A Skinny Fairtrade Latte in the Food Court of Life

Here is one of the photos I used on Sunday, taken at the National Memorial Arboretum in July.

The slightly ajar door in the wall allows those on the battle field at glimpse eternity, into which their fallen comrade has already passed.  Part of our hope as believers in Christ arises from such glimpses - that death and sin are not the end, there is a brighter tomorrow.  When Jesus called his disciples to take their crosses and follow him it was simply to death, but through death into the hope of eternity.

The alignment of the sculpture is such that at 11 a.m. on 11 November the sun's rays pass through the slit; our hope as Christians allows such glimpses any time, anywhere...

Among the visitors at last Sunday's service was someone who commented on the fact that the whole service hung together - that the act of Remembrance and the concept of sacrifice threaded their way through it all, that the hymns/songs fitted in, that the Sunday School's (absolutely amazing) reflection on the first Armistice Remembrance Day connected and so on.  Surely, I thought, this is basic stuff - but of course even as I thought it, alas I know it isn't, why else is every Baptist denominational college having to teach the rudiments of how to create an act of public worship?  How often do we hear people say 'we'll start with some worship' when they really mean 'let's sing some songs we like' or even, among hymny churches, 'we'll end with that one because it has a good tune'?  Scary.

As I said in a recent sermon, it isn't style that makes of breaks worship, I like all sorts of styles and can worship in some very diverse settings, it is understanding what we are about.  Thank goodness for people like Chris Ellis whose recent publication 'Approaching God: A Guide for Worship Leaders and Worshippers' explores this in a way that is accessible, respectful of different styles and preferences, and rooted in a good understanding of what public worship is about.

I am grateful to have spent my formative years in allegedly 'boring' churches where the groundwork of good worship practices were maintained, allowing me to learn what I was doing before I started to experiment with how I do it.  I do like creativity, and movement and contemporary music as well as stillness, listening and ancient forms.  But over style come intentionality and authenticity - and that is not always so evident.

Last week I was lent copies of the two histories of the church.  One written for its jubilee (50years) and the other for its centenary.  It is always interesting to read such documents and to find out how a church saw itself and what it chose to include (whilst guessing at what may be excluded and why).  I guess what struck me was that some what I am now hoping to do/be and what I am saying finds resonates quite strongly with what the first minister hear did/was.

One of my plans - which I hope to begin early in the new year - is to get directly involved with Sunday school, sometimes, and regularly, working  I with the children and Young People rather than the adults.  I wish I could claim this was an idea of my own, it isn't, I it pinched from a couple of male colleagues down south.  Imagine my delight when I discovered that the first minister of this church used to teach in Sunday School once a month!  Granted, it was a different pattern - Sunday school was in the afternoons and he fitted this between two (or more) services.  But the precedent is there, and all I am doing is reshaping it for a new century.

Also included are snippets for parts of this man's sermons.  One on mission and one on public and private prayer... which had resonances with a couple fo the themes we've worked with in recent weeks.  Cue spooky music!

At one stage in the church's history the building was jam-packed on a Sunday.  The history tells how visitors would have to wait in a side room until all the members/regulars had arrived and been seated (in their pre-paid pews) to see if space could be found for them.  Hard to imagine?  Well, at the moment we are having the lovely problem of fitting in enough seats for all the people who come along and on Sunday as full as we dared (without opening up the mezzanine gallery).  I did wonder if we ought to operate the old system in reverse... regulars have to wait in the corridor until all the visitors are seated?!

There is, as the Teacher tells us, nothing new under the sun, and sometimes it is nice to be reassured that the new ideas you have are older than anyone who hears them.  In the meantime if anyone knows how to make elastic walls, maybe than can let us know...!