At the end of the Baptist Assembly #bap16 we were each invited to take home a randomly allocated 'flame of prayer' so that we could pray for each other's churches.  Most flames were completely anonymous, so I am posting a photo of this one that made it as far as Glasgow!!

I wonder who got ours, and will be praying for us.

I am sitting on a train that I suspect once bore an InterCity logo, travelling north up the East Coast main line towards Edinburgh on my way back from a weekend spent in Watford and Oxford.

I has been a really good weekend, meeting old and new friends, catching up on Baptist life in England and Wales, being inspired and indignant in appropriate proportions, and feeling that it was time very well spent.

The extended reflection on the Refugee situation in Syria, in Calais, in parts of Africa and elsewhere, with first hand reports by Baptists in Essex/Kent was one of those rare sessions where you could hear a pin drop.  Challenging and inspiring, without inducing guilt and without twee answers to complicated questions.

The all too short address by Didi Oprenov was gentle, moving and encouraging.  All too rare for me to wish a speaker at Assembly had been given more time, but on this occasion I absolutely do.

The packed lunch was especially high quality this year, which was as well as I stood in a queue for over 30 minutes to collect it!  One danger of one day Assemblies is that the centres never quite get up to speed with logistics.

A very special mention has to go to Rev Stephen Keyworth for his gracious and honest update on responses to the recent statement from BUGB Council on SSM that had caused widespread disquiet.  I loved his phrase that it is "blatantly obvious" that we do not all agree on this matter and that we have a long way to go in learning to live together as the reconciled diversity (my words) we are called to be.  It was amazing to see people wearing elephant badges, bringing elephant flames and saying "we are not afraid to talk about this" - whatever our views for or against (the herd is a reconciled diversity in its own right).  I hope this was a step forward in Baptistness.

I loved the return of the 'proper' In Memoriam, and it was humbling and beautiful to say the name of former missionary from The Gathering Place appear on the screen.  I am fairly sure it was David Kerrigan who read it out (I was too busy taking an illegal - and out of focus - photo of it to be sure) which was fitting.  The handshaking was OK, still felt a little less than I'd have hoped, but maybe I'm getting old... The commissioning liturgy was lovely.

The irritations were the usual ones, and doubly annoying because I felt we had moved on... a racist joke (hopefully a careless ad lib) from the front, and a return to exclusive language in hymns/songs.  On a much more positive note, my one contribution to church language where we invite (rather than tell) people to "stand if they are able" finally found full expression... which proves that good practice does eventually rub off!

This morning I preached at a small church in Watford, home of a minister friend.  It was lovely to see her in context, to observe her flourishing in ministry and clearly loved by her people. It was a privilege to bring a message for Pentecost Sunday and I hope it was a little bit encouraging.  Above all it was a visible expression of the 'tie that binds' Baptists of diverse preferences in our shared commitment to speak and be Good News where we are

Now I am on my way back home, tired and happy - which has to be good.  Thank you to everyone behind the scenes at the BUGB/BMS Assembly, it has been good to be there, and well worth the 800 miles round trip for one day :-)

Heading south to meet with a the wonderful diversity of people that together are the Baptist Union of Great Britain.

At our best, Baptists are a very broad church, delighting in diversity, and able to admit that, however hard-won and honestly-held our views, we just might be wrong.

Over many years I have travelled a huge journey in understanding many aspects of faith, theology and ethics.  Today I am choosing to declare myself as one of an increasing number of Baptists who are #notafraidofelephants and who are willing to learn with and from each other in a way that is open, gracious and for many accepting or/and affirming.

As an acredited Baptist minister in covenant with two Unions, I continue to accept the discipline of those Unions on matters of faith and practice,  and I seek to remain in relationship with those whose equally honestly held understandings differ from my own... there is always the possibility that I may be wrong.

There's a herd a-gathering, and it's good to be part of it.

Life is more than a little bit bonkers at the moment. 

Tomorrow morning I will jump on a train and head south for the English Baptist Assembly in Oxford, staying with a minister friend in Watford and doing a guest preach on Sunday before heading back north.  I am looking forward to catching up with Baptist friends from around England and Wales, and indeed the small number of others who travel from Scotland to participate in this event.  I am keen to see how the experimental format pans out this time - I was pleasantly surprised last year.  I may even break the rules and sneak a photo of one name on the In Memoriam as she was one of 'ours', a retired former missionary... hopefully I can be forgiven!

Pentecost weekend is a great time to be meeting together, remembering not the fleeting supernatural understanding or the euphoria, but rather the lasting change in the lives of previously fearful men (and women) who found themselves empowered, encouraged and inspired for mission and ministry.

If it's Thursday, then I must be sure I have everything sorted ready! The sermon is wirtten, the tickets are bought... just the bag to pack and I'm good to go.

If you 'do' Twitter then #bap16 will lead you to whatever is being posted, otherwise, I will report back in due course!

Have a good weekend, and may God's Spirit comfort or distrub you as is needful at this time.

... someone will take you by the hand and lead you where you do not want to go (the end of John's gospel, too lazy to look up chapter and verse)

This evening I researched and ordered some woven name tags to stitch into my Mum's clothes in the hope that they don't all disappear at the nursing home to which she has moved. 

It felt very strange to be doing something for her that she oculd never have afforded to do for us when we were growing up - we used to take a biro and write our names on the clothing labels or inside the collar of shirts, and have to repeat it at regualr intervals as it soon washed out.

But more it is strange that the roles are reversed, that now I am the one (with my sibs) making choices on her behalf.  Even down to the way her name is embroidered on 144 name tags that I will then need to sew into her clothes (Black, sans serif, not block capitals).

Strange to be cancelling her digital TV subscription, her telephone contract and knowing there are many more still to be done in the days and weeks ahead.

It feels very weird, and whilst I suppose there is some sort of privilege and some sort of expectation/duty there, I am not quite sure how I am meant to feel about it. Stream of consciousness follows...

This is my Mum, the person within whose womb I was conceived

My Mum, at whose breast I suckled

Who bathed and clothed me when I could do nothing for myself.

This is my Mum, the person who taught me to walk and to talk

My Mum, who allowed me, aged five, to take her favourite blue glass jug to the school jumble sale (and it was gone before she could arrive to buy it back)

Who listened to my reading, my tables, my spellings, encouraging me to excel wherever I could.

This is my Mum, the person who went without so that I didn't

My Mum who baked a birthday cake shaped like a cottage, took me to piano lessons and failed to teach me knit!

Whose help was the cause of my one diastrous French homework, who steered me to subjects that should lead to employment.

This my Mum, who never understood why I left it all to follow a call to ministry

My Mum, who proudly spoke of her daughter, the engineer, the minister

Who cheered from the sidelines as best she could, worried, cajoled, and, yes, criticised.

This is my Mum, a widow for over a quarter century, many of whose friends have slipped away through death

My Mum who now finds her memory fading, time collapsing in on itself, independence stolen

Who must depend on those she nurtured to step up and care for her.

This is my Mum, who has grown old

Has been taken by the hand and led where she did not want to go.

Whom I love, and whom cannot protect from the inevitability of old age and frailty

The circle spins round, carer becomes cared for, child becomes as parent

This is my Mum...

God help me to be the daughter of whom she dreamed all those years ago.