Surrender, Gratitude and the "Little Way"

So this week we’ve stepped once again into the holy season of Lent. And to be completely honest I love Lent – it’s probably my favourite party of the liturgical year. But this might not be the case for all of you - some of you may approach Lent with a sense of dread, thinking of it as weeks of misery, austerity and self‑denial.

But some of us see it very differently. We feel a kind of relief. A homecoming. A chance to finally exhale and let go. Lent can be a season of spiritual recharging, a time when we’re able to leave behind the noise of the world for just long enough for us to hear the whisper of God.

And today’s Gospel draws us into this

Matthew tells us that “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness.” He wasn’t pushed or forced but led, guided and accompanied by the Spirit. The wilderness isn’t a place Jesus stumbles into by accident or is thrown into by force; it was a place of intention and purpose, a place of encounter. And if we choose to follow him there, it can for us become a place of transformation.

We might imagine the wilderness as a place that’s hostile. But what if it’s actually a place of growth? A place which allows the unnecessary things of life to fall away and those which are actually important to become clearer?

Jesus goes into the wilderness right after his baptism, right after hearing the words: “You are my beloved.” He doesn’t go there seeking God’s love or approval. He goes there already held by it. The wilderness becomes the space where he learns to trust that love more deeply.

And that’s the invitation of Lent—not to prove ourselves to God, but to remember who we already are, who God created us to be. The noise and busyness of life often causes our true self or purpose to become masked.

This is where St Thérèse of Lisieux becomes a wise companion – my devotion this Lent is a book of daily meditations which reflect upon her “little way”. Thérèse never travelled far, never preached, never founded anything. Her “Little Way” is simply the way of trusting love in the small, hidden places of life.

She once wrote, “Jesus does not demand great actions from us, but simply surrender and gratitude” which could be a great way for us to approach Lent.

Thérèse teaches us that holiness isn’t found in heroic feats or grand gestures but in small acts of courage, in tenderness, and in trust. She would tell us that the wilderness isn’t frightening when we walk it with Jesus. It becomes the place where we discover that God meets us in our smallness, and ordinariness, not in our seeking to be perfect or important.

And that’s good news for us - because it’s a reminder that God’s love isn’t conditional. The wilderness isn’t a test we have to pass, but a space where we learn to rest in the truth that we’re already beloved.

The three temptations Jesus faces aren’t random; they’re invitations to choose who he will be.

The first temptation is “Turn these stones into bread.” This is the temptation to define ourselves by what we produce. But Lent whispers: You are more than your output.

The second is “Throw yourself down from the temple.” This is the temptation to prove our worth. But Lent whispers: You don’t need to perform for God.

Finally Jesus is told “All these kingdoms I will give you.” This is the temptation to grasp for power. But Lent whispers: True strength is found in love.

Thérèse would smile at these temptations because she knew them well. She knew the pressure to be impressive, to be extraordinary. And she gently reminds us that Jesus chooses a different path—the path of humility, simplicity, and trust in God’s love.

I like to think of Lent like a spiritual retreat I didn’t have to book. It’s a season that gives us permission to slow down, to simplify, to just breathe. In its wilderness we can be honest about our hungers, our longing and our questions – our own temptations.

And Jesus meets us there - not with judgment, but with companionship.

The wilderness is where Jesus became more fully himself. And it’s where we can become more fully ourselves too.

Not by striving to be our best and most righteous self. Not by punishing ourselves for being human and often not living up to what we think God expects of us. But by letting go of what no longer serves us and holding fast to what does.

I hope that for us Lent isn’t about feeling shame for not being the perfect reflection of Jesus, or about what we’re denying ourselves. I hope it’s about how expansive the wilderness is, allowing us to make room for God’s voice amid the noise of our lives. I hope it’s about choosing love over fear, compassion over cynicism, and presence over distraction.

I hope it’s about remembering that we’re not alone in the wilderness. Jesus walks with us. The Spirit leads us. And I hope that even the angels – in those moments of unexpected grace - minister to us along the way.

Perhaps this Lent, inspired by St Thérèse, we might try a “little way” of our own, to help open our hearts and minds to what we might find or learn about ourselves in it’s wilderness:

We might do this by spending a few minutes in silence each day

Performing smalls act of kindness

Being gentle with the words we say to ourselves

Choosing sabbath rest instead of rush

And committing to justice that comes from a place of compassion

These are small, little things, but they might be tiny seeds of transformation.

I invite you to see Lent as I do, as a beautiful God-given gift. A gift where the Spirit leads us into a place where we can hear again the truth spoken at Jesus’ baptism which also is true for us: “You are my beloved.”

We join Jesus in the wilderness not with fear, but with anticipation. Not with heaviness, but with hope. Not to prove ourselves, but to rediscover the God who already delights in us.

May this Lent recharge our spirits. May it deepen our trust. And may it lead us, step by small step, to be encircled within God’s love.

Amen.

Matthew 4:1–11 

4 Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2 He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. 3 The tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.’ 4 But he answered, ‘It is written,

“One does not live by bread alone,

    but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”’

5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, 6 saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written,

“He will command his angels concerning you”,

    and “On their hands they will bear you up,

so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.”’

7 Jesus said to him, ‘Again it is written, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”’

8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour; 9 and he said to him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’ 10 Jesus said to him, ‘Away with you, Satan! for it is written,

“Worship the Lord your God,

    and serve only him.”’

11 Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

Talking your language

Sermon based upon Proverbs 8.1,22-31, Colossians 1.15-20 & John 1.1-14

Credit to Jane Williams for the thread of thought about communication, Richard Rohr for his meditation on dualistic thinking and Kermode & Mayo for the Denis Villeneuve interview

I want to transport you back to December 2000. Mike and I were visiting the Christmas markets in Hamburg, back before the German markets ever came to Manchester. I was determined not to be a typical English tourist and knowing we’d be getting a taxi back from the town centre to the harbour I had practised the German phrase I needed to get us to our boat.

We hailed a cab and clearing my throat I confidently said "der Hafen bitte", the driver looked blank. I tried again, less confident but sure I had the right phrase, "der Hafen bitte..??" Still blank. Once more, rather weakly, I tried "der Hafen bitte???: Still blank. Defeated I tentatively said “the harbour please…?”, “Ya” the driver replied and 10 minutes later we were there.

I thought I’d tried really hard and that the driver would understand me, I thought I was talking his language but no matter how hard I tried he just wasn’t getting it. Communication is so fundamental to our lives. It’s part of everything we do and most importantly key to our understanding and learning in almost everything.

If communication isn’t clear or effective for us, if people aren’t talking our language we might misunderstand, only partly understand or miss the point completely.

I was listening to an interview last week with the French film director Denis Villeneuve. His decision to make films in English, not his native language, struck me, I was intrigued by his career choice, like when I work with overseas nurses, with all the complexities of medical language.

The pauses in the interview were at times noticeable as Villeneuve tried to find the English words he was after, presumably quickly translating in his head.

Whilst contemplating all of this I remembered that communication is a central theme of Villeneuve’s most well-known film, the Sci-fi drama Arrival. Somehow I keep writing sermons about films- but they are one of my biggest passions.

In this film 8 alien space craft have arrived in 8 different locations on earth and the US military are trying to figure out their intentions. They enlist the help of Louise, a linguistics professor whose job it becomes to interpret the complex circular symbols of the life form’s written language.

This may sound a little similar to the set-up of other earth invasion stories but what follows is quite nuanced and emphasises the importance of nuance in our own communications.

When Louise figures out how to ask why the aliens have come, they answer "offer weapon". However, a team in China translates this as "use weapon". Louise argues that the symbol interpreted as "weapon" might mean "tool”. “Use weapon” or “offer tool”.

These are very subtle differences in interpretation but completely change the meaning, a reason why interpreting the bible can be so problematic.

Biblical interpretation and translation is quite an art. It’s generally recognised that the classic King James Version is quite a poor translation of the original texts, many original meanings or inflections are altered, lost or changed entirely. One disciple even changes gender. One reason why the Church of England favours the NRSV translation is because it’s considered a more scholarly text, the interpretation more closely matching the meaning of the earliest copies of the scripture.

This brings me to today’s readings, which individually are beautiful and poetic but together they might form a narrative which for me is one of the greatest entries in the entire 3-year readings cycle.

The message flowing through each of them is that Christ has been the Creator’s eternal companion, whether called wisdom, Jesus or Word, each of these texts refer to the same being, in relationship with God throughout time, as much as time can relate to God, and throughout our written history of humankind’s relationship with God, even before the living person of Jesus, Christ has been the sign of God’s love and his way of communicating with us.

In Proverbs we see the presence of Christ as Wisdom at creation and in companionship with God before creation. We’re told wisdom leads to understanding, but you could read this as Christ leads to understanding.

The Colossians reading details Christ as the person of Jesus, all things created by and for him, God’s co-creator through whom God reconciles all things to himself, all things, including us.

Finally, in that beautiful prologue to John’s gospel we have Christ the word, who was with God and is God.

Here we have, written throughout history, how God has used Christ as his way of communicating with us, his way of helping us to understand and to know who he is, what he’s like and of his drawing us nearer, to make us all part of this too.

God delights in us and longs to draw us nearer, to have us understand ourselves and our purpose by giving us a way of understanding God and God’s purpose.

In these three readings we see that God’s whole purpose from beginning to end is to communicate with us and allow us to enter into that dialogue, to learn to speak God’s language. This is about a reciprocal relationship, not a holy dictatorship, which is why we get a choice, why God never forces himself upon us, and why God still reaches out to those not in communion with him and tries to re-establish a dialogue.

We have Jesus dwelling amongst us, as a way of helping us to learn God’s language, but like learning any language- like my failed attempts at German- it doesn’t always come easily. It takes time and we get things wrong. And like in the film Arrival sometimes we lose the nuance in the interpretation.

Mankind like to make things dualistic, people are good or bad, right or wrong and our bible gets used to back this up, when in truth life has way more nuance than that.

We’re nuanced and complex and we all live in the grey areas where not many things are either black or white, but do you know what? God delights in us anyway. God made us, loves us and wants us to be part of the conversation.

By moving away from a language of duality we’re more able to process things like infinity, mystery, grace, suffering, sexuality, death and love; the issues most people struggle with.

By spending time learning God’s language, exploring what a gift we've been given in Christ, we learn about God's true nature, which is love and compassion.

God’s language, God’s word can be alive in each of us- and by that I mean the same as St John did; The Word, Jesus embodied in each of us, the living word, embodying the loving and compassionate nature of God in all that we do. I believe that’s what God has tried to communicate to us from the beginning and throughout creation, and what we need to do is chose how we respond to that.

The 20th

Take Action

If our faith does not lead us to action, then it has become a dead creedal affirmation of lifeless beliefs. Some of us are already giving of our time, talent and treasure to the limits of our ability; others, maybe not. In either case, Jesus has given us all that is good in life; even love that makes it possible for us to love others.

Br. Robert L'Esperance

Too often Christians are thought of, to those outside the faith (and sometimes inside too), as people who reject, deny and condemn things, people and practices. If I thought that was what I was signing up for I would have run a mile! The faith I found was one of connection, justice, love and action. This is the faith the world should see in action throughout Advent. This is what we should be known for. Jesus was clear; we should be recognised as belonging to him by how we love.

Today I found joy in Sparkle Wednesday! I was thankful for my lovely student nurse and I felt helpless at how much I want to achieve before Christmas Day.

Scripture

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

John 13:34-35

The 19th

Go peaceful
in gentleness
through the violence of these days.
Give freely.
Show tenderness
in all your ways.

Through darkness,
in troubled times
let holiness be your aim.
Seek wisdom.
Let faithfulness
burn like a flame.

God speed you!
God lead you,
and keep you wrapped around His heart!
May you be known by love.

Be righteous.
Speak truthfully
in a world of greed and lies.
Show kindness.
See everyone
through heaven’s eyes.

God hold you,
enfold you,
and keep you wrapped around His heart.
May you be known by love.

Paul Field

Kindness, compassion and gentleness; I can't think of three more attractive qualities in the people I enjoy to spend time with. We can never have enough of these things. What greater reputation could we have than to be known by love? Let Christmas ignite our compassion, our hospitality. Open our hearts and doors.

Today I found joy in my job, was thankful for my bed and felt helpless over the future of the NHS.

Scripture

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

The 9th

I am not here to pass judgement
or point the finger at anyone.
My name was written in the sand
as one who is forgiven.
Strengthened with hope, impervious to shame,
I will walk freely like the freshness
of the dry lands after rain.

Let light spill out of heaven
through my life,
dispelling mediocrity and silent blame.
Too many people, guilt-stricken, wounded,
walk in regret,
feeling bad about failing,
apologise even for breathing.

Raw belief, a passion for others
grows in me,
encircling each moment
with instinctive prayer.
I will carry the freshness
of the dry lands after rain.
Compassion lives in me again.

Andy Raine

I want compassion and passion for others to be my defining qualities. I want who I am on the inside to be shaped by my response to the world and people around me.
I think it would be really easy to resent people around me celebrating Christmas whilst I keep Advent, but I love the joy I see in people; I see God reflected in them. I've seen a trend amongst some religious people- to be very pompous about Advent, to have an air of superiority (ok, I may have been a bit that way myself at times) about not celebrating until Christmas Day, but in the words of Mr Emerson in Forster's A Room With a View "Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?"

Today I found joy in having a lie-in, was thankful for having a warm home and felt helpless about people feeling overwhelmed by Christmas.

Scripture

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you.

Jeremiah 29:11-12

Anointing our communities

Dusting off the blog following my ordination at Manchester cathedral two weeks ago. This is my first full length sermon since last autumn and my first blog since March. This was based on Luke 10:25-37

I’m so excited to have the privilege of standing before you today, that my first service as a deacon is a celebration of Wholeness and Healing. As a nurse, with a particular calling to ministry in Christie hospital, where I work, it really is a joy to be able to explore a little of what that might mean.
And this will be a sermon about healing and wholeness, although maybe not in a way that you might think. When we pray for healing, and for a wholeness that comes from a more complete relationship with God, we’re often thinking about health- physical and mental- of ourselves and of those we love or care about.
That’s an incredibly important aspect of “good health”, and even if a physical healing doesn’t happen we know our prayers draw us closer to God and make our relationship more whole, fully rounded. But as Jesus demonstrates in today’s Gospel reading, all about healing and compassion, the healing that God brings is a reflection of the character of God; generous, gracious and much, much more vast than any of us can contemplate.
The parable of the Good Samaritan perhaps has the problem of being too familiar, too well known. We know it as the ultimate example of what it means to be a good neighbour, reminding us that everyone we meet is our neighbour, and how compassion can come from the most unlikely sources.
If in first century Palestine you’d put the words “good” and “Samaritan” together in a Jewish community they would’ve been outraged. It’s hard for us to get our heads around how radical Jesus was being here because “Samaritan”, through our familiarity with the parable, represents compassion, kindness and goodness.
The Jews hated the Samaritans. Hated. In the words of retired bishop and theologian Tom Wright Samaritans were wrong. Everything about them was wrong. Wrong worship, wrong theology and wrong behaviour. Religious division going back centuries caused this particular people to be despised by the Jewish community more than any other.
Now not only is this man from a despised people portrayed as the hero of our story, but the upright Jewish people – the priest and Levite – are the baddies. This would have been outrageous to the listeners.
Earlier this year as part of an exercise on one of my ministry training weekends we were asked to re-write this parable to contextualise it for today. How would you rewrite it? There are a variety of interpretations- the injured man is an Israeli Jew and the rescuer a Palestinian Muslim, a Christian is made redundant and helped by his Muslim neighbour, an elderly British lady is attacked by a gang of British teenagers and helped by a Polish migrant. These might not be overly imaginative but there’s a lot of twists we can give this to shake it up to make it relevant for today.
At the moment this feels like a very important time for to re-evaluate our own definitions of “neighbour”, and examine if we as a nation, like the people Jesus addressed, have inherited hostilities, ingrained in our very culture.
A report in the Independent Newspaper last week suggests that reports of Hate crimes have risen by 57% since the EU referendum vote. That is staggering. For someone who believed we lived in a tolerant multi-ethnic society I really am having to re-evaluate my own perceptions.
Part of my own interpretation is down to my own context. I work for the NHS, a wonderful example of a diverse multi-ethnic organisation, where on any given day that I walk onto the ward I might be greeted by colleagues of Polish, Hungarian, German, Swedish, Malaysian, Israeli, Pakistani, Indian, Jamaican, Moroccan, Somali and Spanish origin. I don’t experience racism, just a well-integrated team. This may be in part to our being a tertiary centre, who very rarely experience any degree of aggression or abuse, which sadly can be an issue in other NHS settings.
Despite by own bubble of idealism there clearly is a problem, whatever your opinion on the referendum, and this is not a sermon about that, it has stirred some very strong underlying emotions which have clearly been bubbling just under the surface waiting to burst forth.
What’s our response to this?
As Christians are we beyond the tribalism which facilitates fear and hatred of neighbour? Or have we created a tribalism of our own? Denis McBride writes that in society we maintain our identity through asserting our difference, whether through badges, flags, attitude, beliefs, stories or traditions. This is many ways is good for the church- we’re a people set apart, counter-cultural, but sometimes difference leads to the belief that one group is superior to another. Jesus is teaching that even when our beliefs differ from other’s we can still love “the other”.
In a recent interview leading writer in black theology Anthony Reddie stated that the basis of our faith is a radical appreciation of “the other” and a love of God which transcends our political and social limitations- faith is beyond tribalism, or should be. Our call to be counter-cultural is to counter the tribalism and assertion of identify which harms others. If our tradition invites us to fear or hate others we must reject that tradition, as it doesn’t belong to Jesus.
So how is this a sermon about healing? Well it’s about a healing which transcends the individual, although it begins with the individual. It’s about healing communities, healing a nation with deep wounds. This begins with our individual actions.
In the parable the injured man is healed with wine, oil and time. Wine and oil are two symbols we’ll encounter today; the wine of the eucharistic feast and oil of anointing which you may wish to receive afterwards. These symbols, alongside the prayers and time spent in worship, strengthen us, build us up, begin to facilitate an inner healing and form part of that more whole, or more rounded relationship with God.
What then are the oil and wine we share with the world to facilitate it’s healing? What can we anoint our communities with as a response to Jesus’ call to radical neighbourliness?
When the lawyer asks Jesus how he can get into heaven the answer is the shema, which is repeated in our liturgy each Sunday: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself”. It’s that simple. That simplicity is too much, or maybe not enough for the lawyer. Where’s the catch? It can’t really be that easy? The difficult bit comes when Jesus explains the extent of who is our neighbour; each and every child of God.
The healing we need for a wounded people comes from love. Love as a verb. Love as an action. Loving our neighbour as ourselves. Our oil of anointing to take out into the world is love. Love leads to unity even where there is difference. An amazing image for this is in Psalm 133:

How very good and pleasant it is
   when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
   running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
   running down over the collar of his robes.

Our call is to go out and not just anoint people with love, but pour it all over the place! Act lovingly in all that we do, towards all whom we meet.
If we do this, maybe others will want to do the same. Difference, whilst at times scary, can also be very attractive. It can get you noticed. It can spark a revolution.
Let’s be different by pouring out love in a time of fear. Healing our communities begins here, in this parable. Who was the neighbour in the story, Jesus asks the lawyer- The one who showed mercy. Jesus said to him “Go and do likewise”.
Amen.

When is Faith Not Enough?

I delivered this sermon on the 6th Sept at our main morning service. I was a little concerned as we had a surprise baptism but it was really well received by the family.

The readings it's based upon are Isaiah 35:4-7a, Psalm 146, James 2:1-10, 14-17 and Mark 7:24-end

Thursday morning was a pretty emotional one for several reasons. For many of our local children, including my son Jacob, it meant a return to school. For several of our St Michael’s family- George, Amelia, Sarah-Jane and Amber- it was their first day at secondary school.

When I clicked on to Facebook, as I often do first thing in the morning, my timeline was filled with photos of my friend’s children in smart, clean, new uniforms all ready for the school run. I always find this emotional- seeing children I’ve known since being babies starting school, moving on to the next year group and moving on to new schools. It’s particularly poignant this year as my daughter Faith starts high school tomorrow.

There were however two things which contrasted with the flurry of new term activity. The first was from my friend whose son started reception this week. He has an as yet undiagnosed developmental delay and my friend’s one wish for her son’s first year at school is for him to be able to say his first words.

For me this put into context all the worry we go through over which school our children will be going to, where they’ll get the best opportunities, what their SAT results will be, when all my friend wishes is to hear her son speak.

It’s a reminder that every child is beautiful, unique and to be valued and loved. They each grow and develop in their own unique way and all that perhaps really matters is that they know they are loved and valued and that we enable them to love and value others in return.

But there was another picture of a child that filled my computer and TV screen on Thursday. It was of a three year old boy called Aylan Kurdi whose body had washed up upon a Turkish beach after he, along with his five year old brother Galip and mother Rihan, drowned when the dingy they were fleeing the Syrian town of Kobane in capsized.

I’m sure many of you have seen these pictures- and there’s an argument to be had about whether they should have been shared. If you haven’t seen the pictures you may have read or listened to this family’s story and felt the same emotions I felt- dis-ease, dis-comfort, sadness, helplessness and some guilt as well.

Every child should be valued and loved. As I was expressing my love for my children by readying them for the new school term, Rihan Al-Kurdi was expressing hers by fleeing from Syria. That decision cost their lives but as I’ve heard repeated so many times this week- you would only put your child in the boat if it was safer than staying on the land.

These pictures have given a name and a face to the continuing refugee crisis in Europe which has often been portrayed in a very different way by the mainstream media.

If anything even remotely positive can be taken from such a devastating loss of young lives it will hopefully be a shift in our national perspective to see these families in a different way- not as migrants moving west in search of jobs, affluence and a better standard of living but as people forced to flee or face horrors in their daily lives that we can only imagine.

In our church we’ve prayed many times for the ongoing crisis in the Middle East. We’ve prayed for those who are trying to live with it daily and for those who, like Aylan and his family, have died trying to escape from it.

Our reading from James today outlines a key theme of his epistle, one which has caused a lot of friction over the centuries in its apparent contradiction of the writings of Paul. When is faith not enough? Paul writes that faith alone marks us out as belonging to Christ, but James is passionate in his belief that if faith is genuine it will outwardly change us and our behaviour, leading us to perform good or charitable works. He asks us what’s the point of our blessing someone when what they really need is food because they’re starving to death. He goes as far as calling it sinful to bless a starving person instead of feeding them. It’s strong stuff.

James writes to a congregation showing favouritism to the rich, clean and healthy yet God does not show favouritism- a belief shared by the woman who approaches Jesus in the gospel reading. Jesus is quite alarming – even rude- in his first response, comparing gentiles to dogs, evoking the superiority of Israel’s claim to God’s blessing, but I can’t help but feel he’s trying to get a response from her, which he does. She has faith that God’s blessing is for her too.

In the passage just before this Jesus has been teaching about pulling down the barriers between Jews and gentiles, and here he puts it into practice. This is Jesus not just talking but acting- doing the thing he’s previously preached about.

A gentile is blessed by Jesus’ action- given equality with God’s chosen people. Jesus goes on to heal a deaf man. We’re not told if he’s a Jew or a gentile but the area he’s in is mainly non-Jewish.

Isaiah tells us what God has in store for those he blesses- eyes opened, ears unstopped, lame leaping and speechless singing. Whether these are physical or spiritual disabilities what’s promised is the restoration of wholeness to those deprived of the fullness of humanity- both physically and spiritually.

This restoration to wholeness is developed further in the psalm- Our God executes justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry, sets the prisoners free, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who are bowed down, loves the righteous and watches over the strangers.

In the Gospel Jesus in fulfilling this by his actions and God’s blessings are poured down upon all equally. We’re all equal and we all deserve God’s blessings and to be able to enjoy the beauty and diversity of His creation, whether we’ve been born into a comfortable and peaceful life in England or a dangerous and war damaged one in Syria.

My dilemma this week has been is MY faith enough, are my prayers enough? And if not what can I do? What action is in my power that reflects the weight upon my conscience as I look at the pictures Aylan? What can I do for the refugees who ARE the oppressed, the hungry, the bowed low and the strangers whom God blesses?

There are practical things that can be done such as supporting charities who work to help refugees, donating money and supplies and asking questions of those in power as to how we as a nation can realistically respond to the crisis.

Politically this is very complex – but I’ve been reminded many times this week of our national response to the post second would war refugee crisis, where richer countries came to an agreement on supporting the refugees the war had created. We acted out of compassion, we acted because it was the right thing to do. 

A chaplain once told me that James was the epistle of chaplains, which might be why today’s reading really resonates with me. James urges his congregation to treat the poor, dirty and sick with equity to the rich, clean and healthy. He urges them to meet the bodily needs of those who are suffering before their spiritual ones.

Is this how we should think about the refugee crisis? Are there times when we’re called to offer more than our prayers?

Prayer is important, it connects us to God. It develops our relationship with God. Intercessory prayer connects us to the world around us. Sometimes it’s the only way we can respond to the painful things we see in the world. We pray because we have faith that God responds. But faith is more than prayer, it’s more than what we do here on a Sunday. Being here refreshes and sustains us but what our faith does is take us out of here into the world to respond to what we find there.

When we see people deprived of the fullness of humanity, like Jesus we must back up what we pray for by our actions, remembering God’s blessing is for each one of us equally.

When God’s blessing is at work in the world, through us, we’ll see justice for the oppressed, the hungry fed, prisoners freed, eyes opened, the bowed down lifted up, and the strangers watched over.

I desire mercy

Advent Day Two

One of the readings at Morning Prayer today was from Matthew 12, where Jesus echoes Hosea when saying:

But if you had known what this means, “I desire mercy and not sacrifice”, you would not have condemned the guiltless.

It made me think about how I could maybe try and be more "merciful" through Advent. We're a very strange sort of people. If someone is off with us, or not as friendly as we'd expect, instead of thinking "are they ok?" We seem to jump to asking "what's their problem?!"
As joyful and joyous as Christmas can be it's also a season that can bring worry, loneliness, debt, stress and bad memories. One thing I will try to do this Advent is not jump to conclusions or take it personally if I encounter people who are grumpy or a bit off with me- none of us knows the problems and struggles of the people we casually meet each day. They may just be a grumpy toad, or they may be in need of a bit of compassion.