My oldest war wound is now barely visible on the underside of my left arm. It was inflicted by Steven Stubbs in our village school when I was 5 years old. On this particular morning, he’d really wound me up (not, of course, in any way provoked). It culminated in him leaning across the table and stabbing me with his HB pencil. We both ended up in front of Mrs Ferguson’s desk. He was told never to do this again. I was told ‘forget it; don’t think about it anymore’. During Lent this year, we’ll be taking as our theme ‘See, I am doing a new thing’ (Isaiah 43:19). It seems appropriate that, before we begin that journey tomorrow, we might today consider the previous verse: ‘Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past’ (Isaiah 43:18). Of course, we recognise that ‘remembering’ is at the heart of the Christian Gospel. Indeed, if we go back a few more verses, Israel is told to look to the past by remembering the great things that God did for them at the Red Sea (Isaiah 43:16). But following this, Israel is also told that there is a sense in which they must forsake and forget the past with all its discouragement and defeat and move on to what God has in store for the future (Isaiah 43:18). There’s a challenge for us here both individually and collectively. Shrove Tuesday comes from the word ‘shrive’ which means to obtain absolution for sins through confession. What will you and I confess this day and seek not to dwell on any longer? And equally importantly, what is God calling us as a church to forget and not dwell on any longer; to leave behind? I wonder whether this would be a good question for the agenda of a Lent PCC? For the most time, I have now forgotten and don’t dwell on the episode with Steven Stubbs. But I still struggle with the words of Mrs Ferguson (inspired perhaps by Isaiah): ‘forget it; don’t think about it anymore’. Lord, help me to do this, that I may look forward and see that you are indeed doing a new thing and are calling us to join in. Enjoy your pancakes! Archdeacon Paul Davies
It was a throw-away remark from a friend last week, which somehow stuck in the mind. At that point we were still in the middle of the forty days of Christmas (which draw to a close on the feast of Candlemas, which we celebrated on February 2nd); and this particularly bleak midwinter was evidenced by the snow on the ground as I looked out of my study window. The idea of <em>anyone</em> planting <em>anything</em> at such a time seemed absurd. But my friend knows a thing or two about gardening, and I had no reason to doubt him. Now is the time to be sowing onions. It was the Area Deans who gave me some idea of what that might look like as we met together on a zoom call yesterday morning. No-one was minimising the challenges of this season in the life of our church and wider communities (not to mention the personal challenges it’s throwing up). No-one was unrealistic about the complexities of a gradual return to some kind of normality. But as we began to address the question, ‘What might a post-pandemic church look like, and how should we prepare for it?’ there was a real energy to our discussions, and a sense of renewed hope. True, things won’t be the same, everyone agreed that. But do we want them to be the same? Does God? Or may this prolonged crisis give us the opportunity for new vision, fresh thinking, based on all we’ve been learning along the way? Is now the time to be sowing onions? It’s a theme we will be exploring further as we look towards the season of Lent; and it’s prompted a prayer that I’m finding myself praying most days, based on the words of Isaiah 43:19: <em>‘Lord, you are doing a new thing. Help us to perceive it’. </em> <strong>Bishop Andrew</strong>
