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12 in 12: July

July 11, 2010


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Originally uploaded by MarkLeahReubenJude

Over on Ravelry in ‘The Yarn Yard’ group there is a 12 in 12 challenge happenning (A pair of socks per month for 12 months). I completed a pair of baby socks in June and now in July I’ve completed an adult pair! The first since before I was licensed as vicar here in Heath Hayes!! They are for someone special. I’ve prayed as I’ve knit and as ever the second sock was much much faster than the first.

As we have a baby due any day now I’ve already cast on my August socks and am hoping to get one finished before the baby arrives….. that is if I can leave behind my desire to cast on new projects!

I may fail in the September pair but that’s because it’s the baby’s baptism (all being well) and I have a special project I need to finish for that.

Fed up, tired, fat (huge) and imobile…just the usual pregnancy stuff. The good news is that if baby is like the previous three then we should have some exciting news within 10 days now.

Best get knitting that first August sock then hadn’t I?

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A final Sermon before going on leave…..

June 6, 2010

Luke 7: 11-17, Galatians 1: 11-end

Intro

Picture the scene: a funeral procession. A young man lies in an open coffin, carried by bearers. Behind walk the mourners. Half the city walk behind the coffin. But one woman walks alone. The young man’s mother. She already lost her husband, and she never remarried. Her son had been supporting her. Now she is alone, and without any way of supporting herself. This is 2000 years ago. An old woman couldn’t expect to find work. Widows were recognised as some of the poorest and most vulnerable people in society. In the law the people are constantly exhorted to care for the foreigners, the orphans and the widows, because these are the ones who need society to care for them. That the woman has lost her son so young is a tragedy. But that she is left a widow with no sons to support her is a disaster.

When Jesus chooses to intervene, to bring the young man back to life, it’s because he has compassion on her. Not simply because she is an old woman who has grieved too much already, but because she is about to be cast out from her secure life to become one of the most vulnerable people in society. He stops the procession. He brings the dead back to life. And everyone knows that God has visited them that day.

1.  Recognising God at work – transformation

How do we know that God is at work? Jesus raises the dead to life, and everyone knows that God is at work. But we don’t see many resurrections. It’s easy to look around the church and think that God isn’t here at all. No people rising from the dead. No miraculous healings. Nothing much that would make us walk away from church saying ‘God has visited us today’. But just because we don’t see miracles doesn’t mean that God is not at work. In our New Testament reading, Paul is trying to explain how he came to preach the gospel. What turned him from being someone persecuting the church into its greatest missionary?

It seems that some people were suggesting that what had happened was that he had listened to the teaching of the apostles – listened to Peter or James or John – and been convinced that this was the truth. Paul strenuously denies this. In fact he goes out of his way to point out that this isn’t true: he didn’t hear the truth from the apostles or from any human being. He heard the truth directly from Jesus in a vision. It might seem like he’s trying to blow his own trumpet a bit, making out he’s better than the apostles, but in fact he’s defending himself and his ministry against those who were suggesting he was just a Johnny-come-lately disciple who ought to drop his radical ideas and go along with what the others were doing. Stop making out that Jews and gentiles, slave and free, male and female are the same in God’s eyes. Just tell everyone to be good Jews.

Paul knows ‘his’ gospel, the gospel of salvation for all, is true. He knows that where other people, even the apostles, step back from that, then they’re failing to preach the gospel. But he needs to convince his critics. So he starts to talk about what God has done in his life. He was so fanatical about following the traditions of Judaism when he was younger that he was looked upon as wise beyond his years. He was so zealous that he committed himself to violent persecution of the Christians and to destroying the church. But God was already at work. He had set Paul apart before he was born to preach the gospel. He gave him a revelation and enabled him to understand the gospel as he meditated on that revelation for three years. Only after that did Paul meet the apostles. Only after that did he start to travel around preaching the gospel. And then, the church glorified God because of him. They started to say ‘God has visited us today’. Not because of someone raised from the dead. Not because of a blinded man seeing again. But because of a life that had been transformed by God. The persecutor had become a missionary. God was at work. When God is at work people change.

2.  Recognising God at work – in St John’s

It’s very easy to look around the church and say ‘God isn’t at work here’. We don’t see many miracles. We don’t see many persecutors becoming missionaries. But I want to ask this: Do we see many people who have changed? Do we see signs of God’s compassion on us? Do we see things that seemed dead coming to life? Do we see those that seemed blind starting to see? Do we see hope where we used to see despair? It’s easy to be cynical. It’s easy to think that God isn’t at work because he’s not doing what we expect him to. Or what we think he ought to. Maybe God isn’t bringing young people into church in droves. Maybe God isn’t fixing the church finances. Maybe he isn’t making everyone perfect. But if we focus too much on what God isn’t doing, we miss what he is doing.

When God is at work, we see him acting in compassion for the weak. We see him transforming people. We see him bringing hope out of despair, and life out of death.

When I look at St John’s I see people who God has compassion for. I see people who have been and are being transformed. I see people taking on new roles and new challenges they’ve never tried before. I see people deciding to do their bit for the church rather than feeling that their day is past. I see people admitting to the faults of the past and seeking to do better in the future. I see hope. I see new life. I see God at work.

Look for him. Watch for the signs in your life and the lives of those around you. Come to church expecting to see him at work. And maybe one day we’ll find ourselves going home saying to people ‘God has visited us today’.

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A lovely practical gift from a fab Administrator!

May 27, 2010

I was summoned across to the church office this morning to be greeted by this:

aww!  Lovely PINK box! and inside….

Some lovely practical goodies for the new baby.

The Church Administrator, Max, is having a well desvered week off next week and so we’ll not be working together again until after my Maternity leave.  She prepared this goodie box with her daughter Ellie!  Thank you so much for such a practical gift….can’t wait to be contacting you to say that baby is here!

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and back to something I’ve not done in ages!

May 27, 2010

As you can see I’ve been beavering away bit by bit over the last few weeks and months!  These are the last Angeltails that I ever cut out.  Finally sewn.  I’m gifting some and hanging on to others! :)

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Crafting : More Blankets!

May 24, 2010

Just waiting to hear when people have boy’s or girls now as I have the gifts ready!!  I have one more unisex one but that’s somewhere upstairs!

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and for a little girl’s nursery!

May 18, 2010



Quilt 3

Originally uploaded by MarkLeahReubenJude

I’ve made this. It’s my first proper attempt at quilting and isn’t pefect. It is however perfect for what I want and will be a lovely addition to our nursery!

I’ll show you more when she’s born as there are some personalised things that I’m not revealing until then…purely because people at church are guessing the name to raise funds and I’m not giving them the answer!

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Some knitting progress

May 12, 2010

I’ve just finished a small crochet pram blanket and cast on a special lace project.  It’s taken me 2 nights to do the edging and one repeat of the 24 row lace.  I’ve got another 6 to do before decreasing for the next part of the panel.  It’s a very special project for the baby and I’m knitting several accessories to go with it.  Watch this space for more updates…… and here is a picture of the first few nights knitting.

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and yes there is only one in there!

April 17, 2010



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Originally uploaded by MarkLeahReubenJude

Seriously folks, what is it about the vicar’s body that gives every person the right to comment?? I know pregnant women have a tough time and as an ordained woman it’s been tough before but there is a whole new level to being in this particular church and job that seems to give people liberty to make quite offensive comments. Especially when people laugh that baby girl is measuring small- something I do not find funny at all- small babies are not good news folks- please stop laughing that my daughter could be small. IT’s not ridiculous at all- and the size of my bump does not necessarily correspond to size of baby- hence why various health organisations no longer recomend regular measuring of the bump as a way of tracking growth.

I’ve had a couple of good suggestions on Facebook regarding ways to respond. I’m always in search of ideas though. So if you have any feel free to suggest!

So far I like ‘well afterwards I should be lovely and slim- what’s your excuse?’ and other than that I’ve had the urge to just be far less polite than that. *blush*

Seriously I love my body and that it can do this amazing thing of growing another life. I might have a big bump, you might have a fat nose, large bum or bald head…I still don’t take the liberty to laugh and point at you so I’d appreciate it if you gave me the same respect.

*rant over*

Apologies but I just had to get it out there that sometimes my parishoners are just darn rude and there is only so much being nce in return that a vicar can take before wanting to actually stand up for her own dignity.

:)

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A first try at a simple quilt!

April 15, 2010



I think this turned out just lovely! I hope the recipient likes!!

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Good Friday meditations

April 10, 2010

A joint effort- Leah’s structure, liturgy and music…Mark’s stark reflections.

Firstly a photograph taken by Leah on Monday evening of Holy Week after everyone had gone home… not great in focus but taken in the church, it was dark, and flash erased the shadow!!

Good Friday Order of Service 2010

The text not on the Order of Service is below.

Hymn – Come and see

  1. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”

Luke 23:34

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” He said it as they finished crucifying him, when they began playing games of chance to see who would get his clothes. When they had nailed him to the wood and hoisted him up, once the pain had subsided enough for him to speak and take in what was going on around him. And he looked down on a group of soldiers casting lots for a few clothes. A dead man’s clothes. His clothes.

Because that’s the moment when you’d realise. You were already dead. None of the soldiers and torturers was going to do anything more to you. Just leave you there nailed to a cross to die. Even your interest as a victim had faded now. They were more concerned with your clothes.  What would you do? What would you think? What would you say? Words of defiance? Or despair?

When he looked down on these men, the ones who had driven the nails through his hands moments before, who were now gambling to win his clothes, he looked not with hatred or judgement, still less with the detachment that comes from despair. This was a man who remained connected, caring, despite everything. He didn’t see evil-doers, he saw people trapped by evil they couldn’t escape or even understand. He didn’t want to judge them, but to forgive them. This was why he had come. This was why he was here. It wasn’t just the soldiers at the foot of the cross he said these words to, he said it to all of us. Because all of us have been like those soldiers at some time or another: inflicting pain on others without thinking. Looking on them as just a job to be done, as a way we can get something we want. Not seeing people. Not trying to understand their pain. Not looking beyond our own horizons.

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing”

Silence

Music- You led me to the cross by Matt Redman.

  1. “Woman, here is your son”

John 19: 26&7

To his mother: “Woman, here is your son.” To his best friend: “Son, here is your mother.” He said it as the crowds had moved away, the taunts had finished, the soldiers had finished divvying up the spoils. It wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t even very interesting. It was just long. It takes a long time to die. Like being born. Although there are moments of drama and there is certainly pain, a lot of it is just about the waiting. Casual bystanders had their fill of it after a while. The only ones who stayed were the ones paid to be there and the ones who couldn’t bear to leave.

What goes through your mind as you become accustomed to the painful logic of crucifixion? – The pain from the nails in hands and feet, from the open wounds from the scourging on your back against the rough wood, the burning pain from your arms suspended above you, the difficulty in finding any position in which the pain was relieved, and the slow realisation that this was to be the character of your last hours. There is time to become accustomed to it, time to wonder what would finally kill you – would you slip away slowly with your lifeblood, or quickly as you found yourself unable to breathe? Would you die from the infection of your open wounds? Or from dehydration as you hung nailed out in the sun? There is time to wonder how it will happen, to even long for it. To focus on anything else would require immense effort.

And yet he does. Not, at least for now, focusing on his great mission, the path that has lead him to this place. He focuses on the people still standing there in front of him. On Mary. On his mother. In the midst of his suffering, he recognises hers. She has known this moment or something like it was coming, told when he was a baby that a sword would pierce her heart because of him. Now, horrifically, she sees her greatest fears come true. And next to her stands the only one of the twelve who has not fled in fear. John. He stands there, perhaps unable to leave him. Perhaps unable to leave Mary. To these two, who he knows will find the days to come agonising, he gives the only thing he can: he gives them each other:

“Woman, your son.” “Son, your mother.”

Silence

Hymn – When I survey (celtic)

  1. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Matthew 27:46 / Mark 15: 34

“Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani?” “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” There had been three hours of darkness. Three hours. An unnaturally long time. Long enough to wonder what on earth it meant, this darkness, as the man hung and died on the cross. So when he spoke these words out of the gloom, four words after hours of silence, no wonder that it caught people by surprise. No wonder that they got the wrong end of the stick. They thought it was the end of the world. They thought the prophet Elijah was returning, the one who had gone up to heaven in a chariot of fire. Whoever they thought Jesus might be, they thought the greatest prophet in the world might be returning to save him.

They were wrong. Jesus wasn’t calling out for Elijah. But he like them recognised that this darkness was no freak natural occurance. It was a sign of the end of the world. The end of their world. The world they knew was dying, as surely as the man on the cross. And his death would bring it crashing down. The man hung and died on the cross, despised, rejected, tortured and killed, God turned away, and darkness fell. It was the end of the world. And Jesus, suffering and dying, was at the eye of the storm. In the silence, as the soldiers gathered worriedly around their fire, he was meditating on a psalm he had known since he was a boy.

The words he called out would bring it to the minds of any who knew their scriptures. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning?” It is a song of anguished hope, a song from the lips of a despised and afflicted man determined to trust in the future despite all that happens to him. A man who trusts that even though he suffers, a new day is coming, where the God who seems so absent now will be praised by all, and rule over the whole earth: “They will proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn, for he has done it.” This is what he meditated upon as he hung there in the darkness. As he hung there and God seemed far away and all he could feel was pain.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Music- Agnus Dei from Missa Pape Marceli by Palestrina

Veneration of the cross

Hymn – O sacred head

  1. “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit”

Luke 23:46

“Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit.” Jesus’ last words were words of trust. As he had prayed in the garden, he had drunk the cup of suffering he would rather had passed from him. He had obeyed his Father’s will rather than his own. It is on some levels easy to understand the human suffering of Jesus. Even if you have never experienced the level of pain he did, you know what enduring pain is like. But there is a part of his suffering that is truly hard to understand: the choice to suffer at all. For any normal person this choice does not exist. Once Judas had betrayed him, once the soldiers had seized him, it seems he had no control, no choice. He was bound, tortured, killed. Nothing he could have said or done would have convinced the High Priests to let him go. But Jesus was more than a man, he was God. When his disciples tried to save him from the guards by force, he refused, saying that a legion of angels would save him if he wanted it. When the bystanders taunted him with the invitation to leap down from the cross if he really were the Son of God, it was a more real temptation than they knew.

He had to choose to suffer, to choose to die. Because at any moment he could have refused to. He could have leapt down from the cross. He could have destroyed his enemies with a thought, never lifting a finger. He could have chosen not to feel the pain. He could have chosen not to die. He had strength more than human to call upon should he choose to use it. But he did not. To do that would be to betray the whole purpose of his coming. He had come as a human being, able to know pain, able to know doubt, able to know fear. He had come to be one of us. And he had to stay human until the end. That was his Father’s will – that he should be human. So he remained human, remained suffering, remained dying. He was human until at last he faced the most human of all experiences: death. God cannot die. But Jesus chose to die.

For all those long hours he had suffered on the cross, knowing pain, knowing the fear of death. Choosing to do so, choosing to be human every second, choosing to trust his Father every second. He had reached the end of his strength. He knew the end was near. He had endured the pain, the despair, even the darkness of his Father’s absence, and still trusted. There was nothing left to do but to go on trusting and die.

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Silence

Departure