This week I have had virtual conversations with ministers all over the UK (and beyond) as we have tried to negotiate the new territory in which we find ourselves.  Some have eagerly engaged with new technology, some have felt overwhelmed, all have done their best to keep community, to be church.

I have found myself recalling the apocryphal tale of the dispirited minister who dreamed he (it was a he in those days!) was taken on a guided tour of heaven.  Finally they neared a room where he heard the most beautiful 'sung worship' ever.  Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he recalled the croaky voices of his congregation, the bum notes on the organ, his own stumbling prayers.  Quietly, the angel who was showing him round opened the door and led him inside... there they were, his own folk... He awoke reminded that what God hears and sees is not the fraility but the beautiful authenticity.

This week I have shared in stuff that was really slick and stuff that was really clunky.  I have seen ministers bragging how they will be doing X or Y, and ministers weeping because they can't do any of it.  It's uncharted territory (not an Exodus, not an Exile, let the reader understand) and we are doing our best.

When God's Sophia zooms her way over the world this Sunday, and returns home to God, the Trinity will dance for joy, because it is so very, very good.