It was wonderful to be able to share in our Harvest Festival service on 26 September – the first time that our Local Ecumenical Partnership has worshipped together for over 18 months! Our service was led by the Rev Eddie Sykes, who had adapted a special liturgy from the Iona Abbey Worship Book and the 2021 Abingdon Worship Annual so that we could really focus on the meaning of harvest as well as enjoying singing some traditional seasonal hymns. The prayer that followed the sermon reflected on the Gospel reading (Matthew 6:25–33):

Look at the birds of the air.
They fly free of our worries:
no fields to weed and harvest,
no barns to fill.
And yet God feeds them.

Consider the lilies of the field.
They grow free of our worries:
no clothing to buy, no shoes to match.
And yet God clothes them in splendour.

So do not worry. Do not fear.
God knows our needs.
We will eat in plenty!
We will be satisfied!
Rejoice! God looks after our needs.

You can read all the prayers Eddie used at this link.

Photo by Marty Southwell on Unsplash.

The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)

Spirit of God
Intriguing
Elusive
Capricious
Eternally present
Before the birth of time
Not an afterthought
Not the latest iteration
But an integral part
of the eternal dance of the Trinity.
Creator
Redeemer
Sustainer
She was there moving over the water
at the birth of time
she was there in the hopes and fears of a people
who longed for a Messiah
She was there in the garden
when the warmth of resurrection
rekindled love
All three woven together
moving in synchronicity
Sometimes to the mellow strains
of a slow waltz
Sometimes to the whirling upbeat
of a ceilidh dance
At times she takes the lead
selecting the beat
changing up the rhythm
And then she sets the stage for another
to be front and centre
For the dance cannot be accomplished
without all three parts participating
in the divine choreography
And new parts are always being written
so that we, too, might participate
even in our clod hoppers
by taking our place on the floor
and simply beginning to move
to that persistent beat
that draws us into the Divine dance

This thought for Trinity Sunday comes from our friend Liz Crumlish: more on her blog.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.   (Romans 8:26)

This Pentecost, O God,
We fear the mighty rushing winds
and the tongues of fire that disrupt our careful order
We fear the exuberance of a crowd
getting out of control
and spilling onto the streets
We hold back on celebrations
when not all are able to participate
in our local church world
and in our global world
Send your Spirit once more
to intercede for us
with sighs too deep for words
With sighs that give thanks for life
and sighs that mourn so much death
With sighs that re-story us
as a people of hope
With sighs that re-member us
as a people of faith
And giving thanks for the very breath of life
May we take your life
and your Spirit
into all the world.

Written by Liz Crumlish for Pentecost 2021

Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. ( Luke 24:50–51)

40 days since resurrection
40 days since you encountered Mary in the garden
and told her – Do not hold on to me
40 days since you walked the road to Emmaus
and explained the Scriptures to grieving disciples
40 days since you snuck in to a locked room in the evening
and breathed peace into that space that was filled with regret
40 days in which you hung out with your friends
often at the beach
practising forgiveness
showing love
continuing to teach
restore
and commission
Love one another
Feed my sheep
Go into all the world
I can’t help but wonder
if that 40 days
brought any more comprehension
or made letting go any easier
Or, whether, like a second pandemic lockdown
your followers were traumatised all over again
plunged into bewilderment
and despair
that all the “knowing it’s for the best”
still failed to diminish.
It’s hard to play the long game
when spirits are already worn out
tired of riding the roller coaster
of hope and disappointment
It’s easier to dally on the beach
to stick with what we know
than follow you where you call
trusting that we will be enough
that you will be enough
for whatever comes next.

Liz Crumlish’s blog for 9 May 2021 at https://tinyurl.com/5yttf62x

Reflecting on a year of COVID restrictions in Scotland

Remembering
the wave of disbelief
and the stunned silence
The grief
and lament
The resignation
and helplessness
The shock of furlough
– surplus to requirement
in an institution
focused on survival

Remembering
the mounting fear
as death tolls rose
The longing to be able to do more
than make a difference
by staying home
and the low grade anxiety
that began low in the belly on waking
and lodged in the throat on sleeping

Remembering
the deniers
and the conspiracists
the pontificators
and the optimists
all of whom made the work of  scientists
and out of their depth governments
all the more difficult

Remembering
the hope snatched away
by a second wave
crushing already beleaguered services
affecting a less compliant populous
being rekindled
by the whisper
of vaccine potential
into a hope reborn 

Oh to share the indictment of Maya Angelou
“When we know better, we do better”
Sadly, I wonder…
What have we learned?
And will our learning make any difference?
Will it make a difference
to the marginalised
to those on the edges
to “the least of these”
whom we are called to love and to serve?
Or, as is often the way,
Will those in power
tell the story
through rose tinted glasses
of a nation that fought
and won the fight
papering over the cracks
of dissension and division
of incompetence and pride
ignoring the long shadows that remain
trumpeting resilience
and “building back better”
as the tools with which to move forward?

Remembering …
And sitting with the grief
so that the loss and sacrifice
of so many
and the ongoing trauma and suffering
is not swept aside
as we move forward
but is carefully woven
into the fabric
of our communities
not only as dark threads
but also as bright and vivid streaks
startling reminders
held aloft
carried with us
into the compassionate future
that we craft together.

This reflection by our friend Liz Crumlish is used by permission, and comes from her blog, which you can follow at this link.