Messy church

Our family Easter celebration yesterday felt very messy, very bitty and yet seemed to be enjoyed by all who were there. We had an Easter egg hunt, shooed away the Easter bunny and somehow managed to get Jesus back as the focal point of Easter. We celebrated baptism and shared communion. Oh - and we also had an Easter bonnet parade and lots of the children brought beautifully dyed and decorated eggs. After the service, I just wanted to lie down in a darkened room to recover. But that may have been as much just the culmination of a week filled with moving services. 

This year, I've been conscious of how much more we could offer to allow folk to really get to grips with Christ's passion but I think we've reached saturation point for this small community. Another time, another place perhaps.

There is no evidence that the first Easter was all neat and tidy. Maybe we have to be content with just touching base with the drama and allow faith to unfold like those linen grave clothes as time goes on. The impact of death and resurrection is maybe more akin to lighting a slow burning fuse, whose progress we can keep on fanning into flame.

He is risen indeed

Just got back from our Early morning Easter celebration, followed by bacon and black pudding rolls. Not sure what draws folk - the service or the breakfast! But its always good to stand around in the fresh morning air with folk who have got up especially early to welcome the risen Christ anew. By the time the light dawned on that first Easter day, Christ had already risen, death had been conquered. Its worth celebrating new every morning. A blessed Easter to you and yours.

Blood on the street

We took communion onto the streets again this Good Friday. Just reminding folk what day it was and offering them communion. Folk were more engaging this year than last and it was wonderful to be able to offer Christ to our community in such a powerful way. I'm sure we could get into all sorts of theological discussions about what we were doing and what we were offering but I love the simplicity of the love of Christ this Good Friday at work on the streets of Inverkip.

And, the snow stayed away until we were packing up. How good was that?!

Tongue in cheek

I had a rather important meeting this morning about an hour's drive away. However, when I got to the car, my rear tyre was completely flat. It wasn't possible to even drive to the garage to charm the mechanic into fixing it. So I did that thing for which I despise other women - I called my husband to come and sort it. Well, it had one of those complicated locking wheel nut things and I had no idea what the required tool even looked like far less being able to find it!

As I said the meeting was quite important. I managed to get a message relayed so there was no real harm done - I arrived just a little late. But, sometimes, when things like that happen I find myself asking - Is this the work of God or the work of the devil? - Upbringing always comes out! And the answer is - there really isn't much to choose between them. It could be an obstacle placed in my path by the devil because I'm doing the right thing or an obstacle placed in my path by God because I'm doing the wrong thing. Get my drift? How does one determine which it is? Or is it best just to forget it and put it down to the law of averages, sod's law or whatever? Does it really matter? The end result was a hefty bill for two new tyres by the day's end. Now that definitely is the work of the devil!!!

Journey into love

I had a meeting at the Church headquarters in Edinburgh at the end of last week. Instead of driving there, I decided to take the train. Its amazing how much work I got done as the train sped me to my destination. Most of the Palm Sunday liturgy was written by the time I got there.

When I arrived, I had a short wait before the meeting and, already tense, I waited with some trepidation.

But then a wonderful thing happened. A few friendly faces passed through the waiting area, colleagues I knew and with whom it was good to catch up.

Working out in the sticks, it is easy to forget that we are part of something much bigger and that there is a whole body of support all around us, there for our asking.

And, in the seemingly relentless work of the parish, its easy to lose sight of God who wants so much more for us, not from us, and who watched his son journey to the cross to show that there are no limits to love.

An offering for Palm Sunday

Did you know?
When you sent your disciples to borrow that colt, did you know? Did you know that, as you rode on its back, the crowds would line the streets to greet you? Did you know the children would wave branches? You said that, if the crowds hadn’t shouted their welcome, the stones along the way would have called out in praise? So what was it all about? Some giant ego trip? A display of your popularity? Or did you have in your mind all along that prophecy that said that the king would ride on a donkey? Was it a giant political statement? A king without all the paraphernalia?
Or were you just plain stupid? I mean it couldn’t have escaped your notice that you’d really ticked off the authorities. Doing the kinds of things you did. Healing on the sabbath, encouraging folk to question their rulers. Even upsetting the economy by questioning their taxes. Why, if you had to be in the city - why didn’t you just skulk in quietly? Why the entourage? What part of - “they’re out to get you” did you not understand? Or was it that you’d played their game long enough. Now it was time to get the inevitable over with. If you were going to die, then let’s get on with it.
And as those crowds greeted you like a hero, were you able to enjoy it? Were you able to bask in their praises and forget, just for a while, that by the end of the week those same voices would be baying for your blood - and those same hands, palms raised in welcome and salute, would become clenched fists, demanding your execution?
(Pause)

And don’t you know, Jesus, that we would never do that?
We would never sing your praises one minute and call for your demise the next.
Not us who gather week in week out, in our Sunday best, singing your praise, reading your word.
No fickleness in us.
None of that going with the flow, following the crowd, saving our own necks.
Not us.
While that crowd were gunning for you, we would have been defending you, challenging them.
We would have been just as vehement in our defence of you.
We would have put our heads above the parapet and stuck up for you.
We would!
We would!
Honest.
Well, Ok then, maybe we would have calmed our jets a bit.
I mean there would be no point in us all coming to a sad end.
It would be daft to follow you that far, stick our necks out so much that we lost them.
But we would at least have whispered “Leave him alone”.
Or, to be on the safe side, we would have kept quiet.
Stood in silence, while all around us, your fate was being sealed.
We would have stood our ground, quietly, as your execution papers were drawn up.
Ours would have been a silent protest.
That’s effective you know - standing quiet while there is raging all around us.
We would have stuck it out, quietly.
Don’t we make you proud.
Isn’t our loyalty and bravery just what you need?

Conspiracy theory

I'm having one of those manic weeks just running from one thing to the next. Tonight there was the opportunity for a bit of space but something else cropped up. However, in the midst of all the turbulence, something slow and subtle but nonetheless relentless is happening. Things are afoot. There's an excitement in knowing that its beyond my control but also an apprehension. Although I'm so caught up in it all, I somehow feel like an onlooker, standing back, observing, waiting to see how things pan out.
In this run up to Holy Week I'm conscious of the disciples journeying with Jesus, caught up in his slip stream, not understanding, but tagging along for the ride. Maybe not the most helpful analogy when you consider how that all turned out but somehow fitting for the events cascading around me right now. Fasten your seatbelts. Its going to be a bumpy ride.