freedom of school holidays (they start earlier in Scotland) I was remembering those first few days of school holidays and the way the break always started. We always ended each term with a service in the local parish church, and from all the services I went to in that context, the overwhelming memory is of the minister telling us to remember that God never took a holiday. I think his intention was to reassure us that God did not forget us when we were not going to regular weekly assembly, but there was also the message that God did not take holidays and so we should not forget God.
I got hold of that one well enough; taking holidays has never come easily to me. God does not take holidays, told to me with a good intention, has become translated into - if you are not busy you are not pleasing God.
I am writing this on a Monday - yesterday was a good Sunday, and, as usual, a very busy one. Sundays at Bloomsbury are never anything but busy - for all sorts of us. There are meals to get ready, music to prepare, the sound system to get working, people to marshal in and out, tickets to manage, visitors to welcome, youngsters to care for - and that doesn't take into account all the things we didn't plan for, but still need to be done. A surprising number of them on any given Sunday, in case you are wondering.
And I am deeply, deeply grateful for all of the people around this place who do all this stuff, and make it work, and smile and show grace while they do.
And I just wonder if there is any time to breathe, to rest, to take a holiday, even for a few moments.
Because I have come to believe that those who told me that God never takes a holiday were wrong. Look at Genesis 2;2-3. That's a holiday (God looked at all that he had made and saw that it was good - and on the seventh day he reasted from his work)
Yes - there's a lot to be done. Yes - it never actually comes to an end, and there is always more. But might there be a space, just occasionally, to join God in God's own holiday, and enjoy the goodness of the world without having to spend all our time and all our energy in making it work?
And yes - I know I shouldn't preach it if I won't live it.

I will if you will...

2010-06-29T14:52:00.002+01:00

We were off-line for a short while this morning! Most disconcerting - suddenly I realised all the things I do that depend on being in connection with the wider world.
On Sunday, among other things, I was preaching at the United Welsh Chapel, at their united service with the Korean congregation who meet in their building. This entailed the sermon being translated sentence by sentence. To facilitate this, I had sent the script to the assistant pastor, who had trnaslated the whole thing and had it in front of him on the screen of a lap-top. Which ran out of battery power half way through. And so he had to find the cable and get things plugged in and get restarted. While he was doing that, I made some inane comment about there being a sermon illustration in the middle of it all.
Both things together do suggest an illustration. One of those really corny ones, abou needing to be connected into power to function, and something in that about prayer and faith and so on.
And that is true. But it has also got me thinking a bit further about it all. For the connection to the web is going to be effective, it is only because others have already put material out there for me to access. And - and I feel on more secure ground here - to plug into the electricity supply is to be in touch with a whole community. After all, electricity always "existed", but it was only as people learned how to harness and control it, that we can have the access and the use that we have. And nowadays it is only as people support and organise the supply - to say nothing of creating appliances that exploit the electricity, and so on - that the electricity is of any "use" to us; the power is available.
And I guess that's more helpful in thinking about prayer, faith and the life of a follower of Jesus. We do need to "power" of the Spirit's presence in our living. But this is no individualistic perception. Just as the electric power that allows our lives to function is a product of community, so we do not pray alone. We pray in the footsteps of those who have gone before, and leave us hints and teaching about how to approach God, we pray together with those who live in the Spirit, and we pray in the faith that we are part of the whole people of God for all eternity.
And the call remains; prayer, whatever form it takes, and however badly we do it - it matters!

2010-06-22T16:01:00.003+01:00

I had an interesting conversation last week. I was visited by the "Seionr Policy Officer (Social Cohesion) for Camden Council. He is relatively new to the post, and is visiting folk in the faith communities around the borough. We had a fascinating conversation, and made some interesting plans. We will hear more in the next few weeks about plans to get people interested in caring for our community together to meet each other and learn together - and perhaps even get ourselves organised. I enjoyed the discussion, and I am looking forward to seeing what happens next.
But it has also started me wondering. What is "social cohesion" and is it something we have anything to contribute to the seeking for it?
I understand the need for finding ways to live together, especially in a complex and large city like ours. I know that we need to get to know each other, so that we can understand and "interpret" our differences and own our similarities. I know that - as members of the majority community - we have the responsibility to lower our drawbridges so that others are welcome.
All of that seems to me to be self-evident and Kingdom based.
But what else is going on in the idea of social cohesion.
The Home Office definition is this;
A community in which

there is a common vision and a sense of belonging for all communities;
the diversity of people’s different backgrounds and circumstances are appreciated
and positively valued;
those from different backgrounds have similar life opportunities;
strong and positive relationships are being developed between people from
different backgrounds in the workplace, in schools and within neighbourhoods

I wonder what, in our life together, will help to strengthen this - and what, in the ways we normally live, might undermine this? And I wonder how we might sustain a distinctive Christian voice, with due humility and integrity? I don't have any answers yet - but I hope, as the meetings develop and as we begin to explore things we can do together, I might begin to find my way towards some.

2010-06-15T16:45:00.002+01:00

This weekend we hosted the London Baptist Association AGM and seminars on Saturday. On Sunday, there was also a celebration service, involving the commissioning of new district ministers, and thanksgiving for our regional minister, Pat Took, who retires from that role in the autumn.
I was able to go to the AGM, and it was a good experience. Things are hard in the LBA, as in so many organisations at the moment. The work is growing, and the resources do not always keep up. And so there needs to be a significant change in the way things are organised. The full pattern is not yet clear, but one of the changes that will affect us most is the reorganisation of the subdivisions of the LBA. At the moment, the LBA is divided into districts which work on a sort of spoke pattern. This means we are part of the Northwestern district - a very friendly and welcoming community reaching from the centre out to Harrow. But there is now a change coming. There is going to be a "central" district - a kind of hub for the spokes, I guess (is that metaphor working?) And, we are as central as they come.
So, in due course, we will be trasnferring our immediate relationships with other Baptists from the northwestern district to the new central district.
And for most of us, to be honest, this will make little or no practical difference.
And I believe that that is pity. Because the other thing that became clear at the AGM, and the attendant seminars is just how exciting and creative Baptist life is in various parts of London , and how much we miss out on by not being involved and being connected to what is going on.
There are churches of all sizes, shapes and types; churches caring for refugees, churches opening up their buildings to welcome children before and after school, churches in which congregations show an even richer mix of home nations than our own, churches meeting in all sorts of venues, and meeting all sorts of needs, churches with the energy to go out late at night and offer friendship and protection to people struggling to get home after a late night, and churches offering on-going and deep support to people in all sorts of crises and long-term difficulty. Churches, in other words, just like us. And getting to know them, sharing stories, resources and encouragement could only be blessing for us all.

2010-06-08T07:52:00.003+01:00

The intention of this blog is, among other things, to take events that happen through the week, and ask what sort of theological, pastoral or perhaps just amusing (sometimes) insights, might be gleaned. If I am to reflect on what dominates the life here this week - it is the drills!!! Just outside my study window, two very large drills are breaking up the concrete that has formed the foundations of the portacabins that have been there for the last nearly four years.
And they are noisy.
And they make the floor shake.
And despite well-meaning suggestions that I might work somewhere else - preferably in another building! - it's not that easy. I have all my books here, and various other resources I need for bits of work (not least the computer!), and not knowing that this onslaught was going to last so long (three weeks so far, and counting...) I have made various appointments that will be complex to change. So, I am making the best of it, and trying to live with it rather than against it.
And - being a pious sort of thinker - it occurred to me as I battled with it this morning, that the effect of the drills on my mind, heart and sense of well-being is close to the effect that we sometimes experience in relationships. There are those on whom I know that I have the same effect as these drills - I irritate, and annoy, and get in the way. (And it may even be that there are some people who have that affect on me!)
But the drills outside my windows are there for a purpose, and are to make the street better. They are breaking up the hard concrete, and opening up a space that has been closed and shut off for too long. Once they finish, there will be space and beauty and a place for people to live and move and have their being.
Could it be that in being a "drill" for some people, I am offering the same possibility? Could it be that those people who "drill" at me are actually breaking up the hard dead places in my life and heart, and opening up my capacity to love and live and respond? Might it be that one of the reasons Jesus calls his followers into community, without, apparently paying attention to whether we like one another, is that we all have these concreted over paths, and we need not just the gentle brushing of a broom, or the affirmation and comfort of people we agree with and who like us - but also the drill, the breaking up, the discomfort - and even the overwhelming domination of our thinking and feeling - of the "drills" to open our lives to grace and hope.
I hope so!
In the meantime, I am investing in a large pair of earplugs..... and if I look a little harrassed in the next few days, it's all this noise!

2010-06-01T10:25:00.002+01:00

I was just glad there was somebody else who thought it was funny. As part of the new construction at the back of our building, there is a great deal of drilling going on at the moment. Noisy drilling. Indeed, very noisy drilling! And there I was, sitting reading one of the great doctors of the church on the importance of silence in the nourishment of our life of faith, and relaitonship with God. Sitting there, trying to read, rather, since the noise of the drills actually made it impossible. (Especially, in order to enhance our concert on the coming Saturday, a skilled technician was in tuning the organ) Silence was definitely not my experience that day - nor, if I am honest, most days sitting the in study here in the church.
I found the argument of the early theologian compelling however; St Ambrose wrote
For there is but one true teacher, the only one who never learned what he taught everyone. But people have first to learn what they are to teach, and receive from him what they are to give to others. Now what ought we to learn before everuything else, but to be silent that we may be able to speak?....it is seldom that anyone is silent, even when speaking does him no good....This is why Scripture is right to say "A wise man will keep silence until the right moment."
There is an important place for silence in being with God; taking time, as we say in the introduction to Waiting Prayer each Tuesday afternoon, to pay attention to God paying attention to us. It is all too easy to lose sight of this need, or to reduce it to a luxury to be laid aside in the face of more pressing need of things that must be done. But in silence - our silence from speech, but also the silence of at least not seeking noise - radios, music, all the toher possibilties of filling the silence - in silence, there is the possibility of hearing from deep within us that still small voice of love and transformation.
But of course, if our life in God can only survive in silence, separated from the demands of interaction with people, undertaking life in the midst of other lives - and even alongside the drills, traffic and all the other sounds of the city, then it is no life in God but simply fantasy. However, it is also true that a life in God that has no hidden place, no stillness and quietness that allows hidden things to grow can also become a fantasy. Finding that balance is never easy - and surrounded by drills it is particularly hard. But as a congregation, one of the things we can offer each other is the encouragement to look both for quiet places, and for those places of engagement - all of which are God's appointed meeting moment.

2010-05-26T09:44:00.003+01:00

Pentecost last Sunday, and at both services we invited people to put coloured stickers on a map to show where they come from. It makes a very colourful display. We have also put a map up in the foyer with strings showing various projects and areas around the world where we have interest and are involved. It is great to have such a visible representation of the breadth of our homelands and involvements. It is one of the glories about having a building in the centre of London - we all come to it from such different places. And so, as a congregation, we are varied and bring all sorts of backgrounds, contexts and insights. We enjoy - and we look for ways to celebrate - our international life and the richness it brings us.
But it also raises a question for us about the locality within which our building is placed, and the people among whom those of us based in London actually live. When Will, the latest of our wonderful American interns left, we asked him to write some reflections on what he had heard and seem among us. I want to quote one paragrpah from his helpful paper;
The second group [he has spent some time reflecting on our work with the various people who come in during the week] I regularly heard mentioned, but may not be as overtly catered to was that of local British or London folks. I realize I got my fair share of Bristish-is-best and Americans-caint-talk-righ jokes because I was from America, but over time, and not just from one person, I heard the musings over where the Bristish people were, especially (but not exclusively!) in the younger demographic. Maybe I misread this desire to serve your own in addition to those who are not from Britain, but if I did not, then I do not think this is an awful thing to hope for. As long as you continue to willingly welcome American interns, female Slovakian ministers, African refugees and Australian nomads, then I think it would be completely appropriate to acknowledge a desire to intentionally seek out the local unchurched Brits and welcome them into your family. I am certain they are there; it is a matter of whether or not you want to actively look for them.
And so we have a challenge, I believe. Do we go on depending on people seeking us out - finding us in all sorts of ways, and thank God people do. Or do we wonder together about how to reach the people who are around, and who don't even see the building. Somebody who came in for an audition last week said "I have walked down this road for years, and I never knew this was here". And that is not an uncommon comment. It's not just about posters - we are good at those. It's not only about the website, though that is great. As was pointed out at the last church meeting, the way people come to church - especially if being in church is not something that they have taken for granted in the past - is because somebody brings them.
Do we?
Can we?
What might happpen?

2010-05-18T14:51:00.003+01:00

She had just come in to drop off a poster, and we got into conversation. She was asking about the services, and commented (although I had not asked about it) that she didn't go to church, but that that didn't mean she didn't believe. We didn't get much further with the reflection of just what it was she believed in - she was more interested in commenting that she was fascinated by the numbers that come to our morning service. But as I thought about it later, I found myself wondering whether I would "believe" as I do without being part of church - and then realised that what I was actually thinking was that I believe in church. That I believe church is a worthwhile project, something it matters to be part of, and something that God is involved with. It might sound obvious, but I don't believe it is; there are many who "believe" as followers of Jesus, who don't "believe" in church; who have been hurt, frustrated, bored, or otherwise disengaged from the visible church, and no longer "believe" in it, no longer see the point of being part of it and undertaking any part in the institution.
And I knows those feelings. And I am certainly not convinced that we are none of the things that people reject; we can be boring, irrelevant, hurtful, cliquey, judgemental and holier than thou. I think we can also be welcoming, grace-full, connected, open and offering goodness. And it matters that we are aware of who we are, and the impact we have on people; do we make it easy for people to come in and feel at home with us; are we still making connections for people - scratching where it itches; are we so caught up with what we think matters that we miss what others care about?
But I believe church is more than being "relevant" or "engaged" - it is that, but it is more than that. It is also to the place where we learn to live together. The place where we develop relationships, sometimes over many years, with people who annoy us, who frustrate us, whose words and outlook leave us gasping - and those on whom we have that effect. It is the place, the community, the context in which we are constantly faced with - and challenged by - the sheer otherness of each other. If churches were all places of harmony and delight - where indeed, evernybody thought as I did and acted as I want them to - then so much of what I "believe" and attempt to practice as a follower of Jesus would have no context for growth or discovery. And so, I believe in the church - not as something perfect, nor as a prerequisite for salvation, and not even primarily as an instrument for mission, in whatever form. I "believe" in church as athe place and context in which the words I speak of following, and the commitments I make to it take on flesh and blood - where I actually have to work it out. And at its best, it is the training ground for how to do it elswhere and elsehow in the whole world.
So, thank you God, for calling me to be part of the church - especially when it is a hard place to be.

2010-05-13T07:43:00.002+01:00

Ihave been drawn back to my childhood recently - somebody was singing a song my Grandpa used to sing me; "I'm a Purple People Eater". It has reappeared on Youtube because of the wearing of purple as a sign of identifying with the campaign for electoral reform. Purple is the chosen colour based on what the suffragettes used 100 years ago.
The wearing of a certain colour to identify with a certain cause has been around for a long time, and is gaining in popularity recently. At the Baptist Assembly at the beginning of the month, support was given for the campaigmn Thursdays in Black; wearing black - and an explanatory badge - in solidarity with those suffering from rape and violence, and in particular, taking a stand agains the exploitation of people trafficking. If you would like to know more about the campaign, see the latest edition of Just Living, available at church (and soon on the website).
Of course, wearing a purple tie or hair ribbon, or even wearing a black suit with a badge won't change the world. Not on their own. But they are symbols, signs of commitment and identify us as being involved in wanting to change things.
Symbols are strange thigns. They are not ineffective as we tend to assume in our rationalist, "sensible" world. They have a power of their own. But their effectiveness works itself out in lives, actions and attitudes that emerge from accepting the meaning of the symbol and letting it shape us. Much of what we do together as Christians in worship is "symbolic" - with water, with bread and wine. They are powerful symbols and can move us very deeply. But they also call us, almost require us to become a way of life, if their effectiveness is to be effective.... baptism is just splashing water and indulging in private vainglory if it is not allowed to take shape in our living as discipleship and obedience. Communion is just a momentary tickle on the taste buds if it doesn't work itself out in our exploration of living together, living generously, living with open hands.
When we let our symbols take on their own life within us, they can transform who we are, and can be part of the coming of the Kingdom.
Though what wardrobe choices I need to make it I want to campaign for electoral reform on a Thursday remains as yet a mystery.....

2010-05-05T11:22:00.002+01:00

This last weekend so about 1500 baptist gather in Plymouth for our annual assembly of the Baptist Union of Great Britain. And, as I have been privileged to do for many years now, I was able to go. Highlights of this event for me are always the chances to meet with friends I see nowhere else - planned and unplanned meetings, rushed and leisurely ones, glad and sad ones as we exchange news.
There is a perception, I know, here at Bloomsbury, that Assembly is something to be endured, something where, coing from our kind of context, we will not feel at home, something where we have much to give that is not received, and little to learn.
All I know is that it doesn't feel like that to me. I enjoy the opportunities to hear about what is going on in all sorts of situations at home and overseas - to discover the creativity, faithfulness and original thinking that is going on; to hear stories about people's service, the challenges faced in such a wide variety of contexts, the pains and joys of being part of those who work at what it means to follow Jesus in integrity and devotion.
No - of course I don't agree with all that everybody says to me. But then, not everybody agrees with me - and it is just possible that perhpas I am wrong, and it is helpful to be confronted with other ways of thinking.
No - of course I don't feel at home with all the worship style - though, since this year, the majority of worship I attended was shaped by the traditions of Taize, of the Northumbria Community and traditional hymns sung to accompainment of a beautiful piano, I think I was more at home in worship than some others.
No - not all the main speakers speak to me. But it's very boring, not to say arrogant, to assmue that only my way of loking at things, my understanding of Scripture, my perception of the call of God is authentic.
I have come away with several reflections.
That being together, and finding common ground matters - and one of the important aspects of that is being able to disagree and still be together.
That God and the people of God are doing amazing things - that people serve in all sorts of joyful and painful situations, and it is significant to be able to celebrate them.
That I am glad I have so many friends and the opportunity to meet them.
That Bloomsbury is a very special church - and that we are not as special as we think we are. Much of what we value - rightly - about ourselves, is not possessed by us only; others do what we do, and sometimes, do it even more, even better, even more Christlikely - and so meeting others, hearing their stories, discovering what is going on, and being challenged by it matters. We are not alone and isolated, we are not the only ones who are doing what we do, we are not the only faithful people in the world. And knowing the rest of our family can only help us know ourselves and our calling better. So, maybe next year, somebody else will come with me?

2010-04-27T08:51:00.003+01:00

This week we are having new carpet laid in the foyer, thanks to the Central St Giles people; part of their ethos is to undertake community projects. Last year, the school Seyan was governor of was repainted; this year, our foyer is getting redecorated. And it will look good. The walls are already repainted, and look fresh and clean. And by the middle of this week, there will be a new carpet as well. Joy!
Carpet is one of the things that makes Baptist churches different from some others. Forget baptism, music and appraoches to preaching. carpet - and particularly carpet in the church itself is one of our distinctives.
This is partly because many of our buildings are newer than parish churches - both Anglican and Roman Catholic - and newer buildings in those traditions will also sometimes have carpet. And of course by no means all Baptist churches have carpet. But look around. You'll see that we do often, and that it is one of our particular features.
Why do we do this? My theory is that we have the deep-seated intention that our church is a home, not a place visited for short periods, or a place of function and business, nor a museum. It is a place where we come in, take of our coats, and settle down with our family to share some of the things that are deepest for us.
We had a service recently in which we reflected on the various symbols around our building; the bread and wine, the baptistry, the peace candle, the weapons man, the flowers and so on. I forgot about the carpet. But it is there, and it does say something important about who we think we are, and what we intend to do when we meet together in worship. We are at home. We are the people of God, the family of God. We can be comfortable, we can relax because we are accepted and welcomed. We don't need to put on special airs or hide parts of ourselves. That old definition; home is the place where they know you thoroughly and still love you - not always true for all of us. But please God, it is a truth we try to live out as a church in our building. And as we enjoy our carpet!

2010-04-19T14:19:00.002+01:00

Well now, it's been an interesting couple of days. Off I go on Wednesday, all innocent like, to a Board meeting at IBTS (if you don't know this wonderful institution, see here http://www.ibts.eu/ ), and within hours of arriving the airports were closed, and life began to look a little more demanding that I had planned for! Only one of our Board could not get to the meeting, coming, as he did, from Norway, but it became increasingly clear that my flight home on Sunday was just not going to happen. Like so many many people around the world, I was miles from home with no idea what to do next. However, unlike so many, I was fortunate to be in a place where there were all sorts of folk with skill and determination to get me home. I was booked on one of the emergency buses - got the last seat - and, although it's not a journey I would like to do too often, I was home only 24 hours after I had originally planned.
While it was deeply comforting that there were people there to do what needed to be done, and who knew how the systems worked, what was more comforting was that I was among friends and those who feel like family; I was in another part of our Baptist world, and so, even away fom home, at home.
One of my friends once commented that she regretted the decision of the second Vatican Council, when the Roman Catholic Church decided to conduct the mass in the language of the country, rather than Latin. Until then, she told me, she had been able to go to church in any country and feel at home, because it was the same. Well, this experience has been rather different from that, but that sense of being among my own people even far away has been deeply reassuring, and made it possible to keep on with what I was there to do, instead of getting paralysed by anxiety.
I have heard people talk about how important our capacity to welcome is, at Bloomsbury; the importance we place on welcoming people in, especially those who come from overseas. We put effort into it, and we take it seriously. Helping people feel at home, giving them a sense of belonging when they feel dislocated, enjoying people's company. Let's never forget just how much fun that can be, as well as how helpful it can be.
The language about the Christian family can sometimes feel over-used and a little ciched. But I have been grateful this week to have discovered it in a new way - and to have been able to come home as a result. I pray that we as a congregation will go on discovering more and more of how to make these phrases real - to bless those who come to visit our city, and to dicover the blessing of new friends.

2010-04-13T09:59:00.002+01:00

We have a new webgroup - a wonderful and enthusiastic group of people who are going to be taking responsibility not only keeping the website details up to date, but also developing the site itself further, and exploring more of what we can do with it. If you are a regular visitor to our site, keep an eye out for their creativity and new ideas. When we launched the site in its present form - about 3 years ago, - it was state of the art, new and fizzy and all the things a website is supposed to be.
But things change very fast in cyberspace, and without our changing, we have become rather staid and dull, because everything around us has changed very fast. We are fortunate to have people among us who can help us rethink and keep up.
But it is a little disconcerting. Just at what point did we move from being bright and new to being dull, staid and old-fashioned. Did it just happen overnight - or was there a Monday when we were fine, and the following Monday we were out of date?
And does it matter?
Well, yes, of course it does! It is important that we stay in touch and find all the ways we can to communicate - and if we are going to use a medium such as the web, then we need to use it in the best way that we can. Doing the best we can is an important part of our presence - our witness - in the world. Churches have long had a reputation for doing things in an amateurish way, sometimes even in a cheap way. And in a world where appearance matters - and where "professional" appearance is relatively easy to achieve - that does us, and more to the point, the news of the gospel, no good at all. Why should people pay attention to what we believe we have to say about how life is and could be, about what it is to be human in a world created by a God who loves us and identifies with us as far as the Cross - and calls us into a new world marked by Resurrection, about justice and peace and all the other richness of life that we believe we can speak about, if our way of speaking is slap-dash, or out of date, or apparently something we have not taken seriously.
So, it is right that we do the best we can, be as "professional" as we can, in order to be as effective as we can.
And yet......
The temptation to be captured by a culture that judges us entirely by appearance, that assesses worth only on the basis of achievement, that gives value only to that which fits the dominant scheme is surely one we should be aware of, and resist. Here is the challenge of being in the world but not of it; how do we communicate, live in and function in a world where the values that dominate are not all ones that accord with our gospel story, without getting lost in those values and assumptions, and letting them shape and distort us. Answers on a postcard please - or perhaps, using the new media, leave a comment!

Easter

2010-04-04T17:11:00.002+01:00

Christ is risen! Alleluia

It is our life, our word, our hope, our faith.

The Lord is risen; he is risen indeed.

2010-03-29T11:19:00.002+01:00

Yesterday, Palm Sunday, we joined with folks from St George's Bloomsbury and St Anselm's and St Cecilia's in Lincoln's Inn Fields to walk between the churches. In each church we read part of the Plam Sunday story, offered prayer together and sang a hymn. As we walked between the churches, we carried a variety of palms - some real, and several created out of painted card and bamboo (Thanks to folk who made them for our morning service. I know they were not meant for outside, but they just about survived!), and some of us carried Palm crosses. we got pretty well spread out, as we wandered through the crowds on the streets, talking to people we knew from our own or from the other congregations - and, in the case of those of us who were supposedly responsible for organising the whole thing, trying to ensure that nobody got lost. We came to the conclusion that while not as noisy as the original parade, it was probably just about as well organised, and coherent; or as disorganised and incoherent. And that was just fine! We mingled with people. Some of them looked very oddly at us carrying our rather strange assortment of palms. One person even asked for one of the palm crosses, saying he had not managed to get to church that morning. Gladly, the cross was handed over. Some folk joined us and some folk left us. And through it all we told a story, and met with one another and with God in our worship and our prayer. It was a good afternoon, significant in building links between our congregations, and hepful in reiterating the conviction that the story of Jesus has its place within and among the life of a busy city.
And it leaves me with some questions.
Perhaps we should have done our reading and prayers on the steps of our various churches - each of our buildings has a significant area where we could stand. Perhaps we might have made our identity clearer - a more coherent parade, leaflets to hand out, or placards to carry. Perhaps we might have sung our hymns as we walked, not only within our buildings. All of these are important questions to ask ourselves, not just on Palm Sunday, but at any point in the year. Our commitment to living the gospel is well focussed in what we do - but perhaps we need to redicover the words and the symbols that will allow us also to speak of what our good news is. We are rightly wary of anything that looks triumphalistic, or hectoring. We do not want to "thrust our faith down anybody's throat". But we do have a story of God's activity to tell, to offer. How might we find the words and symbols through which we can communicate it?

2010-03-23T11:10:00.002Z

On last Sunday afternoon, a group of us met to plan the worship for Easter Sunday evening. Although we were a smaller group than has sometimes met in the past to plan services, it was as a creative as ever. There is a particular energy about a group of people thinking about how a group of people might be enabled to worship together. All sorts of creative ideas come up, and things that, individually, one of us might think are too hard to work through, or too unconventional to be effectively practised, turn out, when we think about them together, to have all sorts of possibilities.
We have been fortunate over the last months to have had all sorts of people leading worship and preaching - and, over the last few weeks, to have had groups plan and lead the services. It has been so good for us that even as we return to a more normal pattern of ministerial presence, we are intending to try and keep up the pattern. At least once a month, we hope that various groups will be able to lead the evening service - and perhaps even the occasional morning service.
It is not just about the energy of a group leading a group; it is important for how we think about the church. One of our defining features as a Baptist church is that we do not have a clerical "caste"; that ministry belongs to all of us, and each of us has a role to play in the coming together of the congregation with Christ in the midst. It is helpful, and effective that people with recognised gifts and given space and time by the church to do the planning, take seriously those responsibilities. But to leave it all to those folk is both to impoverish the worship of the congregation and to deny the gifts of all of us.
So - it is not just that I want to do less. It is a delight to experience the leading of others, and to hear new voices, and discover new insights. Thank you to all who share in the work - and come and join us if you haven't shared before.

2010-03-15T11:36:00.002Z

One of our members came into the room I was sitting in yesterday morning, and let out a great sigh. I laughed - the sigh seemed to express just what I was feeling at that moment, rather harrassed, not at all sure what was going on, finding it hard to feel relaxed, and a bit frustrated.
Then he said to me "why did you laugh" - and I realised that this was not a sigh of sympathy, but of pain and struggle on his part. And I had missed it! I had been so wrapped up in what I was feeling and wanting, that I didn't notice that he was in pain and that the sigh was very real.
He is a gracious man, and accepted my apology for my clumsy behaviour. And we spoke about his pain, and my frustration, and it was fine.
But it stays with me.
It is not easy to be in the church, it is not easy to be the church. We come together from all sorts of circumstances, both immediate and reaching far back into our lives. We come for all sorts of reasons, and bring all sorts of expectations. When we actually meet - and in the reality of the context of Bloomsbury that meeting may be infrequent, hurried or erratic - we are not immediately in tune with one another, we often have different agendas and plans.
It is not difficult for misunderstandings to arise. It is not infrequent for me to be so caught up in what is going on in my immediate experience that I miss what is happening in others' - or indeed, ignore the fact that their immediacy is different. The wonder, the grace is, that, on the whole, it's OK. We do in fact hear each other, meet each other and share in the fun and the frustration of being alive, and following Jesus.
But sometimes we miss. And then we need to re-engage, to listen more carefully and to to pay attention.
It takes an effort of will, but it is also one of the ways of God among us; this mystery that God works in our working, and transforms us through what we choose to let happen. I have been rereading The Go-Between God, John Taylor's wonderful exploration of how we can talk about the Spirit of God - and his powerful vision of the Spirit as the One who makes links, who connects us to creation, to each other, to the Mystery of God. We are not, on the whole, a church who speaks often of the work of the Spirit. And in that, I believe we follow the witness of the Spirit. The Spirit works not by drawing attention, but by pointing to God present in Jesus, and the life of the Kingdom. But here is, I suggest, one of the actions of the Spirit among us - that often enough, creatively enough, with hope and joy, we do connect with each other, we do build relationships, we do hear each other, we do share - despite all that might stop it happening.
For this grace, thanks be to God.

on prayer, rhythm and (not getting around to) blogging

2010-03-08T08:15:00.003Z

With apologies to those of you (are there any?) who read this blog regularly, I confess there has been a longer than there was supposed to be hiatus in writing. I had had a regular point in the week at which I sat down and dragged up words of wisdom, insight, wit and creativity - or at least found something to say that I thought might be interesting.
In recent weeks, my routine has changed -all for good reason, and I am glad about it. I don't like routine, and it usually falls apart on me sooner or later. But it has meant that the regular sitting down to write the blog somehow got lost. It wasn't that I didn't think about the blog - and even come up with some ideas of topics I wanted to reflect on. It was just that - somehow - I never quite got round to actually doing it.
When I was a little girl I was pretty resistant to too much routine and ordering, and particularly to beign told what I had to do when. We grew up using Bible reading notes that were dated - and I always had trouble with them. I was always behind hand (except on the days when the reading was so short, and I ended up reading ahead, and got myself completely confused), and behind hand was enough, in the end, often to provoke me to give up. I was greatly liberated as I got older and discovered that it was permissible to encounter God at any time - to pray at all times and in all places, and prayer became not something I did at one set point in the day, but part of my whole living.
But then I began to realise that doing this anytime could all too often lead to never quite getting round to it. And so finding regular times for prayer - together with others or on my own - became important again; not the only time of prayer of course, but a (relatively) regular rhythm which forms a helpful discipline - and enriches the rest of prayer and life.
I guess I forgot it with the blog. Doing it any time turned into doing it never. Irritating with the blog (and apologies to those I have irritated). With prayer however, a much more profound and damaging effect. That is why I remain committed to finding ways we can pray together - even when routine seems less spiritual and authentic than spontaneity. And (and I did manage to do this even with the changes in rhythm) keeping the prayer pages of the website updated. I am grateful to those who have a much more ordered outlook on life and are able to encourage me in and sustain me through a good rhythm of life in God. The interweaving of rhythm and spontaneity is the in and out breathing of life. I will try not to get breathless or hold my breath too long again!

On how to deal with St Valentine

2010-02-17T11:09:00.002Z

It was one of those teaser moments in a news programme; "in a few moments, we will be telling you about why the combination of Sunday and Valentine's day is a disaster for florists." I didn't hear the rest of the item, having to dash somewhere else, but it remained with me as a comment to ponder. I'm not sure why it should matter so much to florists (perhaps somebody can enlighten me) - but it is not always easy for those of us leading worship. And it is my proud boast that this year we didn't mention St Valentine at all on Sunday. The emphasis on romantic love, on coupledom, on spending money, on overpriced flowers and fancy cards has little to do with St Valentine - now no longer named as an "official" saint. But there is a memory of St Valentine - or rather of two Valentines who, in different places, were faithful believers, served as bishops and who were martyred for their faith.
Now there is a story to tell and retell when we meet to worship; the memories of those who have preceded us in faith, who have passed on the faith, who were determined enough to live in integrity even at the cost of their lives. It is not easy being a follower of Jesus - but in some places it is harder than others, and remembering, retelling that story matters.
And it matters because it is not a story only in past. It is still happening today.
Here is just one example, communicated by Forum 18, an organisation concerned with tracking issues of religious freedom around the world.

"Kazakhstan has fined Zhanna-Tereza Raudovich 100 times the minimum monthly wage for hosting a Sunday morning worship service in her home, attended by local Baptist women and their children, Forum 18 News Service has learned.
Police who raided Raudovich's home drew up an official record that "they had discovered an illegally functioning religious community", local Baptists complained to Forum 18. An appeal is due to be heard on 11 February. It remains unclear how Raudovich could pay the fine, as she has six children and does not have paid work. She has been warned that she will face criminal charges if she does not pay the fine. Meanwhile, Kazakh police have told Forum 18 that Kazakh-born Baptist Dmitry Leven will be deported for "illegal missionary activity" unless an appeal to Kazakhstan's Supreme Court against his conviction is successful. As the Supreme Court has refused to even consider an appeal, it is unclear what will happen to Leven. "I just want to be able to remain here," Leven told Forum 18. "I don't want to go anywhere else."
If you want to follow up, or learn more about what Forum 18 does and says, follow this link

http://www.forum18.org/

I am glad that we didn't mention Valentine's Day on Sunday. But I think we needed to - and need to go on - talking about the martyrs, then and now. We are all part of the Body of Christ, and we owe each other our care.

Crossing places

2010-01-14T08:36:00.002Z

Two glimpses yesterday
- the monthly ministers' breakfast; one of the Jesuits who regularly attends turned to our resident Calvinist (theologically and denominationally) and asked "Is there anything our congregation can do to support the rebuilding of your new church - perhpas take up an offering? Quickly followed by our Anglican member commenting "Things have moved a bit in 400 years" (since the Reformation)

- a call to the minister's office from the front desk; a parcel has arrived to be signed for, but we don't recognise the name on the address lable. Over-anxious minister responds immediately with the thought that a strange parcel in the centre of London is not to be taken lightly, and dashes to the door - to discover that the name on the label is of one of our members from overseas, the spelling of whose name does not appear to match the way that we attempt to say it, and the receptionist, also first language is also not English, quite understandably did not recognise it. And the parcel was part of our Kingdom identity.

As part of a wider Baptist theme this year, we are taking Crossing Places as a theme for Tuesday lunches in Lent. And the glimpses are why. We find crossing places all the time; crossing of theologies and church traditions, crossing of cultures and languages, crossing - at least in the minister's mind - of fear and faith, crossing of Kingdom and injustice.
And at the centre of it all, the Cross; God's word of love, forgiveness, hope and life, crossing out the sin, violence and death that mars our world.
Thank God that the Cross works out in so many ways, so many contexts, so many unexpected places.

2010-01-07T17:23:00.002Z

Well, that was Christmas, that was! Today, we have taken down - well, nearly - the decorations (some remain, waiting for a ladder, up which I will not go!) Next Sunday we will not be singing carols, and then it's all over.
It was a good celebration. Our carol concert was relaxed, happy and welcoming, with some wonderful music. Our nativity scene at the morning service which involved shepherds, angels and a butterfly was wonderful, and the young people's nativity presentation in the evening was, as always, a triumph of faith over planning, and demonstrated the ongoing reality of the miracle of meeting to worship. Then carols on the doorstep on Christmas eve - cold, but fun and well received. A midnight service with several visitors, and a Christmas morning service with several other visitors. And the Sunday after Christmas, when with the Sunday Club, we followed the magis' journey, complete with stars, gifts, cradle and leaving by a different route.
As always, all sorts of mixed feelings, wonderful music, old friends and new friends, and an overwhelming number of cards.
And this week we go back to "normal" - whatever that is.
And that is the point. If all that we have been celebrating and enjoying, the whole story we have been telling and the songs we have been singing - if it is true, then normal is stranger than we realised. And so our living in it, and our living with it, making sense of it will always be provisional, uncertain, exciting and open to change.
One of the songs we sang several times (I lost track of my carol choosing I am afraid; I usually try to avoid repetition) included the lines "Who would think that what was needed to redeem and save the earth might not be a plan or army, proud in purpose, proved in worth". The more often I sang it, the more often that middle section stood out - who would think that what was needed...might not be a plan?
I am not noted for my capacity to plan, but this line has haunted me over the last weeks. Perhaps part of the call this year is not only not to get tied to a rigid plan - but not to worry about that. Instead, to enjoy it, to know that God is at work in the places we haven't thought of, and certainly wouldn't have planned, and what we are invited to do is join in.
I am setting this phrase as my screen saver this year. Perhaps it will free me from the feeling that I ought at least to try and plan!

Discovering that theology is true!

2009-12-09T07:58:00.004Z

I have been learning a lot about the Body of Christ over the last few weeks. We have had some conflicts and issues going on recently that I have found hard to handle. But, my delight has been to find that others have not had the same difficulties - and more than that, they have been willing and able to do that which I have found myself unable to do.
It was hard to accept at first. That sense of needing to be able to do everything, that somehow it is inappropriate to depend on others, that other people are busy and shouldn't be asked to do more - even that my level of distress was daft, since other people were not so upset...all of that rather got in the way. But we are nothing if not a determined congregation, and people have just taken over and done what needs to be done.
And gradually, painfully, I have come to realise that this is part of what the Body of Christ means - that no one of us is able, or needs to be able, to do it all. And that different gifts is precisely what it says - there are things I can do that others can't and things others can do that I can't, and that is as it should be. To accept that may be a blow to the pride that holds on to a sense of omnicompetence and indispensability. But it is also a great relief, and a source of profound joy.
So, here, I want to say thank you to those with whom I share being this church - and to thank God for the gift of each other.

2009-11-24T08:56:00.003Z

We had lots of young children at church on Sunday, and some there for special events. We had the chance to welcome the grandson of one of our familes, who was visiting this country for the first time. Much delight for people in seeing him, and there were lots of people making a fuss of him and affirming his place as part of our family, even if normally living at a distance.
And we also had the dedication service for two sisters, part of a family who have been worshipping with us for about 18 months now. This was a particular delight in its own way because, though both girls here well, both parents are deaf. They have committed themselves to being part of our fellowship, and work hard at interacting with the congregation, though lip-reading, reading prints of sermons, and concentrating very hard.
But we needed to do something different this week, and so we had a sign interpreter, not just for the dedication itself, but for the whole service. It was a fascinating experience. I have worked with those who have been translating my words into another spoken language, which is always a challenge. But this was a whole new thing. Partly because our interpreter didn't need to wait for me to finish a phrase or sentence before translating, but worked concurrently with me (though she did comment that I spoke rather fast!!).
But what struck me most was the beauty of the language that was used. I have always been very aware of the beauty of words; language has the power to move me at a very deep level (any of you who heard me read Caedmon's hymn in the service a couple of weeks ago would have seen that). But it was wonderful to discover a new aspect of beauty in movement, grace and particularly watching all three (the translator and the parents) signing the hymns in unison.
Dedications are always wonderful occasions - but the added grace and involvement on Sunday morning means that this is one that will hold a special place in my mind.
And it leaves a question. How can we develop our inclusiveness, and take further our capacity to communicate across the various barriers that are among us? An ongoing project, but one I hope we continue to adventure in.

Visiting and fidning life

2009-11-17T07:44:00.000Z

When I was about 15 I started to visit an ancient man from our church who as it turned out, was a major formative influence in my life. But you never know these things when they are happening. You only discover that they’ve happened much much later (sometimes too late). They were no pastoral visits at that time. I only went because he was very interesting and his stories kept me listening for hours. He was a friend of my grandparents and that’s how I learned many stories from my grandparents’ lives and how things used to be when they were children and teenagers. He died some years ago but I can hardly forget him. I think I found him such a good friend in spite of the age gap mainly for 3 reasons. Again – these were hardly formulated in my head then. They are only emerging years later as I remember our chats. So – 1) he wasn’t complaining about his ailments all the time; 2) he wasn’t criticising the ‘young generation’ or all that’s wrong with the world today for that matter; 3) and he had no excessive need to give unsolicited advice. Somehow this lead me to the opinion that age does not matter when people reach a certain level of mutual understanding.
Now I’m finding myself in a different century/millennium, a different country, almost a different lifetime and visiting older people is part of the pastoral role I’m involved in. Yet, at times I find that these images from the past come back to me through other people. For instance, a few days ago I went to see an old man from our church. And I could immediately tell, that this man was from the category of the above mentioned guy from years ago. He is old and there are plenty of things to make his life miserable. There are plenty of reasons to make such visit a complaining session with a good opportunity of service for me to listen and offer empathy. Yet – none of this actually happened. On the contrary – it was a great lesson for me on how to perceive what life is and how to interpret what is happening to us. Instead of counting all that is wrong with his health, he gave account of how much he can still physically manage. Instead of complaining about loneliness, he showed me letters and emails that keep him in touch with various friends from all across the globe. Instead of listing what others have failed to do for him, he recounted how he helps others as much as he is able to. And all this was not just some kind of ‘positive philosophy of life’. There was a practical demonstration. In his kitchen there is a brand new washing machine, a dryer and a dishwasher. These are the things he got himself at the age of well over 80, and learned how to use them so that he can manage without carers. To me there is hardly a more solid proof of the will to live and cope with life as it comes. I’m not sure if I can even compare with it. We went out to lunch together and it was a great celebration. As he said – he hardly needs more to be able to celebrate than a new morning and a new day, and another person to talk to and another meal to enjoy. The fact that he wakes up is a bonus on top of God’s other blessings. Every new day is an extra on top of a rich tapestry of life. And when I see this kind of attitude enacted live before my eyes I really feel put to shame. All the stress we create for ourselves when we so easily slip into living our days without perspective. I think it’s best not to be saving this attitude for the ‘old age’, because that’s simply uncertain. The safest thing to do is to adopt it for today.
Posted by Ruth on behalf of Andrea Kvackova

On being right and wrong

2009-11-12T07:56:00.005Z

One of the aspects of being a church and being part of a church is that there are always those who think that what is going on is wrong, and should be done differently, done more, done less - or not done at all. Such judgements come from both within and outside the church, and can be expressed with more or less courtesy and more or less directly.
It was one of the experiences of attending the WCC Faith and Order Plenary Commission, in which we were discussing things that matter very deeply to all of us about how we are churches, and what the nature of truth and true relating to God is. And I come home and discover that, as always, we are going through one of those periods within the church as well. And it raises an interesting set of reflections about how we recognise and trust the divine presence.
One of the things that I sometimes experience when people are telling me how things should be is the assumption - usually unspoken, but occasionally explicitly expressed - that God is on one side or the other (usually on the other, that is, not mine!) It's the kind of attitude expressed in the joke about the people who were arguing about styles of worship, and the argument ends with the comment
"Well, it's fine - you continue worshipping God in your way, and I will worship him in His"
What has begun to disturb me about the whole process is how easy it is to get sucked in to the attitude; to react to the suggestion that God is on the side of the person challenging me with the conviction that actually, God is on my side.
There was a time when I expressed this conviction in conversation with a (wise) friend. She came back at me very quickly. "God loves you utterly and completely, Ruth - and God loves XXXX as well - in the same way!"
That was several years ago, and I try to hold on to that. I try to remember that, if I dare to stand up and preach, if I dare to believe and encourage others to believe that the love of God is utter and limitless, and is not dependent on being good enough, then that is true for everybody. Even the people who say I am wrong.
And the hurt side of me rears up, and argues that surely God must be on my side, for I am right - and so I am right back into the conviction and practice that the love of God depends on me (or somebody else) being acceptable. That has got to be a dangerous place to stand.
There is another spin-off as well. If God is on my side because I am right, then it takes no time to get to the conviction that I am right because God is on my side - or, in other words, - I have the capacity and right to know and define what God wants, does and, in the end, who God is.
An even more dangerous place.
So, I find myself driven back again and again to prayer, and in particular to the prayer; Lord, you Kingdom come - and Lord, keep me humble.

Knowing what day it is

2009-10-29T12:03:00.002Z

Well now, here I am on Thursday doing what I normally do on Tuesday, and writing the blog. That's because Tuesday felt like Monday, and Monday was bit like a Wednesday - and now I don't really know where I am, because the rhythms have got a bit muddleed this week. And so, apologies to those of you who read this regularly (if there are any of you!)
It has been an odd feeling, this muddled week; it's caused by all sorts of things, none of them really important, but it has highlighted the importance of the rhythm and the calendar, in giving a sense of place in the world, and structure to life.
Baptists have not always been very keen on regular rhythms, and the calendar of the church. Dorothy Hazzard, one of the founder members of one of our earliest churches, Broadmead in Bristol, was known for keeping the shop she ran open on Christmas day, because she insisted, all days are the same, and the keeping of "holy days" was a theological practice she rejected.
In her time, there may have been something important in that witness. Now, I am not so sure.
The Christian calendar, moving us from Advent through Christmas, through Lent and Easter, Ascension, Pentecost, contemplation of Jesus' ministry and the life of the Christian church and culminating in remembering the communion of Saints (All Souls day is this Sunday), before leading us back into Advent, is an important way of keeping us in touch with the whole of our Christian story, and the presence of God in every part of our day, week, month and year.
As we move through the season of remembrance and into Advent, why not join us in reflecting on God's presence here and now, and through history, saving, loving and calling.
And next week, I may be on time!

On technical problems

2009-10-20T08:31:00.002+01:00

If, as well as reading this on our website, you also look at the notice sheet that we put up each week, you will know that we have had some "issues" with our notice sheet; all we seemed to be able to do was show old ones! We have now managed, thanks to our wonderful webmaster and the patience of Andrea and Vilem, got things moving again - we think.

But it has been an interesting experience. Quite rightly, people were keen to tell us there was a problem. Unless we were told, we would not have known, and then nothing could have been sorted out. But then we discovered we could not even put up a note saying that we knew there was a problem. And so people felt, having told us and seeing nothing changed, thought that we had not listened, or were not taking it seriously. Which led to some frustration on all sides.

Communicating - especially when communicating isn't working well - is fraught with difficulties. It feels like it shouldn't be. Talking to each other - or writing, or using sempahore or whatever means we have available to us - feels like it ought to be simple, straightforward and natural. We are communicating people. We know what we want to say, the message we want to pass on - and so we do it.

But sometimes, somehow, it doesn't work. The message gets confused, misinterpreted or distorted. Misunderstandings happen, and sometimes hurt is caused, anger provoked - and the consequences seem to run away from us. All we wanted to do was say something - and suddenly we're in a battle and don't quite know how.

When I was a student, I remember a tee-shirt with the slogan
what you think you heard me say is not what I thought I was saying
(it was a big tee-shirt!) It's a phrase I've come back to often when I've realised that what I have said is not what has been heard. It helps to defuse things sometimes.

But this realisation - of the difficulty of making ourselves understood, and of understanding what another says - provokes me to even more praise for Incarnation. For, in many and various ways, God spoke to our ancestors by the prophets, but in these last days, God speaks to us through a person. Now, all we need is grace to understand!

2009-10-05T16:04:00.002+01:00

I am doing a lot of travelling at the moment; this week has seen me in Prague, at a consultation to reflect on the future of the International Baptist Seminary, and then Glasgow to take part in the induction of the first woman as sole pastor in a Baptisty church in Scotland - and pretty soon, I am off to share in the plenary session of the World Council of Churches, a meeting that will last for a week.
I will be glad when it all stops and I can stay in one place for more than two days at a time!
But one of the things that has been more and more evident in all the events I have been too is just how small the world is. Not simply because of the ease of travel (which, even if it is boring, is easy, if I am honest!) It's mroe the way there is always somebody who knows somebody. For example, at the consultation, we were told to go and form pairs with somebody we hadn't met. I knew most of those in the room, so I headed towards somebody I thought I had had no contact with - only to have him say, "Ah yes, I know your father".
And the man leading the consultation - brilliantly, and his work has been one of the delights of this week - grew up at the church where Seyan is now pastor.
And at the induction, I met somebody who asked me to take greetings to members here whom they remembered attending there some years ago.
So who knows who I will meet at the WCC meeting, and what links will be uncovered.
It is one of the experiences that make real, for me, what we mean when we talk about being the body of Christ. Physically, the sole of my foot does not often come into contact with my shoulder - seeing that I am no contortionist. But they are both my body. And they are linked through a series of connections. To go to places I don't know and discover people I don't know but with whom I have links, means that the language of the body of Christ is not simply pious talk, but reality.
Our website, and those of you who read this blog, are also part of this; we may not meet (though I know some of us do), but we belong together.
And, with this amount of travelling going on, it is something I am very grateful for!

saying goodbye, endings and new beginnings

2009-09-18T09:47:00.002+01:00

This coming Sunday sees Seyan's farewell service. We are grateful that he has been willing to come and share this service with us - if you are free, come and join us for our harvest service at 11.00 on Sunday.
We will take a moment at the end of the service to say farewell, to express something of our gratitude, and to commit Seyan to God's continuing care, as well as recommitting ourselves to God's care and service.
It will, I am sure, be a time of laughter, memories and some sadness. It is an important process, saying goodbyes. It's not easy. It means acknowledging parting, accepting separation, giving ourselves to a new way of life, and not one we might have chosen or planned.
But it is also a time to say thank you, to express affection, to commit ourselves to hope.
For it is in the context of hope that we say goodbye. We hope - we trust - that this new arrangement of where we all are and what we are all doing is one in which God is working, and through which blessing and possibility are made known, made real. We dare to hope this, even when it feels unchosen, and scary, because we believe in resurrection. Resurrection is so much more than "life after death". It is life unlimted by the small deaths that shape our every day - the goodbyes, the endings, the changes - all that threatens our own sense of control and choice. But the promise of resurrection is that the life that comes through and beyond all the deaths is a life that is in God, - rich, blessed and full. We don't need to wait for a heaven beyond the earth for that; we are in touch with it every time we dare to acknowledge the reality of parting, and trust that it is a hopeful process.

Packing Up Memories

2009-08-21T08:51:00.003+01:00

The next few days promise some frenzied activity on the 4th floor and above as I try to meet the deadline on next Friday when the removal firm arrives to collect all my worldly possessions and transport them to Walmer.

I marvel at quite how, as a single person with modest means, I have managed to accumulate so much stuff. Clearly my passion for new clothes needs to be curbed if any future move is to be achieved with less stress than the present one.

Hopefully the present encouragement we all face to move to a paperless environment might help too. Why on earth have I kept so many boxes of papers - bank statements, letters, governors minutes, deacons agendas, half used notebooks?

I suspect moving should afford an opportunity to have a radical review and a major throw out of some of this accumulation but each item has some memory attached to it and it is proving very difficult to consign any of it to my biodegradable black sacks.

Returning 'home', as I will be doing soon, is starting to rekindle memories too. Friends - I think that's what I still call them - have kindly produced a complilation of movie clips from the 1980's showing a much slimmer and youthful Seyan engaged in church activities in Walmer. Watching these has reminded me of the friends, fun and a thriving fellowship of which we were all part two or more decades ago.

Times have changed and people have moved on. The memories are good to treasure but new challenges lie ahead and although shaped by past experience they need to find their own direction and purpose.

As life here at Bloomsbury will continue without me and folk will from time to time doubtless recall memories of our activity together, so, in Walmer, life will go on too - differently from before - but now with me as Pastor creating memories for the future.

The Gospel we share and proclaim must surely be the same, unmistakably formed and shaped by events of the past but relavent and responsive to the needs and diversity of society of the present. Discerning our Godly response is often tricky and the easy option may often be to do so 'as we've always done' or 'as x or y did last time'.

As I'm packing my boxes now, I shall need to be careful what I choose to unpack later, and how best to us it. God is wanting to do something new and I (we) should allow this without the baggage of the past getting in the way.

on being an audeince to nothing

2009-08-18T16:25:00.002+01:00

There was great excitement here at Bloomsbury last Tuesday lunch; the TV cameras were here! A programme that is based on, but assures us it is not, X-Factor, needed to do some filming for an audience. And they thought we would be the ideal place and people to supply what was needed. So, last week, various people were filmed reacting as an audience, both in delight and in despair - or at least disapproval. There was much cheering, and some booing, a lot of waving and a fair amount of thumbs-downing. It was all great fun, and if we ever hear when it is to be broadcast, we will let you know.
But there was something rather bizarre about it all. Because all this audience reaction, all this emotion and response was being recorded without anything actually being there to react to. The various bits of film will be dubbed onto the programme appropriately later.
At least, we hope it is appropriate. But it does raise the question about what is appropriate. If the editors decide that a particular act is the one they want to win, presumably, they will dub on the cheering response - and the disapproving one for the act that is to lose.
Which poses all sorts of issues, not least the point of honesty. If we are watching something, it is very evident that the response that is broadcast with it will guide our reaction. Canned laughter is based on this - and I guess this is just one step up from that. But if this is for a competition, then what does it do to the people who, presumably, are competing with the hope of winning, and being judged fairly (whatever that means)
There is also something about dis-integration here too; the separation from ourselves. When our reactions are entirely manufactured, and completely separate from what others then see them in relation too (if that sentence makes sense), what damage does this do to the wholeness of human beings, to the integrity of who we are and they way we respond to the world.
One of the callings to wholeness that Jesus gives is surely to do with an honest response to the situations in which we are; to respond with who we truly are, not in ways that are designed to make us look good, or to win favour or to create a particular impression. It can be hard to do. There are all sorts of things that get in the way of our authentic and whole response; our fear of others' judgements, a need to look good or be acceptable, the power of peer pressure or, even more fundamentally, our lack of connection with our own deepest responses to the world. To record a series of responses without anything to respond to seems a brillian illustration of just how easy it is to become alienated, and treat it as fun or normal.
All of which is rather heavy over something that was fun. I'm glad we did it. It made us laugh, and it was an interesting series of human interactions, as what was needed was explained, demonstrated and offered.
But it makes you (well, me!) think......

2009-08-11T09:12:00.002+01:00

We have a sporadic tradition here of inviting people to use their most comfortable language when we share the Lord's Prayer. We do this because there are quite a few languages represented among the regular congregation. Indeed, on a Sunday morning, we almost always - certainly at this time of year - have people in worship who speak very little English. There are even one or two people who come regularly to worship who speak no English at all. With a printed order of service, careful announcement of the readings so that people can follow them in their own language, and lots of smiling and handshaking, we manage to build relationships and make something happen. Sharing the Lord's Prayer in our own languages emphasises our links and still gives us all the chance to participate.
I have wondered often about why people come to worship when they don't share the dominant language. On occasions, I have attended worship in other countries, and it is a strange feeling not to be sure what is going on, or at best, making a guess.
But it is also true that actually all of us are attempting to speak and hear in a language not our own when we come to worship. All language of God is so huge, so partial, so striving to speak the unspeakable. We can never fully speak the mystery.
And the words we say of ourselves, the promises we make in the hymns we sing, the offerings we make in our praying, these too are more than normal language - and certainly not our normal language, our everyday speech.
The stories, the promises, the commands and calls we hear when we read Scripture, share bread and wine, open the baptismal pool - such language is foreign to us all, speaking to us in the dialect of the Kingdom, a country we are not fully at home in, but which we look towards.
Having those among us who do not speak the language that the majority speak is a a salutory reminder to all that our worship speech is always a language we are learning, and in which we will always be beginners. But thanks be to God, he still chooses to speak to us.

Power and giving it up - or not?

2009-08-06T08:59:00.000+01:00

Power! I know what I think. Or at least I did – until last night. Power is bad – as we know – power corrupts… At Xchange we talked about whether Christians, whose mission is to the world, need power in order to fulfil that mission. Should we celebrate Christians sitting in the House of Lords? Should we be grateful for Christian millionaires who are generous with their monetary power? And for that matter- should we recruit celebrities to promote the Christian message? The trouble with power – it seemed to me – is not that it is hard to use it wisely. The trouble with power is that it is impossible to use it wisely. Wasn’t that the point of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings? The Ring of Power! Surely, in the right hands – in Gondor, in Lothlorien, it could be used by good people to defeat evil forces. Power corrupts before you have even grasped it!

But then we look at Jesus. At some levels, he relinquished all power. And yet even the wind and waves obey him. He has authority: to forgive sins, to perform ‘mighty acts’, to command obedience from the forces of nature. What was the source of this authority? Is it any different to power?

At Xchange last night – I felt that one of our conclusions is that in relinquishing all power, he thereby embodied the authority that rightfully belongs to a human. Without relinquishing all attempts to power, would the wind and waves obey him? Would he have been able to perform such mighty acts? Maybe it is in giving up power and the lust for power (however we try to legitimize that lust with soundbites and bible verses), we discover what authority means. Maybe, in abandoning our quest for power, we discover the authority that is genuinely God-given, and ultimately most powerful of all.
(Posted by Ruth on behalf of)Simon Perry

broadcasting, sowing and not worrying about harvest

2009-07-28T10:37:00.003+01:00

In one of the conversations at the conference, we were reflecting on the different forms of communication used today - especially on blogging, facebook and twitter. Reflecting led us to recognise what it probably already pretty obvious to most cultural observers, that much of this is less communicating as we have been accustomed to think about it, and more to do with "broadcasting" - that is, people put whatever it is that they want to say out there, and don't worry too much about responses. It is not about one to one or one to small group conversation, with interaction. It is about saying your stuff, and letting the rest of the world deal with it as they wish.
For those of us of a certain generation, it feels odd. There is clearly the danger that it gets entirely self-centred; if nobody reacts, and I look for no reaction, then there is no challenge to what I say, how I see the world, and in effect I am all that there is.
But - thinking about this has drawn me back to the parable of the sower. The one where Jesus says the man goes out to sow and broadcasts the seed. That is actually the word used. Some falls on stony ground, some on thorny ground, some of thin soil and some on rich soil, and bears a harvest that is overwhelming.
In what ways might some of the new forms of communication link us to this picture of gossiping gospel, of living out the Kingdom; broadcasting without worrying too much about what the result is.
Not sure about this - but, if there is anybody out there, I'm old-fashioned enough to want to know what others think.....

Let the whole world praise God's name

2009-07-21T17:13:00.005+01:00

I have just returned from a trip to a conference - much fun, and lots to think about. We came from all parts of the world, and a variety of cultures; Indian, Burmese, UK and US, Australia, Canada and Aboriginal. On two occasions we sang the old hymn "In Christ there is no east nor west, in him no south or north, but one great fellowship of love throughout the whole wide earth". Very fitting and sung with much gusto. But after one of our sings, one of the conference attenders (conferees?) asked whether in fact it was an affirmation we wanted to make. Reflecting, as we were at least part of the time, on the damage that we can do by refusing to acknowledge the reality and legitimate presence of "the other", and our insistence that others should become like us. We talked around it for a while, and came, as with many of the other questions during the week, to a variety of responses.
But it has started me thinking about worship at Bloomsbury. We are delighted by the fact that we come from a variety of countries and cultures. However - we can in no way say that our worship reflects our variety. We may occasionally (OK - it hasn't happened yet, but come along this Sunday evening....) say the Lord's prayer in different ways, and we have been known to use hymns from different cultures on very rare occasions. But our ways of worship could never be described as anything other than European. We are not unusual in this of course. The arguments about worship style often focus on music, but even among the different categories for which people argue, the styles and types are still predominantly Anglo-American - and white Anglo-American at that.
Is this true of who we are? We recognise about 20 different nationalities among us regularly. By no means all Anglo-American. Certainly not only European. How can we reflect our cultural diversity in our worship? Do we want to? How might we do it and retain authenticity, avoiding "tokenism"? Are there ways - both musically and in other parts of worship, where we might find more resources to enrich our worshipping? I would love to hear what people think about this. If you worship regularly at Bloomsbury, let me know about forms of worship from other cultures that you know about, please. If you worship elsewhere, and have worked at multi-cultural worship, it would be wonderful to hear about what you have learned.

deep water

2009-07-08T21:12:00.002+01:00

We had a baptismal service last week. Always a wonderful experience - the more, the merrier, and I long for the next one. There's lots to say about it, but one thing is tickling my mind most. We had a concert the day before, so while the pool was open and filled, we had lots of people in. And, for health and safety reasons, we surrounded the pool with signs saying "Danger - deep water"
Surely the best description of baptism; to get into this is to get into deep water. To be baptised is to be out our depth. To make those vows, to receive this blessing, to respond to this call - is to get into deep water, to go beyond where we feel in control, to have to take our feet off the bottom and trust.
Sometimes the way we talk about baptism makes it sound like the end of journey. But surely it is the beginning. It is about hearing God's "yes" to us as part of the people of God, and saying our own yes to the life of discipleship. It is about hearing Jesus say "follow me", and committing ourselves to going wherever that will lead. It is about dying and being raised to a new life, a life we cannot pre-determine, and about which we have already said "it is yours".
Deep water indeed!

2009-06-23T14:53:00.002+01:00

In the middle of all the stuff I am supposed to be doing this week, I have just spent a scary amount of time trying to work out how to twitter! Not a new form of worship song (though....) but the current social networking website of choice. I was prompted to investigate it when a friend of a generation above mine (originally a friend of my father!) contacted me to say he would like to "follow" me on Twitter. It is a means of keeping up to date which uses a web-page. Those who "twitter" put up a sentence describing "what you are doing now". And those who are interested "follow" - they are kept up to date by being able to read what is posted.
I think I've got it working - though whether I will ever have anything interesting to put on it remains to be seen. and now I am trying to work out if this has been a great waste of time, if this is just one more example of the current conviction that the whole world centres on me, and so everybody needs to know everything about me - or at least, everything I choose to tell them - or whether I can find any way of thknking about this Christianly.
I start from the position that relaitonships are good, indeed, are fundamental. We are not called to be individual believers, but to be the community of the people of God. And practices that support relationships, indeed, enable relationships, are to be valued.
But is this about relationships? It is interesting to know what my friends are doing, but is it relationship? Or might it become an excuse not to phone, meet, have face to face conversations.
I suppose it might. But I have also found that the other site I am part of, Facebook, has actually sustained relationship with those who have moved away, renewed relationship with those from whom I had become estranged, and enabled a development of relationship with some whom I knew only slightly. There is a Bloomsbury Facebook page - keeping people whop are at a distance in touch with what is going on. We are thinking we might develop Twitter in the same way.
Of course it can be self-centred and isolationist. Of course it can be a nonsense, or even worse (I've already had to block several "followers" whose invitations were definitely not the sort I want to take up!) But face to face relationships are not automatically and by virtue of being face to face good, life giving and healthy. Relationships,at the heart of our calling, are also at the heart of our struggle to be disciples. We don't relate well automatically - not face to face or on the screen. We need to learn the patterns and practices that will make it work. We need to take the risks, trust and explore, learn to forgive and be forgiven.
Maybe the skills I am needing to learn to use Facebook and to tweet (which I think is the verb - though I could be wrong; please tell me if I am) will serve to remind me that I am always needing to pay attention to the connections I have with people, and whether they are working, or whether I am - as this blog has just told me - performing an illegal action.
I believe that this is what church is about. It is not the church's role to change the world. It is the church's role to form people who will change the world, live out the Kingdom. When we are together - physically, over the phone or email, on networking sites or through a blog, we are experimenting and discovering what it is to be the people God has made us. And then we live that out in ways that change the world we live in.
And now, I am off to have a cup of hot chocolate and catch up with a friend, face to face.

happy birthday!

2009-06-18T10:57:00.000+01:00

Last weekend we celebrated our anniversary - 160 years. Church anniversary is a significant moment for reflecting on who we are and what we are about, and this year, we invited Bob Mills, the City Centre Chaplain from Bristol to speak with us about what it means to be a church in the middle of a context where people come to work. In the same week, various openings have appeared to engage with institutions around us, with invitations to offer a chaplaincy ministry. Chaplaincy has been described as “loitering with intent”; being around, waiting to see what happens, responding rather than directing, meeting rather than organising. It’s one of those forms of ministry that sounds wonderful in theory and fits with much of the sense we have of our identity as a church; openness, responsiveness, hospitality and service.
But it is worth reflecting that although it can look very laid back, it is intensely demanding – demanding both in its variety of encounter, and the uncertainty of what will happen in any encounter – but also in its out-of-controlness. Chaplaincy is about going out from our building – and all that that symbolises – and meeting people on their home, or at least work or leisure ground. We do something very special in keeping our building open, and inviting people in. It offers a service, a space and a wonderful welcome. And it is the place where we stay in control. To go into other people’s territory is to let go of that control. If we are going to take this seriously – and I hope we will – it will ask a lot of us. It asks the church to let the members of the ministry team be out and about, rather than present in the building as much as we are at the moment. It asks people who are involved to give up time and go and meet people. It asks us as a church to take seriously what it means to enter space where we are not the ones who take the decisions, or the ones who can decide how and when things happen.
It is about incarnation. In coming to us in Jesus, God gives up control. God offers God’s own self into the space of the world, and the experience of being controlled as much as being controlled. There were those who, in the time of Jesus resented that; the sense that God was no longer under the control of the religious professionals, or, perhaps better, those who were committed to the institution of religion, and who welcomed in, rather than going out – who assumed that God did the same.
The incarnation is God’s refusal of that model. God’s presence to the world is not inviting us into the sacred safe space, but coming into the world to create in all of it the sacred space where meeting the centre of Life can happen. And it is without boundaries, such that God in Jesus gives God’s own self over completely enough to be executed.
I hope we will have the confidence to explore what it will mean to go out as well as to invite people in. I hope we will be able to take the risks – and so deal with the failures – that will happen, without blaming and without giving up. I hope that we can live with the changes that will happen if this is the path we take.
More than hoping it, this is what I pray for.

a home from home

2009-06-02T10:51:00.002+01:00

I seem to have done a lot of travelling recently - meaning I have missed two Sundays at church (well, almost; I made it in time for the special evening service last week, when we featured the organ).
This week's trip has been to the International Baptist Theological Seminary in Prague, an institution which was celebrating 60 years of life. The seminary was started, in Ruschlikon in Switzerland after the 1939-45 war by Baptists from the USA as part of the commitment to reconstruction, and as a place where Baptists from across Europe could meet, study and build friendships. The seminary was passed over to European ownership and control in the mid-90s, and in the late 90s moved to Prague.
Although the style of teaching has changed over the years (the seminary does not do undergraduate work - less needed now as more and more countries, especially in the Eastern part of Europe now have their own seminaries; instead IBTS concentrates on Masters level and Doctoral level work, and also runs an introductory certificate in theology with English) the basic aim remains the same. People from communities who would not otherwise meet are brought together in a place of worship, study and eating together. Friendships that endure are made in such circumstances, and minds opened to other ways of thinking, experiencing and reflecting - to say nothing of other ways of praying, singing and preparing food! If you would like to know more about the seminary, check the website at http://www.ibts.eu
This is a place that matters, I believe. Sitting at morning prayers and hearing a Palestinian church leader lead prayers together with two young Israeli women matters. Hearing a young man from Croatia pray with and for a young man from Serbia at the time when the civil war was raging matters. Watching people who have felt alienated from their churches discover that there is the possibility of a wider theology than they had realised, that there is a place for them with their questions and searching matters. And it is this kind of context that IBTS offers.
At the moment, the seminary faces uncertainty about its future - the credit crunch has hit us very hard. For more details, see this week's Baptist Times http://www.baptisttimes.co.uk/home.htm
But there will be ways to carry on, we trust - our prayer is that we find the right way, and continue to offer and explore the particular gift that the community brings to the felowship of European Baptists.
I realised I feel at home in the international, and open and questioning identity of IBTS because it is also the identity I believe we explore here at Bloomsbury. Bringing together people who might otherwise never meet - from different countries, and also from different parts of the community of London, as we open our doors and welcome in whoever chooses to come. And questioning - yes, we do that. We certainly don't find easy answers to the issues that face us, but we do attempt to address them - climate change, trade justice, homelessness, and living as gospel people in the context of all of these.
We are approaching our own anniversary soon. I expect we will celebrte it with the same delight and thankfulness as I experienced this past weekend in Prague. Come and join us.

perambulations

2009-05-19T18:01:00.003+01:00

On Sunday this week, we did a lot of walking. Fourteen folk, mainly our youngsters were involved in the Circle the City walk for Christian Aid; they visited lots of City churches, met people, heard music, and raised significant money through sponsorship. (And if you sponsored and haven't paid, please pay soon - and if you didn't sponsor, donations are acceptable even so!)
Others of us who felt less energetic took part in the Holborn Churches Perambulation; we walked to the three churches in this area, ourselves,
St Georges Bloomsbury (http://www.stgeorgesbloomsbury.org.uk/)
and St Anselm's and St Cecilia's (www.rcdow.org.uk/lincolnsinnfields)
We had the chance to go into each building, and hear something about the life of the congregations and the areas. We had the chance to have conversations as we walked as well, and get to know each other better.
There is something about walking together which is not only fun, but is scriptural; we have several stories in the gospel of Jesus walking with his disicples, including the wonderful story of the walk to Emmaus. We have the account of Paul's travels, including the road to Damascus. And all of those stories are deeply rooted in the overarching story of the journey of the people of God, exemplified in the story of the journey through the desert to the Promised Land.
So, what are we doing when we walk?
We noticed several things about in our various walks on Sunday. We needed to walk at a speed which included everybody - which wasn't easy, as some walk fast and some slow, and so we needed to vary our speed, stop and wait, allow others to go on without worrying, and trust we would all meet eventually. We had to take into account the environment we went through - there was traffic, and traffic lights, there were other people going in other directions, there were the hazards of scaffolding, there was the rain and the dust. Our walking was not in isolation, but in the world we are part of, and we interacted with it as we went - and talked about it! We talked as we walked; the shifting and reshaping of the various groups brought us into contact with a variety of people, and the journey itself gave a place for the conversation to start from - very helpful for the shy among us. As we talked, we discovered something about each other, and began to tell stories.
What else might walking together teach us? Do let me know.

on giving things away

2009-05-09T15:37:00.002+01:00

Today (Saturday) we have been on the doorstep giving away biscuits, chocolate and balloons! Today is International Fair Trade Day, and this has been our way of marking it. We have had cups of coffee and more biscuits in the foyer, (without cost) together with an extensive Fair Trade stall, and a DVD running to give more information on the whole Fair Trade movement.
The impetus towards doing this came from a recent deacons' meeting when we were reflecting on the last Winter Fair, which we did in the foyer rather than the Friendship Centre downstairs. We had stalls on the fronts steps, balloons and ways for people to see what was going on. We thought that, as an experiment in making ourselves visible, this had been a good experience. That had led us to think what was it we wanted to make visible, what did we want to people to see about us?And Fair Trade seemed a good place to start.
It has been a good event. We haven't been mobbed - but there have been people coming in, more accepting what we were handing out and - thanks to the ingenuity of one of the deacons setting up a table and a couple of chairs on the pavement - people stopping to talk and find out something about fair trade, and incidentally about us.
It seems the right way round. Rather than pushing ourselves as an institution, we have been focussing on the Kingdom we pray for every week, and the ways in which it is taking shape around and through us. The church existing for the sake of those who are not it - as good a definition of our raison d'etre as we can find; we are here, not to bring people in just so that we can be bigger, better and feel more secure, but in order that the Kingdom is embodied, the gospel gossiped and people given the opportunity to see something more than the bricks and mortar that make up the world around us.

Some observations;

people are wary of something being given away for nothing
children like balloons
eye contact is difficult
actually coming across the doorstep is hard
the church is visible not when the building is open, but when there are people milling around
we surprise people when we don't want anything in return
doing something together builds our sense of community

We hope we might find more opportunities to do this kind of thing; if we can have the building open like this on a regular, even if not frequent basis, our presence - and more significantly, the presence and coming of the Kingdom will become more visible. Any ideas about what we might do?

2009-04-29T16:03:00.002+01:00

What with a church meeting last Sunday afternoon, and the annual Assembly of the Baptist Union of Great Britain this weekend, I am getting quite a lot of experience in the practice of what it means to be Baptist -together discerning the mind of Christ.
The doing of business, whether in the church meeting considering spending money on audio-visual equipment, hearing news of members or making decisions about the future ministry, or in Assembly, hearing news of the wider family in the country and overseas, voting on who will be our auditors or agreeing together on matters of public political interest, one of the distinctive features of being Baptist is on view; the conviction that when we gather, Christ is among us, and as we discuss, debate and sometimes argue, what we are trying to do is listen for the word of Christ, so that we may respond and obey.
We don't always manage of course. Sometimes, we get into power struggles, or get so bored with the minutiae that we opt out, or sometimes we feel all the power is elsewhere and all that such meetings are about is rubber-stamping other people's decisions.
But at our best, we find creative possibilities, hear words we would not otherwise hear and discover ways forward that we would not have thought of.
To do it - and more importantly, to do it well, - requires effort, commitment and trust. It requires us to turn up, and to take part, it requires us to pay attention to the issues and to get involved in the discussing, and to prepare through reflection and prayer before we get there, and it requires us to trust - to trust our own capacity to listen to the Spirit, to trust each other enough so that we do not always need to be right or get our own way, and to trust God to keep the promises we depend on.
One of the things I love about Bloomsbury is its capacity to take church meeting seriously. There is a good tradition - in the best sense of the word - of "how we do things". There may be disagreements, and there may be arguments. But there are not fights. There is a clear recognition that we have to go on living together somehow, even when we disagree, and so we have developed ways of disagreeing well.
But we also have the problems that go along with that - and that are often part of a large meeting. We spend a lot of time listening to reports and accounts of what has happened. We hear suggestions, but have no time or space to discuss them. We receive invitations, but can't respnd to them there and then.
My dream is of a church meeting which will do the "business" that needs to be done well and efficiently, but which will also have time for discussion without needing to take a decision, but which allows the chance to explore and consider. I would love to see a meeting which has time and confidence to stop and pray and wait and wonder. I long to see a meeting which will raise and consider matters that affect us deeply - political national and personal, around our discipleship and what it means to live Christianly today in all our variety of contexts, and do that considering in a way that does not judge, that allows for uncertainty and difference.
All that, and finish within two hours at the most!

Well, I can dream..... and in the meantime, I am preparing to go to Assembly and to see if what we struggle to achieve on a local level has any more or less chance of existing at a national one.

2009-04-21T14:06:00.000+01:00

Having just watched the BBC series, Band of Brothers, for the second time, an entirely new range of questions emerges. The series follows the exploits of Easy Company, of the US 101st airborne division, through their exploits in the final year of the second world war. The horror of the series was no shock, having already seen it and having heard and read of it many times over. More disturbing on my second journey through the ten episodes, was the experience of companionship described by members of this company. Survivors of this Company, and their children, were still meeting regularly when the series was filmed several years ago.
In other words, the horrors shared by these people during the course of twelve months, has kept them together for over half a century! Why is that? Sure, it hardly reflects every veteran’s experience of war.
Sure, close community exists between people who have not undergone these horrors together. But is there something about the quality of human company flourishing most fully when hardship and suffering are experienced so deeply? Of course, not all suffering leads to such an experience of fellowship. But the disturbing question it left for me is the extent to which a depth of human fellowship is dependent upon mutual suffering – or ‘compassion’ if we dare to use that word. I’m not trying to make some masochistic virtue out of suffering. Still less would I want people to describe the trivial disappointments of comfortable western living as ‘suffering.’
It’s just a question. In a world obsessed with security, of warding off suffering and hardship and pain, have we made genuine human fellowship impossible. Has our obsession with security (military or financial or relational), dehumanised us?
Simon (uploaded by Ruth)

Lending God a hand, giving God a hand

2009-04-09T14:27:00.001+01:00

"Don’t help God across the road, like a little old lady." Those words from U2’s latest album leapt out at me this morning.
It’s Easter. We’re supposed to be celebrating God’s utter power, expressed in love and experienced in the most down-to-earth way. God breaking through our stabilities, our securities, our certainties.
God is worshipped as the one who brings new life.
But I do still wonder how seriously God’s power is really taken, by churches as much as anyone else. Whether our church wants to be engaged in political struggles, or in strategies of church growth, the temptation can be simply to look at Jesus as someone who sets us a good example. And the resurrection just goes to prove that the story has a happy ending.
So we throw our energies into saving the world, and perhaps recruit God, or seek his advice, or ask him to wave a cosmic wand and grant our worthiest of desires. But really, deep down, we know it’s all up to us, all down to our effort. God’s part in daily life, no matter how much noise we make about it, can be pretty small. We do something great for him, and who knows, perhaps he’ll be grateful.
But the God revealed in Easter is too scary for many of us to celebrate. This is a God who pulls the rug from under our feat, who questions our deepest desires, our worthiest ambitions, even our most Christian hopes. This is a God who shows us that he is not bound by the apparent little victories or defeats that can bring joy or frustration. The resurrection of his Son shatters our stabilities, our securities, our assumptions. There is no new life without this shattering. No resurrection without this cross.
And a God who brings such radical, beautiful and disruption into our daily life? Who wants to celebrate that kind of God, honestly? How likely are we to be Sadducees in Christian clothes – too comfortable to take resurrection seriously, keeping God at a safe distance from daily life?
When we hear this week the words, "Christ is risen", who will have the guts to claim from the depths of their being, "he is risen indeed"?

Simon Perry (uploaded by Ruth)

2009-03-24T08:17:00.003Z

Our speaker at last week's Tuesday lunch was Nick Holtam, vicar of St Martin's in the Fields. He told us about the work at the church, andthe ways in which the story of the church drew on and refelcted the story of their patron saint, St Martin. And during his talk, he looked over and asked "Do Baptist church have patron saints"
Of course, on the whole, the answer is no, not officially, and not usually referred to in our name. We tend to be called after our street or district.
But his question has started me wondering. If we were to have a patron saint, who would it be?
Nick demonstrated how the story of St Martin, a soldier, who was later baptised and worked for peace, a man who gavehalf his cloak to a beggar, somebody who practised hospitality had shaped the practices and indentity of a church which looked after soldiers travelling through London during the wars, while praying for conscientious objectors at a time when most people denounced them, and then developed the welcoming work into their fantastic work among the homeless of central London.
Whose story is reflected in our life - and whose story would we like to be part of? So far, I have come up with Martin Luther King Jr, largely because of his visit here; Deitrich Bonhoeffer, whose theology has been so important for many of us; Hildegard of Bingen, a German nun who wrote wonderful music, and was convinced that God's care for creation was part of the glory of loving God; Dirk Willems, an Anabaptist who saved his guard when the guard was faced with drowning.
But the choosing of a patron saint is surely a communal activity. What suggestions do you have? Please let me know.

2009-03-17T10:53:00.002Z

At the weekend, the BBC Website published an article on the call among some atheists for a service of de-baptism; a way of officially renouncing promises and an identity "imposed" on children through infant baptism. A certificate has been produced that people are able to display, and, although, as a spokesman for the Church of England has pointed out, there is no way of unrecording the historic fact that the service has taken place, there is a suggestion that a note can be inserted in the baptismal record to record an individual's wish to renounce what their baptism.
While feeling a proper Baptist response is probably, "well, this is one of the reasons why we are not committed to a practice of infant baptism - it has a place as a freely chosen response, not something done on behalf of another, either by parent or by church" - I am not yet sure that this is to say enough.
For the most telling point in the response that the church spokesman has offered is that what has actually happened cannot be made to unhappen.
We are feeling this particularly in this church at the moment. Last week we were coming to terms with - and announcing - the death of somebody. Except that we have discovered that he is not dead. The details are unimportant here. What link this, for me, with the de-baptism calls is that what has been done, said, made public, cannot be as if it has not. We cannot live backwards. However much we might, at times, want to go back and make not what has been, it isn't so in the universe as we live in it.
Much of that which has been and which has shaped us individually is good and life-giving - but there are always the bits we didn't want, didn't choose, want to deny. But denial, as any therapist will tell us, is not a good place to live. Living in the light of the past - the good and the bad - is a sign of an integrated and healthy identity.
And at the heart of living such an identity is the conviction that wherever we are in it, the story hasn't finished yet. There is always something more to come. And we can't tell what it will be. That has been our experence in discerning death and life in the story of our member - whatever we expected to hear and to have to come to terms with, it certainly wasn't what we actually encountered.
And again, it brings us face to face with resurrection. Because whatever else resurrection is, it is not what we expect. Living in the light of and coming to terms with what has been cannot mean unmaking it, but it can mean living in openess to see what will come of it.
As for unbaptising, I don't think the church has a duty, as some are claiming, to devise such a ceremony. What has been cannot be made as if it has not been. But there's nothing to stop organisations that want to identify themselves by rejecting the faith of the church developing their own process to do it. I don't know what resources are there for those who do not express a commitment to Christian faith to make sense of living creatively with the past. But for those of us exploring faith in resurrection, whatever the story has been up until now, in its light and its darkness, it is not over yet.....

2009-03-12T10:06:00.001Z

One of our members died this week He had left London a couple of weeks ago to return to his home in Brazil, and while there, he had a stroke, and died. We got the news by an email late one evening. By the time we heard about his death, the funeral had already happened.
We are sad about his death, though not surprised, as he had been very ill. We recognise and understand the normal reactions to death – we deal with them regularly in a community.
But there is an oddity here, and it is to do with distance. Because he had gone home, and because the funeral had already happened and none of us were able to be there, we have not had our normal processes to acknowledge and make sense of the experience of losing somebody who is part of us.
And it has made me think about Easter – not just about the promise it offers us as we face the brute fact of physical death, but the way in which we encounter it.
We know about our friend’s death only through reports – and indeed, only through one report, which feels rather indirect because it is by email from somebody we don’t really know, and we can’t encounter the reality of the death in any normal way. For those of us who hear the stories of Jesus’ resurrection, there is something similar happens. We don’t see the event – we don’t see the body moving, the tomb being empty, even the encounters with the disciples. We have report. Somebody has told us. And not particularly directly, but through some written stories. It is not a direct experience, but a reported conviction of which we must then make some sense, and work out how we are going to live with the impact of these reports.
Because our friend had already left London, we were not seeing him regularly – and so his death does not change materially our day to day work. But, given that the reports are true, the world is a materially different place. It’s just that, for us here, it doesn’t yet feel it. We only have the reports, we have no direct encounter or experience.
And that is how we encounter resurrection if we encounter it all. We hear the stories. It doesn’t make the world look immediately different. But if it is true, then the world is not the same place – there is something changed.
We could not get to our friend’s funeral. But we will be holding a memorial. There are various reasons for this; it is right that those of us here who loved him have a place to say thank you for him, and to acknowledge his life as a gift from God. Memorials are important places to share stories and re-energise memories.
But in this instance it is also important for we need the ritual, the ceremony to allow us to experience his death and the difference it makes in our lives and in the world.
When we meet for worship as a Christian community, we are doing something similar in terms of resurrection. We need the ritual and ceremony of meeting, of hearing the story, of trying it on and seeing what a difference it makes to the way we know and live in the world, of making it real not just as a story but as something we experience for resurrection to have the impact it can have in our world.
It does raise for us, as those who lead worship, some intriguing question s and demands to do with what we think we are about.

2009-03-03T10:36:00.002Z

The ministry team have had a whole series of conversations recently - both within and outside the congregation - about baptism, membership and what it is all about. It's been fascinating and exciting.
But, certainly from my point of view, it has also been, on some occasions at least, suprising. Firstly that it happened at all, in a culture where people keep telling me folk are not interested in faith, in baptism and in joining things. But what has really caught me out has been the nature of the questions. I have been brought up short by the reminder that my world and my words are not obvious to everybody.
It came into focus yesterday when I went into a sandwich shop I rather haunt. They recognise me, know what I am going to order, and we have some fun chats. Yesterday, the man serving me asked what I had been doing all day. It was the first time I actually identified myself as one of the ministers in the church over there. Oh, he said - what does that entail., So, I described a (sort of!!) typical day, and he asked a couple more obvious sort of questions - the kind of things I would have expected. But he then followed it up with "And who is the priest there?" "Well, I guess I'm one of them" Long silence. Now, there was a language and a gender issue at play here - but also suddenly the recognition that my term "minister" didn't mean anything - and even when we got to the term priest, although he knew the term, actually, what such a person was, what the church is and does - all the things I take for granted, actually meant very little to him, except as some strange esoteric hidden something.
It is a salutary reminder that what we are is not obvious, and who we are is not clear. It's easy for those of us who have been in this - or some other - church for a long time, to assume that everybody knows who we are, what we do, and what it's all about.
But it's not true.
In Disciples on the Way during Lent, we are reflecting together on mission - what it is, and how it works for us. And perhaps we need to start here. How do we demystify who and what we are - and indeed, should we?
I have been in a betting shop once in my life - accompanying somebody who was very at home there. I had no idea what went on, how to behave or what to expect. I was very uncomfortable, self- conscious and didn't want to go again.
Is that true for a church?
It was a helpful encounter, my trip to William Hills. It occurs to me at various points when I wonder about how we welcome people. Where would be a strange place for you to go - and, please, will you go there, see what it feels like, and bring that into our conversations about how we live the life of the Kingdom here.

2009-02-24T10:47:00.002Z

We had a rummage sale here on Sunday afternoon - well, less a sale and more a rummage and take away, of clothes that might be better used by people, particularly those with few resources, than taking up space elsewhere. They actually came from a charity called Sleeping on the Streets, based on Covent Garden. We came into contact with the man running it through the involvements we are exploring as a result of the new building and the various meetings that are taking place to consider the impact and the use of resources that the development is bringing into the community. He had the clothes and was short of space to display and disperse them - we have the clientele and little in the way of resources. It worked well!
And it is a sign of something we hope we might develop further. The building behind us is going to be huge, and it feels like it dominates and overshadows us. There are days when I almost fear it - will we survive it, will it take us over to such an extent that we might as well not be here? Is it a sign of our disappearance and our irrelevance?
But on the good days, the contacts we are making as a result and the possibilities that are emerging remind me that resurrection is truth. What looks like threat, overwhelming, even death, is the place where God brings life, hope, and new possibilities.
I am grateful to all those within the church who are working to create and build links with the various groups around us - and to understand and work with access to the finances that become available for work in the community. I am learning to look at the high towers and not see an impersonal threat, but as yet unknown possibilities. If the success of our rummage on Sunday is anything to go by, then the links we make, the possibilities to join in with kingdom activities in our community, and the chances to be and embody the love of God here and now - all of these are exciting

Interruptions

2009-02-17T15:10:00.002Z

One of the delightful aspects of ministry at Bloomsbury is the interruptions - true of any public building, and of working with people. But it has a particular edge here, I think.

Well, I wrote that first sentence, ready to follow up with a learned and powerful disquisition on the meanings and glory of interruptions when the phone went, and I was invited to go and speak with somebody who wanted a minister. I spent some time with somebody who was in deep distress, and on my way back, got involved in a conversation with somebody who needed to ask questions about something to do with life here, and then with somebody else who wanted to challenge our right to be in this building.
And then I came back to the writing. I had intended to write about the ways in which the Kingdom comes to us in unexpected ways, through unplanned moments. And I was feeling smug about the way I had dealt with the various interruptions.
And now as I sit down to write, I am wondering if the only reason - or perhaps the main reason - why I dealt so well with it all was because I was thinking about how I would write, how I would demonstrate so well what an effective and responsive minister I am?
Not to turn this into a self-conscious expose of conscience, it has raised an interesting line of reflection; is it "easier" to minister well - or indeed, to be servants of God in any capacity - when we are already tuned into it? Was my effectiveness - or at least my capacity to react with some creativity and patience - raised because I was already thinking about it. And if that is the case, how do I keep tuned in, and what routines and rhythms would support such an awareness.
Any answers on a postcard please! Or alternatively, you could use the comments box....

Try, try and try again...

2009-02-06T11:18:00.002Z

It is probably high time that I found a few moments to write something for the Ministry Team blog so here goes...

Having just returned from a week-long break in Egypt marvelling at the wonders of the ancient world, my head is spinning from the amount of information about the achievements of the Egyptians that our tour guide tried to impart.

One thing that does stick firmly in my mind is the persistence of the engineers who designed the pyramids as they tried get the formula correct that produced a perfect pyramid.

Standing on the plain at Gisa it is possible to see the early attempts and of course the final perfect creation of the Great Pyramid. I'm sure at the time there was much head scatching amongst the geometrists as they tried to discover the perfect angle at which to pitch the pyramid in order that it would not collapse under the weight of the giant stones lifted one on top of the other.

When one thinks that these great engineering feets were undertaken many centuries ago one has to wonder at the craftsmen's skill or was it simply the realisation of a dream with a good helping of luck?

In church life, as probably in all life, we spend probably spend much time head scratching trying to decide the best way to achieve our own aims and dreams. At Bloomsbury we have for sometime been working hard at finding the formula to find ways of being better engaged with the community. Like the Ancient Egyptians we have experimented with different ideas and spent time in groups discussing what we hope we might achieve.

By chance, certainly not by design, we have been invited to start conversations with friends at St George's Parish Church (Bloomsbury) and St Anselm & St Cecilia RC Church (Kingsway) and a group of representatives from all three churches have met to start a process of getting to know one another better. Ruth and the priest's from the other churches are meeting soon to look at possible ways in which we might share and collaborate on events and activities.

These early discussions are exciting as they clearly come out of a desire from each community to share together and be seen to be in dialogue with each other.

As I reflect again on the persistence of the Ancient Egyptians and the results they achieved which have stood the test of time I wonder whether our own persistence may be rewarded with results that will last as long. Perry Butler - Rector of St George's - remarked at our recent gathering that the greatest potential for church unity comes from co-operation and collaboration at the grass roots. As we embark on this very local initiative let us keep trying together to make something that will stand the test of time, something which others might marvel at like a pyramid.

On having the right password

2009-01-29T10:03:00.000Z

There is an oddity about this blog which several people have noticed recently; although it is the blog of the ministry team, at the moment, I am the only one writing it. There are two reasons for this; Seyan has too much else to do (but we are working on getting him to write!) and Simon has not yet got a password, and so is not yet “permitted” to take part.
This idea of a password and permission is of course deeply theological. You can only take part in this “community” if you say the right words, and if you are “licensed” by somebody with power. How often in the church of God are people only allowed to do certain things, to take part, to be recognised as involved if they can and will “say certain words” – use certain terms, or assent to certain propositions? And in many branches of the church, there are roles can only be taken on if authorised by the appropriate person, representing the hierarchy.
Of course, in Bloomsbury, we are not like that.
Or are we? We have recently adopted a new constitution, and as part of the constitution, there is a description of the faith that we assent to. If you want to know what it is, look at our constitution. But there is no denying that it forms a boundary; we define ourselves around a theological description.
Within the constitution, there are also certain limits placed on who can do what – those who are going to be elected deacons, for example, have to have been members of the church for a certain length of time.
Since on of the things we value about who we are – indeed, one of the things that defines us, and that we are proud of, is our unboundaried nature, our openness, our lack of hard edges, what are we to make of this?
What is it that makes us who we are. It is surely not our constitution. But our constitution describes who we are, allows us a way of laying out to other people what we believe to be important about our identity.
To have no boundaries, to have no definition “over against” is to have no identity. There are occasions when I spend time with people whose sense of self is so lost, and so formless that they find it hard to function. There needs to be some sense of where the self ends and the other begins for a measure of mental and emotional health. This is true of communities as well as individuals. We need boundaries, descriptions of what makes us not something else – not a political party, for example, not a social services agency. We are a community shaped by and centred on the stories of Jesus recorded in the gospel – and, I believe, more than that, centred on the presence of the Risen Christ, who is present to those and among those who meet in his name.
I know that not everybody who is part of our community will be comfortable with this description. And that is another part of who we are as a church – we are constantly in dialogue about just who we are, and how we live it out.
And this, I believe, is why we are not tied to “saying certain words” – because what we are committed to is carrying on the conversation; the conversation among ourselves as we discuss, question and explore – and the conversation with God in Christ, as we listen, and as we speak in prayer and living. And it is this which makes us the church, the people of God in this place at this time.
As for permission by hierarchy – well, that’s another post!

The Visitors' Book

2009-01-20T12:23:00.002Z

One of the sheer delights of worshipping at Bloomsbury is meeting the visitors who come to be with us. And on a really good day, some of them sign our vistors book. The comments and remarks are always worth reading. Sometimes, people are returning after a long time away, and their reflections on continuity and difference are fascinating and insightful. It also gives us a chance to track where our visitors come from and to greet them accordingly.
But recently we have had several visitors who have been unhappy about something they have encountered in being with us, and they have chosen to leave advice in the visitors' book for us. Whether or not their advice is appropriate is not concerning me at the moment - what is intriguing me is our reaction to this. I find for myself, that when I first read such comments I become very defensive - what do they know, what gives them the right to make comments when they are only here for one visit, they should try and work with the realities that make up our life before telling us how to do it better..... and so on. I am sure you can imagine the kinds of phrases that go through my mind.
But then I try to rethink this reaction. For, if people feel strongly enough about whatever it is to put it into writing, and leave it for us, then surely they need to be taken seriously. Whether or not we agree with what is said, that people have been interested, concerned or perhaps even uncomfortable enough to want to say so, then it is important that we hear what is said.
It is hard, though. I love this church, and I am proud of who we are and what we do. I know we don't always get it right - but I don't like other people, especially people I don't know, telling me so. However, such defensiveness is not a useful response, for it will stop me hearing some things we need to hear. It takes grace - and humour - to step away from the defensive position. And it takes community. I find that it is so helpful to hear what others in the team and in the church have to say in response to the comments. With our combined wisdom, and humility, we can usually make a fair judgement of what is being said, and how much attention we need to give it.
God give me - and us - the grace to hear what other bring us of possibility and change.
And thanks to God for the grace and generosity of those who leave the comments - the critical ones, and the (much more frequent) appreciative ones.

The mystery of worship

2009-01-13T09:50:00.002Z

We had one of those services on Sunday morning. It was good to be there. It happened. They happen like that sometimes, and for those of us who lead, they bring a particular delight; now we know what we are for.
There is, for meat least, an anxiety that goes with such experiences too, however. For when things go really well, the temptation is to begin to analyse what it was that made it so good, and try to reproduce that. And I have been doing that since Sunday. Simon preached well, that's one of the elements. But Simon does preach well, so it was not simply that. I was glad to find words in the book of prayers that I sometimes use that enabled us to lament. But that happens at other times too. Sometimes when a service is particularly powerful, we feel that it is the music. Certainly, the music was good on Sunday morning - the instrumentalists were out in force, and that is always special. But that happens on other mornings too.
What happens in such services, I believe, cannot be identified with any - or even with a particular combination - of the elements. Sometimes it happens just because it does, because the Spirit comes in a particular way, and it is gift. And it is to be received as such.
When we meet in the chapel before the service for prayer, an image often occurs to me; the picture from my children's Bible of Elijah standing before the altar that he has constructed - and which is now soaking wet - and asking God to come in fire and power. (See 1 Kings;18;30-38) All sorts of things going on in that story, of course, but for me, just before we formally meet for worship, it is about what we do when we come together. We get things ready, we prepare and practice and think and focus - but if worship is going happen, it does so because the Spirit brings the fire. We meet, depending on the promise that Jesus made, that where two or three meet in his name, he is there. Whatever we do, without that promise, it is nothing - well, it may be polished performance and satisfying entertainment, but it won't be worship.
That we depend on the promise is not, of course, an excuse for not doing the best we can, and preparing carefully. But the risk comes when we begin to think that by doing the best we can, we can make it happen.
And so, if I am going to take that seriously, I need to let go of the anxiety - both when it works and when it doesn't - and let go of the pride that thinks it all depends on me. Which could make Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings a lot less stressful. Always assuming, of course, I don't let myself get anxious about the state of my anxiety......

new lights, logos and baptism

2009-01-06T09:06:00.003Z

There's a new light in the church. Well, in fact, there are several new lights. And we are very grateful for them. If you worship with us regularly, you may have already seen them. If not, have a look out next time you are here.
But there is one in particular that is noticeable, and intended to be so. It is on when others are not. It highlights the Bloomsbury symbol at the back of the foyer, the one that can be seen from the street through the main doors. By keeping it lit when other lights are off, we are making the whole place more visible to those who pass by.
It is wonderful that we have such an attractive logo that shows well when it is lit up. I'm sure most people know the meaning and the story of our Bloomsbury B. (If not, look on the website, under "Who we are"). The logo has a clear interpretation. But as is so often the way, we did not start with a description and then find a symbol to match it; our symbol came first, and then we worked out what it said to us about who we are, who we strive to be and what our longing is. And yes - I have moved deliberately from the word logo to the word symbol. A logo represents who we have defined ourselves to be andw we want people to know us; a symbol reveals us to ourselves, and incidentally to others, as we think about it, explore it and let it speak to us. And it goes on revealing.
There are various symbols deep in Christian identity. One of the clearest for us as a Baptist church is baptism by immersion. Baptism has this quality of being a symbol. When we are baptised, there are several meanings visible; the death of the alienated self and the birth of the new self in Jesus; the cleansing of our beings from sin; the integration into the living body of Christ in time and space. And there are many more. Like our B, but even more so, baptism goes on and on showing us who we are, who we aspire to be, who we are being transformed into. As a living and productive symbol, baptism is not something that happens once and then is over. It is a symbolic event which goes on informing, shaping and revealing to us who we are in God.
But another thing about baptism is that it is strange - it looks strange, and people find it intriguing. There is a temptation in thinking about, and practicing, baptism of believers by immersion as a logo; making it something to look at and to define, rather than letting it reveal us to ourselves and others.
There are always dangers in treating symbols as logos - of using something that is noticeable and distinctive about us as a way of raising our profile to other people; achieving brand recognition. There is nothing wrong with that if what we have is a logo. But if we make our symbols into logos, we will lose something very important in discovering the truth that God is bringing to birth in our living and in the world.

Silent Night?

2008-12-23T09:30:00.003Z

One of the things I love about Christmas is singing carols. We try not to sing carols in Sunday worship during advent (we stick to the advent hymns). But there are still plenty of other times to sing the carols - the familiar and the new songs that tell and retell the story, that remind us of layers of meanings, and that are just fun to share. We have had various carol services, and there have been carols playing over the sound system for the last week or so.
But - like many others, - I have had the lurgy over the last couple of weeks. The aches and pains passed quite quickly, and even the sniffles disappeared pretty fast. But then there was the cough.... It's not too bad, but it does flare up when I giggle - or when I sing! And so I have been not singing. It happens at various points in the year, since whenever I have a cold, it hits my voice. But somehow, it has more impact not singing the carols.
Talking to others, I'm not alone in this. Somehow, missing carols is more frustrating than not singing at other times of the year.
And it leaves me wondering why? Is it because we sing them for such a short period - miss them now, and there's twelve months before they can be sung again? Is it because we - some of us at least - have sung them all our lives, and their familiarity draws us into security and comfort, especially when life feels pretty grim? Is it because they are such beautiful examples of poetry and music (no - I don't think so!)?
All of these might be true, and none the worse for that. But I am also wondering if it there is more. Is it that the wonder of Christmas - of Incarnation, the Word become flesh, Immanuel - that this is more than we can say. And singing, making music, letting ourselves go in the experience is part of our wonder and worship.
May Christmas blessings be yours.

2008-12-17T14:08:00.003Z

Swords and Plough-shares?

Our carol service/concert was on Friday evening, and very good it was too. Our own instrumentalists and choir, together with the Mary Ward singers and the choir of the Japanese fellowship all took part in leading us, and there were several opportunities for the congregation to sing as well. And we interspersed the music with readings which told the story of "the passing on of the light", starting from the creation right through until today. It was good way to anchor our celebrations in the whole story of the action of God with people.
As part of our reading, we passed on a light. We had decorated the church using, among other things, large light sticks. We took one of these, and each reader passed it to the next, symbolising the light being passed through history.
All of which was fine, until we looked closely at the light sticks - light sabres, modelled on the weapons used in Star Wars!
Which raises an interesting point. Was this an appropriate symbol of our celebration of the light and life that enlightens everybody coming into the world, as the gospel of John puts it? Can the coming of the Prince of Peace truly be recognised with an, albeit fictional, weapon?
It is a question - or at least, a form of a question, that arises in all sorts of areas. To what extent do we live the life of the Kingdom using the patterns, tools and structures which are not of the Kingdom? Clearly we can't live in an isolated bubble, far away from the messiness of the world as it is. We live in a political, financial and power-wielding world. To opt out of that, to say we have nothing to do with it, to pretend we are not part of it - those are options that are not open to us.
But how do we "sing the Lord's song in a strange land" as the Israelites in exile had to question - how do we celebrate the coming of the Prince of Peace in a context of violence, power-politics and fear? Can we use light sabres to do it?
I don't know the answer - only that the question won't go away. Part of me wants to say that we take the weapons, structures and manipulations of that which is not the Kingdom and refashion them. After all - we didn't use the sabres to fight during the service.
But I am left wondering if that is enough. Some of the youngsters who were present were fascinated by the sabres - and did fight with them. The pull of their identity as weapons is very strong. How do we prevent ourselves from being drawn into the patterns whose remaking we are looking for?
I do believe worship plays a part here - the telling and retelling of the gospel truths about who God is and so who we are becoming; that regular reminding of the truth of our identity on Christ which can get so easily overwhelmed by the often louder voices.
And so it is reassuring that several people asked me - usually flippantly- just why we were using light sabres as symbols in our carol service. There is enough gospel identity among us to recognise the inconsistency. And that will do as a reminder of what that gospel identity is.

2008-12-09T15:40:00.002Z

Simon's back!!! Such good news - after a three month sabbatical, Simon has returned and the ministry team is back to full strength again.
Sabbaticals are an important part of a minister's development and ongoing growth. They fit easily into a professional model of continuing professional development, and into the kind of self-fulfiment concept that is very prevalent today; my right to do what I need for my health, wellbeing or what ever it is. It is easy to look at sabbaticals as very individualistic. But as Simon has made clear elsewhere in saying thank you, sabbaticals are in fact very communal experiences. They can only happen, for example, if there is a team, or something approaching it, to allow the space for somebody to take that time. We are fortunate at Bloomsbury in having a ministry team which makes sabbatical a possibility, and we have been very fortunate during this sabbatical that many people have been able and willing to take on various responsibilities, so that nothing which ought to have been done was left undone.
The notion of sabbatical comes, of course, from the theology of sabbath; the gift of one day in seven in which not only is no work required, the people of God are actually forbidden to work, and commanded to rest in trust that God can sustain the world without our help.
Again, it is easy to see such a command as individualistic - my time off, my obedience to God, my guilt when I work too much. But the command was not given to individuals. It is a call to a people, a community. It is the people who are to celebrate being without doing on a regular basis. The Jewish community has developed this around household celebration - the gathering of the family for Sabbath, the sharing of the stories, of friendship, of hospitality.
As a community, at Bloomsbury, we are very busy. There is a lot to do. We do a lot, and are rightly proud of it and pleased with it. But, as Simon's sabbatical has shown us, one of the gifts we can give each other is also the possibility of sSabbath; of space and time to be - celebrating, recuperating, praying, relaxing.
On behalf of the ministry team I want to thank everybody who helped us manage while Simon was sabbaticalling. Let's explore more ways in which we can do this for each other, and in which we can do it as a community.

2008-12-03T15:52:00.002Z

This week, the Bloomsbury family has been at a funeral. Given the age profile of our congregation, we actually have very few funerals. But there was one this week. And what made it harder was that it was for a boy of 3 days old. No funeral is easy, but a funeral for a child who has not yet lived has a particular pain.
But we did it. We read the scriptures, and heard the promises and offered the prayers.
And we cried, and we said that we were angry. And we tried to understand, and we tried to accept that we will not understand.
Any death brings us face to face with mystery - and the death of a child most particularly. What is it to be alive? What is it to die? How do we find meaning, and what point is there?
These are questions we can usually pass by, or avoid thinking about because there is so much else to do. But when we stand in a wet graveyard, facing an open grave, then they cannot be avoided.
And I find that I have no answers. I speak the promises and offer the comfort that they affirm. But they are promises, not answers. The questions stay. And it feels very appropriate to Advent; hearing - and holding on, if only barely - to the promises, without being able to see yet what they really mean.
Just as it is is easy to avoid the big questions, the unanswerable questions in being busy, being useful, being fulfilled, so it is easy to move straight to Christmas with its strange fulfilment of promise and its wonderful truth, and to overlook the waiting, yearning, wondering of Advent. I would like never to do again what I had to do yesterday. But if I have to do it, Advent is the right time.

2008-11-25T16:41:00.003Z

Last night we dissolved a committee! Always a good thing, I think - the fewer the committees, the nearer we are to the Kingdom. But this has been an important part of our life here at Blomsbury over the years, and its passing deserves notice.
The Central Committee dated from just over 100 years ago, and was part of a plan put in place to keep the church here at this site, and functioning. Drawing on resources and personnel from the wider Baptist community, the committee played a variety of roles over the years - often largely financial until very recently, and also a place to explore ideas, to try our possibilities, and to draw on wider wisdom. For the last few years, it has focussed less on finance, and more on helping the church, and the ministry team in particular, explore ways forward. With the changes in charity law, and with different ways of relating becoming stronger, the legal place of the committee was no longer necessary.
And so, with barely a blink, the committee dissolved itself.
For any who remember the huge place this committee has played over the years, it does feel rather as if it has ended not with a bang, but with a whimper.
But I think it has ended with grace, satisfaction and an alertness to the moving of the Spirit.
By voting itself out of existence, the committee has contined the practice of recent years of showing grace in the giving up of power, the letting go of control.
The committee has every right to be pleased at a job well done. Brought into being as a way of keeping this church functioning in this place, it can cease to function, secure that, in so far as we can every know what will happen, for the moment, the church is not only surviving, but thriving. And, a small part in the great effort, the committee has played its part in that.
And the committee has been alert to the movement of the Spirit, and been ready to respond as things have changed, and patterns have developed in new ways.
In its dissolution, the committee has offered one last service to the church it has served so faithfully. It has reminded us all as the people of God here and now, what it is to be graced, to be pleased with a good job, and to be alert to where God might lead us next.
To those who have served - representing those who served right back for over a century - thank you.
We dissolved a committee last night. It was a God-filled moment.

Can you see us?

2008-11-15T13:06:00.002Z

Despite our prime location in central London, on a street which probably has one of the highest footfall counts of any locally, we as a building remain to many invisible. What is even harder to credit is that local residents - admittedly divided from us by a busy and rather messy road junction - don't credit it us with being a community that seeks to engage with them.

Where have we gone wrong? Surely if we are true to the Gospel we should be engaging with the local people as well as with the big global issues for which we do have a reputation that attracts attention?

Somehow we have failed to connect. Locally will claim to know we exist, could if pressed even give directions to find us BUT don't see what we offer as relevent to them or their needs.
Despite our best efforts over the last forty years and more (perhaps even since our founding in 1848) Bloomsbury has to be a community that has international, national and local concern.
Our programmes, especially our lunches on Sundays and Tuesdays, do appeal to some in the neighbourhood but many who do come from around and about the area have been doing so for years. We're not connecting with recent 'incomers' or those who have been around for years and who probably have long since dismissed us as irrelevant.

Struggling to get our identity right, grappling with public perception of us, living with the physical barriers of our isolation on a 'traffic island', all make it hard for us to be a church 'serving the community' - the strapline on our church coasters.

I guess waking up to the realities that these challenges present us is a first step to seeking to find solutions.

getting the rhythms right....

2008-11-11T15:18:00.003Z

It's been a very Christmassy week this week here at Bloomsbury - for some of us at least. We have been finalising plans for the various events over Christmas, and producing material for the Christmas edition of the magazine. I was sitting at the keyboard doing some of it when I got a text from a friend asking what I was doing. Writing up stuff for Christmas I replied (some soon to appear on Christmas.org - check it out!) And then I commented that it felt very odd to be doing it so early in November. My friend texted back pointing out that Starbucks were advertising their Christmas red cups that week too. I was in good company.
I'm not sure that it made me feel much better, but it was a good reminder that it is not just in church life that the calendar can get dislocated. During my years in pastorate, I have got used to doing most of my thinking, reflecting, creating - and praying - about Christmas at the end of October and the beginning November, beginning to think about Lent on the day after Boxing day, and trying to get my head round Easter Day weeks before I have been able to engage in community with Good Friday. It is ones of the joys and challenges of trying to make sure that we don't hit the major festivals unprepared.
Does it matter? I'm not sure. After all, if the truths these festivals celebrate are the truths in which we live, they are not attached to particular dates. If Jesus is born as a human being, this is not only true in December, and the hope of the resurrection is not only vaild on a variety of dates in March and April.
However, I think there's something important in the rhythms of the year, moving through the story in order, and regularly. It helps us to keep anchored to the story, and not to remove it into some kind of timeless system of principles which are detached form the experience of living in time and space. It stops us from staying only in the safe places of the bits of the story we "like" - if we move through the story in order, we cannot separate the baby in the manger from the fleeing refugees or the slain infants. We cannot isolate the angels proclamation from the pain of the betrayal in the garden, and we can't live in the joy of the resurrection without weeping at the Cross.
And even more fundamentally, by telling the story in order, by tracing it through the year, event by event, we keep it fresh, we don't get bored with it, we meet, with delight and with some trepidation, the promises and challenges that come to us with the various aspects of the gospel.
You see, I think in this, Starbucks has got it right. They produce the red cups once a year. They are anticipated, they are enjoyed, they are missed. But there is no chance just to take the for granted.
If we listen carefully to the rhythms of our faith, let these rhythms shape our lives and responses, we will keep alive to the wonder and the mystery of the life God calls us into.
And if you want to know what we are doing at Christmas, keep an eye on the website calendar. All news will appear there soon.

2008-10-21T11:31:00.002+01:00

Although it is a few weeks since I came home from the EBF Council in Lisbon (see previous post for more details!), I remain haunted by some of the stories I heard there. In particular, the accounts from the churches in Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan. In both these contexts, Christians - and Baptists in particular - come under real and sustained pressure. We heard the story of one brother who had had to escape from Turkmenistan, because the threat to his life and the life of his family was so great. After enduring imprisonment and torture, he went into hiding. Eventually making contact with the US Embassy, they told him that, as long as he remained in the country, they could not help him. He and the family escaped to Russia and lived for 10 months underground there. However, that became unsafe as well, and they were eventually smuggled out to Scandinavia, where he now lives, and where he devotes his time to maintaining a radio service to Turkmenistan, broadcasting Christian teaching, and encouraging those who remain.

There is one registered Baptist church in Turkmenistan - a church that is recognised by the government, and allowed to meet in restricted circumstances. Under their umbrella, there exist five congregations. But the other congregations are not allowed to meet together. And so they meet in relays through the week. Each day, some of the fellowship meet together. And they face opposition, arrest, the threats of imprisonment and torture.

Similarly in Azerbaijan, there is pressure. At the Council meeting last year, we were being asked to pray for Pastor Zaur, who had been arrested and accused of keeping a firearm in his flat. This year, he was able to be with us. He showed us some slides of home - and of the feast that the village, most of whom are not part of his very small congregation, had put on in hnour of his return. Physically, he's a small man, quite slight. And he told the story of how the police who had arrested him had filed a report saying that he was violent, and had beaten up the five of them who had come to arrest him. And he laughed as he told it.

There was a lot of laughter.

The Turkmen who came to the Council were there for the first time, and to celebrate their coming, they had brought a traditional hat worn by authoratative figures - as they put it themselves, it looks like nothing so much as a dead animal; round, white, and very furry. They presented it to our General Secretary when the Council his reappointment for another period of service. He promised to wear it whenever he is being official - and we very much hope he doesn't, since he looks extremely silly in it.

There was a great deal of laughter.

This bringing together of stories of persecution, danger and dogged faith with laughter, new friendships and the gratitude of these brothers for the support they had been offered has left me with such a lot to think about. The claim of Christ to Lordship is deeply political - if Jesus is Lord, then nobody else, no other regime, no other leader, can have the total and complete loyalty of a disciple. That is what makes this small and apparently weak churches such a fearsome threat, and why there are such determined efforts to get rid of them.

And part of how it all works out is through laughter. Because these folk know - dare to trust - that the Kingdom into which they are being called through the Lordship of Jesus will come, they can afford to laugh at the pretensions and even threats of "the kingdoms of this world". They don't do it lightly. They pay the costs. But they do it deeply. And they invited us into that joy and celebration. And it remains with me, making the prayers in which I regularly lead our congregation for those who suffer for their faith much more connected; I have faces and names now for these people. They need our support, our voice, our encouragement. But we need them too - to teach us holy laughter and celebration in the face of danger and suffering.

It brings a new meaning to the words of Ps 23; Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff they comfort me. You prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies.

Thy Kingdom come.

Celebrating Harvest in the City

2008-10-06T09:42:00.002+01:00

Miles from the nearest field of corn ripe for Harvest it would surely seem more than a little strange to be celebrating the traditional Harvest to the strains of 'Come, ye thankful people, come' which is why we didn't!
Blended with a lively mix of fun and laughter the serious message of thanking God when he sends rain to water the earth was the theme our Harvest Musical - 'The Little Black Cloud' performed by members of the congregation to an appreciative audience. (pics on our website)
Supper followed with everyone contributing to the common meal with a dish of their choosing. Reflecting the diversity of cultures represented the table fayre tempted the taste buds and only a very few crumbs were left at the end of the evening.
In slightly more serious tones our Harvest worship reminded us that amidst our thankfulness for all that God provides we as Christians are called to make our own response.
Addressed by Revd Dr John Weaver, President of the Baptist Union of Great Britain, we were reminded through his illustarted sermon that 'God is Green' and that climate change is having a dramatic effect on the world and will continue to do so unless we act and changes our ways and campaign for others - especially our politcal leaders - to do the same. (MP3 recording on website).
Spotlighting the work of Christian Aid and its partners working in Burkina Faso members of the Northern Homegroup introduced the evening congregation to one man's persistence to improve the farming potential in his community and reminding us that through our persistence as individuals and as a community of God's people we can make a difference to society and the world too.
If we do then surely we might truely be in a position to 'raise the song of Harvest home'.

European Baptists get together

2008-10-03T10:44:00.002+01:00

Last week about 120 of us from around Europe got together for the European Baptist Federation Council. The EBF is the organisation that links together Baptists from various countries around Europe - Europe here being a pretty elastic term, since, as one of our members observes, Baptists are better at mission and fellowship than they are at geography, and the EBF comprises 53 member unions from across UK, Continental Europe - as far East as Tajikistan - and taking in Iraq, Israel and Egypt. (To find out more, check http://www.ebf.org/about-ebf/)
It is always, therefore, an interesting gathering. We come from very different contexts, with different histories, outlooks and practices. And there are places where our theologies are very different.
The leading theme of this Council was creation care. We had the opportunity from hearing from Rev Dr Ernest Lucas, a scientist turned biblical scholar, who teaches at Bristol Baptist College, and who has made a study of this issue for many years. He led us through a significant and serious paper on the biblical basis for taking our care of the created order seriously. It was a tough discussion - and tougher for those for whom English was not a first language.
Nevertheless, it was disappointing, in the subsequent discussion groups, to learn that some of my Baptist brethren (and yes, I do mean the exclusive term) regarded Ernest's approach to Scripture as unbiblical and even unChristian, and that his argument that creation care is part of the calling of disciples was a distortion of the gospel. The narrowness of their vision of the calling of God to the people of God that some people were holding on to was hard to hear. If Jesus has indeed come to bring life in all its fulness, then that must have something to say about the quality of life that we share with others on the planet - even the quality of life that those of us in the privileged world impose on others.
A conversation at the table at the end of the week focussed on what aspect of our faith would we be willing to die for (there were good reasons for this, which I will discuss in another post). Thinking it over later, I realised that while identifying what we might die for is a good way of getting to grips with what our priorities are, recongisning what we are willing to let others die for might be a helpful way of seeing where our sinfulness is. As one of our deacons reminds us; "Jesus tells us to love our neighbours. My neighbour in Bangladesh is drowning because of climate chaos. What does that tell me?"