4 years on

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I’m preaching this morning; something that I now do only sporadically. More particularly I’m leading worship at a service that I helped start nearly 13 years ago in a community centre. Today is the last one; I’m surprised that it gave life for so long, but excited that I go to a church where they try new things; more particularly with a new demographic that now have contact with the church.

It struck me that this is almost 4 years to the day since I had a ‘farewell’ service in the same church and it got me reflecting about what has changed and the difficulty of that change (in effect, becoming homeless, moving house, financial pressures, but bigger than that: there are no maps).

I’ve been reading Mary Oliver poetry recently and this one helped:-

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.

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