Lent and Liturgy

As Lent gets going, I find myself once again more immediately face to face with God. Some of my most profound encounters with the divine have come in the silence and reflection that this season affords, and one of my favourite services, the Maundy Thursday vigil, also falls during this time. I love listening to the choir chant Psalm 22 as the altar is stripped of it’s finery.

It was a stripped altar that first showed me the ‘point’, as it were, of liturgical worship, decorated altars and formally observing the seasons of the church year. I was at my parents for Easter, and decided to go to the local parish church, St. Michael’s, Flixton for Good Friday. I had been to the church before, but I had no concept of decorations on the altar changing, or even being removed. So when I walked into the church and saw the bare altar, with just a rough wooden cross propped up in front of it, I was dumbstruck. I still remember the feeling of utter desolation: where is he? Where has Jesus gone? The sense of loss, of something being missing, was physical, and from then on I’ve been on this journey with God that has combined liturgy and silence.

The cycle of liturgy gives an anchor to life, whether that’s stopping 2, 3 or 4 times a day to pray the offices or the weekly rhythm of Holy Communion. Far from causing words and prayers to lose all meaning, the repetition means that they seep into your soul, and can float to the surface as needed. They’re always close at hand. When the liturgy becomes familiar, you notice parts of it more. It wasn’t until I joined a church that consecrated and shared bread and wine, body and blood, on a weekly basis that it’s meanings became such a key part of my faith. I have come to feel increasingly awestruck that we are invited to His table, that each week we retell, recall and reenact those last moments in the upper room.

During Lent, these daily and weekly encounters with God take on new significance. This is desert time, when the ordinary pressures and fripperies of life are cast aside so we may gaze more intently on His face, may shelter more deliberately under the shadow of His wing. And as we do so, we move ever closer to the glorious cry: “Christ is risen!”

Frustrations

Welcoming a new class is always tricky, and my lot this year were no exception. I’m not ashamed to say that we had a bumpy few weeks back in September, but I’m also proud to say that lots of hard work bought a good deal of success by December – the kids had learnt lots, with some of the best assessment results I’ve had for a while. And I had also been learning, most notably patience. How to slow down, and live life as the children live it, accepting their individuality and their challenges.

Well, it feels like Santa stole all that hard work over the Christmas break. By the end of Monday, I wanted to scream with frustration at…well, children being children, I suppose. I’ve had to remind myself that they are not (for the overwhelming majority of the time) trying to wind me up on purpose. Instead, I am allowing their behaviour to wind me up, and I need to put that barrier back up, to say to myself: they are children. They have needs. It’s not about me. Breath. And pray.

I have a little daily calendar of inspiration in my classroom – a mixture of bible verses and other wise sayings and affirmations. Yesterday’s was perfect: “And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19) It was like a breeze from heaven to cool and calm me, and reminded me, after a bus journey spent rather frantically praying for patience, for anything to get through the day, that I can depend on God. That verse from Philippians doesn’t have any ifs or buts. It just says: all your needs. Amen.

Faith Confirmed

So I see in the press recently that Kate Middleton has been confirmed. Of course there are the usual grumpy old men telling us that “she did it more for convenience than from conviction”. As a late 20s woman approaching confirmation myself, I think it’s great to see examples of others taking on their faith in the public eye.

Faith is, ultimately, a personal thing. However, part of my understanding of confirmation is that it makes a personal faith into a public declaration – much as marriage is a public sacrament. It’s you as an individual standing up and declaring your faith before witnesses, showing them, before God, what is of value in your life. Probably the aspect of confirmation that I’m most nervous about is standing up in front of dear friends and making a proclamation of faith, and a proclamation that I will follow God’s ways, not my own. There’s no going back – they’ve heard me say it, and now I have to live it. Not that I’m unwilling to – don’t misunderstand me here – but making those promises takes on a whole new value when they’re made in church, in front of a congregation, as opposed to privately in my own prayers.

That said, I am hugely looking forward to being confirmed. It marks something important for me: there is power in standing before the bishop, my vicar, my church family, my friends, my family and saying, yes. Yes, this is what I believe. Yes, this is what I choose to follow. Yes, this is where my life is now. Following in God’s footsteps, not the world’s.

As far as I’m concerned, there’s no better place to be. And I pray that that would continue to be the reality, for all those preparing for confirmation or recently confirmed – including Miss. Middleton.

Welcome

Welcome to my blog.

The inspiration for both the title and the theme of this blog – Crossing Points – has emerged from a number of things that I have been reflecting on recently. The real impetus for creating this blog, however, came just a few days ago as I was reviewing my facebook profile. I had started to write, beginning “I am..” and then stalled. There seemed to be so much I could write there, in no particular order: a teacher, left wing, a linguist, a christian, an environmental activist (ok, so not quite yet, but getting there), a mental health patient, or client, or whatever they’re calling us these days, queer, crafty…you get the idea. However, I am none of these things in isolation: I do not change costumes in my life depending on which role I’m currently fulfilling. When I’m stood in front of my class teaching them about the finer points of 3D shapes, I am still a lefty. When I’m sewing a quilt, I am no less a mental health patient. My life, and the things I do, are made up of where these things meet, of the intersections, the crossing points.

If this is true of my life, then it is all the more true of the world we live in. Nothing happens in isolation, not any more (if indeed it ever did). A statement from the chancellor is not merely economics, it is the environment, it’s social justice – indeed, it can go to the very core of what we want our society to be. And so my intention with this blog is not only to chronicle the crossing points in my own life, but also to look at intersections in society and to examine the interconnectedness of all things. Our choices have consequences far beyond what we may imagine, and in a world where all people are linked, as if in a giant and immeasurably fragile spider’s web, we have a duty to examine our action and our inaction.

So sit with me a while, and don’t be afraid to voice your opinion.