the saga continues - and apologies

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!

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?

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.....

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.

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.

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?

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.

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...

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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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.

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.....

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?

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!

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.

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!