see-through faith

Many many years ago now I used to do a lot of dinghy sailing. I learnt to sail over in North London when I was about 14 or so. It was one of those things my dad signed us up for during an Easter or Summer holiday. I didn’t want to go. Typical teenager home from boarding school the idea of getting up early every morning for a week to go on a course was not my idea of fun – by by the second day I was smitten. I loved it.

We learnt on Wayfarers – very stable dinghies.  Very good teachers. Yep I was definitely hooked!

I moved on from reservoirs to the sea in Scotland (Tighnabruaich) – staying at the Youth Hostel there – with a crazy Glasweigan friend who tried windsurfing! – and my dad; and next holiday was back to North London for some advance training  and from there I headed to the Greek islands. A wayfarers fortnight in paradise.

Because Wayfarers are stable you can easily go off exploring in the Aegean.We always sailed as a flotilla and I remember having fab days out in different locations – visiting some inaccessible (by foot) caves, and a long day trip to the tip of the island and stopping off for lunch.  But dinghy sailing is not like yachting – you get to sleep on land every night, and visit tavernas.

It seems a lifetime ago

Today the word wayfarer carries a different meaning for me.
Wayfarer- pilgrim- sojourner – traveller on the Way.

The lovely thing about dinghy sailing holidays is that you sleep on land – and eat in Taveras, but

Woke up this morning thinking about wayfaring. The pilgrim kind.

a few weeks ago – in Sheffield – I saw some city protesters. I took a couple of good photos (one in particular is very good) but have tried to post that (on several occasions) with these thoughts and it just doesn’t want to play ball.

The protestors were not moving and were dressed in black, blindfolded and holding a noose. There were several of them … in a circle looking outwards. (for their protection there was both a chaplain and a street policeman nearby).

What were they protesting? Capital Punishment – in particular the execution of Reggie Clemons. You can read more about that case here . The protest was done as part of  Amnesty International.

What I found really moving was the silent protest in the midst of the hustle and bustle of life in Sheffield. My friend and I stood there for a few minutes watching, thinking praying. What I found fascinating was the ordinary people (shoppers, those who work in the area etc) and their reactions. The parable of the good samaritan came to mind several times with people crossing the square and looking down or looking busy so as not to get involved in any way – not even emotionally.

The protest of these (mostly young) men and women that day was a very powerful witness.

Today I said goodbye to DD. It hurt. It hurt more than I expected. I think it’s supposed to be like that. It’s a bitter-sweet moment when your child flies the nest.

Last year she went off to N.Italy to be an aupair. It felt quite different. It was for ‘only a year’ and it seemed like a great adventure, a laugh, a gap.

Now she flew back again. This time for … well who knows?  She’s starting a 3 year degree course at the university there, but somehow it doesn’t feel like she’s left to be a student, rather that she’s left home, to live life, to become the woman she’s destined to be.

I’m proud of her. I’m glad for her. I know Italy is just right for her. But I miss her already.

As I drove out of the airport this song was playing. It doesn’t fit exactly – but at the same time, I think, it said it all. And the tears flowed.

You and me
We used to be
together
Every day
together
always

I really feel
That I’m losing
my best friend…

Back home the house was strangly empty. The final wash to be done (bed linen and towel) and that was it. 20 years. Gone in an instant …  well not quite, but yes, more than a chapter has closed, a volume, … and a new one opens. Today.

I returned from a five day adventure (3 day wedding) in the outer archipelago two days ago. It was a marvellous time away. I came home physically exhausted (sailing is hard work) but mentally and spiritually rested.

There were so many highlights of the wedding … but perhaps the highest highlight was an impromptu sharing of music on the night of the wedding. We were supposed to have had a dance but this happened instead.  And it was wonderful. The highlight for me in it was my friend (and the matron of honour) Minna playing and singing. I had heard her earlier this summer at a gig – but her singing her own composition of a song about small islands and then getting us all to harmonise in …in the setting of this wedding between two of the most wonderful people you can imagine -  well words fail me. I had to leave the party then and go back to the boat to process …

one of the reasons I think I was touched so deeply was a prophetic word given several years ago by a Christian from Pakistan. She talked about Christians in Finland being like small islands and what we needed was some bridges. The wedding I went to in Utö – well it was proof that many of those links and bridges had been formed and were alive and well. My heart broke with joy!

Tonight, Turku had its annual Night of the Arts which is also a lot of fun. Again Minna – Minna Twice – had a gig. This time in a fantastic yoga (?) studio with fabulous light and mirrors and feminine artwork.  You can check out Minna Twice here.

rather than songs, i’m interested in creating sculptures of sound

It’s also possible to contribute to her work by paying a small fee to download the music.  (The songs are in English)

This isn’t my photo, so am only providing a link to it here. This art work (Probably by Banksy -and a more recent photo shows it now under a perspex/glass protection) really does make me think

All round the UK bunting and union flags are starting to be used to decorate the villages and town centres … to celebrate both the Diamond Jubilee (in June) and the Olympic torch relay which has already started and will culminate in the opening ceremony in London’s East End (in July). But something that perhaps should be of more concern is where the bunting and union flags come from, and the conditions under which they have been made.

Just before Christmas I was blessed to visit Liverpool – my first proper visit ever. I was shocked to learn that Liverpool was founded on the wealth of the sugar plantations and the slave trade. Today there is still slavery – and sometimes the cheap imports in shops such as the one Banksy did this art work – are guilty of selling products made under inhumane conditions just so we can buy cheap. (That said there is also evidence of expensive branded products being produced in equally slave-like conditions)

Much to think about.
Much to act upon ….

I’m leaving my laptop behind.

Let’s see what God shows me ….

Back in a week.

My PhD is stagnating right now. I’ve been reading away but obviously not the right stuff as things still aren’t clicking yet.

Soon I need to make some kind of decision about what I want to do next year. Right now if I had to finance my PhD myself I am sure I wouldn’t carry on. Does it then make sense to come back here and intern for another year to finance a PhD that isn’t inspiring me right now? Or is serving here enough?

More questions than answers right now.
I suppose I ought to be used to that at least!

If people can grab breakfast on the go or pay a bill from their cell phone, she thought, why shouldn’t they be able to get their ashes in a flash?

So thinks an Episcopal priest over in St Louis. It’s an intriguing idea.

Lent is still very much part of the fabric in many places where the Church is in severe decline. I had a very interesting fb chat with a young man who is not a believer. He told me he was being encouraged to give up smoking for lent by his non-believing girlfriend and nominally Christian mum. Intriguing theology of something … just not sure what.

Last year I went to the Ash Wednesday service in St Anselm’s in Lambeth, London. There the minister,  uses a pretzel to talk about the trinity. I loved it.

Today here at Cliff College, we had the imposition of the ashes done by an African Bishop from the Methodist Church in Nigeria. He was dressed in full regalia and looked a bit like a RC cardinal with his red ‘hat’.

I think the whole point of Lent, for me, is to turn our focus towards the cross. Whatever that means in practice. For some giving up lunch to spend that time in the chapel in prayer is one way, for others not opening the fridge and opening the Bible a bit more is another, … for me it might be Ash Wednesday already but I haven’t really worked out what my Lenten discipline might be. Whatever it is I hope and trust it will bring me closer to the heart of God again.

What a priviledge to watch (albeit on TV) the final of the Australian Open today.

I saw the first set (then went to church, coffee and nipped into the supermarket) and still managed to catch the end of the fourth set, and all of the fabulous final set. That gives you an idea of how loooooooooong the match was (over 5hours, it finished in the wee hours of the morning)

Both men played marvellously and it was sad that there had to be a loser as well as a winner!

It was really awful to watch them both standing at the end waiting for all the speeches, neither man could really stand. Luckily someone finally thought to bring them chairs.

What struck me though was how neither of them were prepared to concede, their perseverence was amazing. There’s a message in that for us Christians don’t you think?

I’m over here in Ashbourne, Derbyshire this weekend.

It’s on the other side of the peak national park, and  rural England, but definitely not nearly as rural as my usual location. Today for example I could easily walk into ‘town’, a town which has a market, a post-office, not one but two chemists, several supermarkets, and best of all a handful of charity shops. Secondhand shops are my secret passion and that’s where I do my equivalent of retail therapy.
Yesterday though I did something a bit different to my usual ‘respite weekend’. I arrived here earlier than usual and met with my friend (the local vicar) for lunch. It was wonderful. I mean the food was very good – we had smoked salmon bagels and a wonderful cup of coffee in a local café-gallery, but even better was our  sharing life with each other again. All too often, sadly, we are more like ‘ships passing in the night’ on my visits, but this time our diaries matched. Yay.
I’ve had time since yesterday to think about some of the things we discussed. That’s always good. And that, together with an almost memorable quote from Eugene Peterson’s The Contemplative Pastor (which I am re-reading, theoretically  as an aid to my PhD but actually because it’s so good for me!)

A number of years ago I was a busy pastor and had some back trouble that required therapy. I went for one hour sessions three times a week, and no one minded because I wasn’t available for those three hours. Because the three hours had the authority of an appointment calendar behind them, they were sacroscant.

On the analogy of that experience, I venture to prescribe appointments for myself to take care not only of my body, but also of my mind and emotions, my spirit and my imagination.  One week in addition to daily half-hour conferences with St Paul [love it!] my calendar reserved a two-hour block of time with Fyodor Doestoevsky. My spirit needed that as much as my body ten years ago needed the physical therapist. If nobody is going to prescribe it for me, I will prescribe it for myself. (p.23)

There’s nothing new in what Peterson writes. I have good friends back in Finland, all of whom do precisely what he recommends. One books a three day retreat every quarter. She may or may not go on retreat, but she will bolt herself in somewhere with God. Another meets with CS Lewis regularly in much the same way as Peterson meets St Paul daily.
I’ve still to adopt a practice that really works for me … but I am working on it. I easily get overwhelmed by ‘doing too much’ … and then I’m unable to be the person God’s really called me to be. When I’m tired and drained I’m more likely to be angry or snappy (as a friend put it) and I don’t actually study well in the frame of mind either.
My daily encounter with the pool really helps.

While in England I haven’t been able to use it as much as a prayer closet as I used to in Finland, but swimming for 40 minutes or so in the mornings helps give me time alone with my thoughts and time with God, and without it I’d probably be a basket case.

On it’s own it’s not enough,though, so walking with my camera and trying to spot God at work in my world is good too, but in all honesty a half hour meeting with St Paul or others would go a long way to confronting the powers of busy-ness which often just aren’t from God at all. There’s a catchphrase we’d all do well to remember:

We aren’t human doings we’re human beings

… so take time today, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, just to be.

I know I need to, cos as John Wimber once famously said ‘whether we’re out raising the dead or taking a nap, the pay in the Kingdom of God is the same’. That’s not a call to complacency and idleness, but it is a call to give up performance orientation and striving and learn to rest in God.

Amen?
Amen!