Two Sundays ago we made mosaic crosses as our response/prayer after the reflection on the conversion of Saul/Paul (or Titch of Tarsus as I renamed him).

I finally remembered to bring my camera at a time when the hall was empty, so that I could photograph them in situ... they now hang on our noticeboards where they can be enjoyed by any who pause to read them.

We made two.  One is above, the other is here:

I took this photo a week ago on a visit to a building called The Lighthouse in central Glasgow.  I took it from the top of a sprial staircase (I think it was 132 steps) just as someone else was taking a photo looking up.  Roughly half way up/down is the friend who was visiting me.

My final reflection in yesterday's evening service used this metaphor - one I find helpful for theolgoical reflection, for thinking about faith development and for life itself.

So here, lifted from my script, is what I said...

I like to imagine myself as the person on the staircase, travelling a one way journey through time (usually I see it was upwards but I don’t think the direction is important).  The trajectory is a spiral, reflecting the cyclic flow of season and years, with familiar markers such as birthdays or anniversaries, but always, always moving onwards, and never able to go back.

At the start, looking up, the journey head cannot be seen, at least beyond the first bend, and it appears enormous.  During the ascent it is possible to pause, to find oneself in a place that is both familiar and unfamiliar – immediately above a significant landmark, and, now, looking back down seeing it differently from a new perspective.  And one can look upwards, seeing that there are more uncharted spirals ahead, realising that the very real present moment will take on a different perspective when at some future point, it is viewed retrospectively.

We can only ever see from where we are now, a mixture of looking back at what once was so incredibly intense and now is dimmed and softened by distance; and looking forward perhaps catching glimpses of possibilities but thankfully unaware of what actually might lie ahead.

Sometimes it is only this looking backwards that enables us to detect the hints of God being at work in the situations that prompted our questions or doubts.  Sometimes it is only retrospectively that we can make any kind of meaning, recognise the moments of goodness or the signs of hope.  Sometimes, in the reality of dark and frightening present realities, it is these backward glances that give us the courage to take the next step, trusting that the God who shared with us in the past still does so.

As I near my five year anniversary of diagnosis, I can look back and see how far I have come, grateful for those who have shared that journey, and I can look forward, albeit with chastened optimism and realistic expectations, to a future in which God will continue to work with me for good.

My prayer for all us of is that God will continue to work with us in our personal quests for meaning.

The last three Sunday evenings, it has been my turn to lead the joint services, and I decided to take the opportunity to share some reflections that had arisen from my experiences of being diagnosed with, treated for and living with, through and (thus far at least) beyond cancer.

Week 1 the title was "Within Our Darkest Night" and was a trio of reflections of the last verse of 1 Corinthians 12 - these three remain, faith, hope and love.  But what does that mean in the 'valley of the shadow' or the 'dark night of the soul'?  I chose to explore these themes 'in apophatic perspective' - the 'via negativa' saying more what they are not than what they are.

Week 2 the title was "God's Living Likeness Still We Bear" (Brian Wren and a bit of Genesis 1) and was broadly on the topic of identity and self-esteem, specifically in the light of altered body image due to surgery or injury, visible and invisible conditions, and all of this compared with my favourite resurrection image of Jesus - his nail scarred hands.

Week 3 the title was "In All Things God Works" (Romans 8) and included a bit of theodicy as well as exploration of what it might mean to make meaning in situations where the answer to our 'why' questions will never be found.

All three were well received, and even if it was exhausting, it was also exhilerating in a way, not "whoopee doo" exhilerating but that sense of a job well done.

I've had a couple of requests for the texts, and I am pondering the possibility of posting them here... however that needs some careful thought as out of context, and without tone of voice and facial expression, they may 'sound' different.  So maybe I will, and maybe I won't... but I will find a way to get them to those who have asked me directly.

This morning we used "pray dough" - people were invited to take a ball of homemade play dough (essentially stove top salt dough) and use it in some way to express their prayers.  They were also invited, if they wished, to lay their prayers around the cross... and as you can see many, maybe most, did so.

Really interesting shapes and expressions of prayer - and really wonderful that so many felt able to join in.

Photo courtesy of Ian Sinclair.

Our seven week long experiment with a 'zones' model of all age worship reaches its penultimate expression tomorrow.  Whilst it hasn't been everyone's worship style of choice, people have very graciously stuck at it and done their best to engage with it.

It has been a lot of work for me, partly because I've opted to work alone rather than delegating or sharing responsibilities with others.  Though as any one who has done so knows, it is often a lot easier to do it all yourself even if ultimately not the 'better way'.

This morning I have been preparing the interactive prayer element for tomorrow, for which a hint is given in the photo.  This involved experimenting with different recipes and methods which are allegedly better than my 'go to' approach... we will see tomorrow if it makes any different whatesoever!

As the summer series nears its close, and having also prepared the last of my three evening services, it has, for me, been good.  I feel more energised and engaged than I have for a long time.  This is not a criticism of anyone or anything else, just how it feels for me.

It will be strange to revert to 'normal services' in the autumn, although we have several exciting things to share which preclude too much routine, at least for a while.  I like routine too, I need order and structure to thrive.  It has been good, though to have the freedom to release my creative side a little more, and I hope that, overall, it has been a positive experience for those who have shared the experiment.

I have learned a lot this summer, gained deeper understanding of what it means to be a church for all ages, and along the way had a lot of fun.  For all of this, I am truly grateful.