Prayer

Some of my first memories of praying by myself largely revolve around my early fears of what lurked in the darkness.  When I was younger, I was terrified of pure darkness, needing a night light until I was probably nearly 10.  (My brother would confirm this – once, when sharing his room because a guest was in mine, he was so disgusted by my need of a light in the room that he insisted that the main bedroom light was going to be left on all night.  Pretty sure my parents turned off the light once we were asleep, but the preceding fight has stuck with me…)

I was so afraid for a time of what might be under my bed or in my closets that I would only lay on my back, so no one (or nothing) could sneak up on me without me noticing.  I had plans, too, for a small hidey-hole in the wall (as I had a false sense of how thick walls between bedrooms were) that I could crawl into in case an intruder got into our house.

I was afraid of our house catching fire, of people lurking at the bottom of the stairs, of someone stabbing me in the back (because I was laying on my stomach).  And I was afraid of these things every night.

But, obviously, something had to give.

At some point, I remember convincing myself to try sleeping on my stomach.  And the praying began.

I prayed that God would give me the confidence to sleep the way I wanted to, and that I would trust God to keep me safe.  And that if it was my time to go (because someone had stabbed me), God would take me to heaven.  I prayed that if the house did catch on fire, that the smoke alarms would go off and I would wake up.  I prayed away the devils hiding in the closet, and replaced them with guardian angels hovering in the four corners of the room. 

At some point, I asked my parents to turn off the night light in my room when they came to bed at night, to train me to sleep without it (though, I still needed it to actually fall asleep.)  I gradually went downstairs enough during the night for a drink to prove that there was no one waiting on the landing to grab me.

And then, I started loving nighttime.  It’s when I prayed most, particularly as a child and teenager.  I’ve always had a hard time falling asleep (see why above!), so here was time magically set aside to let go of things.  I visualized boxing up my worries and sending them off to God, cutting any strings that wanted to stay attached to my wrist.

The habit of praying before sleep comes and goes these days, dependent often on our living situation and the opportunity for “alone time.”  But prayer remains a go-to solution for figuring my way through fears, practicing letting go of worries, and preparing my soul for rest.  Prayer is a therapy with unknowable blessings and consequences, but it seems a natural part of life – a place for quiet, for questions, for breaking down, and for getting on with things.

So be it.

Current Reads...

Another chance to see what we've been thinking about...

We've spent a good bit of time with our small but high quality youth group.  In fact, it's probably been one of our main highlights in the last year, gathering with the youth twice a month and doing anything from Bible studies to scavenger hunts to simply unpacking concepts like 'worship'.  Though we recognise that our remaining time with these kiddos is limited, I've felt a growing conviction that there's a looming and extensive conversation that needs to be had about how we envision youth involvement in Christianity in the next few years.  And it's going to require vulnerability, imagination, and discerning how God is already at work.

In this vein, I've read the bulk of Youth Work After Christendom by Nigel Pimlott and Jo Pimlott, which is a part of the 'After Christendom' series (highly recommended!)  It's a must-read for anyone who works with youth, cares about how we make space for youth in church, and how to cope with moving past the dying structures of Christendom.  Alternatively, you can hear one of the authors speak from a webinar taped last November.  Click here for the webinar, and scroll down to the recording under After Christendom series with Nigel Pimlott.

A second book I've been reading is True Prayer by Kenneth Leech.   This is certainly one of those books that should be taken a chapter at a time, allowing ideas to soak in (even if you're not in agreement with what the author says).  I first picked up this book as I was planning the third 'Food and Faith' worship service on Communion, as there is a chapter on Prayer and Communion.  The book concludes with a chapter on 'Prayer and Progress' which includes a discussion on silent prayer and retreats, which perhaps comes at an apt time in our lives as we face some very busy times ahead in the midst of a loud and spiritually congesting city.  Leech writes 'to go into retreat is not to 'opt out' of one's social responsibility, or to treat the life of the monastery or enclosed order as superior to that of the city streets...Retreats are a sharpening of our perception, a purifying of vision, a training programme for the spirit.  In retreat we seek to be able to go on serving the world with renewed strength without being dominated or swallowed up by it' (True Prayer, pg 180).  

In the third book I'm reading, The Way of Tea and Justice, Becca Stevens also writes of the purpose of retreats, and agrees with Leech saying, 'Retreats ... should remind us that we can be the same person on the mountaintop as we are in the valley of work...  Retreats are not places to reinvent ourselves or pretend we are holier than we actually are.  They are places to recollect ourselves so that we can live and not get weary from all the work there is to do' (The Way, 174).  Her book, much like her previous book noted in my post in August, focuses primarily on the work of Thistle Farms in Nashville, and their commitment to justice towards women as they opened a café.  It's a simple, inspiring read that would challenge most to actively and thoughtfully consider one's consumption of even the most mundane of items. 

(Please note:  I have supplied links to Amazon.co.uk, but encourage you to see if a local bookstore has copies if you're interested in hard copies.  My primary purpose was to supply images of book covers and basic info one might need to acquire said books.) 

Heading into Advent

I've had the luck of joining a merry band of craft artists who spend Advent slowing down to make art for the public sphere.  Last night, the first bike tyre-star was delicately placed in a tree, and I'm honoured to be the 'artist' who made it!

See our reflections throughout the month at chatsstars.blogspot.com!

Food and Faith

Again, I'm passing on something pre-written for a service with our church here in Hackney. We've had three wonderful Sundays of looking at the intersections of food and faith, talking and eating together around tables. As our housemate, Rod, pointed out, it's worship involving all the senses... We touch one another when "passing the peace", we listen to one another's stories and the melodies of our songs, we smell and taste foods and drinks, and, of course, we're doing it all together, so we see one another's emotions and reactions.

Today was Remembrance Sunday, which is traditionally the (wider) Church's day to commemorate British lives lost in wars. You may have seen the red poppies around the Tower of London -- this is all part of remembering Armistice Day on 11 November.

This is our third Sunday of talking about Food and Faith together. At the first Sunday in July, we heard three stories in the Bible where food played a very important role – the Creation story, the story of David and King Nebuchadnezzar, and Jesus telling the parable about the sower. In September, we used a passage from Romans and talked with one another about how we can use and eat food to the Glory of God. This is our last Sunday in the series (unless there is popular demand for it to return), and it is also Remembrance Sunday.

It’s not without some fear and trembling that I’m up here this morning. All around the UK, churches are pulling out all the stops for Remembrance Sunday with red poppies and old hymns and “God Save the Queen” … And here I am, a pacifist by upbringing and by choice, leading worship on Remembrance Sunday.

When we were in the States, visiting friends and speaking at churches, we often heard, “You haven’t picked up the accent!” To which we normally replied, “I’m not sure which one I would have picked up…having lived and worked with people with a very wide range of accents.”

And I think this reality of being a part of a multi-cultural church (not to mention, a multi-cultural community house) gives me just the right amount of confidence to stand up here this morning, leading a Remembrance service that involves people of all accents, all ages, and all sorts of stories.

From my perspective as an outsider among outsiders, the diversity here changes the conversation, from one charged with patriotism and Queen and Country, to sharing a day of truly recalling, remembering with our senses how war and violence can leave marks for generations.

Rather than focusing on our shared and varying degrees of “British-ness”, when we talk about who we are and what defines us, I hope that we start by saying we’re trying to follow Christ. In following Christ, it doesn’t matter what country we live in, what language we speak, the tones of our skin – those things might define us outwardly, but not inwardly.

There’s a poster that we grew up with a statement coined by a Mennonite guy, saying, “Let the
Christians of the world agree to not kill one another.” The idea was to start with what seems like a basic idea: Let the Christians of the world agree to remember one another’s humanity. If we can do this, given that a third of the world is Christian, we’ve got a good start.

Inspired by this basic idea, for our Remembrance Sunday, we will remember areas in the world where there is violence and conflict today. And we will remember Christians in these areas, with whom we share a common memory: Communion. We share the meal which is done in remembrance of Jesus. In essence, we will remember the body of Christ through eating little bites together, and we are remembering the body of Christ that is our brothers and sisters around the world. It is in a moment sacrament and solidarity. We remember Christ, and we remember Christians around the world.

We then heard the following short reflections, and ate little bites of food together. Following each reflection, there was time for discussion around tables of 5-8 persons, including children.

1. We remember immigrants who are crossing borders, seeking secure futures, and who sometimes experience xenophobia and violence along the way: from the thousands who journey through Central America to the border at Mexico and the U.S., to the thousands who venture from many areas around the world into the UK. In particular, we remember the Christians who are on a journey, looking for a new start in new places.

Take these corn chips and hot chocolate, and remember the wayfarers that Jesus travels beside. Eat and drink in remembrance of immigrants.

2. We remember the children around the world who are trapped in the middle of armed conflict. We remember their innocence and their vulnerability. They did not choose to whom they would be born, which side of the wall they would grow up on, or whether there would be access to medicine they need when war has taken away the hospitals. We remember the children who will be dreamers, peace makers, artists, politicians and doctors, even when their childhood environment didn’t supply their most basic needs for safety and security.

Take these crackers and these grapes, and remember the children Jesus called to him. Eat in remembrance of them.

3. We remember Christians who are minorities in their contexts, who struggle to practice their faith. We remember the hundreds of thousands of Christians who have fled from their homes in Iraq, where in Nineveh, one priest reported in September that because of recent persecution, Christians were unable to gather and celebrate Communion together…though it’s been celebrated there continuously for the last 2000 years.


Take this khubz and these dates, and remember the Christian refugees and martyrs with whom Jesus shares a story. Eat in remembrance of them. 

Revisiting Hospitality

The following is something I wrote for part of our contribution to Akron Mennonite's (PA) Mission Festival Weekend last month.  It was preceded by a time of discussing hospitality (core components of, fears of, experiences of receiving) in small groups, of which you'll see some mention.  What I said then was just a brief stab at exploring communal Christian worship as both training and application for hospitality.

Hospitality has become a corporate word, fueling the profits of an entire industry.   Tonight, as we look at what hospitality might mean in our context, I would suggest a new approach.  The word Hospitality doesn’t need a re-inventing, but could be stripped-down and humbled; disrobed of its elite status.  And it seems to me that our Sunday morning worship services are a great place to start to look at the foundations of Christian hospitality.  Our worship and communing together can become a spiritual classroom where we continually develop our capacity for hospitality that we hope to integrate in all parts of our life.

I often lead worship at our church, and a book I’ve been reading recently has given me a bit more of a foothold on first of all, understanding my role as worship leader.  The book is called "The Art of Curating Worship" and the title gives you a good idea the basic premise the author is writing about.  Worship leaders and the teams that plan worship, if they’re doing their job, are facilitating a space for the congregation to experience the Holy Spirit…through music, liturgy, prayer, silence.  We use different mediums, because basically, you’re allowing a bunch of people who all have different experiences/expectations to engage as they feel led.  (like hosting a dinner party where all the guests had different dietary needs…and you’re cooking.)

Part of why we brought up the question of remembering times you were hosted is that, while Sunday  mornings might seem fairly inactive or mundane, all quiet and subdued, the congregation actually has a huge role during communal worship.  The role of the people showing up is to, hopefully, come expecting to meet God/Spirit – like a host would anticipate a guest showing up -- and what a worship leader/team should do is essentially invite the congregation to extend that invitation to the Spirit.  In this sense, there’s a lot of hospitality swirling during the worship service.

Then there’s the Spirit, who can be a very unnerving guest indeed…The spirit can bring refreshment and peace; healing and fulfillment; and sometimes the Spirit brings a challenge that stirs us up and makes us a bit crazy.

Worshipping as a community, I think, should be the source of inspiration for humble, grace-driven hospitality that we take out of the pews into the halls and out to the streets, in both our attitudes on hosting and being hosted.

Hospitality is not something we achieve or perfect, but something that we hope for; something that we have faith that we are practicing with our whole selves as individuals and a community.

To close, we’re going to sing a song that you know well, and that acts as an invitation to the Holy Spirit.  If we think again about the story of the Good Samaritan, putting ourselves in the shoes of the man by the road, I see this song showing us that the Holy Spirit acts as our host, taking care of us when we least expect it and when we most need it, and the song uses language that implies we’re the ones inviting the Holy Spirit to the party.   It’s also a bit confusing as to who is host and who is being hosted, but that’s the beauty of hospitality, and Spirit-based hospitality is often a beautiful mess.  Thank God, because we are beautiful messes to begin with.

image source: http://www.textweek.com/images/widetable.jpg

Holy Spirit, come with power,
breathe into our aching night.
We expect you this glad hour,
waiting for your strength and light.
We are fearful, we are ailing,
we are weak and selfish too.   

Break upon your congregation,
give us vigor, life anew. 

Heading Back - October update

We head back to the UK today after a month's visit to friends, family, and churches in the US.  We were here primarily to renew our work visas, which have come through successfully (obviously!).  It has been an amazing month, full of moments which we will cherish for a long time!

At my parents' home in Virginia, we relished being in a rural setting for two weeks, taking walks, working in the garden and woods, and enjoying a bonfire with my entire family.  We don't often get such extended experiences of solitude and silence in London, so I, for one, soaked it up!

Thoughts on a bridge.

In Pennsylvania, we had been invited to be part of Akron Mennonite Church's Mission Festival Weekend, speaking as "practitioners" of hospitality in a Post-Christendom context.  Our planning and speaking, alongside the feedback from the congregation, was very affirming, yet challenging.  Where does one start?

Justin enjoys his "butterfly" potato chips, topped with nacho "cheese" at the Applebutter Festival in WV.

We are so grateful to have had this time in the States, but we look forward to continuing our work in London.  More updates soon.

August Newsletter

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