by David WhitelyThe birth of Jesus was heralded. Angels declared it. People brought gifts to honour it. A star signified it, and yet at the same time, there was no place at the inn. At the same time, his birthplace was in a manger.We should never despise or be defined by our humble beginnings. Jesus’ birth was not celebrated because of what he was doing at the time of birth but what he would do.At that point, he was at the mercy of his parents’ upbringing, a child with no sway in the direction that the world went, but his destiny, his future was worth celebrating right then and there.You may not have gotten to where you want to be yet, achieved what you hoped to achieve. You may not have made any major strides towards your goals, but you can commemorate the beginning of the journey. You can celebrate the start of your ventures with the hope of your brighter tomorrow.Jesus was always looking ahead and moving according to what he knew he would do and who he knew he would become. Too often, we're crippled by our current circumstances or others' current perception of us. Well, our current condition only serves to make our future victories that much more sweet and that much more inspiring.You're in your genesis now, but the revelation of who you really are is still coming. The book of your life is still writing itself. Don't get stuck on your current chapter when your crescendo is awaiting you.Let that hope and that future expectation put a present smile on your face and a present peace in your heart.David Whitely is a radio and TV presenter.
It is almost 50 years since Ernst Schumacher wrote his book Small is Beautiful: A study in economics as if people mattered. But looking at its main themes in the light both of the Covid pandemic and of the growing problems associated with climate change, the last thing it is, is out of date.Its message is as powerful as ever. Many authors may claim to be prophetic, but Schumacher was one who truly fitted that description. Today you only have to open a newspaper, turn on the news or connect to the internet to realise the urgent need for the human race to stop being profligate with fossil fuels and the natural world, and instead to aim for sustainability in all that we do and create.The past year has also, through Covid, driven home the message forcibly that, while we are one huge global community, we can all help each other and make significant changes by taking many small steps.Thinking back over the close association I have had with BRF over the past two decades, it has struck me that Schumacher’s book title is a motto we live out in practice – ‘small is indeed beautiful’. Even when it grows into something much larger than we could have imagined initially. I think, for instance, of those first Bible reading notes produced by Revd Leslie Mannering and his team at St Matthew’s Brixton for their parishioners in 1922. Who would have believed then that we would be marking the centenary of BRF in 2022?In my own generation, I have seen other stories of remarkable growth from small things with, I believe, still more to come – thanks to the work of God, and the prayers and support of people like yourselves. The story of small beginnings with vast outcomes seems to be part of BRF’s DNA.Who would have anticipated that Messy Church would in 16 years grow from a single congregation in Hampshire to the several-thousand-strong fellowship of Messy Churches, each with its own identity, that stretch across the world today? Or that Anna Chaplains would have continued to expand in numbers despite all the constrictions caused by Covid?The story of small beginnings with vastly multiplied outcomes seems to be a part of the DNA of BRF – and that’s without mentioning Living Faith and Parenting for Faith, and all that is going on through them.I was reminded several times recently that these patterns are not just part of BRF’s DNA. They belong to God and his kingdom as well, as Jesus took pains to point out on many occasions. The parable of the mustard seed comes immediately to mind. It is a parable that Matthew, Mark and Luke all record, each in a slightly different form. Matthew’s version reads like this:‘‘The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.’ There is, Jesus is saying, something glorious about the way in which, in God’s hands, the seemingly insignificant becomes transformed and transformative. Bearing that in mind we can, of course, go deeper still, right to the roots of our faith.We can go to the events of the first Christmas – to the virgin conception and the birth of Jesus in the stable at Bethlehem. The point has been made by preachers and writers millions of times down the years, but that does not make it any less true. No one had anticipated that God’s great intervention in the history of humankind would begin with a tiny fertilised egg in Mary’s womb. Yet, when he wanted to move decisively in saving humanity he chose to do so in what seemed like – to pretty well everyone, except Mary – a very unspectacular way. We are reminded of that every Christmas.This year John Lewis has chosen as the strapline for their Christmas advertisement ‘Give a little love’. Their message is that small acts of kindness can transform the lives both of individuals and of communities. At Christmas, we celebrate God’s reaching out in the greatest act of his love that the world has ever known. The God who demonstrates his love in this way makes himself tiny and vulnerable because of his love for us all – and the whole course of history was changed as a result.For the God whom Jesus reveals, in living and dying here on earth, is indeed the God for whom ‘small is beautiful’. And so, because everything flows from that fact, may I wish you a very ‘Happy Christmas’.
by The Revd Canon Dr Sandra MillarAs you put all your decorations around the house and on the tree, do you find room for that one that you’ve kept for years, or that one the children made, all wonky and torn, yet so very precious? In my family, it’s a small musical plastic crib , well over 60 years old. The shepherds and wise men go round and round the little family in the stable. But the sheep have fallen off and a wise man keeps keeling over. We still display it, because although it’s broken, it’s full of memories.As Christmas draws close, it might feel more than a bit broken. It might feel broken because you can’t travel to be with people, because you have no work and can’t provide generously; because your relationships have fractured under the strain of the last few months, or because those we love are just not with us any more.The expectations that we pile on ourselves can make us feel that these next few days have to take us to an unrealistic perfection, so that it’s hard to admit that we might feel sad.The story of Mary is not a perfect story. It is the story of a young unmarried woman, living in a small village, who will be criticised, will journey far from home and give birth in a stable. Her cousin, Elizabeth, has not had a perfect life either, for there has been the terrible pain of longing for years for a child that never came. It is to these two women that God speaks the promise of a future, of healing and of light in the darkness.As we light the fourth candle of Advent, we acknowledge that in the joy of Christmas preparation, there will also be brokenness, and that it is to the broken that God will speak the promise of new life. The words of the angels to Mary are just the beginning of the story, and the beginning of hope.Sandra Millar is Head of Welcome and Life Events for The Church of England.
