Today is pretty manic... just grabbing a few minutes between events to read emails and such like.  Got my work proposal off by midnight Myanmar Time (Google tells me it's the right number of hours ahead of the UK...) and made it to the Bright Hour 70th birthday service.

There was a nostalgia section to the service - recalling the early days, but not really saying very much at all.  Apparently a man used to go in early to light the boiler to heat the church and then light the fire in the upstairs schoolroom.  Sometime later someone known as the 'copper lady' would go into the washhouse and light the copper in readiness for making tea.  The chapel crockery was, so far as anyone could remember white with a coloured rim around the top, water was pumped from a communal pump shared with adjacent cottages and milk was fetched from the farm in a can.  Tea was bread and butter with homemade jam.

What was sad was the lack of anyone who seemed to know anything about what they did or who they were.  There were recollections of rallies with soloists and the ubiquitous (in this area) 'roll call' of churches and groups present but nothing that spoke of people or purpose.

As the women who began this meeting would have been contemporaries of my grandmother (who, had she lived, would have been 100 this year) I found myself able to imagine some of what they would have experienced, but am no wiser about what they actually did.  Did they sew and knit?  Did they pray?  Did they swap recipes?  Did they work for charity? I don't know, I'm not sure anyone else did either.

Psalm 71 was well received, along with my imagined old man playing his equally old harp and singing his praises to God.  The oldest person present was 99, but as an incomer had never been part of the Bright Hour.  I think I was the youngest, though there were a couple of others about my age, which made a pleasant change.

I don't generally like speaking to women's meetings, but this one always feels a little more alive than most.  They had a few men present, not just as chauffeurs but as welcomed participants.  Maybe there is life in the old thing yet.

After the service we had tea and scones, with the jam so thin you could pour it over the scones, and tea poured from an enormous, ancient pot.  The copper lady may be long gone, but her legacy lives on!

Will there be another generation of Christians who socialise together or meet for fellowship?  Will they, like the Bright Hour grow old together and find themselves slowly dying off?  Does this even matter?  Should each generation find its own level and do it its own way?  Is there anything new under the sun - will "Cell Groups" one day sound as quaint as "Bright Hour?"  Will someone tell of how people used to drive to someone's house, order take aways and sit on IKEA furniture in the way the Copper Lady was spoken of today? 

If, by some miracle, our 'Thing in a Pub' ever makes it to 70 years, what stories will be told of its early days?  What stories will anyone tell of us after we are gone?  And what about the neverending story of which we are a part...?

"Even when I am old and grey, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come."  Psalm 71:18 NIVi

Today I am short on time to get together a proposal for this year's DPT work.  This is bad news, I don't like being this close to a self imposed deadline and having nothing done.  A couple of weeks ago the ideas wre flowing nicely then a whole heap of important, interesting stuff came along and forced them out of my brain - and unfortunately not onto paper, literal or virtual.

I think that what I am wanting to dothis year has something to do with the hermeutical task of both reading and writing history.  My central, generic question for all of this is along the lines of 'what is an/the appropriate way of using historical documents in theological reflection' and my specific focus is 'Baptists considering the potential for change.'  I have to keep writing these down as they tend to get nuanced as I go along and there are always new and exciting 'side streets' opening up along the way.

This year's focus is on denominational history writing, and I think what I want to is probably two-fold:

1. To re-read key BUGB 'endorsed' texts to try to anser a series of questions:
   • What prompted the production of this document?
   • Who wrote it?  Allied to this, who commissioned/sponsored it?
   • When was it written?
   • What is included?
   • What methods or assumptions undergird the writer's approach?
   • Have primary sources or other references been identified - e.g.
     church books/minute books, press cuttings, denominational archives, etc?
   • What is the 'feel' and 'trajectory' of the document?  What is the
     document trying to do? 
   • Who is the target audience? 
   • Is it forward looking?
   • Does it endeavour to evaluate or simply to record
2. If possible, and following item 1 above, to interview or correspond with, some of the authors to explore their responses to (some of) the above questions and to compare the findings.

My feeling is that this would be valuable for various reasons:

1. It will help me to learn to read history in a different way - i.e. that I come to it with a set of questions that are not 'what happened in 1864,' expecting a 'gospel truth' answer, but actually 'what is going in the writing' as well as 'what is this document saying to me'
2. If it is possible to obtain responses from some of the writers, it will allow me to test out, to some degree, the degree of correspondence between their intent and my reading - connecting a 'real writer' to a 'real reader' and maybe allowing some picture of the 'perceived writer' and 'ideal reader' to be deduced?  (I feel a diagram coming on here...)
3. What I hope the work will do is then to begin to question how useful the history writing is for theological reflection - whether that might be on Baptismal practice, potential for change, atonement theories or anything else.   As a 'frinstance,' the 17th Century debate over singing of hymns affected both strands of English Baptists, with the majority of published rhetoric being by a couple of Particular Baptists, yet most histories report this as an issue affecting the General Baptists.  My suspicion is that the reasoning runs roughly thus: the General Baptists are seen as the heretics, and there is a suggestion that most of them slid off into Unitarianism, they are the 'baddies.'  In C20/C21 English Baptists cannot imagine not singing, even if we squabble over books, words, guitars and data projectors.  To acknowledge that we once squabbled over whether or not to sing is a tad embarassing.  So let's say it was the heretic Generals who didn't like it, then we have mentioned it but can distance ourselves from it.  I can't prove this is the case, it is my reading of someone else's writing - my hermeneutic if you like.  Setting aside, for a moment, this perceived distortion, the 'high level' histories don't seem to be much help understanding underlying thinking, it is necessary to go back to the dusty musty documents of the time - which of themselves are an incomplete and biased record.  This is fun for me, for not much use to normal people who have neither the access not inclination to dig them out.  The more practical question that arises is, I think, can we find a way of writng and reading history that is more than summaries but that actually helps us to think - history that 'speaks to us' that has 'light and truth' of how God's people wrestled with issues or situations in a way that does inform our present and shape our future?  All of this is a long way down the line, and certainly not this year's project.  For now, I think I have to be content with beinning to relate better history and hermeneutics along with a bit of literary stuff; thankfully this does connect back to last year's work on congregational studies, which as well, otherwise I'd be, in a word, stuffed!

Point 3 above should be more than one paragraph but I can't fathom out how to get this thing to let me do it so the formatting is right!  Sorry, I haven't finally learned how to write long paras.

Now the challenge is to turn this waffle into a workable proposal and email it north by midnight!

I am writing a reflection ( a short sermon I guess) for Sunday's harvest service using the BMS sermon outline as a guide, and getting cross with it!  Focussing on the land of Indonesia, still recovering from the tsunami three years ago - and now recent earthquakes - it talks about the beginning of psalm 46, God as our refuge and strength and then says this "the great mystery of God's power and protection is that it often remains hidden and unseen until a moment of crisis when it is powerfully there to protect us" and talks about some recent animated adventure in which a female superhero rescuses a family at the last minute from certain death.

This makes me cross because it isn't how I understand either God or faith.  God is not a superhero who swoops in to rescue me from trouble just as it is about to overwhelm me, rather, God is there in the midst of the trouble, strengthening me to face it - an ever present help in trouble, not out of it.

God is an ever present help... therefore we will not fear...

To me this means, because we believe that God is strong and ever present in our struggles to help us, we doggedly choose not to be overwhelmed by fear.  This is not the same as 'whoopee do, God's here, I'm not scared.'  No?  I am readily terrified by people and situations!  Even when I believe God is with me.  But because I believe God is there, I can face them, that's the difference faith makes.

A couple of years ago when reading part of Isaiah and the bit that says the Lord's servant will not be discouraged (sorry, I cannot recall chapter and verse and I'm not about to look it up to try to look clever) I recall realising that, for me, this didn't mean 'the LORD's servant won't feel discouraged' but rather 'the LORD's servant doggedly determines not to let things get on top of him/her to the extent that she/he is too discouraged to go on.'

Do I believe in miracles?  Yes, I do.  Do I believe in a superhero genie-in-a-bottle/lamp God?  No, I don't.

Because we believe God is strong and safe, always with us in the struggles of life, we choose not to be afraid, no matter if we lose everything in which we find security... "Desist!" shouts God, "I'm in charge" - this is the God who is with us.

There now, rant over, back to Sunday's reflection....

As part of yesterday's service I offered peple an opportunity of anointing - for healing and/or for service, both Biblical patterns.  When I'd been preparing the service, I had felt strongly that this was the right thing to do, but as the week wore on I became less certain - my folk can be a bit rigid and tell me thst 'Baptists don't...' (fill in the gap).  All through the service I hummed and ha-ed (or however you spell that expression) and only during the intercessions - which I always get someone else to lead - did I finally decide to go with it.

I found this fantastic photo on the web with a Google search which seems to say everything that needs to be said theologically about anointing...

You don't need to be male or a priest to do it, you don't need to be young or dying to receive it!  You don't need 'holy oil blessed by the bishop' - Wilko's baby oil or ASDA cooking oil will do fine (best not to use dirty engine oil though).

And - which is as well as I'm left handed - you don't have to do it with your right hand!!!

~

Before the liturgical invitation to the Lord's table (Baptist brick page 14, a 'Simple Pattern'; I hadn't the energy to write my own this time) I explained what I was offering, that the oil was hypoallergenic, dermatologically tested etc etc and that I would come round during the last hymn (the front row was half full because we only put enough chairs, so I couldn't ask then to move there) but they'd need to indicate by waving at me, which would require some courage on their part.

I, not quite sure what I expected, but I was touched and surprised by those who did respond - not just the 'obvious' ones, in fact, not at all the obvious ones really.  Some of the quieter folk, who are seen as rather peripheral to the church, not the 'old' families, not the noisy ones, these were the people who shyly raised a hand and asked for annointing and prayer.  One person sitting in the back row crossed himself, and I smiled inwardly, glad he felt safe to do this (and afterwards recalled how, though during a year working with an RC church I had never felt the desire to join in, sometimes, in private it is something I, too, find helpful...), another woman, quietly weeping said 'this has come just at the right time...'

It is a constant mystery to me how, when we dare to take risks with our worship, mission and service, somehow, God breaks through and makes authentic the very thing that pushes our boundaries beyond what we would ever dream.

I don't know that anointing will become part of our regular worship- in some ways, I hope not.  There is always a danger that it would become another routine. If, however, it helps us better to minister to one another in moments of need and commissioning, then it is a good thing.

This is a psalm written in old age...

I will praise you with the harp for your faithfulness, O My God

My hands, with fragile paper thin skin, bespeckled with liver spots, embrace the wood polished by years of use...

My fingers, gnarled, stiff with arthritis, scarred by life's battles, reach for the strings so much harder to pluck than in my youth...

The notes sound out, not so clear as in the past, some not intended, some out of time...

But I offer them to you, God of old age, who hears, as if through my hearing aid, the music I play

 

I will sing praise to you to you with the lyre, O Holy One of Isarel

A cough to clear my throat, the frail, faltering notes of old age, wavering, a little off key...

No more top C's, unintentional vibrato...

Words elude my grasp, hymns I loved of yesteryear reduced to tum ti tum...

New songs too fast, too syncopated, no harmonies, no depth...

(Don't let me get crabbit LORD, inside I'm still a young girl with wings on my feet)*

I sing what I know, what I trust to be true...

Great is Thy faithfulness, LORD, unto me.

Today I have a cold - and a hacking cough and my voice isn't too good.  Working with Psalm 71 in readiness for Wednesday and a group of seniors recalling 70 years of the 'Bright Hour' led me along this path.  Somehow thanks to acute rhino-virus, I feel a little more empathy than I otherwise might!

For the record (in case you ever wondered) this is not a pop at new songs, which I actually enjoy using, just a reflection of what some (by no means all) older folk say to me.  That and recognition that I find myself nodding agreement when I watch 'Grumpy Old Women!'

* Plagiarised from the wonderful poem "A Crabbit Old Woman"