Green Patches

Sustainable Smellies - the return

Update on the hair situation over on my Musings blog. Mr GP demonstrates commendable tact, given that it's Valentine's Day and all.

Who do you say that I am?

 

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

  They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

    “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

  Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

 - Matthew 16, text Biblegateway

 

To return to our wandering shepherd, now reunited with his friends after a brief if inglorious career as a visual aid at our church's prayer group.

"Who do you say that I am?" Jesus asked  his disciples. The Sunday before during the service, we'd been encouraged to reflect on who Christ is to each of us wherever we currently find ourselves on our journey of faith.  I say encouraged - maybe 'gently challenged' might best describe it. I picked up on this, leading  into our customary time of silent prayer with Matthew's text and a short meditation posing the question once more "Who do you say that I am?"

I guess any of Christ's questions could equally well have   applied just then.  Maybe they did.  He asked plenty of them, after all. "What do you want me to do for you?" Who are you looking for?" "Who touched me?" "Where is your faith?" "What concern is it of yours?" "What is your name?" and dozens and dozens of others.   

But later I fell to thinking about the approaches different  branches  of our faith communities take to those questions, to discipleship and encouraging  each other to grow and change.  Particularly after glancing through another 'Ship' discussion on Altar calls and 'decisionism': the good old call to the front, altar call, sinner's prayer and whatnot. Not all of it unfamiliar to me, in a fairly restrained Anglican version of from my old church. I'll try  not to  get into arguments about soteriology here; they've been pretty thoroughly covered on the thread.  However, my own reflections did get me pondering some aspects of my own journey - and  where I stand now on some of the methodology used over on the more evangelical and charismatic wing of the church, now that I've spent a few years in a slightly broader and more catholic setting. 

More so  given my own moves since into discerment of a possible  call to spiritual direction, my deeper appreciation and understanding of the nuances of peoples' faith journeys. 

Was,  for instance, my group  meditation  an 'altar call' in a different guise? It certainly didn't occur to me at the time that it might be considered to be this.  That my initial feeling was one of slight...only slight and probably  misplaced  - guilt at even an unintended hint of manipulation on my part  is maybe just the lingering remains of  hangups from my previous experiences.  Certainly I find the more laid back style of 'Newchurch' is enabling me to   grow into a way of relating to both God and my fellow Christians that's far more autonomous, less dependent than  before. Living, as well as living with...the questions.

Likewise, I consider my own style to be less 'directive,' more 'fellow pilgrim,' 'companioning.'  That could account for my ambivalence. Am I confusing  directiveness (is there such a word?!) with challenge? That should pose some implications for my own companioning. 

So after all that hot air, no answers...more questions. Which neatly brings us back to Matthew 16: "Who do you say that I am?" 

 

 

Christus Mansionem Benedicat - Return of Wiseman 3

Yes, Wiseman 3 has returned!  It turns out he never went AWOL in the first place. Mr GP found him the other day - in the Nativity scene, sheltering behind a gigantic magpie (made from a kit given to me for Christmas by Ms GP). So much for my policy of inclusivity (and the state of my eyesight). The little chap has been reunited with his friends on the windowsill amidst much general rejoicing and merrymaking. I broke open a late Christmas pressie of toffees to celebrate  and in an absent-minded moment bit down on one way too hard and broke a filling. I'm now trying hard not to wonder whether the cost of a new one works out any dearer than the original cost of the Wiseman...

One of our wise men is missing!

Horrors! I dropped into our creche earlier  - to move the magi to the alcove window ready for the Epiphany House Blessings tomorrow evening and ...Wise Man Number Three was nowhere to be found. He's gorn, scarpered, gone AWOL, taken the long and winding road back to Persian Lands afar... Oh Where oh Where Can He Be? Was he left abandoned in the nativity shoe box all Christmastime, with only a Provencal lavender bag and a pile of wood shavings for company? Or was he ever there to begin with?

This is worrying. Not the best way to begin the New Year methinks. Thank goodness not all creches are as disorganised as the Greenpatch one: Over on Spiritually Directed, the magi have at last reached the stable.Thanks to the wise words of their landlady, they've escaped the scarey prospect of remaining stuck in a Permanent Advent. Thank you, miniature Magi; I've loved  following your journeyings along the bathroom shelf.  It's helping me process my own sense of Advent discombobulation. If you should come across my missing Wise Man, speak kindly to him and point him back across the Atlantic.

Forever Autumn - Blog of The Week

 

Pom- pom- pom, pompom, pompompompom pom-pom-pooommm...

Never repeat yourself, did I say? Oh dear.  Oops, rules are made to be broken and all that... Guaranteed to make  even the most po-faced personage  smile (I'd love to see what they'd make of Franciscan liturgy),  thought-provoking  and possessed of  an unerring timing that helps me put all my angst-provoking spiritual lingerie-entangling into perspective.  Yes, Blog of The Week goes yet again to those cyber-coenobites and liturgical virtuosos  - The Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley. 

 

Late Blog of The Week - The Cartoon Blog

Welcome to my Blog of The Week - 'late' this time, not  - thankfully - in the Precious Ramotswe, Alenxander Mcall-Smith sense, more in the 'unexpected diversion caused by fault at the telephone exchange and subsequent circuitous and ultimately time-wasting wanderings round the labyrinthine bowels of a certain provider's website and call centre system' sense of the word.  But that's another story, which, I hope, will not be set to run and run...

So, to BOTW: this time round, I chose what I call one of the 'Big Blogs,' Dave Walker's Cartoon Blog and his reflections on his struggles to maintain his creativity under pressure.  I've had a bit of a sea-change myself, lately, partly prompted by the examples of other people who've not been afraid to be seen to be vulnerable. (At times in the past, the dreaded words:"Now, I'd like us to turn to our neighbour and share..." has had me glancing at the door to locate  the nearest exit for the loo). Hence, I have a great deal of respect for those of us who have the courage to stand up and share their 'seagulls,' or in my case, 'seabirds.' Yes, I know the picture here shows a stork; there is a perfectly simple explanation for this here.

Seagulls, seabirds, storks; which gives me a chance to make an even more tenuous link: Wildgoose and tertiary and actor Paul Alexander's classic reflections on the work of the Holy Spirit: Chasing The Wildgoose which he originally wrote for Franciscan enquirers.

"In the Celtic tradition ‘the wild goose’ is the symbol for the Holy Spirit. The

 

wild goose is an enigmatic creature; once seen, never forgotten; once

 

heard, always remembered; here one moment, gone the next; fond of

 

desolate places and freedom; a romantic figure living a wild life; almost

 

impossible to follow, but once pursued, almost impossible to give up."

 

Keep your seagulls flying, Dave. They're an inspiration to us all. 

When I started this feature, I'd planned never to repeat a blogger, but, as it was International Talk Like a Pirate Day yesterday, I simply couldn't resist linking to Archdruid Eileen's Liturgy. 

                                                                                                                                                          aarrmen!

 

 

 

Widgets, randomness and serendipity

I've been directed  into the bowels of this blog - thanks to the delightful randomness of a new toy, the weird and wonderful widget linkwithin . Thanks to another newcomer on the blogroll, Filey Gardener, for twas on her blog that I stumbled across this tool for linking together similarly themed posts and, at least, (according to the site),  to enable you to give some of your old, dusty and forgotten bon mots an airing. 

Whether this always happens in actuality? I'm witholding judgement for now; from what I've seen so far, its system is, shall we say, 'eclectic', random, and with a certain illogicality that makes me wonder what on earth the Myers-Brigg's MBTI system would make of it. INFP, anybody? Why else would my self-indulgent wofflings about Greenbelt the other day be linked to the terse and succinctly-named post 'Dung!' Or, reviving my rusty ex-pat French, 'Crotte!' 

Still, to give it credit for perseverance, it's obviously determined to sharpen its accuracy, and, when I logged on earlier, I couldn't help smiling  when I noticed it had linked to two far more apposite reflections, written in the midst of my more embarrassing bouts of existential angst a few years ago: 'Vocational Self-Assembly Pack,' and 'the d-word: Dancing with the music of the spirit,'

Plus ca change...

 

Light my fire - Thunder and Rainbows

 

 -  Fremte  from Wikimedia Commons

 

 

We could do with some here - thunder I mean.  It's absolutely scorching for the third day running, with humidity at 90% if you believe everything the BBC says.  And much as I'm tempted to rush out into the garden and continue with my painting of everything that moves - and some things  that don't, (the dog is breathing a sigh of relief here), I have retained an ounce  of commonsense. We don't want Mr GP to return from his travels this evening to  discoverhis wife flat out on a bench and the dog decorating  the lawn with Jackson Pollock-type  streaks in tasteful sage and buttermilk.

I've been reflecting a little on what life's been like in the GP household over on my wibsite blog  - and on my own journeyings in particular - where the metaphors of thunder and rainbows and holding the two in tension have and continue to be part of a learning curve.  I'm trying, (famous last words) as I've said on Musings, to major on the rainbows as much as poss. Given my natural tendency to Eyorism (have I coined a new expression?) this is no mean feat.  I've always said that I don't know how I'd cope without my sense of humour. One of the warning signs that I'm beginning to get overstressed and need to lighten up is that it begins to wane. I'll admit - signing on to Youtube and grimly ploughing my way through a selection of comedy clips - as I did after a particularly 'orrible 'blip' last weekend maybe wasn't the way to go. 

However, consciously focusing on those brighter moments, (though without morphing into Julie Andrew's "My Favourite Things" mode; there are limits!) has helped. Nothing new and certainly not rocket science. Readers who are of an Ignatian bent will recognise elements of the examen here: pausing at intervals to reflect on where God's been present , what draws  energises, fires you up  (and what does the opposite). A form of this is actually written into my rule of life as a daily practice. Yes, I am Franciscan I know - but let's allow for overlap, shall we?  Did you know that Francis introduced a form of "Ignatian" meditation long before Inigo was around, with his institution of the first Creche Vivante (living crib); the forerunner of our modern crib scene.

To get back to Inigo -  at the excellent BRF Festival of Prayer  recently one speaker told of a similar exercise which has really caught my imagination: their spiritual director had challenged them to try and list 100 (Yes, you read it correctly, one hundred) things that energised and brought them alive. Talk about a challenge. Is it really possible? Time will tell. To date my 'list ' has around 30 or 40 items on it; there are days when it sits at the back of my journal untouched, others when I add several at a time.  It certainly resonates with the way in which I've been experiencing a sense of quiet prayerfulness in some of the most unlikely activities recently - hence the mad garden painting spree.  It's a far cry from the rather (at times) grim, greyish, often extremely cerebral 'Quiet Time' which even  if  it's not actually used up much   of my time, certainly has provoked a lorry load of guilt  in the past.  I'm not the only one it seems. There's a discussion currently over on The Ship on the self same topic. I just love the poster who describes her  prayer practice nowadays as more "Every Now and Then with Jesus."

Happily I'm beginning to loosen up nowadays and am trying to balance regularity and spontaneity.  Not quite in the same way as those delightful Beaker Folk, thank  the Lord, but I'm getting there. Though maybe counting my exploits with a Kelly Kettle and homemade bunting (my latest craft project) as meditative prayer practices is carrying the definition a tad too far. I'll be into fire eating and prophetic banner waving before you can turn round, and then, where will we be?

Do not worry

 

Weekend Fisher asks "What Bible Verse are you?"  Which  verses really speak to you personally, encapsulate your call?  I was about to come over clever and counter the question with another one: about  Francis of Assisi - "Consider the lilies..." yes,  very appropriate. The verse that I associate with him though is:

"Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

Isn't that more Francis?

Oh...yes...what were you asking? "Answer the question?" OK then - (this is so like one of those addictive "What Muppet character are you?" quizzes that turn up in the blogosphere with monotonous regularity!) Bible verse? Hmmm....? Errr... "Do not worry." Now where could that have come from? A quick trawl of the colander-like depths of the Greenpatch memory and  an even quicker one of Biblegateway reveals...ta dah...! Yes, "Consider the lillies..."  How embarrassing!  Could be I've more Franciscan traits than I thought.

 

Moving on....hastily - a question for readers, especially anybody who's chanced on this blog via TSSF.  I've referred  before now to tertiary Anne Spalding's challenge to Third Order members to explore what a non-prose -based commentary on our Principles might be like. 

"Franciscan life, as I understand it, is a whole

 

life, not solely word-based. So what I would like to see is some Third Order groups

 

explore what a non-prose-based commentary on our Principles might be like ...

 

music, action, poetry, drawings and paintings ... What would you do?"

 

Tomorrow some of us  intend to ask fellow tertaries  to do just that, (no, they've not been told anything about this).  Quite a challenge. It'll be interesting to see what people come up with.

So to you , gentle reader;  "What Would You Do?"  For purposes of bloggery, prose is permitted.  (I've never yet seen a commenter responding in music or dance). I'd love to hear some of  your ideas.

 

 

Pilgrimage Companions Part 2 - Return of the Midges

In case anybody thinks I should be reaching for the halo polish after the last blog post, do feel free to pop over to Musings.  Call it Franciscan joy, if you like!