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Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts

Sunday, 15 February 2026

A future that's bigger than the past



Here's the sermon that I shared today at St Mary’s Langdon Hills and St Catherine’s Wickford:

St Paul states in Philippians 3:20 that ‘Our citizenship [as Christians] is in heaven.’ Pause for a moment to reflect on how transformational those words are; ‘Our citizenship is in heaven.’ Paul literally shifts the centre of the universe, from this existence and our daily reality, to the realm of essence, the things that last forever, the habitation of God and of those whom God has called to share the life of eternity. Rather than earth being the source and testing ground of truth and coherence, the measure of all things becomes heaven. So, when we’re assessing whether something is right or wrong, when we’re determining the current state of the Church, the question to ask is, does it stand the test of eternity? Will it abide with God forever? Or does it belong to the world that is passing away?

I want us to follow Paul today and start to concentrate on where we’re going. We’re going to heaven – where there is more than enough love for all, more than enough joy, more than enough truth, more than enough space for everyone to flourish. When we do so, we arrive at a new definition of the Church: a bunch of people who all come from different places but are all going to the same place. We’re a people pooling our resources for a journey we make together to a place none of us have ever been. There are no experts, because we’re all citizens of a country we’ve never visited and longing for a home we’ve never known.

How do we prepare for that journey? We look at the glimpses we have in scripture of heaven, including our Gospel reading today – the story of the Transfiguration (Matthew 17.1-9). In speaking of that story Sam Wells says: “There’s glory – the glory of the Lord in the face of Jesus Christ. There’s the pattern of God’s story in Israel and the church, a story that finds its most poignant moments in the midst of suffering and exile. There’s the loving, tender, presence and heavenly voice of God the Father – a voice that for the only time in their lives, the disciples hear and understand. And there’s the extraordinary realisation that, even though all this could have gone on without them, the disciples have been caught up in the life of the Trinity, the mystery of salvation, the unfolding of God’s heart, the beauty of holiness.”

Up until this point, “the disciples know Jesus does plenty of amazing and wonderful things and says many beautiful and true things, but they still assume he’s basically the same as them.” It’s only as they go up the mountain with him that the veil slips and they’re invited in to a whole other world. A world in which “Jesus is completely at home,” “even when the Father’s voice thunders from above.” “And more remarkably still, it seems there’s a place for them in it, hanging out with the likes of Moses and Elijah. They’ve been given a glimpse of glory. It’s a glory that’s faithful to the story of Israel, a glory that has Jesus at the centre of it, a glory that has God speaking words of love, a glory that has a place for them in it, however stumbling and clumsy they are, and finally a glory in which Jesus touches them tenderly in their fear.”

The glimpse of glory that they are given is a glimpse of heaven. In the glimpse of heaven they are given they first see Jesus with his face shining like the sun. The light of the glory of God shines in the face of Jesus. God is seen – seen, not heard - in Jesus. What the disciples see of God in the Transfiguration is demonstration, not proclamation; the light of God seen as it is lived out in the life of his Son.

Second, they see Jesus in conversation and in relationship with Moses and Elijah. Moses, Elijah and Jesus are together in community, communing one with the other. The letter to the Hebrews speaks about a great crowd of witnesses in heaven made up of the prophets, saints and martyrs who have gone before but with whom we are in relationship. We see here, in the Transfiguration, a glimpse of that community of saints of which we are part.

Third, we see that such glimpses are currently temporary while they encourage us to yearn that they become permanent. Peter responds to the Transfiguration with the hope that Moses, Elijah and Jesus can tabernacle together (or live together in tents) just as God tabernacled (or dwelt in a tent) with the Israelites in the wilderness. Although, he yearns for a longer, more permanent experience, Peter has to accept the temporary nature of the Transfiguration in his present reality. A cloud overshadows the disciples and, when they look up, Jesus is alone again.

As citizens of heaven we are given glimpses of heaven in order that we begin to live as if we were already there. What do the glimpses of heaven that we see in the Transfiguration show us about how to live as if we were already in heaven?

First, the light of God was seen as it was lived out and demonstrated in the life of Christ. The church, therefore, should be about modelling and making possible forms of social relationship not found elsewhere. The church should seek to shape communities whose habits and practices anticipate and portray the life of God’s kingdom. Our role in mission is to cultivate assets and thereby foster and advance abundant life. Social engagement isn’t an add-on to the core business of worship; it’s a form of worship, because in the kingdom disciples are humbled, moved and transformed as they stumble into the surprising places and come face to face with the disarming people in whom the Holy Spirit makes Christ known. Christianity caught on in the second and third centuries because it created institutions that gave people possibilities and opportunities the rest of the world had yet to imagine. That’s what Christianity originally was: a revolutionary idea that took institutional form. That’s what it needs to become again. The church must model what the kingdom of God means and entails in visible and tangible form.

Second, this modelling and demonstration of God’s future now will be centred on community. The Transfiguration shows us Christ in communion with the prophets, saints and martyrs. The chief end of humanity is, as the Westminster Shorter Catechism puts it, to glorify God by enjoying him forever. Heaven is all about relationships; enjoying God, each other, ourselves, and Creation. Therefore, Christianity must take the present opportunity to be what it was always called to be: an alternative society, overlapping and sharing space with regular society, but living in a different time – that’s to say, modelling God’s future in our present. It’s not enough to cherish the scriptures, embody the sacraments, set time aside for prayer, and shape disciples’ character in the ways of truth, if such practices simply withdraw disciples for select periods, uncritically then to return them after a brief pause to a world struggling with inequality, identity, and purpose. Rather, what we need is to become and to model communities of ordinary virtues, but ones infused with grace: thus trust, honesty, politeness, forbearance, and respect are the bedrock of such communities, while tolerance, forgiveness, reconciliation, and resilience are among its abiding graces. What I’m describing is the transformation of churches into dynamic centres of abundant life, receiving, evidencing, dwelling in and sharing forms of social flourishing and being a blessing to their neighbourhood.

The Lent Course that we will shortly begin explores the question ‘Who is my neighbour?’ in terms of: being waited on by Angel Neighbours; being a neighbour to those close to us; giving hospitality to strangers; standing up for the oppressed; carrying another’s load; and being a neighbour to those on the road. That course will, therefore, provide an opportunity for us to explore together how to become and how to model being a community of ordinary virtues infused with grace.

Third, we recognise the temporary nature of our community whilst longing, like Peter, for a more permanent experience of heaven on earth. That reality is implied by the phrase ‘The future is always bigger than the past.’ In essence, we don’t know, but we’re learning. We haven’t arrived, but the journey’s great. We’re not sure exactly where we’re going, but it’s getting better all the time. We’ve had some wonderful experiences, but the best is yet to come. So, we pray for the kingdom to come in future, on earth as it is in heaven, while seeking to create temporary signs of that kingdom in the here and now.

The experience of what it’s like to feel as though we’re already in heaven is what we call the kingdom of God. Entering in to that experience of glory is where we’re going. God invites us all to be in heaven, not because any of us have a right to be there, or because God is trying to set straight a historic injustice or present imbalance, but because God chooses never to be except to be with us in Christ, and that being-with is not a for-some-people thing but a for-everyone thing, and it’s not a for-now thing it’s a forever thing. We prepare for that reality by learning to live with everybody now and receive their unexpected gifts with imagination and gratitude in recognition that these are the people with whom we’ll be spending eternity, lucky and blessed as we all are to be there. So, we’d best use these earthly years as a time for getting in the mood of heaven. May it be so for each one of us. Amen.

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Barratt Band - My Spirit's Free.

Monday, 24 November 2025

International Times: 'A Deep Dive' - 'Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere'

My latest review for International Times is on Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere:

'The synopsis of ‘Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere’ is essentially to be found in lines from an early Bruce Springsteen song, ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town’:

Well, everybody’s got a secret, Sonny
Something that they just can’t face
Some folks spend their whole lives trying to keep it
They carry it with them every step that they take

‘Til someday they just cut it loose
Cut it loose or let it drag ’em down
Where no one asks any questions
Or looks too long in your face
In the darkness on the edge of town
In the darkness on the edge of town

What Springsteen initially can’t face is his troubled relationship with his troubled father. In the film he is told this to his face by his girlfriend Faye (a composite character, rather than an actual person). Eventually, he leaves New Jersey – his hometown, which triggers memories for him all the time he remains there – and through talking therapies gains necessary understanding of his mental health challenges, including greater understanding of and an improved relationship with his father.'

My earlier pieces for IT are: an interview with the artist Alexander de Cadenet; an interview with artist, poet, priest Spencer Reece, an interview with the poet Chris Emery, an interview with Jago Cooper, Director of the the Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts, a profile of singer-songwriter Bill Fay, plus reviews of: 'Great Art Explained' by James Payne; 'Down River: In Search of David Ackles' by Mark Brend; 'Headwater' by Rev Simpkins; 'The Invisibility of Religion in Contemporary Art' by Jonathan A. Anderson; 'Breaking Lines' at the Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art, albums by Deacon Blue, Mumford and Sons, and Andrew Rumsey, also by Joy Oladokun and Michael Kiwanaku; 'Nolan's Africa' by Andrew Turley; Mavis Staples in concert at Union Chapel; T Bone Burnett's 'The Other Side' and Peter Case live in Leytonstone; Helaine Blumenfeld's 'Together' exhibition, 'What Is and Might Be and then Otherwise' by David Miller; 'Giacometti in Paris' by Michael Peppiatt, the first Pissabed Prophet album; and 'Religion and Contemporary Art: A Curious Accord', a book which derives from a 2017 symposium organised by the Association of Scholars of Christianity in the History of Art.

Several of my short stories have been published by IT including three about Nicola Ravenscroft's EarthAngel sculptures (then called mudcubs), which we exhibited at St Andrew's Wickford in 2022. The first story in the series is 'The Mudcubs and the O Zone holes'. The second is 'The Mudcubs and the Clean-Up King', and the third is 'The mudcubs and the Wall'. My other short stories to have been published by International Times are 'The Black Rain', a story about the impact of violence in our media, 'The New Dark Ages', a story about principles and understandings that are gradually fading away from our modern societies, and 'The curious glasses', a story based on the butterfly effect.

IT have also published several of my poems, including 'The ABC of creativity', which covers attention, beginning and creation, and 'The Edge of Chaos', a state of existence poem. Also published have been three poems from my 'Five Trios' series. 'Barking' is about St Margaret’s Barking and Barking Abbey and draws on my time as a curate at St Margaret's. 'Bradwell' is a celebration of the history of the Chapel of St Peter-on-the-Wall, the Othona Community, and of pilgrimage to those places. Broomfield in Essex became a village of artists following the arrival of Revd John Rutherford in 1930. His daughter, the artist Rosemary Rutherford, also moved with them and made the vicarage a base for her artwork including paintings and stained glass. Then, Gwynneth Holt and Thomas Bayliss Huxley-Jones moved to Broomfield in 1949 where they shared a large studio in their garden and both achieved high personal success. 'Broomfield' reviews their stories, work, legacy and motivations.

To read my poems published by Stride, click here, here, here, here, here, and here. My poems published in Amethyst Review are: 'Runwell', 'Are/Are Not', 'Attend, attend' and 'Maritain, Green, Beckett and Anderson in conversation down through the ages'.

I am among those whose poetry has been included in Thin Places & Sacred Spaces, a recent anthology from Amethyst Press. I also had a poem included in All Shall Be Well: Poems for Julian of Norwich, the first Amethyst Press anthology of new poems.

'Five Trios' is a series of poems on thin places and sacred spaces in the Diocese of Chelmsford. The five poems in the series are:
These poems have been published by Amethyst Review and International Times.

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Bruce Springsteen - Atlantic City.

Sunday, 27 July 2025

A model prayer – beautiful, balanced and brief


The sermon I've been sharing today at St Andrew’s and Holy Cross Basildon and St Peter’s Nevendon is adapted from Discovering Prayer by Andrew Knowles, published by Lion Publishing:

When the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he responded with a model prayer – beautiful, balanced and brief (Luke 11: 1-13). It has come to be known as the Lord’s Prayer. In his book ‘Discovering Prayer’, Andrew Knowles, a former Canon Theologian of Chelmsford Cathedral, simply and succinctly takes us through the different sections of this prayer for life.

We begin with God - Jesus reminds us to whom we’re talking. We’re coming to Almighty God who is also our Father. We aren’t phoning through a big order to a supermarket store which sells everything. Nor are we practising some weird and wonderful thought-process guaranteed to release psychic powers. We’re coming simply, humbly into the presence of our Creator, having received the invitation to do so from Jesus himself.

It’s good to remember that God is ‘our Father’. We belong to a great, trans-national, cross-cultural family, some of whom have already died and some of whom are yet to be born. Wherever we are around the world, and at whatever point in time we live, we own God as our Father and Jesus as our Lord. So when we pray this prayer, we’re sharing with our Christian brothers and sisters, across every division of colour and class, of politics and economics, of time and eternity.

We say ‘yes to God’ - Not only do we begin with God, we also ask that all he wants to do in our lives and in our world may come about. We ask that all he wants to do in our lives and in our world may come about. We ask that men and women everywhere may realise who he is and humble themselves before him.

We ask that God’s kingdom may come - The kingdom of God exists wherever God is King. It isn’t located on a map, nor do we enter it by holding a passport! The exciting truth is that God is already King of millions of lives. He is already acknowledged as Lord in a vast number of situations. We see the effects of his rule when hate is turned to love, when bitterness is dismantled by forgiveness, when disease is overwhelmed by health, and when war gives way to peace.

But we must remember that God is a father and not a dictator. For this reason his kingdom can only come when individual people invite him into their lives and submit themselves to the changes he wants to make.

This phrase, ‘May your kingdom come’, more than any other in the Lord’s Prayer, has a tendency to rebound on the user. If we really want God’s kingdom to come, then we must open ourselves and our circumstances to God, whatever the cost.

And if we’re looking for the kind of changes in the world that only God can make, we may find that he promptly enlists us in his service! We may find ourselves doing anything from bathing an invalid to mailing a cheque for famine relief. We may even find ourselves called to lob in our whole life as the only fitting contribution we can make to the service of God’s kingdom in a particular situation.

We bring our needs to God - In the second half of the Lord’s Prayer we ask God to meet our basic human needs. We ask him for enough to live on, for forgiveness, and for protection.

‘Give us day by day the food we need’ has a strong echo of the days when the Israelites were supplied with manna in the desert. Every day they had ‘enough’, and the Lord’s Prayer asks that we may have the same experience of god’s faithful provision each day as it comes. In an age when many people are run raged by their desire for money and possessions, this is a wonderful promise from Jesus. All the same, we should notice that it is everything we need that God will provide, and not everything we want.

‘Forgive us our sins, for we forgive everyone who does us wrong.’ This reminds us that our standard of living is more than a roof over our head, food on the table and a shirt on our back. Our well-being is intimately tied up with personal relationships – within ourselves, between ourselves, and between ourselves and God. Our recurring need here is for forgiveness. We hurt people by our self-centredness, our anger and our prejudice. We hurt God by going our own way in defiance of his loving law, wilfully defiling all that he intended life in this world to be.

So we ask for forgiveness. We feel the need and we say the words. But it’s no easy matter for God to forgive us. It cost him the life of his only Son to show the reality and consequence of sin. As he died on the cross, Jesus took on himself the results of all our sin. This is the only way by which we can be forgiven and restored to spiritual life. This is the Christian Good News: that life with God – something we can never earn and certainly don’t deserve – is his free gift to us through the death of Jesus. Our sins are not only forgiven but forgotten, and if we mention them to God again he’ll wonder what we’re talking about.

But as we ask God to forgive us, we must check if there is anyone who in turn needs our forgiveness. How do we feel about our worst enemy? Is there any member of the family, or anybody at work, against whom we’re nursing anger, bitterness or resentment? Only as we forgive others can we enter fully into the wonderful experience of God’s forgiveness of us. This is not just a nice idea. It’s a condition for our own forgiveness. Elsewhere Jesus warns that if we don’t forgive, then we in turn shall not be forgiven. This teaching alone, if we take it seriously, will completely change our lives.

‘And do not bring us to hard testing.’ Sometimes this is translated, ‘Lead us not into temptation,’ and we may well wonder when, why and how God could possibly want us to be tempted. And we would be right – he doesn’t. But while God will never lure us into evil, he will sometimes allow us to be tested. Just as we will put ourselves through all kinds of discomfort to get fit or lose weight, so God will allow pressure on us to strengthen our faith or increase our insight.

In the face of this testing, Jesus includes a very human plea that God won’t go over the top in his efforts to refine us. It is encouraging to hear Jesus say this, because he was tempted over a longer period and with greater intensity than we’ll ever know. Enticed by Satan, or daunted by God, we often given in at a very early stage. Our Christian integrity disintegrates and snatches at hypocrisy to cover our shame. But while we often capitulate, Jesus never did so.

The Lord’s Prayer recognises that temptation is an integral part of our daily life. We’ll never lose it, so we must learn to use it. If we can use the force of temptations to push us closer to the Lord, rather than sweeping us away from him, then we’ll be harnessing their power for our benefit.

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Marvin Gaye - The Lord's Prayer.

Saturday, 10 May 2025

Unveiled: An evening with Neil Tye





An evening with Neil Tye
Friday 4 July, 7.00 pm
St Andrew’s Church, 11 London Road, Wickford SS12 0AN


For the last 25 years Neil Tye has been working professionally, as a physical visual theatre performer, instructor, teacher, and installation artist, and has taken his performances, and teaching skills around the world. Hear stories about his music, performance, and painting.

Part of ‘Unveiled’, the Friday night arts and performance event at St Andrew’s Church

Artist Statement

Neil’s artistic practice is grounded in an intuitive and process-driven approach, wherein the act of painting itself dictates the final composition. Rather than adhering to predetermined concepts, he engages with the canvas through spontaneous mark-making and gestural forms, allowing the work to evolve organically. While his initial engagement with a piece may be sparked by a particular colour or shape, it is the dynamic interplay of movement, texture, and form that ultimately guides its development.

By embracing spontaneity and fluidity, his work exists at the intersection of abstraction and interpretation, inviting viewers to engage with the imagery in a way that is both personal and open-ended. Through this interplay between process and meaning-making, Neil`s paintings function as both intuitive expressions and conceptual explorations of movement, memory, and transformation.

About the artist

Neil Tye (b. 1963, London UK) is a Denmark-based artist with a background in both visual arts and physical theatre. Initially working as a performer and educator in physical theatre, he transitioned into visual expression 15 years ago. He holds an MA in Professional Practice from Middlesex University, London, and has exhibited, performed, and taught extensively across Europe and beyond. His exhibitions include venues such as the arts and culture centre Spinderihallerne (Denmark), the arts centre Banco de Nordeste (Brazil), and The Post Houston TX (USA), among others. Drawing from his multidisciplinary background, Neil’s work explores movement, form, and storytelling through visual mediums. He continues to create from his studio M10 in the Art zone area here in Spinderihallerene.

'The things we carry'

Following its initial display at Spinderihallerene in April, Neil's latest exhibition 'The things we carry' will be shown at Redbud Arts Center, Houston, from 7 - 28 June. This is a collection of mixed media works that centre around the nature of human connection. To mark the opening, Redbud Arts Center will host a special one-night performance by the internationally acclaimed Ad Deum Dance Company. The performance, inspired by themes from Tye's exhibition, will weave movement, storytelling, and live interaction with the artwork, offering audiences a multidisciplinary experience that bridges visual art and contemporary dance.

Neil says of the exhibition: "The title of this exhibition was inspired by reflections I had while creating my recent body of work. The first thought centres on the fundamental nature of human connection—we are not meant to navigate life alone. We rely on one another for support, understanding, and encouragement, whether through conversation, shared experiences, or emotional upliftment. The second thought arose from one particular painting, which evoked the image of an overloaded truck. This visual metaphor led me to consider how, in life, we accumulate and carry various burdens—emotions, worries, frustrations, memories, secrets, hopes, and dreams. These intangible yet weighty elements can become overwhelming, making it evident that we cannot bear them alone. At times, we must find ways to release or share these burdens, but this raises important questions: Where do we turn for relief? To whom do we entrust our heaviest thoughts? And how can we cultivate a sense of communal support to help lighten the loads we all inevitably carry?"

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Josh Garrels - May You Find A Light.

Wednesday, 14 June 2023

Artlyst - Chris Ofili: Exploring Sin at Victoria Miro

My latest exhibition review for Artlyst is on Chris Ofili: The Seven Deadly Sins at Victoria Miro:

'Ofili’s focus is either on moments when sin is conceived – moments which, to be effective as temptations, must be attractive to us – or could represent a reconfiguring of our concept of sin. If heaven, as some theologians have suggested, involves a simple enjoyment of relationships with the divine, other human beings, and the creatures and plants of creation, then isolation becomes the key sin, making Ofili’s imagery fully paradisical without any sense of impending judgement.'

My other pieces for Artlyst are:

Interviews -
Monthly diary articles -
Articles/Reviews -
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Sunday, 18 September 2022

Living God's future now

Here's the sermon that I preached today at St Catherine's Wickford:

Often working people (usually rightly) say that work barely gets a mention in Church yet when you look at the stories Jesus told large numbers of them are to do with work.

Luke 16. 1 - 13 is one of those stories and it may well be the one that it is most difficult to understand. The story and the teaching based on it seem contradictory and it doesn’t seem to fit with other things that Jesus said and taught.

A manager is wasting his employer’s money. He is found out and fired. The beginning of the story makes sense to us. It’s what happens next that causes a problem. The manager then reduces the debts that various people owe to his employer in order to get on good terms with them before he leaves his master’s employment. Although he is again wasting his master’s money, this time the master praises what he has done.

Jesus goes on to say that we should use our money to make friends and that this will help us to be welcomed into eternity. That seems almost the reverse of his saying store up treasures in heaven rather than treasures on earth. Then to compound all the complications he commends faithfulness after having told a story in which the dishonest manager is praised for his dishonesty.

How can we find a way in to a set of teaching that seems contradictory and confused? It may be that the key is Jesus’ statement that we should make friends for ourselves. Although the dishonest manager remains dishonest there is a change that occurs in the story. And we can see that change most clearly if we think about the manager’s work-life balance.

At the beginning of the story, friendships and responsibility seem low on his list of priorities. He is managing his employer’s property but wasting his employer’s money. It is likely then that his life is focused around work and money. However, when his job comes under threat, he suddenly realises that relationships – friendships – are actually more important than work and money and figures out a quick way of building friendships. At the end of the story, if we return to his work-life balance, work will have decreased in importance to him while friendship and responsibility for his own future will have increased.

The teaching that follows the story makes it clear that Jesus does not condone dishonesty; if this manager is dishonest in small matters then he will also be dishonest in large ones. The manager’s fundamental dishonesty does not change but the priority he places on relationships does. In other teaching Jesus sometimes uses the formula; if someone who is bad can do X then how much more should you or how much more will God do X. He uses it, for example, when he talks about God giving the Holy Spirit: if fathers who are bad, he says, know how to give good gifts to their children, how much more will God give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.

What Jesus does in this story is similar. He is saying that if shrewd, worldly people, like the dishonest manager, can come to see the importance of relationships, then how much more should we do the same. Not following the example of the manager in using dishonesty to build relationships but following his example of learning to prioritise relationships in life and in work.

Why is this so important? Jesus throws out a hint when he says “make friends for yourself … so that … you will be welcomed in the eternal home.” Jesus seems to be hinting that the relationships we form now in some way continue into eternity. Paul says something similar in 1 Corinthians 13 when he writes that faith, hope and love remain using a word for ‘remain’ which suggests that acts of faith, hope and love continue into eternity. Building relationships Jesus and Paul suggest may not just be good for the here and now but may also have eternal implications. All the more reason then for us to learn from this story and, whether we are at home, at work, or in our community, to prioritise the building of good relationships with those around us.

So, prioritising relationships, Jesus says, is about preparing for eternity and he specifically tells us this story that we might be welcomed into the eternal homes. Why is this so? Well, the answer is very simple. In heaven there will be nothing to fix, nothing to solve, and therefore no work to be done. In heaven there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things will have passed away. In heaven there will be nothing we can do for others, because God will have done everything for us. So, what will there be to do? Heaven is all about our relationships; being with God, with ourselves, with others, and with creation. Heaven is all about enjoying our relationships to the full for what they are.

In Philippians 3 we are told to imitate those who set their minds on heavenly things because our citizenship is in heaven. Citizenship is all about belonging to a particular community together with all the other members of that community. In relation to heaven, it is about being in relationship with God’s people. So, if heaven is about anything at all, it is about relationship.

Jesus wants us to prepare for heaven. The writer to the Philippians wants us to set our minds on our citizenship in heaven. They are calling us to live God’s future now, to anticipate what heaven will be like in the here and now, in the present. We do that by doing what Jesus told this parable to encourage; prioritising relationships – prioritising our being with God, being with ourselves, being with others and being with creation now.

That is what incarnational mission and ministry is all about. After all, Jesus spent 90% of his incarnation in Nazareth being with his friends and family. He prioritised relationships in his life and wants us to do the same in ours.

Queen Elizabeth provides us with an example of one who did this. Throughout her 70-year reign, the Queen met and spoke to thousands of ordinary people up and down the country. She shared a unique relationship with her subjects and worked tirelessly to serve us to the best of her ability. Those sharing their memories of the Queen at this time have consistently noted this aspect of her life saying things like: “I expected her to be aloof, but she was the opposite – compassionate and understanding” or “She was incredibly easy to talk to and the twinkle in her eye when she smiled is a sight I’ll never forget” or “She was genuinely interested in what everybody doing.” 

When we prioritise relationships in life, we anticipate heaven and live God’s future now.

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Delerious? - Now Is The Time.

Friday, 6 November 2020

Preparing for heaven

In his teaching Jesus sometimes uses the formula; if someone who is bad can do X then how much more should you or how much more will God do X. He uses it, for example, when he talks about God giving the Holy Spirit: if father’s who are bad know how to give good gifts to their children, how much more will God give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.

What Jesus does in this parable from Luke’s Gospel is similar (Luke 16. 1-9). Here he says that if shrewd, worldly people, like this dishonest manager or steward, can come to see the importance of relationships, then how much more should we do the same. Not following the example of the manager in using dishonesty to build relationships but following his example of learning to prioritise relationships in life and in work.

Thinking about the work-life balance of the Manager helps us to see what is really going on in this story. At the beginning of the story, friendships and responsibility seem low on the Manager’s list of priorities. He is managing his employer’s property but he’s also wasting his employer’s money. It seems likely that his life is focused primarily around his work and money. However, when his job comes under threat, he suddenly realises that relationships – friendships – are actually more important than work and money and then figures out a quick way of building friendships. At the end of the story, if we return to his work-life balance, work will have decreased in importance to him while friendships and responsibility for his own future will have increased.

Prioritising relationships, Jesus says, is about preparing for eternity. He specifically tells us this story that we might be welcomed into the eternal homes. Why is this so? Well, the answer is very simple. In heaven there will be nothing to fix, nothing to solve, and therefore no work to be done. In heaven there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things will have passed away. In heaven there will be nothing we can do for others, because God will have done everything for us. So, what will there be to do? Heaven is all about our relationships; being with God, with ourselves, with others, and with creation. Heaven is all about enjoying our relationships to the full for what they are.

In Philippians 3 we are told to imitate those who set their minds on heavenly things because our citizenship is in heaven. Citizenship is all about belonging to a particular community together with all the other members of that community. In relation to heaven, it is about being in relationship with God’s people. So, if heaven is about anything at all, it is about relationship.

Jesus wants us to prepare for heaven. The writer to the Philippians wants us to set our minds on our citizenship in heaven. They are calling us to live God’s future now, to anticipate what heaven will be like in the here and now, in the present. We do that by doing what Jesus told this parable to encourage; prioritising relationships – prioritising our being with God, being with ourselves, being with others and being with creation now.

That is what incarnational mission and ministry is all about. Jesus spent 90% of his incarnation in Nazareth being with his friends and family. Just as he prioritised relationships in his life, so he wants us to do the same because that is how we anticipate heaven and live God’s future now.

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Nickel Creek - Reason's Why.

Thursday, 2 July 2020

The fundamental human problem is isolation

Here's the reflection I shared in today's lunchtime Eucharist for St Martin-in-the-Fields:

A group of people brought a paralyzed man lying on a bed to Jesus and Jesus responded to their faith (Matthew 9. 1-8). We often read of Jesus responding to people’s faith when he heals and also of Jesus limiting his healing in places like Nazareth where a lack of faith was shown. A lack of faith would have meant that people simply didn’t ask Jesus to help them. Faith, by contrast, opened up the possibility of change, of something new or different occurring. In Hebrews we read that without faith it is impossible to please God, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

Those who brought this man to Jesus believed and were rewarded but not initially in the way they anticipated. They came to Jesus hoping for healing but Jesus responded by forgiving the man’s sins. At the time illness and sin were often equated those who were ill were accused of being punished by God for their sins. Jesus, however, on another occasion, specifically rejected that argument. As a result, we can be sure that Jesus is not making that connection here.

Instead, he could be saying that, for each of us, addressing our sinfulness is of more importance than any other issue or aspect of lives. Whatever the presenting issue in our lives, even something as significant as total paralysis, each pales into insignificance compared to the issue of sin which ultimately cuts us off from relationship with God. Sin is fundamentally living without God. It is being in that place where we don’t have faith, don’t believe and therefore close off the possibility of relationship. Sin means we cannot be know we are with God, because we don’t believe, and without God we are ultimately cut off from all that is good. Paralysis is an appropriate metaphor for this experience because, when you are paralyzed, you cannot go to be with anyone else. Paralysis is, therefore, an isolating experience unless others come to you or, as in this instance, bring you to others.

Jesus’ whole life is geared around reversing sin and the isolation it causes. Through his incarnation and nativity he became one of us, moving into our neighbourhood to be Emmanuel, ‘God with us.’ As Sam Wells has stated, “Jesus gives everything that he is for the cause of being with us, for the cause of embracing us within the essence of God’s being.” Ultimately, on the cross, he takes our sin and isolation onto himself to the extent that he loses his own being with God the Father. When he cries out on the cross, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,’ Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, was choosing between being with the Father or being with us. Here is astonishing good news; at the central moment in history, Jesus chose us. “That is the epicentre of the Christian faith and our very definition of love.”

As a result, Jesus can forgive and overcome sin and isolation for each one of us. He can restore us to relationship with God, because he has broken down every barrier that stood between ourselves and God. His incarnation, death and resurrection give him authority to restore relationship with God for all who are separated from God. That is what he offers to the paralyzed man, that is what he debates with the scribes, and that is what he demonstrates by returning to the paralyzed man the ability to overcome isolation by proactively going to be with others.

“If the fundamental human problem is isolation,” Sam Wells argues, “then the solutions we are looking for do not lie in the laboratory or the hospital or the frontiers of human knowledge or experience. Instead the solutions lie in things we already have — most of all, in one another.” Instead of needing others to be with him, the previously paralyzed man can now: be “with” people in poverty and distress even when there is nothing he can do “for” them; be “with” people in grief and sadness and loss even when there is nothing to say; be “with” and listen to and walk with those he finds most difficult rather than trying to fob them off with a gift or a face-saving gesture.

In other words he can bring the kingdom of heaven to others. That is a heaven which is worth aspiring to, “as it is a rejoining of relationship, of community, of partnership, a sense of being in the presence of another in which there is neither a folding of identities that loses their difference nor a sharpening of difference that leads to hostility, but an enjoyment of the other that evokes cherishing and relishing.” “The theological word for this is communion.” That is what the previously paralyzed man has been enabled to achieve.

To what extent, I wonder, is that something to which we aspire or seek? Does sin paralyze and isolate us or are we freed up to be with others in relationship?

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T. Bone Burnett - Trap Door.

Saturday, 28 July 2018

Encounter: St Martin-in-the-Fields Autumn Lecture Series 2018


I wonder how you have been changed by the people, places and events you have encountered?

‘Come and see,’ Jesus says to his first disciples in John’s Gospel; and they do just that. In the Gospel accounts, Jesus’ disciples witness his face-to-face encounters with a remarkable diversity of people - those of other nations, tribes, faiths, religious leaders, sinners seeking forgiveness, those possessed by evil, those seeking healing, those who betray him, and those whose lives will be forever transformed by his presence. It is not only those who encounter Jesus who are changed, but also those who witness those encounters, passing them on to others, retelling his stories.

Our Autumn Series of lectures at St Martin-in-the-Fields will focus on this theme of encounter. How are we changed by the people, events or objects when we meet them face to face? How do prejudices shift? How are new insights born? What inspires us to new ways of being and relating to God and to others? How do we become who we truly are through those we meet? How do we encounter God in our lives? In each of these lectures prominent and inspirational leaders, thinkers and practitioners will be speaking from a personal but also public perspective about the way such encounters have changed the course of their lives.

This lecture series will be supported by an exhibition, Encounters, in St Martin’s foyer and lightwell by the artist Nicola Green. This series of portraits powerfully expresses a series of historic meetings Green was privileged to witness between spiritual leaders around the globe, from Popes to the Dalai Lama to Chief Rabbis, Grand Muftis, Archbishops and Swamis. Encounters is accompanied by the launch of academic book Encounters: The Art of Interfaith Dialogue.

Come and see: Encounters an Exhibition by Nicola Green,
St Martin’s Foyer and Light Well, from 17 September-19 November

Click here for more information about the Autumn Lecture Series.

- Revd Richard Carter

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M Ward - For Beginners.

Sunday, 16 October 2016

Reality reshaped by disability

Day two of Prophets & Seers, a weekend of events exploring disability and church at St Martin-in-the-Fields began with a Eucharist and healing service for St Luke’s Day reflecting on the themes of the weekend and using liturgy written by St Martin’s Disability Advisory Group and Healing Team. The service included the laying on of hands and anointing with oil, accompanied by prayers for healing for individuals, someone else or the wider world. A screening of the acclaimed documentary film Notes on Blindness also took place in St Martin’s Hall. The film is based on John Hull’s audio diaries, as he reflected on his journey into blindness. Joining us for the screening were the filmmakers and Marilyn Hull.

Here is my sermon from the St Luke's Day Eucharist:
 


Our symbol for this year's weekend of events exploring disability and church is that of ripples on a lake. This weekend we are celebrating five years of conferences on disability and church organised by St Martin's and Inclusive Church, whilst also celebrating the profound influence of the theologian John Hull, who spoke in past years at the conference, and who died last year. The image of ripples was chosen to represent the rippling out of influences from the conference, John Hull and our own Disability Advisory Group.

I want to use that same image in a different way this morning. In the novel ‘The Book of Questions’ by Edmond Jabès, a rabbi speaks of ripples on a lake as representing a face with marks, wrinkles or wounds which reflects the face of God. If we understand the image of ripples in that way then we can make a connection between the image and the story of Jacob, from today’s Old Testament reading (Genesis 32. 22 - 32). Jacob’s story is of a journey from a selfish and ambitious focus on himself to a place of valuing relationships and the founding of a nation, where the moment of transition involves a disabling experience after wrestling with God. He carried the marks of that experience with him as he limped into a period of his life that had significance for the many, rather than the few. His disability reflected the work of God in his life.

This morning I want to explore how our reality can be reshaped by disability by comparing and contrasting the story of Jacob with that of two writers who both wrestled with God in relation to their experience of disability. The first of these, Jack Clemo, was one of the most extraordinary poets of the twentieth century. Although not as widely recognised as he should be, the 100th anniversary of his birth, in the heart of Cornwall’s China Clay Country, has been rightly celebrated this year.

Jack became deaf at the age of nineteen and blind in his thirties. These experiences of disability which combined with his rural location and his strong Evangelical faith, which was at odds with an increasingly secularized Britain, all served to make him an isolated outsider calling out ‘from the margins.’ His is a poetry which has power as he finds words to articulate his condition and convictions in his experience of marginalisation.

He used the landscape of the clayworks where he lived for much of his life - a landscape that had been violently shaped by industrial working - as a metaphor for the invading Gospel of Christ. His focus was on ‘the innate sinful condition of ‘nature,’ sin having warped nature just as much as humankind, with only God’s intervention able to restore the intended state of grace. As a result, he ‘believed his own suffering’ (for that was how he viewed his disabilities) ‘was necessary, but only as evidence for the crucial purification of original sin.’ So he declared that suffering (meaning his experience of disability) ‘in itself had taught me nothing; it had merely created the conditions in which joy could teach me, and so it could never be the last word or even the vitalizing word in my Christian adventure.’

Jack believed that God would invade his isolation by giving him the threefold happiness of healing, marriage and success as an Evangelical poet. As a result, he made few attempts to live with his disabilities, refusing to learn braille for example, and wrote some poetry which seems critical of those who chose to live with the experience of disability rather than seeking cure through God's invasive power. He achieved a measure of success as a poet and also married in his 50’s, but, despite much prayer for healing over many years and many moments when he thought healing had come, never experienced the physical healing which he fervently sought. His biographer, Luke Thompson, writes that ‘However we interpret Jack’s beliefs about the role of God in his life, they seem wrong. Over and over again, his statements and expectations were disproved; the signs and patterns perceived were incorrect; God’s promises were broken. It would be possible to construct a picture of a divinity working through Jack’s life, but it would require a complete renegotiation of the terms.’ That is, in part, because Jack only valued his disabilities as an arena in which God could demonstrate his healing powers to an unbelieving world.

By contrast we can consider the experience of the John Hull who, in the early 1980s, after decades of steady deterioration, lost his sight. ‘To help him make sense of the ensuing upheaval in his life, he began to keep an audio diary. Across three years, he created a unique testimony of loss, rebirth and renewal, excavating the interior world of blindness.’ ‘Based on these original recordings and his published diaries ‘Touching the Rock’, [the film] Notes on Blindness recreates his ‘journey through emotional turmoil and spiritual crisis to a renewed perception of the world and the discovery of ‘a world beyond sight’.’

In the book and film we travel with John Hull ‘farther and farther into the world … of blindness, until finally he comes to a point where he can no longer summon up memories of faces, of places, even memories of the light. This is the bend in the tunnel: beyond this is “deep blindness.” And yet at this … darkest … point, there comes a mysterious change—no longer an agonized sense of loss … but a new sense of life and creativity and identity. “One must recreate one’s life or be destroyed,” Hull writes, and it is precisely re-creation, the creation of an entirely new organization and identity, which [he] described ... At this point … [he] wonders if blindness is not “a dark, paradoxical gift” and an entry—unsought … but to be received—into a new and deep form of being.’ In reflecting on the nature of that gift, John said that, ‘After living with it and meditating on it for some time, I realized that blindness is not just a loss but it is one of the great human states which have characteristics of its own.’

‘My works,’ he wrote, ‘are … a yearning to overcome the abyss which divides blind people from sighted people. In seeking to overcome that abyss I've emphasized the uniqueness of the blind condition—blindness is a world. I've also sought to show that it's one of a number of human worlds. That sight is also a world. And that to gain our full humanity, blind people and sighted people need each other’. As a result, before his untimely death last year, John called on disabled people to challenge the church with a distinct prophetic ministry based on their own lived experience.

Both Jack Clemo and John Hull wrestled with God as a result of their experiences of disability. Jack increasingly wrestled with the reality that he had not been healed. His struggle was with God’s failure to grant to him the supernatural transformation that he desired and this desire and struggle left him isolated and lacking in solidarity with other disabled people. Because he viewed his disabilities as an arena in which God would demonstrate his power to cure, he did not explore the dimensions of the worlds of blindness and deafness that he inhabited or their potential for relationship preferring to remain waiting independently for rescue from those worlds. As a result, he was personally dependent on those around him and his poetry became strident and simplistic when he reasserted his belief in a cure that he was not receiving.

John, by contrast, recognised that he had been given the gift of experiencing the world of blindness realising that it is a world to inhabit, not to seek to leave, and his wrestling with God was the wrestle to reshape his reality, to receive a new and right spirit to trust that in the midst of the world of blindness, truth will be experienced and shared. He realised that, as a result of his twin experiences, he was able to speak into the worlds of blind and sighted people and emphasise their need of one another.

How do these stories relate to Jacob’s experience of wrestling with God? Jacob divided his family on the basis of his own ambition buying his elder brother Esau’s birthright and tricking his dying Father into giving a blessing that also belonged by right to his brother. While primarily selfish in a way that was not the case for Jack Clemo, his independent isolation does have similarities with Jack’s isolation and independent vocation. Jacob then wanted to be reconciled to Esau but was worried that Esau’s reaction toward him would be aggressive, so he set up a series of gifts for Esau and spent an anxious night wrestling with God. His experience of wrestling with God was a liminal moment in his life, a rite of transition from an essentially self-centred individualistic existence to become forefather to a people who, like the sand on the seashore, could not be numbered. This change involved crossing a boundary (the river Yabbok), struggling (with God) and naming (as Jacob became known as the Patriarch to Israel, the people who struggle with God). He limped away from this experience but went with God’s blessing, so his experience of change and transition was both disabling and a blessing. His reality was reshaped, enabling him to receive the generous act of reconciliation which his brother afforded him the next day.

Like John Hull, Jacob found his disabling experience to be one through which he gained a greater understanding of himself, his role, his destiny, his people, his world and his God. The result, as for John, was renewed relationships. Unlike Jack, who thought cure would demonstrate God’s reality and who, therefore, separated himself from other disabled people, Jacob and John experienced disability as the threshold to re-creation, renewal and relationship. That is a deeper, fuller experience of healing and a greater demonstration of God’s reality and presence. To return to the image with which we began, the marks of their experiences reflected the face of God.

John Hull taught that blind people and sighted people, disabled people and non-disabled people need each other. That realisation begins as disabled people challenge the church with a distinct prophetic ministry based on their own lived experience. The Greek poet Tasos Leivaditis has described just such a moment of realisation and so I end with his prose-poem ‘The Blind Man and the Lamp’:

‘IT WAS NIGHT and I had made the greatest decision of
the century — I would save humanity — but how? — as
thousands of thoughts were tormenting me I heard footsteps,
opened the door and beheld the blind man from the opposite
room walking down the hallway and holding a lamp — he
was about to go down the stairs — ‘What is he doing with
the lamp?’, I asked myself and suddenly an idea flashed
through my mind — I found the answer — ‘My dear brother,’
I said to him, ‘God has sent you,’
and with zeal we both got down to work . . .’

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Mahalia Jackson - There Is A Balm In Gilead.