Rants, Thoughts and Reasonings...

'Who is God?'

2011-07-01T12:32:00.000-07:00

As a general rule, I don't work with children. My calling to avoid those under the age of eleven was further confirmed a couple of years ago as I helped lead the upfront team at New Wine for 'Pebbles', the group for 3-4 year olds. I significantly lack the patience, extraordinary enthusiasm and dedication that it takes to engage a large group of small children for any prolonged period of time. I have considerable admiration for those who excel in this gifting.

For this reason, I have generally strayed away from children's work, focusing instead on attempting to keep rowdy teenagers on the straight and narrow. I enjoy the challenging interactions of hormonal individuals who frequently provide poignant responses to my questions, often controversial - if not inappropriate. I find it overwhelming when I see God transform their lives, typically restoring them from brokenness. It restores my faith in God to see those that I once witnessed at breaking point now leading churches and running missions; leading the way for their peers.

Ironically, God spoke to me the other day through a conversation I was having with a small child. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate children. There are some children that I find adorable and that I love looking after. There are some children who will remain important individuals in my life - my two year old godson for example. The other day I was looking after one of these children and found myself completely stumped theologically when she suddenly asked this question (during my incredibly dramatic rendition of Noah and the Flood before bedtime):

'Who is God?'

Having been at Bible College for a year, and studied with the great Professor that is Andy Croft for a further year; I probably should have had a better answer prepared. Instead my response went something along the lines of; 'He's a big man and He made us and loves us'. My theology lecturers would have been unhappy about the indecisiveness of this statement, and the little girl I was looking after was no different. 'Then why did he send a flood to kill everybody?'

I've recently started reading 'What's so Amazing about Grace?' by Phillip Yancey - and I can't believe I left it so long. Alternatively maybe I'm reading it at completely the right time in my life; God's sacrificial, benevolent nature is one I'm in need of remembering. It's reminded me of who god is.

'Grace means there's nothing we can do to make God love us more . . . Grace means there's nothing we can do to make God love us less . . . Grace means that God already loves us as much as an infinite God can possibly love.'

The story of Noah is one of my favourites in the Old Testament. So much so, that I am determined to call my first son 'Noah' (despite any argument to the contrary that my currently non-existent future husband may attempt!). To many, the story of Noah demonstrates God's anger as He chooses to destroy the very people that he spent so much time creating. To me, the story of Noah is the very opposite. It exemplifies God's grace. When God could have just started from scratch, he chose instead to begin again with Noah and his family . For 'Noah was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked faithfully with God'. (Genesis 6: 9). For Jesus was a righteous man, blameless among the people of his time, and he walked faithfully with God.

I'm just sorry that it took the inquisition of a four year old for me to acknowledge this. Maybe there's a career for me in children's work after all...

'Jonah Moments'...

2011-05-28T14:02:00.000-07:00

I reckon I'm pretty good at running away. As a child, I was always the fastest as I ran away from the horrible boys who thought it would be funny to play 'kiss chase'. As a teenager, those tables turned and I frequently favoured 'kiss chase' over seeing my parents. It was my teenage prerogative to try and run away from them. The NSPCC reckons that 1 in 9 children in the UK run away from home, most commonly as a result of problems in their home. Despite my occasional hormonal threats, I feel blessed to have grown up in a home full of love, where such drastic action wasn't necessary.

A couple of years ago when I was working as a youth worker; my boss and I planned a youth programme for our church weekend away based on the story of Jonah. I'd never really read this book of the bible before, or really scrutinized it. I'm ashamed to admit that my theology of this story was based entirely on my Sunday School teaching, and an episode of Vegetales that I watched in RE once. Both were riddled with inaccuracies that I had absorbed as biblical truth.

At some point in preparations, I stupidly suggested adapting 'Ultimate Frisbee'. There aren't any Frisbees in the bible, so we played the same game with a large Haddock - eyes, tail and everything. I had to have three showers to get rid of the smell; but watching a bunch of 14 year old's chuck a fish at each other was worth it. This game is also all I can honestly remember about that weekend - and at least it was tenuously thematic.

There's been a lot that's happened this year. I finally feel like I might be getting to grips with what Jonah must have been going through when he tried to run away from God. I've done some running away of my own this year. I've watched people that I love run even further away, and that's probably been one of the hardest things I've done in my life so far.

What strikes me most about God is that he continues to love us, no matter the cost. He loved Jonah so much that even when he had blatantly attempted to ignore him, he chose to keep him safe. In this day and age, we'd probably expect Mi5 level protection. Unconventionally, God chose for Jonah to be swallowed by a large fish. (Note 'large fish' NOT 'whale'.) Sometimes I guess God keeps us safe in unconventional ways too.

A while ago I moved somewhere that I fully expected to make home for the next three years. Within twenty four hours I had moved home again, an emotional exhausted and unhappy wreck. I was devastated, as unlike Jonah I was pretty sure that I was running in the same direction as God. As a result I spent a couple of months trying to run away... I rarely went to church and refused to pray to a God that I thought wasn't listening.

But God never gives up on us - his love never fails. God continues to love us, no matter the cost. Whilst I was trying to run away from God he was simply chasing after his Daughter, desperate to be back in relationship with me. The difference between us and God is that we can't keep running forever, but God can keep chasing us into eternity. Inevitably we will be the first to give up.

Jonah inevitably gave up on running - and so did I.

'When my life was ebbing away, I remembered you, Lord, and my prayer rose to you, to your holy temple. Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit God's love for them. But I, with shouts of grateful praise will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make good. I will say 'Salvation comes from the Lord'. (Jonah 2:7-9)

Everyone has a 'Nineveh'. There will always be something that we'd rather not have to deal with. I think we are all capable of having 'Jonah Moments'. I'm starting to realise that I'd rather have a running mate, than a running competition. Life is so much better when you're not being chased.

Are you all sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

2011-01-28T16:33:00.000-08:00

I may only have caught the tail end of the 'Jackanory' tradition, but I still love stories. I love trying to tell stories, and I love listening to good storytellers. Whilst I don't particularly love Rupert Murdoch, but he's onto a winner with this advert...

Last year I had the privilege of learning the art of storytelling from those who are particularly gifted at it, on a large and small scale; both funny and serious. My beautiful friend Kezzy, for example, can have party guests in stitches telling hilarious tales of her fabulous misfortunes; whilst my other equally beautiful friend Ali has the ability to hold the attention of 12,000 young people, imparting stories of grace, sincerity and faith. I'm not entirely sure that I've mastered either yet, but I certainly like the practice! (Although preferably without the audience of thousands...)

This year, I haven't had as much opportunity to be the storyteller, as I have to be the listener. I have begun to realise the nature of being an enchanted listener. Stories are only made great if they are made worthy by those who are hearing it. Captivating storytellers are always better if the audience is also actively captivated.

I'm currently in rehearsal for a play. It's called 'The Matchgirls', and it's set in 1888, at a time when many of the characters probably had a far more interesting story than any I've heard to date. Through it, I've grown to know and love the most interesting people. We're collectively trying to learn how to tell a story, and how to keep an audience captivated.

Interesting people have fascinating stories, and it has been such a pleasure to meet so many individuals whose stories are just that. Whether it be tales from travelling days (and that bungee jump they'd rather forget..), the saga of school crushes or poignant life reflections, I feel blessed to have been the hearer of every single one. They have provoked me to think, reflect for myself, and on the not so rare occasion caused me to pray.'But isn't that what a great story does? Makes you feel?'.

There is another great story that I know. It's about a guy who was also a pretty good storyteller himself. And thankfully, Dustin Hoffman, it's a story that has yet to find an ending. What better story could there be?

So, are you all sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin...

Self-less Christmas

2010-12-27T17:04:00.000-08:00

My friend Beth told me once that getting married made her realise how selfish she was in areas of her life. Suddenly, you have to think for your respected partner and spouse - life decisions cannot be made entirely around personal desires. Yet Beth is one of the most lovely people I've ever had the opportunity to get to know, and definitely un-selfish at that!

Christmas often reminds me of greediness and hoarding. Months of desiring things we don't really need, fuelled by clever advertising and pretty packaging. Unless of course you're a student like myself; in which case Christmas becomes an opportunity to receive all the 'essentials' you ran out of in June, but haven't been able to afford to buy.

I headed to a friend's house recently to celebrate Christmas in true party style; expecting a big lavish and delicious dinner, cheesy music and ridiculous games. Instead, they treated their guests to rice, bread and water. More than half the world's only Christmas Dinner.

My friends have an amazing and inspirational heart for the poor and the lost, and their desire for the evening was that amidst the flurry of presents, food and festivity we would take time out to remember the great many others who won't get any of it. Those for whom Christmas Day is just another 'lucky' day of survival. I was struck by their boldness, but challenged.

'He was little, meek and helpless... tears and smiles like us he knew'

One of my highlights of the pre-christmas week, was watching the BBC series 'The Nativity'. It was very moving, emotional and real. And it hit home the crucial part of God's plan that I realised I so often forget: He came to save us from our own Human iniquities. Kings AND Shepherds worshipped him, bringing all that they had.

God astounds me.

The challenge as I left my friends house was to contribute the money I would have spent celebrating with them that evening to someone in need, perhaps blessing someone I didn't know. And then, like Beth, I realised how incredibly selfish I was too; trying to justify plenty of other self-centred causes that could use that money.

I still haven't decided what I'm going to do with that money. I do have it set aside. I'm praying and hoping that God might tell me soon; and trying to look at my everyday with a 'godly' perspective.

What I do know is that I ate less this Christmas. I felt 'full' quicker (which might also be because of my Cousin's incredible cooking...) and in my contentment endeavoured to remember those that weren't eating anything at all. Most of all, I bathed in the knowledge that Jesus came for me too. And you.

The first cut is the deepest.

2010-10-21T01:43:00.000-07:00

On the 20th October 2010, George Osbourne announced over 81 billion pounds worth of cuts in our economy. I feel for the guy; someone had to make those decisions and whoever it was had a barrage of public anger coming their way. And in actual fact the decisions he has made aren't as bad as everyone had expected - dare i say some of them have been good decisions.

Making decisions is not something I am very good at. If I had the country's economy at stake, we would be in crisis (not least because i can't actually count very well... let alone work out a four year financial plan!). Making life decisions isn't like deciding which handbag i should buy - but i most definitely wish it was.

Recently I've had much reason to scrutinize my own decision making ability. I moved to a new place and found rather swiftly that it wasn't for me at all. I had made a seemingly bad decision. Perhaps my choice to move had been overshadowed by other ideas? Perhaps I had wished such an idea into reality? This remains to be seen. I had to make a good decision; and all the best decisions in my life seem to revolve around coming back home.
It got me thinking about the tough decisions that God must have to make.

Shortly after moving home, my family and I experienced the loss of an incredible, vivacious woman who was dearly loved and close to our hearts. She was an 85 year old lady with true guts, personality and sheer determination! She had a fondness for life and lived it pretty much to the full. She attended practically every birthday, baptism and other notable family occasion and was like a third grandmother to me. I will never forget her jovial demeanour; and will miss hearing her characterful east end accent ring through the house on a Sunday afternoon as she does the drying up for my mum; or sits in our living room knitting her next project for homeless children in Romania. I missed her as I celebrated my 21st birthday last weekend; and will continue to miss her at other occasions that I know she would have loved to be at. As Cat Stevens wrote in the iconic song of which this blog borrows it's title: 'When it comes to being loved she's first, that's how I know.'

But missing people only evokes memories; and allows us to engage in the beauty of remembrance. I will never forget her last conversation with me: 'I think you made the right decision, my girl... I really do think that'. I am not the only one who is home.

God makes hard decisions. He makes them for us - saving us from making the decisions ourselves. He can, because he's already made the ultimate decision - weeping as we weep, bearing our pain and mourning with us. It's not an easy decision to give up your one and only Son to die. This cut was definitely the most painful.

'No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord'. (Romans 8:37-39)

It's OK to take each day as it comes. It's OK to have things you had planned fall apart and realise that you need to trust in God again, more than ever. It's OK to feel like no-where's home, because ultimately we have a home in heaven that will be greater than this one on earth. It's OK to make decisions that will surprise and disappoint people when they are the only pragmatic solution for you. It's OK to remember.

I'm learning to trust the only authority that I know; and believe that He has it covered.

I have a Personal Jesus

2010-05-30T16:09:00.000-07:00

'God has not given this superabundance of blessings to Western Christians so we can sit back and enjoy the luxuries of this society - or even in spiritual terms, so we can gorge ourselves on books, teaching cassettes and deeper life conferences. He has left us on this earth to be stewards of the spiritual and material blessings, learning how to share with others and administer our wealth to accomplish the purposes of God.'

I love this quote. I just wish I could remember where it's from...

Ok, so I havn't blogged in quite a while. Life has been a bit hectic, frantic and busy. God has been pruning, shaping and moulding me - and it's been painful at times. I've had the privilege of learning much both theologically but also personally; pressing daily into God's grace and submission and what that looks like in my life.

The other day, whilst perusing the wonder that is 'Facebook', I came across a (cleverly filtered and targeted) advert which led me to this site. I have to confess, it was a surreal experience.
Whilst being both amused and slightly perturbed by a business venture that makes money out of inserting someones name into a 'personalised bible', the whole concept really got me thinking. Are we really that insecure in our society, even our christian society, that we find a need for to buy a bible to see our name next to Jesus'? I don't know why I found the answer so surprising. We are all broken people.

I don't have a TV license, and so recently I have been resorting to watching my favourite programmes on iPlayer, DemandFive, 4OD or any other ridiculously named playback site. The other day, whilst watching Britain's got Talent, my thoughts were confirmed - as I sat and cringed watching this guy perform. I'm not sure I would have got quite so emotionally involved if Corey Sean hadn't gone to my high school, and If he hadn't been the kid that I watched grow from the age of eleven. As much as I could see the entertainment in his dancing and cross-dressing; what struck me more was the brokenness that was staring me right in the face. This guy felt that he was alive again and could forget his troubles when he dressed as a woman and performed in front of two thousand people. All that crossed my mind was the potential distance that Jesus was from him, and that broke my heart for God's broken people.

I have never found reading the first seven chapters of Matthew so hard, until this week. It's full of challenges about living daily lives and honouring God completely; challenges that seem insanely difficult to overcome. One of these simply goes:

'But, I tell you, love your enemies and those who persecute you, that you may be children of your father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the righteous and evil and the good, and sends the rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect therefore as your heavenly father is perfect'.

'Be perfect therefore as your heavenly father is perfect'. Ouch! What a meaty and confusing verse! How can anyone be happy with their names inserted in a bible next to these words; for as far as I'm aware, none of us yet match up to His standards. We should be striving to be like him; and he is perfection -but what's so amazing about God, is that he never demands perfection from us. We are blessed super abundantly, we have so much in this world, yet we still want to see our name in print next to our Messiah, our Saviour, our Redeemer and King - the very God who cannot be described in enough names.

Ultimately the call to us in this verse cannot be denied. Who are we as Jesus' people if we only love those like ourselves? Frankly, I'd quite like to take my relationship with Jesus, the personal relationship that I share with him; and share it with Corey Sean.

I will never buy a personalised bible, but I will buy a bible for Corey Sean...

Choosing to delight

2010-02-23T15:31:00.000-08:00

In an odd twist of fate, I received an unconditional offer to Kent University a few months ago, and finally have accepted it. Despite initial protests, I will finally be attending university. It's such a bizaare realisation to come to. After many months of convincing myself that i would either marry well or fall into christian youthwork - it dawned on me;
sometimes we don't need to try too hard to decipher God's calling on our lives. sometimes God just gives us the right to choose.

I want to study something I'm passionate about, and something that I don't know much about - that would interest me. I want to stay close to home and I want to have the ability to be as financially secure as possible. I guess that if you dig deeper into those statements, it can be discovered that deep down, I am scared of studying for no reason, scared of being too far away from my parents and scared of being broke. It's not rocket science.

But lately the bible verse from Psalm 37:4 has struck me. 'Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart'. What is it to delight in God? Do I truly know how to do this?
What I do know, is that God knows my heart's desires, and with that he also knows my fears and he holds them close to his heart. He knows my worries about moving too far away from home, studying academically again and being broke and he's got it covered.

So far I've seen God's hand move immesaruably in my life. God has kept me safe moving to Watford, living in a wonderful house with housemates that only God could have ordained for me to know. God has ended relationships in my life that were unhealthy, and distracted me from focusing on him. But God has also given me the ability to choose all these things - to want to go to Watford, to want to have relationships with boys that weren't too good for me, and to want to go to university.

Our life isn't always about being 'called' to a certain path, discerning if that is the right one to follow and acting accordingly. I worry sometimes that this christian jargon prevents us from being selfish with God, and honest about what the desires of our heart truly are. We have forgotten what it is to delight in God. To delight in who He is, what He is and how almighty He is. And delight doesn't just mean mild acknowledgement of this fact; it means truly rejoicing and magnificently reflecting on that, and on Him. To this end, God gives us the desires of our hearts; and the great part about it is that when we truly delight in God, these desires aren't clouded by worldly perspective or personal gain because in realising Jesus, we realise that these things are irrespective. It is when we place these limitations on God that these desires aren't met and we get disappointed, seeing the lack of response as worldly failure rather than kingdom gain.

There is a classic line in Little Women where Amy says: 'We're all going to grow up someday Meg. We might as well know what we want'. I am in no way fully grown in Christ and I love that I never will be, but I do agree with Amy. Someday, I will be in heaven with Jesus - and it will be rocking. Until then, it's OK to know what I want, and to desire it - as long as I am also truly delighting in the Lord.

God gives us choice; and if our creator is powerful enough to move mountains and calm storms, I happen to believe that if I ever made a wrong choice - He'd let me know pretty quickly. And that's what's so awesome about my God.

'Praise does wonders for a person's hearing'

2010-02-03T14:52:00.000-08:00

The above slogan was recently proudly displayed on the notice boards outside the quaint little baptist church down our road. I don't normally pay attention to such notice boards, but this one definitely caught my eye - surprisingly it was catchy, thought-provoking and simple. If only it had been discovered before; it would have been marketing genius for the christian faith!

I've been thinking alot about praise.....it's a funny concept. Whilst I am familiar with it, and am aware that I have SO much to praise my God for, I am also aware that I will frequently limit my praise to specific acts of devotion, such as quiet times and church services. What is a 'heart of praise' really like in my life?

Everybody likes to be praised. I remember fondly my primary school teacher dancing for joy on my table and praising me for using the word 'presumed' at the age of eight. (Apparently such vocabulary was a rarity for someone so young. Incidentally, this teacher remained one of the biggest inspirations in my life to date). We like to know we have done something right - and more importantly, we love to get the credit for it. We even like to receive praise when it isn't us that deserves it. It's true: Praise does wonders for a person's hearing.

God's creation is blooming marvellous. Let's be honest - he did a great job. I don't know anyone on this earth that would have succeeded in creating something as complex, complete, intricate, beautiful, awesome and terrifyingly powerful as this earth. He did it right. And he SHOULD deserve the credit for it.

One of the most important things I am learning this year is to develop a heart of praise, and a heart of worship. It's one thing to know music, to read chords, to hear melodies and play them together. It's entirely another to use this as a personal language between you and God, whilst remembering all the other things in the meantime. A heart of praise comes from truly being in Jesus Christ; in knowing him and through loving him. It sound cheesy, and many great philosophers such as Matt Redman and Tim Hughes have already quoted similar things to this prior to my musings, but there is method in their madness! I would much rather praise and worship my God alone in the silence of my room, and His voice, than with a thousand people witnessing it - and that's the clincher.

The trinity is a complex doctrine. I still don't think I completely understand it. However one thing I have learnt about it recently has blown me away. We are IN God's son. It's like looking at a map in Bluewater with a big 'YOU ARE HERE' arrow pointing us straight at the Son, rather than John Lewis. The Trinity isn't a distant idea, we're a part of it. God wants us to be a part of it. It isn't just about giving our lives to Jesus and surrendering to him - it's about becoming a part of something unique, that can only have been created by the death of Jesus Christ.

That's intense, but that gives me even more reason to want to praise. I've been reading Jeremiah for the past few weeks, and have a favourite verse stuck on my bedroom wall:
'This is what the Lord says:
Let not the wise boast of their wisdom, or the strong boast of their strength, or the rich boast of their riches. But let those who boast, boast about this; that they understand and know me, that I am the Lord who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight'. (Jeremiah 9:23-24)
I want to boast in Jesus. I want to praise his name, in the silence and the noise. Funnily enough, it's doing wonders for my hearing too.

Remaining Humble with my faith held high

2009-12-01T08:08:00.000-08:00

'Consider what God has done;

Who can straighten what he has made crooked? When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider:

God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore you cannot discover anything about your future'

(Ecclesiastes 7:13-14)

It's like I've seen the light! I have come to the understanding that in actual fact, I cannot predict my future, and reflecting on the past few months of my life most certainly confirms this.

After what seemed like months of waiting, I moved to Watford from Croydon at the end of October to begin a new job and new life in a new home, with new friends, new responsibilities and new challenges. I have loved it, and all that it has brought and will continue to bring.

But the past two months obviously have not been without their challenges, including:

1. Learning to cook on a budget, which we seem to have cracked by discovering the 'reduced yellow label' trick and shopping at ASDA. We have also discovered that someone from our church lives less than 100m up the road, and she brings round quite alot of food...

2. Learning to live with a whole new set of people. I love my housemates, and it has been a real gift from God that we have gelled together so well.

3. Being geographically challenged in a completely alien place. I have succeeded to terrify my passengers with my 'london driving' on several occasions. It's not how they do it in Watford, apparently.

4. Learning to survive the pressures of working for a brand new, even more hectic church than my last one in Croydon. This church is even bigger, even busier and completely exhausting at times! It's also got alot of 'Christian fame' and dealing with that is harder than I expected.

If you were to have asked me five years ago what I'd be doing right now, it wouldn't have been this. I could never have planned this in a million years - which is poignant really because I didn't plan it. God did. If it was left to me, I would be slogging my way through law books right now, probably being very miserable.

It is humbling to think that whilst I fumble through life worrying and making plans, God has it sussed. My ambition for the year is to remain humble, faithful and reaching for Jesus. It's not to get 'famous' or walk into a job, or to avoid making proper decisions. I believe that I love Watford so much because God called me to Watford, and it's exciting to be seeking Him to see where he's going to call me next. I plan to remain humble, and keep my faith held high (and I thank Dan Blackburn for that gem of a quote). And funnily enough, I have a good idea that this probably fits into God's plans too.....

My Grandma

2009-09-14T13:12:00.000-07:00

Everyone has two types of Grandmother: The nice one and the strict one, or at least I certainly did!

My nice Grandma is cuddly, buying sweets when my parents had previously denied me them, giving me money when I didn't need it and baking wonderful cakes. My strict Grandma didn't do any of those things. In fact, the closest I ever got to a thoughtful gift was the ability to choose a Bible of my choice for my sixteenth birthday. I already had four bibles but I grasped the oppurtunity as this was a vast improvement on the most common Christmas gift I received, blank video tapes - a gift I had to contend with two Christmas' in a row.

I'm not the best at relationships with members of my external family. It doesn't help that there are so many of us (I am one of seventeen cousins) or that we live at such different corners of the country. Modern technology and social networking has been a great help for the cousins as we all attend different universities and begin new jobs. Unfortunately, my grandparents aren't as technologically savvy, and keeping in contact with them has been much harder.

I recently went to stay with my 'strict' Grandma. In all honesty, it was an arrangement of initial convenience -I had planned a weekend with some friends, and staying with my Grandparents gave me free accommodation. Prior to leaving, I can't say that staying with my Grandparents was the part of the weekend I was most excited about.

However, I think that the weekend I spent with my Grandparents was, in actual fact, one of the best weekends I've had there in a long time. I felt welcomed into a warm loving and hospitable Christian home (warm being a rarity with my money saving grandparents). I was given plenty of food (again, a rarity with my grandmother) and even a front door key! I even attended church with them on Sunday; TWICE.

At my grandparents church that Sunday evening, my presumptions of my Grandma were drastically changed. Sitting alone after the service, in an unfamiliar and slightly odd church, I was approached by a gentle, quiet old lady.
'I haven't seen you before. Are you new?' She asked.
I replied that I was just visiting, and explained who I was. Much to my surprise, when I later pointed out who my Grandparents were, I was astonished at her response.
'Ah, Hannah. It's lovely to meet you. I'm in a prayer triplet with your Grandma. We pray for you very regularly. It's wonderful to finally put a face to the name'.

My respect for my Grandmother suddenly rocketed. I had no idea that this woman, who previously I had perceived to be judgemental and uncaring was totally the opposite - she just didn't need to tell everyone about it. I was humbled by the knowledge that all this time, whilst I have strongly disliked her, she has continued to pray for me. And equally humbled that a woman of her age is such an awesome woman of faith, regularly meeting with a prayer triplet and remaining accountable.

I have alot to learn from those older than me. From those a few years my senior to those reaching the end of their lives, I know so little about life, about faith, about God and about following Him. I want to be a woman of faith like my Grandma. And I want to be humble, like her. I might not dig her choice of Christmas presents, but I definitely dig faith like this.

I might just go and pay a visit again.

Passionate about Jesus

2009-09-03T17:46:00.000-07:00

There is an annoying box underneath my profile picture on my Facebook page. I don't think anyone really knows why it is there - but it is. The content amongst my many Facebook acquaintances ranges from the obscene to the philosophical, but all largely detailing some aspect of the individuals life that it is crucially important that I know prior to meeting them.

I have a continual love hate relationship with Facebook, Twitter and any other time wasting/social networking/communication/'important feature in your life' device. I love that I am able to communicate easily with people who live far away or that I wouldn't otherwise be in contact with. I hate that it swallows my time, is unashamedly addictive and ironically encourages me to keep in touch with people that I wouldn't otherwise be in contact with.
My little box on my Facebook page reads: 'I am passionate about Jesus Christ. I have 30 pairs of shoes. In my spare time i like to watch rugby, read and play my guitar called Eric.'

It is not crucially important that those who don't know me read this information. What is important is that I am passionate about Jesus. And I want people to know this via any means possible, Facebook, Twitter, the whole social networking community.

This summer has been a massive summer in my life. I experienced life changing events on my first missions trip to Moldova, met important people at various festivals throughout the summer and finally left my job a week ago. I went from being lukewarm about God to passionate about being a disciple of Him in the space of six weeks. I have fallen in love all over again.

Moldova is a tiny country, dealing with a troubled political and economic past and a corrupt leadership. There is much poverty, alcoholism, prostitution and sadness throughout the country. Working in a tiny village in rural Moldova was challenging and hard, painful to heart breaking. Despite the hardships there is a minority of the community out there dedicated to relying and trusting on God's faithfulness, truly believing he provides; trying to evoke hope in a dying nation. It was utterly humbling. The Moldovan locals were able to communicate a desperate passion for Jesus: without the little Facebook box. They didn't need mere words to express their life, they lived it fully, humbly and gracefully - qualities that universally translate.

I am Passionate about Jesus Christ. I do have 30 pairs of shoes (shamefully). I do love rugby, I do love reading, and I do love playing my guitar (which again, shamefully, is in fact called Eric). My next challenge is to live my life fully, humbly and gracefully - or in the words of Micah 6:8 ' to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God'. I don't need to use words to do this.

I might delete my little Facebook box. I might keep it. Or at least delete the bit about the shoes...

Faces without names

2009-07-10T16:33:00.000-07:00

I met the love of my life on a plane to Spain.

Well, not really. However, i did meet an extremely beautiful, well spoken, polite and intelligent man whilst going on holiday at the end of March this year. It was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life.

Having spotted him in HMV at London Gatwick, my colleague and great friend Becky and I were already keeping a close eye on his every move, and had vaguely and unbelievably talked about the possibility of him being on the same plane as us. After careful consideration and the realisation that this probably wouldn't happen - we resumed almost normal behaviour.

At the departure gate, we played that funny, girlish game where both of us pretended not to be secretly wishing that we would see him come storming through the gates at the last minute, whilst positioning ourselves carefully with direct view of the door - just in case. With five minutes to departure - our dreams were made when we saw him breeze in.

Undeniably, we couldn't hide our excitement any longer. We saw him wait as the queue to board yet another packed Ryanair flight diminished, and worried when we saw him remain seated. What was going on - was he boarding after all? Or just enjoying the fun? Our minds were put to rest when out of our window, we saw him at the end of the queue at the bottom of the stairs. Thanks to Becky's careful prompting, I put my bag on the chair next to me - in the vain hope that he might sit in it over an annoying french exchange student.
I think my heart actually stopped when he did...

For the first hour of our short two hour flight, we were both too scared to talk - especially to him. Our hopes were then dashed when we then overheard him in fluent Spanish conversation with one of the air hostesses, and presumed him to be wholly Spanish. I am unsure to this day why this diminished our attraction to him.
It is only thanks to the two slightly drunk, overweight businessmen seated in front of us and their pantomime-like conversation in raised voices that the whole plane could hear; that it happened.

He turned to me and said one short sentence. 'It's like watching a play, isn't it?'. In response, all I could say was, 'Yes, it is', before turning to my friend and pulling silent faces to express my delight at this moment of sheer wonder! As we grew in confidence (literally) we began to talk to him more and more. We found out where he went to university, what he studied, where he now lived, how he could speak Spanish (he turned out to have a Spanish mother and English father. Being bilingual was far more attractive that just being able to speak one language...) what he did for a job, and why he was flying to Spain on this occasion.

What we didn't find out - was his name. He will forever be etched in our memories as the beautiful, perfect man that we met on the plane to Spain.

It seems I am rubbish at finding out people's names.

This evening with some friends, i went into town to see the latest masterpiece of Sacha Baron Cohen, 'Bruno'. Thoughts and opinions of this film aside, it was a lovely evening, made even more poignant by our journey back to the car park.

As we walked past the historic Millets, there was a lady sitting in the shop doorway. I walked past, as I normally do - but in contrast to other times, felt something different about this poor homeless woman who was asking for change. I rounded up all of my friends, and we headed to the only shop that was open: a cheap and cheerful chicken shop just metres down the road. Pitching in all our spare change, we bought her a burger and took it back to her, for her to enjoy a warm and tasty - albeit questionably nutritious evening meal.

Her eyes lit up, and something in me stirred. I had never experienced gratitude like this before. She opened the box immediately and started to eat, telling me that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous morning. I told her I hoped that she would enjoy it - and then churned out that annoyingly safe Christian phrase 'God Bless', before leaving her again.

I didn't ask her name.

This has been bugging me since I have returned. I have no way of keeping my memory of this woman solid in my mind - no personalisation of who she was, no identity to place on her - except for remembering her as a stereotype. 'That woman who was sitting in the doorway of Millets.'

Our names are so inextricably linked to who we are. Our names hold much of our value, and our identity. Identity theft is one of the biggest crimes in our country today - and that must be the case for a reason. I feel totally ashamed that I had forgotten to ask her name. I feel totally gutted that I forgot to ask the name of the guy we met on the plane (for no other reason than I can't add him as a friend on Facebook - I don't know who he is. This could also be a good thing). In my mild OCD, remembering people's names is important to me (and I am a little bit fascinated with finding out people's middle names).

Jesus would never forget my name. And he knows the names of those I didn't think to ask. I'm doing a rubbish job at trying to be like him on this earth. From now on, asking the name of those I don't know will be my first and most important question. Everyone deserves recognition by their name, and the lady in the doorway deserves it most of all.

Shipwrecked faith

2009-04-04T03:29:00.000-07:00

About this time every year I find myself becoming insanely addicted to what is in fact, a rubbish teen reality television programme called 'Shipwrecked'. In short, it is a programme about young adults (all of whom are coincidentally beautiful and wear very little) marooned on two rival desert islands in the South Pacific, encouraged to go a bit bonkers and perform some amusing, made for television moments resulting in a cash prize. It's great stuff - even my Mum likes it!

However, this series watching this programme has become more interesting - as one of the Island arrivals is a young Christian university graduate. For some reason, this made me uncertain. I became very conscious of this new arrival, and began to think about what it could mean for my own faith. 'Doug' could either be really cool and make me feel proud of my faith, or be totally embarrassing with legalistic and confusing theological ideas.

However, as the weeks have developed, and more inhabitants have joined the Islands, I have noticed increasingly and interestingly that 'Doug' is frequently absent; his opinions are rarely broadcast. I began to wonder why this was. Perhaps it is because Doug has very little of interest to say. Perhaps it is because what Doug does have to say would be too controversial for television broadcasting. Are either of these good things?

I began to wonder what I would be like if I was marooned on an island with complete strangers - who probably wouldn't be Christians. Would I grasp this great evangelism opportunity and totally trust that God has the situation in his hands, or would I forget that God even could hold situations in his hands. And then what really worried me is the thought that I wouldn't need to be Shipwrecked to believe the latter!

One of my favourite Tim Hughes Songs 'He's got the whole world in his hands' says this:

'I'll fear no evil, for you are with me. Strong to deliver, mighty to save'.
I remember the first time I heard this song played, at the leaving celebration of the first youth worker I ever knew and grew to love. It seemed so poignant at the time - and the lyrics of that song definitely spoke into my heart, my youth leaders heart, and the hearts of my youth group as he left to go onto bigger and better things in the Church of England.

Just over a month ago, I heard that I too had got myself a new job, starting in November. Whilst being amazing and exciting news it leaves me feeling a bit 'Shipwrecked'. I will be moving out of my family home for the first time and moving into a house with strangers. I will be leaving behind my church, the youth that I love and adore, and some incredible people. But at the same time I will be opening a door to some much needed new experiences and opportunities. The difficulty, I have found - is now: the interim period. I know that I am leaving but also know that it won't be for a while. I am reluctant to start new projects and get passionate about them because I know that in a few months they could disappear into nothingness. It is in the interim that I understand how Doug might be feeling as he is Shipwrecked.

It is hard to find God in the interim periods. It is hard to hear his voice, to trust in him and to believe that he has the situation in hand, and is probably working in my uneasiness, through my anxiety and insecurities. But then, no-one ever told me that following a guy who got nailed to a cross and tortured to death was going to be easy.

Recently I have been re-reading this book, 'Lost Women of the Bible'. It's a favourite of mine and this time the story of Mrs. Noah struck me in a new and interesting way. Here was a woman that isn't mentioned in the Bible. Noah takes all the glory with his big extravagant ark and eccentric animal collection. But she is there. What is more important is that you only have to look contextually to find out all you ever need to know about Mrs. Noah:
1. She was her husbands only wife in a society when polygamy was rife (so she must have been doing something right...)
2. In a society when a woman's value was measured by the number of sons she bore - Mrs. Noah had three. Another ticked box.
3. Noah couldn't have done what he did without her help, support and understanding. Noah's weird boat building hobby was incomprehensible by those that God was wishing to clear from the earth - yet Mrs. Noah comprehended it.
4. Finally, she must have been the only one to see Noah at his weakest. As any one in any form of leadership knows, it's not easy and there are times when you can feel very low. Mrs. Noah must have been one of the only people who was privy to Noah's 'freak outs' and anxieties - and it must take one hell of a woman to uphold a man with such a massive mission, like Noah.

I don't think that Mrs. Noah found her life very easy. I think I would go barmy trapped on a boat with my whole family (and the entire population of the animal kingdom) for an extended period of time. And I'm sure that as the rain continued to pour and there was no sign of any promise being fulfilled, Mrs. Noah found it equally hard to hear God's voice amid the strange squawkings and roars, and equally hard to trust that God had a plan. But as every small child knows - there was a plan. And it was fulfilled with far more than just a pretty rainbow.

I need to be more like Mrs. Noah, and NOT just in the interim period. My prayer is that God will give me the grace and strength to keep sailing - for I know that my own rainbow is more than on it's way. And I'm sure that Shipwrecked Doug would agree.

The ultimate plumber?

2009-02-08T14:56:00.000-08:00

I don't like getting messy. I have never liked getting messy. As a child, I refused to get involved in hand painting or finger painting. I didn't like gardening because I always got mud on my hands, feet, face and clothes. I was always a tidy eater as I disliked the feeling of food running down my chin; or a messy face. I hate the smell of dishcloths as they take me back to the time when my father would prize one onto my face to remove dirt. It's just the way I am.
However, as a leader on a recent youth group retreat, I found myself getting messy; really really messy.

When my boss proposed the idea of a 'food fight' as part of the programme for our weekend away, I sincerely thought he was joking. However, when he rocked up at our retreat venue with some large bags of flour, cheap baked beans, shaving foam, tomato ketchup and porridge oats.... it became apparent that he wasn't.
I love my young people, and I love serving them; thus when I found myself rugby tackled to the floor swallowing shaving foam and covered in beans at eleven o'clock on a Saturday Morning, I held onto my integrity knowing that somehow, my 'mess' was impacting the lives of those young people.

Recently, I have been thinking alot about relationships. My job is largely relational: I spend most of my time with people, serving people and being in relationship with people. It's why I love my job, but it's also why my job is hard. Relationships are both celebrated and admired, as well as scrutinised and dissected. Those in relationships find themselves the innocent victims of judgement from those on the periphery. At their core, relationships are messy.

My mother is many things, and recently this includes becoming a couple and relationship counsellor for 'Relate'. My mother is also infinitely wise, and a metaphor that she used recently struck a cord with me. She compared relationships to a 'kitchen sink'. Over time the plughole gets blocked with all the rubbish you try to wash down it. There are quick remedial solutions (I guess Cillit Bang has to sell somehow...) but these have only temporary effects. To truly get to the root of the problem you have to go into the drainage system, get on on your hands and knees and get messy. It's hard, smelly and unpleasant work but as a result your sink works perfectly again.......until the next time; and there will be a next time. If you can't clear the problem, its probably time to buy a new plumbing system and start afresh.

To look at someone who 'does' relationships well, the ultimate example is Jesus Christ. His relationships on earth were also celebrated and admired, scrutinized and dissected; and the judgement of those on the periphery left Him an innocent victim. He died to at the hands of the ones he came to save: bloodied, beaten, bruised and nailed to a cross. It was probably quite messy.

Yet his death removed our mess, allowed our relationships to be repaired, and allowed us to start afresh. Jesus did the hard, smelly and unpleasant work for us.

We will all have countless relationships in our lifetime: whether failed or successful, short-lived or convenient, loving or unloving. Hearts will break, friendships will fail, people will get hurt. At the end of the day, we are all trying to make our ways in a very messy, 'baked bean and shaving foam' filled world. No-one likes mess, so it is important to keep a hold of our integrity for the sake of preserving each other - sacrifice the OCD we have for perfection in order to impact the relationships of those around us in a positive way.

God is a relational God and he sent his son Jesus, in all His purity and perfection to allow us to know him more. He hates mess too, but He's willing to get messy himself in order to impact our lives. What makes God truly awesome is: That's just the way He is.

My Memory Box

2009-01-12T06:29:00.000-08:00

Spring cleans are always entertaining in my house. My dad is quite the hoarder; my mother is positively ruthless. Somehow, they reach a happy medium. I like to think that I am somewhere between the two.

There are some things you just cannot bring yourself to throw away. As my grandmothers both fervently believe: you never know when you might need it. For me, there are many material things in my life that remind me of special occasions; the Order of Service from my Baptism and Confirmation Service, a selection of birthday cards from my eighteenth, the ticket from my first 'proper' date to the cinema when I was eleven, and most recently the Barbie that sat on top of my nineteenth princess birthday cake. It is for these things that I have a Memory Box, which I keep in my wardrobe in my room. Whilst I frequently add to it; I less frequently take time to go through it, and remember why those things were special to me.

A few days ago, when I tried to add a few photos to my Memory box, I noticed that it was getting rather full. It was time for a clear out.

Amongst an array of many forgotten souvenirs, I found a collection of letters which mean more to me in the world that anything. They are letters and postcards from a teacher who taught me in year Two, but remains to have been one of the biggest inspirations in my life. She brought life and vivacity to my education, alongside love and care. She would dance on the tables when someone in my class got something right, and I will never forget the day that she gave me a housepoint for using the word 'presumed' in a conversation with her about my homework. Apparently this was unheard of vocabulary from a seven year old, which probably proves how much of a geek I am more than anything else. When she left the school a couple of months later, we stayed in contact. She gave me her address so that I could send her copies of my stories (she was very encouraging of my creative writing....) and our friendship blossomed into phone calls, letters, postcards and afternoon teas.

When I was thirteen, my mum received a phone call from my good friend. She was in Switzerland, where her husband was working; and had been diagnosed with secondary cancer of the kidneys. It was a goodbye call that I believe was purposely not made to me as it would have been too painful. She passed away a matter of months later. I will savour the memories I have of her and everything that she was; memories too great to put in a box.

I also discovered some random writings collected over several years of my faith; most importantly a collection of prophecies that people had heard about me from God. It is fair to say that I am often quite cynical about the whole 'prophecy' thing in my walk with God but reading them back after several years was like reading about the life I am now living in serving Him. God had it all right and I never should have doubted him. Psalm 139:13 says, 'For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb'. He knew me before He planned creation and He knew what I would be doing. God's plans are too great to put in a box.

My relationship with God is like my Memory Box. I never fail to keep topping it up with great things that happen in my life; times when God never fails and always provides, times when I experience relationship with him in an extroadinary way. I continually fail to look back at my relationship with God, to thank him for those times, to reflect on them and see God at work throughout my life as a whole. But I cannot box God. He is always there, always shaping and moulding me, to serve him and use me for His will.

I have yet to meet someone else who has a Memory Box. But at the crux of the matter, I do not need paper and ink to remind me of my good friend and our stories. I do not need scraps of paper reminding me how much God has in his hands, and the confirmation of his plans. These memories and beliefs are inherent, and that is greater than any paper or ink.

My Memory Box? It's just extra storage.

Look and Be amazed...

2008-11-30T15:15:00.000-08:00

I do solemnly declare that I LOVE EBAY. There is nothing that you cannot buy, and recently it has been very handy in equipping me with a wholesale order of six hundred and twenty birthday cards (which is going to last the youth ministry of Emmanuel another three years) and over a thousand latex balloons. It's also a handy place to find sumo-wrestling suits, and other strange outdoor games that my ludicrously crazy young people love.

Needless to say, in my busyness this Advent in the preparations for all that the Christmas period entails, Ebay has been the source of most of my Christmas presents. It still amazes me what people sell on Ebay. The pen lid of an ex-girlfriend. A tissue 'once used by Britney'. A poker chip won from Jennifer Tilly. Am I meant to know who Jennifer Tilly is?

"Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.'' (Habakkuk 1:5)

I am passionate about my job. I love it, even when it exhausts me. I love it when i despise it. I love the people i work with even when they hide my sandwiches and throw my shoes outside (and I refer to the behaviour of my adult colleagues, not any of my young people!!). And I love that God never ceases to amaze me.

Recently my church has joined the 'Advent Conspiracy' (go to http://www.adventconspiracy.org/ to find out more). The main gist of it is that we encourage the church to 'take back advent' from a time filled with Christmas preparations and partying, to a time of preparation for Jesus. Having run 24/7 Prayer on several occasions; we decided to do something a bit different in the run up to Christmas Eve, and combined both Advent Conspiracy and 24/7 prayer.

Alongside the 'Prayer Space' that can of course be accessed 24/7 there are a series of scheduled Prayer events, which are guided and more structured. At some point in my obvious wisdom; i mentioned that it would be a good idea to host a 'youth breakfast', where the young people of our church could come and share food and fellowship together, and pray together before heading off to school. I must have been crazy.

But I am amazed. God moves in extraordinary ways, and one of them brings about twelve or more young people to the Prayer Room every Wednesday and Friday morning at 7am. Maybe it's the bribery of Bagels and Coffee (although considering I keep forgetting to buy any Bagels I have reason to believe that it's not). Our youth breakfasts have become a place of safety, a place of peace, a place to worship together, a place to wait on God.

A place to be amazed.

Waking up at 6am in the morning, doesn't fill me with great joy as the dulcet tones of John Humphrys sift into my consciousness (just because I'm nineteen doesn't mean the Today programme isn't relevant!). De-icing my car in the freezing cold, when it's still effectively night-time doesn't either. Realising on my way to church that I have once again forgotten to buy fresh Bagels makes me want to turn the car right back around and snuggle back into bed. I amaze myself in overcoming these significant hurdles. I am amazed when I see God at work. I am amazed when he answers prayer. Early mornings don't seem so bad after all.

"Look at the nations and watch— and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.'' (Habakkuk 1:5)

Amen.

Slumming it.

2008-10-29T17:44:00.001-07:00

I spent this weekend sleeping in a cardboard box. I didn't want to, and i hadn't been unceremoniously removed from my home. It was to prove a point, raise awareness, and raise money.

'Slum Survivor' is a charity that works in conjunction with Tearfund, and 'Soul Survivor' to raise funds for those that live on the streets in homelessness and poverty all around the world. The strapline is that we aim to 'Spend a day living the way billions spend a lifetime'. As a youth group we built our own slum out of cardboard, plastic and anything else we could find from skips and rubbish bins. We then camped out on the church premises in our very own mini-city; some of the ever creative teenage girls even had a television, complete with changeable channels!

As the evening went on, there were definately aspects of the challenge that began to irritate us! Hunger, cold, boredom and the deadly slow passing of time became particularly obvious. We soon became aware of how compelling any form of escapism seemed, drink and drugs particularly. However there was something deeply grating on my conscience throughout the whole experience: we will never fully be able to recreate the life of the homeless.

This thought was articulated perfectly when i visited my friend's church this evening, and took part in their youth group. Talking to the intern based at her church, i shared the Slum Survivor experience. His honest and somewhat naive answer struck a chord with me: 'How many homeless were there?'. We can never know what truly living like the homeless is like unless we walk with the homeless. I may be crazy, but I believe that my God is a relational God, and a missional God. The 'Slum Survivor' experience created great relationships on an inter-youth basis, we raised four thousand pounds for the work of missons charities in South Africa and Central America which is more amazing than anyone could ever dream of. Yet, it is my thought that we neglected the people that mattered most. We neglected those on the streets that do not know relationship, those who do not know what it is like to feel loved, to feel ministered to.

My new boss is hot on this thing he calls 'Incarnation ministry'. Jesus says at the end of Matthew , 'Go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything i have commanded you.' Jesus instructs us to 'Go'. We as Christians should be fulfilling this 'great commission', and making disciples by walking with those around us, learning with them, laughing with them, crying with them. In youth ministry I as a leader have to meet with my young people on their terms, to walk with them, learn with them, laugh and cry with THEM.

Similarly, the youth of my church needed to GO and be with the homeless in South Croydon. They needed to walk, learn, laugh and cry with the homeless of South Croydon. I needed to walk, learn, laugh and cry with the homeless of South Croydon.
I have no doubt that the experience as it stood, enriched the knowledge and awareness of our youth fourfold, as it did me. When the clocks went back, and a traditional glorious extra hour in a nice warm bed was traded in for an extra hour under a cardboard blanket on a concrete mattress, i can't deny how real the experience of everyday homelessness became.

But I'm already getting itchy feet (and no, it's not from any disease i contracted from my weekend). Lets take it to a new level and obey the call to GO. Will you join me?

Making Small Talk

2008-10-19T16:09:00.000-07:00

I have unanimously decided that I hate 'small talk'. Yet in hindsight I have spent a vast majority of my life partaking in it.

At some friends' birthday drinks last night, the concept of 'making small talk' was raised between some girlfriends and I. We recalled the awkward situations when we have to make time talking to the uninteresting, the boring and the downright weird at various functions. And it got me thinking: Why do we make small talk? Is it an annoying British trait of politeness, or habit?

It strikes me that when any human being is placed in a situation of unease, we all resort to the lifeline of making mind numbing conversation with the nearest person we find. Alternatively we have developed the art of feigning interest in conversation when we are approached by someone unavoidably. Christians are particular masters at this.

My faith has been challenged by this idea recently. Small talk causes a loss of integrity, and as a Christian I am particularly keen for God to be revealed in my life; and that does not exclude awkward conversations. I am struggling also to see why small talk is a necessity!

We are very good at asking 'How are you?' without listening or caring to the answer, yet also quick to moan when we ourselves are NOT good. And as my mother so accurately corrected me, the uninteresting, boring and downright weird are no less than me in the Kingdom of Heaven; 'We are equal in his sight'. Christianity is built on years of relationship and fellowship; most importantly that of our relationship with Jesus Christ. And i have no doubt that in an awkward situation with Jesus (if there ever were one) He would not make small talk.

Not only should I be trying to look for the 'Jesus in everyone', but I should be looking for the Jesus in myself. If I am truly a follower of Him, then I have one huge journey ahead of me! As someone i know so inspirationally told me the other day: 'it is one thing to be a Christian; another to walk with Jesus.' Working for the church also means that I meet and communicate with all sorts of people, and I guess it is a project of my youth that i am still learning how to cope with them. If there was one flaw in this year's plan; and the amazing job that i am doing; it would be that. And i am not frightened to admit that i feel totally out of my depth.

So next time you find me asking how you are, i WILL be listening to the reply.

New Shoes....

2008-10-13T06:28:00.000-07:00

So the other day i headed into town, highly ambitiously attempting to buy only one pair of shoes.
I ended up walking out of House of Fraser having bought THREE pairs.

I was filled with mixed emotions, of both happiness and guilt. The shoes were beautiful and i was very much in love with them, but I was also aware that they were more shoes that I was not in need of, which encouraged me to feel guilty about my indulgence.

Having just finished reading the book 'Irresistible Revolution' by Shane Claibourne, i guess I'm feeling increasingly challenged about the way i live my life as a citizen of God's Kingdom. One of the things that really struck me from this book (a statement that also happens to be the title of my blog) is that the author devoted most of his life seeking the 'Jesus in everyone'. In a society where Jesus is largely a swearword, and church 'full of hypocrites', how can this be a possibility? Something that Shane Claibourne reminded me in his fantastic book, is that Jesus IS amongst the broken and the hurting, those that use his name in vain and the hypocrites in church:

'We have a God who enters the world through smallness - a baby refugee, a homeless rabbi, the lillies and the sparrows. We have a God who values the little offering of a couple of coins from a widow over the megacharity of millionaires. We have a God who speaks through little people - a stuttering spokesperson named Moses; the stubborn donkey of Balaam; a lying brothel owner named Rahab; an adulterous king named David; a ragtag bunch of disciples who betrayed, doubted and denied; and a converted terrorist named Paul'.
(Shane Claibourne, 'Irresistible Revolution')

One of our future all-age services focuses on this very theme of biblical theology; the story of God through history and into the future, and how we fit into that. I am encouraged to read and keep reading in the Bible that God can be found in the imperfect. It pains me to admit that I am not perfect, but no-one is. Christians are not perfect (and for goodness sake, everyone needs to stop expecting them to be - what a MYTH!) and it comforts me when i learn that God still works through that. I leads me to understand the point of my year as an intern, the true growth and journey that i am experiencing and the trials and challenges that i will face as part of that.

I guess having a weakness for beautiful shoes will always be my 'thing', but I continue to pray that seeing the weaknesses in other people will allow me to see Jesus in them, rather than a blatant imperfection. There is a saying that 'you can never have too much of what you love'; and one CAN (despite my pleas) have too many pairs of shoes. One can NEVER have enough of Jesus.

Time for a shoe cull i think......

Drinking copious amounts of tea....

2008-10-02T06:40:00.000-07:00

As my years internship with my home church in South Croydon gets underway, there are many things that never cease to amaze me about the 'behind the scenes' church:

1. Everybody drinks COPIOUS amounts of tea. Luckily i like the stuff, but for my new Canadian/American 'i only drink espresso' boss, it's been quite the culture shock. And contrary to popular belief, it really IS as English as it sounds. (I still feel ridiculously proud when i drink out of my 'Sensible Shoes' mug though. I feel it is important to retain your integrity...)
2. Staff meetings are not as boring as they sound......yet.
3. I have never been as scared of an eighty year old woman brandishing a hoover in my whole life....
4. It is possible to hate going out on a Saturday night; sometimes the idea of staying in and watching Strictly has never been so appealing.
5. Christians are not perfect, and stuff isn't always rosy. And that's OK with me.
6. Practical jokes bring out the best and worst sides in all kinds of people.....
7. EasyWorship IS NOT EASY.
8. You have to eat as many biscuits/sandwiches/anything else that gets donated to the office before the end of the day, otherwise they WILL just go bad.
9. Talking to the photocopier nicely does stop her misbehaving...
10. I wouldn't change it for the world.

Changing my colleague Becky's laptop language to Chinese was possibly the mistake of a lifetime, as it has spurred the office here at Church into a frenzy of practical joking. It's surprising how childish your 30-something boss becomes when he is brandishing gaffa tape, or hiding someones sandwiches (especially when he later discovers he has hidden the wrong sandwiches. This was a highly amusing moment).

Yet I can't help but reflect on my day, the amazing people I share this office with, the awesome youth that i have the privilege to be serving, and how blessed I am to be in such an amazing job. Sure, it involves anti-social working hours and it's been a strange transition from my place of worship (and refuge at times) to my place of work, but I can't deny the feeling of wholeness that overwhelms me the moment I walk through the large entrance doors, and say hello to the wonderful Office staff every morning. It is God's will that I am here this year to serve him, and it's the least i can do to make sure I do a good job.

And if your ever in the area, be sure to pop in for a cup of tea. :)