... the latest BMS Mission Catalyst which focusses on the complicated issue of living in multi-cultural societies and working out how best to relate to local culture especially when it involves the festivals and celebrations of other faiths.  There was a time when 'barge pole' and 'don't touch' would have been all that was said, but here we have an interesting, well thought out 'magazine' with some helpful theology on alternative attitudes to other faiths.

Many years ago one of the set books for my theology training was Anton Wessels Europe: Was it Ever Really Christian? Not the snappiest title or the most fun read ever, but it showed how much accommodation, inculturation and even pretty much syncretism had gone on over the centuries.  It ceertainly influenced my thinking.

I grow ever more impressed with the courageous direction BMS is taking in its publications and speaking, making us actually face and engage with the world as it really is.  And I'm pleased to see how BUGB is also starting to engage more creatively in this complex area, with the e-news sweep alerting us to the festivals our neighbours will be celebrating throughout the year.

(Oh, if you want to know my heresies on this one I'm an inclusivst with a fulfilment theology... and if that means nothing to you then you'd better read Mission Catalyst)

When 2010 dawned there was no way I would have anticipated it would turn out as it did.  Like most people I had plans of what I intended to do with the year and although I knew they wouldn't all come to fruition and that some unexpected, even unwelcome, events would occur, I pretty much expected a 'quiet' year in which things just plodded along.  Certainly 2010 has been a busy year, and one with some great moments along the way, and it seems right to pause to reflect on a few of the things that have stood out - for good or ill - along the way.

The external event that had the biggest single impact on my year was the news of the death of 24 year old Fay Martin, the BMS worker out in Afghanistan.  The 'thank you card' she sent me the Christmas after her visit to Dibley and the rather crumpled photo of the 2003/4 BMS Uganda Action team taken at Dibley (with the then Midlands BMS co-ordinator) are in my minister's 'treasure box.'  It took a long time to deal with the guilt I felt at having encouraged her to explore God's call on her life, a call that led to her dying so far from home.

The spring months saw me studying with the Scottish Baptist College on their Practice Mentor course - and securing the highest marks I've ever managed for a theology essay.  I guess as a thrice qualified mentor I jolly well ought to have managed this, but it was good none-the-less.  It would be good to say my research work had done as well but for all manner of reasons it didn't - but hopefully early in 2011 I will get to submit for an MPhil adding another set of letters to my collection.  Maybe one day I will get round to the doctorate - time will tell.

I could wax lyrical for a very long time about church life and bore the pants of anyone daft enough to read my thoughts.  Welcoming new people into formal membership, blessing a baby, leading Lent studies and Advent reflections, watching the Coffee Club flourish, initiating the daytime Bible Study group and the monthly Theological Reflection group, starting to integrate Sunday School themes with preaching plans and going into Sunday School, increasing the number of All Age services... not a bad year's work really!  And all that in addition participating in the existing diverse activities of the church.  The real bonus has been the embryonic work with students that has lowered our average age substantially, increased the number of non-white faces on a Sunday, and energised folk just at a time when things suddenly took a wobble.

The last four months of the year have been very much an unchosen adventure, yet one that has had its lighter moments and it's glimpses of grace.  The climb at Mount Chemo is almost complete - barring disasters the last dose will on 31st December containing this phase of treatment within 2010.  I have learned all manner of things about cancer, chemotherapy, hair growth cycles and the workings of the NHS!  I have discovered good websites and bad.  I have met some lovely people I wouldn't have done otherwise.  I have also learned what it is to be terrified, to wonder 'what if' and to be (reasonably) gracious with the good intentions of people who don't get 'it' or me.  I still have lots of questions about the balance between collusion in the myth of 'happy Christian' and the pastoral responsibilities of being 'honest Christian' (minister or not) which probably won't ever find satisfactory answers.  For me, Mt Chemo has not been too bad and I've been able to continue work pretty much as usual (well, usual at a scant half workload) for which I am very grateful.  The support of church folk, friends and the wider Christian (and not) netowrks has been amazing.  A long way still to go in 2011 - and treatment-wise the bits that really scare me still to come - but this 'new normal' is 'ok'.  (The photo was taken about two weeks ago after I shaved off the last of the "tenacious telegen hairs" that had refused to fall out.  At time of typing I have some 'designer stubble' new growth which may or may not withstand the drugs on Friday; ironically as the stubble began to grow on my head, the last of my eyelashes fell out...)

Lots of other stuff in between, but this post is way too long already.  2010 has seen more extremes than most years, and a fair bit of stuff that never made it in to the public domain that is a blog, but it's a year that still has more to celebrate than to lament.  For what is past, praise God; for what will be, may God be my guide and companion.

One of our neighbouring churches decided to write limericks for their Boxing Day service... they can be found here.  Some talented folk methinks.  Enjoy.

Yesterday morning saw the pavements outside the Gathering Place covered in glassy sheet ice.  Witness one minister landing somewhat inelegantly as her feet slide sideways (fortunately) and her well-padded thigh hits the ground.  In the words of the late 1960's Tufty club "Public Information Film", spoken by the badger police-officer, 'no bones broken, luckily.'  Luckily indeed - I have schedules to keep that don't permit traumatic injuries!  Thankfully only one other person fell en route to church, she also escaped with minor bruises and hurt pride.

A 'generous forty' made it through the icy conditions including some visitors, and we gathered round the tables deliberately left from the day before for a low-key all-age interactive, slightly mad service.  We began with a 'quiz of the day' and I was most impressed someone knew it was Wren Day (although I'd opted not to pursue that one as it has a rather unpleasant origin) exploring the origins of Boxing Day, King Wenceslas (shame our resident Czech was absent really) and just who was St Stephen (there are two and they seem to share the same day).

We reflected on the biblical Stephen who was a Greek convert, who began his Christian service as a table waiter tending to Greek widows in a church where there were mumblings that the Hebraic widows got better treatment and who in time came to be a witness for his faith.  We didn't major on the execution, just noted that 'martyr' means 'witness' and that this can be as much practical as overtly 'spiritual'.

For our prayers we made 'Christmas Boxes' on the inside of which we wrote, drew or symbolised prayers  for ourselves, our families, our neighbours and friends, our church(es), our city (town or village, wherever was home) and our world.  Having stuck the boxes together we put in a gold coin (chocolate variety!) as a sign of promise (bit stretching the idea of Christmas boxes and magi gift of gold anticipated but hey).

As part of our service we said 'farewell' to two of our overseas folk, returning to sunnier climes after fifteen months in Glasgow.  We will miss them greatly because they have blessed us richly and modelled for us an ability simply to invite friends along to church (many of whom have stayed).

It still feels a bit strange to think I won't be preaching for four months but I know my church is in good shape for the months ahead.  As part of our worship, we sang this hymn, exclusively found, it seems, in BPW (No. 583) and sung to the folk tune 'Stenka Razin', and which seemed to sum up what I wanted to say rather well.

We are called to be God's people

Showing by our lives his grace

One in heart and one in spirit

Sign of hope for every race.

Let us show how he has changed us

And remade us as his own

Let us share our life together

As we shall around his throne.

We are called to be God's servants

Working in his world today;

Taking his own task upon us

All his sacred words obey.

Let us rise then, to his summons

Dedicate to him our all

That we may be faithful servants

Quick to answer now his call.

We are called to be God's prophets

Speaking for the truth and right

Standing firm for godly justice

Bringing evil into light.

Let us seek the courage needed

Our high calling to fulfil

That the world may know God's blessing

In the doing of God's will

Thomas A Jackson (c) Broadman Press

Non-authorised emendations to final verse from "mankind" to "the world" and from "his" to "God's"

Christmas Day at the Gathering Place... and lunch for almost forty... despite severe weather and absolutely no public transport they kept arriving until we had a full house...

A Japanese PhD student... a squaddie... people with addictions... elderly spinsters... Nigerian post grads... people with mental health problems...  church folk giving up their day to cook or serve... 

All around one table. 

You tell me that's not a foretaste of the heavenly banquet...

(In the end there were three spare seats, possibly because people ate standing up, I like to imagine they were just in case the Holy Family showed up...)