From Rev'd Louise

Monthly reflection

November 2024 Saints and sinners

As I begin to write this article, news programs and countless emails from various charities are reminding me that it is exactly one year since the events that triggered the current atrocities in the Middle East. Yet, as we probably all know, those events did not come out of a vacuum; they were the consequence of a decades-old situation.

At times, probably all people of faith and all people of goodwill have wrestled with ideas about how to bring about a lasting solution, how to bring about lasting peace, in the troubled nations of the Middle East. Almost universally, Christians claim to be those who believe in peace, in justice, in reconciliation. But I suspect also almost universally, this belief becomes challenging when we try to work out what it might look like in practice. The Bible, and especially the Old Testament, teaches that true peace is not possible whilst there is injustice. In the current areas of conflict – and in countless other conflicts that do not make the news headlines - there can surely hardly be a life that has not been profoundly affected by actual or perceived injustices. And those seeking for a political solution are inevitably faced with those who see armed conflict as the only way forward.

Throughout history, Christianity has always had both those who believe that conflict is always wrong in all circumstances, and those who believe in the concept of a ‘just war,’ those who believe that in some circumstances ‘the end can justify the means.’ Both views are attempts to work out what Jesus’ commands to ‘love our enemies,’ and to care for the needy and the vulnerable, might look like in a complex and imperfect world.

I have no answers. But as I wrestle with such ‘big’ problems two thoughts have been helpful for me. The first is that when I regard someone whose actions I believe to be evil, I remember that I cannot believe that God, who is good, has ever created a new born baby evil. So each such person is a product of both their life experiences and their choices, and so needs both our compassion and our prayers for their healing and transformation. The second thought is the Christian idea that there is both ‘saint’ and ‘sinner’ in each one of us. We are all capable of both great good and great harm. I may not be able to change the world, but I can look in my own heart for the seeds of greed and selfishness and fears, that lead me to seek my own way at the expense of others. And with God’s help, I can change.

My prayer for us all this month is that we will not turn away from global news that we find distressing, but will join in the prayer of all those longing for a better world, all those who ‘hunger and thirst for righteousness.’

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October 2024 Where's your favourite church?

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with someone about churches they had visited. As they shared some of what they had enjoyed most, and as we discovered some of the ‘likes’ we had in common, and some of our differences, I found myself reflecting on what puts a church I visit onto my list of ‘favourite churches.’

Although I’m not usually a ‘fan’ of elaborate decoration in churches, the soaring grandeur of the stonework in some cathedrals has certainly made it onto my list of favourites, especially where I have memories of almost empty cathedrals echoing with my footsteps as I walk. But I love too the relative simplicity of the new Coventry cathedral, and one of my all-time favourite churches is the chapel at a monastery, which is extremely bare, which has a silence that is palpable, and which has its own particular brand of cold, even on the warmest of days!

My list of favourite churches also contains some where I can barely recall any of their details except for some modern stain glass windows, and one church that I love purely for its churchyard, which it began managing for conservation in the 1980s, as part of the ‘Living Churchyard’ project, and which is now an incredible haven of colour and fragrance and birdsong all year round. I love some churches that are unusual; one that is octagonal and one that is not a church at all, but a simple worshipping space in an old stone shed. And many of the churches on my ‘favourites’ list are tiny, notable partly for their size – or lack of it – and mainly because they are places where passers-by leave prayers.

My favourite churches vary hugely; some are modern, some are ancient, some are tiny, some are vast, some are elaborate, some are plain, some are clearly home to vibrant worshipping communities, some aren’t. But they all have one thing in common. They are all places that for me are what theologians sometimes call ‘thin places,’ places where heaven and earth seem particularly close. They are all places where I find it easy to sense God’s presence. They are all places that, once I am there, I am reluctant to leave. They are all places that draw me back.

My prayer this month is for all those who visit our nation’s churches, maybe out of interest in the history, maybe out of curiosity, maybe seeking prayer or worship, or something they cannot define. My prayer is that each of our churches will be a place where someone finds what they are looking for, will be for someone a ‘thin place.’ And my prayer for us all, is that we too will find those places that are ‘thin places’ for us.

September 2024 What's your viewpoint?

On one occasion over the summer, as Richard and I were walking in North Yorkshire, we came across a viewing bench occupied by two people. As we walked on we shared with one another our amusement that, with a stunning view of the North York Moors in front of them, both people were looking down, apparently utterly absorbed by their mobile phones.

But as we walked on, I found that image of those two people would not go away, and I found myself reflecting how they were modelling for me something of how I know that I am at times. I am surrounded by the astonishing wonder of God’s world, and the astonishing wonder of God’s continuing work in his world in so many, many ways, and yet I don’t always notice it, because I am not always looking; sometimes I can be looking at – maybe even totally absorbed by – other things.

It has often been said that to live well as a Christian we have to look in several different directions at once. We should be looking upwards, inwards and outwards; upwards to God, inwards to ourselves, and outwards to our neighbours. Looking upwards to God is not upwards in the sense of the unhelpful image of God ‘up in the sky,’ but upwards in the sense of looking up at someone we respect and admire, and want to become more like. Christians ‘look upwards’ to God in various ways; by reading the Bible, by prayer, by contemplating God’s natural world, by any spiritual activity that helps us focus on what God is like, and how God wants us to live.

Scripture, the Bible, has often been described as like a mirror; if we let it, it will show us ourselves. Looking inwards as a Christian is about allowing our awareness of what God is like and what God values, to act like a mirror for us, showing us what is good and what is bad in ourselves, knowing that God loves us infinitely and wants us to be the very best that we can be. Looking outwards as a Christian is about looking towards the world around us and allowing what we discover, as we look upwards at God, to shape how we respond to all our neighbours, near and far, human and non-human.

Many, if not most of us, live our lives today surrounded by many things that seem to clamour for our attention. My prayer for myself, and for all of us, is that that image of those two people who seemed oblivious to the wonder and beauty in front of them, will remind me not to become so distracted and absorbed by ‘stuff’, that I lose sight of the wonder and beauty that God shows me every day, if only I am looking at it.