Last evening was absolutely wonderful.  Thirteen of us gathered around my kitchen table sharing food, friendship, story and song.  Seven British (six Scots, one English). Six Iranians. Food from Britain and the Middle East (and, strictly speaking, beyond). Conversations that explored deeply church customs and scriptural record.

As my guests, as requested, left in silence, one of them, B, aged 8, turned to me, smiled and said, "thank you for a great evening".

Reward enough, were any needed.

As I cleared away left-over food (most to the fridge and freezer, a small amount straight to the bin), switched on the dishwasher, stacked the remaining crocks to wash this morning, stripped the table and returned chairs to their rightful homes, I smiled to myself and wondered, 'who washed up after the Last Supper?'

Given it was a guest room, it seems quite likely that it was the home owner, or failing that some of the women who had followed the Jesus entourage... we don't know who else, apart from the thirteen, was there, but almost certainly at least one woman to light the candles, and servants to carry in the meal.

Whoever it was, they had no idea what was going on outside. They may - or may not - have been privvy to what had taken place, may or may not have noticed Judas slip away early, or heard Jesus speak strange, new words.  They simply gathered platters and cups, cleared away scraps, swept the floor and, when all was done, took their rest.

I am glad that I have had the space and time to deal with the mundane clearing up after the feast (a great evening!) not knowing what my guests went on to do, because it takes me to a place of unknowing.  It slows down the relentless march toward Calvary, denies me insights to the Sanhedrin or Pilate's court, and leaves me suitably unprepared for what today will bring.

I am grateful to E, A, A, E, B & B who have helped me see with new eyes what it is we are remembering. 

And I am grateful to A, B, M, J, A & W who shared their insights, love and faith with our new friends.

I tried to think of a good sentence to close this post, and I couldn't, so, as at the end of yesterday's meal, we leave in silence.....................................

Sasha inspecting the table ahead of this evening's meal.

This evening, by fluke or divine inspiration or something, I have a dozen guests joining me for a 'Supper in the Shadows'.

It's a sort of blend of a Passvoer Seder with a Tenebrae Service.

I like that there will be thirteen of us - and of course a place for Elijah, if he shows up.

I like that there will be adults and children.

I like that there are people for whom this is not totally new, and others for whom it is absolutely new.

I like that I get to exercise hospitality, cook new recipes, cheat and buy ready made things I only need to heat, and share with others on this night of nights.

I am humbled that around my table will be people who have experienced the reality of clandestine meetings and the real fear of betrayal or arrest for their disicpleship of Christ.

I am humbled that around my table will be people from different walks of life, different nationalities, different political opinions and so on.

I am humbled that, in some measure, God will touch each and every one of us, whether through a word, a song, a symbol, or a spoonful of stawberries and cream!

So, it's officially two weeks into my wean-off period and time to decide whether to stick at alternate days for another week, or move down to every third day.

I've opted to stick for another week or two for a couple of reasons...

• the transition effects are now wearing off, so there is little nausea, less intense nightmares and fewer (though no less intense) flushes.
• it's Holy Week, and I don't want to risk the resurrection of the Monster in a busy and demanding season of the church year.

Overall, I am fine, liking the non-drug days better than the drug ones, and, except where justified, not irritable.  So at least one more week of alternate days and then a further reduction in planned.

Watch this space!! 

Bit of a pause from posting, as I've been in Englandshire interviewing people who are exploring calls to ordained Baptist ministry.  So, late in the day, a post about our Palm Sunday service.

Just before the service began, I commented to someone that things were a bit chaotic, to which they replied with title quote, 'just another typical Palm Sunday at the Gathering Place'.

It made me smile, and it gave me pause.

In the end it was a wonderful service.  One of our 20-somethings had written the script for the story-telling, and another sang 'I Don't Know how to Love Him' as the culmination of the 'anointing at Bethany' scene.

The hotel room doesn't have a sufficiently high ceiling for us to erect a cross, so we used a horizontal one, around which emblems of the story were arranged.

As the strains of John 19:42 died away, you could have heard a pin drop.

Another typical Palm Sunday?  I looked back recently at the first Palm Sunday and Easter services I led here... straight forward preaching services, with children and YP going into Sunday School at the usual place; a cross was erected at the end of the Palm Sunday service, but otherwise nothing multi-sensory.  Somewhere along the line, an all age experiment morphed into a tradition, and now this is what we do on Palm Sunday.

Thanks to E for her scripts, C for her solo, P for the music, K for the photo - and all who participated in making it what it was.