Today I am doing my impression of a Methodist minister... or, to put it another way, wearing what I wear when I attend the kind of events that say 'clergy to robe'.... my 'not quite bishop coloured' clerical shirt, with my 'I don't have a cassock or robes' suit.  Scarily, I realise that the suit is now getting on for twenty years old (I bought it when I was in Dibley, and I left there nearly 17 years ago) and the shirt probably the better part of a decade.

Today, I am standing in for colleague who is ill, preaching this morning at a joint service of our two churches on the theme of 'Temptations' and in the afternoon at the Civic Service on the theme of 'Inclusion' (as well as being the lead/host minister - the posh programmes were printed well in advance, so my first task is to say who I am not!!).

It is a privilege to be permitted to take part in civic events, and there are times when dressing up is absolutely the right thing to do.  Today we will celebrate the Town Mayor (a devout Methodist) and pray for this town.

Yesterday was Transfiguration Sunday... the Sunday before Lent begins... and so we spent a little bit of time thinking about Lent, and Lenten practices, before I led a narrative reflection on the Transfiguration story, as told in Matthew.

It was - for me anyway - a lovely service, full of precious moments as well as some fun.

We talked about Shrove Tuesday, and about pancakes, then shared some made by that nice Mr Morrison and warmed in the church microwave (thank you J).

We talked about Ash Wednesday, and received palm crosses, before being offered the sign of the cross in ash on the back of our hands.  This for me was incredibly meaningful, as I drew crosses on skin from old to young, palest white to almost black and all shades in between.

We walked with Peter, James and John from the feeding of the five thousand right through to the downward journey from the mount of Transfiguration.  And we were gifted a holding cross to carry with us... a pastoral re-imagining of 'take up your cross daily' not as a call to share in the suffering of Christ, but Christ sharing in our own.

It's a strange thing, being appointed to serve a church for a fixed term of three years, strange to prepare for all the major festivals knowing that this is the last time we will share them together.  But it is also, somehow or other, a helpful awareness entering Lent.  I am not convinced that Jesus knew the date of his death way ahead of time, but he knew that his life had shifted into its final phase, that there were 'lasts' ahead, and that what he did in his time with his followers was especially important.  For me, the questions that occupy my mind are around how to best employ the remaining months with Railway Town Baptist Church, so that when the time to go arrives (and I do know that date) we can all look back and say we walked together, with God, as well as we could.     

One of the realities of college life is that there are a lot of words... classes, tutorials and, of course, worship.  Sometimes we get worded-out, or at least I do.  Sometimes what I need is not more words but more silence, more slowing down (yes, really), more stillness...

On Tuesday I was loosely overseeing our 'Worship for Well-being' along with two other tutors, which was - loosely, very loosely - linked to the lectionary readings for the Transfiguration.

One tutor facilitated a space for singing songs from the world church...

One tutor facilitated a mindful walk...

I facilitated a space for mindful colouring/crafting and slow stitching...

 Slow stitching, like other mindful practices is less about what you create and more about slowing down - something that sewing can facilitate - and allowing our mind to work quietly, going whither it will, opening itself to the whisper of God, or simply emptying itself of clutter.

The photo shows what I achieved, partly on a train ride, partly at college - it's about an hour's worth of slow stitching/sewing, an act of devotion or prayer, a gift to self of time and space to be slower and silenter and stiller (if there such words exist).  And, of course, I have my little piece of craft to keep, to remind myself of whatever it may remind me of... a place, a time, a purpose, a prayer.  

It all seemed to be well received - to give each of us some time and space to be refreshed, renewed, restored by reconnecting with our delight in nature, in music or in craft/art.

As we move into half term, I hope that staff and students will find more spaces and places to focus on their well-being.

Today we invited people to "bring the food you love" for a multicultural bring and share lunch... it was truly wonderful... by far the greatest number of people I have seen stay for a shared meal since I arrived here, and by far the biggest variety of food I have seen in a very long time.

The atmosphere was wonderful... both the buzz of conversation before the food was ready, and the near silence as everyone tucked into good food.

The service beforehand was half decent too!  

Tomorrow at church we are hosting a 'bring and share' with a slight twist... rather than sandwiches and quiches and all things white British, we've invited people to bring the food they love - the food that reflects their home culture, or that they love from another culture.  Disappointingly, no curry goat, even if I wouldn't be eating it, as the maker will be be away for the weekend.  But we are expecting everything from cottage pie to five bean chilli, cauliflower cheese to spring rolls, Indian snacks to egg sandwiches, and all points in between.

I've made a pot of lentil dhal/dahl, and will also be taking along some chips and dips.

I think it will be rather wonderful to mix and match different tastes and textures, and to celebrate being together.