This is my last post in this series. My writing often reflects my faith too. I am a Christian but that does not mean that I write off the rest of humanity, and I’m not saying that the majority of Christian’s do.
There was a story which always made me smile:
“St Peter was showing a new arrival around heaven and the man happened to see a curtained off area.
‘What’s that for?’ the man asked.
‘Ah’, said St Peter, that’s to divide off the Exclusive Brethren. They think they are the only ones here.'”
This story happens to sum up my dilemma regarding main stream church. Having taught reception classes with over 50% Muslim children, just at the time I was involved in the most evangelical, charismatic church I have ever attended. As I sat reading a story at the end of the afternoon, a sea of tiny faces looking up at me, expectantly and trustingly, I realised I couldn’t believe in a God who didn’t love them all dearly. Yes, I had read about Muslims converting to Christianity, but was sure there were as many the other way around.
Here’s one of my favourite hymns around that time, ‘How great thou art’ sang beautifully by Carrie Underwood:
Isn’t God bigger than the box we, all the world over, try to put him in?
Even with this dilemma in the back of my mind, I am a great believer in prayer. Mind you, I find it easier to pray for others than myself. I attend church from time to time too. My writing often reflects my struggle to rationalise these thoughts, in a quiet but not a preachy way. I was once asked by a Hindu lass, who I was following on Twitter to join in for a world day of prayer for the Syrian war. I sent the message to my sister in France for her church, notified my church locally and messaged an RC person in Bedford. I found the whole day very powerful, and not long after the main war was over. Who knows if we made a difference? I like to think so.
During Covid I had my own personal battles, with my parents both struggling to survive down in Bedford, both suffering from various degrees of dementia. Until that point my sister and I alternated visiting monthly for a week at a time, sometimes more. Then nothing. The guilt and panic of not being there was intense and I don’t think I’ve ever forgiven myself, even though our main reason for moving north was for my husband’s health. between us we rang every day, arranging food parcels and deliveries, which were not always appreciated. A tough time.
During that time I must have attended more on line zoom services that I have in a lifetime, our church here in Scotland, churches in Bedford, Iona worship and even Canterbury then, later on during the pandemic, my sister’s church in Bordeaux too.
I also stumbled upon Celtic Worship and can thank Steph Mc Cleod from the bottom of my heart. ‘In Christ Alone,’ and ‘The Celtic Blessing’ ; Just beautiful!
Music like this helped me through the most difficult time of my life.
And finally I would like to share with you two poignant forms of worship on beaches, one down in Coverack in Cornwall and the second up here in Fife.
I Coverack, on Good Friday, they lay a stone cross on the beach, which is decidedly eerie peered at through the high tide water, to an unknowing visitor. As you lay each stone you lay a burden down and as the tide washes in it washes away that burden. Such powerful symbolism! Here’s one we made in Fife:
Finally, at a moving and uplifting service here on the beach, early Easter Sunday morning each year, when the sun usually shines, is Here I am Lord.
We are always treated by a bacon roll and blether in the church afterwards. Mind, body and spirit!
I still turn to YouTube for uplifting services, choruses and hymns from time to time to help me to centre, and yes, to be creative.
In summing up, I feel more in tune with Iona worship than with any main stream church, either up here in Scotland or down in England. Why? The ways in which there is always a focus on the environment, the natural world around us, suffering and hunger whoever it is, its pains as well as its joys. In each service we remind ourselves of Jesus’s words:
“I tell you, if these (the people) become silent, the stones will cry out!”
Diana Jackson 