I don't like getting messy. I have never liked getting messy. As a child, I refused to get involved in hand painting or finger painting. I didn't like gardening because I always got mud on my hands, feet, face and clothes. I was always a tidy eater as I disliked the feeling of food running down my chin; or a messy face. I hate the smell of dishcloths as they take me back to the time when my father would prize one onto my face to remove dirt. It's just the way I am.
However, as a leader on a recent youth group retreat, I found myself getting messy; really really messy.
When my boss proposed the idea of a 'food fight' as part of the programme for our weekend away, I sincerely thought he was joking. However, when he rocked up at our retreat venue with some large bags of flour, cheap baked beans, shaving foam, tomato ketchup and porridge oats.... it became apparent that he wasn't.
I love my young people, and I love serving them; thus when I found myself rugby tackled to the floor swallowing shaving foam and covered in beans at eleven o'clock on a Saturday Morning, I held onto my integrity knowing that somehow, my 'mess' was impacting the lives of those young people.
Recently, I have been thinking alot about relationships. My job is largely relational: I spend most of my time with people, serving people and being in relationship with people. It's why I love my job, but it's also why my job is hard. Relationships are both celebrated and admired, as well as scrutinised and dissected. Those in relationships find themselves the innocent victims of judgement from those on the periphery. At their core, relationships are messy.
My mother is many things, and recently this includes becoming a couple and relationship counsellor for 'Relate'. My mother is also infinitely wise, and a metaphor that she used recently struck a cord with me. She compared relationships to a 'kitchen sink'. Over time the plughole gets blocked with all the rubbish you try to wash down it. There are quick remedial solutions (I guess Cillit Bang has to sell somehow...) but these have only temporary effects. To truly get to the root of the problem you have to go into the drainage system, get on on your hands and knees and get messy. It's hard, smelly and unpleasant work but as a result your sink works perfectly again.......until the next time; and there will be a next time. If you can't clear the problem, its probably time to buy a new plumbing system and start afresh.
To look at someone who 'does' relationships well, the ultimate example is Jesus Christ. His relationships on earth were also celebrated and admired, scrutinized and dissected; and the judgement of those on the periphery left Him an innocent victim. He died to at the hands of the ones he came to save: bloodied, beaten, bruised and nailed to a cross. It was probably quite messy.
Yet his death removed our mess, allowed our relationships to be repaired, and allowed us to start afresh. Jesus did the hard, smelly and unpleasant work for us.
We will all have countless relationships in our lifetime: whether failed or successful, short-lived or convenient, loving or unloving. Hearts will break, friendships will fail, people will get hurt. At the end of the day, we are all trying to make our ways in a very messy, 'baked bean and shaving foam' filled world. No-one likes mess, so it is important to keep a hold of our integrity for the sake of preserving each other - sacrifice the OCD we have for perfection in order to impact the relationships of those around us in a positive way.
God is a relational God and he sent his son Jesus, in all His purity and perfection to allow us to know him more. He hates mess too, but He's willing to get messy himself in order to impact our lives. What makes God truly awesome is: That's just the way He is.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Monday, 12 January 2009
My Memory Box
Spring cleans are always entertaining in my house. My dad is quite the hoarder; my mother is positively ruthless. Somehow, they reach a happy medium. I like to think that I am somewhere between the two.
There are some things you just cannot bring yourself to throw away. As my grandmothers both fervently believe: you never know when you might need it. For me, there are many material things in my life that remind me of special occasions; the Order of Service from my Baptism and Confirmation Service, a selection of birthday cards from my eighteenth, the ticket from my first 'proper' date to the cinema when I was eleven, and most recently the Barbie that sat on top of my nineteenth princess birthday cake. It is for these things that I have a Memory Box, which I keep in my wardrobe in my room. Whilst I frequently add to it; I less frequently take time to go through it, and remember why those things were special to me.
A few days ago, when I tried to add a few photos to my Memory box, I noticed that it was getting rather full. It was time for a clear out.
Amongst an array of many forgotten souvenirs, I found a collection of letters which mean more to me in the world that anything. They are letters and postcards from a teacher who taught me in year Two, but remains to have been one of the biggest inspirations in my life. She brought life and vivacity to my education, alongside love and care. She would dance on the tables when someone in my class got something right, and I will never forget the day that she gave me a housepoint for using the word 'presumed' in a conversation with her about my homework. Apparently this was unheard of vocabulary from a seven year old, which probably proves how much of a geek I am more than anything else. When she left the school a couple of months later, we stayed in contact. She gave me her address so that I could send her copies of my stories (she was very encouraging of my creative writing....) and our friendship blossomed into phone calls, letters, postcards and afternoon teas.
When I was thirteen, my mum received a phone call from my good friend. She was in Switzerland, where her husband was working; and had been diagnosed with secondary cancer of the kidneys. It was a goodbye call that I believe was purposely not made to me as it would have been too painful. She passed away a matter of months later. I will savour the memories I have of her and everything that she was; memories too great to put in a box.
I also discovered some random writings collected over several years of my faith; most importantly a collection of prophecies that people had heard about me from God. It is fair to say that I am often quite cynical about the whole 'prophecy' thing in my walk with God but reading them back after several years was like reading about the life I am now living in serving Him. God had it all right and I never should have doubted him. Psalm 139:13 says, 'For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb'. He knew me before He planned creation and He knew what I would be doing. God's plans are too great to put in a box.
My relationship with God is like my Memory Box. I never fail to keep topping it up with great things that happen in my life; times when God never fails and always provides, times when I experience relationship with him in an extroadinary way. I continually fail to look back at my relationship with God, to thank him for those times, to reflect on them and see God at work throughout my life as a whole. But I cannot box God. He is always there, always shaping and moulding me, to serve him and use me for His will.
I have yet to meet someone else who has a Memory Box. But at the crux of the matter, I do not need paper and ink to remind me of my good friend and our stories. I do not need scraps of paper reminding me how much God has in his hands, and the confirmation of his plans. These memories and beliefs are inherent, and that is greater than any paper or ink.
My Memory Box? It's just extra storage.
There are some things you just cannot bring yourself to throw away. As my grandmothers both fervently believe: you never know when you might need it. For me, there are many material things in my life that remind me of special occasions; the Order of Service from my Baptism and Confirmation Service, a selection of birthday cards from my eighteenth, the ticket from my first 'proper' date to the cinema when I was eleven, and most recently the Barbie that sat on top of my nineteenth princess birthday cake. It is for these things that I have a Memory Box, which I keep in my wardrobe in my room. Whilst I frequently add to it; I less frequently take time to go through it, and remember why those things were special to me.
A few days ago, when I tried to add a few photos to my Memory box, I noticed that it was getting rather full. It was time for a clear out.
Amongst an array of many forgotten souvenirs, I found a collection of letters which mean more to me in the world that anything. They are letters and postcards from a teacher who taught me in year Two, but remains to have been one of the biggest inspirations in my life. She brought life and vivacity to my education, alongside love and care. She would dance on the tables when someone in my class got something right, and I will never forget the day that she gave me a housepoint for using the word 'presumed' in a conversation with her about my homework. Apparently this was unheard of vocabulary from a seven year old, which probably proves how much of a geek I am more than anything else. When she left the school a couple of months later, we stayed in contact. She gave me her address so that I could send her copies of my stories (she was very encouraging of my creative writing....) and our friendship blossomed into phone calls, letters, postcards and afternoon teas.
When I was thirteen, my mum received a phone call from my good friend. She was in Switzerland, where her husband was working; and had been diagnosed with secondary cancer of the kidneys. It was a goodbye call that I believe was purposely not made to me as it would have been too painful. She passed away a matter of months later. I will savour the memories I have of her and everything that she was; memories too great to put in a box.
I also discovered some random writings collected over several years of my faith; most importantly a collection of prophecies that people had heard about me from God. It is fair to say that I am often quite cynical about the whole 'prophecy' thing in my walk with God but reading them back after several years was like reading about the life I am now living in serving Him. God had it all right and I never should have doubted him. Psalm 139:13 says, 'For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb'. He knew me before He planned creation and He knew what I would be doing. God's plans are too great to put in a box.
My relationship with God is like my Memory Box. I never fail to keep topping it up with great things that happen in my life; times when God never fails and always provides, times when I experience relationship with him in an extroadinary way. I continually fail to look back at my relationship with God, to thank him for those times, to reflect on them and see God at work throughout my life as a whole. But I cannot box God. He is always there, always shaping and moulding me, to serve him and use me for His will.
I have yet to meet someone else who has a Memory Box. But at the crux of the matter, I do not need paper and ink to remind me of my good friend and our stories. I do not need scraps of paper reminding me how much God has in his hands, and the confirmation of his plans. These memories and beliefs are inherent, and that is greater than any paper or ink.
My Memory Box? It's just extra storage.
Sunday, 30 November 2008
Look and Be amazed...
I do solemnly declare that I LOVE EBAY. There is nothing that you cannot buy, and recently it has been very handy in equipping me with a wholesale order of six hundred and twenty birthday cards (which is going to last the youth ministry of Emmanuel another three years) and over a thousand latex balloons. It's also a handy place to find sumo-wrestling suits, and other strange outdoor games that my ludicrously crazy young people love.
Needless to say, in my busyness this Advent in the preparations for all that the Christmas period entails, Ebay has been the source of most of my Christmas presents. It still amazes me what people sell on Ebay. The pen lid of an ex-girlfriend. A tissue 'once used by Britney'. A poker chip won from Jennifer Tilly. Am I meant to know who Jennifer Tilly is?
"Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.'' (Habakkuk 1:5)
I am passionate about my job. I love it, even when it exhausts me. I love it when i despise it. I love the people i work with even when they hide my sandwiches and throw my shoes outside (and I refer to the behaviour of my adult colleagues, not any of my young people!!). And I love that God never ceases to amaze me.
Recently my church has joined the 'Advent Conspiracy' (go to http://www.adventconspiracy.org/ to find out more). The main gist of it is that we encourage the church to 'take back advent' from a time filled with Christmas preparations and partying, to a time of preparation for Jesus. Having run 24/7 Prayer on several occasions; we decided to do something a bit different in the run up to Christmas Eve, and combined both Advent Conspiracy and 24/7 prayer.
Alongside the 'Prayer Space' that can of course be accessed 24/7 there are a series of scheduled Prayer events, which are guided and more structured. At some point in my obvious wisdom; i mentioned that it would be a good idea to host a 'youth breakfast', where the young people of our church could come and share food and fellowship together, and pray together before heading off to school. I must have been crazy.
But I am amazed. God moves in extraordinary ways, and one of them brings about twelve or more young people to the Prayer Room every Wednesday and Friday morning at 7am. Maybe it's the bribery of Bagels and Coffee (although considering I keep forgetting to buy any Bagels I have reason to believe that it's not). Our youth breakfasts have become a place of safety, a place of peace, a place to worship together, a place to wait on God.
A place to be amazed.
Waking up at 6am in the morning, doesn't fill me with great joy as the dulcet tones of John Humphrys sift into my consciousness (just because I'm nineteen doesn't mean the Today programme isn't relevant!). De-icing my car in the freezing cold, when it's still effectively night-time doesn't either. Realising on my way to church that I have once again forgotten to buy fresh Bagels makes me want to turn the car right back around and snuggle back into bed. I amaze myself in overcoming these significant hurdles. I am amazed when I see God at work. I am amazed when he answers prayer. Early mornings don't seem so bad after all.
"Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.'' (Habakkuk 1:5)
Amen.
Needless to say, in my busyness this Advent in the preparations for all that the Christmas period entails, Ebay has been the source of most of my Christmas presents. It still amazes me what people sell on Ebay. The pen lid of an ex-girlfriend. A tissue 'once used by Britney'. A poker chip won from Jennifer Tilly. Am I meant to know who Jennifer Tilly is?
"Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.'' (Habakkuk 1:5)
I am passionate about my job. I love it, even when it exhausts me. I love it when i despise it. I love the people i work with even when they hide my sandwiches and throw my shoes outside (and I refer to the behaviour of my adult colleagues, not any of my young people!!). And I love that God never ceases to amaze me.
Recently my church has joined the 'Advent Conspiracy' (go to http://www.adventconspiracy.org/ to find out more). The main gist of it is that we encourage the church to 'take back advent' from a time filled with Christmas preparations and partying, to a time of preparation for Jesus. Having run 24/7 Prayer on several occasions; we decided to do something a bit different in the run up to Christmas Eve, and combined both Advent Conspiracy and 24/7 prayer.
Alongside the 'Prayer Space' that can of course be accessed 24/7 there are a series of scheduled Prayer events, which are guided and more structured. At some point in my obvious wisdom; i mentioned that it would be a good idea to host a 'youth breakfast', where the young people of our church could come and share food and fellowship together, and pray together before heading off to school. I must have been crazy.
But I am amazed. God moves in extraordinary ways, and one of them brings about twelve or more young people to the Prayer Room every Wednesday and Friday morning at 7am. Maybe it's the bribery of Bagels and Coffee (although considering I keep forgetting to buy any Bagels I have reason to believe that it's not). Our youth breakfasts have become a place of safety, a place of peace, a place to worship together, a place to wait on God.
A place to be amazed.
Waking up at 6am in the morning, doesn't fill me with great joy as the dulcet tones of John Humphrys sift into my consciousness (just because I'm nineteen doesn't mean the Today programme isn't relevant!). De-icing my car in the freezing cold, when it's still effectively night-time doesn't either. Realising on my way to church that I have once again forgotten to buy fresh Bagels makes me want to turn the car right back around and snuggle back into bed. I amaze myself in overcoming these significant hurdles. I am amazed when I see God at work. I am amazed when he answers prayer. Early mornings don't seem so bad after all.
"Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.'' (Habakkuk 1:5)
Amen.
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Slumming it.
I spent this weekend sleeping in a cardboard box. I didn't want to, and i hadn't been unceremoniously removed from my home. It was to prove a point, raise awareness, and raise money.
'Slum Survivor' is a charity that works in conjunction with Tearfund, and 'Soul Survivor' to raise funds for those that live on the streets in homelessness and poverty all around the world. The strapline is that we aim to 'Spend a day living the way billions spend a lifetime'. As a youth group we built our own slum out of cardboard, plastic and anything else we could find from skips and rubbish bins. We then camped out on the church premises in our very own mini-city; some of the ever creative teenage girls even had a television, complete with changeable channels!
As the evening went on, there were definately aspects of the challenge that began to irritate us! Hunger, cold, boredom and the deadly slow passing of time became particularly obvious. We soon became aware of how compelling any form of escapism seemed, drink and drugs particularly. However there was something deeply grating on my conscience throughout the whole experience: we will never fully be able to recreate the life of the homeless.
This thought was articulated perfectly when i visited my friend's church this evening, and took part in their youth group. Talking to the intern based at her church, i shared the Slum Survivor experience. His honest and somewhat naive answer struck a chord with me: 'How many homeless were there?'. We can never know what truly living like the homeless is like unless we walk with the homeless. I may be crazy, but I believe that my God is a relational God, and a missional God. The 'Slum Survivor' experience created great relationships on an inter-youth basis, we raised four thousand pounds for the work of missons charities in South Africa and Central America which is more amazing than anyone could ever dream of. Yet, it is my thought that we neglected the people that mattered most. We neglected those on the streets that do not know relationship, those who do not know what it is like to feel loved, to feel ministered to.
My new boss is hot on this thing he calls 'Incarnation ministry'. Jesus says at the end of Matthew , 'Go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything i have commanded you.' Jesus instructs us to 'Go'. We as Christians should be fulfilling this 'great commission', and making disciples by walking with those around us, learning with them, laughing with them, crying with them. In youth ministry I as a leader have to meet with my young people on their terms, to walk with them, learn with them, laugh and cry with THEM.
Similarly, the youth of my church needed to GO and be with the homeless in South Croydon. They needed to walk, learn, laugh and cry with the homeless of South Croydon. I needed to walk, learn, laugh and cry with the homeless of South Croydon.
I have no doubt that the experience as it stood, enriched the knowledge and awareness of our youth fourfold, as it did me. When the clocks went back, and a traditional glorious extra hour in a nice warm bed was traded in for an extra hour under a cardboard blanket on a concrete mattress, i can't deny how real the experience of everyday homelessness became.
But I'm already getting itchy feet (and no, it's not from any disease i contracted from my weekend). Lets take it to a new level and obey the call to GO. Will you join me?
'Slum Survivor' is a charity that works in conjunction with Tearfund, and 'Soul Survivor' to raise funds for those that live on the streets in homelessness and poverty all around the world. The strapline is that we aim to 'Spend a day living the way billions spend a lifetime'. As a youth group we built our own slum out of cardboard, plastic and anything else we could find from skips and rubbish bins. We then camped out on the church premises in our very own mini-city; some of the ever creative teenage girls even had a television, complete with changeable channels!
As the evening went on, there were definately aspects of the challenge that began to irritate us! Hunger, cold, boredom and the deadly slow passing of time became particularly obvious. We soon became aware of how compelling any form of escapism seemed, drink and drugs particularly. However there was something deeply grating on my conscience throughout the whole experience: we will never fully be able to recreate the life of the homeless.
This thought was articulated perfectly when i visited my friend's church this evening, and took part in their youth group. Talking to the intern based at her church, i shared the Slum Survivor experience. His honest and somewhat naive answer struck a chord with me: 'How many homeless were there?'. We can never know what truly living like the homeless is like unless we walk with the homeless. I may be crazy, but I believe that my God is a relational God, and a missional God. The 'Slum Survivor' experience created great relationships on an inter-youth basis, we raised four thousand pounds for the work of missons charities in South Africa and Central America which is more amazing than anyone could ever dream of. Yet, it is my thought that we neglected the people that mattered most. We neglected those on the streets that do not know relationship, those who do not know what it is like to feel loved, to feel ministered to.
My new boss is hot on this thing he calls 'Incarnation ministry'. Jesus says at the end of Matthew , 'Go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything i have commanded you.' Jesus instructs us to 'Go'. We as Christians should be fulfilling this 'great commission', and making disciples by walking with those around us, learning with them, laughing with them, crying with them. In youth ministry I as a leader have to meet with my young people on their terms, to walk with them, learn with them, laugh and cry with THEM.
Similarly, the youth of my church needed to GO and be with the homeless in South Croydon. They needed to walk, learn, laugh and cry with the homeless of South Croydon. I needed to walk, learn, laugh and cry with the homeless of South Croydon.
I have no doubt that the experience as it stood, enriched the knowledge and awareness of our youth fourfold, as it did me. When the clocks went back, and a traditional glorious extra hour in a nice warm bed was traded in for an extra hour under a cardboard blanket on a concrete mattress, i can't deny how real the experience of everyday homelessness became.
But I'm already getting itchy feet (and no, it's not from any disease i contracted from my weekend). Lets take it to a new level and obey the call to GO. Will you join me?
Sunday, 19 October 2008
Making Small Talk
I have unanimously decided that I hate 'small talk'. Yet in hindsight I have spent a vast majority of my life partaking in it.
At some friends' birthday drinks last night, the concept of 'making small talk' was raised between some girlfriends and I. We recalled the awkward situations when we have to make time talking to the uninteresting, the boring and the downright weird at various functions. And it got me thinking: Why do we make small talk? Is it an annoying British trait of politeness, or habit?
It strikes me that when any human being is placed in a situation of unease, we all resort to the lifeline of making mind numbing conversation with the nearest person we find. Alternatively we have developed the art of feigning interest in conversation when we are approached by someone unavoidably. Christians are particular masters at this.
My faith has been challenged by this idea recently. Small talk causes a loss of integrity, and as a Christian I am particularly keen for God to be revealed in my life; and that does not exclude awkward conversations. I am struggling also to see why small talk is a necessity!
We are very good at asking 'How are you?' without listening or caring to the answer, yet also quick to moan when we ourselves are NOT good. And as my mother so accurately corrected me, the uninteresting, boring and downright weird are no less than me in the Kingdom of Heaven; 'We are equal in his sight'. Christianity is built on years of relationship and fellowship; most importantly that of our relationship with Jesus Christ. And i have no doubt that in an awkward situation with Jesus (if there ever were one) He would not make small talk.
Not only should I be trying to look for the 'Jesus in everyone', but I should be looking for the Jesus in myself. If I am truly a follower of Him, then I have one huge journey ahead of me! As someone i know so inspirationally told me the other day: 'it is one thing to be a Christian; another to walk with Jesus.' Working for the church also means that I meet and communicate with all sorts of people, and I guess it is a project of my youth that i am still learning how to cope with them. If there was one flaw in this year's plan; and the amazing job that i am doing; it would be that. And i am not frightened to admit that i feel totally out of my depth.
So next time you find me asking how you are, i WILL be listening to the reply.
At some friends' birthday drinks last night, the concept of 'making small talk' was raised between some girlfriends and I. We recalled the awkward situations when we have to make time talking to the uninteresting, the boring and the downright weird at various functions. And it got me thinking: Why do we make small talk? Is it an annoying British trait of politeness, or habit?
It strikes me that when any human being is placed in a situation of unease, we all resort to the lifeline of making mind numbing conversation with the nearest person we find. Alternatively we have developed the art of feigning interest in conversation when we are approached by someone unavoidably. Christians are particular masters at this.
My faith has been challenged by this idea recently. Small talk causes a loss of integrity, and as a Christian I am particularly keen for God to be revealed in my life; and that does not exclude awkward conversations. I am struggling also to see why small talk is a necessity!
We are very good at asking 'How are you?' without listening or caring to the answer, yet also quick to moan when we ourselves are NOT good. And as my mother so accurately corrected me, the uninteresting, boring and downright weird are no less than me in the Kingdom of Heaven; 'We are equal in his sight'. Christianity is built on years of relationship and fellowship; most importantly that of our relationship with Jesus Christ. And i have no doubt that in an awkward situation with Jesus (if there ever were one) He would not make small talk.
Not only should I be trying to look for the 'Jesus in everyone', but I should be looking for the Jesus in myself. If I am truly a follower of Him, then I have one huge journey ahead of me! As someone i know so inspirationally told me the other day: 'it is one thing to be a Christian; another to walk with Jesus.' Working for the church also means that I meet and communicate with all sorts of people, and I guess it is a project of my youth that i am still learning how to cope with them. If there was one flaw in this year's plan; and the amazing job that i am doing; it would be that. And i am not frightened to admit that i feel totally out of my depth.
So next time you find me asking how you are, i WILL be listening to the reply.
Monday, 13 October 2008
New Shoes....
So the other day i headed into town, highly ambitiously attempting to buy only one pair of shoes.
I ended up walking out of House of Fraser having bought THREE pairs.
I was filled with mixed emotions, of both happiness and guilt. The shoes were beautiful and i was very much in love with them, but I was also aware that they were more shoes that I was not in need of, which encouraged me to feel guilty about my indulgence.
Having just finished reading the book 'Irresistible Revolution' by Shane Claibourne, i guess I'm feeling increasingly challenged about the way i live my life as a citizen of God's Kingdom. One of the things that really struck me from this book (a statement that also happens to be the title of my blog) is that the author devoted most of his life seeking the 'Jesus in everyone'. In a society where Jesus is largely a swearword, and church 'full of hypocrites', how can this be a possibility? Something that Shane Claibourne reminded me in his fantastic book, is that Jesus IS amongst the broken and the hurting, those that use his name in vain and the hypocrites in church:
'We have a God who enters the world through smallness - a baby refugee, a homeless rabbi, the lillies and the sparrows. We have a God who values the little offering of a couple of coins from a widow over the megacharity of millionaires. We have a God who speaks through little people - a stuttering spokesperson named Moses; the stubborn donkey of Balaam; a lying brothel owner named Rahab; an adulterous king named David; a ragtag bunch of disciples who betrayed, doubted and denied; and a converted terrorist named Paul'.
(Shane Claibourne, 'Irresistible Revolution')
One of our future all-age services focuses on this very theme of biblical theology; the story of God through history and into the future, and how we fit into that. I am encouraged to read and keep reading in the Bible that God can be found in the imperfect. It pains me to admit that I am not perfect, but no-one is. Christians are not perfect (and for goodness sake, everyone needs to stop expecting them to be - what a MYTH!) and it comforts me when i learn that God still works through that. I leads me to understand the point of my year as an intern, the true growth and journey that i am experiencing and the trials and challenges that i will face as part of that.
I guess having a weakness for beautiful shoes will always be my 'thing', but I continue to pray that seeing the weaknesses in other people will allow me to see Jesus in them, rather than a blatant imperfection. There is a saying that 'you can never have too much of what you love'; and one CAN (despite my pleas) have too many pairs of shoes. One can NEVER have enough of Jesus.
Time for a shoe cull i think......
I ended up walking out of House of Fraser having bought THREE pairs.
I was filled with mixed emotions, of both happiness and guilt. The shoes were beautiful and i was very much in love with them, but I was also aware that they were more shoes that I was not in need of, which encouraged me to feel guilty about my indulgence.
Having just finished reading the book 'Irresistible Revolution' by Shane Claibourne, i guess I'm feeling increasingly challenged about the way i live my life as a citizen of God's Kingdom. One of the things that really struck me from this book (a statement that also happens to be the title of my blog) is that the author devoted most of his life seeking the 'Jesus in everyone'. In a society where Jesus is largely a swearword, and church 'full of hypocrites', how can this be a possibility? Something that Shane Claibourne reminded me in his fantastic book, is that Jesus IS amongst the broken and the hurting, those that use his name in vain and the hypocrites in church:
'We have a God who enters the world through smallness - a baby refugee, a homeless rabbi, the lillies and the sparrows. We have a God who values the little offering of a couple of coins from a widow over the megacharity of millionaires. We have a God who speaks through little people - a stuttering spokesperson named Moses; the stubborn donkey of Balaam; a lying brothel owner named Rahab; an adulterous king named David; a ragtag bunch of disciples who betrayed, doubted and denied; and a converted terrorist named Paul'.
(Shane Claibourne, 'Irresistible Revolution')
One of our future all-age services focuses on this very theme of biblical theology; the story of God through history and into the future, and how we fit into that. I am encouraged to read and keep reading in the Bible that God can be found in the imperfect. It pains me to admit that I am not perfect, but no-one is. Christians are not perfect (and for goodness sake, everyone needs to stop expecting them to be - what a MYTH!) and it comforts me when i learn that God still works through that. I leads me to understand the point of my year as an intern, the true growth and journey that i am experiencing and the trials and challenges that i will face as part of that.
I guess having a weakness for beautiful shoes will always be my 'thing', but I continue to pray that seeing the weaknesses in other people will allow me to see Jesus in them, rather than a blatant imperfection. There is a saying that 'you can never have too much of what you love'; and one CAN (despite my pleas) have too many pairs of shoes. One can NEVER have enough of Jesus.
Time for a shoe cull i think......
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Drinking copious amounts of tea....
As my years internship with my home church in South Croydon gets underway, there are many things that never cease to amaze me about the 'behind the scenes' church:
1. Everybody drinks COPIOUS amounts of tea. Luckily i like the stuff, but for my new Canadian/American 'i only drink espresso' boss, it's been quite the culture shock. And contrary to popular belief, it really IS as English as it sounds. (I still feel ridiculously proud when i drink out of my 'Sensible Shoes' mug though. I feel it is important to retain your integrity...)
2. Staff meetings are not as boring as they sound......yet.
3. I have never been as scared of an eighty year old woman brandishing a hoover in my whole life....
4. It is possible to hate going out on a Saturday night; sometimes the idea of staying in and watching Strictly has never been so appealing.
5. Christians are not perfect, and stuff isn't always rosy. And that's OK with me.
6. Practical jokes bring out the best and worst sides in all kinds of people.....
7. EasyWorship IS NOT EASY.
8. You have to eat as many biscuits/sandwiches/anything else that gets donated to the office before the end of the day, otherwise they WILL just go bad.
9. Talking to the photocopier nicely does stop her misbehaving...
10. I wouldn't change it for the world.
Changing my colleague Becky's laptop language to Chinese was possibly the mistake of a lifetime, as it has spurred the office here at Church into a frenzy of practical joking. It's surprising how childish your 30-something boss becomes when he is brandishing gaffa tape, or hiding someones sandwiches (especially when he later discovers he has hidden the wrong sandwiches. This was a highly amusing moment).
Yet I can't help but reflect on my day, the amazing people I share this office with, the awesome youth that i have the privilege to be serving, and how blessed I am to be in such an amazing job. Sure, it involves anti-social working hours and it's been a strange transition from my place of worship (and refuge at times) to my place of work, but I can't deny the feeling of wholeness that overwhelms me the moment I walk through the large entrance doors, and say hello to the wonderful Office staff every morning. It is God's will that I am here this year to serve him, and it's the least i can do to make sure I do a good job.
And if your ever in the area, be sure to pop in for a cup of tea. :)
1. Everybody drinks COPIOUS amounts of tea. Luckily i like the stuff, but for my new Canadian/American 'i only drink espresso' boss, it's been quite the culture shock. And contrary to popular belief, it really IS as English as it sounds. (I still feel ridiculously proud when i drink out of my 'Sensible Shoes' mug though. I feel it is important to retain your integrity...)
2. Staff meetings are not as boring as they sound......yet.
3. I have never been as scared of an eighty year old woman brandishing a hoover in my whole life....
4. It is possible to hate going out on a Saturday night; sometimes the idea of staying in and watching Strictly has never been so appealing.
5. Christians are not perfect, and stuff isn't always rosy. And that's OK with me.
6. Practical jokes bring out the best and worst sides in all kinds of people.....
7. EasyWorship IS NOT EASY.
8. You have to eat as many biscuits/sandwiches/anything else that gets donated to the office before the end of the day, otherwise they WILL just go bad.
9. Talking to the photocopier nicely does stop her misbehaving...
10. I wouldn't change it for the world.
Changing my colleague Becky's laptop language to Chinese was possibly the mistake of a lifetime, as it has spurred the office here at Church into a frenzy of practical joking. It's surprising how childish your 30-something boss becomes when he is brandishing gaffa tape, or hiding someones sandwiches (especially when he later discovers he has hidden the wrong sandwiches. This was a highly amusing moment).
Yet I can't help but reflect on my day, the amazing people I share this office with, the awesome youth that i have the privilege to be serving, and how blessed I am to be in such an amazing job. Sure, it involves anti-social working hours and it's been a strange transition from my place of worship (and refuge at times) to my place of work, but I can't deny the feeling of wholeness that overwhelms me the moment I walk through the large entrance doors, and say hello to the wonderful Office staff every morning. It is God's will that I am here this year to serve him, and it's the least i can do to make sure I do a good job.
And if your ever in the area, be sure to pop in for a cup of tea. :)
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