Reflection for Jan 2008

January 14, 2008

I have been leading services in Nottinghamshire, Suffolk and Buckinghamshire, in churches since 1982 and in prisons from 1988, and I’m left wondering what all that industry has achieved. What has been accomplished by all the singing of hymns and the scripture readings?

Which is a pretty sad thought, given that worship is at the heart of our services throughout the Christian calendar. If nothing is being achieved at these moments of awe and wonder, what hope for Christmas, Easter, Harvest and All Saints Day? What hope for transformation, inspiration, dedication, of people, churches and communities?

Then it came to me – where it usually does – away from email, text or phone. Alone, walking the dog in the green fields minutes from my house.

It was there I began a realisation which on one level could have been pure fluke or coincidence, or on another may have been something more profound, a sign to answer the questions of my troubled mind. A message written at my feet but only visible for a season, soon to be hidden by spring’s rebirth.

It was a bleak grey damp late afternoon. The wind was blowing a cold northerly, chilling man and beast as my faithful companion, always eager to sniff and explore, ran excitedly like a child arriving at the gates of a theme park.

Head down to negate the full force of the numbing breeze on my already reddened cheeks, I walked purposefully along the road towards a tarmac path that would allow me passage through a row of sharp-thorned bushes that formed a barrier between town and country. Two tarmac cut-throughs were laid at either end of the wall of tightly planted shrubs, about half a mile apart.

Suddenly, in the barrenness of winter’s cold, where the only signs of life in the bushes were the remaining berries from summer fruitfulness, I saw a new path, just ahead of me. My companion had spotted it with delight moments earlier and had darted through the gap and into the glorious freedom of a large meadow where she ran wildly, drawing in deep breaths of the rain-bearing wind.

I stood and looked at the newly created thoroughfare and reflected. How had this come to be? Who had made it? How long had it been there? How long would it last? I looked and pondered. Finally I walked the walk too, and then glanced back.

I soon knew the answer to my questions. In the months when the bushes grew and stretched their branches, the scrub forbade any such passage. Planted for this purpose, it stood triumphant like a prison wall, keeping us captive to the town and its tarmac, so we were forced to compliantly use the official thoroughfares. But now, in the bleak mid-winter, its guard was down. It was vulnerable to the non-conformist dog walker.

Some pioneer, seeking a navigable route through the least dense area of bush, had marched through, beginning the process of compacting and flattening the earth and fallen autumn leaves. Others must have spotted the opportunity of saving time and had followed.

As did I. Between us we had unintentionally created a footpath though the maze of undergrowth and thus managed a premature escape from the captivity of town and into the joy of the beauty of the Chiltern countryside. From here it is but a short walk onto the farmlands of Hartwell and the river and on towards Waddesdon.

It would suffice until spring, when fresh growth would cover the path until the following winter. But for a while the footpath offers a way through, and this has been achieved by the steady footprints over time by unknown co-workers.

Much like our journey of faith. A lot of what we do over time is unrecognised, even unconscious … we simply follow Christ, and by so doing we carve new paths for others to follow and thus enter new places.

We may at times feel overwhelmed by the world and its ways, but by regular worship and faithful discipleship our journey will have a positive impact in a world where so much is negative. And through that faithfulness we ourselves will be transported to a place described by our Lord as Paradise. And the path we leave behind us will offer the opportunity for others to follow.

So by our churches offering communities the opportunity to celebrate the Father’s Love made known in Jesus, we are steadily and quietly building the kingdom. And by living our lives in a faithful grounded fashion, we together carve a path for others to benefit from.

So we’ll sing our hymns and absorb God’s Word, to continue the traditions. Then we’ll walk the walk with the Lord of the Dance and bit by bit compact the earth where we tread, unconscious, unknowingly, trusting he will use our faithfulness to create footpaths to glory throughout our life’s journey.

Rev Fred Ireland