We continue to live in times of unprecedented and unsettling change and uncertainty. At a time when change is often feared, stability can be elusive, and busyness interferes with listening to God, this quiet day offers an opportunity for space and reflection.
There will be three short talks, times of silence and prayer. The event takes place at Treargel Retreats in Cornwall and is led by Revd Jane & Richard Frost.
All are welcome and please contact Treargel to book a place.
We continue to live in times of unprecedented and unsettling change and uncertainty. At a time when change is often feared, stability can be elusive, and busyness interferes with listening to God, this quiet morning offers an opportunity for space and reflection.
There will be two short talks, times of silence and prayer. The event takes place at St James’ Church, Exeter and is led by Richard Frost. There is no charge but donations will be requested to help cover costs.
All are welcome and please contact Richard to book a place.
The first hour lasted for ages. It was cold. The seating was not exactly comfortable. The people around me talked while those taking part enacted their ritual and well-practiced actions. There were things going on which would seem strange to uninitiated.
No, not church… it was good to be at county cricket again after so many years.
And that first hour… That stage in a new experience when the unfamiliar lingers long, before the later moments rush by too fast… That first hour provided an unexpected presence of peace. I wanted it to last forever.
Depending on whether you are Indian or English it may or may not seem appropriate, but I am of course by far the first person to draw parallels between life and a game of cricket.
During our lives we can often be on the receiving end of the occasional googly, the random bouncer or find ourselves either stumped or caught out. We might even be like England (or indeed Somerset who I was watching last week) and suffer a complete collapse.*
But there are also those occasions when we strike a well-deserved boundary or even a six. All the same, in the traditional long game there are times when it’s all rather uneventful – although some may feel their life is more like the fast and furious T20 or The Hundred.
We talk of the long-lived as having had ‘a good innings’ and reflecting on my stay at the crease so far, moments of sheer happiness (hitting a six perhaps) are fairly few and far between and often short-lived. But I am content to play the game until the umpire calls stumps. There is peace in that contentment even when someone or something nearly runs me out.
Life is a long game. And so is prayer. If we approach prayer in the spirit of only having a set number of overs we find ourselves caught and bowled quite quickly. Prayer is not a test match.
Prayer is a long game and, in the same way the fielding side stays on the pitch for the whole innings, is a case of enacting ritual and well-practiced actions.
Ready. Waiting. In position. Responding.
I was reminded recently that in his book, You are the Beloved, Henri Nouwen puts what I’m getting at much more eloquently by using a totally different metaphor:
Dear Lord, today I thought of the words of Vincent van Gogh: “It is true there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea.” You are the sea. Although I experience many ups and downs in my emotions and often feel great shifts and changes in my inner life, you remain the same. Your sameness is not the sameness of a rock, but the sameness of a faithful lover. Out of your love I came to life, by your love I am sustained, and to your love I am always called back. There are days of sadness and days of joy; there are feelings of guilt and feelings of gratitude; there are moments of failure and moments of success; but all of them are embraced by your unwavering love…
O Lord, sea of love and goodness, let me not fear too much the storms and winds of my daily life, and let me know there is ebb and flow but the sea remains the sea. Amen.
Thank you for reading this post – please do share it with others, subscribe and contribute your thoughts at the WorkRestPray Facebook Group.
*This post was published on the day England lost the fourth test match against India – and coincidentally, Somerset fell to a second consecutive defeat by an innings… hey ho.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
It seems somewhat foolish to being calling it ‘Freedom Day’. With a third Covid wave charging onward, Tennyson’s famous lines have for me found a very uncomfortable echo in the lifting of restrictions in England on 19 July.
Not though the soldier knew,
Someone had blundered.
Nearly 40 years of being a public servant have largely suppressed my own personal political views. Echoing one of our party leaders, I sit in the ‘reckless’ camp (by view not hue) but neither would I want to have (or be capable of having) the responsibility our ministers, politicians and their advisors have in taking the country forward. I was honoured in the course of my work to meet several ministers, MPs and advisors and to be part of two government policy working groups. They have a thankless task and they probably won’t be thanked for it…
No doubt I would feel differently if I was running a business or working in a team being decimated by self-isolation pings but whatever our view (political or otherwise) I suspect many of us will continue to echo the BBC’s Chris Mason’s words of almost a year ago: ‘The virus has robbed us of many things. It continues to rob us of any certainty.’
Or, to put it more starkly, those of his colleague Clive Myrie at the height of January’s second wave: ‘We’re all scared.’ He said it three times.
While for many, being able to return to working and living in a more ‘normal way’ is welcome, we will all continue to live in uncertain and, perhaps, scary times for many months to come.
So this former civil servant must add some political balance: ‘This pandemic is not over,’ as the other party leader put it. It could be reversible, Boris.
We are still in the valley of Death.
The Psalmist wrote: ‘Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.’ (Psalm 23:4).
A long time ago, I experienced a significant period of illness lasting some three years or so and a delightful retired doctor who was a member of our church congregation at that time showed his understanding of my predicament and frustration (and fear) by referring to that verse: ‘Remember, Richard,’ he said, ‘we go through the valley – we don’t stay in it.’
We all go through troubled times. In some cases, those times are very long but here we have a clear, unequivocal promise that no matter how bad it gets the Lord is with us and we have nothing to fear.
A shepherd’s rod (a straight wooden stick) was carried in their belt to protect the flock from predators. The staff had that familiar hook like crook at the top. The staff kept the sheep in the fold, it was used to rescue them, to keep them on their feet.
Like the shepherd’s, God’s rod and staff are for our protection and to keep us safe. We may get prodded or pushed at times too. We will be rescued and put back on our feet. The Lord comforts us and enables us to know that we are cared for and loved.
Esther de Waal wrote, ‘The promise of the kingdom is not that we shall escape the hard things but that we shall be given grace to face them, to the enter into them, and to come through them. The promise is not that we shall not be afraid. It is that we need not fear.’
Led in to the valley of Death, the horsemen of the Light Brigade had no choice:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
There is, for us then, one significant difference: we do have a choice.
Be cautious.
Thank you for reading this post – please do share it with others, subscribe and contribute your thoughts at the WorkRestPray Facebook Group. Continuing the Psalm 23 theme, I’ve posted some photos alongside the words of the psalm which you may like to use to reflect upon (you may need to open an Instagram account to read the words – it’s free and there is no other commitment required)
… when the FA Cup Final started at 3 o’clock? When there was a piece of card in a Bounty bar? When the BBC used to play a hymn on Ascension Day?
Life is always changing, isn’t it? And in this coming week we see more changes as lockdown restrictions are eased further. Alongside the possibility of going to the theatre and concerts again, we can enter restaurants and pubs. And not least, have the joy of being hugged (cautiously, of course). Indeed, cautious remains a watchword and many will remain anxious too – not least those whose businesses reopen after so many months without the closeness of customers.
These continue to be unsettling and uncertain times.
The one thing that’s certain about change is that change is certain – and over the years I’ve written a number of posts which look at this unsettling companion.
You’ll have your own stories of change and how you managed or have not managed to find stability within them, I’m sure. (I’d love to hear those stories and include them in a new book I’m working on – do please click here to contribute).
On this Ascension Day we remember how the disciples watched as Jesus ascended in to heaven. The Bible tells us about many unusual, perhaps unbelievable events which took place and the Ascension is one of them. To our 21st century rational minds, to speak of someone going up in a cloud is beyond our comprehension. It simply couldn’t happen. It’s impossible.
In essence, the ascension of Jesus represents a significant truth… the physical presence of Christ departs from earth to be replaced by the spiritual presence in the form of the Holy Spirit whose coming we will celebrate in a few days’ time at Pentecost.
So on that day, the disciples, and probably others including many of the faithful women, stand gazing upwards. Perhaps talking about what had happened in those three years that Jesus was with them. ‘Do you remember when he did that…?’ ‘Yeah, that was wicked, man.’
They looked back because the weren’t certain what the future held. They would have found some stability in their memories of Jesus yet the challenge was for their faith to see them in to the future.
The fact is that they, like us, can’t just stand there looking up or looking back.
Some words from Helen Mallicoat…
‘I was regretting the past and fearing the future. Suddenly my Lord was speaking:
“My name is I AM.” He paused. I waited.
He continued.
“When you live in the past with its mistakes and regrets, it is hard. I am not there. My name is not I Was.
“When you live in the future with its problems and fears, it is hard. I am not there. My name is not I Will Be.
“When you live in this moment it is not hard. I am here. My name is I AM.”’
Thank you for reading this post – please do share it with others, subscribe and contribute your thoughts at the WorkRestPray Facebook Group. There are also short films about Ascension and Pentecost for you to watch.
Sarah Everard is the latest of many, many people whose tragic death has uncovered deep, long-standing issues within society.
Think too of others – Sarah Payne. Suzy Lamplugh. Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman. Emily Davison.
You can probably think of others. People who have been more influential in death than in life.
Throughout history there have been many such seminal moments. Times when as a society and as individuals we are forced to face up to that which has been left unaddressed, avoided or denied.
The Pankhursts. Mother Teresa. Nelson Mandela. Martin Luther King.
Once again, you can probably think of others – why not make a note of them here.
We might think of other occasions which have challenged the status quo and influenced change. In the 1980s, the Faith in the City report uncovered that which had been hidden in our inner cities. In the work I used to do, changes in equality legislation enabled significant improvements; and the work of Dame Carol Black in the mid-2000s brought workplace mental health to the fore. In the intervening decades, the change has been noticeable but is still ongoing.
Will the legacy of Sarah Everard, Black Lives Matter, Me Too, IICSA, Living in Love & Faith make a difference? It will probably be many years before we know the full impact.
People can have a lasting influence on each one of us – I know they have for me. I can think of several individuals I’ve known who through the things they said or did have helped shape the person I am. Perhaps you can recall some too.
I wonder what societal reaction Christ’s death would have if it took place today. An innocent 33 year-old. Killed in a barbaric way. There would be swathes of flowers and social media videos. Maybe protests too. (The resurrection branded as ‘fake news’…)
Would we remember his life, his teaching and the miracles?
As we move on through Lent and gradually approach Easter, maybe it’s a time to reflect on Christ’s lasting influence on society and on each one of us…
Thank you for reading this post – please do share it with others. If you’d like to follow the Easter journey there are some short films you may like to use.
I wonder what the word waiting means for you?
Waiting for a bus can mean the difference between arriving composed or agitated. Whether it’s at the dentist’s or the hospital, the ‘Waiting Room’ is rarely a restful place. Waiting for a phone call or a visit can stop us from doing anything else.
Waiting can be exciting. Those times when we can’t wait for something to happen. Waiting to hear about the birth of a child or the result of a job interview. Waiting for the stars to come out or the sun to rise.
Waiting for the jab. Waiting to see relatives and friends. Waiting for things to ‘get back to normal’. And now we wait for June 21st. Waiting doesn’t always result in a clear, definite outcome.
Because our 24/7 society demands – and provides – instant gratification we can forget how to wait. Everyone is rushing around. A click of a button brings a meal to our doorstep in minutes or that prized new retail item the very same day or the next one if we can’t wait any longer.
We can send an e-mail and get annoyed if someone hasn’t replied within a few minutes. We can watch box sets of the newest series on TV: gone are the days of waiting for ‘next week’s exciting episode…’
As someone once put it: ‘We act in haste and repent at leisure’. How many times have we seen – or indeed made – important decisions quickly only for them to come undone slowly?
Lent is a time of waiting. Waiting to arrive in Jerusalem. Waiting to gather in the upper room. Waiting in the garden at Gethsemane. Waiting at the foot of the Cross. Waiting for the resurrection.
As we continue our Lenten journey and discover more about what God wants for us there will be times of waiting.
Waiting is perhaps sometimes God’s way of saying: ‘This time is a gift to help you prepare for what is to come.’
Thank you for reading this post. If you would like to comment or offer your thoughts or experiences then please go to the new Work Rest Pray Facebook group. There’s a short film on the topic of waiting which you may like to watch during the period of Lent.
In other news… I am delighted that Feedspot have selected this website as one their Top 60 UK Christian Blogs and that a story of mine has been ‘Highly Commended’ in the Oxford Flash Fiction Prize 2021 (the story itself will be included in an anthology later in the year).
Daisy the Vicarage Dog is great with people. The six-year-old cocker spaniel can often be seen around the villages with the local vicar. She loves pastoral visiting and is greatly admired in return (Daisy that is – the vicar is too, of course). And yet, despite having lived with many of them and also bred her own pups before coming to us 18 months ago, Daisy doesn’t like other dogs. There’s a story there somewhere.
So, in an effort to help other canines maintain social distance, she now sports the words ‘No Dogs Please’ on her lead. Some dogs are better at reading than others and pass by without a sniff. Others though have owners who tell us how friendly their dog is: ‘Ours isn’t…’ we reply.
It seems to be the same with our own walks in these strange times, doesn’t it? Some give plenty of room and say ‘Thank you’ in the process. Others seeming to be dealing in feet rather than metres.
In a previous post, I reflected on how in contrast to the Good Samaritan we are now actively encouraged to walk by on the other side… and the consequences that has for many, even when it is for the greater good as we wait for better times to come.
Many have taken to wearing metaphorical signs stating ‘No People Please’ to the extent of not leaving their home out of anxiety and loss of confidence.
We will all have our story of these current times – whether it’s the practicalities of home schooling, working or being furloughed, the loss of normal social contacts, the opening and closing of churches. Stories of people we have lost or nearly did, of our own emotional and mental health struggles in the uncertainty and confusion and whether or not we tested positive or even ever had a test. There are and will continue to be many stories of the kindness of strangers, the heroics of key workers and the effect of the vaccine.
All the same, some of us will not want to hear those stories because, as the BBC’s Clive Myrie put it recently, ‘We’re all scared’. Some of us will want to carry a ‘No People Please’ sign for a while. Others of us will want to tell our story – because we need someone to listen. We need people to put down their sign and come close again.
However they may be told, many of us can benefit from listening to other people’s stories.
All the people who ever met Jesus have a story to tell (there’s some on my new website at astorytotell.org.uk). All ordinary people who encountered an extraordinary person.
We too can have such encounters when we put down the signs we carry – and the one marked ‘No God please’ too.
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A few days ago, my wife, who (unlike her husband) is often prone to outbursts of excitement, came rushing in saying, ‘Richard, there’s a message on the answerphone from the Dean of Southwark Cathedral! They’ve been using Life with St Benedict in their online Night Prayer and he wants to talk to you about it.’
It’s always lovely to learn that something one has done is being helpful to others. And if you’re interested, the interchange I then had with Dean Andrew Nunn has resulted in an online event to which you would be most welcome.
It reminded me of others who have done things about which they know nothing of the longer-term impact. In my last year at school, the Upper Sixth as it was called then, Miss Edwards became one of those influencers. The geography teacher who never actually taught me was a mainstay in that final year following my mum’s death in the preceding summer holidays. She would regularly give me time and space to talk. She was the one who asked for exam boards to take into account what had happened (I still got ungraded but her thought meant far more than that). She once asked me, ‘What do you want to become in the future?’ For reasons unbeknown to myself, although it probably reflected my loss of identity at that time, I replied: ‘I’d like to be well-known – not famous, just well-known.’ Hey ho, such are the workings of a 17 year-old’s mind.
Fast forward to two years ago and I moved from being ‘well-known’ – at least in the field of work I was in – to being ‘unknown’. It was a strange transition, but supported by a guiding principle.
One of the Bible verses that has been influential on my attempts to live out the faith in which I believe is: ‘But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.’ (Matthew 6:3-4)
Knowing that God knows what we do is sufficient. We are seen by God’s eyes. And God’s rewards (given not sought) are many. It’s why you wouldn’t have found my name on the website at work. It’s why the title of this blog (and my Twitter feed) is not my name (I struggle with the ‘About’ page, by the way… oh, there you are, I’ve just hyperlinked it so you know who I am…). It’s why I am influenced by St Benedict and in particular his teaching about humility.
We do of course live in a world which depends on people being known by name (after all, who on earth is Richard Frost – it’s no wonder he has so few followers). Knowing the name of a particular author, speaker or dare I use the word ‘celebrity’, can be helpful: we might be helped by what they do. Knowing a name is useful: hospital staff have it written on their PPE so colleagues know who they are. Our name is crucial to our own sense of identity – so often challenged as we travel through life and not least in this time of pandemic when many of us have lost something of what we do and who we are.
But it is God who knows what we do. That is sufficient.
Choosing new frames at the opticians is never easy.
Because I’m so short-sighted (-10.75), on a recent visit I had to resort to taking ‘selfies’ so I could see each of the contenders properly. Even then, the photos didn’t really tell me what they looked like. But, after gauging family opinions on the possibilities, and accompanied by my wife and an excellent practitioner, a further appointment settled on the right ones. Well, I hope they will be.
Now you may be thinking – oh, here he goes, trite message about how looking through the right lens to ‘correct our vision’ means we’ll see God more clearly.
And while there is truth in that, even the best specs don’t guarantee perfect vision all the time. Doing ‘all the right things’ doesn’t mean we ‘get it all right’ – and for me, that ‘corrective’, right versus wrong approach to Christian living is not only demoralising but misses the point about God’s astonishing love for us.
It reminds me of the story of the healing of Bartimaeus, a blind beggar in Jericho. Sat by the road, he hears Jesus approaching, calls out and, miraculously, his sight is restored (Mark 10:46-51).
For Bartimaeus, it was his faith in Jesus that enabled him to see clearly. But it wasn’t just about that.
That encounter is also about the question Jesus asked: ‘What do you want me to do for you?’
Imagine for a moment, Jesus asking you that question.
Possibly, like many of us, you may have a very long list of answers… You may be thinking, well I’ve asked you to do lots of things which haven’t happened… Our unanswered answers are tough at times, aren’t they?
It can be difficult to hold that apparent absence of response in tension with things Jesus promised: “Ask, and it will be given to you” (Matthew 7:7) and “…if you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” (Mark 11:23-24)
Bartimaeus. There he was. A beggar. An outcast. People always telling him to be quiet. He had no place in the presence of the new kid in town.
And afterwards… yes, he could see again. Yes, some would be amazed by his miraculous healing. But I guess he also remained a beggar and an outcast. And people would still tell him to shut up.
But perhaps, despite all that, his faith remained strong.
It can be like that for us: we receive some of the things we want, while other things remain difficult.
So, looking deeper, what of our faith – what do we want Jesus to do for our belief and trust in him?
You may like to find a quiet space.
Imagine for more than a moment, Jesus with you.
And Jesus says: “What do you want me to do for you?”
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