A mobile sort of stability…

Posted by David Ward on 10/03/2010
Posted in: Personal thoughts, Pilgrimage, Relationships. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

I’ve been walking around the town ramparts of Berwick-upon-Tweed today. Spring is definitely in the air, and the sun is warm on my skin when the cold wind drops for a moment. I’m glad to be here in ‘Borderland’ today, with all the opportunities that this new year may bring.

So, it’s strange when my thoughts turn to another place and to a group of friends from what seems like ages ago…

I was born in a small town on the north coast of Kent (Whitstable, if you’re interested), and I stayed there for the first 33 years of my life. Since then I’ve lived in Manchester, North Wales, Cheshire and Northumberland, before coming to rest (who knows for how long!) in the Scottish Borders. I worked out that this also equates to living in 11 different houses, 10 of which were in the last 14 years. Loads of mobility but not, you’d think, much stability there.

But…to return to where I started….

I became a Christian at the age of 9, and joined a little church which was probably the best church gathering I’ve ever belonged to (although my current church is shaping up to equal it, I think, but haven’t been there for long yet).

I also had a small circle of close friends of around my own age who came from a selection of the local churches…David, Brett, Brian, Alan, Stephen, Anne, Denise, John, Mandy, Robin, Jeanette, Kevin, Christine, Trevor and Richard…apologies if you think you should be part of the list and I’ve forgotten you!

As together we grew in age and faith in the heady days of the 60s and 70s we spent a fair bit of our time putting the world and, particularly, the church to rights. We could have done so much better at promoting the Kingdom of God in our town than our predecessors…if only we had the chance. I remember having this dream/fantasy in which all of us went our separate ways, but then, one day, in answer to a dramatic call from God we all returned to the town and revival broke out in Kent.

Nearly thirty years have passed. Old dreams have died or been realised, or have maybe been replaced by new ones. Some of my friends have done much better on The Journey than me, while others have decided they’d prefer a different journey altogether. I’ve lost touch with most – I know that Brett is in Northamptonshire, Brian, Alan and Mandy are still in Kent, Stephen is in France and Trevor in the USA; the rest…who knows?

Probably, like me, we’ve all reached the conclusion that we are unable to sort ourselves out, let alone the church (and fortunately, it’s not entirely our job anyway). Of course, I also know that revival couldn’t possibly break out in Kent, as it’s going to begin in Scotland ;0)

But, joking apart, where did this ramble get me?

St Benedict, the 6th century monk who wrote the Rule of Life that bears his name put it like this:

“Grow where you’re planted.”
Well, he didn’t put it quite like that, as he was a monk, not a gardener, but that’s the gist of it.
After 30 years of moving around, changing counties, countries, homes, churches etc. I’ve come to the conclusion that growing where you happen to be planted right now is the only sensible way to live, learning life’s lessons in the place and with the people God has given for as long as this lesson lasts, and accepting that none of us really knows how to do this thing we call life, so we’d best see what we can learn from each other undfer God’s direction. Continually moving on in search of things that are novel is no more the answer to growing and maturing as a person or as a Christian than is staying put rather than facing new challenges, demands, adventure and relationships.
So, here’s to friends old and new, dreams lost and fulfilled and to a life of mobility and stability (provided we know which one is appropriate at a particular time…).

A funny sort of leaving…

Posted by David Ward on 11/02/2010
Posted in: Community, Personal thoughts, Pilgrimage, Relationships. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

I’ve done it! I’ve made up my mind. When the Community moves, I will not be ‘moving’ with it (see previous post).

Sometimes you have to make hard decisions even about things you love. Sometimes things which have been very much a part of you suddenly seem to have ‘dropped off’ without you even realising it’s happened. You even get to the point where you realise that something that was an aid to your journey could even become a crutch that you’re unwilling to let go of, even though you know that your healthy legs are trying to propel you somewhere else.

I wasn’t planning to make a big thing of it. I’ve already quietly slipped out of the Community’s online forum…call me silly if you like, but it seemed the right thing to do as a kind of ‘deposit’ on my decision. I’d already cut down on the number of things I’m helping out with at the Community’s mother house, but expressed my willingness to continue to help out with some of the things I do. Funnily enough, every time I’ve been asked so far I’ve either not been available or, when I have said ‘yes’ things got cancelled from that end…maybe God’s trying to tell me something.

Then I had a request from one of the Community’s leaders to sign a rota to lead a weekly Eucharist. Leading Eucharist has been one of my favourite things about being part of the Community, so this request hit deep at the heart of something very special to me. I knew I had to write back saying I’d rather not, and give at least a token explanation about my “slow withdrawal from Community”. Apart from one close friend who I knew I could trust not to say anything until I signalled that it was OK to do so, no one else knew

Then someone who’s not a Community leader asked me why I was planning to leave…had I been hurt…had something upset me etc. People were talking. Clearly sometimes you just can’t leave quietly and without fuss, because people misunderstand, or choose to think the worst.

So let me say it here…I’m moving on after 18 years of being a Companion of the Community because it’s time to move on to other things. I’d always assumed I’d be a Companion for life but now I know that’s just not right. I will always be a Friend of Community…how could it be otherwise? It’s just that I’m not happy to remain a Companion if I’m choosing no longer being actively involved; that just isn’t the way I am.

I’m certainly not leaving because I’m hurt/angry/fed up…if I was going to leave for any of those reasons and more I’d have left long ago. My friends the Benedictines taught me the importance of a vow of stability…staying where you’re planted and growing through the experiences, good and bad!

I guess like many people I was living ‘The Rule’ long before I found the Community. Community gave me a vocabulary and shared experience to understand and express the way I was working out my Christian life. Now as I move on, I need to find a new vocabulary and shared experiences as I continue to live out ‘The Rule’.

There’s something exciting about stepping out into something new, especially when it’s not all neat and ordered yet.

I step out in faith with a wistful backward glance, but with the knowledge that many of the friends I’ve met in and through Community will continue to be my travelling companions. It seems like a funny sort of leaving…

Another moving experience…

Posted by David Ward on 26/01/2010
Posted in: Books/Articles, Community, Personal thoughts, Pilgrimage. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Hetton Hall at nightThe Christian community of which I am a part is soon to lose its home.

A new home has already been found, and everyone seems to be very excitedly anticipating the move to a new location and the moving on into whatever God has for us in the future.

I feel a sense of impending loss, and a great sadness.

It’s not that I lack faith, or vision or excitement about future possibilities. No doubt we will rightly take time during this year to gather together and celebrate everything that Hetton Hall has been. But I also want time to mourn its passing, the closing of a chapter and the loss of a place which has been the context of a significant phase in my life and faith…

I first visited Hetton Hall in 1993, not long after Community had moved in the previous year, for a marriage weekend led by Community members, and even though the events of the following year cast some doubts on the effectiveness of the weekend, it was a first visit that made a deep impression.

It was at Hetton that my family (the kids at least) enjoyed our final holiday together as that family, camping on the lawn during a very hot August.

While my marriage was breaking up it was at Hetton I received love, acceptance, support and advice…and even just some relief from the pressures of trying to keep everything together.

After the final break-up, Hetton provided a place of care and recovery of hope for an uncertain future. It was there that God showed me that there was to be “life the other side of divorce”!

It was at Hetton that, as an unapologetic evangelical non-conformist, I learned the value of liturgy, of silence in worship, of accepting those whose Christian journey was different to mine.

It was at Hetton that I went with Wendy after we had married, towards the end of our honeymoon. We spent several days there in bed…with ’flu!

It was at Hetton that I have made lasting friendships with people who are scattered across the UK and the rest of the world, people who have had lasting impact on my life.

I was at Hetton I experienced some of the deepest pain of the last few years, particularly during the time I spent as part of the leadership team.

Recently it has been at Hetton where the trust of the Community has enabled me to enter into elements of pastoral ministry again, and to renew my confidence in my ability to preach, lead worship and accompany people on retreat. Few will truly know what this has meant to me.

And so I feel a deep sadness about losing this place. I’m certain that I’m not the only one. I know that the relationships will continue and the memories will linger, but this home, my home, will have gone, and as yet, I’m not certain what moving house will mean, or even that I really want to be part of another move.

I’ve been reading Pete Grieg’s excellent book, “God on Mute”, and tucked away in the section about “Engaging the Silence” I found a little passage that made so much sense of how I’m feeling.

“I hope you have a place like Bethany that you can go to when you’re wrestling with unanswered prayer. It could be a place or a book or a piece of music that reminds you of all the good things God has done in the past. It could be a person like Lazarus whose very being makes the presence and power of God real to you even when life is at its worst. Bethany is a connection point that reminds you of something you once knew for sure: that God can do immeasurably more than all you ask or imagine, that the kingdom remains a matter of power (see 1Cor. 4: 20) even when there’s little evidence of it in your present situation, and that all things are possible for him who believes. Bethany’s the kind of community or the kind of family where you can sometimes still smell the perfume of God’s presence.” (p 271)

I feel like I’m losing my ‘Bethany’, and it will take some time for the ne w place to absorb the prayers, laughter, tears, memories, even ‘resurrections’ that have made Hetton Hall the place it is for me, as no doubt, in time, the new place will become for Community members (and maybe even for me).