No, I haven't lost my rag and decided to swear at my PC, or the world, it is one of the titles used by one of the speakers at today's Small Churches day at Didcot.  The logic was, as I recall it, the Greek word for 'witness' (noun) is, in anglicised form, 'martyr', and martyrs as we think of them are people who shed their blood for their cause, so mission is about witnessing, about shedding blood, about bleeding (at least metaphorically) in the cause of the Kingdom.

In one sense, today didn't tell me anything new: I am now an experienced small church minister, I know the centrality of mission, of knowing and understanding your community, have preached til I'm blue in the face about mission as the reason the church exists...  I know about the limits and opportunities of being a small church, I know about the tensions, I know where the BUC guidelines are and even have most of the books they showed us (though for some reason were not selling the Toolbox for Small Churches).  The best part for me was the presentation of the ideas for moving Home Mission forward in ways that will make the whole thing more effective - though it will be some time before that is able to find expression because of the necessary wheels grinding their way forward.

This is the passage that I wish had been used in the opening worship session...

As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brither Andrew.  They were casting a net into the lake, for the were fishermen.  "Come, follow me, " Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men and women,"  At once they left their nets and followed him.  (Matt: 4: 18-20, NIVi)

What was used was, granted, a more pedantically correct translation of the Greek, but not the intent... and when we are supposedly a fully inclusive communiity (discuss!) and when we want to attract people who have not grown up with gendered langauge as 'normative' it is time we - and especially those in corridors of power - got our heads around this issue.   Ten years ago I'd never have believed I'd be a strong advocate of inclusive language... but then this time ten years ago I was still a few days from hearing God call me to ordained ministry - a lot's happened since then.

Yesterday I was involved in some Association work where we picked out as key issues topics of small and tiny churches, women ministers and the multi-racial, mutli-cultural, multi-faith dimension of working in our part of our Association.  Bleeding mission - being sacrificial witnesses to the Good News of Jesus is a massive task.  In some ways I feel that EMBA is small church writ large - compare our geographical area, membership and staffing levels with other Associations and you see what I mean.

It has been a good, if tiring, couple of days, and it doesn't get any easier from here to Christmas.  We were reminded today that at Christmas we recall how God does small, weak and vulnerable - a baby born to a couple far from home; how God speaks through people outside the 'church' and outside our faith - shepherds and magi; how mission is risky - Herod's massacre, Jesus, Mary & Joseph exile to Egypt; etc etc. 

I think, on balance, it was a worthwhile day, a good two days, in which I have begun to see more clearly some of what God might be saying to me about my role in the Missio Dei - the mission of God - in Dibley, Leciestershire, EMBA and the ends of BUGB! 

I was chatting with my lunchtime pray-ers today about the endeavours of some to re-establish a church prayer meeting, which is looking like it might happen, if at all, either in an evening or on a Saturday morning.  None of them would go to either meeting - some are very old and don't go out after dark, for others Saturday is either shopping or family time.  I asked about lunch times - and they were enthusiastic - they like the half hour of stillness followed by food that we share 10 times a year.  So, foolishly, I have just emailed my deacons to suggest we add another 12 lunchtime prayer meetings a year, one a month, and offering to host alternate months.  Maybe the butternut squash and pumpkin soup has gone to my head, but in an older congregation where loneliness is a real issue and where people living alone may opt for a slice of toast rather than a proper meal, it seems that twin needs of pastoral care and spiritual nurture can be successfully blended without the poor old minister needing yet another evening out.

We will see what happens.  Unless other people are willing to host six out of the twelve meetings, I won't pursue it.  But it has promise, I feel.

Sometimes, in my more cynical moments, I think that English Baptists understand this as 'rehearse this by having a Sunday roast at home.'   Whilst I have a few friends who do indeed practice hospitality, who do welcome strangers, who do feed people who are hungry and who do embrace people who are lonely, they are the exception rather than the rule.

For four years I have tried to model something of practising hospitality - having open house, feeding those happened to be around at meal times, and most specifically by providing space to pray and eat in Lent and Advent.  Because of the nature of my congregation, this has meant making endless pots of homemade soup - early on it was made very clear to me that this was no great ask (even though at church events we got watered down packet soup).  Whilst at times it has felt a chore, my trusty slow cookers have ensured there was always piping hot broth on offer - usally some weird concoction I invented from what was in the cupboard.  We've had some lovely times together and with the money raised supported among others Christian Aid, TLM, HMF, BMS and one time we bought a water pump for an African village.

Something has finally clicked somewhere... on Sunday someone gave me a cake for today's lunchtime Advent group (yes I know we're early, it's all to do with how the Tuesdays land this year) and yesterday someone rang to offer to make some soup or a stew for another week.

Practice hospitality... cast your bread upon the waters, and after many days it will return as buttered toast - as a woman at a bus stop once said to my mother.

Last week the lights in the manse living room went 'phutt' fairly spectacularly, blowing all the bulbs at once.  On Thursday a nice man installed a new switch in the livining room - the lights that had been dim and flickery for four years (to my knowledge) suddenly beamed brightly.  This morning he returned to replace the defunct striplight in the kitchen - the state of the wiring was scary but we made a good team and now, after two hours I have a shiny new light that works - so well I can now see to wash up, rats.

The minister who lived in darkness has seen great light, on she who dwelled in the land of darkness light has dawned... with apologies to Isaiah of course.  I think what struck me was that you don't recognise dinginess or darkness until it's displaced by light; that and you don't appreciate even flawed light until it fails.  Wonder what that might say about faith or mission...?

Yesterday we had a visiting preacher, someone exploring a call to ordained ministry who needs some preaching experience, who has never, as yet, taken a full service and who baulked at the idea of doing so for us (this time... when she comes back she will).  Listening to her speak, watching her anxiety and earnest endeavours took me back a long way!  It would be easy to find fault with her sermon, it had all the classic beginners' features - too many ideas, too many out of context quotations from other parts of the Bible, too many metaphors (dogs, vines, rosebushes, tomatoes...) but what she offered was carefully and prayerfully delivered.  I almost envied her the simple, assured message she brought, but only almost, I don't regret the challenges and questions I've faced since studying theology which have given me a deeper, more reflective faith.  I also recalled the naivety of that exploration phase - just as well I didn't know I'd end up doing what I'm doing, which is a world away from the occasional Sunday preach...  This lady has a long journey ahead of her, and is probably in for some surprises along the way, but I wish her well as she seeks to offer her life in the service of Christ's church.

In the evening I was preaching for the Penties.  Having been involved in the civic switching on of lights events the day before, they were all very tired, but as ever very gracious and accepted what I had to say (although there was some dispute over whether Jesus was more likely to have been born in Spring or Autumn - check the web you can argue either or both!)  What struck me was how little they understand scriptures they think they know.  In my overview of Advent, one of my readings was Malachi 3: 1 - 4.  I asked them who they thought it referred to.... 'Jesus' came the answer (thinks... jokes about penguins etc) when to me it was self evident that the Christian answer (and the Matthean one too) would by John the Baptist.  The idea that it also had a meaning, and referrent, in its own time seemed to pass people by.  I'm certainly not knocking them, they are good, hardworking, sincere people; I just wonder if all the note taking they do in sermons actually helps or hinders.

I quite like the 'hit and run' nature of visiting preaching, and find it a very different experience from the regular Sunday by Sunday, but I have to admit that, for all its frustrations, the regular week by week speaking into the lives of a congregation and individuals what I believe God wants them to hear is more rewarding - even if you get fewer compliments and more brickbats!