I am currently using the Northumbria Community psalter/prayer book/daily office whatever you wish to call it, to start my day. I tend to have phases of using this interspersed with other resources and, er well, none (I'm an honest kind of a minister!) for morning prayers. At the moment, I'm using the Aidan cycle of readings and reflections and have been very much struck by the pertinence of those based around the Iona hymn, sometimes referred to as 'Stumbling Blocks and Stepping Stones':
Unsure, when what was bright turns dark
and life, it seems, has lost its way,
we question what we once believed
and fear that doubt has come to stay.
We sense the worm that gnaws within
has withered willpower, weakened bones,
and wonder whether all that's left
is stumbling blocks or stepping stones.
Where minds and bodies reel with pain
which nervous smiles can never mask,
and hope is forced to face despair
and all the things it dare not ask;
aware of weakness, guilt or shame,
the will gives out, the spirit groans,
and clutching at each straw we find
more stumbling blocks than stepping stones.
Where family life has lost its bliss
and silences endorse mistrust,
or anger boils and tempers flare
as love comes under threat from lust;
where people cannot take the strain
of worklessness and endless loans,
what pattern will the future weave -
just stumbling blocks, no stepping stones?
Where hearts that once held love are bare
and faith, in shreds, compounds the mess;
where hymns and prayers no longer speak
and former friends no longer bless;
and when the church where some belonged
no more their loyalty enthrones,
the plea is made, 'If you are there,
turn stumbling blocks to stepping stones!'
Ah, God, you, with the Maker's eye,
can tell if all that's feared is real,
and see if life is more than what
we suffer, dread, despise and feel.
If some by faith no longer stand,
nor hear the truth your voice intones,
stretch out your hand to help your folk
from stumbling block to stepping stones.
John L Bell (born 1949) and Graham Maule (born 1958)
© 1989 WGRG, Iona Community, 4th floor, Savoy House, 140 Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow G2 3DH, Scotland
There seems to me to a beautiful broken honesty about the words, a hope that somehow survives when all seems overwhelmingly hopeless - and a final call upon God to lead us on, in all the precarious vulnerability of using stepping stones, into the future.
Many years ago I recall crossing the stepping stones at Dovedale in Derbyshire with members of the Girls' Brigade we'd taken to camp. Some boldly strode over - even the wobbly one no obstacle - but most needed encouragement, and some needed either an adult walking ahead of them to show it safe or - more challenging as some stones are fairly small - someone to hold their hand. Reading this hymn/poem today I find myself wondering where God is for each person I know as they step out into their future. On the far bank, arms open in ready embrace, calling them to come over? One step ahead, showing the way, showing that even the wobbly bits are actually copable? Alongside, holding tightly to their hands, teetering with them on the edge? Behind, urging them on? In the water to rescue them if they do fall in?
Tomorrow evening we have a Church Meeting, as part of which we need to kick off our annual process for election of Deacons (joy!). This year there will five vacancies (out of eight) because we elected none last year; on balance of probability the two who conclude their term this year won't wish to stand again - one has already said not, the other is still making up her mind. We are a teetering, tottering little church and tomorrow's meeting could be challenging. But my prayer is, that as we share this poem (we'll read it) we will find comfort and renewed strength to step onto the next stone.
A final thought that's just popped into my head! I wonder which step we're on in our life stories, individually or collectively? Might it be that my little church has only one or two more steps to go before it reaches the far bank, the embrace of the waiting parent and journey's end? I find it a more hopeful metaphor than some I hear.