Shiny, happy people The first time I went to church… It was full of young people and they were kind of shiny and I felt very threatened indeed. They were clapping and happy and I wasn’t happy and didn’t want to clap. If I ever came across a Christian, I’d be as unpleasant as I possibly could. I thought they were really weird, very odd people, judgemental and unpleasant, so I just wanted to stay away from them. I wasn’t happy at all and I masked that. I think people use different things to mask their pain – food, drink, drugs – I used violence to push people away and make me feel better. I fought fairly regularly on Friday and Saturday nights in town and at the football as well. I was more than happy to wade in. I was just getting on for about 30 and I went to church with this girl. And from then on…well I had this meeting with God, really, that I could not deny any longer that He was real. Me and my mates needed a reference for court and my mum was running something with the homeless so she said she would give us a reference if we went to volunteer down there. There was a little bit of a fracas and somebody got punched; we ended up getting chucked out and banned. But while I was there I saw this girl. I took a bit of a shine to her and asked her out for a pint. She said, “Well, if you come to church with me, I’ll go for a drink.” And I thought, well this is going to be easy now – I’ve got her! And I got a little bit more than I bargained for. The first time I went to church I absolutely hated it and I was really nasty to them ‘cause they were all really friendly and it wasn’t what I expected. It was full of young people and they were kind of shiny and I felt very threatened indeed. They were clapping and happy and I wasn’t happy and didn’t want to clap. So it was not what I’d bargained for at all. And these people were just really nice and I sat there looking fairly miserable, trying to get rid of them. Towards the end of the service, the guy who was speaking, it was as though he was speaking to me. He started saying, “Let’s pray” and all these emotions came up and I thought I just had to get out and I got up and left and went to the pub. I had a pint and a few fags and thought, “I don’t know what that was about but it’s not for me.” Later on the girl turned up and she said, “I thought we were going for a drink?” She said she’d meet if I came to another service the next night. I refused but she challenged me, saying I was scared. So I had to prove I wasn’t! I went and the same thing happened. Towards the end of the service all these

emotions came up and I thought, “I don’t want these mugs to see me upset” so I thought I’d sit there and pretend I was praying. These two guys came up and asked if they could pray for me. I felt very threatened. It was touch-and-go whether I’d whack one of them ‘cause he was saying if I called on the name of Jesus everything would change. I didn’t understand what it was about and he asked what it was that was upsetting me. I wanted all the pain and anger to go out of my life. And he said, “Just say it.” So I thought, what have I got to lose? Even if it’s just make believe I haven’t lost anything, they’ll leave me alone… And they prayed and I prayed, for the first time I suppose, and I knew there was a God. From that second I knew there was someone, and it felt as though all the rubbish that I’d carried around was in a rucksack and I’d taken it off and put it down and it was different. I told all my friends straight away. Some people thought I was trying to have the church over and rob them, and other people thought I’d lost the plot completely. A few people just didn’t want to know and I felt completely on my own. Church became a central part of what I am almost straight away. (I’m completely nuts probably but I feel more fulfilled than I ever have done in my life.) But all my old friends are still my friends and I love them to bits. I’m still the same person; I still struggle with the same things. But now I have an inner strength that comes from God that helps me not to do those things. The difference now is that I don’t want to do those things – I would rather have love, and love people, than try and get even with them. I always think people that damage and hurt people are unhappy themselves. I think pitying people is a very unpleasant thing to do so I don’t pity anyone – but I want to love them. Dave Jeal is Chaplain at Bristol Rovers This testimony was first broadcast as a ‘Pathway to Faith’ interview on BBC Radio Bristol in September 2014. / Contemplate now What things about us – good or bad – can stop us loving one another? Is it easy to drop your baggage? When Easter comes in six and a half weeks, what would you like Lent to have been? / Meditate today When we love, we make ourselves vulnerable like Jesus Christ and we receive strength from God because we become more like Him.

Revelation Unable to work, I’m soon destitute and living rough. I face horrific nightmares and paralysis, with death seeming the only option. 1977, Rhodesia: I’m given the privilege of running a special forces support unit company plus 100 irregulars for training and deployment against the enemy. Three years of high adrenalin, fighting a guerrilla war, at the end of which Robert Mugabe becomes President of Zimbabwe. I return to England with my wife and three children. Now I experience many years of failure and frustration. Due to hyper-inflation my pension is reduced to zero and my marriage collapses. Much to my shame, I spend two years on probation for assault. I begin drinking large quantities of cheap alcohol. Unable to work, I’m soon destitute and living rough. I face horrific nightmares and paralysis, with death seeming the only option. Revelation: a small Polish chapel… I’m drawn to it…I enter and say a prayer. On Sunday I attend communion and am immediately up-lifted. Within weeks I’m recovering. I have found Christ. Life was darkness. Jesus held out a light at the end of the tunnel. Jesus shone a searchlight for me which overwhelmed the darkness which had enveloped me. It was a hand to grasp and God turned my despair to hope. Richard lives in Swindon and goes to churches in the surrounding area. / Contemplate now Are our lives illuminated by the light and love of Christ? What other things do we have that shine for us? Where do their lights point? / Meditate through the day The nature of our troubles is somehow changed when we think of God’s love – and through that love, God suffers with us.

The whole armour of God I decided to pray and ask God, if He existed why did I feel so down and what did I need in my life to take away all the negativity that was surrounding me? Even though I believed in God, I didn’t have any trust or faith in Him, and experimenting with New Age spiritualism left me feeling low, angry, afraid, lonely and lost. One night, feeling really fed up and low, I decided to pray and ask God, if He existed why did I feel so down and what did I need in my life to take away all the negativity that was surrounding me? Through a dream, my eyes were opened to all the deception and dangers my so called spiritualism was having on me. That morning I felt a connection to God and felt that He did answer my prayer. I continued to pray to God and decided to put my trust in Him. I needed so much spiritual support and guidance and I asked God to help me. That’s when I started feeling a huge pull towards St Stephen’s Church every time I passed it by. Like a magnet I was being drawn in. I was very nervous walking into St Stephen’s in July 2014, thinking all church-goers were brainwashed or deficient. I soon changed my mind when cheerfully greeted by a minister called Sandy who listened to me with kindness and understanding. Since then I have had so much support from the church and I have turned my back on my past involvements with the occult. My favourite verse from the bible is Ephesians 6:10-20 “The Whole Armour of God”. Reading this particular passage gives me strength when I feel afraid. I also participated in Soundwell’s ‘Light Course’ – a series of sessions to conduct our own experiment of faith. Working in groups, this course was so rewarding, especially when sharing each other’s stories and journeys. Since inviting Jesus into my life, the burdens that weighed me down for so long disappeared overnight. I am hoping to get baptised in the next couple of months – another reason why I walked into St Stephen back in July. Having faith in God and attending the course has made me feel so differently. I still have ups and downs but in these dark times, thanks to God, I have energy, peace, love, truth and strength. Praise to you, Lord! Carole worships at St Stephen’s Soundwell in Bristol.

/ Contemplate now What first comes to mind when you think about what negativity you experience around and within you? What does this scripture actually mean in practical terms? “Take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.” If you’re a church-goer, how do you think you come across to people who aren’t? If you’re not, what stops you from going to church? / Meditate through the day God knows and loves us more deeply than we know or love ourselves – how do you explore that reality?

Faithfulness But God was not finished with me; he sent a man called Paul to be His physical, supportive presence with me. So where do I begin to tell the story of my faith? I don’t remember a time when I didn’t go to church, even at the age of 12 I felt called by God. To do what? I didn’t know and it took me until 25 before I got my head around the right way, stopped ignoring God and started training to be what was then called a ‘deaconess’. Circumstances intervened and I became a Reader instead – a calling I have followed confident in the knowledge that God was holding me in His hands. In the 1990s I started experiencing problems with arthritis in the right knee and lower back that was the result of an accident 20 years earlier and I had to start using a stick. The hospital said that, due to problems with my bone structure, they would not be able to replace the knee and could do nothing about the spine, and within a few years I would finally have to use a wheelchair. I carried on with my calling until about 1997, when I could still use a stick to walk around the house or in my office, but had to use a wheelchair when outside or walking any distance. By 1999 I had to use the wheelchair permanently as my back and knee became too painful to put weight on. The arthritis has got steadily worse and over the years the broken back and also the broken neck that I suffered 40 years earlier has led to a form of severe arthritis called cervical spondylitis with myelopathy. In 2007 increasing problems with health, redundancy, unexpected loss of my mother, and having to move to sheltered accommodation, as I could not use a wheelchair in the house, I went through a period of depression when I thought God had abandoned me, and took a three-month sabbatical that extended to 12 months. But God was not finished with me; he sent a man called Paul to be His physical, supportive presence with me. It took me nine months to realise that this was God still working out his purpose in my life. A further nine months later, realising we loved each other, we decided to get married. We bought a house that we could adapt for my wheelchair and were married in 2010 in Paul’s church of St Philip’s, Upper Stratton. With the support of my husband, I have continued to serve my ministry. For one of our wedding hymns we chose “Great is thy faithfulness” as we both feel that, no matter what, God is great and always faithful. Jackie Leckie has lived, worshipped and been active in the parish of Parks and Walcot since 1956, and was licensed as Lay Minister in Malmesbury Abbey in 1987.

/ Contemplate now Despite it all, what are you really grateful for? In the face of something that’s getting worse and worse, how do we think of God’s faithfulness? To what end does the faithfulness of others in serving God inspire you? / Meditate today We might get to a point in life where we feel like God’s abandoned us but this is before we realise that God does step in.

An eye-opener For a fleeting instant I had a feeling of warmth, peace, welcome and belonging. It was so brief that afterwards I wasn’t sure I had actually felt it, so I soon dismissed it from my mind, assuming I’d imagined it. My wife Wendy joined our local church, St Mary’s. For the first year she went there, I didn’t attend with her but, because she has poor mobility, I would take her to the church and collect her again after the service. I was always surprised at the welcome I received when I dropped off or picked up Wendy, and how friendly everyone was to me. In the spring of 2006, probably around Easter time, I took Wendy to church as usual but before I left, she started to feel unwell. She said that she didn’t want to go home but neither did she want to stay there on her own, so for the first time as an adult since our wedding I stayed and joined the service with her. One of the church’s lay ministers was preaching that morning on a Bible passage from the book of Romans. The reading was quite long, but a short passage struck a particular chord with me: “For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: prophecy, in proportion to faith; ministry, in ministering; the teacher, in teaching; the exhorter, in exhortation; the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence; the compassionate, in cheerfulness.” I don’t remember where I had first that passage but, like most of the other Bible passages I’d heard, it hadn’t make much sense to me and I’d almost forgotten it. But the preaching on that reading unexpectedly made sense to me. By coincidence, or so I assumed at the time, I had been attending a management and team building course at work, comparing a business team to the parts of the body, where each part had a role to play and no single part could accomplish very much on its own. I realised how relevant the Bible still is to us today. After that little eye-opener, I continued to go to church each Sunday with Wendy. Some weeks I’d learn a little bit more, or understand some other passage and some weeks I didn’t but I started to see how other parts of the Bible too are relevant to modern day life. One Sunday, when communion was being distributed, I went up to receive a blessing. Until this Sunday, although I had been taking Wendy up to the altar to be blessed, I had not accepted one myself. I would stand back until after

Wendy received hers then take her back to our seats. This time I didn’t stand back but knelt beside Wendy and kept my hands lowered, so that the Vicar would know only to give me a blessing, not Holy Communion. As Viv, the Vicar, stretched her hand out over me and said the blessing, for a fleeting instant I had a feeling of warmth, peace, welcome and belonging. It was so brief that afterwards I wasn’t sure I had actually felt it, so I soon dismissed it from my mind, assuming I’d imagined it. It was nearly six months later when next I went up to receive another blessing. During that time, Wendy had been confirmed and I’d continued to attend church throughout this period, sometimes picking up new snippets of knowledge and understanding new bits here and there, but still when it was time for communion I would take Wendy up to receive the sacraments but I would stand back. Then, at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve 2006 I took Wendy up to receive Communion and I knelt beside her to receive the blessing. It was a spur of the moment decision that just felt like the right thing at the time. Like last time, I got that feeling of peace and welcome and belonging, again only for the merest instant of time, but this time I was sure of it. I believe I was being offered a welcome by God into His family. Jim and Wendy attend St Mary’s Church, Yate / Contemplate now What do you think about how the God the Holy Spirit works through sacraments and prayers? What do you think about how God the Son makes us a part of Himself on earth and in heaven? What do you think about how God the Father welcomes everyone through the church of His Son? / Meditate today God welcomes us all before we even hear the invitation; God asks us to offer God’s welcome to all.

A tough choice So we ended up sitting in their service, singing songs that were alien to me, a communion service, body and blood – what’s all that about? But he preached a message and the message was that in Christ you can have a new start. I thought, I so badly need a new start but would it wreck all my fun? My father – I don’t know if he was an atheist, he was just hostile to people of faith. I think he thought, “fairy tale”. I didn’t see an awful lot of my mum and dad in the early years of my life. I was brought up by my grandmother largely. I don’t think she went to church on Sundays but she certainly never missed a Mother’s Union meeting, which I think put her in the camp called ‘believers’. I think this reflected in her values more than the way she talked to me. Like everybody else in the North West, my life was oriented toward becoming a professional footballer. I wasn’t a bad player, I just wasn’t good enough. I had no level of inner resources to deal with that discomfort. Alongside that, because I felt my parents had ignored me, I grew into adolescent youth; angry, and my life got tied up with all kinds of stuff I don’t feel proud of now; abusive attitudes to women, excessive alcohol… I liked to fight in and outside of the ring. I was becoming unhappy with that but I think the driving thing was, “What’s inside me?” And then I got conned into going on what I thought was a drinking weekend in Yorkshire. It turned out to be a visit to a Christian community who ran a conference centre. My friend had booked the wrong weekend and we turned up at some Methodist church’s weekend away and that gave me the chance to mix with some Christians at the community who talked to me about this bloke Jesus, and I thought, “I’ve never really thought about that.” And then we were having Sunday lunch when the Methodist minister asked if we wanted to come to their closing service and before I could say, “No!” my friend leaped up and said, “Yeah, we’d love to.” So we ended up sitting in their service, singing songs that were alien to me, a communion service, body and blood – what’s all that about? But he preached a message and the message was that in Christ you can have a new start. I thought, I so badly need a new start but would it wreck all my fun? At the end of it he said, “If you want to give your life to Christ, I’m going to invite you to stand up now.”

And the next minute I’m standing up. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing and I was taken off and this guy prayed with me and in those days you filled in a little ‘commitment card’ and then he said I needed to find a church. He said, if you don’t, the spark of faith that God has ignited in you will be extinguished. So that was the start of a long journey. I sometimes think the only reason I ever ended up getting ordained was complete arrogance. I used to sit in church thinking even I could do better than this. The sermons were terrible, didn’t seem to have anything to do with the lives of everybody sitting there listening. I was thinking, this is the best thing that has ever happened to me but these people look like they’re waiting for a bus! I could have given up any time in the first five years – all the temptations in front of me – but there were a few wise people who I got to know. My mother had this elderly friend called Grace who told me she’d prayed for me every day of her life since my mother had told her about my behaviour. And I thought this was love of another kind; I’d never come across this. I realised that this was something I wanted to give my life to share with others. I want people to judge me on who I am, not what I am. That’s about what Christ is doing in me. All I can say is that becoming a Christian is the best thing I ever did. But it was a tough choice. My faith doesn’t make me feel happy every day. I feel stuff like everybody else feels stuff. I know that God can change people, and people’s lives and people’s situations. It’s just – will we give Him a flicker of a chance on that? To me it’s a complete mystery. I cannot believe that somebody who was as messed up and mixed up as I was could have been saved from the consequences of my own destructive behaviour. Even though I’m a man of faith, I find it hard to believe! Mike Hill is the Bishop of Bristol This testimony was first broadcast as a ‘Pathway to Faith’ interview on BBC Radio Bristol in 2014. / Contemplate now What’s a fairy tale, what’s a mystery, and what is truth? What sort of new start do you look for? How did you first hear of Jesus? / Meditate today Look for things that could change in some way – ask God and ask yourself to make it happen.

The spark I resigned from my job which was making me thoroughly unhappy. I had nothing lined up but I knew I had to take a leap of faith. People thought I was reckless, but when I answered with my ‘leap of faith’ explanation I knew in my heart it was the right decision. Until recently I was an agnostic with a phobia of churches, with very little knowledge or background in anything Christian apart from Christmas and Easter. Today, after what I now realise to be a series of gentle nudges and larger pushes from God, I’m proud to say that I’m a Christian. I know that my journey began as a result of a comment to me from a work colleague. She was a strong Christian who always spoke of her faith with great honesty and conviction, was always patient and kind, and always gave willingly to help others. At a time when I was struggling with some personal and work issues, she listened; never judged but gave me strength and guidance. She said to me that one day I would make a good Christian. I laughed, said that it sounded really good in theory, but there was a problem in the fact that I disliked church buildings – they always made me feel uncomfortable and unworthy. Those words sparked something inside of me, a nagging curiosity and a feeling that there was a reason she was such a good person. I did nothing with the spark; just let myself think about things. If I needed a big sign from God then He gave it to me in the summer of 2013. I was having a bad day emotionally. I was driving so I pulled over to compose myself, and just broke down. As I sat in the car, a priest in a dog-collar walked towards me. I let him pass but then knew immediately I needed to speak to him so called out, probably making no sense whatsoever through my tears. He asked what was wrong; he listened, he prayed for me and explained that God is about love and forgiveness. After that day I knew that I needed to do something but again didn’t take any action, just kept thinking. My next big step came in February 2014: I resigned from my job which was making me thoroughly unhappy. I had nothing lined up but I knew I had to take a leap of faith. People thought I was reckless, but when I answered with my ‘leap of faith’ explanation I knew in my heart it was the right decision. I soon got a job, and realised then God was looking after me. Last summer I finally made it through the doors of a church. I’d walked through the grounds so many times, but what made me want to go was

seeing the vicar, looking normal with his dog and guitar, sat enjoying afternoon tea at a church event. From that first service, I knew I had found what I’d been searching for; God, his unconditional love and forgiveness, and a sense of belonging and peace. I’m a regular now. I’m growing in my faith, finding strength in prayer, learning every day through Alpha, house group and my Christian friends. I’m striving to live as God wants me to, learn more about Jesus and his amazing sacrifice. I can’t explain the hows and whys of believing in Jesus and God. I just know that by following my heart as I have done over the last three years it has led me to where I am now. God holds my heart, so now I follow him. I also understand my friend who lit the spark with this verse: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” Nicola is a member of St Paul’s Church in Bedminster, Bristol / Contemplate now How much a part of your faith is trust? How much do you let God lead you from your comfort zone? How do you make time for God to give you comfort? / Meditate today The spark of God’s love, living in each one, is for sharing.

The reality of Jesus Christ A new heart was given to me and have been following Jesus ever since. That does not mean I am always happy, but day to day I know a joy that no suffering or circumstance can take away. I happened to walk into a church one sunny September morning and heard a man called Steve Wookey preaching. That one service changed my life as I heard the Gospel explained clearly. I understood for the first time the reality of Jesus Christ. What I had learnt at Sunday School as a child suddenly made sense. This God of adventures in Bible stories, this Jesus of the Gospel accounts were real enough for me to know right now in my life. Steve gave me a prayer to say, which I prayed that night and I woke feeling new, feeling somehow that I was loved by God in a way I had never understood before. I felt all the bad things go out of me, especially a sense of rejection I had known since being sent to boarding school as a 10-year-old. A new heart was given to me and have been following Jesus ever since. That does not mean I am always happy, but day to day I know a joy that no suffering or circumstance can take away. I grew in my confidence at work, while at church I was given the job of teaching in Sunday school. One of my greatest encouragements today is tutoring students on an Exploring Christianity course. It’s so good to see people growing in their understanding of God. At Pentecost last year, here in the church I serve, the message I heard again lifted my heart. Steve Hutchinson, a Scripture Union Evangelist, came and preached and sung at a family service and that re-ignited in me a passion to share the Good News of Christ. I was reminded of truths I first learned as a young adult Christian: that God not only loves us but wants to fill us with power to serve him. Revd Tudor Roberts is the vicar at Lydiard Millicent near Swindon / Contemplate now What power does God give us to be more confident in Him? What helps you understand more of God? In what ways can stories reveal the truth? / Meditate today Look for signs of joy (in people and the world) which is beyond being happy or sad.

Changing priorities I now realise that real faith is a transformation – I now look at everything in a different way. I have always had some faith but I didn’t used to really understand what that meant. I occasionally attended church but always felt a bit out of place and a bit of a fraud. In 2013 I attended an Alpha course and this changed everything. I met loads of like minded people who will be friends for life. I now realise that real faith is a transformation – I now look at everything in a different way. My priorities have changed – I’m less materialistic, and now I know that I don’t have to try to be in control of everything…that’s God’s job! Jim goes to Malmesbury Abbey / Contemplate now What can you let go of to allow God to be in control? God’s will unfolds in God’s own way. Is this something you feel able to trust in? Think about priorities – how can faith transform them? / Meditate today God’s nature is to always reveal and renew.

Taking refuge under His wings Some six years on from diagnosis, the pathology results suggest the cancers are still there, but to me – and I am not in some false denial – they have just become numbers. I set my heart on becoming a doctor at the age of 12 years. I missed a lot of the grounding school work through ill health so was dealt a crushing blow when exploring my options with the Careers Master who told me to choose something I was ‘capable of doing’ rather than medicine. Steely determination won through, and I made it through medical school, but at the price of a great deal of stress and anxiety – and unawareness that God’s hand was on my life. At the age of 30, I had a profound ‘Road to Damascus’ type of conversion and now I realise how different all those years of medical school, training and early work as a GP might have been. But in spite of my faith, negative words spoken over me still shaped my behaviour of insecurity. In 2009, I was diagnosed with two co-existing cancers – an uncommon form of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and aggressive prostate cancer. The oncologist projected a survival time of two to five years. More ‘negative words’. There were two near misses, firstly with severe haemorrhaging after surgery resulting in further trips to the operating theatre and an induced coma in ITU in Bristol. Then, four days after getting home, I suffered a medical collapse in the A&E in Swindon due to sepsis and spent an uncomfortable night tilted head down as the medics attempted to maintain an adequate blood supply to my brain. Perhaps my friends would say those attempts failed! Feeling the life ebbing out of me and only too aware of the precarious circulatory observations, I had an incredible sense of peace and awareness of God’s presence. On medical retirement I was labelled as “unable to offer regular and effective service.” Hardly the most encouraging end to a career of just under 40 years. Gradually the fight and strength started to return and I managed my first evening Christian meeting. A visiting lady with a trusted ministry in prophecy looked at me and said, “You are not going to die. God’s still got work for you to do. But this time, it will come from the inside out – what God is going to put in you.” What more encouragement could I need? I am so grateful for all the prayer I have had over the years. I have been

especially prone to recurrent chest infections and the enemy delights in encouraging doubts to creep in. I am so grateful too for precious verses of scripture. During many nights I have discovered in a real way what the Psalmist meant to take refuge under His wings (Psalm 91). And Proverbs 3 really did take on a new and deep meaning as I learnt to trust in my Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own (medical!) understanding. Some six years on from diagnosis, the pathology results suggest the cancers are still there, but to me – and I am not in some false denial – they have just become numbers. And I believe it is only God who will tell me when my number is up. Our parish verse for 2015 is Isaiah 40:31: “But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.” There have been so many times in recent years when I have waited with patient expectation and the Lord has renewed my strength. I am so encouraged by the signs of spiritual re-awakening I see in my adopted town of Swindon and this is such an exciting journey to be on. Martin worships at Christ Church in Swindon / Contemplate now In what way would you want your strength renewed? Pray for this now. Spend a moment remembering or imagining the peace of God’s presence. In what ways could God re-awaken your community? / Meditate today Be conscious of words you come across today; their power to shape insecurity and their power to affirm life.

God’s outstretched hand I realise now that not everyone has to go through a marriage breakdown like me to come to know God – but I do know that if you truly turn to Him, He will be there for you. I’d like to think that the hand of God was on me from the beginning. I was born two months premature, weighing only three pounds, and my father could hold me in the palm of his hand! My survival was quite something then – technology not being what it was today. Being the last of five children I had an idyllic childhood with doting brothers and sisters. We were bought up C of E and I got confirmed at about the time I went to secondary school. All I can remember was my mother made me a white crimpolene smocked dress and I wore white platform-soled pull-up plastic boots. (This was the late 60s, early 70s.) The Bishop seemed very scary in his mitre and staff. I met my boyfriend when I was just 16; we were engaged at 18 and married when I was 20. In those years, like most newly weds, I only occasionally went to church because I was busy working, keeping house and socialising. When we moved to rural Wiltshire though, I joined lots of village committees. I had my daughter Emily, followed two years later by a son John. From the outside you could say I had the perfect marriage but underneath it was falling apart and soon after, sadly, it ended. One day, I was so desperate I went to marriage guidance counselling with Relate to get help. I had the address and went to the office door but it was firmly closed. On the way back to the car, with one child as a toddler and another in the pushchair, I called out in my heart and said, “God if you are there, I am really sorry my marriage is a mess but I need your help.” From that moment on things transformed. I found an inner strength and people came to help me – especially the Church. My vicar said it was a transfiguration! I knew then that God loved me and a Christian friend took me under her wing. I went to her church and when I saw the stained glass window with Christ on the cross I knew He had died for me and I couldn’t stop crying. I realise now that not everyone has to go through a marriage breakdown like me to come to know God – but I do know that if you truly turn to Him, He will be there for you. Now I try to live my life and put things in prayer – family, business, the Church. Sometimes I get answers I didn’t expect. I hope God will continue to have his hand on my life as well as yours – but

remember you need to invite Him in. Pam goes to St Margaret’s in Yatton Keynell, Wiltshire / Contemplate now Are there things you haven’t ever prayed about? Is it easy to blame yourself? How do you make sense of trusting God when things are going wrong? / Meditate today Letting God guide means holding God’s hand

The big pang theory Life was good to me… well, until I turned 15. I left home and started this journey of discovery, trying to find the true meaning of our existence. I was born in the 60s and maybe it was something to do with the time – did the people that spoke of peace, brotherly love and love for all know what life was about? Was God part of it? The ‘Big Pang theory’ – something you can just understand if you are allowed to feel it! The gratefulness, the awe about another eventful day, a beautiful scene or the moment when you know somebody ‘clicked’ when you spoke to them. The day you feel this warmth washing over you, the questions stop and you just are. That is the moment when you understand that there is nothing you can do wrong if you listen to your heart and you act out of love. Everything is just as it is supposed to be. We all know that this moment exists deep down inside ourselves. We know because we come from that feeling and we want to go back to that feeling. Why do we fight it, why do we doubt? I was raised in a strict Catholic family and as a child I used to accompany my grandma and great aunts on pilgrimages. I was never bored – I loved people and I loved watching them. I also loved the calm of the church buildings, the beautiful voices of the choristers and how the same Bible passage could be interpreted in so many different ways. Some of my uncles were priests and some aunts were nuns. Life was good to me… well, until I turned 15. I left home and started this journey of discovery, trying to find the true meaning of our existence. I was born in the 60s and maybe it was something to do with the time – did the people that spoke of peace, brotherly love and love for all know what life was about? Was God part of it? I searched and I questioned, I stopped going to church regularly, but looking back I never stopped believing – I knew God was with me all the time. But did I let God steer? A marriage, a long-term relationship and five children later, and I was still searching. What was I searching for? Was it actually just the fear of my mortality or the fear of failure, more than actually the desire of finding the meaning of life? Well, I searched in all sorts of places, from horoscopes to clairvoyance, meditation to magic. Again and again I made the discovery that the principle was mostly the same

– everyone on the search with me just wanted to be loved. And, as in most groups, you find very dedicated people who truly believe they have found the right path, which I found very impressive and I hoped one day I would be one of those people. I also met many people of different denominations who thought they were the ones that had made the right choice. No doubt there were many lovely people but something still felt not quite right. I was pregnant with my fourth child when I started going more regularly to church again. This time it was the Church of England and slowly its members became my family, the family that I was missing because I originally came to England from Germany. My faith was challenged many times, which made me more determined. I read the Bible from cover to cover and I became a street pastor. Still I was searching for something… Until one day, I had this pang in my chest – a feeling like as if you’d just fallen in love. I had this feeling many times before but I thought it was my own merit, that I had done something well and was proud of my own achievement that let me feel this beautiful pang in my chest. This time it was different: I was walking to the car, not doing anything spectacular, and I knew God just put something in place, God had shown me something beautiful. What was I doing all those years? Why had it taken this long? Why now? God’s timing is impeccable – I guess I was finally ready to understand. My relationship with God changed again and this time it went from, “Lord, I don’t know how I am going to do this” to “Lord, I can’t wait to see how you are going to do this.” I had learned to hand it over to God and let him steer, and that was the moment the ‘Big Pang’ happened. Martina goes to St John’s Church in the parish of Parks & Walcot, Swindon / Contemplate now Everyone wants to be loved – does love have an end? Does the search for love lead to obvious places? Are you waiting to understand anything? / Meditate today God’s steers us to love; then we can steer from love.

Swimming in deep mystery For me, faith is all about asking questions. It’s not a kind of house you build and then you move in and there are the walls and the door and it all feels safe. It’s much more like swimming and not knowing where the bottom is…it’s constantly mysterious and deep and quite exciting. I didn’t grow up in a family of faith – my mother had a very lively faith until her teens and then her own mother died and I think that was a crisis for her. So I grew up in a household of lawyers – a household of affection and argument but no faith. Sunday lunchtime was like a courtroom really. My father was above all a man of principle – that’s what really mattered. You had to have good reasons for everything and behind everything there were some deeply held principles. So I got quite interested in why you might have principles and how you might know some things are true and some things are not. It started at school when I was about 14 or 15 – we had to write an essay about the claims of the Christian faith and I wrote such a brilliant dismissal of the Christian faith, I was so really, really proud of this. So I handed it in and the very canny teacher gave it back to me a week later and there was no mark at all. He just wrote on the bottom of the essay, “Don’t write about things you don’t know about”. I remember thinking, “You muppet – I’ll show you!” So I took myself off to church and look what happened! This is where churches really matter. I tipped up into a parish church where there just happened to be a completely inspiring curate and a really lively youth group. The whole business of talking about faith and relationships all became inseparable for me and in fact the woman I married was in that church youth group. It’s a very complicated story but it’s something to do with suddenly coming home, I suppose. Quite soon I started thinking seriously about ordination – when I was only 18 or 19 – it took about another 10 years before I was ordained. There were some quite dramatic ups and downs, working out what you are called to do, sorting out whether you’ve got the courage to do some of those things, the competence – those were quite hard questions for me. There were some very bad moments in all of that but I was finally ordained when I was about 27. I was suffering for a long time with the idea that you get ordained because you’re going to be good at it and really we all need protecting from those clergy – they can do an awful lot of damage – the sort of people who want to put you right! One of the great failings of the clergy is to get in the way all the time. I think the job of the clergy largely is to get out of the way so that people

can stand in the presence of God. We all come to faith in slightly different ways and we all exercise our faith in different ways. It is really important to know that we’re not supposed to come up with the same answers and feel the same way all the time. God makes us for very good reasons as individuals and each of us is to find our own way. We’re all called into full humanity but we all do that rather differently. For me, faith is all about asking questions. It’s not a kind of house you build and then you move in and there are the walls and the door and it all feels safe. For me faith is much more like swimming and not knowing where the bottom is. That’s one of the things I love about it – it’s constantly mysterious and deep and quite exciting. This is a very particular Lent for me – my father died very recently and I’ve been thinking quite hard about some quite intimate domestic things. I’m only just stepping back into my duties at the Cathedral and coming to terms with the fact that I left when it wasn’t Lent and returned when it is. There’s been a great feeling of being sustained by the Cathedral and gratitude in all that. For me this Lent is going to be quite a sustained period of preparation for dealing with the whole business of how you celebrate Christ’s risen life at Easter. That’s going to be a big ask this time. The Very Revd Dr David Hoyle is Dean of Bristol This was adapted from a live BBC interview which can be heard online here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02l6dtz. / Contemplate now What does it mean to you that Christ descended to the dead? Faith, religion, church – how can these be seen as mysterious? Do you feel God equips you for the challenges faith gives? Does faith challenge you? Ask for both challenge and strength. / Meditate through the day We have a certain promise in Christ; and we do not know what tomorrow will bring.

A loyal and trusted friend Because of some past experiences I always felt guilty and not a very good person although I tried hard to be nice and please people. But God knew what I needed was encouragement, love and acceptance. Back in the 1950s most children went to Sunday school. No doubt parents were keen to have some peace and quiet so, like the rest of my contemporaries, I was duly sent along on a Sunday afternoon. Although I loved hearing the Bible stories and reading my Enid Blyton Bible story book I am not sure exactly what I believed back then. It was some 20 years later that I came to know Jesus as my Lord and Saviour. Looking back, it seems incredible that I could sing the hymns and carols, sit through junior school assemblies and Sunday school lessons and still not understand the message of the Gospel. One morning when I was in my 20s, I overheard my sister-in-law Jean talking to her friend about a young, 16-year-old boy called Vincent, who had contracted meningitis which left him blind and severely disabled. I heard Jean tell her friend how Vincent had become a Christian; that he would rather be blind and have his spiritual sight than have his physical sight and not know the Lord. I later came to know him and he certainly was an incredible Christian witness, but at the time I thought, “How ridiculous!” Jean and her friend were talking about ‘the Lord’ as if they were talking about a person they knew intimately. I was beginning to see that their faith was more than following a set of rules or an insurance policy for when they died. I always found getting to sleep at night difficult. My husband was working nights and in the quiet stillness when the lights had been turned out I would lie in bed filled with worry and fear. I longed for sleep but knew that I would be plagued with nightmares. That night I started getting anxious as usual but then I started to find myself thinking about the conversation that I had overheard. I could not understand how Vincent could possibly feel the way that he did. I was confused; I did not want to live but I had a very deep fear of dying and just not existing anymore, or maybe just floating around in darkness. I clearly remember thinking, “I want to have the same faith that this Vincent has.” Then I started thinking about the Bible verses I had read that afternoon. The words “seek and ye shall find” came to mind and then another part of the verse, “ask and ye shall be given”. “I need to have Vincent’s faith,” I silently uttered as a prayer.

Looking back I can only describe what happened next as God drawing near to me, the Holy Spirit speaking to me and Jesus coming into my life. The words came to me as if someone was speaking to me in my mind: “It isn’t Vincent’s faith you need, but Jesus.” I didn’t really understand this at the time but now I realise that everyone’s faith is unique to them and God wanted mine to be rooted in a personal relationship with Christ rather than that of another person. Being honest I can’t say that I ever prayed any deep prayer of repentance or made any major life style changes but often some little negative thought or attitude would come to mind about which I felt uncomfortable and I would ask God to forgive me. It just seemed that my consciousness was heightened. Because of some past experiences I always felt guilty and not a very good person, although I tried hard to be nice and please people. But God knew what I needed was encouragement, love and acceptance and I would meditate on verses like, “There is therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” My problems didn’t suddenly vanish and life wasn’t all rosy but now that I was praying and trusting Jesus, situations and events that I would have once called coincidences were happening with a greater frequency. I felt He was with me, shielding me, holding me and guiding me and I know it may sound strange but colours all seemed brighter – the sky looked bluer, the grass greener and the autumn leaves redder. Things were set to change but thankfully my faith was not to waver. Angela Richens worships at St Andrew’s Church in Swindon / Contemplate now What change have you seen which has contrasted for you with Christ’s eternal loyalty? How personally do you feel Jesus Christ knows you? Does this match with how well you feel you know Him? Acceptance and encouragement nourish us all – pray for them, for you and for others you know. / Meditate through the day God can guide us through a storm or be the anchor that holds us firm.

The deep joy of knowing Him My prayers of despair to God included a complaint that if this was the job He wanted me to do, then perhaps he could have prepared me better. My wife and I have been Christians since the age of 16. We were both brought up in loving but non-church going families. We were sent to Sunday school up until the age of 11 but it wasn’t until we started to attend St Gabriel’s in Easton that we discovered what it meant to be followers of Jesus. We both gave our lives to the Lord on the same night after a Billy Graham film called The Shadow of the Boomerang. This decision meant that from that day I vowed to allow Jesus to be the Lord of everything – who to marry, which career to follow, where to live, along with all of the everyday decisions. There have been many good and wonderful times as well as darkness and difficulties. I retired in 2007 with some ideas in mind as to how to be useful to God with the extra time He was giving me. This was seemingly going well until my life was turned upside down. In January 2012 my wife of 40 plus years was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. A real shock as she was only 64. I did not see myself as a full-time carer; it is not a natural gift of mine. I had throughout my Christian life been an activist and all this would have to stop as I was about to become a 24/7 carer. My prayers of despair to God included a complaint that if this was the job He wanted me to do, then perhaps he could have prepared me better. One day whilst praying in this fashion He showed me something about His omniscience. He said that He knew that Myra would get this disease way back before we were married and He actually chose me to look after His daughter when she fell ill. This humbling revelation stopped my complaint and left me in awe of Him. I now know and have experienced His grace in the most amazing of ways. He has given me patience beyond my natural ability; wisdom to deal with unexpected problems and the ability to bite my tongue when wrongly accused by my beloved of doing something wrong. All I can say is that the Lord has come to us in our distress through the deep joy of knowing Him; through the love of our family and the compassion of our Christian brothers and sisters. I don’t know what the future holds. But I know it is in His hands and that one

day I will get my wife back, that I will one day be able to hold a conversation with her once more. This is our hope and this is surely the Good News about which we so often speak. Martin Brown goes to Christ Church Downend / Contemplate now In time spent in prayer, God’s nature is revealed and we can learn about our own lives. When the future is unknown, how does hope guide you? Is there strength you can ask for to help with the unexpected – perhaps for something that happened recently or a long time ago? / Meditate today The hope we’re given is beyond life and death.

Rocking the boat Why would I want to rock the boat? Why would I want to change things now? Why, when everything seemed to be going so well, would I possibly want to consider becoming ordained? It’s been a long road to travel, and I won’t lie, at times it’s been really hard going. The journey to the wonderful world of vicardom is not a particularly quick or easy one. I should know – I’ve been on it for about three years already, and I figure I’ve got another few years ahead of me before I’m fully cassocked-up: first as a curate (a sort of apprentice priest), then as a priest in my own right with responsibly for ‘the cure of souls’ in my parish. Quite a responsibility, hey? They call it ‘hearing the call’, and for me, that’s language I can relate to. The time between first hearing the call and doing something about it was relatively long. I began my journey whilst I was living and working in Cambridge. I had, at the time, a number of friends who were studying to become vicars at one of the ordination colleges in the same city. Every time that I would speak with them, their words resonated loudly in my head. Their stories and desires, their hopes and dreams, these were ones with which I could easily relate, and which seemed to overlap with my own life. Something was being birthed in me – a passion and excitement at the possibility that my life may take a similar course. Yet for the time being, I did nothing about it. Circumstances changed, I changed, yet the call was still the same. The unavoidable message being voiced through new conversations and new friendships, was still there: “You’d make a great vicar”, “Have you thought about the possibility of getting ordained?” I had… of course I had. Yet life seemed like it was presenting a different route to me now. I was excelling in a new occupation, thriving in a new location, loving in a new relationship, and I was happier than I had been for a long time. Why would I want to rock the boat? Why would I want to change things now? Why, when everything seemed to be going so well, would I possibly want to consider becoming ordained? Yet the call was too strong for me to avoid. I knew that I had to do something about it. So I did. I made contact with the appropriate people, and I began meeting with them at regular intervals. For the past three years these people have stood by me, challenged me, advised me, prayed for and prayed with me. I have laughed and cried. I have known times of happiness, and sadness. I have thought long and hard about the route my life has taken up to this point,

and route that it may take in the future. I have learnt a lot about myself, the church, this world, and those who live in it. You see, I’ve come to realize that it’s not about me, it’s about God. It’s about travelling in the direction He wants me to go. It’s about being in the place He wants me to be and doing the things He wants me to do. It’s about responding to His call. For me, I believe this is a call to ordination. So this isn’t about my story… well, it is but it’s really about me playing my part in His. Joel Mennie is currently training as an ordinand at Trinity College, Bristol / Contemplate now It can take a long time to realise something, even though we sort of know it already. Pray for a mind to discern. Is there a boat you think might need rocking? Ask God the Holy Spirit to move the waters. What have you already been working on for years? Ask for encouragement to stick with it. / Meditate through the day God calls every single thing to its fullest life.

A place of belonging The sharing of experiences and learning about other people’s stories has helped me and, I hope, others too. My journey to rediscover my faith started just under two years ago after the unexpected loss of my youngest son. I was lost and not sure where to turn. I decided to attend my parish church, hoping to find answers. As one of my mentors pointed out – was this my own conscious decision or was it made for me? Looking back, I believe God was the one who brought me back to church, to a place where I could feel secure enough to learn more about my Christian faith. I attended a ‘Light Course’ at the church and am now part of a home group. The sharing of experiences and learning about other people’s stories has helped me and, I hope, others too. I am quite a private person but feel able to open up in this small group. Being part of a church community gives a sense of belonging and never being alone. When I’m in church, I personally feel not only closer to God but also to my son. It’s a place where God is present and I am sure He is looking after my son for me. As my faith grows stronger I hope to feel this closeness at all times, not only in church. Later this year I hope to be confirmed. I feel this will enhance my sense of becoming a stronger Christian and will enable me to take Communion. Lorraine worships at St Stephen’s Soundwell / Contemplate now How does church community reflect the community of the Trinity – the love between the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit? How have you been drawn to church in the past; whether your own choice or someone else’s? The church exists now and forever as a community of people, past and present, who are united by the Holy Spirit. Take a moment to imagine yourself gathered in this way. / Meditate through the day Mothering Sunday is at the end of this week. St Paul wrote, “Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother.”

Safe in the arms of Jesus I could not have got through the following six months without that support of prayer and the support of the church family. Many years ago, in an attempt to protect a friend and her children, I was stalked and attacked on several occasions. This included many malicious phone calls, being followed to and from work, having my home broken into and being attacked. I have been stabbed, hit, had ribs broken, was hit by a car and was threatened a number of times. I coped and survived, and prevented the man getting to his ex-wife and children. They are all happily grown up now and safe. Just a few years ago, there was a small incident in my new home when a drunk man wandered through my back garden at night. I panicked and had quite an alarming response to the situation, followed by a downward spiral of post-traumatic stress symptoms. I made a conscious decision to get help from both a Christian counselling service and my local church, of which I was already an active member. Prayer was central. I could not have got through the following six months without that support of prayer and the support of the church family. My prayers were always answered; someone was always there when I needed them. The strength of my family and friends was amazing. God sent them. I still need support sometimes, but it is always to Christ I turn first. Always safe in the arms of Jesus. / Contemplate now Why does the church offer support? What kind of support does your church offer? Who can you support now in prayer? / Meditate through the day Christ is with each of us in safety and in danger.

An opened door And I thought, What am I waiting for? This is the opportunity I want, this is the way to step forward. I was born in the fifties when everyone always went to Sunday school but my journey into faith began in about 1989 when the good Lord God in his infinite wisdom decided to give me a friend. Until then I had no feeling of faith in my life, it was never mentioned in my home life. I stayed away from it because I found the whole idea quite frightening, that there would be this person – this huge body of something – that knew all about me. At the time that was frightening because I probably wasn’t the nicest person in the world. My friend’s name is Sandra Haskins and she and her husband have been my friends though good times, bad times, thick and thin, smiles, laughs and lots of tears, but they are still my tears and because of them I’ve come to faith. Because my friends were Christian and I would always introduce them to everybody as “my Christian friends” which was my code for “behave and mind what you say”. They never pushed their faith on me but I always knew it gave them a huge amount of strength. I’d like to say they tricked me but actually they conned me with free food! An Alpha supper is a wonderful thing. They promised me a free meal, as soon as I realised the meal was in the parish hall I thought, “It’s church!” but I went… I thought people were going to judge me. I found myself lacking in an awful lot of things and I realised there were an awful lot of ways I could be a much, much better as a person. I won’t say Alpha was easy – I can be quite argumentative at times, quite strong in my points of view. The first couple of weeks I probably didn’t listen very much but I found I listened more and I got it. For some reason I got it. There’s something about Alpha that draws you in. People listen to you, they understand that you’ve got fears, that this [faith] is not an easy concept to some people. It was during the course we were given a picture – ‘Light of the World’ by William Holman Hunt – and I put it on my front door. God knows I’m a practical person and I like to be poked, like ‘this is what you do’. The picture is of Jesus stood outside a weed-covered door that has no handles – so you have to let him into your life, he doesn’t walk in unasked. I had an electronic doorbell – and this sounds such a silly story even to me – and the doorbell would ring and there would be no-one there and I was getting quite annoyed. And this one night I was sat reading from the Alpha book and thinking about all the things that had been said and the door bell rang and I walked out and I could see through the glass panel that there was no-one there but I felt this huge sense of peace come over me. And I thought, “What

am I waiting for? This is the opportunity I want, this is the way to step forward.” I opened the door and I said, “Sir, if you really want me that much, if you really want to come in, please come into my home.” And He walked into my home that night and He’s never left. The picture is now framed; it hangs by my door and it’s always going to be by my door because that was the step I took to let Him in. It’s a privilege to be part of Christians Against Poverty (CAP). People phone us up in the most awful state but they know that when I walk in their house that I’m a Christian; they know that we’re going to do everything we can to help in a completely non-judgemental way. I love going in and helping people. If they give me a black sack full of unopened envelopes with bills in, I can sort that out. God’s given me the will and the ability and the training to sort that out. We help people. CAP helps people budget, contacts creditors, gives food parcels, Christmas presents, birthday presents… come and see me and I’ll help you. We do such a lot but we only do it because God says we can. I couldn’t do this if I didn’t think his hand was on my shoulder the whole time. It is amazing, the grace He gives us. Psalm 139 was the first time I ever realised God loved me: “O Lord, you have searched me and known me.” Jane White works with Christians Against Poverty and worships at Christ Church Downend. Christians Against Poverty can help you or could use your help. Find out more at www.capuk.org This was adapted from a live BBC interview at Bristol Cathedral, which can be heard online here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02ljf34. / Contemplate now Imagine you’ve just found out God knows everything about you and loves you. What doors are there that maybe you keep shut? Are there doors you might be called to knock? / Meditate through the day The life of the Church – the Body of Christ – is both spiritual and physical.

A mid-life crisis? It was a confusing time. It’s a big decision, it changes one’s life completely. It’s a sacrificial calling; I knew that it was my calling but my family would be the ones to make the sacrifice. I think we were what would be called “nominal” Christians – my parents are both believers but not very devout. When I was a child I went to church because I had to go. I was a Brownie and a Guide and I went to a very religious school so I spent a lot of time in chapel which I really resented. When I started to worship at the village church it was because it was the community – we wanted to support it and it was really important to be part of that. This gave me a really good foundation but I did what most people do – and I think it’s quite healthy – I didn’t go near a church for several years as a young adult. I did think something was missing but it wasn’t really very fashionable to have a faith and it just wasn’t part of our life. We went out on Saturday night very late and getting up to go to church didn’t really feature. But I always made a point of going at Christmas and Easter to keep up that link and then – what often happens, I’ve noticed – I had a baby and I went back because I wanted my child to be brought up with those values and to be taught about his faith. So I started to go back to church and it became more significant because I was coming back on my own terms, as an adult, I was choosing to do it, nobody was forcing me. I wanted my son to grow up with a Christian faith, to be taught about it. But then I got drawn in to Sunday school and to leading all sorts of things in the church. We wanted our children to go to a Church school which was oversubscribed so then we had to attend to get them places. At that point my faith was more of a function – I was always busy and didn’t actually have a lot of time to think about it. My sons joined a local church choir which was attached to their primary school and I went along for practical reasons. That church was Anglo Catholic but didn’t believe in the ministry of women so I was able to go for the first time as an adult and not actually have to do anything, just sit in the pew. And I loved that style of worship, it was so different to anything I’d experienced before, I felt it connected with the transcendence of God. It was beautiful, mysterious, symbolic – and that’s when my faith really took off. It was the last thing on my mind to be ordained but I knew there was something in my life that wasn’t being satisfied, something I wasn’t doing that I thought I should be doing. We went through various explorations of what that

might be and at one stage we thought that might be adopting children, we were going to take two little baby girls and then it dawned on me that this wasn’t what I was called to do. It was a confusing time. It’s a big decision, it changes one’s life completely. It’s a sacrificial calling; I knew that it was my calling but my family would be the ones to make the sacrifice. And I knew I would be sacrificing some friends too – this life is all-encompassing because we work at weekends, we work anti-social hours, we can’t enter into the kind of social life that people with normal jobs do and some of my friends just ran out patience really – they invite you to do things and you’re not free. One of my oldest friends too, she doesn’t believe in the ordination of women and that has caused a bit of a rift between us. But then nobody would do it if it didn’t involve a huge amount of joy and satisfaction and new friends, new places to go, new avenues – so perhaps you have to leave behind the old a little bit and take on the new. I started exploring my calling when I was about 40 – I think my mother thought it was a mid-life crisis actually! – and I was ordained at 46. By that time I was completely settled. Any sacrifices I’ve had to make have been well worthwhile and the only regret I have is that I didn’t do it earlier. Revd Nicola Stanley is Canon Precentor of Bristol Cathedral / Contemplate now Do you have a pattern of worship or thought that connects you somehow with the mysteriousness of God? How do you react to the thought of sacrifice? Would you benefit more from being less active in faith and having time to think or from being more involved and less passive? / Meditate through the day What are you waiting for? No, seriously…

Acceptance I have experienced both God’s healing and felt His power in my life. I trust him. Some years ago I developed a bad back. I prayed, tried physio and a chiropractor in vain. A very good friend suggested that I went to Harnhill, a local centre for Christian healing. They prayed with me and I immediately felt the love and concern. I changed my prayer to acceptance. A few months later I had an operation on my back which has been a complete success. Since then I have been a regular visitor to Harnhill, and help there by greeting visitors and serving refreshments after the services. It is a wonderful place and God’s presence is strongly at work. I have experienced both God’s healing and felt His power in my life. I trust him. He is a faithful God. I thank the Lord that my good friend took me to Harnhill, and I continue to pray for others to experience the power of Christian healing. It may be more spiritual than physical, but so important. Val worships at St Mary’s Purton The Harnhill Centre of Christian Healing is near Cirencester – more information online at www.harnhillcentre.org.uk / Contemplate now Is healing through prayer something you feel comfortable talking about? “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” How do you understand this to be true? Think of healing you know is needed – yourself or someone else. Pray for it now. / Meditate through the day Do you think healing comes from without or within? Or both?

A member of the family As most of us find, life has not been easy. Hardship, divorce, loss of loved ones – all proved difficult to cope with and my prayers often contained the question ‘why?’ and tears often accompanied prayers. But my faith was like a crutch, and I never felt far away from a loving God. I was baptised as a baby and brought up in the Church of England. My late mother was a very committed Christian woman. I took confirmation classes as a child, but didn’t feel ready for the commitment. At the age of 15, however, I listened to Billy Graham, the famous American evangelist on television and felt compelled to offer my life to Christ there and then in our living room. This was the first time I realised God loves us as individuals; that each of us is important to him – even me. This led me to evangelical and Baptist churches which I attended in whichever location I found myself in. Feeling led by God to do so, I received adult baptism in a Pentecostal church at the age of 19 and made a public commitment to follow Christ. There are many differences in the style of worship between the denominations, of course, and even between churches within denominations. The Assemblies of God and Elim Pentecostal churches both in the UK and Canada were largely free-form worship… extemporary (unplanned) prayer; not only hymns but many choruses, repeated if anyone started to sing again; lots of congregational involvement encouraged ‘at the front’ via testimonies and soloist singing, perhaps tambourines or guitar playing; even sometimes people speaking in tongues during prayer sessions. The Holy Communion wine and bread was taken in your seats, not at an altar. We waited until all had been served with individual tiny glasses and then took the sacrament together. The last Baptist church I attended was less free-form, but there were similarities, with plenty of congregational involvement again. Longer sermons, as I recall! As most of us find, life has not been easy. Hardship, divorce, loss of loved ones – all proved difficult to cope with and my prayers often contained the question, “Why?” and tears often accompanied prayers. But my faith was like a crutch, and I never felt far away from a loving God. Roll on 30 odd years and now living in a village near Swindon, I found myself with no local evangelical or Baptist church, and very tentatively entered the doors of the local Anglican Church. I was nervous: when to stand, sit, what words to repeat in the liturgy… has anyone else felt like that? I am sure I am not alone!

However, I soldiered on – they needed a treasurer, so I joined the PCC, and then they needed another organist and then some help with organising the house group, and I offered to help. It took me a while to feel at home, but one day I found I was. I recently also agreed to be nominated as churchwarden and was duly elected. I was not expecting that role in my life journey either. I also felt the need to take on more learning, so took the two year ‘Exploring Christianity’ course offered by the Diocese of Bristol. It was very interesting, and spiritually rewarding – I recommend it highly. We shared together passages from the Old and New Testaments. Our study was in itself a form of worship, and we spent some time in prayer together. The deeper we delved into Christianity, the more we studied the Bible, the closer I felt to God and could see His work in the world around me. We came from differing backgrounds and a variety of C of E churches in Swindon. We learned not only from the tutor but from each other and new friendships were formed. I joined new friends for a service at St John’s in Haydon Wick, and still try to visit the church regularly. A second church family! Then I was confirmed in the Anglican ceremony. So why confirmation at my age – 60 years old? I took some persuading! But after all, I had become part of the family and if you do so you need to wish to be a full member of the family. It was another commitment to God, and I was happy to affirm that commitment. It has been a wonderful journey with Christ and I hope and believe it will continue to be. Linda lives and worships in Swindon Information on the Exploring Christianity course can be found at www.bristol.anglican.org/ministry-resources/exploring-ministry/. / Contemplate now Is commitment something that binds us or frees us? Think of one thing you could to strengthen your feeling of church family. Pope Francis says that the Holy Spirit spurs us to experience ‘richness, variety and diversity’ within the Church, without conflict. / Meditate through the day The family of the Church is one where each belongs as much as the other.

Made welcome I had attended the local Congregational Chapel until my my teens and then, like so many young people, gradually drifted away. Work and a busy social life had squeezed out any thoughts of church. It all began with a marriage proposal, where it will end only God knows! When David and I decided to get married we wanted the service to take place at the city centre church in Swansea where my parents had been married. The vicar there was happy to conduct the service, providing I was confirmed first. I had attended the local Congregational Chapel until my my teens and then, like so many young people, gradually drifted away. Work and a busy social life had squeezed out any thoughts of church. I lived at that time in Clifton and my local church was Christ Church. I made enquiries about confirmation and spent six Tuesday evenings having tea with the then curate and his family followed by a one-to-one about different aspects of the Christian faith. I knew I was going through the motions in order to be married. I kept the big questions I was being faced with at arm’s length! We were married, and two children and 15 years later we moved to a little village in Dorset, living next door to the church where we got to know the local priest. He was a lovely, ordinary man facing the same challenges in life we all do and yet his faith sustained him through thick and thin. When I thought about my life compared to his, I came to see that within me a gap existed that I realised only God could fill. I realised too that this journey had begun with the seeds planted during those Confirmation classes by someone who truly welcomed me, despite my unwillingness to really take on board the truths that were shared with me. Five years later I was ordained. My journey has shown me, as a curate and then a vicar and now as archdeacon, that my responsibility to those who come for baptism, marriage or to arrange a funeral, is to welcome them as I was welcomed. To share with them Jesus’ gifts of grace and love and the difference He can make to our lives… and then to leave the rest to Him. The Venerable Christine Froude is Archdeacon of Malmesbury / Contemplate now Spend a moment imagining what a ‘welcome’ from God would look like for

you. Are there questions you keep at arm’s length? Reflect on how encounters with ‘church’, ‘God’ or ‘Christianity’ could have formed a journey for you. / Meditate through the day Welcome God into every conscious thought and welcome others in every interaction.

Making the jump The chance to have a home cooked meal was a great help for making the initial jump, as student food at our flat was as bad as you might think! I am from a non-practising Christian family – Christmas, Christenings, weddings and funerals were as much church as we did. But I have always felt there was a god and that there was a need to know more. And I’ve always had an inherent feeling that there was a right direction for my life. When I went to uni I had an opportunity to go to Alpha. Also the chance to have a home cooked meal was a great help for making the initial jump, as student food at our flat was as bad as you might think! Alpha answered a lot of questions and I started going to a local church. Eight years on I have not looked back. There have been many little changes – life-view, priorities and how I spend my time. There has been a difference in life itself since becoming a practising Christian. If nothing else, just feeling that there is more. I now know what that feeling I had was – and I also feel there is much more that I am yet to see. Dave Bond is a regular church-goer in our diocese Alpha is a popular, no-strings series of group conversations with other people who are curious about Christianity. Find out more at www.alpha.org / Contemplate now What ways of exploring ‘faith’ appeal to you? Could you share them with other people? What does that feeling mean to you – that there is more yet to see? / Meditate today What answers do you find yourself relying on today?

Quietly, bringing peace I have never felt such joy and peace and I know that God was truly in my life and that I was filled with His Spirit. A few years ago I had the most amazing experience. Two people from another church were praying over me that I would be filled with the Holy Spirit and feel it at work in my life. During the prayers I felt an overwhelming feeling of pure joy! I felt as if there were literally a million bubbles waiting to burst out of me like those in a bottle of champagne… I was laughing and grinning like a drunken idiot! Something else happened too. I had been suffering with very sore and chapped skin as it was winter and no amount of hand cream helped. But when the prayers ended I realised that my hands were cool and comfortable and healed. I have never felt such joy and peace and I know that God was truly in my life and that I was filled with His Spirit. I went home with such a massive smile on my face and told my family what had happened. They thought that I was going slightly bonkers! Although I have never since felt the bubbling-over, joyfulness of that experience, I know that the Holy Spirit is at work in my life, presenting itself in different ways according to need. I know that often the Holy Spirit comes quietly, bringing peace and reassurance. And I have grown in my faith, understanding more of the Holy Trinity, knowing and loving the Father, Son and Holy Spirit as individuals and as the One. Sandra Neate worships at St Mary’s Shirehampton / Contemplate now The Holy Spirit lives within each of us, and each of us is a unique temple. Each of the three persons of the Holy Trinity invites us to join them. How do you see the Holy Spirit as ‘The Giver of Life’ in your context? / Meditate today The Spirit is at work all around us and in all things.

The barrel of the spear gun I certainly believe that God is sovereign and knows what’s going to happen and has a plan. But I don’t think I’ve ever really felt strongly “that is a thing I should do or a place I should go.” Yet with hindsight I can really see how God has used past experiences. I grew up in a Christian family, both my parents were teachers, and I went to a fairly lively church with a big youth group. I wouldn’t say there was a time when I suddenly came to know God, I sort of knew he was there really. And there were certainly times that I made choices to follow Him and do what he said. I didn’t really have the experience of drifting away from church, having friends who were keen on following Christ as well… and to be honest a lot of it was very exciting. We would go to festivals and conferences. ‘Spring Harvest’ was one where I made a commitment – and just understanding more about the relationship with Christ. I think life is about relationship and the most important relationship is the relationship we have with Christ. My passion has stayed with me. At some times I’ve felt it more than at others and at times I’ve felt closer to God than at other times. Being abroad as a missionary was exciting but also really challenging for us as a family – we had our first child when we were living in Tanzania. But equally, seeing what God was doing and seeing the church in different cultures, how they express their relationship with Christ and how they ‘do’ worship, was encouraging but also really insightful. I certainly believe that God is sovereign and knows what’s going to happen and has a plan. But I don’t think I’ve ever really felt strongly “that is a thing I should do or a place I should go.” Yet with hindsight I can really see how God has used past experiences. I came to Bristol to study mechanical engineering at university, joined the Ministry of Defence as a project manager buying gadgets and stuff and that was great fun, and then we moved to Tanzania for a couple of years. When we came back, I signed on at the job centre. I saw this job at the Southmead Development Trust and just applied. I didn’t feel a sense of call or anything there but the experience I’d had both as an engineer and then working in development in Africa came together and all those skills have been very useful there. Southmead is a community in the north of Bristol and the Trust exists to serve that community. Southmead has the lowest life expectancy in Bristol but

there’s a real sense of community. We run the Greenwood Centre, the local youth centre, all sorts of community projects, a gym, lots of training courses for jobseekers, some start-up businesses… a whole range of things. I go to a church locally but for me, it’s more about a relationship with Christ than going to church, and this remains central to my life and my family life. I’ve got a spear gun I picked up in Tanzania and now in south Devon and Cornwall I go spear fishing to try and catch a few bass. I’m not very successful but it’s just great getting into the outdoors. Being underwater is just another world like you see on TV: teeming with life, all the different colours and God’s beautiful creation. In order for it to work it needs power; it’s got these elastic cords and for me that’s a bit like God’s love – what gives the power to drive things forward. But without the barrel of the spear gun to direct where the spear goes it wouldn’t hit its target. I think, being a Christian, God’s law, the Bible is that barrel – the Old Testament and the New coming together – it directs what we do, the decisions and choices we make. Alex Kittow is general manager of Southmead Development Trust This was adapted from a live BBC interview at Bristol Cathedral, which can be heard online here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02m3yll. / Contemplate now How is God’s law not just a list of rules for you? The first thing you think of: God’s love making something happen… Now pray for God’s guidance to be in this situation. Can you discern God’s action in how you came to think of or be involved in this situation? / Meditate through the day Going where the spear gun works is the delight – not using it successfully.

Stop, just breathe My world of thought had taken me back to my pressing questions of the time. I had been ordained for some years and I had been reflecting deeply on purpose and place, both big and small questions about life. My life. Questioning my vocation. Thinking about what I should do next, where I fitted into the scheme of things. Perhaps this account is less about ‘voice’ and more about a ‘hearing’ some 20 or so years ago. The place where it occurred is important to me: a large volcanic rock on the flanks of Scafell in the Lakeland Fells. This was a very wintery day; snow had been on the high fells for weeks, was consolidated, sparkled and glinted in the sunshine. The place has become a ‘known location’, a patch of special ground, a familiar place. It’s easy for me to recognise as I pass and always creates a moment of familiarity. It’s marked by a boulder and it is where, for an instant, ‘the beyond’ touched my world in the present. On this day in particular, and like so many other days, I was out in the hills with a small group of friends. We’d been up to Scafell Crag doing a few winter routes in perfect snow conditions and, unusually, great weather. We’d had a good day, had done nothing hard or frightening and finished with a short walk to the summit. After some idle chat we turned and started down in the evening light. As so often happens, we were strung out, each person walking in their own world of thought, happy to be out and breathing mountain air. My world of thought had taken me back to my pressing questions of the time. I had been ordained for some years and I had been reflecting deeply on purpose and place, both big and small questions about life. My life. Questioning my vocation. Thinking about what I should do next, where I fitted into the scheme of things. I lifted my eyes from the snow covered path to the stunning mountain view, sharpened by a low sun, given crystal clarity by the cold weather and saturated with evening colour. It was a moment that demanded ‘stop, just breathe’ and it was in that moment I was aware of the answer. More than that, I ‘knew’ the answer. Sadly, any knowledge of the answer was lost in the same instant. The answer to my questions – about my faith, my choices in ministry, the crowding thoughts concerning how my life would stretch forward – was lost to the wind. But something had changed and it changed profoundly: the deepening of my

trust in God. This was the point at which my reflecting and musing had culminated in a release. It wasn’t that responsibility and accountability or decision-making were lifted from my shoulders. Somehow, though, the chains of my questions and fears were broken away. I could step forward in confidence. I could act. Father Charles Sutton is Associate Priest at All Saints’ Church Clifton, Bishop’s Advisor on Self-Supporting Ministry and an Organisational Psychologist / Contemplate now What one question would you most like the answer to? What are the reasons for asking this in the first place – what things about yourself? Is there any way you can understand these things about yourself as God’s gift to you? / Meditate through the day Try to look for moments, scenes and situations where you could imagine God trying to break through.

Spritz of destiny I realised once you accept the blessing you can understand God’s rest, his peace A few years back I was mega stressed and basically refused to let God talk to me. I got into the mindset of hating myself and this quietly spiraled over a few months to the point of trying every form of self-harm there is, I guess to try and make sense of pain, turmoil etc etc. Not good. Turns out there’s loads of ways to hate and destroy yourself, and none of them particularly work at sorting you out. Bummer! I hadn’t lost my faith; I’d chosen to be the judge of me rather than let God do it. This all came to a head and finally my brain popped and I was literally unable to speak for three days. It was pretty scary and I guess you could call it depression or a breakdown. Whatever it was, my mind just wanted to flatline for a while. So I saw my GP and with help from my wife and family, a few days later found myself in a little retreat on the Pembroke coast where I didn’t have to speak to anyone and I could just listen to God and primarily shut up for a bit. I really clearly heard God say a few key things, and over three days there were ten massive coincidences and/or life lessons. After one such lesson I responded, “Alright God, that was a pretty cool coincidence, what shall I read now?” “Galatians,” He said. Alright, you’re the boss. So Galatians explains the whole point of Jesus; what God was trying to do in the grand scheme throughout history. I thought I got this stuff but the truth is I’d rejected the idea that I was worthy of forgiveness. Galatians kind of explains why God did what he did, what it means to be at peace, to accept grace. Galatians also references this bit in the Old Testament when Moses spritzes the Israelites with water as a symbol of God’s blessing; a weird image that stuck in my mind. There are absolutely no references to depression or self-harm, so I was pretty sure it was all irrelevant until I got about halfway through. So I went for a walk along the coast to get some decent thinking air. I’d jogged up the coast path and appeared on a massive high cliff and just stopped there for a minute and realised something: I felt fear for the first time in 12 months. I heard God say, “What?” So I replied, “I’m afraid of these cliffs.” “So that means…?”

“It means… I must be worth saving, that I have value, the stuff in my head has a value!” The thing about hating yourself is that you start to become numb to fear. I hadn’t felt fear for about 12 months because I no longer thought I was worth anything. But when you relearn your value, you start to want to protect yourself a bit. And God replied, “Bless that thought.” And right at that moment I got fully, bodily smashed with a wall of water. I looked around to see where the water had come from. It wasn’t raining and I was right on top of a massive cliff in the middle of nowhere! A freak gust of wind had blown up the cliff, lifted a stream of water over 20 feet of headland and smashed into me. I immediately remembered the thing I’d just read the previous day, about Moses spritzing the Israelites when they were blessed. “Goodness”, I thought, “That was a coincidence!” Racking my brains for the Galatians reference to what comes after the water blessing spritzing thing, I realised once you accept the blessing you can understand God’s rest, his peace. He’s saying “We’re cool,” while parting the curtain that gets in our way of the holy place: the peace which I craved most of all, the thing that would solve the turmoil in my brain. Real peace is amazing, touchable stuff; it’s like gravy. Really experiencing peace when you’ve just been generating turmoil is like that bit in Star Wars when C3PO comes out of the desert and gets into the oil bath and exclaims “Thank the Maker!” It soaks into you and displaces the stuff you thought would break your limbs apart and turn your heart into pemmican. Peace is endless orders of magnitude beyond comfort or resolution. Not even ambition or self-judgement or ego or trauma can stand in its way. Sam Cavender is Digital Media Officer for the Diocese of Bristol / Contemplate now Imagine God changing turmoil to harmony as you listen to this music: https://soundcloud.com/samcav/claire-northey Claire Northey performing “So Close” at The Golden Lion, Bristol on Tuesday 17 March 2015 / Meditate through the day “A new creation is everything!” (Galatians 6:15)

Dedicated to the cause All the pain, betrayal, hate and everything else that I had bottled up over the years vanished like a popped balloon. I was raised in a Christian family and although my childhood was happy I was incredibly shy. In my teenage years, my closest friend moved away, my parents split up and a peer group gave me years of malicious bullying. I didn’t ask for any help and food became my comfort of choice. I gained a lot of weight and struggled with identity, image, acceptance, belonging, love… I was very unhappy. But there were a few glimmers of hope. Even though I didn’t confide in my parents, I knew they cared. A Christian teacher cared (I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for Mr John!) and my church’s youth leaders also cared. Youth group was great – a place I could escape and simply enjoy something. The leaders Jacqui and Tony became stalwart people in my life. I left school and a new chapter in my life began – art college… I lost weight and found a new inner confidence through the one thing I was good at. Key people stood by me and I got involved in a Christian youth project managed by Tony. This was an opportunity to meet new people – Christian friends who accepted me for who I was. I was happier, I learned to trust again, but I still struggled with identity, image, acceptance, belonging, love… I was 24 when I gave my life to Jesus Christ. The previous five years had been the happiest time of my life but, despite this, my inner anxieties and insecurities would still return. One evening I hit rock bottom. Never had I felt so low, hopeless, insecure, confused, troubled and desperate. I was well and truly lost and there was no visible light at the end of the tunnel. In a flash all my coping mechanisms collapsed as the tears ran down my face. I knew that there was only one person I could turn to. The time had come to ask God for help. I don’t remember what I said but I’ll never forget what I experienced. It’s as though God said, “I know” and He had been waiting for this moment. I simply responded, “Why?” Maybe I was hoping for an explanation to all my troubles, but God’s response was simple and straight to the point. Like a flash God’s love pulsed through my body. My soul ignited and in that moment I felt different. I smiled. All the pain, betrayal, hate and everything else that I had bottled up over the years vanished like a popped balloon. In that moment I knew that my life had a purpose.

Six months later I made the bold move to resign from my job and go traveling around Australia to figure out God’s purpose for me. As I was walking/praying along Coogee Bay, looking out and admiring the surfers, God confirmed my vocation and two months later I flew home to train as a youth minister. 16 years on and God’s purpose is still prevailing in my life. In my heart I know that I have not been the most faithful servant. I’ve made mistakes but, like a surfer, I’m still dedicated to the cause. I’ve been scared and frustrated, have persevered and been willing to get into water over my head and God’s reward has been worth it every time – although I don’t have a VW Camper yet! Even though the struggles and torments of yester-year still rear their ugly heads every now and then, God continues to be faithful to me and that alone keeps me steadfast. I often wonder why. But deep down, I know – just like God said, “I know” in the quiet of my bedroom – that God loves me and nothing will ever change that. Dan Jones is Adviser for Youth and Children’s Work for the Diocese of Bristol / Contemplate now Think about purpose and change. Do you identify any inner-anxiety within yourself, whether it’s immediate or ongoing? What kind of ‘surfboard’ can you ask for from God to ride those waves? / Meditate through the day Look for the things you’ve done well and to do things well; look for the people you trust and to trust people. Bless these through the day.

Seeds were sown At that very moment it was quite clear, like the proverbial bolt from the blue, that I was being called. My teenage years were spent in the 1960s and so I was greatly influenced by the huge changes to society, the ‘do as you like’, ‘never had it so good’ era and I took full advantage to thoroughly indulge myself. Whilst at school I had joined my local rugby club, Dings Crusaders. Dings were an offshoot of the Shaftesbury Crusade, a Christian organisation formed in the late 19th century to care for the people of The Dings area of Bristol. Many of the senior members of the rugby club were Christians and had no qualms about stating so. I had never heard people talk about Jesus in such an open and passionate way before, and in a non-church environment. To those of us veering off the rails they acted as mentors and seeds were sown that would blossom later with unexpected results. My next encounter with overt Christians came when our children arrived. Just like my parents before me, we consigned them to Sunday School. My wife Anita started staying at church and one day said to me, “Trev, you are missing something by not coming to church yourself.” So I gave it a try. I was welcomed and enjoyed the fellowship but more importantly I was grabbed by the preaching and the awe in worship – so much so, I leapt in with both feet! All that those men had said years earlier at the rugby started to make sense and give me a real purpose. I was confirmed and shortly after undertook the ‘Taste and See’ theological course. I felt called to preach the Good News and having tested this calling I was accepted for Reader training and became licensed in 1992. I thought I had fulfilled my calling and had never explored ordained ministry until one day in 2005 when my incumbent said to me that she could sense a call to ordination in me. At that very moment it was quite clear, like the proverbial bolt from the blue, that I was being called. I was accepted for the new Ordained Local Minister training course, which turned out to be innovative, intense and unique. Ordained Local Ministry appealed to me greatly, I was born in East Bristol, I had lived in my parish for over 40 years and I knew the area and the context intimately. Sadly, due to tragic circumstances, my incumbent left the parish before my ordination but I was well supported by others in our partnership. I retired from work on the same weekend as I was made a priest and cared for the parish until the appointment of our Priest in Charge.

The first thing I did was, through prayer and discussion, to discern those within the parish family who would be able to work as a ministry leadership team. My intimate knowledge of the area allowed us to build relationships with schools, other denominations, community organisations, community policing, youth and many others and grow the church in a number of ways when things seemed black. I never thought as a young man listening to those older men at the rugby club telling me of Christ’s influence in their lives that one day I would be called to do the same thing. I pray that I have the same effect on others that those men did on me. Revd Trevor Denley is an Associate Local Minister at St Aidan’s Church, Two Mile Hill / Contemplate now What was sown years ago that has flowered in you or your life? What would you like to see nurtured in your local community? What invitation could you extend (or accept) to make this happen? / Meditate today Faith in Christ situates a person in a life that is wider than their own, that came before their own and will go on beyond them, with them.

Be still, my soul My favourite hymn is called ‘Be still, my soul’. It points to the fact that we all, whether we like it or not, most of us, have crosses to bear. There are things to deal with that we carry throughout our lives. It’s been there ever since childhood, as long as I can remember, so that it’s not a thing I can claim credit for – that I was sent as a young boy to a church school. My father had been killed at the end of the war and I think it was to get me out of my mother’s way on Sundays. I was involved in the Church from a very young age as a choir boy and as an altar boy. I was indoctrinated and took on a faith that God exists and must be served and its been with me pretty well ever since. I quickly absorbed the words, so I knew them, but it was a mystery of course to a child. By my teenage years, though, I understood it and what was expected, although for a while – I spent some time with a very fiery preacher – I couldn’t work out what my great sins were. I couldn’t find any that I’d committed by that time! The priest of my parish took extra care of me and convinced my mother and I that I was called, and the programme was that I would become a priest in the Anglo-Catholic church. I went to a grammar school so that I could learn Latin and Greek because you needed that then. That was my downfall because I clearly wasn’t bright enough to absorb those things. It was part of my clear intention to serve God as an ordained priest but by the time I got to 16 my mother couldn’t afford for me not to work and so I had to change my course a bit. I became involved in The Bristol Initiative about 30 years ago when I took some time out of my job which was in a big corporation in London. A Franciscan monk had approached me to come and do a job for a group of business people in Bristol who in the mid 1980s were very concerned about a great city not really going anywhere. We had the highest homelessness problem outside of London, there was no progress in sight, there was no ambition. This group of men and women from the largest businesses decided that they should do something about it. They weren’t all Christians but most of them were, which gave us the whole idea that we should turn our energies toward the benefit of the whole community, which was expressed in a very practical way. The thing that takes my time now is as chairman of the hospital and I’m deeply concerned in the practical, caring expression of love for one another. The caring professions are right at the heart of that. They need to know that

they’re supported not just by the system but by what we believe in. My favourite hymn is called ‘Be still, my soul’. It points to the fact that we all, whether we like it or not, most of us, have crosses to bear. There are things to deal with that we carry throughout our lives. And that’s part of the job. You can’t get away from that burden but you’re not on your own. I’d had this natural thing: God was with me all the time… But there was a time – I was about 30 – a young man I knew was killed in a motorbike accident. The father and mother were very distraught and the father was particularly hurt. He came to dinner some months later at our house and he just attacked me. He said, “You believe in the biggest confidence trick that has ever been perpetrated on mankind.” And it was such a shock – the vehemence that he had – and I knew his loss, I felt the loss myself, the young man was a very fine chap. And I thought he may be right and I decided not to believe. It’s not as simple as that and this passed very quickly. It wasn’t in my hand whether I believed or not. I couldn’t get away from knowing that God is there. If you believe in the way that I do – faith as a gift – it makes a great deal of demands of you. I always regret that I don’t seem to be a better example but I won’t be coy – it has played a part in my decision-making throughout my life. Dr John Savage CBE is a leading business figure in Bristol. He has roles with many different organisations, including Executive Chairman of Bristol Chamber of Commerce & Initiative and Chairman of University Hospitals Bristol. John is also Canon Treasurer of Bristol Cathedral. This was adapted from a live BBC interview at Bristol Cathedral, which can be heard online here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02mqxd6. / Contemplate now Have you felt called or that something would happen and it’s turned out differently? When has faith changed something for you or in your community? If faith is a gift from God, how do you feel your faith is given to you by God? What ways of you have of asking and receiving? / Meditate through the day Today is the Feast of the Annunciation when we remember the angel Gabriel telling the Virgin Mary that she was chosen to bear and give birth to the one who was God. She would be hunted as a refugee and would see her son executed. She exercised her faith through submission to God’s will, saying “Behold, the servant of the Lord.”

When I am weak I am strong But one day it hit me how much I was loved by God – in a personal way, warts and all. I grew up in a loving Christian family. My father is a priest in the Church of England and we moved to several parishes in the Chichester Diocese when I was young. I knew that God loved me but I faced a crisis of confidence in myself and my abilities during my teenage years. I had a terrible stutter and stammer but one day it hit me how much I was loved by God, in a personal way, warts and all. Knowing that God loved me unconditionally meant I grew in confidence in myself, my abilities and my potential. As a university student I had the privilege of attending a conference at Ampleforth Abbey. I was prayed for in a quiet and unobtrusive way by one of the brothers there, which was hugely profound. It was here that God confirmed his love for me and I experienced his healing of my extreme stutter and stammer. I grew in confidence in my speaking and like Moses, who had a stammer, I felt God could use me in spite of my speech impediment. Later I felt a real calling to full time Christian ministry but I was left wondering how God could possibly call me to serve him with the stutter and stammer I had. Over the years of ordination training I did attend speech therapy at college, which helped enormously in the process of continued healing too. God called me and equipped me to serve him in the Anglican Church. He gave me the gifts I needed and healed me of my stammer. I know that when I get tired or over enthusiastic I can speak too quickly or swallow sentences but, through quiet prayer and breathing exercises, I am able to slow down and am much more confident speaking publicly than I once was. I continue to be thankful to Him. A verse which often helps me to remember God’s healing love is, ‘When I am weak I am strong’. God uses me through my vulnerabilities so that I can reach out to others. The effect this whole experience has had on me is that, since speaking has been a struggle for me, I do try, when I speak, to speak encouraging words based on God’s love and compassion. Revd Canon Simon Stevenette is Vicar at Christ Church Swindon, chaplain to Swindon Town Football Club and is the Area Dean. / Contemplate now What’s your greatest, possible secret, vulnerability?

How can this become a means of sharing love in the world? Pray for God’s blessing on this. / Meditate through the day Look for occasions where strength is really weakness.

I looked back and realised One day I looked back over the previous few weeks and realised. Having grown up in a non-churchgoing family in the Midlands, church was not something that impinged on my life at all until we moved to Bristol in my late 20s. Peter, my husband, had been brought up as a Methodist but hadn’t gone to church regularly for many years. When we had our first son, however, we both agreed that we would like him to grow up in a family of faith. We were a long way from our natural families and knew we needed the support of a bigger community. After trying a few churches we settled at St Michael’s Stoke Gifford. David and Becky Widdows drew us into the life of the church and within a short time I found myself leading the youngest Sunday School class, a great way to learn theology! At the same time, David invited me to a ‘seekers’ group’ – like Alpha but before Alpha was invented. It was interesting but I was pretty much untouched by the experience. A little while later David invited me to another seekers group – different people, different material but still, nothing stirring in me faith-wise. A few months after that course, David was planning the next seekers group. He later told me that he’d hesitated about inviting me a third time – what more could he say or do to encourage me to make a commitment? – but at the last moment, he picked up the phone and I was doing course number three. As part of that course there was an evening of prayer for the Holy Spirit and, whether it was that or that Jesus just got tired of waiting for me to decide, somewhere in that course I stepped off the cliff of faith and have never looked back. I can’t even say it was a conscious decision – one day I looked back over the previous few weeks and realised that Jesus was now Lord of my life and nothing would ever be the same again. My journey since then, into ordination and onward, has been like a rollercoaster – one of those really scary ones when you suddenly find yourself facing what looks like a sheer climb or a death-defying plunge and thinking, “I can’t do this!” But in Christ all things are possible and, if you’re doing it right, he’s in charge of the accelerator and the brakes. Just before I was about to start theological college, I was driving home from work and thinking “This is nuts. I’ve only been a Christian for a very few years. What do I think I’m doing!?” A song came on the radio and the chorus was about stepping off a cliff into a new relationship.The refrain was ‘We may fall… but what if we fly?’ It has

been the refrain of my life for the past ten years and long may it be so. Revd Sam Rushton has been the Adviser for Licensed Ministry for the Diocese of Bristol for the last seven years, and is about to move to the Diocese of York where she will be Archdeacon of Cleveland. / Contemplate now Rollercoasters may not be your thing but do you have faith in the possibility? Do you have a community, maybe your church, where there are people who can lead you to live in faith? Think about the last few weeks since Lent began – has anything caught your attention? / Meditate today Only in the face of the impossible does it mean anything to agree with what Jesus said, “In God, all things are possible.” Look for opportunities to put hope in and rely on God.

A hound of heaven Finally, in despair, I phoned a retired teacher friend saying I was going mad. Her response was simple: she chuckled, saying, You have a hound of heaven on your trail… I had survived the stormy waters of adolescence as an adopted child and had suddenly realised I loved English Literature and wanted to spend my life learning more about it. I must admit I was influenced by George Bernard Shaw’s prefaces to his plays, so many of which dealt with the hypocrisies of self proclaimed religious people. My husband was a confirmed atheist and without really thinking much about it I slipped into the same habit of thought. I suppose I was horribly self-satisfied. My teaching career was very happy and successful and I loved it. We had one son, now 46, and our only problem had been an unexpected and severe post natal depression. I had gone through that darkness with no impulse to pray for help, even though my first step out of it was when the very eccentric vicar of our tiny village took me into our lovely church and performed a churching service. Yet I failed to understand why and how this helped my recovery. In 1990, a girl I had taught for the last four years, who had the makings of an amazingly mature and original poet, went to Egypt for her gap year and committed suicide over an unhappy love affair. This almost broke me, mainly because of the sheer waste. She had had one poem, about a miscarriage, read on a BBC poetry programme and had received letters from women saying how the poem had helped them. I think I suffered so much because I was so angry with her for selfishly destroying a talent that could have been some help to the world. I knew anger was a totally inappropriate reaction to the situation but one lunch time I stormed into the school chaplain’s study and demanded, furiously, what on earth his God thought he was doing? The poor man was completely at a loss and stammered out a few anodyne clichés. I left, thinking, “Well, that takes God out of it – I must find a solution somewhere else”. Months later, the same chaplain almost broke down in church while preaching on the imminent war in Iraq. To me, this was Christ weeping over Jerusalem. I was stunned by the power of new feelings, retreated inwards trying to make sense of it. Friends thought I must have serious health or marriage problems. Finally, in despair, I phoned a retired teacher friend saying I was going mad. Her response was simple: she chuckled, saying, “You have a hound of heaven on your trail,” and gave me her vicar’s address. His response to my chaotic letters was marvellous, as was, later, the

response of the chaplain who had originally left me cold, and also my village vicar. I took my first Communion for over 30 years in the school church, and later found the courage to take a morning service at school and tell girls and staff what had happened to me . I’ve found purpose and meaning in life. I can despair of the church as an all too human institution but I fix on Christ’s love and try (often failing spectacularly) to see it in others. I have always felt joy in life, and now I know why I feel that – and to whom I owe my gratitude and love. ‘Jenny’ goes to St Mary’s Church in Purton, Wiltshire / Contemplate now If you have faith in Christ, how does it help you celebrate the joy felt by those who don’t? How can our mourning bring us and those who suffer closer to God? The Church can fail us and it can bring us to God’s saving grace – how do we think of the part of the church made up of us? / Meditate today When Jesus wept over Jerusalem, before He was revealed as the Saviour of the world, He said, “If only you knew today what things would bring peace – but now it is hidden from your eyes.”

With Jesus beside, before and behind It’s not easy but underneath it all I can keep an optimism. I’m working to try to give back a little of what I’ve received, especially to those whom society tends to ignore. Coming to faith was for me a gradual process and despite me doing things I shouldn’t. But from childhood I had to concede there was a god. I hadn’t worked at Christianity but today I am a Christian. It was a slow bouncing back and forth. John 3:16 – “God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life.” I remember seeing this on a wall in London and I’ve come to realise that by believing your life changes. I’ve had low points in the throws of alcoholism, living only a semi-reality with sickness. I had no friends. I lived in a doss-house and had social anxiety disorder. I couldn’t fight it but a power greater than myself came to my rescue. God did reveal himself to me as Jesus Christ and he has brought me back from death. God has brought me healing. He may not have a cure but he gives me wholeness. He helps me with my mental health and in dealing with psychiatric disorders. He has brought me friends and support through the local church. The freedom that he has given me from alcoholism is wonderful. I have been given security. Six years ago I was diagnosed with an incurable cancer and I’m going through chemotherapy with remission of one to seven years likely. That’s not easy but underneath it all I can keep an optimism. I’m working to try to give back a little of what I’ve received, especially to those whom society tends to ignore. I know I live my life with Jesus beside, before and behind me. I’m living by this prayer which I was given: “O Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, stay beside me to defend me, within me to guide me, before me to lead me, behind me to guard me, above me to bless me; that with you and in you, I may live and move and have my being for ever and ever. Amen.” Nick lives in a small town in the north-east corner of the Diocese and worships at the local church there / Contemplate now What things do you find challenge the hope Christ gives of a life of

wholeness? Imagine utter bleakness; how would that change what God looks like to you? Is God more present for you in good times or bad? / Meditate through the day As Holy Week begins, consider in various moments that strike you through your day how Christ might have prepared for the end of His life on Good Friday.

Wilderness times Throughout all of his illness, he never lost his faith, his confidence in God, his desire to serve God, or even his sense of humour. When his physical strength had gone, he remained a strong man; finding his strength in God alone. Growing up in a Christian family, I was always aware of the reality of God, being a part of our daily lives. My mother and father were actively involved in the church and lived their lives serving God, aiming to bring his life into the lives of others. I find it hard to point to one specific day when I ‘became a Christian’. It seemed to be that as my understanding of God grew, so did my desire to follow him. I remember listening at the age of nine to a man called Jack Lemmon, who shared his story of finding God in the most difficult of times when in prison. He challenged us that faith was not something you could inherit but something you needed to choose for yourself. I wanted to make that choice. Some years later, I came to realise that faith was far more than simple belief. I couldn’t have asked for a better childhood with so many memories of family time together, enjoying the natural world, fishing, canoeing, climbing mountains, going out to sea or all around the South West or Wales in our caravan. When my father contracted cancer, my whole world was turned upside down. My Dad, a minister in a Baptist church, was a big man, a strong man, respected by many and a strong leader. As cancer took hold of him, I saw him shrink in size, but not in character. His illness shocked the church and I, along with many others, struggled to come to terms with why it was happening to him. Didn’t he have so much more to achieve? Wasn’t God supposed to be a good God? These and many more questions troubled me greatly. Over a few years, we prayed and prayed, even seeing miraculous healing for a period of time which doctors could not explain. During this time, I was so privileged to even be baptised by my Dad; a special time. But as the cancer came back with a vengeance, I watched as my Dad lost weight and strength, becoming gaunt and wheelchair bound; a shadow of the man he was. Throughout all of his illness, he never lost his faith, his confidence in God, his desire to serve God, or even his sense of humour. When his physical strength had gone, he remained a strong man; finding his strength in God alone.

For me, watching him die was the darkest of times. When I think of Lent, and Jesus’ wilderness experience, I remember this as one of my wilderness times. It was a time when belief was not enough. I wrestled with God, cried to him or shouted at him; angry at him for seeming to ignore my prayers and lack compassion for my pain. My Dad died the week before my 13th birthday. Weeks earlier he gave me my early birthday present of a camera and taught me how to use it. This was his last trip out of home. (Even now I think of him in my love of photography; how much he gave me!) For a while, I was torn between thankfulness that he wasn’t suffering any more, confusion as to why he had to die, fear for how I would get by without him, anger at my loss, such deep grief, and a joy that he was in a far better place where his body worked properly again and he could enjoy life with God once more. I guess I was happy for Dad but so sad for all he left behind. Through the wilderness times, the ‘dark night of the soul’ when faith is tested and it feels like we cannot get through this on our own, belief becomes faith – belief in action. This was my experience and I came to know God was with me, in the happiness and the pain. He had a plan for me and would be my strength when I had none of my own. I found the truth in the text, ‘You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.’ (Matthew 5:3 The Message). We might not feel blessed but we can certainly know what it is to not be alone or find strength to overcome, when really dependent upon God. This has continued to be the truth for me throughout my life. God is my strength and my hope. God is good even when life is not. Jon Bird is headteacher at St Mary’s CE Primary School, Yate / Contemplate now What does God’s presence mean to you; how would you notice God’s absence? Whether faith is something you’ve always felt, never felt or have found – maybe only at times – does action come first or afterwards? What does it mean to bring God’s life into the loves of others? How does it happen? / Meditate through the day Find some part of yourself that’s not what you want; try to shed it for today and let God be there instead.

Hope and doubt Doing this helps me ask some of the questions that I’ve had in my own mind for a long time. Faith has always been part of the landscape. I was brought up in a family of faith, went to church, Sunday school, we’d quite often have clergymen round for breakfast before Sunday services. Then I went to a secondary Catholic school and it was an international school so we learned about other faiths as well through that. I was very much a part of the school choir and the local parish choir as well. There was quite a bit of confusion at times trying to work out what the difference was between Catholics and Anglicans which led to a lot of discussion with our RE teacher Miss Peel. I went on to university in Northern Ireland towards the end of the Troubles there. There was a bomb in the town I lived in during my first term. At Christmas time you’d have the local band playing in the town centre next to servicemen with guns. It was always really strange to see that – people singing about peace next to people trying to keep peace. I remember once in my second year suddenly deciding to take myself to church at Easter time but other than that I didn’t show any interest at that point at all, like a lot of people I’ve interviewed. I started doing the Sunday morning programme on BBC Bristol two years ago. I was fascinated by the subject, talking to people about ethical issues, moral issues, faith issues. It’s been a huge privilege ever since. The main thing that I’ve got from doing this is that it helps me ask some of the questions that I’ve had in my own mind for a long time. I now know that lots of people in various positions of faith, whatever faith they are, they have their own doubts, their own questions about things, it’s not just black and white all of the time. My favourite hymn is Lord of All Hopefulness. It has a very simple message for me. I think everybody wants to hope to believe that you are protected, guided, watched over. That’s something that I hold dear. Lucy Tegg presents Sunday Breakfast on BBC Radio Bristol This was adapted from a live BBC interview at Bristol Cathedral, which can be heard online here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p02mdd82 (47 minutes in). / Contemplate now Is doubt something you can accept – in yourself or other people? Has believing in God’s protection helped you step out into the unknown, the

dangerous or the uncomfortable? Does hope cancel doubt or is it beyond doubt and certainty? / Meditate through the day When Lucy interviewed the Archbishop of Canterbury, during his visit to the Diocese in September, he talked to her about his own doubt. Look for doubt and despair in and around you, and bless it with hope.

Follow me – but where Lord? How does it feel for a wife with two young boys, recently moved house and well settled in a community, to hear her husband say God has spoken to him? This is my third go at producing a piece for 10,000 Voices. I knew I should write something about the moment – and it was a very clear moment – when God called me to leave one life behind and trust him with another. Yet I have found it harder to do than I thought. At one level it is a straightforward story – man known to be committed Christian leaves to become a priest. But there are very different takes on that headline: how does it feel for a wife with two young boys, recently moved house and well settled in a community, to hear her husband say God has spoken to him? What do colleagues think of a man who seems to be throwing away years of specialist training and an impressive CV to become a parson? What do those who could never have seen this man becoming a vicar think of such an idea? What of the man himself, who was so passionate about scientists who were Christians seeing their work as a vocation from God? What do the in-laws and out-laws make of it all? None of these aspects were in view on the evening of Tuesday 1 September 1987 at around 8pm when I encountered God in a way which would change everything so radically. The facts are simple. I was away with around 70 teenagers in Shropshire for the holiday which the church arranged each year. The encounter occurred during a time of silence following some praise and worship but the experience is harder to describe. I don’t know how long the silence lasted but in that stillness God met me in a way which I can only describe as both exhilarating and terrifying. It was a voice, yet not an audible one. It was a call to leave one life and begin another and effectively the question Jesus posed to all his followers, “Will you follow me?” Though it was not precisely clear to what or where, in my heart I sensed it was almost certainly to ordained ministry. On that defining evening with its complex mix of emotions my response was simply to say I was willing with one vital rider: God needed to make this as clear to Liz as he had to me! As you might imagine, returning home and sharing this with her was not straightforward… Conversation proved strained for a number of weeks if not months. Yet Liz sensed in her soul that God was

in this call, however difficult it was to work through. We kept what was happening private, sharing only with a few key Christian friends, while I had to examine at 32 whether this was a somewhat premature mid-life crisis. All of this needed plenty of time for reflection and discernment. Four years later, with a new addition to our family in Louise, Liz and I moved to a theological college and away from the church and the people who had been such a blessing to us. Hesitantly we began a new chapter of our journey with one another and with Christ. It was a huge and emotional step. If the idea of my becoming a vicar had been intimidating for both of us, the thought of being made a bishop would have been even more so! Following Jesus is rarely an easy road to take but time and again we have found that God is able to do so much more than we can ask or imagine (Ephesians 3: 14-21). It is a truth that can only be discovered when we are on that road. Lee Rayfield is the Bishop of Swindon Contemplate now Where and when are there spaces in your life to allow God to speak to you? Leaving one way of life and beginning another can be both terrifying and exhilarating. How might faith in God help us deal with moments of change? Meditate throughout the day On Maundy Thursday many priests and deacons across the world will renew their ordination vows, reminding themselves of their calling to be servants of God. All of us are called by God, and sometimes it is hard going. Think of some of those you know may be struggling with their calling, whether it be as teachers, office workers, in the military, social work, medicine, or even the church. How might you encourage them practically and prayerfully today?

Uniting our sufferings It was the realisation that they were both potty about God that brought them to a new and wonderful place in their own relationship. For ‘God is Love, and those who live in love live in God and God lives in them.’ Can there be a point to suffering? While working as a hospital chaplain I came across a Liverpudlian matriarch, just like the mum on the 80s TV series ‘Bread’. She too had a sizeable family, had nursed one son through a terminal illness and had trailed across to Australia so that she could care for a grandchild while her daughter was at work. Her humour and the twinkle in her eye were something else. I was truly captivated, and shall refer to her as Lilly from here on. Regularly we would share Morning Prayer and on one particular occasion her daughter ‘Gina’ was there when I arrived. Leaning on that promise Jesus made that “Where two or more are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst,” I suggested that we got to prayer. Gina asked, “Is that OK Mammy?” to which Lilly begrudgingly replied, “If he says it’s OK, I suppose so.” At that particular time I was a Roman Catholic and I later found out that Gina had become a Methodist, which had not gone down too well with Lilly. A few weeks later, Gina came to me and said that when she had offered to pray the rosary with her mum, Lilly had told her that it would be sinful to do so. I explained that this is not true but suggested they could definitely share passages from the Bible. I told Gina she would find a Bible in Lilly’s bedside locker, and she went off with a spring in her step. Lilly’s illness was such that it required regular amputations. This was taken with a resilience that showed the British stiff upper lip at its best. Other family members visited regularly but something was happening between Gina and her mum that was different. Gina’s siblings hadn’t been near a church for years but they had remained within the family’s traditional faith community, while Gina had found her personal relationship with Jesus through the Methodist church; a personal relationship with Jesus that her mother had also. It was the realisation that they were both potty about God that brought them to a new and wonderful place in their own relationship. For “God is Love, and those who live in love live in God and God lives in them.”

Little by little, Lilly’s health continued to deteriorate and she went to a palliative care ward. But the humour remained. Regularly we would be in fits of laughter with tears of joy streaming down our faces. One morning, Lilly had said something so silly or outrageous and again Gina and I were in fits. While taking breath, we looked and saw that Lilly had died. While we were both dealing with the shock, Gina said to me “You know, Bill, I always knew when Mammy was in pain, her lips were moving 19 to the dozen.” I said, “Your mum and I had a discussion about suffering and I shared the opportunity that Jesus gives each and every one of us, to unite our sufferings with those that He went through in His passion in the Garden of Gethsemane right the way through to His Crucifixion and Death on the Cross.” Gina knew exactly what I meant and the realisation of what her mum was doing in those times of immense pain was a huge comfort to her. It is my hope and my prayer that this particular memory of Lilly is a comfort to you during your tough times too. Uniting our sufferings with Christ’s for the salvation of others is a standing invitation open to us all. Revd Bill O’Connell is Priest-in-Charge at Lyddington and Wanborough and Bishopstone with Hinton Parva in Wiltshire / Contemplate now Today is Good Friday; what does the death of all hope look like to you? Because the realm of God stretches even into death, death can no longer deny the gift of life. Christ is with us in our suffering; we can be with Christ in His. / Meditate through the day “Wherever there is affliction, there is the Cross – concealed, but present to anyone who chooses truth rather than falsehood and love rather than hate.” (Simone Weil)

The desire for meaning While the story of Jesus has been there in the background, it was never anything more to me than a story. I guess that’s not altogether surprising as the daughter of an agnostic and an atheist. When I think about it, the story of Christ has been a faint thread running through my youth. I was so excited when I first heard the story of the Nativity when I was about five or six at primary school. I remember how much it captured my imagination. Whenever I saw the first star in the night sky, it was the star. I’d make my friends act out the story with me in the playground. When I was a little older I got to appear in the school Nativity Play, although I was sorely disappointed not to get the part of Mary as I was too tall, apparently. “Mary can’t be taller than Joseph,” I was told and I had to be Angel Gabriel instead. I was not impressed. I knew Gabriel was male. I went on to study drama at Bristol University. In my first year, I finally got to play the part of Mary in The Annunciation as part of a production of pageants from the Wakefield medieval mystery plays. We performed it as a scene from Eastenders. The intimacy of the drama between Mary and Joseph when she first reveals to him she is pregnant despite never having lain with him read like something straight out of a soap opera to us budding young thespians. But while the story of Jesus has been there in the background, it was never anything more to me than a story. I guess that’s not altogether surprising as the daughter of an agnostic and an atheist. That’s quite a hard thing for me to write as the communications officer for the Diocese of Bristol. Surely the person with the task of broadcasting the message should believe the message? I do believe there must be a God. However I have no idea what I really mean by that. Given who I work for, I have thought about this quite a lot. All I know is there has to be something ‘more’. I feel it. There is something bigger that connects us all as human beings. But I find it almost impossible to align any ‘feeling’ of God with any of the definitions out there. After attending Christian primary schools in the Midlands and then the North East, I moved to a comprehensive in East London for my secondary years, where pretty much every religion under the sun was represented. None of these ever attracted or appealed to me, and being part of a faith group

seemed to represent distinctions and divisions to me, rather than that sense of connectedness I could feel inside. I believe too in Jesus; as Jesus the man. What I can’t get my head around though is Jesus the Son of God, God incarnate. As Bishop Lee told me when I first met him, to be a Christian you need to believe fully in the concept of the Resurrection, the Holy Trinity. You can’t simply believe Jesus was a decent bloke who did some good things. Why am I sharing this with you? It’s not really a story of faith, after all. And that’s what 10,000 Voices is all about. This is more a story of a lack of faith. Well, I guess it’s because how I feel seems to be how so many of my contemporaries feel. I’ve talked about this with friends and the same themes tend to come up again and again. A feeling that there’s something more. A desire for meaning. A sense of connectedness. A belief in God yet an inability to make the jump to believing that God ever walked this earth as Jesus. If you are a Christian reading this, then I suppose my question for you is, how do you share the ‘Good News’ with people who have not been brought up in the Christian tradition, who have seldom attended church, or for whom Christ is a man in a story book? These are people with big questions about life, who are searching for meaning, desperate for their life to have more significance than being the lucky end result of evolution. How do you help people make that jump? Is it possible? The other reason I ask is because at Diocesan Synod back in February, the Principal of Wycliffe Hall, Revd Dr Michael Lloyd, gave a really interesting (and at times very funny) talk on why he has confidence in the mission of the Church. “…What we have to give is what people crave,” he told us, “because the Christian gospel meshes so intricately with human need. The doctrine of the Trinity feeds the tap roots of our beings. And our mission is to love them, so as to reflect God’s love to them. Our mission is so to love them that they find it easier to believe in God’s love for them. “But our mission is also to tell them of the nature of Being, of the surd of Love at the heart of reality. If we do not tell them of the triune nature of God, we leave them to starve off the scraps. I am confident about our mission because I know that only the doctrine of the Trinity can meet the desperate need for love in the human heart.” A phrase Michael used throughout his address was, “And people need to know that.” But the question I kept asking in my head throughout was, “How?” How do you help people know that – people who might be searching for meaning but are so shut off from formal church and religion? Talking to Christians, I get the impression that believing in the Resurrection of Christ and the Holy Trinity is something you just do. It’s a belief you come to

yourself. You just feel and know it to be so. Do you feel it? Is that how it is for you? I wish I could feel it. Life would be so much easier. Or would it? Ness is Communications Officer for the Diocese of Bristol / Contemplate today Christ’s friends and followers thought he was gone forever. Their faith was gone. How do you imagine they tried to make sense of this? Do mysteries like the Resurrection work better for you as things to try and understand rationally or things to contemplate intuitively? If faith is a feeling too far away, does it stop God being close? If faith is your firm conviction, does it automatically make a difference? / Meditate today “Something strange is happening – there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.” From an ancient homily for Holy Saturday The need for love, fear of meaning and the defeat of death: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iy7Xxd0_DBE

© Diocese of Bristol 2015. www.bristol.anglican.org/voices/ These stories formed part of the www.10kvoices.org website For Lent 2015.