Category: church

Monday night was the first of our series called Deepening.  The series needed a vague sort of title because it is a catch all:  a fortnightly something-or-other that will have a running theme each season, but that crosses the boundaries between bible-study, faith-development, theological reflection, and ‘taught’ topics.  This term’s theme — if one dares call it that — is God.  (images of… , experience of… , language for… , telling our story of…)

So, this week, we played around with lots of pictures, using them as a way to begin talking together and to get to know each other as a group.

During the evening, we each spoke about an image we reacted strongly to, chose an image that we would use to help show someone else our understanding of God, and played devil’s advocate questioning and opposing the analysis of the images that was first offered.

So far so good, but I was nervous about the next task.  Would it work?  Would they dare?

I asked the group to see if they could come up with an image of God for St Mary’s.  If someone walked into church for the first time on a Sunday morning and stayed for both the service and coffee, what sense of God would they get?

The goal was ‘reality’ — the image of God we actually project… though I promised we would then go onto the ‘dream’.

I thought it would be difficult.  I thought that the first images offered for negotiation would be too diverse.  Well, they were diverse; but the people who chose Christa (Christ on the cross, represented as a woman) and the children’s-bible image of Jesus (dressed in white, with a blue-bird on his hand, surrounded by half-grown animals) had no intention of pressing their point.  Very quickly one image emerged.  It’s an image that I ‘read’ very differently to the group, and personally don’t like — but I didn’t press that point, since what the rest of them saw in the image was consistent.

Image first, I think, and then some of what was said about it.  If anyone who was there wants to chime in, I’m sure I’m forgetting lots.

The group choose this as an image of welcome and embrace.  The arms were seen as God reaching out to us — and as a sign of the community’s willingness to reach out to one another.  There is welcome — but the welcome is given by one who has known pain; by those who have known pain.  The thought was that this was a hidden truth — one that only became clear as one got to know the congregation more deeply.  The dove(s) were welcomed because several of the group had spoken of their sense of God as being ‘Spirit’ and ‘not being a person’.

I was uneasy with the image, but fascinated by what people said.  But most of all (of course) I wanted to see what they chose for the dream.

At first, the group thought that the image above said all they wanted to.  We were already living the dream.  When pressed a bit, there was a clear vote for another image:  one that said many of the same things, but moved us on a bit.  This one I love:

Here we were ‘all in it together’, there were still themes of welcome and embrace, and that embrace still held the cross,  but now ‘we were going somewhere’; the image wasn’t static;  there was space for those who were afraid or unsure, and the faith that Christ was in our midst. And of course there was still a dove…

Once the dreaming had started, we kept thinking of more and more things we wanted to include:  a sense of the holy, a willingness to laugh, the joy of the dance, and the centrality of children.  You can find the pictures below the fold.

It was a good conversation and I wished I’d invited it sooner.  What the congregation says about itself is remarkably consistent — not least the initial sense of satisfaction with the church as it is.  But I find it a relief that just a tiny bit of prodding led to a tumble of dreams.  That lets me breath easy.   I would far rather we were a bit restless than overly settled in what we already do well.

Continue reading “sharing a vision” →

Today was one of those days that I think will come to characterize Dunblane in my eyes.

First, a school assembly, mercifully led by our stellar Young Church leader, and then a ‘lesson’ with P3/4 who were full of enthusiasm and excitement when they learned that they would be leading the Harvest assembly for the school and their parents.

Next, a much belated rector’s letter for the magazine, and blessings upon this month’s editor who waiting patiently for me without a hint of criticism or judgement.

By lunch time, I needed to  clear my head (after working through much of my day off yesterday), so I went to Bridge of Allan for 45 minutes, to eat and read.

Then, back to church for an Eco-Congregation assessment.  This is one of the areas of the church’s life that was ticking over nicely when I arrived, and I haven’t even begun to get involved with it yet, so I learned just as much as the assessors.  I find I get more excited about the thought of Rogation Services and bee keeping and maintaining good habitats for wild-life around the church than I do about new taps and the huge task of overhauling the heating system, but it’s good to have people keeping even the tedious bits before our eyes.

I excused myself from the meeting early because I needed to go get props for Sunday’s Harvest service — and bird seed for the wren and thrush who have appeared.  That meant my first ever trip to the local Dobbies.

I’ve been to a Dobbies in Edinburgh.  I didn’t much enjoy it.  But this was glorious.  As I wandered round in a daze, one of the school children spotted me and we had a lovely chat about scones and good places to do homework.  Then her father came over to introduce himself, and I realised that I really should get out more so that I stumble across people more readily.

I wandered outside, past all the plants to where the cat-tails danced.  Proper American-type cat-tails.  I love them.   I listen to the reeds rustling, watched the fishies, and drifted off towards the maze.

It is not the most beautiful maze ever — made of brutally cut back hedge — but it sits in the midst of wide open fields surrounded by hills, so that at every turn there is something different: sun sheltering in stubbled fields, a combine harvester, a bird of prey soaring, golden light and purple shadows chasing across the hills, the proud assertion of the Wallace Monument.   And best of all:  once you’re in, you’re stuck — two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes… who knows how long the wandering might last.

After that it was home to phone calls and desk work.  Later tonight, I’ll go to talk with the choir about Sunday and next week’s singing workshop.

A good day.  Even though there are several hours of work and an impossible list of things left to do, a good day.

By 5 pm, the sermon was in peril.  The pew sheet was done, music problems sorted and I had no excuse not to turn to the sermon, but the desire to do so was missing.

So, I convinced myself that it would be a good idea to plan the sermon by the river.

And even as I set out, I thought ‘well, a walk will do no harm, and when you admit you are lying to yourself, you can come home a write the sermon later…’

But it worked.  The river was an excellent place to plan a sermon on offering, on David’s dancing joy, and Michal’s smouldering hatred.

I stayed so long thinking, planning, praying, rehearsing that a dog walker feared for my safety and stopped to make sure I wasn’t planning to jump.  No, quite safe:  I wouldn’t want to disturb the wagtails.

So, sermon ready, I came home.  I went to lock the church and found flowers in a place that made me laugh out loud (just so unexpected — they’re doing so well with ‘not on the altar’ given the challenges of massive choir stalls blocking sight lines).  Then, at my front door I found this.

A perfect offering.