We wait for it with patience

I was doing some reading for this weeks confirmation course which was also about the Holy Spirit. I came across a paper from Cardinal Ratzinger who spoke of the Holy Spirit being love, he says the name love as given to the Holy Spirit is the key to Christian experience and at the same time interprets love concretely as “ecclesial patience.” Yes that means us as a church being patient.

I was fascinated by this ecclesial patience because it made a lot of sense. The disciples had waited for the promise of the resurrection, they waited for the promise of the Holy Spirit, and through their journey listened and waited for where the Spirit led them.

If we go through the bible and have a look at how many times God’s people wait I know there are plenty of examples. One at the very beginning of our redemption where Mary says yes to the spirit falling upon her and making her the Mother of God. The patience she showed in the invisible breath of promise felt in the movement of babe in her womb.

The other reading set for today from Romans speaks also of this holy patience which we are called to. This invisible clutching to the invisible, which is given form by the knowledge of hope. The hope that the church is founded on, which moves within us is Jesus Christ our Lord.

This invisible patience, hope, is what we are told to have in our hearts, and when we do not know how to articulate it, when we do not know how to pray in confidence, the Spirit does so on our behalf, all we have to do is be present and be able to open our hearts.

What we also learn from the Gospel is that the Holy Spirit is a gift that brings us into the union of the Father and the Son, Jesus says, “For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” this invisible love, the gift of love that sets fire to the world that groans in wanting for the love of God and His longing for us to be in that love too, His love given to Him.

This equipping love fills us what we need to follow Our Lord Jesus Christ, we can be confident that He is there always, we can call out in prayer, and when we do not have the words just be, just sit and want, He meets you all today and we can pray for a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit to come upon us and guide us, and help us to feel that love. In the confirmation course I say that we are embarking on an investigation of love because everything we do, to learn, to pray, brings us closer to Jesus and he gives us much more than we give Him, just wait in Him and be patient.

I thought this Holy patience was such a relevant learning to share today as we say goodbye to Kathreen as she proceeds on her journey towards ordination and beyond. I remember her saying that she didn’t know what to do in this time between finishing with us and starting her curacy. I believe that the answer is to wait in the promise that God has called you to, for the outpouring of the spirit that we celebrate today.

Jesus says, When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.

Faithful Lord give us the courage to wait in your promise and hope, lead your servant Kathreen to the hope you have set within our hearts, and lead your church in patient love.

Amen.

Mary be a mother to me now

Father, may these spoken words be faithful to the written word and lead us to the living word, Jesus Christ our Lord.

It is such a blessing that we are able to be together physically as the church reopens its doors today. Part of Mothering Sunday tradition actually involves people going back to their mother church, the place where they were baptised. And here we are today stepping back into that old tradition sharing in the mothering embrace of this church family.

There are many bible readings set today to choose from. The two Old Testament readings show us the act of giving away of part of ourselves, Moses being put in the basket, Hannah giving her son to the Lord, and in the Gospel Jesus giving His Mother to the disciple whom he loved.

I wanted us to think about these images today. That the church is showing us that part of loving others involves giving a part of ourselves away.

Jesus mother Mary is often described as the church, who held Jesus within her womb, and offered him up for the mission that was entrusted to him. I always like to remember that Mary had the courage and strength to not take her baby and run and hide with him somewhere, after hearing all the prophecies about the suffering she will feel, she kept on mothering him faithfully.

The church is the place where we offer ourselves to the Lord, it is a place that holds us and helps us to step forward and keep walking forward in our discipleship. As Jesus gave his mother to the disciple John, she is given to us also, a mother when we most need a mother, when perhaps we have not had one, where we miss the presence of a mother, through grief, through estrangement, through other difficulties that life has presented.

My most powerful prayer in these times is one from St Teresa of Calcutta, Mary, Mother of Jesus, be Mother to me now, I recommend this simple prayer in times of challenge, that tucks us up in a blanket of hope.

Talking about blankets makes me think of wings.

One of my favourite images of the mothering love of the church and Jesus is not in the lectionary today but it is in the gospel of Matthew. Jesus speaks of his longing to gather up his people like A hen gathering its brood under its wings. Imagine each and every one of you being snuggled up under the warm and protecting mothering love of God. And that He longs to gather you all up, he desires us and calls so much to feel that love.

If you look under your chair there will be a little chick.

When you come up for communion or a blessing I would like you to bring all your feelings about this Mothering Sunday with you. Good, bad, sad, confused, upset, anger, disappointment, fear, hurt, I want you to bring it all up and place the chick into the nest with this cuddly hen.

Because I want you all to remember that there is always a place for every one of you and every thought and feeling you have on this day. Remember that the Father loves you, the Holy Spirit loves you, and Jesus loves you with a mothering love learnt from his own mother, who longs to tuck us in like His own mother did, from His birth in the swaddling clothes, to the cloths that his crucified body is wrapped in in the tomb.

Lord helps us to remember your love today, Mary, Mother of Jesus, be a Mother to us now.

Amen

Dripping from the honeycomb

I adore the psalms. They form the foundation of my prayer life. I enjoy seeing the regular words of each as I cycle through the weeks. Week 4 in my breviary is a particular favourite week of mine.

When I saw the words in the lectionary this morning of psalm 19 the image of dripping honey caught my attention.

There is something moreish and satisfying about seeing something sweet drip, like golden syrup when you make brownies, or honey on your cereal. You just want to stick your finger under it, put it your mouth, and taste it. (Or this could be just me!)

I feel that the psalms are like this, they drip words about God that make us want to come back again and again. Even when the words are challenging, they glisten and we want to be fed more and more.

Another of my favourite lines in the psalms is “O taste and see that the Lord is good” – another image of the dripping honeycomb, and the scrolls that taste sweet in the mouth.

The word and promise of the Lord is sweet and good, it is moreish and irresistible, it glistens in the sun, it drips and moves slowly, calling us to have patience as we receive it – let it move across the tongue awakening the tastebuds and the spreading of joy around the body.

This is the sweetness of lent. In the stripped back nature of this season, and if you like I have given up sweet foods, remember to feed on His word and promise, dripping from the honeycomb, O taste and see that the Lord is good.

Set my bow in the clouds

I have been reminded this week of the promise of love and how powerful that is. I have spoken the words “you are my son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased” so many times this week. In my sermon today, in the lovely care home service through the week. I feel it is something that we all need to hear.

One of the best pieces of advice I gained from theological college was that we might hear something and take it into our mind, but it is a long journey for it to get to the heart.

I’ve realised how true this can be. How hard it can be sometimes to just sit in love and realise that it is for us.

The reading for today’s Eucharist are beautifully linked by the power of water and God’s love. It reminded me of one night where I saw a rainbow around the moon, a moonbow so to say. A brilliant multicoloured halo of light shining brightly like nothing I had seen before.

This made me think that if we treated each proclamation of love as something we had never seen before, perhaps we would realise how special and beautiful it is – and that our hearts would start to listen!

I often wonder if there was a rainbow seen in the spray of water that came off Jesus when He was Baptised. And that same possibility which happened to us on our Baptism, a new life in Jesus sealed by the bow of promise, of love wrapped around us.

Whatever we think, it is a good day to think about that promise of love set over us, you are my son, my daughter, with you I am well pleased.

Follow me

During the last spell of cold weather I noticed an appearance of our resident female pheasant group. They always seem to come out just before the cold weather. When I used to live in Rochdale a sighting of the deer next to my house was always a warning of a cold snap to come.

On this particular morning I looked outside of my bedroom window and there before my eyes were the female pheasants on top of one of my neighbour’s roof. I was astonished about how they got up there I didn’t know they could flap up to such a high place.

Anyway, they were up there and the leader of the group felt it was time to leave the roof and go. She looked around and with an almighty flap she went down. One and by one the others followed her until there was one left.

She looked worried about what the others had just done, yet she could see the rest of the group safe and well and getting ready to move on. I watched her for a while, moving backwards and forwards, looking at the distance, measuring it up, then just as I thought she might not do it, she flapped and landed gracefully on the grass.

Watching the birds made me think of the sudden words of Jesus saying “follow me” to his disciples. We hear of them literally dropping the nets in their hands and walking away, and standing up and leaving the tax collector’s booth, leaving everything behind.

Sometimes we are like the last pheasant, weighing up the risks, whether it is safe, what could happen etc. Yet here in this short sentence “follow me” are the words of life, words that changed the disciples lives and our lives too when we decide to follow.

Perhaps this lent is a chance to remember our promise to follow Jesus, to put down the fear of what may make us hesitate to go, to address the fears within us that keep us at arms length, and to remember we are never too far gone to hear the words “follow me.”

He will say, here I am

Over the past few days I’ve been reminded that it is actually ok to know that God loves me. My Spiritual Director who I adore reminded me of this fact this week. I realised how easy it is to slip into thoughts which tell us that we cannot possibly loved.

In the second lockdown I had this wild idea to put a pond in the garden. I had never done such a thing before but somehow knew that I could do it. So I bought a liner, and set to digging a hole. Anyway in that afternoon the pond was put in – it is only a small thing.

I realised that if I had the confidence to dig up my lawn, to make this hard to disguise hole, why on earth did I not allow myself to dig deep within myself daily and fill inside of me with God’s love?

I had got stuck in a trap thinking that I had to do so many things to make sure that God would love me. If worked more and more, if I continued to take on the lockdowns with a smile, if I didn’t complain…. etc etc

However, to just stop, and call out to Him, to ask for help to see clearly His love, and there just waiting, in the stillness and silence there He was – “Here I am.”

Today, just stop and remind yourself of the most simple truth, that God loves you and that is that. Suddenly all is possible – even putting in a pond.

Choose life

When I moved into my new house the garden needed a little attention. It had overgrown and there seemed to be a forest of weeds at the back.

During the second lockdown I decided to spend an hour a day trying to clear some of them. I remembered that when I put in my statue of Our Blessed Mother Mary she has gestured something about the ground in my prayers.

So I got to it. A combined effort of hacking down the wilderness and digging. There were brambles entwined in bushes and long weeds up to my thighs but slowly and surely I began to see the earth and the edge of my lawn.

I had a wonderful surprise as I walked the garden and found new shoots of flowers that I had not planted all in the places that I had cleared. Secret flowers that I would not have seen. They are so beautiful and freshly green, reflecting a newness of life, so radiant and joyful.

I do not know what flowers they will grow into but I was so glad that I chose to clear the ground, to choose to see what life was beneath.

Moving into lent remind us to choose a life with God, to choose to see His gifts of newness He gives us, and we choose to love everyday. Many things tempt us to respond in bitter ways, to show we are angry, to show we are aggrieved, but if we choose to love, we choose to live a life in its fullness, a life of abundance with God.

His love is like the secret flowers of our hearts, part of the garden of the kingdom that is to come, new shoots of hope and the promise of the fragrance of His presence.

Let us choose life with Him everyday, and choose to love in every way.

Choose life

When I moved into my new house the garden needed a little attention. It has overgrown and there seemed to be a forest of weeds at the back.

During the second lockdown I decided to spend an hour a day trying to clear some of them. I remembered that when I put in my statue of Our Blessed Mother Mary she has gestured something about the ground in my prayers.

So I got to it. A combined effort of hacking down the wilderness and digging. There were brambles entwined in bushes and long weeds up to my thighs but slowly and surely I began to see the earth and the edge of my lawn.

I had a wonderful surprise as I walked the garden and found new shoots of flowers that I had not planted all in the places that I had cleared. Secret flowers that I would not have seen. They are so beautiful and freshly green, reflecting a newness of life, so radiant and joyful.

I do not know what flowers they will grow into but I was so glad that I chose to clear the ground, to choose to see what life was beneath.

Moving into lent remind us to choose a life with God, to choose to see His gifts of newness He gives us, and we choose to love everyday. Many things tempt us to respond in bitter ways, to show we are angry, to show we are aggrieved, but if we choose to love, we choose to live a life in its fullness, a life of abundance with God.

His love is like the secret flowers of our hearts, part of the garden of the kingdom that is to come, new shoots of hope and the promise of the fragrance of His presence.

Let us choose life with Him everyday, and choose to love in every way.

Return to me with all your heart

I go walking with my children at around 4pm every day. This way we can watch the sun start to set and see the landscape start to move under the changing light.

Yesterday it was hazy but the sky did it’s usual dance. We found a new bit of stream to discover and on our way back up from a particularly fun stream-bank jumping session, my youngest daughter spotted a bird swooping over the grass.

We are big nature fans and soon she announced that it was in fact a barn owl. She was correct and there it was with its creamy wide soft wings swooping up and down through the long grass.

It was such a beautiful thing to watch. Especially on the eve of the season of Lent that we step into today.

I’ve always seen Ash Wednesday as the start of an unknown journey where have to turn to the Lord, to know where we are going. The cross on the forehead, or the sprinkling of ashes is the road map for the heart, the direction of where we are now heading. But what we encounter on that journey is for God to will for us.

Like the barn owl that we were blessed to see yesterday, we will be amazed at what He can show us over these Lenten days as long as we can open our hearts up to receive. The hollowing out of our hearts through self denial makes room for His love to dwell.

I pray that the Holy Spirit may swoop in like the barn owl and fill us with the Father’s will for us, that we can imitate the journey that Jesus took for us and by doing so know Him deeper and fuller.

Pierced and stretched out hearts

I have been a little bit in love with classical string music over this lockdown. There is something about the way the violin sounds cut through all the background accompaniment. The wail of lament and joy in the busy composition. My fascination with the sound has stuck with me through this week and especially as I read in the Gospel today the words which Simeon says that cut through the joy of Jesus’ presentation in the temple to Mary, he says “and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Somehow these words speak so much truth into the way we are feeling right now. The vaccines have brought a glimmer of hope to an end to the atrocities this pandemic has brought yet the deaths, the despair, the loneliness, fear, isolation, are the swords that piece our hearts and souls every day.

I look to the violin for hope to deal with this, Rowan Williams in one of his most excellent books, the wound of knowledge speaks of the flesh that is stretched out to make the strings on violins. He speaks of the way musical instruments like the tabret and harp were used in the Psalms to sing praises to the Lord. An echo to the stretched out flesh of Our Lord on the cross where heaven sand out and rejoiced in the offering of His life for our redemption.

In this stretching out, we as His disciples share in this pain, sometimes we feel that we cannot take anymore, we cannot cope with more bad news, with more restrictions, we are pulled and pulled. But somewhere in all of this we suddenly see the light of Jesus breaking through the darkness and our heart strings are plucked, and like the violin, and we start to sing a new song in a seemingly hopeless place. As we stretch ourselves out in so many ways, Christ touches us, and the sweetness of his love sings.

Candlemas is a beautiful time where we end the season of Epiphany with the words of Simeon proclaiming God’s salvation to all

Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,

   according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation,

which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles

   and for glory to your people Israel.’

It is a time for us to draw in afresh to the promises of Christ, to dwell in the mantle of our Mother Mary, to remember that both know and share in our pain and suffering.

I encourage you all this evening to light a candle and sit in its light and allow Jesus to come and reach into your stretched out hearts, let the new song of his love sing out like the sounds of the violin.

May the peace and joy of Our Lord be with you all,

and may His mother pray for us.

Amen