… and certainly not what
we wanted! I started the month of February full of expectation. Throughout most
of 2017 I’ve been taking part with other diocesan clergy in a course of
residential and other gatherings called Missional Leadership for Growth.
It’s taken me away from the parish - but it’s also had its counterpart in
meeting with a small team at St. Cuthbert’s and sharing of how we can move
forward with members of the PCC and others. It’s about the Church’s “mission”
(indeed God’s mission which he shares
with us) - and how that may help us grow. And we have been making progress with
plans for the future - especially looking to see how we can link our life and
work here with a national initiative for prayer between Ascension Day and
Pentecost in May. That’s a period when Christian
Aid Week takes place - so we want to link in with that as we consider our
Christian responsibilities. And those ten days will start as we welcome members
of other parishes to join us for a Deanery Eucharist on Ascension Day - so it
will remind us that we are part of a greater whole. We want to look at all the
good things that are going on - from Messy Church to Lunch Club - and try to
join them up still more effectively.
We’re not changing those
plans. But how they are delivered will no doubt be affected by circumstances
beyond our control. We did not count on the
leak in our church heating system. To call it a “leak” feels like an
understatement of the problem. It’s a catastrophic failure. One hole… but it
took three visits from the heating engineers to find it. We could see the water
pouring through the wall into the old boiler house below the choir vestry. But
only when the experts followed the ducting through which most of the pipes run,
excavating as they went, did they find that the source of the leak was a pipe
buried under the flagstones beneath the red carpet near the font. The pipe
itself was under another pipe, which meant both sets of pipes would have to be
cut through to reach it. But all the surrounding pipework was so decayed that
it wouldn’t be just a matter of replacing a couple of sections. The hole is at
the heart of a complex system of junctions, bends and bifurcations. There would
need to be a massive excavation (at least two weeks) and the font would need to
be moved. An estimate was given for the repair (with no guarantee that it
wouldn’t be more) of £13,300 + VAT. And once that work was done, there would be
no guarantee that a leak wouldn’t occur elsewhere - an experience we’ve known
to our cost on several occasions.
So we have realised that
we need to think hard - and hopefully replace the whole ancient system of pipework
which must be almost if not as old as the church’s 168 years. Bear with us in
this, please - and be patient. It’s a massive undertaking!
For the moment - and with
the Bishop’s permission - Sunday services will be held in the Church Hall. It
would be good to be back in church for Easter Day - but that will be without
heat, so wrap up warm if we do that! Then we imagine we’ll return to the Hall
till it gets warmer. Will that put us off? I’m glad to say that on our first
Sunday in the Hall, numbers went up! Let’s keep it that way!
Since then, of course,
we’ve had horrendous winter conditions. In the midst of which we’ve had two
weddings. We hired in an industrial heater and borrowed others. On each
occasion they raised the temperature by about 3 degrees - which isn’t much when
you’re starting at 3 degrees! The
second wedding had to contend with deep snow - not only on the Bank but also in
getting to us. But happily they persevered - and the outcome was wonderful!
Something they’ll certainly be able to tell their grandchildren about.
The night before that
wedding, I posted on Facebook that we’d welcome help in clearing what snow we
could. I wondered if anyone would notice. But then - as they say - it went
“viral.” People took it to heart - and shared it with others. The original post
reached about 28,000 people! The next morning there was a tractor clearing the
Bank, and a Land Rover with a snow plough, and 40 to 50 people with shovels.
And people serving them hot drinks to keep them going. It’s one of the most
encouraging things I’ve ever known - and it’s been repeated since over the
wider community. The story itself has been in the Chronicle, the Northern Echo,
the Church Times, the Times of Malta(!) and on BBC and other websites - and
I’ve found myself talking about it in three different radio interviews.
The word gets round -
when it’s something people want to hear, when hearts are ready to be touched.
That’s what I think we can learn.
What are we wanting to say? What do people hear
us say? What’s the good news we can share? How can we turn a disaster into a
triumph?
And, of course, that’s
what the Easter story is about. So many hopes pinned by the Disciples
and even the crowds of Palm Sunday on one man, hailed as a Messiah, but then
betrayed and deserted by those closest to him. The Cross is about the death of
that man - and about the worst that people are capable of doing to each other.
But it’s also about the means by which God brings about something else still
greater - and unexpected. It’s about the
triumph of his love. The new life by
which he raises Jesus from the dead is greater than death.
I’m not full of empty
confidence. Over the last two weeks I’ve lain awake in bed wondering how do we
get through this? - how do I even get through today? I still don’t know the
long-term answer to our big fabric issues. But I am touched by the human
response that I’ve seen - and especially as it related to people at that most
important time of their lives, in committing themselves to each other in love.
What do we hope for? I
can be glad for the human resilience
I’ve experienced in these last few days - and for the way that action has been
an expression of love. But still more, as Christians, I hope we will find cause
to reflect and act on what our faith means
to us - and God’s love which is its
source. We need to do something about the fabric of our church - but
there’s only any point in doing it if it says something of what we believe.
Every day I need to ask myself, why do I
do this? Unless the answer has something to do with my faith in a God of
life and love, then mine has been a wasted life. Let’s grow together through
the remainder of Lent, so that at its end we may recognise again that “We are an Easter People and Alleluia is our
song!”
Martin Jackson
From the March issue of our Parish Magazine - click here to read it online
