Reflections from the belly
The strong ones, the pillars, the rocks: you know who they are. They’re the people who stand firm through everything, and on whom so many depend. They hold families, churches, neighbourhoods and workplaces together; they manage their emotions for the sake of others; they support the ones who are struggling; they raise resilient kids. Continue reading “Prayer for the strong”
When the church operates from a position of power and wealth, it has no authority. (Listen to a much earlier version here.)
I have a confession to make. As I prepared to travel to Canberra and preach on this story, that is, a story where disciples are sent out carrying no bag and no change of clothing, I panicked. I hadn’t been to this city before, let alone this church; and I suddenly realised two things. One, my usual op shop clothes probably wouldn’t cut it; and, two, my only good pair of pants had moved to Melbourne earlier this year with my oldest daughter. So I ran out and bought myself a new pair of pants, and shoved them into my already overflowing bag. Continue reading “Mark | No authority but Christ”
Bleeding bodies and suffering selves are all gathered up in Christ. (Listen.)
Like me, my mother was an ordained Baptist minister; but unlike me, she had endometriosis. Among other things, this meant that her menstrual periods were excruciatingly painful, and came upon her without warning, in great floods. And so my childhood is studded with high stress memories of her period suddenly starting while we were out. There’d be an intake of breath, then a quick hissed exchange between my parents, then a frantic search for a public toilet before disaster struck. Continue reading “Mark | Menstruation, miscarriage, and the multitude robed in white”
Grounded God,
you emptied yourself,
taking the form of a slave
and humbling yourself even unto death.
Empty us of our pride,
strip us of our self-importance,
and recall us to our limits.
Reconcile our circles of concern
with our circles of influence,
that we may stop loudly panicking
and start quietly working
towards your new creation
of reconciliation, justice and peace.
For we cannot solve everything:
but you resolve all things;
and it is not in grand gestures
but in humble service
that you are made known.
In the name of Christ, we pray:
Amen.
Love one another: It lies at the heart of who we are and what we do as a church. And we are called not just to love those like us, but to love across human boundaries: male and female; gay and straight; rich and poor; adult and child. What this means, however, is that we are loving across power imbalances: and so we near to be clear about love.
To those reeling from another week in the patriarchy, the cross offers only foolishness: but in that foolishness we find healing and companionship. (Listen.)
Like so many people, I feel overwhelmed by the events of the last few weeks. Parliament House is revealed to be a hotbed of sexual violence; and our Prime Minister cannot imagine it matters until, we are told, his wife prompts him to think of his own daughters. Then the attorney general is named in allegations of historic rape. Meanwhile, the head of the defence force instructs young cadets that they should not make themselves ‘prey’ to predators, and that they can do this by, among other things, avoiding being ‘attractive.’ All this while our training grounds for power, that is, Sydney’s private schools, are publicly revealed as manifestly unsafe places for young women.
Continue reading “Corinthians | Human violence, and the foolishness of the cross”
We like to make things complicated, but the faith which heals is simple. A word for our graduates moving away to university. (Listen.)
Naaman was hoping for a miracle. ‘Easy peasy lemon squeezy,’ said the prophet’s errand boy. ‘Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and you’ll be made clean.’ Then he ran back inside, narrowly avoiding a boot in the behind.
When does the church grow? Looking back on our life together, I am struck by the growth which has happened each time someone has made themselves vulnerable. Perhaps someone wrote a Wednesday email or a Lenten reflection which was wholehearted and brave: and when you read it, you felt the spirit stirring within you. Perhaps someone spoke during a service, asking a question, naming a difficulty, giving a testimony or requesting prayer: and, when you heard them, you sensed the spirit’s rich honeyed presence. Perhaps someone emailed the list asking for help: and when you turned up ready to move a house, or hand over soup, or take a kid to soccer, or pray, you stepped into the presence of love.
Some days I feel utterly overwhelmed by what I don’t know. I don’t know how to plant a church. I don’t know how to run a Bible study. I don’t know how to include children in worship, and I don’t know how to disciple teenagers. I don’t know how to grow a congregation, or increase attendance, or begin a service while people are chatting or slowly drifting in the door. I don’t know how to free us all from cultural captivity. I don’t know how to truly serve the LGBTIQA+ community or other marginalised groups, or how to galvanize other Christians around climate change. I don’t know how to develop a five-year-plan nor write a sermon, and every week I walk the cliff edge of terror as I try to work the latter out. And as for truly loving and forgiving people: well, the older I get, the less sure I am of this as I become more aware of my frailty, sinfulness and hardness of heart. Continue reading “Leading out of weakness and not-knowing”
I don’t know if it’s the season: perhaps it’s what happens after months of grey lowering skies. But so many of us are struggling right now: struggling with marriage, struggling with depression, struggling with our children, struggling at work. The temptation is to gloss over all these struggles and pretend things are okay; or to back away from church and each other and hide our mess. But the struggle continues: only now we’re struggling alone. Continue reading “2 Corinthians | The gift of brokenness”
Alison and the whale 