Today  was marking some essays - the very first time ever, which felt quite daunting.

In one of the essays was a quotation that clearly had words missing, so I dug out my copy of the book form the shelf, and checked it... that made me feel strangely grown up and like a proper teacher person.  The essay itself was fine, so it wasn't a big deal, and at least the reference itself was complete.

Small things, pleasing my minuscule brain, or some such.  At least I am now a little less anxious about marking formal academic stuff that needs a score not just pass/fail.

Today was my turn to lead worship at college.  Strangely, the Lectionary landed at some of my favourite/most significant Bible passages (Jacob at the Jabbok, and Paul's Charge to Timothy), so it was a great excuse to pull out some of my favourite artefacts for the table as a 'centre-piece' as well as singing some hymns I really love.

This one, to the tune 'Scarlet Ribbons' was new to me, but seemed really fitting for the context...

Bring your questions, bring your feelings,
bring the things you think you’ve learned.
Here, with God, let’s search for meaning,
in encounter with God’s Word.
By these texts and their retelling,
heard through all we bring today,
may God grant fresh understanding
of the role we’re called to play.

John Campbell © 2016 Kevin Mayhew Ltd

I enjoyed leading today, and received some positive feedback from people who were there, which is always encouraging.

What place connects these clues...

'The Flying Kipper' an episode of Thomas and Friends

A limerick spoken by Roald Dahl's Matilda

'The ultimate reality' according to Alan Garner

Where 'a silly girl' was being taken, according to Marie Lloyd

A real life crater on Mars

The lectionary for today seemed to invite a reflection on what it means to pray for the city (town) (Jeremiah)  and who are the 'foreigners' whose actions gives us pause (Jesus and the ten lepers in Luke).  So I was wondering what that mean in this town, that is less than two hundred years old, was once right at the forefront of a technological innovation (rail travel), is the place where people of more than 30 nationalities now live, with roughly 1 in 10 not being born in the UK; where notionally two thirds of people are Christian, around thirty percent claim to have no faith and there are small, but numerically significant, groups of Jews, Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists.

What does it mean to listen to the 'foreigners' the people who don't look like think like, or believe like us?  What does it mean to pray for this place, and how do our lives express those prayers?

I am not sure that the 'sermon' 'landed' (though the Thomas the Tank Engine video went down well!) but it certainly gave me plenty to ponder in the preparation. 

Yesterday I was in London with a colleague leading an induction day for three ministerial students who have transferred to us following the sudden and sad closure of Spurgeon's at the end of July.  I think we had a good day - it was certainly very full and we covered a lot of ground together.

We met in a central London church which has great facilities, including a room with adjacent kitchen/dining area where we could make refreshments and have lunch.  When I was decanting the contents of my shopping trolley into the fridge, I stumbled across not one but two pots of 'devil's dressing' which caused me, and everyone else much mirth.

Definitely an unusual find in a church fridge!

++Sarah Mullally, the first woman to be Archbishop of Canterbury... should I send her an Offensive (TM) Tee-shirt?  Might it be the case that in 2025 people have moved on from 2009 - I'd like to think so but somehow I doubt it, and she is, after all, on a global stage not the tiny one of the BUS. 

If praying be your thing, then please do - it can be a lonely place being a 'first women to be...' there can be lot of (perhaps self-imposed) pressure not to mess up, not to 'queer the pitch' for those who come after you... there can be cruel words spoken, and blatant 'blanking' that you have to shrug off, at least in public... 

I remain bemused that I am official Baptist history (after all I was a mere 46 years old back then) as well as both amused and slightly miffed at the miss-telling of my story (my surname has been 'corrected' (changed to Gordon)), assumptions have been made about my theology, my ecclesiology, and even why I moved south (you know, that God-person really does call people to move sometimes...).

I rejoice that after all these years, and they are many, the good bits are still better than I ever dare expect (even if the bad bits are so much worse than I ever fear), that the good outweighs the bad, and God still surprises me with wonderful 'hmmm' moments.