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

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.

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

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!