honour Archives • WORK. REST. PRAY.

Let’s be honest

‘Could you go and sniff somewhere else. This is a confined space.’

The remark took me by surprise. I could have understood it if I’d coughed. Humph!

My wife and I were visiting Kingston Lacy, a National Trust property while on holiday last week and admittedly, the path where I stood was less than two metres wide but it was outside. I’d been there ten seconds and would be for a further ten as Jane rejoined me.

As we walked on, he stood there. Umm… awkward. Confrontation or apology? Well, neither as it happened. We just walked on. Putting aside my own humphitude, the incident reminded me how Covid-anxiety is still very present as society awakes from its anaesthetised slumber. I felt sad for him and reflected on what might have happened in his life that sparked such a sensitivity to another’s innocuous behaviour.

It reminded me of a phone call I had with a very dear friend many, many years ago. A difficult situation had developed between us and a mutual acquaintance. ‘Let’s have some honesty here, Richard,’ she said. Ouch. I felt stung – more so than the incident above. It was accusatory. The implication that I was being ‘dishonest’.

In both instances, those speaking were under strain. Yes, they were being honest about how they felt. But they were upset. Their words arising from what was going on for them and not just about me.

A recent article in the Church Times recounted an interview with Jordan Peterson, a professor of psychology at the University of Toronto. Within it, he makes one of the most ‘honest’ statements about the church (that is the Christians who inhabit it) that I have ever read. And I have to say, in all honesty, I agree with him…

‘It may be it’s not reasonable to say to believers, you aren’t sufficiently transformed for me to believe that you believe in God or that you believe the story you are telling me… the way you live isn’t sufficient testament to the truth.’

Ouch.

And, of course, much as I agree with him so is his honesty true of me. That is perhaps the nature of such honesty: that it is uncomfortable. It makes us feel awkward and defensive.

Yes, I could have stood in a more considerate place. Yes, I could have handled the situation with my friend better. Yes, my life could be more reflective of my belief. We can all learn from being on the receiving end of another person’s honesty.

But what is uncomfortable for us also reveals the discomfort of others. Perhaps part of our response to such ‘honesty’ is to ask what’s going on for them? Because it’s probably not just about us.

Thank you for reading this post. Please feel free to share it with others and to subscribe for new ones.

Communication & Gentleness

The bride gave a speech. The two best men sang. The groom ate a marmalade sandwich during the signing of the registers and the 300-strong congregation ate cake and drank wine in church.

It was the wedding of the year. At least it was from our perspective. Thirty years ago, Jane and I were married on a cold winter’s day, the previous week’s heavy snow (a rarity in Devon) having only just moved on in time. It was the first wedding in a newly refurbished church after a devastating fire a few months previously. It was a different sort of wedding day – partly because I was and had been quite unwell for the previous 18 months but mainly because we wanted it that way. We’ve often done things a bit differently from what other people expect…

In the years since then, we have had two wonderful children and many happy times. Jane has moved on from teacher and pastor of school children to teacher and pastor within a Church of England Team Ministry. I from a fulfilling career to a rewarding next stage of life (via Buckingham Palace). There have also been many difficult times. The loss of three of our parents in the space of 12 months and a misjudged house move to the other side of the country, to name just two. Many other events have enabled us to love and to cherish, and taken us through sickness and health, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer.

Throughout all the years, our constant by-words have been communication and gentleness.

We have ‘failed’ in both on many occasions but they remain firm handles to hold on to when the storm is strong.

Back on Saturday 16 February 1991, we were two ordinary people (in, yes, a perhaps slightly extraordinary setting) making a lifetime commitment in the same way many millions of others had done so before and since.

We, like you reading this, like many others, are all ordinary people who encounter an extraordinary God. When Jane was ordained in 2015, she told the somewhat smaller gathering who met afterwards: ‘There are three people in our marriage: and the third person is God.’ Words that echoed those of St Augustine perhaps: ‘love means someone loving and something loved with love. There you are with three, the lover, what is being loved, and love.’

A God who is faithful and strong. A God who steadies the boat when the storm is strong. A God of the ordinary and a God of the extraordinary. A God of love – a love which is at times is very different from what other people expect or experience. The love that the disciple John knew all to well.

Recently, we have both been struck by some words of another great Saint, Teresa of Avila which provide another set of handles to hold to:

Think little, love much, do whatever awakens love.

Thank you for reading this post. Due to the amount of spam being received the comment facility on this site has been removed. If you would like to comment or offer your thoughts or experiences then please go to the new Work Rest Pray Facebook group.

Click here if you would like to have some material to reflect on during Lent &/or do join Jane and I for a Lent Course based on A Story to Tell.

All in a Day’s Work

‘Behind the scenes’ documentaries have been part of TV viewing for decades and, with the growth in streaming alongside hundreds of channels, there are a multitude of different settings for the cameras to spy on.

One series I’ve enjoyed recently has been Channel 4’s The Yorkshire Jobcentre. Given my own career of nearly 40 years helping people to find or remain in employment that may not be a surprise.

Up until 2003, I worked in a variety of settings of what is now the Dept for Work & Pensions including in Jobcentres. The programmes have portrayed both job seeker (often maligned as scroungers) and job advisor (often portrayed as unhelpful bureaucrats) fairly and respectfully, observing difficulties and progress, frustration and commitment for both alike.

I certainly recognised the spectrum of customers from the harder to help long-term unemployed through to the harder to help professional and well-educated, and from the unrealistically ambitious to the desperately lacking in confidence. Similarly, I was fortunate to work alongside very committed colleagues, rejoicing together when someone got a job – but yes, there were a few who stuck to rules as if they’d written them.

The series certainly echoed my experience of it being an honour and a privilege to have played a small part in the lives of so many. Watching people make progress is a wonderful thing.

This coming Sunday’s Gospel reading is the parable of the labourers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16). Like many of Jesus’ stories, it’s based on events happening in his time. An employer recruits labourers to work in his vineyard but to our 21^st century ears, this parable would raise the hackles of any business person or union representative.

Taken literally, the concept of people who worked one hour and people who worked a full day being paid exactly the same would not go down well – as indeed it didn’t with some of the labourers in the vineyard.

But that’s missing the point of the parable. And the point is not a literal interpretation of the story being told – beyond the fact that for those labourers, among the poorest in 1^st Century Palestine, working in the vineyard was a gift, a welcome source of employment.

One common interpretation of the parable is that the owner is God and the labourers are us; the vineyard is God’s kingdom and the wage that is agreed is not only the provision of our daily bread but also our salvation.

Rather than being unfair or unjust, God’s generosity transcends our human ideas of fairness. God is not answerable to the people and can do as he pleases with his gifts.

God’s gift is that everyone – rich and poor, powerful and powerless – receives the same.

In God’s economy, all of us are equally deserving so the reward is equal as well. The reward is not based on each person’s merit or quality or quantity of work but rather from the grace of the one who hires, the grace of God.

As God’s people we are to be those who work in the vineyard because it is a good thing to do rather than because we hope to earn merit or greater rewards or greater recognition by others.

That said, the work itself doesn’t have to be something highly visible or deemed to be more important than others – remember this parable features the poorest of society.

Whatever we do if we do it for the Lord and not for our own personal reward, we will bear witness to God’s kingdom and we will see God’s vineyard bearing fruit.

Will we remember them?

On 8th May 1945, with the end of war in Europe, the country celebrated (or at least this country did – others did not).

The previous years had seen horrendous loss of professional and civilian lives. Medical services overwhelmed. Businesses disrupted and closed. The economy shattered. Public movement limited. Many were unemployed, homeless, injured and seeking limited food supplies. Politicians were ridiculed and praised. There were heroes and villains. Many gave their lives for the common good. The country, the world, was never the same again.

‘At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.’

On 8th May 2020, 75 years on, we are called to commemorate (sadly, some say celebrate). While all around us… well, just read the second paragraph again.

75 years on from now, I doubt any will remember those who gave their lives for the common good in these current times. Indeed, apart from family, friends and colleagues, will any remember them in 25, 10, 5 or even 2 years time…?

At the going down of the sun and in the morning, will we remember them?

The last post reflected on a renewal of respect for those who serve the public in often unappreciated and oft-criticised ways. Public applause on Thursday evenings acknowledges the work of NHS and care staff together with others who are designated as key workers. As a society, we are, finally, recognising the essential role of refuse collectors, postal workers, telecom engineers, road repairers, supermarket assistants, domiciliary carers and care home staff, bus drivers and all whose work is often disregarded. Blessed are the meek.

Over 100 of those have died due to their work and many others have been attacked undertaking it. They probably knew the risks and took precautions but they didn’t set out to give so much.

Even in wartime, when many set out knowing they may not return, they and all around hoped they would. ‘My father had been killed in an air raid so for us the end of the war didn’t mean he’d be coming home,’ wrote one person recalling VE Day. ‘For many of us, the end of the war didn’t mean life would go back to what it was before 1939.’ (Radio Times 2-8 May 2020)

And so it is for many today, life will never be the same again.

In contrast, another contributor recalled the unexpected: ‘Before VE Day I had never been out after dark. The lights were on in all the windows, and, magically, I could see people inside… it was the beginning of something much more exciting – lights.’

And now candles burn in our windows from 7pm on Sunday. A light for those who work, who suffer, who grieve. ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.’ (John 1:5)

At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we may or we may not remember them but the light of Christ shines on all for eternity.

It’s not about me

In the paid work I used to do, I was often heard to proclaim, “It’s not about me”. No… it was about the work we were doing and, in essence, the hundreds of people who were making it happen. And it was usually other people who, very kindly, were mentioning my name and it all resulted in that never to be forgotten trip to Buckingham Palace. But at times it all sat rather uncomfortably.

So, as today sees the publication of Life with St Benedict, there is the honour of being chosen to have one’s jottings in print (and I am so grateful to all at The Bible Reading Fellowship (BRF) for making it possible, as well as those who have already supported and ordered it) but with books, of course, it’s often about the author too.

While there was the privilege of ‘self-concealment’ in my paid work, with a book it’s much more difficult. The name’s on the front cover… and on the back… and in five other places! No hiding this time… There will also be book signings (who, me?) and other publicity. Of course, yes, I do enjoy and thrive with the attention. But there will also be reviews – where any compliments will be as nothing in the shadow of one single criticism, I’m sure…

But in the end, it’s not about me. No… it’s about how God may use those jottings to help others grow their faith and deepen their relationship with Christ.

Life with St Benedict offers daily reflections on the Saint’s 6^th Century Rule for monastic living and how we can apply that ancient guidance to our 21^st Century life and work. There is a well-established scheme of daily readings to enable the entire Rule to be considered over a four-month period – and thus doing so three times in every year and Life with St Benedict follows that pattern. (There’s a short film on YouTube which says more about the book – he writes in a non-self-publicising way…)

In his own quirky and excellent book, Humility Rules (worth buying for the pictures let alone the words) the American Benedictine monk, Augustine Wetta writes ‘If you are really good at something, it is no act of humility to belittle your talents. When you do that, you just wind up insulting God, who gave you those talents in the first place.’

Unbeknown to my publishers who set September 20^th for release, there is a very appropriate part of the Rule that occurs in today’s reading. It’s one that I underlined when I first read the Rule some 12-15 years ago and it’s stayed with me ever since:

‘If you notice something good in yourself, give credit to God, not to yourself.’

We are allowed to feel good about ourselves. Knowing and naming those things reflects God’s gaze upon us. Such reflection balances out the more difficult aspects of our life and who we are. This is the balance of taking full responsibility for all we do or say which is wrong and giving God the glory for all the good within ourselves.

Teamwork matters

There’s a story about President John F. Kennedy visiting NASA headquarters. Introducing himself to a janitor, he asked what the man did. “I’m helping put a man on the moon!” came the reply.

Whether it’s an Apollo moon landing or England’s cricketers winning the World Cup, success is often all to do with teamwork. Behind the ones who gain the adulation are many others who play a part and they too are to be honoured and respected.

Success is also to do with attitude. In the last 15 years of my paid employment, I was fortunate enough to work in a team where 9 times out of 10 the default answer to any situation was ‘Yes’. Or at the very least, ‘Let’s look at how we can do this.’ By the same token, as we all know, there are many organisations and situations where the default answer is ‘No… no, we can’t possibly do that.’

Such attitudes not only influence success (or lack of it) but also define the culture of a workplace and the team who work there. Indeed, the same is true in any gathering of people: voluntary organisations, churches, social or sports clubs etc. There are people who say ‘yes’ – and there are plenty who say ‘no’!

Whether they are ‘yes’ people or ‘no’ people, when individuals or a clique dominate not only do others feel ignored, isolated or diminished but what everyone does suffers and at worse becomes dysfunctional. Communication deteriorates. Rumour outweighs reality. Skills are lost. Morale drops. People leave.

When the default answer is ‘yes’, successful teamwork is more likely to occur, but it’s important to be aware of what matters to both ‘yes’ and ‘no’ people.

So why do some people say ‘yes’ to everything? Perhaps they just want to be helpful? To feel they’re as good as others? To feel wanted and valued? Or, by contrast, do they have an inflated sense of self-importance?

And what about ‘no’ people? Is it because they’re just plain difficult or lack confidence in their abilities? Carrying hurts or pain from the past? Worries about the future? Or a deflated sense of self-importance?

“If you want something done, ask a busy person…” Well, yes but maybe not always. People who aren’t busy often want to be. (Busy doesn’t always mean someone has the right skills either.)

Those who always say ‘yes’ sometimes need to be protected from themselves. They become the ‘go to’ people whose approach can be “It’ll be quicker if I do it” or “I’m a team player – as long as you do it my way”. Often refusing or not seeking assistance, they overload themselves and, paradoxically, end up saying ‘no’ to others who want to help. ‘Yes’ people often need to learn to say ‘no’ (and be allowed by others to do so). ‘No’ people may need encouragement and support to know they are valued too.

The value of teamwork is that everyone plays their part. More importantly than that, though, is that everyone is allowed to and enabled to play that part. Equipping others to feel valued and part of the team is not only crucial but also honouring and respectful. Leaders aren’t the only ones to facilitate that – it takes humility from all to be part of a team. Everyone has different skills and abilities. Some are yet to discover theirs. Many need encouragement and support to do so.

As we’ve reflected upon before, Jesus chose a mixed bunch to be part of his central group of disciples. Many other men and women followed him too. They squabbled but they also sought to learn. Jesus showed them how to do some things and enabled them to do more. They weren’t as hopeless as often portrayed (it takes a lot of skill to be a fisherman, for example) but they were, like you and I, ordinary people (sorry if I’ve deflated your sense of self-importance by calling you ordinary…).

When Jesus calls ordinary people to do his work, to play a part in his team as it were, what an astonishing privilege that is.

Humble Leadership

When Manchester City beat Watford in the recent FA Cup Final, I probably wasn’t the only one to notice the reaction of Pep Guardiola, the City manager, as the fifth and then sixth goals went in. His head was in his hands. Was it embarrassment… or was he humbled by what his team had done for him?

And then, amidst the champagne, streamers and fireworks, as the victorious players held the trophy aloft and then ‘dancing’ in the way only professional footballers can, he simply stood back, watching. A time to let his team have the glory and the honour. ‘Hey, look at them, not me,’ he seemed to say. A sign of leading from within. A sign of humble leadership.

While we might long to see more humility in our political leaders, let’s consider another example of this exceptional gift.

A recent study of seven successful CEOs found they all identified a common theme: vulnerability. ‘Vulnerable leadership is humble leadership,’ wrote Catherine Llewelyn-Evans. ‘Able to acknowledge its own temptations, frailties, and limitations, it will not set itself above others, nor stand on its own importance (for example, when Jesus lays aside his robes to wash the disciples’ feet [John 13])… It is a kind of leadership which — released from its need to posture or impress — gives others permission to be vulnerable, and releases them from fear or guilt.’

Or as John Baldoni put it, ‘Humility is an approach to life that says, “I don’t have all the answers and I want your contribution.” Humility is… the acceptance of individual limitations.’

Humility is grateful for those contributions and expresses that gratitude. It also embeds the ability not just to say ‘I got that wrong’ but also to climb that sometimes elusive next step of ‘You were right.’

In the well-established daily pattern of readings from the Rule of St Benedict (reflections on which are in the book Life with St Benedict) on the day this post is published, 26 May, there begins a series of readings on Chapter 7 – a chapter which is all about humility.

In this longest chapter of the Rule, and using the imagery of a ladder, St Benedict helps us take steps towards what he calls ‘the highest summit of humility’.

Using paraphrases of what he wrote, let’s climb the ladder together, shall we…

Revere God at all times
Align our lives with God’s will not our own.
Listen to our leaders.
Do what God wants and listen to God when life is tough.
Admit when we get it wrong and receive the forgiveness that comes from doing so.
When we feel badly treated, insignificant, and no better than anyone or anything else, know we are always with God. And God is always with us.
Humbling ourselves and being humbled by circumstances helps us know we are precious to God.
Remember that the words and actions of others influence how we act and behave.
Be careful about what we say to others and how we listen to them.
Laugh – being respectful to others when we do so.
‘Speak gently, seriously and with becoming modesty, briefly and reasonably’.
Be humble in our actions and not just in how we think and feel.

Joan Chittister writes that this chapter on humility ‘does not say, “Be perfect.” It says, “Be honest about what you are and you will come to know God.”’

Humility in leadership – or any other aspect of life, for that matter – is an approach, a gift, which enables us to shout, ‘Hey, look at you!’ not ‘Hey, look at me’.

Gifts, Service & Faith

Writing this during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, a time when churches of all denominations across the world come together for joint services and events. A week to voice a common belief, albeit expressed in different ways.

Earlier this month, I had the privilege of attending an event for healthcare professionals (albeit I’m not one anymore) organised by the Catholic Bishops’ Conference (albeit I’m Church of England).

Arising out of their mental health project, this day of reflection and recollection took as its theme, ‘Gifts, Service and Faith’.

We reflected on the talents, skills and abilities we all have. “What is our motivation to use our gifts?” asked Bishop Paul Mason. “Some think ‘If I do this… God will look after me’ – but that is not the way. If we are always doing the good we feel we should be doing, we may be missing out on the good God wants us to do.”

“God loves, knows and serves us so we might love, know and serve him,” he said. “We are to express the exuberance of our love for God in how we live.”

This exuberance can be expressed in part through our love for and service of other people. But as another speaker recognised, what we practice doesn’t always equate to what we believe. “Theology isn’t written, it’s lived,” said Jim McManus, as he drew our attention to the words of St Paul in a letter to the 1^st Century church in Thessalonica:

‘But we appeal to you, brothers and sisters, to respect those who labour among you, and have charge of you in the Lord and admonish you; ¹³esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Be at peace among yourselves. ¹⁴And we urge you, beloved, to admonish the idlers, encourage the faint-hearted, help the weak, be patient with all of them. ¹⁵See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all.’ (1 Thessalonians 5:12-15)

In using our gifts in the service of others, Jim’s challenge was to ask: How true are St Paul’s words in your team and in your workplace?…

Respect those who labour among you (colleagues) and have charge of you (managers)… and admonish you (everyone & anyone, maybe)
Esteem them very highly in love because of their work
Be at peace among yourselves
Admonish the idlers
Encourage the faint-hearted
Help the weak
Be patient with all of them
See that none of you repays evil for evil
Always seek to do good to one another and to all.

… Umm. Marks out of ten for where you work?

The late Catholic Archbishop Basil Hume once wrote, ‘The motive for service must be love’and the 17^th Century priest and theologian, Ignatius of Loyola is accredited as writing that we are ‘To give and not to count the cost.’

Fact is, though, such service and giving is often very costly. You probably know how it is: those times when it all gets too much – and all we can do is count…

Or as St Paul wrote in a letter to the church in Corinth, ‘Love does not keep a record of wrongs’ (1 Corinthians 13:5). This love doesn’t keep a record of rights either…

It is an honour and a privilege to use all we have been given (for everything is gift) to love and to serve other people. By using these gifts and through faith in God, we can demonstrate the exuberance of God’s love for all people.

“Living faith works through love,” added Bishop Richard Moth at the event. “Faith is a gift: a living relationship with God. The Lord does not force it upon us nor are we to force that gift on someone else. We are to witness – often it may be silent: but it is often in the still, small voice that we hear God speak. Christ has shown himself to us, so we are to show him to others.”

What an honour and a privilege.

Being Honoured

“I don’t want to get to retirement and think, ‘Was that it?’”

Well, that was 20 years ago. Today, I got to retirement. That was it. And that was good. So good.

For most of the intervening 20 years, I’ve worked with the most wonderful team of colleagues. Caring, supportive and one with a common purpose. A team with a default answer of ‘yes’ – or at least, ‘let’s think about it’. Rather than the demoralising ‘No, we can’t do that’ attitude common in so many workforces. It’s a team which values each other for who they are, not just what they do. I know I have been very fortunate. It has been a privilege and an honour.

For many people, the only reason they know they’re doing a good job are the times when they’re not being criticised. Not that I’ve never been criticised. Far from it. I’ve upset people. I’ve trampled over some. I’ve poached staff from others. I’ve worked with difficult people. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been bullied, shouted at and disrespected. Everything that happens to everybody at some point or other. That’s working life. 41 years of it.

Yet many people are never thanked for the work they do or honoured for who they are. For me, though, these last few months have been humbling – and somewhat overwhelming. Nominated for a NHS 70th Anniversary Parliamentary Award (which I didn’t get) and a Lifetime Achievement Award from my employer (which I did). And then there was: ‘Urgent – On Her Majesty’s Service’. A letter from the Palace. Six weeks of silence. Nobody could know. When they did, the congratulations were overwhelming. 153 emails. 21 cards. A real honour and deeply humbling. All too much, though. I’ve only been doing my job.

Buckingham Palace last Friday and farewell lunch today. And it all happened again. Cards, congratulations and compliments. Both amazing days. Quite surreal at times. Asked by Prince William if I (me!) thought he (him!) was making progress in supporting employers regarding mental health. The farewell lunch gathered together over 50 people who have supported and taught me so much over the years. Another honour and privilege.

A generous farewell gift pays for a specially commissioned icon to be written (the technical term for icon painting) by Brother Michael OSB, Benedictine monk at Mucknell Abbey. It will be based on the famous 15th century icon by Andrei Rublev. The Trinity.

The icon depicts, from left to right, God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. The embodiment of Love. Seated around a table. At the front, an empty place. A place of honour and privilege – and not just for the honoured and privileged. A place at which anyone can sit.

Working or retired. Happy at work or not. Employed or unemployed. Parent at home, student or volunteer. Well or unwell. Feeling loved or unloved. Of faith or no faith. Whatever your situation. The place awaits you.

A place of honour and privilege.

A place to which you are invited.

Invited by Love to be honoured for who you are.

Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.

Love (III) by George Herbert

Retirement: Stopping & Starting

If I’d had £5 every time someone asked what I’ll be doing in retirement, I could have bought myself my own gold watch.

Play on repeat: ‘Writing books and blogs, learning the piano, photography, family history, U3A, joint ministry with my wife…’ But how upset I’d be if nobody asked. I am so grateful for and humbled by the interest and love shown in these last few months.

Preparing for the next stage of life – as I prefer to call it – started five years ago. You only get one go at this, I thought, and I want to make it work.

Having spent 30 years helping people with phased returns to work, I’ve taken a staged approach towards retirement. Five to four days a week three years ago. Three days since January. Changing the balance of life. Getting used to less structure. Less contact with people. Building new routines.

It’s worked. This writer approaches the next stage of life with a sense of calm. And for one for whom it is an elusive emotion, there’s even some excitement.

At work itself, the last three years have seen succession planning (a far too grand a title, really). We’ve crossed a few hurdles on the way. Many have helped in the process. That’s worked too. Achieving what we wanted. In full and on time. Recruiting replacements. Handing over to successors. Spending less time with immediate colleagues: enabling them to work together, develop and flourish. It’s going to be even better. Wow.

Unexpected, though, has been the return of ‘that Sunday evening feeling’. A loss of motivation sitting in tension with the calling and enjoyment of the vocation. Apprehension alongside anticipation. And a reduced irritation threshold…

A season of stopping and starting. The last client appointment. The last employer meeting. The last conference. The last training course delivered. The last team meeting. The last times of working with and learning so much from others. The last time I’ll see people who have meant so much to me. (Sorry. The hurts of history have made me sceptical of fond farewell, keep in touch promises.)

In all this, I’ve not been counting down the days. So this week’s realisation that there’s just six working ones to go came as a shock. The calmness shaken. The boat rocky. A strange time. The nearer it gets, the less believable it becomes. Such is the nature of change.

But it’s a time to give thanks for the privileges God has given. The privilege of making a difference. The privilege of playing a part in the lives of others. Seeing people make progress – especially in the small ways. Never ignore the small ways: they are always bigger than we think. The privilege of the next stage of life and all that will hold.

I’m writing this on retreat at Alton Abbey, a community of Benedictine monks in Hampshire. There’s a storm blowing outside. There’s one blowing inside too. But this is a place where the clock runs slowly. Where the silence of mealtimes is comforting. The routine of prayer is steadfast. The presence of God is everywhere. There’s sanctuary in the stillness. A place of stability in the stopping and the starting.

‘To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. Oh my God, in you I trust.’ (Psalm 25).

Play on repeat. It works.

‘To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. Oh my God, in you I trust.’