Tonight we reflected on John 21:19-31, the story of the Risen Jesus appearing to the disciples as they were fishing. We spent time sitting with the reading and then chatted about our responses: in particular, the sense that after all the chaos and trauma, Jesus helped the disciples “move on and find the fish”, and how much we too need to rest in his intimate, grounded presence. Continue reading “Group reflection: Intimate grounded presence”
Paul writes, “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:11)
I look around at our little community and beyond, often seeing so much that is difficult to bear. Sickness, heartache, misunderstandings, long, tired weariness. How do we keep going? Continue reading “16 | small campfires #Lent2022”
When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons sitting there, dressed and in his right mind, and they were afraid … The man went away and began to tell in the ten cities how much Jesus had done for him: and all the people were amazed. (Mark 5:15, 20)
I met Fernando after he arrived from Rikers Island, where he had attempted suicide. Continue reading “15 | radical kinship #Lent2022”
An encounter with God means an encounter with love: and this can be truly terrifying. (Listen.)
Why are you at worship today? If I were to ask most of you, you’d say something like, “I want to be closer to God” or “I hope to experience God’s presence.” These are good and right reasons to be here. They are what we always hope for, and making space for such an encounter is exactly what I try to do. But it must be said: I have never yet curated a service where people have fallen flat on their faces in awe, terror and wonder at the devastating presence of the Living God. Nor have I heard anyone shriek, “Get away from me, Lord, for I am sinful!”, or say they think they’ll die in God’s presence. And I’m not sure any of us here want these reactions: yet in Biblical accounts, such responses are normal. Continue reading “Isaiah | Awe, wonder and the threat of love”
Sanctuary’s taking a summer break. This month, many of us are on leave and outside every day, so here’s a little something from the archives on prayerfully considering creation: a practice some call ‘sensio divina’.
‘Do I not fill the earth?’ says God (Jer. 23:24b).
Our ancestor Jacob woke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely God is in this place, and I didn’t know it!’ (Gen. 28:16). Like Jacob, people have sensed God’s presence in creation for millennia, and perhaps this is why Jesus so often prayed outdoors. What follows is a simple grounding exercise to help you observe God’s presence in the place where you are. Move through the steps in order, or float between them: they are just a tool. And remember, like all spiritual exercises, it gets easier with practice. Continue reading “Consider creation”
In response to human suffering, God offers presence and a broader perspective. (Listen.)
God, why was Elephant killed? What about J and K and all our other friends this year? Why is there a plague galloping across the earth, and so many people suffering or dead? How long must we live in fear? When can we see friends and family again? We’re good people, Lord, faithful and committed and true. We try to live ethically; we pray: why is this all happening? Continue reading “Job | Responsibility, awe and wonder”
This term, we have been reflecting more than ever on healing, wholeness and integration. Here, Lucy shares a particular terror of hers, and an experience of integration both with her body and with a wider story: that first Easter Dawn. Thanks, Lucy!
Driving in pre-dawn darkness
Draws (for me) a deep shade of terror –
And on this unfamiliar, unlit,
Curving, swerving, hurtling highway,
I can almost smell
The pungent permanent ink of it. Continue reading “Driving in pre-dawn darkness”
When God seems absent, we need each other. (Listen.)
Did you hear it? The disciples have been sent into shutdown. For the Risen Jesus orders them not to leave Jerusalem. Instead, they must wait for the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, which will fill them with power. Then he moves into the cloud which signifies God’s presence, and disappears from their sight. And so the disciples—men and women both—go back to the room where they’re staying, and devote themselves to prayer. They don’t know what the future holds; they don’t know how long they must wait. But in faith they bunker down to watch and wait, pray and wonder: in all these things, together.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change. (Psalm 46:1-2a)
I’m sick of COVID. Sick of the talk, sick of the updates, the notifications on my phone that remind me there is a ‘pandemic across the state of Victoria’. I’m sick of hearing about the numbers, the national comparisons and just the general interruption of it all.
“Remember: I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20b)
For me it’s been a year beyond words. Bushfires which left me reeling; we had driven to southern NSW the September earlier and had felt so unsettled by the unusually dry spring in Gippsland and up through southern NSW. All things COVID: the news, the lockdowns and the continued havoc of COVID overseas. Family and close friends dealing with significant health issues.