Every so often someone comes to the door of the Rectory. It’s always a whole parish occasion and is something to be celebrated, even if it doesn’t feel like it at the time. It’s not just about the priesty guy, it’s about every member of the congregation and community when this happens. Ultimately it is the priest and parish who come away the wealthier and more blessed.

This is how I would write up one of these ‘parish events’. I have fudged some of the details to protect the innocent.

You would have to call him a crumpled man. Dishevelled in appearance, his posture was stooped and not just because of his physical ailments. He had that hangdog droop because of the emotional weight that was cast like a lead coat over his shoulders.

We chattered for a while and he told me his story, or part of it. Can you ever really tell your whole story in the space of one conversation and are we ever really completely aware of our own story? Others will always see things we can’t see.

Impoverished is another word to describe this gentleman. It wasn’t just dollars or lack of them, it was also a dearth of family, friends and community. He’d been addicted, bashed, ignored and incarcerated. There was nowhere left to go. This was the absolute bottom of the pit. With every pretence and facade stripped away, things had never been clearer or more sharply focussed for him. And all that seems sad, and it was, but there was also a chat about tomorrow.

When our concrete certainties lie demolished around us and we are left to play in the ashes and rubble of our humanity, then the work of our redemption can begin. May it begin with me.

We could be heroes

When I first read the gospel for today my thoughts zoomed in on this verse.

“And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.”

There is something healing when we are physically touched by another. It’s one of the things I miss not only in COVID times but also because a minority of my colleagues have abused the privilege of touch and their position of trust.

Once upon a time it was quite acceptable for a sad person to sob on my shoulder at the graveside. That is no longer the case and I am sorry that a few have stolen this privilege. Nowadays  clergy have to be super vigilant, careful and sadly we might seem a little distant and cool.

But back to the gospel reading. It’s is very true that when you give yourself pastorally to another power does go out of you. But this allows miracles to happen in all sorts of guises.

I reckon The Master would have been exhausted after all that healing.

I also reflected that it would be great to have super powers like Jesus.  Think of the good we could all do. No more need for RAT tests, IV drips and ventilators. Just a quick prayer, a laying on of hands, some holy oil, a blessing and you’re all sorted. A superhero to the rescue

When we think of the sort of person that would be a superhero the image we might conjure up is someone who is able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, is faster than a speeding bullet, has a long flowing cape and might wear their underwear on the outside. Someone invincible, super tough, impervious to feeling. More resilient than teflon and indestructible as a cockroach. Someone who can heal 99.9% of the people 100% off the time.

But then the gospel reading goes on and we get the beatitudes. Matthew also has a very similar version of the beatitudes. These sayings or beatitudes  elevate the most unusual and unexpected people to the status of superhero.

Blessed are you who are poor,
Blessed are you who are hungry
Blessed are you who weep,
Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you.

So it is the poor, the hungry, the weeping, the defamed and hated that are the real our super heroes. These are the powerful ones, these are people we turn to when life drops unpleasant messes upon us from a great height.

This doesn’t sound right in our slick 21st century way of thinking. So let me try to explain.

The people who have ministered most effectively to my tears are those who have known the power of tears themselves.

The one who has ministered most powerfully to me in my sinfulness, is the one I know to be a cheeky, grubby brat who personally understands what forgiveness is really all about.

It is those who have known exclusion and prejudice who have confronted me most efficaciously about my own blinkered perceptions.

It is not the slick smooth hand of the professional that I need when mine is mucky and bleeding. It is the pierced gnarly calloused hand of The Master Carpenter that I want to reach out to and grasp when I am smushed.

Or to use  another analogy. It is the alcoholic who has not had a drink for 11 years, 5 months, 3 weeks and 24 days who can be most effective to the person who has just admitted to being an alcoholic.

Part of this upside down puzzle is because those who are broken and tearful and hungry…  and know it, come from an unconquerably strong place of authenticity. There’s no dress ups and pretending when you are sobbing. There are delusions or pretensions when you know you have fallen from grace. Hunger cannot be fudged. There is no charade with poverty of spirit or possessions. This is it. Naked, raw humanity swallowed up by God’s all consuming grace. His unquenchable love does not stay away from our ugly bits, but rather gathers us into His loving embrace to redeem, to sanctify, to make us whole and turn us into angels and messengers of good news.

Now that my friends, is real power. That is real authority. It is far more effective, far more lasting, far more exciting and far more impressive than anyone who jumps tall buildings and can’t dress themselves properly.

In today’s gospel it’s almost as if Jesus is saying well

“Yes, all the whizz bang healing and exorcisms are one thing, but there’s something else going on as well. Something just as important and vital. He looks at us as he looked at his disciples and he says

Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you,
and when they exclude you, revile you,
and defame you on account of the Son of Man.

And if we took a deep breath, looked into his eyes and said

Yes… I am poor
Yes….I am hungry
Yes …I am weeping

Then we could be heroes, not just for one day, but forever ever and ever. Amen.

There are many wonderful things about celebrating a Harvest Festival. We do this each year at St. Peter’s Glenthompson and all are invited. Folk bring their produce and we gather together to celebrate that when so many have so little, we have so much to share and celebrate. The bounty is then auctioned off and there is wine, mirth, joy, giggles and food.

I look forward to this annual event for many reasons, not least of all because it gives me an opportunity to engage with people in an informal setting.

But there are other reasons.

In an era where we have succumbed to the false gods of data, fear and division, we have this refreshing expression of collegially. We learn again that we have more in common than what separates us. We are better than the deep divisions of suspicion that sometimes make us grumpy and irritable and which turned the humble loo roll into a deity to bow down to and fight over.

So we gather and give thanks. We come to be nourished not just from the generous bounty of the earth and produce of the kitchen and juice of the grape and the delectable things that emerge from the oven.  But  we are nourished most effectively from the jocularity and engagement one with another.

We do not worship the God of data and death. Instead we look into each other’s eyes. We hear the unprovoked and uninhibited laughter. These are our ‘hymns’. We join in with and celebrate with, the God of the party. The God of abundance. The God who calls us to look not only at what we generously have on our table, but also to reach out to those who have never known any of these things.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

Today’s gospel reading reminded me very much of the reading from Ecclesiastes.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

The reading goes on for another half dozen verses listing just about every possible thing you can do.

A time to listen to the homily and a time to snore.

A time to talk with the Master, a time to listen to Him. A time to go to the pub and a time to refrain from going to the pub and so on it goes…

In today’s gospel reading you see that it is divided so that one phase transitions neatly into the next.

When the story opens Jesus sees two empty boats at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets.

So the time for actively fishing has ceased and the time for washing nets has started.

The crowds are eager for a few wise words from Jesus. So the time for listening has begun. The crowds are so big that the logistics demand that Jesus get into a boat in order to properly address the mob. So you see what’s happened here. The Master can see that having a quiet fireside chat on the sea shore just isn’t going to work. He’s spotted the empty boats and sees a solution. He’s  a quick thinker or maybe he had this all worked out over breakfast.

Notice please that Jesus chooses his boat very carefully and purpose-fully. He wants to teach in Simon’s boat.

We’re not told what Jesus’ sermon was, but it must have been a rip snorter because  no-one starting snoring or got out their rotten vegetables.

This ‘homily teaching’ phase ends and we transition / begin something new. This next phase is a bit scary. To put out into deep water. Deep water in the gospel is more than just 60 fathoms. In the gospels deep water is also the place of death and new life. It is the place of uncertainty and danger. It is the place of challenge and adventure.

‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’

Simon has misgivings.

‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing’.

It’s almost like…

“Yeah well we tried that…and it didn’t work” but Luke has Simon as compliant. “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.”

Did you spot the shift? Simon is not the boss of the fishing anymore. Jesus is. Simon has relinquished his control and the corporate decisions are now made by Jesus.

And when that shift, that transition happens, when Simon allows it to happen, the results surpass all expectations and are beyond belief.

“When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.  So they signalled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink”.

There was a time of dearth when no fish were caught, the night time which again is symbolic. It’s now daylight and it’s the time to catch lots of fish.

The next phase or station could be called ‘A time to confess and a time to follow’.

Simon has a secret. He is incredibly guilty about something.

And we know this because when he sees the huge haul of fish he drops to his knees saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’.

It must have been something he felt really terrible about.

Jesus response is not

“Well yes Simon, that’s true. You are an absolute stinker. A complete rotter.”

Rather Jesus response is

‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’

So Simon has a new career. There was a time to be a fisherman and now there is a time to be a fisher of people.

When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him. The key word here is everything. You can’t cherry pick the nice bits of discipleship.

Odd, isn’t it… That Simon’s CV has he perceives  it is a terrible document with a big black mark on it. An ominous splotch. But from Jesus’ point of view this is exactly the sort of person he wants to apply. Someone who has the integrity and honesty to own up and say ‘I sure botched that up’.

So the new recruits leave behind the old way of life and begin a new way of life. This most significant of changes can only happen when they, like us, accept the invitation to leave behind our misplaced guilt and follow ‘Him’. Otherwise we are left in the nighttime catching nothing and washing redundant nets.

There is a time for everything,

    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

A time to listen - a time to speak

A time to catch nothing - a time to catch lots of fish.

A time to confess - a time to follow.

And that time is now!

I was reflecting that the world has changed forever and we cannot snap back to exactly how things were a couple of years ago.

Masks seem likely to be our everyday fashion accessories. They are tricky and as with most things there is a down side and an upside. The downside is that folk are not as easy to recognise and you have to look a little closer, maybe ask the self effacing, embarrassing question.

So what’s the upside? The upside is that we are doing our very best to protect each other. There are also some pretty zany and creative styles and prints. Some of us have great creative genius and its good to see it on show and celebrate it.

But there is also something else going on with masks. I look at it this way. I see masks as a not so subtle reminder that the person before us is more than their outward features. We have to look beyond the masked face to the real person who is more than just a smile, a grin and a few facial muscles.

This can be hard work sometimes. It is not always easy and some of us for very understandable reasons, often hidden reasons, have masked ourselves in other ways.

But always, the undisclosed is well worth getting to know and enjoy. Over time they, like you, will shift and evolve so there is always something new to learn and gasp at.

The quirky bit is that as we work at getting to know the person on the other side of the mask, we too grow, change and develop. We become more accessible and delightful. In our wrestle to get to know the other person, our mask slips and people see us as never before.

On Sunday January 30th at 10:30am, it will be a pleasure to dedicate and bless a window at Christ Church Hamilton. This is a lovely window of Christ the Good shepherd and if you are ‘COVID comfortable’, you are welcome to this celebration.

In the window The Master looks straight out at us as does the sheep at his feet. There are other sheep in the window and the backdrop is one of our green Western District plains.

As well as admiring the craftsmanship and the deep appreciation of the person who has generously donated the window, there are a couple of other things going on.

You can look at the window and explore the symbolism of the picture. The good shepherd does in fact hold us close even though it may not feel like it at this time.

The Master does walk with us, leads us and encourages us. He trudges with us in these green and pleasant lands that we enjoy in this part of Victoria. The sheep that Jesus holds also looks straight out at us to cheekily invite us to do what he has done. Jump straight into the arms of the Good shepherd and rest securely in comfort and with joy.

But you can also look through the window. Where does all this point you to? Or, what deeper truths does it launch you into?

That we see dimly and sometimes darkly a friend that engages us, taunts us and draws us in. The aim is not just to admire the art work, but also to become the window yourself; an image, an icon, a shepherd, a nurturer and welcomer. We do this so that others may see through us the one who always stands with us …The Good Shepherd.

A little known holiday story from our time away in December.

Jeanine and I had booked into one of those Air B n B homes at Buninyong. We find the house OK and thanks to a lovely photo we find the keys exactly where they are  supposed to be. We go in, plug in our tired phones, drop the bags, walk through the house, go to the loo, all the really important stuff.

There is a very polite sign asking us to take off our shoes when inside. We cheerfully oblige. The house is impeccably clean and lovely. We leave the keys carefully in the fruit bowl on the kitchen bench. Gees we’re good!

We go outside to explore the large back yard and the grass tickles our naked feet. When we come back to the door we realise that we have locked ourselves out.

Then I remember that my Ipad is in the suitcase in the boot so I manage to extract it from amongst the laundry and other unmentionables. But of course there is no wifi to connect to.

Our phones are inside and so we have no way of contacting our host.

So I go next door. The driveway is blisteringly hot on the soles of my feet. A very kindly gentleman phones our host for us. Our host is not answering but we do leave a message.

I also have the car keys and go down into the township of Buninyong and ask at a cafe if I could ‘borrow’ some of their wifi. In the nicest possible way they explain they have no wifi. Undaunted, I go across to the chemist. They eye my bare feet  suspiciously as I pour out my sorry little story. The shop assistant has genuine compassion… I think, but does not know the password. She suggests the supermarket. I take my turn in the 12 items or less aisle and repeat my tragic tale. She doesn’t know the password either, but if I went to De Soza park, there is free wifi there. So off I go and it is true! I send a message to my host and then return back to the house to find my ever patient Jeanine waiting. Half an hour goes by and the neighbour comes over talking to our host on the phone. Our host is giving directions to the neighbour as to where the spare set of keys is hidden. At last! We are sure to get in now. But the keys are not where they are supposed to be. I speak to our host and he explains that he is down at the beach. By now I am doing a little jig and my GP would be grumpy with my blood pressure.

However, our host assures me that his local family have keys and that we will not sleep on the streets. I promise to log on again at 4:00pm to see what the score is. At 4pm there is no message but at 4:05pm there is a note to say that our host’s sister is bringing some keys. So 2 and half hours after arriving we are let in. We apologise profusely and are sorely embarrassed.

So what did we do for two and half hours? Well we played a nice game on my iPad and … umm …well we did nothing.. Nothing at all. It is true that this nothingness was enforced upon us, but in the end it was kinda nice for a couple of reasons

First it gave me an insight into those who might seem disreputable but actually have heaps of other stuff going on in their lives. I know nothing about who they are, where they’ve come from or why they might be dressed in scootchy holiday clothing with nothing on their feet.

But this enforced chunk of ’do nothing’ worked its own magic. Surely that is what one is supposed to be doing on holiday or holy days.

Remember where we started?

Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you.

That’s only the first verse. This commandment gets far more editorial space than any of the other commandments. Here’s the rest of it.

For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns, so that your male and female slave may rest as well as you. Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day.

The wisdom of this very ancient commandment, also rather friendly advice, is indisputable. You are a far better person to everyone around you, to yourself and to God, when you plot and plan to have some space where you simply do nothing. It doesn’t work  as well when you lock yourself out of your accommodation  and it’s dropped upon you from a great height.

An ordinary loving

Have you ever wondered about the happy couple in today's gospel reading? Here is one very dodgy, totally unsupported, unsubstantiated, apocryphal but charming story about them.

They first met at Passover. He was shy and awkward and so was all the more attractive for his lack of pretension. She had a winning smile and big dark eyes. At some point while the prayers and readings droned on, their eyes flitted across the room to each other and in that age old magic that has been around for centuries and yet is always fresh and exciting, a new chemistry began and lives were changed forever. Ruben and Milka courted furtively, secretly and passionately until they were the appropriate age. They inevitably became engaged with much dancing, wine, laughter and at last in public.

The whole extended family would be invited to the wedding which would last for several days and there would be much rejoicing and dancing and wine.

Milka was a distant cousin to Elizabeth, who was a cousin to Mary and so Mary, Jesus and his friends were invited. Our gospel  tells the story of Jesus beginning his ministry at Cana at the insistence of his Mum. Everyone is pretty much oblivious to the shortage of good grog. Certainly Reuben and Milka had other things on their mind, as well they should at their wedding reception.

But what happened to Reuben and Milka afterwards when all the guests had finally dispersed back to their homes?

Theirs was an ordinary loving, an ordinary life. There was pleasure and delight and most of the time not much seemed to happen. There was the daily routine of eat, sleep, work. Reuben would help with his dad's olive grove and tend the motley herd of sheep. Milka would weave and bake and one day seemed pretty much like another. But always there was a daily walk along the olive trees in the cool of the evening. Not much was said in these strolls; the time together spoke for itself and all that needed to be said was said by Milka and Reuben just being together. There were happy days and some less so, but always this walk to seal the day with a kiss of silence.

That was until Milka began to suffer with morning sickness. Reuben was ecstatic of course. A proud father to be. An heir to carry on the family name, inherit the olive plantation and build up the herd.

Milka in her unrelenting vomiting and nausea was not as cheerful.

“But darling, it will pass” cooed Reuben as Milka ran from their tiny home for the third time in the hour. And when Reuben tried again to tell his beloved how wonderful it was all going to be when their son arrived (of course Reuben knew it was gong to be a son) Milka let her angst be known. In harsh, understandable words that could not be retrieved, she rattled off a long litany of angst that bewildered, frightened and pierced Reuben. “I hate you sometimes” were some of her words. There was no walk down to the olive grove that night, nor the following night. Silence wrapped herself tightly around the couple and stifled any prospect of conversation.

Two days later when Milka was again expelling her hard won breakfast, there was a gentle caressing hand on her shoulder and a whispered ‘I’m sorry’.

It was an ordinary loving.

The walks down to olive grove continued although a little slower as the Milkah burgeoned with new life. Oopsee arrived 7 months later. The labour was fraught but fruitful. This time Reuben knew to just let his hand be clasped and simply be there. They enjoyed their daughter Oopsee as Oopsee enjoyed them. There were the ordinary sleepless nights, the worries when Oopsee got sick and when she nearly fell into the well.

It was an ordinary loving and an ordinary life.

And always the walk around the olive grove in the cool of the evening. All three of them now at different gaits and with different conversations.

At one level Reuben, Milkah and Oopsee’s life was unremarkable. Their loving was ordinary, their life was humdrum. I tell you this fictitious story to make the point that in their ordinariness Milkah, Reuben and Oopsee were anything but ordinary. They were spectacular  in their endurance, their patience, their contrition, their honesty and their grit in simply holding on together when everything else was unravelling around them. Even when they didn’t like each other very much, they still loved each other and that my friends is an exquisite and precious commodity. It is extraordinary.

Today is the last Sunday of The christmass season. The manifestation season or showing forth would be better words. God comes to and loves us in our ordinary and mundane, in a mucky stable, in tears and laughter, in feasting, in morning sickness, in walks in the cool of the evening and the lingering looks over a candle lit table.

And if you want to see something remarkable and extraordinary then all you have to do is look at an ordinary wedding photo. The water of our ordinary life which we think is pale, insipid and colourless, is in fact colour full, potent and makes our heart glad and it God’s heart very glad indeed.

Whilst cleaning out the widow found a letter that she had written years before.

“Dearest Bryon, I feel as though I have walked a long way to find you and the going has not always been easy. There have been some sunshine moments where the path has been luscious and I have slept soundly, joyously and easily beside you. But there have been some dark nights as well where I have stumbled along some rocky roads. These nights have been very chilly and my loneliness has been relentless and punishing. I have ached for you and believed that I had lost you forever.

Now, on our tenth wedding anniversary, I finally understand that while you seemed a long way from me, I can rest secure in the knowledge that you had already found me a long time ago”

I think about this letter, or at least the truth it generously offers, when the going seems harsh and unpredictable.

The Master sometimes seems especially close and its all bottles of pop, mangoes, sunshine and roses. But it is also true that there are black nights and stony roads. And far from enjoying the real presence all there seems to be is real, complete and total absence.  There are times when the ache is palpable.

I console myself with the sure and certain knowledge that He has already found me a long time ago. This simple but incomprehensible truth is all that is needed to bring Him into focus. I understand that we have always been, and will always be, inseparable.

The widow read the letter again while unstoppable  tears gushed down her cheeks. But they were not tears of sadness, but tears of joy and the very deepest gratitude.

So we close the door on 2021. For most of us it was a complex year as we grappled with the swift changes and different faces of people behind the masks. It was a year that stretched us in ways that are not clear to us yet. My guess is that it will take five years of living with COVID before we can look back with any clarity and hindsight to see what 2021 really was like.

Now it would be easy to slam the door shut on 2021 and say ‘Toodle oo’, ‘Good bye’, ‘Good Riddance,’ or another choice of words which is best left omitted here. But there were some good things. People fell in love, got married, had children, nurtured pets and chose to forgive. And there were other things as well. The things we learnt that aren’t so palpable. So before we close up on 2021 perhaps we might look back and reflect on these things.

We learnt that we could be resilient people. Well, we had to be didn’t we? We learnt that we could be flexible and when the challenges came and socked us in the right eye and then the left, we learnt that we could be quite magnificent. We learnt that it was OK to ask someone much younger to help us with our phone and that there was no shame if we didn’t get it right the first time. Many of our contemporaries were going through exactly the same torment. Asking for help can actually be quite liberating and that to be able to help or listen, is always an enriching experience.

So by all means close the door on 2021 as you should, but be sure to take these hard earned lessons with you into the room we will call 2022.

From expectation to realisation to manifestation.

The people had obviously heard about John the Baptist. You don’t get excited and filled with expectation over something you have never heard of. They are all up to speed about this kooky guy in the wilderness and what’s more they had spread the message. They had spoken about him. It would have been fun to catch part of this gossip circle and this made me think.

Do we gossip the gospel? Do we hear the Master being talked about, do we talk about him to others?

Do we point others to Jesus? And like St. John the Baptist…do we know that it has never been about us, that it has always about Him?

Are we good at waiting for him to manifest himself?

They talked about what John the baptist wore; camel hair coat and two tone leather belt. What every fashionable prophet will be wearing this summer. They chattered about what he ate; wild locusts and honey. Maybe not a health pyramid,  a rainbow on a plate, but all the basic five food groups represented there. And they muttered the things John the baptist said.

In Matthew and Mark much of what John the baptist said was ticking people off and telling them to get their stuff together, for there was hope even when people get it wrong.

But in Luke’s gospel things are slightly different. Much of John the baptist’s tirade is omitted. Instead Luke has John the Baptist do three things.

First, John the Baptist tells the people that he is not the messiah. He quashes that rumour. “I baptise you with water; but one who is more powerful than I am is coming;”

So John knows his place. He understands the pecking order and that Jesus is at the top.

Or put it another way. John knows that it is not about Him. It is always about the one who comes after him.

Secondly, John the Baptist points the people to the Messiah.

Third he baptises Jesus.

From expectation to realisation to manifestation.

Did you notice that the people are “filled with expectation”.

They are very hopeful. Brimful of expectation.  And its all the people. It’s not just a minority or handful of people. All the people are questioning, hoping, expecting, that at last John the Baptist might be … you know… Him.. the Messiah.

Some things to take away from all of this.

Expectations are all sweet and dandy but there is a dark side to them.

Think for a moment of the expectations that we put on others and you wouldn’t have to think too far back to some of the people in our sporting circles. Folk who we look up to and who had spectacular falls from grace.  And while their actions might be less than desirable I am open to be convinced that the media is helpful in healing what are obviously painful dilemmas.

There are expectations that others put on us. Some subtle, some not so subtle, some appropriate, some perhaps misguided.

There are the expectations that God places on us and these are gentle. All He asks is that we be the people He has called us to be. Just to use the gifts He has generously given to His glory and not forget the source. To rejoice in ourselves which changes our perception of ourselves and others and therefore must  change our actions and words.

There are the expectations that we place on God. We expect him to sort out the Middle east, find a cure for COVID and heal great aunt Flo’s lumbago all by breakfast time.

But by far the most crushing expectations are the ones we place upon ourselves and this is not what God wants at all. It is detrimental to ourselves, to others and in the end, the inevitable disappointment must send us spiralling downwards to hell. The place where hope and love are absent.

Another type of expectation to have a think about

Are we filled with expectation when we are tootling along to church?

Time was when I couldn’t wait and my shoes would be shiny and my heart a flutter and I understood and was thrilled that in an hour’s time simple bread would become the body of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. That a change would occur. An objective real and tangible change.

Things are different now.

Like a marriage, an old friend who you know is always reliable and trustworthy. Someone who is  delighted to see you, who will receive you warmly and welcome because you know that he is just as pleased to see you as you are to see him.

Perhaps this year we should unburden ourselves and others of expectations. Perhaps 2022 will be the year we  realise that we don’t have to live up to our own expectations or the expectations that others put on us. We should understand that all we have to do is be the people God has called us to be, the people that we always have been, then His kingdom will have come. Then our wildest expectations will have been realised.

Then the Messiah will manifest himself in the desert of our souls.

From expectation to realisation to manifestation.