Because you have seen me, you have believed

The Gospel Reading for this Sunday tells us about the first two appearances of Jesus to his Apostles after his Resurrection.  Thomas, who was not there the first time Jesus appeared, and is often labelled a sceptic because he is unwilling to believe the fantastic news that Jesus’ body had not been stolen but he had, in fact, risen from the dead just three days after his gruesome crucifixion, just as Jesus himself had prophesied.  From this story, we might believe that Thomas’s faith is anchored in sight alone and that unless he sees and touches the wounds left by the nails on Jesus’ hands, he will not believe. 

Because of this story, we often label him ‘doubting Thomas.’ 

But I disagree.

I believe that Thomas is honest, Thomas is courageous, and Thomas is bold enough to ask questions others are two afraid to ask. Earlier in John’s gospel, it is Thomas who had the courage to say what everyone else was thinking but didn’t dare say. The courage to ask the awkward questions that drew from Jesus some of the most beautiful and profoundly comforting of all his sayings. It was Thomas who said to jesus, “We don’t know where you’re going; how can we know the way”? , and because he had the courage to ask the question, we were given that beautiful saying

“I am the way the Truth and the Life”

But where was Thomas when Jesus first appear to the disciples?  Was he out plotting a safe exit from Jerusalem for the others?  Was he discreetly purchasing food and other provisions that they might need ?  We don’t know; all we can surmise is that Jesus’ disciples were hiding in fear and that Thomas was not with them.  Considering the little we know about Thomas, this is not altogether surprising.  Thomas seems to be different from the others, seems to have different ways of processing information, and seems unashamed to express them openly.

As a curate, I am still a vicar in training, and part of my training is to spend time in varied placements. So far, I have spent a week at Avonmouth Social Justice Hub and a term at the Springboard Opportunity Group. Springboard, provides a  safe and secure place where children with disabilities are able to learn and flourish. Where different isn’t different and additional needs are not an additional burden. When you parent a child who has additional needs your hopes are somewhat different than those of parents of children with no additional needs or disabilities Sadly, the word Doubt is often the word used by professionals to describe your child’s future. ‘ I doubt they will walk, I doubt they will live past infancy, I doubt they will ever say ‘ mummy or daddy’ or even make eye contact with you. I doubt they will ever live independently.

Springboard do not doubt, and they literally give the voiceless a voice. They listen and value the children in their care. Just one example many of the children are non-verbal, but each is given the opportunity to choose  where to sit what story they might like. The  staff look for eye movements and gestures that indicate choice. They believe in love and diversity and as a family, when we fostered our beautiful little boy with additional needs, they believed in his future. So, one small reason for going to Springboard was to say thank you for believing in us, for knowing what we needed and for walking with us when we doubted our ability to parent this very special little boy.

Jesus knew what Thomas needed, to believe and Thomas knew what he needed too.

Thomas  said, “Unless I see the nail holes in his hands, put my finger in the nail holes, and stick my hand in his side, I won’t believe it.”

It took 8 days before  Thomas had his moment of believing, and it was only then that Thomas would proclaim ‘

My Lord and my God!’  

I find Thomas’ story inspirational because of his courage and clarity in valuing and expressing his own experience and needs. Thomas needed to have his own personal experience of Jesus and not live his faith through other people’s experiences of Jesus.

Jesus also knew that Thomas needed to experience his resurrection personally in a way that Thomas would be able to believe . Jesus has uniquely personal relationships with everyone he encounters, then and now. Thomas  tells us its ok to be different, to have different needs, and different ways of believing and understanding. We are all beautifully and wonderfully made. Many of us have similar needs, common hopes, and shared fears, yet we all experience God differently. George MacDonald, a Scottish poet and minister, and a mentor to C. S. Lewis writes. ‘We are not the same in our experience of God. Each and every person has an indelible and a unique relationship to God. Each person has been created and fashioned by God, like no one else. Each one of us can know and worship God as no one else can’ 

Springboard has been a part of my life since 2012; I have had the privilege of volunteering in the playroom and being a parent and supporter of this fantastic charity. A charity which really does springboard families from doubt into hope. I have listened to parents talk about their lives and how having a disabled child is like packing a suitcase for a holiday in the sun and arriving in a war-torn city  fearful for every moment of every day. As I have listened to stories of adoption, heartbreak, and pain. Every story I have ever heard has been utterly unique and real.

 In the story of Thomas, we find a kind of “double faithfulness”: Thomas is faithful to his own integrity and his own experience of Jesus. Clearly, his experience overlapped with that of the other disciples, but not identically. We also see in Jesus a kind of faithfulness to how we have all been created uniquely, with our own unique ways of learning and interrelating the world around us. Jesus validated Thomas’ unique experience of him, and so he does ours. So he does yours. Each and every one of us can know and worship God as no one else can. And for each one of us, God has a different response. George MacDonald said that in every person there is a kind of longing, an “inner chamber” which only God can enter.

The story of God and the story of us are interwoven with the words written in this book. It’s a living document, and I invite you to hold the book in front of you and imagine who this version of the Bible might be best suited to—maybe a teenager, a theological student, a new Christian, a child with additional needs, or maybe it’s a Bible that sits on a bookshelf in a holiday cottage waiting for the right person and the right time to reveal its story.

I invite you to hold the Bible in front of you during a moment’s silence and pray that the words held within its pages will be revealed to those who have not yet seen or heard them before. They will be revealed to those who question and those who need to live a life removed from doubt so they can experience hope in all its fullness.

Let us pray.

Amen.

^{John 20 :29}  Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed;

The shameful misspelt me.

I am squelching through the images that populate my thoughts in search of the grammar that firmly sits on solid ground.

I am forevermore route planning sentences, avoiding hills and unpronounceable roads. Constantly searching for places of creative rest and colour.

I am seeking thin spaces where wisdom is a feeling and words a silent a whisper that dwells in the heart.

I am pondering the brambles, painfully aware of the misplaced, misspelt words that pearce my confidence and silence the song of the unformed words trapped in my heart.

I delight in the unknowing, pulled into her colourful silent slipstream of unconditional love.

I delight in the dandelion and wander beneath the trees, silently knowing without understanding that God loves and knows the shameful misspelt me.

leeky Teapots

Have you ever encountered those  funny silver teapots that you get in English seaside cafes and rattle around in the backs of kitchen cupboards? Teapots that however carefully you pour the tea, they indiscriminately leek scolding hot tea over work tops, tablecloths and every so often you find the most amazing   teapot that’s able to pour hot tea over multiple occupants of a single table.  These little pots just don’t pour; we can’t blame our pouring technique. It’s not about skill; it’s just that these little pots leek. It seems these teapots were designed to spill hot tea and soak tablecloths, created to make a mess and a perfect cup of tea.

I think that’s how I would describe autism … functional people whose hearts pour out love in creative and unexpected ways, and the reason is, quite simply, they are created that way.

It’s a beautiful heart that pours out love in the most unexpected ways; the autistic heart is not straightforward; it does not understand why it functions in such a unique and different way. Emotionally, it’s a  heart that can’t always understand the logic of the neurotypical world. This can cause feelings of shame, worthlessness, and a core belief that they have nothing to give to the world.  The saddest thing of all is that these beautiful hearts are fragile and easily broken. Many autistic adults withdraw from the world that does not understand them into a safe place that they can call home. While others search for a place of belonging, a place of acceptance and a community that values the gifts that they bring without judgment.

In John’s gospel (John 14 1-4), we read that there is a place for all of us; Jesus told us himself that in my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places, a place prepared just for you. We often reed this passage at Funerals, finding comfort and reassurance that there is a place in heaven for all of us. But surely there should also be a place for us all on earth too. A place where troubled hearts can dwell in the divine presence, a place that accepts us just as we are, accepts us in our messiness and our brokenness.  A place that does not push the leaky teapot to the back of the cupboard. A place that unashamedly fills this teapot with scolding hot tea, and boldly pours.

I’m not suggesting we deliberately scold people or purposefully drench tablecloths and floors with burning hot tea. But I am suggesting we find new ways of being, a  place that brings the gifts of a leaky teapot equally alongside the bone China teapots. A place that always has an abundance of tissues to cope with spillage and loving hearts to help others unaccustomed to navigate a new way of being, to dream a new way of doing. Maybe to dream such a  dream is foolish but held in the poignant words of the song somewhere (a place for us ) from Westside story, we hear Valentina singing this dream. She’s reaching for the impossible, in search of a tangible place that’s so thin you can only feel its presence. She’s holding onto the hope that this place is real, that there is a place for all of us. I’ve only just realised she sings about a place for all of us. The us is important. When we read the words of John’s gospel, we reed words of hope, of a place where diversity is lived out and inclusion given.

I wonder if this place can only be found in a realm beyond our own understanding, only be lived when we let go of what we know and enter into a place of risk and unknowing. A place that sings of peace and tolerance, for the gifts of difference  to live alongside one another and all voices can sing and be heard. These places have to be real; we need to believe in them like Simeon believed that one day he would see Messiah( Jesus ). He believed in a new way that dwelled beyond his own understanding. He reached out boldly and recognised the baby as Jesus as the Messiah. When he held Jesus in his arms, he felt the bittersweet pain of Mary and prophesied that the deepest thoughts of many hearts would be transformed by the baby who gently lay in his arms.   He knew this new way would be painful; he knew it would be messy, yet he spoke a painful truth to  Mary, a reality that would painfully pierce the soul of her heart.

Simeon spoke no logic, only truth; his ministry was fulfilled by holding and declaring that Jesus is the light of the world,  a light to reveal God to the nations. He proclaimed a new way of being and spoke of a place that was not yet. A place for all of us. Somewhere, somehow, the baby in his arms would transform the hearts of many. A heavenly transformation that calls us all to unashamedly include the leaky teapots, to place them on the table and pour. This new way, this new place is messy, enabling multiple voices to sing for the broken-hearted to be heard and the lost a place to rest. Yet this new way of being does not take away the pain; it does not stop the sword from piercing Mary’s heart.When we love, we cannot do so without pain, and for those who stand in a mess of a new way of being, those who risk walking into the unknowing, get a glimpse of this holy place prepared for us by Jesus. A place where we taste the new way of being, but only if we are brave enough to pour.

John 14:2-12New Living Translation

² There is more than enough room in my Father’s home.^[a] If this were not so, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?^[b] 3 When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. ⁴ And you know the way to where I am going.”

Divine Mother

Taking refuge in the divine heart is a beautiful book written by Mirabai Starr. Throughout her book, Mirabai leaves space for written reflection, and the first reflection is writing a letter to the divine mother that expresses the words held in our hearts. For me, a letter cannot say these words, so I have written her a short poem.

Divine Mother.                

Your essence is infused with my soul Wondering within myself, I fall into your wisdom. Quieting my questioning mind to your deep unknowing Entangled in your divine silence that dwells in the wilderness of love.

Mirabai suggests that after writing you pause and write a letter from the divine mother to yourself, with everything your soul needs to hear.

Wondering child

Wondering child, the world is on fire, the world is hurting, you see the pain, you hear my silent whispers.  You hide behind the routines of life; you do what is expected of you.  Rediscover that silent child that unashamedly danced with me.

Wondering child, free yourself from the structures of this world, from the sentences that limit you. Entangle yourself in the silence of creation and form words that only come from the heart.

Wondering child, you doubt what you feel, you worry that you lack academic understanding. Be strong, be a voice of heartfelt truth, and I promise to will share your pain and recycle your tears. 

Wondering child, your delight in creation is exhausting; remember to spend time with me, to remove your shoes and socks and walk barefooted on holy ground. To be with me, and I will give you space to rest.

Wondering child, you are beautifully and wonderfully made. You are woven into creation. Created to touch the leaves on the trees, to smell autumn and delight in the winter snow. You are created to share these delights, to creatively share the wonders of creation, and to care for the divine earth.

Your loving Mother Earth.

Love whispered in prayer.

God’s mission invites us all on an adventure of love

I wonder what you think of when you read or hear the word mission? 

Some of us will instantly think of the church’s missional work overseas. Others will say that to be missional means we live out our Christian faith by sharing the good news of the kingdom, by baptising new believers and responding to the needs of others and transforming the unjust structures of society. That to be missional is to challenge violence and pursue peace and reconciliation.  Mission for some is rooted in caring for God’s creation, being a voice that demands practical changes to ensure a sustainable future of planet earth.

For many, mission can be defined in one simple word ‘love’. 

Jesus taught us to love one another. St. Paul writes that love is patient, that love is kind, and that love rejoices in the truth. Mystic Julian of Norwich wrote in the 14th century of divine love, a oneness of love that connects us to creation and the goodness of God. 

Love is a timeless word that is grounded in scripture, offering a transformative hope that energizes God’s mission.  Love can only be transformative when it flows from Jesus. It’s through Jesus that we are sent out to take part in God’s mission. Mission comes from God, and we are called quite simply to join in. As a parish, we are constantly joining in with God’s mission, humbly and quietly sharing that transformative love that comes from knowing Jesus. 

As we journey into September, I encourage you to notice the humble quiet love that permeates through our towns, villages and citys. A beautiful love that sends and equips us to live out our Christian faith by sharing the good news of the kingdom. A love that calls us to respond to the needs of others. A love that calls us to work together, challenging violence and pursuing peace. A love that calls the church and the world to care for God’s creation, to be a United voice that demands practical changes to safeguard the future of planet Earth.

Love alone is not enough unless it’s whispered in prayer. Prayer is missional, mission is dependent on prayer. The actions that come from prayer are carried out in love; prayer transforms us so we can walk blindly in faith and join in with God’s mission which invites us all on an adventure of love. 

Angels Unawares

In St Peter’s Square Rome sits a  life-size bronze statue depicting migrants and refugees from different cultural and racial backgrounds and from diverse historic periods of time. They stand together, shoulder to shoulder, huddled on a raft. Within this diverse crowd of people, angel wings emerge from the centre, suggesting the presence of the sacred among them. The inspiration behind the work is taken from a few lines of scripture.

Hebrews 13.2

 Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.

The stories of many migrants and refugees are reminiscent of the story of Joseph, Mary and Jesus. They fled on the advice of an angel that came to Joseph in a dream and warns him to take his family and leave Bethlehem. This was Because Herod was planning to “seek out their child, to seek out the infant Jesus to destroy him, ”  So they journeyed together as refugees from Bethlehem to Egypt. The stature St Peters Square is called Angels Unaware. It highlights the courage, determination, hardships, joys, and sorrows of people who have been led or forced to leave their homeland in the hope of finding a new home, a safe place to live and dwell. People have been moving and fleeing their homes, throughout history, but behind each migrant is a story to be told. Stories of hardship, percussion, stories of journeys into new cultures and new lives, stories of angels that need to be heard and retold.

The bronze statue in St peters Square is  Lifesize, the boat that holds the people is boat size, the teddy bear held by a child is teddy bear size, and the bag of tools clutched by the carpenter are the size of real tools.  You can touch the statue, walk around it and look into the eyes of those going on a journey to a destination and a life unknown. Yet you can’t touch the angel, this is because she is so deep in the sculpture.  You cannot look into her eyes, or even make out the features of her face. Most of the angel is hidden, from her head to her toes she is hidden among the people. BUT what you can see is her wings. You can see the wings of the angel amongst the people, the angel is with them and journeying alongside them.

I think we might be at our most angelic when we walk blindly when we spontaneously act from the heart and respond prayerfully without really giving much thought to why?Maybe when we act purely from the heart, we find ourselves standing shoulder to shoulder with the stranger oblivious to powerful actions that outwardly pour from our hearts, and unaware of the angel we have just welcomed. When we welcome the stranger, we create a space for the spirit to do something beautiful and transformative. Maybe for a moment, we create a space for the stranger to see Christ working in and through us.  A moment in time that is just long enough for the stranger to brush against the angels’ healing wings that gently tower above us.

One thing that stands out in the stature is that men women and children standing on the boat, all face outwards, it seems that they too are unaware of the angel that is travelling with them.

I wonder what it would take for them to turn and look the other way to see sacred travelling among them ?  I wonder how many times we look the other way and fail to see the angel standing with us?

The world is full of strangers, we encounter them daily, and we have one job that was given to us by Jesus Himself: Love them. to show them hospitality, and when that love comes from a prayerful heart that acts in a spirit filled moment, we too might get to brush against the angels’ healing wings that gently tower above us.

Just Bluebells

It’s that time of year when our ancient woodland floors are smudged with hues of Blue, and the air is filled with the heavenly aroma of Bluebells. The native bluebell, Hyacinthoides non-scipta, (  Hyacinthoides means “like a hyacinth” Non-scripta means ‘ without writing’. ) is also known as the common Bluebell,  wood bell, and the fairy flower. Local ancient woodlands are some of our richest habitats in the UK. These precious habitats have remained mainly undisturbed for centuries. The Bluebells that colour our woodland floors are a great indicator of a biodiverse woodland, steeped in history, and as endangered as the tropical rainforests.  Bluebells first appeared in Britain not long after the last Ice age. They have a history awash with stories of fairies and folklore. In the language of flowers, the bluebell is a symbol of humility, constancy, gratitude and everlasting love. In the Bronze age, our ancestors attached flights of feathers to their arrows with glue made from bluebell bulbs, and the Tudors used a starch extracted from crushed bluebell roots to stiffen their iconic ruff collars. Bluebell bulbs also contain toxins, it was because of these toxins that they were used as a source of glue for bookbinding. This discouraged silverfish from attacking the books. For centuries pages of scripture have been bound together with Bluebell glue. Bound together by a plant with a botanical name Non-scripta,  meaning without words. Amazing to think that the plant without words is the glue that binds together our ancient pages of scripture. Pages that hold the grand narrative of God’s mission and the stories of God’s people.

To see awesome drifts of bluebells and be filled with their heavenly scent is a gift. A gift of wonder and awe; the gift to appreciate God’s glories and wonders at every moment, in everything we see and everyone we encounter. But the gift of wonder can often leave us speechless, creating within us moments of stillness and silence. Humbling moments when we see the outstanding beauty of the small Blue flower and simultaneously see the greatness of God.  

Poet Gerard Manley Hopkins saw in the humble bluebell the very “glory of God” So it is with his words that I end.

‘I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than the bluebell I have been looking at. I know the beauty of our Lord by it. Its inscape is full of strength and grace’” Gerard Manley Hopkins.

The quintessential daffodil.

For many, daffodils epitomise spring and the quintessential daffodil image that many of us hold is that of a single trumpet-shaped flower that colourises roadsides, hedgerows, parks and gardens with drifts of bright yellow hues.  Most of the daffodils that we see are cultivars, plants bread and selected for their colour, size, fragrance, etc. There are a staggering 30,000 cultivars of daffodils, some with double flowers and colours ranging from pink to green and anything in-between.

On the 15^th of April 1802 poet William Wordsworth was walking in the lake district (Gowbarrow park) with his younger sister Dorothy when they came across a drift of yellow daffodils. Dorothy records this day in her diary and she describes the daffodils growing among the mossy stones beside the lake as some of the most beautiful ever seen. Her brother William was also inspired by the daffodils that danced in the wind and rested their heads upon the mossy stones that he penned one of the nation’best-loveded poems ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’ .

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
   That floats on high o’er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
   A host of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
   And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
   Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
   Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:—
A Poet could not but be gay
   In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the shew to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
   In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
   Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.

The daffodils that filled both Dorothy and William with wonder were wild daffodils (Narcissus Pseudonarcissus ) also known as the Lent Lilly. These pale-coloured two-tone delicate flowers were once a very common sight in England and Wales, though they rapidly declined in the mid-19th century, partly due to habitat loss.  

Wordsworth’s poem captures the beauty of nature and the life-affirming inspiration that can be found in a simple walk outdoors. Dorothy’s journal has become an important record that documents climate change. Her recording of the daffodils flowering in mid-April reveals that many wildflowers in the uk are flowering around a month earlier than they used to. This early flowering is due to climate change as average maximum temperatures at the start of the year increase year on year.  Scientists warn that this could lead to more plants becoming out of step with the environment, risking food security, and ecosystem mismatch.

It would not seem right to end this article on daffodils without mentioning Saint David. On the 1^st of March, the feast of Saint David is celebrated, it’s a day when many Welsh people wear daffodils (cennin Pedr) in honour of their patron saint. The daffodil is one of the national symbols of Wales, and the Welsh name for daffodil means “Peter’s leek.

The true St David’s Day daffodil is considered by some to be the Tenby daffodil ( Narcissus pseudonarcissus ssp obvallaris )  which grows wild in South Wales. Unlike the wild daffodils discovered by Dorothy and William Wordsworth the Tenby daffodil has an all-yellow flower.  

Saint David was a monk, abbot and bishop, and he was canonised for spreading Christianity across the land. He did not eat meat or drink beer and was said to only consume leaks and water. His last words to his followers are claimed to have stated ‘Gwnewch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd’, which translates to ‘Do the little things in life’.

‘Doing the little things in life’ might mean we think of God’s creation when coming to church; maybe we could walk or cycle if we can or consider car-sharing.  ‘Doing the little things’ means the heating has been turned down in our church buildings to care for the world and reduce our fuel bills.

‘Doing the little things’ will ensure that wild daffodils continue to dance in the wind and that the beauty of nature and the opportunity of a simple walk outdoors will continue to inspire the poets of the future.

‘Doing the little things’ is safeguarding God’s precious creation for generations to come.’

Momentary sparkles of peace.

Spontaneous tears follow the familiar contours of the one who longs to keep her hands plunged deep into creation. Who finds comfort in this unspoken salty connection to the spirit who hovered over the face of the water.

Unprompted tears are the bubbles that cling to feet that paddle in a babbling brook. Crossing boundaries, these high-energy resilient droplets flow into estuaries oxygenated by a universal language of love.  

Love that Silently creates a salty path of awareness that sustains and heals the one who longs to walk barefooted into the presence of love.  

Please do not reach out to these tears, do not touch, do not dry or wipe them away. Please do not offer words of comfort to these Spirit-filled unprompted tears.

These tears need to be felt; they need to roll and journey to the estuary,  to the place where the spirit dances and the exhausted find momentary sparkles of peace.

Great Depths.

This weekend the next step in my journey has been confirmed, it’s a gift from God. Yet I wobble, and I am scared, scared in the knowledge that I have to walk through this door, In response to the emotions that I am holding I have taken Psalm 51 ( the message) and added a few of my own words.. my own way of taking my emotions and giving them to God.

This weekend the next step in my journey has been confirmed, it’s a gift from God. Yet I wobble, and I am scared, scared in the knowledge that I have to walk through this door, In response to the emotions that I am holding I have taken Psalm 51 ( the message) and added a few of my own words.. my own way of taking my emotions and giving them to God.

Generous in love—God, give grace!
Huge in mercy— hold my emotions
Scrub away the guilt of my tears,
Wash away my doubts.
you know how much I trust you.
Yet sometimes my doubts just drown me.

You’re the one who believes in me, and you’ve seen
it all, seen the full extent of my life.
You have all the facts before you.
whatever you decide about me is fair.

I’ve been feeling wobbly and of step,
You know that is nothing new for me
What you’re after is trust from the inside out.
Please continue to guide and walk with me.

Wash me in the power of your sea and I’ll come out clean,
scrub me with the rough pebbles.
Help me listen to the rhythm of your ocean,
set this fearful mind free to dance in the waves.
Don’t look too closely when I slip and trip,
I just need alittle time to adjust to the new life you have given me.

God, make a fresh start in me,
shape hope and joy into the chaos of my life.
Please don’t throw me out so deep
That I cannot swim, and if you do, please
Bring me back from time to time,
So I can once again feel the pebbles beneath my feet.

Guide me and push me to the far edges of my inner self.
Guide me to the lost, so they too can find a new way.
Create in me a clean heart
and I’ll sing in the deepest waves.
Gift me your voice,
I’ll let loose with your praise.

Just standing still does not please you,
a crisp clean paddle in the sea is nothing to you.
I learned about you
when my heart was broken
I ventured out into great depths
For you

Make our church the place we can all delight in,
splash us all with deep waves until our cry’s turn into laughter.
Unite our worship with the dry and the soggy, the tearful and the joyful, the rich and the poor.
Unite our worship with so much love that we sing and laugh to your praise.
That together we can walk with you into the places of great depths and danger.
Amen.