Brenda Namiggade was due to be deported from the UK because, according to the radio news this morning, she could not provide 'credible evidence' of her sexual orientation.  I am left bewildered at what this actually means - what kind of evidence is 'credible' in demonstrating anyone's sexual orientation?

Ms Namiggade says that she is a lesbian, so how is she meant to demosntrate that?  Lust after female security guards?  Dive into bed with every woman she meets?  Dress like a stereotypical lesbian?

Would we expect a heterosexual person to provide credible evidence of their orientation?  Granted, this would not be cause of an asylum request, but even so?  Where does that leave the single, celibate heterosexual?  Not sure I could provide 'credible evidence' in similar circumstances... not sure 'I think so-and-so is really hunky' would count!!

I am at a loss to make sense of this.  I appreciate that superficially it might be an easy claim to make but it is one that is costly if not true (extradition) and if true (long term suspicion and widepsread homophobia).

It kind of reminds me of the old poster that used to be on the walls of many churches - 'if you were arrested for being a Christian would there be enough evidence to convict you?'  The idea being going to church does not a Christian make, nor does saying the right things, it is something about lifestyle.  But what precisely?  It's a sobering thought that if it was us having to seek asylum on religious grounds our lack of 'credible evidence' might be equally compelling.

Today's Baptist Times carries the announcement of the death of a minister who died too young, too soon.  I'm not sure how old Jeff was, but I reckon about my own age.

I met Jeff when we both served on the committee of the Baptist Ministers' Fellowship (BMF), I as area rep for EMBA and he as sector rep for Chaplains.  There was some common ground in that we both trained at Northern (he best part of a decade ahead of me) and that he was chaplain at Northampton General Hospital; at some point he had visited my Mum when she was in hopsital and I am grateful for that, as was she.  More recently Jeff moved to the south coast to take up a chaplaincy role in Taunton.

I knew Jeff had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of years back but had understood all to be going well.

Jeff brought to BMF committee meetings lightness and wisdom, humour and spirituality, important insights from the 'sectors' and a genuine interest in our own pastoral ministries.  He will be missed.

Go in peace, good and faithful servant.

A week from today it will be over - I will wake up having been 'redesigned' the day before and ready to begin the next stage of recovery.

It's kind of strange to imagine part of me being missing (albeit being reconstructed), to imagine scars where now there is smooth, blemish free skin.  There is a certain sadness about that, as well as a kind of relief that the outward, public appearance will be pretty much unaltered.  Odd really.  The thought of the surgeon "drawing on me" is especially weird, and means of course the last time I see the 'whole' (or 'original') me, I will be covered in black ink.

I am glad to say that as the day draws nearer the anxiety levels are diminishing rather than increasing.  I am sure this is the effect of the hundreds and hundreds of prayers that are being said on my behalf; I wonder if God is getting fed up with hearing my name so many times?!  I still don't relish the thought of anaesthesia but the foreboding has evaporated (even despite a few unhelpful comments!).

My house is nearly tidied, the laundry is almost up to date, the perishable foods will soon be eaten up.  A few tasks remain and then all will be ready for my return.

This waiting is all rather weird - feeling pretty healthy, if rather tired from the last few months, and knowing that I have to feel worse before I feel better again.  I still can't imagine the weakness and stiffness I've been promised; maybe that's a good thing.

I will be glad when it is a week from now and it's behind me; not that I am wishing this week gone, anything but, just that the waiting game is a weird 'place' to be right now.  In the meantime it's back to the odd jobs...

Five days to admission, six to surgery, a week to the redesigned future...

I do not understand the nature of wifi... it misbehaves for around twenty four hours then it reverts to good behaviour just after I've purchased a month's worth of mobile broadband... ah well, it may come in useful in the next couple of weeks.

I do not understand the nature of this blog platform... it stops letting me comment until I post as much then it lets me comment again.

I do not understand spell checks which seem to miss blatant mis-spellings and wrongly identift correct, if unusual, spellings

The perverse nature of inanimate objects, as my mother would say.

The web is clearly conspiring against me this week - between a wobbly wifi connection, a laptop that sulks if I use a LAN connection (though it's on one just now!) and a blog platform that has decided not to let me comment on its blogs for some unknown reason, it is proving 'interesting' trying to do anything online.

Helen's comments on yesterday's post were quite thought provoking, and served to remind me of the importance, sometimes, of what MS word calls 'noun qualifiers' - they were adjectives when I was at school but there you go.  I did, I checked, refer to "appropriate vulnerability", albeit not quite as directly as that.  This phrase was used when we were being trained in pastoral care, recognising that there is a role being fulfilled and lines need to be drawn somewhere in a 'helping relationship.'

So, phrases that came to mind as I pondered this were...

• Appropriate vulnerability
• Intentional outsider/Intentional Isolation
• Profession detachment
• Creative tension

I suspect each of these needs unpacking, and could I think, be useful avenues of exploration if I do ever get around to researching "Public Christianity and Private Pain."

What exactly is 'appropriate" vulnerability?  Who determines what is appropriate?  How far is too far?  How far is helpful?  Indeed, what is helpful and when?

It is John Rackley who I heard coin the phrases "intentional outsider" and "intentional isolation" to refer to the role of the minister within a church.  Whilst the minister is part of the local church they are never completely 'of' it.  Not because they don't love the people but because their calling, as pastor-prophet or pastor-teacher necessitates some degree of separation.  It isn't a kind of wilful "I'm not one of you" but a chosen, or at least accepted, separation, not in hierarchical sense but of 'intention', the 'why I am here.'  But again, what does that mean and what does it look like?

Professional detachment is something that all people in so-called caring professions have to manage - not getting involved with clients/patients in a way that undermines objectivity.  There are times when ministers certainly need a bit of this, but I'm not entirely convinced it works the same in churches as, say, in counselling.  The minister is not a professional pastoral-care-giver; intentionally outside or not, they are (or should be) in a deeper relationship with church members.  I've conducted funerals for well-loved church members and at such times there is a need to be, temporarily, a bit detached in order to cope (though as I type that I recall Jesus at Lazarus' tomb).

So, creative tension.  The phrase some people love and others hate!  How do I hold together in some creative sense these three phrases and what they mean?  How do I find a level of vulnerability that is appropriate for one who is to some extent an intentional outsider needing on occasion to exercise professional detachment?  I am sure there is a balance that can be struck that is helpful and healthy, but what that will look like will be different for each minister nad each congregation.  This, what might be termed 'personality' effect on the balance, is why it is so tricky: one size cannot fit all.

I have a suspicion that it is probably slightly more accepted for women ministers to do the vulnerability - the flip side of the (often mistaken) view that we are intuitivley more pastoral/caring.  Likewise I suspect the detachment is more accepted in men who are (equally erroneously) assumed to be more objective.

Anyway, appropriate, intentional, professional, creative - these seem like good 'noun qualifiers' to describe the task of a public Christian ministering through private pain.