Grace - Fresh Vital Worship - fresh vital worship

Signs of the Spirit - Grace 10th May

Tue, 06 May 2008 22:02:07 +0100

what does the Spirit do?
what difference does he make?
how do we experience the Spirit?

8pm, St. Mary's Church, Ealing.

small chill - grace weekend away 20th to 22nd June

Sat, 03 May 2008 16:51:20 +0100

What?

Small Chill is this year’s Grace weekend away – a chance to get to know Grace better and chill out

When?

Friday 20 June-Sunday 22 June

Where?

Studland in Dorset – we have booked the event field at Burnbake Campsite (http://www.btinternet.com/~burnbakecampsite/) between Corfe Castle and Studland Village.
There are local B&Bs for non-campers.

How?

Driving from Ealing usually takes two to three hours either driving through Bournemouth and taking the Sandbanks ferry or taking the longer route via Wareham.

Trains run from Waterloo to Wareham every 30 minutes on Fridays and hourly on Sundays back to Waterloo. We can arrange to meet people at Wareham station – 15 minutes drive from Burnbake.

What is there to do?

Chill out ….
Studland beach is a short cycle ride or drive away – a stunning three mile stretch of sand with safe swimming and plenty of space for football, boules, frisbee ….
Corfe Castle and the Steam Railway to Swanage.
Cliff walk to Swanage, with views of Old Harry’s Rocks and the Isle of Wight.
Swanage – a classic seaside town complete with Punch and Judy.
Further afield are Durdle Door and Brownsea Island.

How much will it cost?

£20 per adult for the weekend, including food and limited drink for a BBQ on Saturday night. (This is based on 15 adults joining us for the weekend).
There is no charge for children under 16 except a contribution towards food costs.

If you would like more info contact Richard or Sue through grace.london@btinternet.com. If you are interested in coming a £5 deposit will secure your place. If cost or transport is a concern please come and have a chat.

he is risen

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 18:44:31 +0000

To celebrate Easter, some of us met for communion and breakfast this morning. As part of the service, we created the following liturgy together;

resurrection turns brokenness into healing and wholeness
resurrection turns war into peace
resurrection turns illness into health
resurrection turns random into meaningful
resurrection turns injustice and suffering into justice and joy
resurrection turns rejection into acceptance
resurrection turns hate and fear into love
resurrection turns incompleteness into completeness.

we have faith to believe resurrection will happen where people live on refuse heaps
we have faith to believe resurrection will happen in prisons
we have faith to believe resurrection will happen in Iraq
we have faith to believe resurrection will happen in our city
we have faith to believe resurrection will happen in Equador
we have faith to believe resurrection will happen in sink estates.

when jesus comes again people will no longer feel the need to hurt each other
when jesus comes again we won't be constrained by hips and gall stones and colitis and cancer and AIDS
when jesus comes again people will treat each other like god is in everyone
when jesus comes again we will all be alert in the morning
when jesus comes again people will know themselves as they really are, not depressed, but able to change
when jesus comes again people will look up and know god.

'Holy Saturday!'

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 11:08:08 +0000

According to Radio 4 (and they should know) Good Friday is the most holy day on the Christian church’s calendar.

That got me thinking: what makes any day holy has a lot to do with how much I invest in that day. I know sometimes the sly Spirit of God can take me by surprise when following routine sacraments, but these can just as easily be empty routines as much as close encounters with my Father in heaven.

When I was a teenager – a new Christian – holy week was a busy one for me: Wednesday evening bible study; Maundy Thursday communion; Good Friday morning communion and meditation; Sunday services; and, last but not least, the Easter Monday ramble. I was seen to be investing my time into the right activities and got a lot ‘glory points’ from my peers.

30 years on I spend less hours of the week in church, take communion less often and am seen observing sacraments by fewer of my fellow Christians. That said, I think I invested more of myself when praying while walking the dog on Friday morning than I did throwing back a glass of alcohol free wine at the age of 15.

If I take time out, on any day, in any place, to invest a portion of myself in communing with God, then I think the holiness of that moment, of that place, will suffice for me. Similarly, Holy Communion with friends round a dining room table is of equal value to me than any priest-led sacrament. This is probably due to its immediacy and intimacy.

Don’t get me wrong, organised church worship is precious to me – but it isn’t always there when I need it. Take Holy Saturday for example – this day when Christ’s disciples were in hiding, bemused by the events of the last few days. I can relate to those emotions and investing in a communion with God is as important for me today as it was yesterday or tomorrow.

Perhaps you’d like to join me and light your own metaphorical (or actual) Paschal candle – an expectant vigil in readiness for the celebration of Easter Sunday, stating by faith:

“Christ is risen from the dead;
trampling down death by death;
and upon those in tombs; bestowing life.”

“May the light of Christ, rising in glory,
banish all darkness from our hearts and minds.
The lit candle is now a symbol of Christ,
risen as the light of the world, and come into the midst of the people.”

You can do this when walking the dog, when comforting your child, when washing up. It could be the most holy moment of the weekend.

And you held me

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:04:32 +0000

We first visited Shooting Star Children’s Hospice on Good Friday last year, just after our baby daughter, Lydia, had been diagnosed with a life-limiting condition. Since then, we have stayed on a regular basis for respite care and, one day in the not too distant future, it may be the place where she dies, or at least where we will take her body in between her death and the funeral.

The hospice is an incredible place where the beauty of life and the reality of death exist side by side. Going there always feels both life-giving and daunting, as we watch and wait with our girl, not knowing how many days or weeks or months we may have left with her.

At the hospice, the miracle of life feels tangible. It’s a light and airy building, the colours seem brighter and the joy deeper. Perhaps it’s unsurprising that the preciousness of life is more striking in a context where its fragility is all too real. I am tossed around within this mystery every time I walk down the main corridor. Along this corridor you can find the main rooms of fun: the multi-sensory room with its lights and bubbles and ball pool, the arts and crafts room with all things creative, and the warm-as-a-bath hydrotherapy pool. In the midst of all this is the entrance to the ‘Tranquil Suite’ where families can stay with their children after they’ve died. Every time I walk past this door I wonder how long it will be before we’ll be going in there, how it will feel, what she will look like.

Some days I struggle to walk past this door, I want to go in and wreak havoc in a space which is meant to be tranquil, where the flowers are neatly tended, the cushions nicely plumped and the fine china cups and saucers await to comfort the next grief-stricken family. And I know I am not ready for what is to come.

On other days, I am glad to walk past this door, glad because it reminds me of the preciousness of today, because it puts things into perspective, draws me to slow down, to breathe more deeply, to marvel at living in the middle of this confusing dance between life and death.

So the door feels like a gift, a quiet but vital reminder of the reality of death in the midst of life, there to provoke the whole gamut of emotion which accompanies the journey of grief and from which we run at our peril.

A year on, another Good Friday, and we’re invited to sit again with Mary as she watches and waits through the torment of Jesus’ death and she’s left cradling her dead son in her arms. How did this embrace feels? And who was holding who? Often, when holding Lydia, I have a sense that while it’s me that physically holds her floppy and fitting body, it is really she who holds me, who is the strong one, who is walking on this journey with all the trust and faith which I lack, who wraps me in love and assures me that all will be well, and I aspire to be more like her. I wonder if it will still feel like that one day holding Lydia’s body in the tranquil suite? Today, as we take Jesus’ body down from the cross, and cradle him in our arms, I wonder if we might allow him to hold us, to comfort us, to be for us whatever we need him to be, even just for a moment, to be held....

And you held me – by Janet Morley

and you held me and there were no words
and there was no time and you held me
and there was only wanting and
being held and being filled with wanting
and I was nothing but letting go
and being held
and there were no words and there
needed to be no words
and there was no terror only stillness
and I was wanting nothing and
it was fullness and it was like aching for God
and it was touch and warmth and
darkness and no time and no words and we flowed
and I flowed and I was not empty
and I was given up to the dark and
in the darkness I was not lost
and the wanting was like fullness and I could
hardly hold it and I was held and
you were dark and warm and without time and
without words and you held me

Easter Breakfast

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 08:14:32 +0000

To celebrate Easter morning, we will be sharing breakfast and communion together at 8am on Sunday. You are very welcome to join us; send us an email at the usual address and we'll send you details.

The transformation of solitude

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 22:34:33 +0000

(photo: Jonny Baker)

I have led a Lent course over the last few weeks on desert spirituality. It meant that my Lent has been incredibly busy with preparation on top of work; I've felt like a complete hypocrite standing in front of people and encouraging them to embrace solitude and silence when I have had so little myself.

Solitude is a choice to withdraw from the world to spend time with God. It’s about getting rid of all distractions and all the things that make us feel comfortable and secure. It’s more than finding privacy or personal space, or having rest and relaxation. Solitude is being honest and open with God about who we are, and whose we are - it’s the place where we discover who God really is. It’s the place where we have to admit to our own sin and brokenness. It's the place where we are transformed.

There was a brother in a monastery who had a rather turbulent temperament; he often became angry. So he said to himself, ‘I will go and live in my own. If I have nothing to do with anyone else, I shall live in peace and my passions shall be soothed.’ Off he went to live in solitude in a cave. One day when he had filled his jug with water he put it on the ground and it tipped over. So he picked it up and filled it again – and again it tipped over. He filled it a third time, put it down and over it went again. He was furious; he grabbed the jug and smashed it. Then he came to his senses and realised that he had been tricked by the devil. He said, ‘since I have been defeated, even in solitude, I’d better go back to the monastery. Conflict is to be met everywhere, but so is patience and so is the help of God. So he got up and went back to where he came from.

That monk discovered in solitude that his bad temper was not caused by other people who were being unreasonable – it was deep within him. So solitude is the place where we face our own brokenness, but it’s also the place where we dwell in the gentle healing presence of Jesus and where we are transformed to be like him. As well as being aware of our brokenness, we become more aware of the nature of God and of his transforming power.

Grace April 12 2008 - Resurrections

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 08:45:22 +0000

Giving Birth

Wed, 19 Mar 2008 06:39:11 +0000

I am sure that comparing an individual's transformation to giving birth to a child is not original, but it's a useful metaphor for me, nonetheless. I imagine that most of us go through numerous transformations during our lives (multiple births or re-births!) It has been my experience that the conception, the initial planting of the seed that leads to new life, is thrilling, joyful, and well, yes, sexy. Bringing that new life, fully formed, out into the light for all to see is generally very hard work, painful, and is preceded by a period of utter darkness. (Why is it that babies tend to be born in the wee hours of the morning??)

Which brings me to the help-mates, those who stand by us, and coach us through the darkness. Like the obstetrician or mid-wife during a physical pregnancy, those who guide us on our spiritual journeys seem larger than life during the gestation period...I have been known to develop a great attachment for those who have helped me through spiritual growth spurts much as many women "fall in love" with their doctors during a pregnancy. (I know, there's a psychological term for that!) Of course, I don't stop caring for those help-mates, once a transformation has occurred, but the intensity of our relationship is never quite the same.

Though I tend to favor growing through my relationships with others (finding the Christ in others, if you will), my ultimate help-mate is God. Presenting myself before God is the surest and straightest path to new life. This is helpful to remember, especially, when those we love disappoint us, or are not accessible. In the end, it is God in us, working in us...silently, softly, unobtrusively, and then, when we think we can go no further, bringing us out into light we could never begin to imagine within our own small dark minds.

May you have many opportunities to be transformed by God this Holy Week...and through all the years and Easters to come.

a tale of two cinderellas

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 22:24:31 +0000

the in-flight movie on the way back from moscow was 'enchanted', in which a disney fairytale princess finds herself transformed by the wicked queen into a real human being in new york "where there are no happy endings". she is desperate to go back to her cartoon world to marry her prince, but when he turns up in the real world to rescue her she finds that she prefers what she has become [and the lawyer who helped her] to the fairytale. which put me in mind of another in-flight movie, 'the devil wears prada', where the heroine's life is transformed by the wicked editor-queen in a way that most would desire - "everyone wants what we have," says the editor as they step out of a limousine in paris. at which point our cinderella flees, leaving only a mobile phone behind, and returns to her dowdy old life.

two fairytale transformations, then, one accepted even though apparently 'down', one rejected even though apparently 'up'. life changes us, and god changes us. sometimes we seek it, sometimes it's against our will. do we accept or reject what we are becoming, and on what grounds? how much choice do we have? i believe we have an inner compass from god, which tells us where the true path is, where our true self in god is, even when we are dragged away from what we thought were our hopes and dreams, even when we are dragged away by god. but it's hard to tell maturity from damage, sometimes. i have to keep giving myself back to god, have to trust and say to god "who do you think i am?"

and now i have to post this by midnight, or turn into a pumpkin :)

Transformation Ecosystem

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 08:19:03 +0000

Yesterday I splashed out and bought a macro lens for my DSLR. For some time now, I’ve wanted to explore the world of the macro.

The internal world of flowers has always fascinated me. The tiny buds, which in themselves hold more intricacies, protected from the harmful world. Protected, until the flower is ready to burst forth and advertise itself to the world.

The pollen, the stamen, and the reliance on insects is a perfect example of the interconnectedness of God’s creation. Without the seed there is no life, but without the bee there is no seed.

With Easter being early this year there are less signs of “new life” springing up than we are used to, less new shoots leaping from the ground, less animal life forcing its newness into our faces.

I find myself longing to see the first bees and insects buzzing around the flowers in our garden. To see the cycle beginning again. The freshness, after the staleness of winter.

This year, with Easter just around the corner, which are you?

Are you the bud, longing to open?
Are you the flower, advertising the life?
Are you the pollen, awaiting collection?
Are you the stamen, expecting delivery?
Are you the seed, starting the cycle?
Or, are you the bee, linking all things?

For you have been born again, not of perishable seed, but of imperishable, through the living and enduring word of God. For, "All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever. (1 Peter 1: 23 -25)
Which ever you are, wherever you are in your journey:

May the Lord bless you, may his light shine upon you, may your spirit be transformed through the new beginning that comes from Christ’s sacrifice.

Is it just God @ work?

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 18:38:02 +0000

The Christian walk is a funny old thing. Some days you bumble along and others you couldn't be closer to God if you tried and no matter where you are at, you are still on your walk. Matt and I have been challenged over the past few years of our married life and we have only been married for 4 and a half years so that would be most of it. The other day I was reading some daily devotion and I came across this...

Submit to the Potter's hands
(Isaiah 64:8 Yet O Lord, You are our Father; we are the clay, and You our Potter, and we are the work of Your hand)

A couple went in to an antique shop one day and found a beautiful teacup sitting on a shelf. They took it off the shelf so they could look at it more closely, and they said, "We really want to buy this gorgeous cup"

All of a sudden the teacup began to talk, saying, 'I wasn't always like this. There was a time when I was just a cold, hard, colourless lump of clay. One day my master picked me up and said, "I could do something with this." Then he started to pat me and roll me and change my shape. I said "What are you doing? That hurts. I don't know if I want to look like this. Stop!" But he said, "Not yet."

'Then he put me on a wheel and began to spin me around and around and around until I screamed "Let me off, I am getting dizzy!" "Not yet " he said. Then he shaped me in to a cup and put me in a hot oven. I cried, "Let me out! It's hot in here, I am suffocating". But he just looked at me through that little glass window and smiled and said "Not yet."

'When he took me out, I thought his work on me was over, but then he started to paint me. I couldn't believe what he did next. He put me back into the oven and I said "You have to believe me, I can't stand this! Please let me out!" But he said "Not yet."

Finally he took me out of the oven and set me on the shelf where I thought he had forgotten me. Then one day he took me off the shelf and held me before a mirror. I couldn't believe my eyes, I had become a beautiful teacup that everyone wants to buy.'

- this story encouraged me, it reminded me that I am not quite ready yet for God's purpose and glory but one day I will be. So take heart if you feel like life is hardwork and painful, just ask yourself, is it just God @ work?

Zoe Stevenson

A Brief Encounter

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 01:13:58 +0000

Last Sunday I went to a party of a former colleague and good friend. Years ago, we had both worked for a demanding American company. As I went to say hello to the host, I realised he was chatting to our old boss, I’ll call him Jim. I hadn’t seen Jim in 15 years. He smiled openly at me and gave me a kiss, “ hi great to see you”. I smiled almost involuntarily and muttered something vaguely friendly, and bolted to the other side of the room, as difficult memories came flooding back. I avoided him for the rest of the party.

For a couple of years I had given my wholehearted commitment to that company, achieved things I never achieved anywhere else, stretched myself to the absolute limit. I so wanted it all to work and to be a success. The demands were beyond anything I have ever known. In the end the stress got to me, I got quite seriously ill for more than a month. Jim decided I wasn’t the right stuff, and he generally preferred healthy sporty male specimens in his team, so once the project was over, I was surplus to requirements, as far as he was concerned. I later realised that this was very typical of the way the company treated people. It was an exciting but unhealthy environment. Most of my colleagues eventually found themselves in the same position – many suffered. Even Jim himself eventually went the same way.

For me then, it was a devastating but ultimately a transforming moment in my life.

I experienced self doubt, anger, and a collapse in confidence and motivation. What was the point of anything? Why work? It probably took me about 2 years to recover and reorient myself which isn’t unusual when I see others in the same situation. It changed the course of my life. It forced me to question as never before my path in life, what I should be doing, my priorities, my real abilities. It’s partly true that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I learned so much. I did find new directions and purposes. I can thank God now for yanking me out of there in time and setting me free. Whatever pain there was in moving on, it was ultimately for the best. But it took me years to recognise it.

Jesus was transformed by his desert experience – in confronting isolation, temptation and deprivation, he was able to take hold of who he was, and what he needed to do. And he could forgive those who hurt him and let him down.

One day perhaps if I ever meet Jim again, I might be able to share a chat and a memory. One day, with God’s help, there will be forgiveness. Transformation can happen in an moment or it can be a long long process.

In the days before Alpha...

Fri, 14 Mar 2008 00:36:21 +0000

As you may know, I have been making audio meditations as part of my living.

Here is a meditation based around a very famous transformation. It's about eight minutes long, but the last couple of minutes are more general prayers.

Enjoy, and am interested to know what you made of the format, please do let me know.

http://www.mailbigfile.com/451d33ecd276145c36b7e0e0950c2ce5/listFiles.php

slow-burn

Wed, 12 Mar 2008 08:55:13 +0000

There is an advertisement on the Tube at the moment which announces, "You're half an hour from a more confident you". It's for a cosmetic surgery company. What are they able to do in half an hour? Perhaps that is long enough to convince somebody that they don't need cosmetic surgery, which is a valuable transformation in itself.

What does it mean to be transformed? What will it take to change your mind? To break your mindset? To refine you for heaven? How can you tell it has happened? Can you tell?

Sometimes change happens quickly, and is obvious to everyone concerned (the Road to Damascus is the proof text). But not always. Your transformation is likely to be slow-burn – something you grow into; and it may require years, even a lifetime, of self-discipline and open-mindedness. And the quick transformations which do happen are usually triggered by something external, so they are not something you can plan for.

Does this matter? Love is patient [1 Corinthians 13 v 4], and so is God. One of the standard absolutions prays that God will grant us time to amend our lives. We need to be patient as well. Trying to find the external triggers that will lead to quick change often doesn't work. A quotation which is told to pilgrims to Iona: if you don't bring God with you to Iona, you won't find God when you get there.

Even the cosmetic surgery company recognises that the superficial "transformation" they offer takes time; this is indicated by the note in the corner of the advertisement saying "Complete aftercare programme included".