The ups and downs...

On Monday my scales announced that I had reached 15st (down from a high of a bit over 16). I checked again at the end of the day before I dared report this to others. Tuesday I stepped on again to celebrate, and suddenly I was 15st 2. The general grumps, plus this, plus having proclaimed confidently the achievement which wasn’t – together sent me to the sugar fix and I’m told 5st 4 and severe munchies. Some of the munchies may be hormonal but that doesn’t help the diet.

Thursday night we held an event at church – a falconry visit and talk. We weren’t overrun but it was a presentable small group. Some visited church hall for the first time, which was part of the point. But having slept too little all week, the grumps and a litany on the search for a door lock *(‘A lock, a lock, my kingdom for a lock’) I crashed emotionally. Didn’t have any more social reserves left and was, still am, overwhelmed with a sense of pointlessness. Technically apart from last night I have had leave this week, which was just as well as my functioning has been next to useless.

I like the way Hyperbole comments on the experience of depression on social interaction when you feel too disconnected to read or respond to people

“However, I could no longer rely on genuine emotion to generate facial expressions, and when you have to spend every social interaction consciously manipulating your face into shapes that are only approximately the right ones, alienating people is inevitable.”

It is the first thing I have read which captures how and why people stuff seems so hard in depression – it is because it is like suddenly trying to use a second language that you bungled through at school and haven’t used for years. Doable but exhausting.

I am officially on an Interruption in my depression and faith studies – I had an enquiry about my plans, to return or not. I want to do this – as much as I can want when emotionless – but is it fair when I’m already dropping balls domestically, pastorally?

For now I just need to get dressed and take the dog out...

* It all began with the simple aim of cutting a spare key for Gabi’s occasional dog walker, 3 keys and several tweaks later it is concluded that my original is a poor copy and impossible to get a useable key from it.  No problem, the cylinder locks are straightforward to remove and fit new, but needed a friend to tackle the first screw as I couldn’t get it to turn. That done the lock was temp back in place whilst I went down the road to the hardware shop to buy a new one having checked the size. Except it is an odd size, don’t have any, okay going to the big lights will check there – no, not even the big orange shed can help, though a couple of the helpful folk tried.  So home to t’internet and then hard to find my size...  Delivery imminent, hope it works, or it will be the whole door next!

‘For want of a key the lock was lost, for want of a lock the door was lost???’

I have a dream...of the church

In the days after Pentecost what does a church filled with the Spirit look like?

We are told that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control (the letter to the Galatians ch 5)

What would that look like?

I dream of churches full of people who look to care for other people’s needs, a place that welcomes the outcast, the fragile and the hurting. A church that can in tough love support those who need help to avoid temptation, and yet open its arms to the unconventional.

People who sit and listen to that story all over again, because he needs the company, people who weep with those who weep, and sing with those who rejoice. Those who bind wounds, and hold hands in the dark places.

It would be a group ready to take risks, but for a purpose not just because.

They may sing hymns ancient and prehistoric, or songs where the ink has yet to dry. They may find their own words of prayer or harvest the resources of the generations of faith. They may be loud or they may be quiet, large or small.

But their eyes will be on God, their hands reaching out to neighbours (near and far) and they will love and care for themselves as well.

I dream of the church of the Spirit, and I awake to the church of people.

People with fears that fight the faith, with pains that test the patience, journeys that have quenched the joy, politics that steal the peace.  We are flawed and wounded, our fruit may be stunted, lumpy, moth eaten in places – but it is still fruit.

May the Spirit take us in all our chaos and form us into a church – creased and crinkled but the church of Christ who still bore his wounds in resurrection.

Pentecost thoughts

Tomorrow is Pentecost – when the church remembers the day the Holy Spirit was poured out on the first disciples, young and old, male and female, rich and poor. The Spirit who blows where she will, God’s presence, God’s power expressed here on earth.

On the day of Pentecost things were unpredictable, people were gathered from across the world and heard and experienced that moment, they took that message home with them and the story of Jesus began its journey around the world. They hadn’t gone to have that experience, to meet God in that dramatic way – but God met them in his time and choice of place.

In the 2000 years that have followed people have sought to predict God, to box him into one type of church or another. Yet at the same time people have craved something more, something like that first outpouring. Revivalism emerges regularly and some of us owe the roots of the ‘way we do things’ to groups who had moments like that. But should it be something we seek?

There is a lot of web debate in the places I loiter about events at a church in Cwmbran, not that far from where I grew up.  Meetings are running every night, crowds are gathering and there are reports of a great sense of God’s presence. I am happy to affirm that God is present – even in Cwmbran – and I celebrate anywhere that lives are changed, but I am uncomfortable with the level of hype, and the concept of rushing there to meet God. 

It feels like a hunger for the quick fix, a chasing after someone else’s story and moment. The day of Pentecost came to those who were gathered but not expecting it – they didn’t crowd there because they heard of Peter’s blessing services. The story of Acts, the messages and debates of the letters of the New Testament were about working out the call of the Holy Spirit and move of God in each new place.

I want to touch God and see the Holy Spirit changing lives where I live and work, among those I meet who need to learn of hope and love and a reason to be. That means being willing to get my hands dirty, to glimpse the diamonds in the dust, to be vulnerable myself – that is where I have found myself closest to God.

I offer these closing thoughts on Pentecost Eve – picked off another facebook circular (attribution theirs)

May God bless you with a restless discomfort
about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.

May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.

May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God the Supreme Majesty and our Creator,
Jesus Christ the Incarnate Word who is our brother and Saviour,
and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Guide, be with you
and remain with you, this day and forevermore.

AMEN
a four-fold Franciscan blessing

Bless this mess

I’m back. Between being busy keeping head above water whilst the depression waves crashed around me, and a week without any computer at all, it has been quite a while. I am not going to attempt to catch up on all the blogs themes in my head that never got written so straight into life this week.

Lord bless this mess ...but save me from it!

TV shows invite us into the homes of extreme hoarders, those who cannot bear to be parted with anything until there is no room to move in their house.  I don’t suffer from that and yet I know some of the emotions around being overwhelmed by the chaos, finding ways to try and block it out and not wanting others to know.

I live in mess, abandoned paperwork in the office dumped there from time to time in an attempt to clear out other rooms because visitors are expected. The accumulation of post, shopping, notes and work on all surfaces and some sections of floor throughout the house is overwhelming at times, ok all the time. No it maybe that others live in the chaotic cluttered places too, but I guess the question is how it affects us and whether it is in charge of you or you of it.

Anyway, on Thursday I invited the 3 members of my support group into the manse – without cover up under the carpet attempts. I wanted to be honest, I wanted to cry for help but it was very scary and I felt so vulnerable. It was a moment of admitting that I am not coping domestically, not coping as a person...   It was a soul baring moment.  I have been drained all day today.

Next wed they are going to come and help me start to sort things and get back to a baseline, but I know that is just a start – I need to break habits and that’s what scares me more. I’d have to face up to the things that are in the way of me coping and at the moment hiding under the duvet is all I feel up to facing.

The mess around me represents the mess of feelings inside.