I haven’t really got a regular place of worship yet. So much of life is in flux and things have not settled down yet.
A couple of months back, I had intended to be at home whilst my wife took the children to something called ‘The Sunday Breakfast’. This was something I helped set up a few years back. It has waxed and waned but somehow kept going. It is about half an hour of interactive worship, all ages, around breakfast tables in the local village hall. I used to lead every one.
Except, my wife could not take them: a sudden family illness meant that she had to be elsewhere. So I took them, thinking that I wanted to be elsewhere: I don’t want to be Banquo’s Ghost.
The funny thing was, after being initially nervous, I felt at home and no one put me in the spotlight. I could worship quietly doing all the low key interactive stuff that I used to lead. The noise and the mess was somehow strangely stilling and restful.
I went back the next month and will be there today- the 9th anniversary and the last in the village hall before it moves to a new community/church space.
If I feel anywhere at home in this time of uncertainty, it is there: short, simple. less words, all together, without artifice or preacher’s ego and warm.
It is good to recognise an oasis in the desert from time to time.