Ok

By continuing your visit to this site, you accept the use of cookies. These ensure the smooth running of our services. Learn more.

- Page 6

  • A Pleasant Morning

    So, I arrived at the church I was visiting about ten minutes before the service was due to begin, following a couple up the steps to the open door of the vestibule.  A woman steward smiled, introduced herself, held the inner door open and said "you can sit anywhere".  There were very few people present, so I headed for an empty row, not quite at the back, and sat down.  Slowly the church filled up, someone sat next to me and started to chat... all was fine until she asked me what I do for a living: cover blown!  In total cover was blown three times, but most people will not have had a clue who I was.

    The service began five minutes after the advertised start time, and ended roughly 80 minutes later, having included communion.  The sermon was well crafted and thoughtful, being very pertinent to the resident congregation at this stage in their lives together.  It did not tell me anything I hadn't already thought, many times, but it was good to be reminded of parts of the story of Moses, of the fact that the Bible is 'edited highlights', of the God who is always there, even we might begin to wonder, and whose plans and dreams go beyond anything our frail minds might dare contemplate.

    Musically it was OK - the musicians were competent and were definitely leading worship not performing, but it did confuse me to have one hymn (based on a psalm) with the verses in a very jumbled order.  I knew most of the hymns and easily picked up the others.

    The prayers were mixed - all extempore, some an excellent example of this genre, others, well, really, just, typical of it.

    Communion was rather odd - devoid of meaningful liturgy, and it felt like we were invited to come forward to receive at least three times before it occurred.  For me, the most weird thing was collecting my bit of bread and my thimble of wine and then having to carry them back to my seat to consume them... made more disconcerting when someone collided with me, causing me to spill half of the wine.  I guess you would grow accustomed to it, and find a way to enter into it more purposefully, but I found it very odd.

    So to my little set of questions!

    • The welcome.  At the door, a smiling, friendly person, though I was then left to fend for myself.  Those sitting nearby were gently inquisitive, asked my name and chatted.  The service began with a weclome from the front.  The downside is that once everyone is in they bolt the front doors, and the only way out is via a side door - which no-one thinks to mention until you are about to leave.  A good welcome; about right for me.
    • How easy or difficult it is to know what is going on? Everything was announced, so it was easy to follow the service.  Just my perennial grouch that we told to stand to sing, rather than invited to do so if we were able.  That said, the person who read the scriptures, an American who claimed that Baptists have always stood for this (really?  not any Baptists I've known!) did add 'if we can'.  Easy to follow, no uncomfortable surprises, but a sense of being 'told' rather than 'invited' to particpate.  If I had tried to leave straight away rather than chatting I might have gone to the wrong door and been left very confused!
    • Liturgical process.  Well, yes, most of the elements were there... gathering, praise, listening, breaking bread, praying (for specific people in the church) and a kind of a blessing.  To be honest, the feel was more conference than act of worship, and this was down to the language rather than the process.  Absence of confession and intercession were glaringly obvious... so typical British Baptists.
    • Practical and logistical. It was a nice space, a tastefully updated Victorian chapel, with the standard issue padded church chairs with little holes for communion cups drilled into the tops.  The gap between rows was more than adequate and I did not feel squashed up to my neighbours even though the chairs were (rightly) linked together.  Projection of words used (by default) a dyslexia friendly colour scheme, though I'd have loved to adjust the font size (down) and insert a few line breaks in the correct places (that's a fault of the hymn software they were using, not them per se) and the PA was clear.  There were no distractions and it was a pleasant place to be.
    • Do I actually feel I have been in worship?  Yes, I did.  Nothing dramatic, just the use of one the hymns that we had used last week, that gave me a sense of continuity, and some gentle reminders of things I already know of how God works.  Good atmosphere, attentive congregation, focussed throughout.
    • How did the coffee and cake compare with ours?!  It didn't!  A lovely lady poured me a cup of the most insipid chapel tea I've come across in a very long time, which I then had to carry some distance to another table to find the milk.  There was a plenteous selection of biscuits - but experience told me they all contained soy so I opted out.  There was some good chat over drinks and a lovely atmosphere... but I am already missing the home baking of my gorgeous Gatherers!  
    • What felt like heaven?  The diversity of accents and nationalities... those who spoke during worship had Northern Irish, Australian, North American and Glasgow accents; I also heard people chatting in other languages.
    •  What felt like the other place?  To be honest, there was nothing remotely hellish about this service; the communion was very disappointing and seemed, to me, wide of the mark, being neither 'congregational' or 'episcopal' in style and combining the worst of each.

    So, all in all, a pleasant morning, good hospitality, competent and relevant preaching and a positive start to my church-crawl!

  • Mystery Worshipping...

    Anyone who ever visits the Ship of Fools website will be au fait with the idea of Mystery Worshippers - people who go 'undercover' to worship at other churches and then write reports on what they experience.  Whilst delightfully tongue in cheek, these reports are also very insightful and do get used by people thinking of visiting the churches concerned (hard to believe it is more than four years now since I read the one on the Gathering Place).

    This summer, as part of my sabbatical, I have identified a number of Glasgow Baptist churches I want to visit, kind of incognito (many of the ministers should know who I am, but otherwise I am generally only a name they prayed for when I was undergoing cnacer treatment and have probably forgotten about).  So before I head off this morning, I guess I ought to think up some questions - or topics -I want to think about!

    • There has to be something about welcome - what is said, how it is said and how it feels.
    • Something about how easy or difficult it is to know what is going on - when to stand/sit, what to do, etc.
    • Something about the liturgical process - do we gather, praise, confess, listen, intercede, scatter, etc.
    • Something purely practical, logistical - space to sit and put my stuff, comfort of seat, can I see and hear, can I understand
    • Do I actually feel I have been in worship?  Not 'was it warm and fuzzy' or 'still and relaxing' or 'vibrant and energising' but 'did I in some way, however tiny, sense I was in the presence of God'?
    • And maybe a few flippant things - such as how does the coffee and cake compare with ours?!  And maybe the Ship of Fools 'what felt like heaven' and 'what felt like the other place'!!

    Report Numero Uno will be made later today... see if you can guess where I've been!

     

  • Only in Glasgow! And Other Nonsense.

    Today, as it is the first Saturday of my sabbatical, I took myself out for lunch, to a nearby pizzeria I have been meaning to visit for a long time now.  It was ridiculously quiet in there (i.e. just me and four staff until just before I left when two couples arrived) but the service was good and the food tasty.

    I opted for the "Andy Murray Pizza" - well you have to, don't you?  A thin base topped with Scottish cheddar (should really be Dunlop, but I'll let them off), haggis, sliced tatties, wild mushrooms and fresh rosemary.  Carbs on carbs... yup, only in Glasgow.  It was tasty and a bit of fun.

    I have bene "not watching" most of Andy Murray's games, as it seems he plays better when I don't watch.  I know he does not know whether or not I am watching, but chaos theory just might mean it makes a difference... and I wouldn't want to be blamed for him losing!

    It has been a very lazy week 1 of my sabbatical, and to be honest I will be glad next week to start to focus on the things I have chosen to explore... visits to Stirling and Bath in prospect.

  • Church Websites "1:01"

    Today I have just been checking service times for the Baptist churches in Glasgow I plan to visit during my sabbatical.  I has been quite salutary - in some websites I had to drill down to the thrid or fourth level before I found this information.   Some churches don't have websites, which makes it increasingly difficult to find out this information, short of phoning them up - something I can do only because I have access to the BUS Directory - and frankly I don't intend to.  Some churches have very whizzy websites with so much stuff it is bewildering and hard to know where to look for what you want.

    So, church websites 1:10

    Tell people WHO you are WHERE you are and WHEN your services are... the rest can be added later.

    It's not rocket science!  If I were new to the area and looking for a church I would probably give up looking pretty quickly if something as basic as 'Sunday Service Times' wasn't on the front page or at least clearly signposted from it at one level down.

    So I checked our website - the information is all there, and most is easily findable... but we could make the service time information more prominent (i.e. part of the 'permanent' rather than 'current month' text).  If sabbaticalling is supposed to make me step back and reflect or to look at things afresh, then this week this has been the thing to keep in mind.

    It's been odd basically trying to slow down with no actual objectives to achieve - and I'm not sure I've used the time the best I could have done - and to be honest I will happy next week to begin some more focussed sabbatical work, with a sermon to write and two church visits in prospect.

  • No Favourites

    Today has seen the news that Bernadette Nolan died of secondary breast cancer... news that had been inevitable for some time now, but is no less sad in consequence.  At 52 years of age she was still 'young' in the cancer world, and diagnosed just a few months before I was, her story, as told publicly via women's magazines, was one I found helpful as I began my own treatment 'journey'.  I am lucky, fortunate, blessed, whatever the word is, enough that, as far as anyone knows, I am still NED, that my surgeon when he saw me in February decided he could reduce the frequency of my check-ups to annual, but, for me anyway, there is always a lingering shadow cast by the crab who has no favourites.

    In case any one wonders, my cancer was different from Bernadette Nolan's - hers was HER2+, mine was HER2-; mine was ER+, PR+, hers I have no idea.  I say this partly because it isn't always obvious the breast cancer is the collective name for a whole range of horrible diseases, and that actually, by luck I got the 'least bad' version albeit in the 'most bad' primary form. 

    Over the last three years (or just under) I realise that I have got to know something like a hundred other women with breast cancer, to a lesser or great degree, many of whom I now count as friends, and too many of whom have had their lives stolen by this cruel disease.  Were any demonstration needed that cancer has no favourites, that it is remarkably egalitarian (or equally indiscriminate) these people are it... aged from their twenties to their nineties, career girls and young mums to grandmothers, dinner ladies to doctors, Asian and British, Christians, agnostics and atheists, wealthy and living on benefits, healthy and with numerous underlying health conditions... 

    This crab has no favourites, and the 'risk factors' don't seem to count for much, it simply sneaks up and grabs whomsoever it wills in its pincers.

    One of the most influential theology books I ever read was called Our God Has No Favourites and was an exploration of Eucharistic practice which deny this truth.  I am glad that God has no favourites, glad that it grieves God as much whoever it is who falls prey to the crab's clutches.   I am glad, obviously, that so far my story is a good one, a hopeful, hipe-filled one, but I am also glad that God is not a capricious deity who will favour my attempted piety over another's authentic agnosticism.

    Today I will pray for the Nolans, whose grief must be lived in the glare of the media, and for those who slip away unobserved in a busy hospital ward with a nurse for company.  I will pray for the researchers and doctors, for hospices and support organisations.  And I will pray for the 125 people in the UK who, today, discover that they, too are part of this club no one wants to join.

     

     

    RIP Berndatte Nolan, and everyone else who has, this day, entered eternity