Sunday morning, and we baked bread within the context of worship.  We reflected on a range of ideas (no coherent sermon having emerged!) including...

If Jesus is the 'bread of life' - the staple, carbohydrate, what else do we need for healthy flourishing?  Bread and jam, cheese on toast, roll and sausage... Faith and science, faith and the arts, faith and politics, faith and family etc.

Jesus twice used yeast as a metaphor, once for the kingdom of Good and once as a caution against the attitudes of the Pharisees.  In each one of us both kinds of 'yeast' may be active, so how do we cultivate the good yeast?  And in the post EU referendum context, how are we, indivudually and corporately good yeast?

And communion the breaking of bread as a metaphor for Christ's broken.  If we apply the metaphor of 'Christ's body' to the church, how are we broken - scattered, consumed - for the health (and maybe salvation) of the world of which we are part?

We used this video in lieu of a communion liturgy...

And the bread recipe, just in case anyone wants it...

250g strong plain flour

1 tsp/15g dried yeast

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbsp oil

125ml (probably plus a bit more) carbonated water.

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl.

Add the oil.

Add the water a little at a time, mixing as you go.

Turn out onto a floured board and knead for roughly 6 minutes

Divide into rolls (makes 6-12 dependent on the size)

Brush with a little water if you wish, to help with browning

Back in a hot over 220C for 10-15 minutes

Serve warm with friends and family!

Enjoy.

Photo (c) Brian Muir; faces of minors obscured.

The last week has been, if it is possible, even more bewildering than the one before.

People I have known for years, and who would claim not to have a political bone in their bodies have been signing petitions, sharing gallows humour, fretting and worrying, and so on.

Among those I know, Christian, agnostic or atheist, there has been nothing aggressive or antagonistic, even when some strong views have been expressed.  But the news reports tell a very different story.

There is no doubt - if the experts are to be trusted, and in my view, usually they are - that we are in a mess. 

In trying hard not to blame - even though there has to be acceptance of responsibility and there will be consequences - I also choose to forgive.

How can I not - at the heart of Christianity is forgiveness, a God of endless second chances, a God who enters the mess we make and works with us to transform it, if only we will cooperate.

Forgiving doesn't say that what happened doesn't matter.  And it doesn't say that there are no consequences.  It says that despite everything I choose to hope, I choose to work for reconciliation, I choose to seek the good.

And 70 x 7 - so many times that I lose count?  At one extreme, that risks a fatalistic, doormat, victim mentality that allows itself abused because self-worth has been eroded.  At another, it trivialises the seriousness of the sin, implying that it is acceptable.  Surely the basis for endless forgiving is linked to a commitment to change - to name what is wrong and to work to repair or remake or reimagine an alternative.

Not enough to say "I forgive you" - though it is a vital place to start.  Forgiveness demands action on both sides if it is be more than mere tokenism.

Forgiveness is not a moment, it's a process - which maybe why the 70 x 7 is needful... because we are all flawed and failing, and even at our best will continue to stumble and fall, or to trip up others along the way.

God of endless forgiveness

Who pardons all who truly repent

Have mercy on me, a sinner

Amen

This afternoon I am looking at possible hymns for next week (it's the way I work!) and I came across this, which seems to speak into a troubled, disordered and sad world...

When our hearts are bruised and broken,
by events along life's way;
when our way of life unravels,
through the trauma of one day;
Lord, you walk amid the darkness,
share our pain and great distress.

When the present crumbles round us,
and our hopes and dreams collapse;
when the way we saw before us
switches to some other tracks;
Lord, you stand and suffer with us,
Jesus crucified with us.

When the light we have is darkness,
and we cannot see the way;
when we're seeking for new signposts,
groping in a world of grey;
Lord your light still shines upon us,
may your blessing rest on us.

While we build another future,
on beyond the pain and tears;
while we walk towards the sunshine,
through the days and months and years;
Lord, the journey lies before us,
may we know that you're with us.

John Forster (born 1944) © John Forster

The unfolding of events in the week since the EU Referendum has been shocking and horrifying with a Westminster government that seems to be in chaos, each side slinging more mud than ever at the other.

Meanwhile those who had no voice in any of this, the many EU nationals who wipe bottoms in care homes, pack strawberries for supermarkets, carry out life saving surgery and teach in our universities, are understandably angry and frightened. 

Xenophobic langauge and attacks.  Lies, damned lies and "expletive deleted" lies are still being peddled by foolish people for whom, it seems, this was all a game, with no thoughts for the consequences.

As a Remain voter (perhaps my past public neutrality, at least on this, was not such a wise thing afterall) I have joined in the straw-clutching exercises of signing petitions and writing to my MP.  Whilst I have little residual hope that this will affect the outcome, at least, for once, I've stood my ground and done something, however little, and however much too late.

I agree with those who say that dilly-dallying is not an option - either work has to start to invoke Article 50 or a clear decision not to act on the referendum made, and soon.  It isn't fair to anyone to do otherwise.  There is a huge work to be done to (re)build a nation with the values it has long espoused.  But when most major parties in Westminster are in such disarray...

So all I want to do is be an ostrich - to hide and hope it all goes away...  All I want is for people to play nicely together and be friends...

As I paused to think which Bible stories might speak to me just now, these came to mind...

There was Elijah in the cave on Mount Horeb, exhausted, bewildered and disillusioned...

There was Moses equally hacked off with the Hebrew people and their repeated failure to learn...

There was Jonah who didn't much fancy what God was calling him to do, so set out in the opposite direction

And there was a small boy with a packed lunch (one of the readings I'm using on Sunday)

I believe that God called me to the ministry I exercise because of who and what I am. 

God called me as someone who doesn't 'do' party politics but who does care about the use of power.

God called me as someone who doesn't really believe in nations or borders, but who accepts that they have practical purposes in a disordered world (I did briefly reflect on the Babel story in the light of recent events but didn't get very far!)

God called me as someone who will always try to forgive, and who cringes whenver anyone says something is 'unforgiveable' even if I know where they are coming from

God called me, fallible and with my foibles, as someone willing to leave the security of the familiar and go elsewhere, taking with me  the good I had discovered and learned along the way

God called me, knowing I'm a wuss, knowing I fear conflict, knowing I forget to pray, knowing that sometimes I just want to run away and hide...

God called me as someone who will cling on, even by her finger nails, to hope, choosing to seek the good in all people, and who will believe that the Kingdom is breaking in despite all appearances to the contrary.

Why am I blurting all this out where anyone can see?  Because I doubt I am unique.  Because emails and texts and PMs on social media tell me that there are others like me who find what I say 'normalises' their experience.  Because maybe someone who is a wuss needs to be a voice for the wusses.

I am sad at the break up of the EU that now seems inevitable.  I am sad at the break up of the UK. Though I cannot be sad, indeed I am glad, for Scotland to have a parliament that works effectively, and for Northern Ireland if it finds a brighter future with other arrangements.  I am sad for Wales, for England, for the little islands still part of the current UK.  I am sad for those who were so down-trodden and disillusioned that they sold their future for a mess of lies.  I am sad for my European friends who arrived on these shores full of hope and now are filled will fear and anger.  

Actually, I am beyond sad.

But I choose hope.

I come out of the cave to listen for God's voice in the silence

I come down from the mountain to dwell among those who seem impossibly slow to learn

I stop running, stop hiding and go where God sends me

I offer my picnic, my signature, my letter, my whispered voice, my tentative response, trusting that somehow God can feed a multitude and answer the prayers I cannot articulate or express.

This photo is from a church meeting after a service held in a hotel conference room a few weeks back.  It's one of the photos we used on Sunday, not that anyone could see them - the sun was so bright the screen was almost invisible!

The "Chiefly Yourselves" songs of praise service seemed to be really well received.  The hymns/songs, selected in advance, spoke eloquently both of our shared values and into the immediate post referendum context.  We laughed at some funny readings, reflected on some serious ones, sang a dozen hymns, prayed the Lord's Prayer and discovered among us "a place where [God's] love is found."

These three short posts record three very different events that took place in under 24 hours.  Two overtly 'sacred' one ostensibly 'secular' yet in each of them, in the making of community, however fleeting and imperfect, a place of holy love was found.