The last day in the Holy Land

The last day of my travels in Palestine and Israel took in the Mount of the Transfiguration – also known as Mount Tabor. It is a mountain that stands apart from those that fill this region, with the others forming chains that form beautiful peaks and troughs along the horizon in every direction. On this mountain, Jesus is believed to have been transfigured so that his face shone as the sun, and the three disciples who he had taken with saw a vision in which Moses and Elijah appeared. It is an awe-inspiring ‘story’, the events of which must have left the disciples wondering what on earth was going on. In addition to this event, Mount Tabor is the site of an amazing battle recorded in Judges 4 in which the Prophetess and Judge Deborah joined with Barak to defeat the Canaanite forces on the Valley of Jezreel. Today the valley is fertile and used for agriculture and the like but, as we drive from here along the road to Megiddo (Armageddon), it was not so hard to recall the fact that the valley must have been soaked in blood over many hundreds of years as the warring factions sought to take control of this region – being that it was part of the well-trodden along important trade routes.

We were blessed with sunshine as we drove away from the Sea of Galilee towards Mount Tabor and the perfect weather continued just until we reached the Basilica on the top of the Mountain. Unless one walks up the mountain from the car park, the route up is via the most tortuous of roads – absolutely not for the faint-hearted of drivers. The series of hairpin bends is shown quite clearly on the map but the map doesn’t reveal the taxi-vans that come hurtling round the corners at a rapid rate of knots, taking unsuspecting drivers unawares. Neither does the map forewarn you that the wall built to protect cars from heading over the precipice in case of slipping in wet weather (or seeking to avoid said taxis) is only about a foot high, so will be of absolutely no use whatsoever if the need to use them arose. Indeed, one of the walls had quite a seriously hole in it, and I imagine it had only barely managed to stop the vehicle that had hit it. Jesus and the disciples will have been far safer walking up the mountain, whilst Deborah (whose namesake town, Daburiyya is at the bottom of the mountain) will, of course, have been riding on her trusty, valiant and noble steed! (Not that I’m biased…)

The Basilica at the top of the mountain is quite lovely. The nave is open so that the remains of an earlier Century Basilica can be revealed through glass ‘windows’ in the ground. Designed by Bertolucci, the Basilica has what I have come to think of as his trade-mark windows. These can be seen in the Church of All Nations, the Church of the Beatitudes, the Church at the Shepherd’s Fields in Beit Sehour… amongst other places. We were lucky in that a large group was just leaving and so were able to be quiet and still in this lovely place on our last day as we made our way back towards the airport.

There were a few other people around and, as I made my way to sit quietly in the nave, there were a couple sitting closely side by side, singing a hymn together quietly. They then sat in complete stillness with their eye closed, praying. My friend and I read the account of the Transfiguration, and it was so powerful to hear it again in this place. (It is interesting the things one notices though – something new each time if one is lucky. On this occasion, it was that Jesus didn’t know what to say to the disciples because they were so afraid. I was moved by his humanity and also his helplessness…) The husband of the couple by this time was taking his wife’s photograph, and I offered to take one of them both together. They then did the same for me and my friend. Of course, then we feel into conversation as I showed them the photograph I had taken of them so calm and still as they prayed and they then told us that it was ten years since they had last visited and that on that occasion, the husband had led the prayers and, as he had done so, he received a vision. It was so lovely to hear them tell of this wonderful gift. (I should mention that they were French and their English so good. I tried my best in French, but was much relived when the husband of my bible reading companion came along and could continue the conversation in much better fashion than I!) the French couple suggested we should pray together, in our own languages, and so we did – praying the Angelus. How lovely it was to be joined in prayer with these complete strangers who were also friends in Christ.

This was such a fitting end to this time I spent in the Holy Land. From beginning to end, there was so much that was good, so much that was both thought-provoking and prayer-provoking, so much that challenged me, consoled me, comforted me, encouraged me. There is much to sift through in my mind and in my prayer. There is much to try to make sense of that has troubled me or made me wonder what faith and commitment to God are all about – and what faith and commitment can lead people to do – both for good and ill – in the name of religion/God/gods. I feel such a sense of privilege for having been able to spend this time in the land that I have come to love so much but I also feel a sense of responsibility to tell the story of my time well, and to tell well the stories of the people I met and the places and sights I saw.

What gifts I have received.

Put a couple of liberals together and the world is put to rights

What an amazingly thought-provoking forty-eight hours it’s been, with the most intriguing encounter possible taking place on the Temple Mount this afternoon.

I discovered that the Temple Mount is open at present (although only for selected periods of the day) whereas whenever I have visited Jerusalem before, it has always been closed. I joined the queue and made my way up on to an amazing vista. Such space as that can’t be encountered anywhere else in the city. If you look at a map of the city from above, you can see how much ground the Temple Mount covers, but to be up there – in person, as it were, was quite something.

My encounters with some of the Muslims on the Mount varied, from the man who shouted at me, “Not you!” as I vaguely approached the entrance of the Al-Aqsa Mosque (having been able to freely visit Mosques in Istanbul, I knew here would be sensitive, but I wasn’t anticipating being yelled at!) to the women who were more than happy for me to photograph them in their wonderfully colourful clothing as they chatted and passed the time of day and onto the Managers of the Temple Mount who were happy for me to enquire about the provenance of the headscarf the older man was wearing.

At the time I visited, the Mount was open for just an hour, and so there was a sense that time was limited. With my trusty Guidebook, I walked around the Mount – away from the crowds to see what was going on elsewhere. There were boys playing football, people sitting chatting, children crying, young boy is chanting, “Allahu Akbar” – only to be outdone by a group of men who started to call out louder. In addition to one woman I saw praying near the Dome of the Prophet, there were men near the Golden Gate area who seemed to be studying and talking about the Qu’ran. This area is closed off to anyone –including Jesus! According to Jewish tradition, this is the gate through which the Messiah will make his entry into Jerusalem when he comes and so it was blocked up completely by the Muslims in the 16^th Century. (We won’t mention that Christians believe he’s already come once and won’t actually need a gateway when he comes again, shall we…)

Smoking is prohibited on the Temple Mount, as is kissing in addition to showing signs of affection. Visitors are to dress modestly and behave appropriately. I wonder then what would have been made by the encounter I had with a Liberal Jew and the conversation that ensued…

This chap, whose name I never did ask (very rude of me), had drifted into my sightline a few times: I’d noticed him because he was wearing a T-shirt with a small-ish Star of David motif on it. As I was taking a photograph of the Dome of the Ascension, he came over to me and asked if I knew what any of the things were that we were looking at. I explained what the particular feature in front of us was – and that I didn’t know who had ascended from there, but went on to say that Christians believed that Jesus had ascended from the top of the Mount of Olives – and that there is a footprint on the ground (I kid you not!) At this point, the chap asked if I was Christian, to which I said yes, I  asked if he was Jewish – which he was. We walked away from the Dome of the Ascension as there was a woman was obviously getting quite cross at our (non-believer) eyes inspecting this place and who began gesticulated quite clearly that we should get lost!

The conversation that followed ranged through various topics to do with faith, belief, practices, Inter-faith dialogue, clothing, expectation and disappointment of faith communities, how many places in which St Mary is meant to have died (or not, if you believe she was assumed into heaven). The chap was from Toronto, where his father is a Rabbi – also quite Liberal. Apparently the local Cardinal (I think it was a Cardinal!) is a friend and so was recently invited over for a Friday night Shabbat meal. How cool is that?!

At one point I remarked how amazing it was that a Jew and Christian should be standing on the Muslim site of the Temple Mount and having such a conversation. This chap (to whom I really ought to give a name – let’s call his David), so… David said that at his Synagogue, in May, there is to be an evening at which three Doctors of Theology – one Muslim, one Christian and one Jewish (and all women) – are to speak on ‘The things that bring us together and the things that divide’. I commented that I wished I could be there… Toronto in May – that could be possible, maybe?!

What a wonderful encounter… it really made my day! Oh, and the Dome of the Rock is a wonderful place too…

All this has led me further in thinking about whether there needs to be a physical place where God resides, and why it is that I love to visit this land. If Jesus promised to be with us always, and also gave us the Holy Spirit as our Comforter, then is there any need for a ‘place’ at all?

When I attended my Selection Conference for Ordained Ministry, I was asked how I knew there was a God. The chap who asked me seemed to an ‘okay’ person who was genuinely interested in me and my ‘story’ (rather than there being any sense of him being someone who was seeking to trick me) so it felt alright to look him in the eye and say, “I can’t tell you how I know there is a God, but what I can tell you is that I feel it, here in my heart.” It seemed to be enough… but, it is so hard to put into words, isn’t it?! There is a place within me where I know that God resides because I feel it. There is a place within each one of us where God resides. It’s not a place that is in any sense limited or limiting – to us or to God – but it is a place where God lives and God ‘is’.

So, no, I don’t think God does need a ‘place’ in which to reside, although we may need a place to be to become aware of God more fully and deeply and God may choose to reveal God’s self to us in particular ways, times and places. You may have a place already, you may wish to discover one. Look for it, seek it out – what you find may surprise you. Know this too though, the grace of God is within you – a grace that allows for continued exploration and expression, continued questioning and doubt, continued hope and faith, continued growth and transformation.

May your coming day, like mine was today, be filled with surprising encounters – encounters that make you think, that make you wonder, that make you hope, and also that make you glad to be alive.

Going back to go forward

A few weeks ago this period Extended Study Leave (ESL) began with a few days in Cardiff. It’s a city I’d previously visited for just a one night stay many moons ago, ahead of the ordination of a friend at Llandaff Cathedral. I knew I needed to get away at the start of this ESL or I’d just carry on carrying-on with the many ‘little’ tasks which needed to be completed before I could down tools and step away from the every-day task of ministry and ‘being a vicar’. I can’t begin to tell you the sense of privilege I feel at being given this time away; time to think, pray, rest, recover, reflect, read, explore… and so much more…

And so to Cardiff.

I had a really interesting few days – visiting places such as St Fagans, the building that houses the National Assembly for Wales, and Pierhead. St Fagan’s was such an interesting place, and really worth a visit if you are over that way – not least because you could spend the whole day there and it’s free! (When I said this to one of the staff he replied, “Ah yes, we’re frittering away your English taxes.” I made no reply!)

One of the highlights of the week was attending the mid-week Eucharist Service at Dewi Sant. It’s the only completely Welsh speaking church in the city. Everything is in Welsh, and I mean everything! Hymns, readings, prayers, notices (I got a mention in dispatches and the only reason I know this is that I recognised my name being said as you can’t say Deborah in any other way – even in Welsh!) I was quite happy to go with the flow of a Service in a foreign language knowing that I‘d have some clue as to what was going on by the shape of the Service (readings, hymns etc.) or the priest waving his hands around – for example, during the Eucharistic Prayer or at the Blessing. Imagine my relief then when the Service Book was opened for me at the relevant page and it was ‘simultaneous translation’ on the facing pages! (I can tell you it takes less space to write out (and to say) the Lord’s Prayer in English – just in case you ever feel you need to know.) They were a lovely congregation and made me feel very welcome at coffee afterwards. The Priest wasn’t too bad at being welcoming either… I guess I have to say that as he’s a friend!

I was thinking about that experience as I attended the Service this morning at St George’s Cathedral here in Jerusalem as well as the Service to close the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity – held at the Greek MelkiteCatholic Patriarch Church. I chose to attend both Services today, just as I chose to attend the Service in Cardiff and the experiences of each of them – apart and together has given me a lot of food for thought as I have been drifting around the streets of Jerusalem. This evening’s Service – at which well over a hundred people were gathered – was conducted predominantly in Arabic. A fulsome Order of Service has been provided – in various languages – and we were even given a translation of the Homily. I have mine here – in English, of course! (How I wish I could speak Arabic, it’s so beautiful to look at and intriguing to listen to.) As I came away from the Service this evening I found myself thinking not only about the language we use to speak in when worshipping, but also the ‘language’ we use to worship God – not the words themselves, but the actions, the expressions of faith, the way we do what we do and how so many say (either aloud or internally) what they do is ‘right’ and what others do is ‘wrong’. I found myself asking if we will ever speak the same ‘language’. Will Christians ever come together as a household of faith and agree on what words to use – agree in heart as well as in words of intent during a Week of Prayer for Christianity? Will the children of Abraham – Muslim and Jew and Christian alike – ever agree in heart that we are children of the same God, that we worship the same God, and that God wills for the good of each person God has created? This ‘good’, which is God’s love, reaches beyond faith alone, it reaches to gender, race, sexuality.

It’s not about what I think or believe is right – and therefore what I (wittingly or unwittingly) imply is ‘wrong’, it’s about what God has asked me to do, asked each person in creation, in fact, to do – and that is to love. As Jesus said, “The first commandment is this, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’” He went on to say, “Love your neighbour as yourself.

If we were to get the first of these two injunctions right – in whatever language, creed or practice we choose – and then work on the second with as much determination then maybe, just maybe, Christians will come together as a household of faith and agree in heart as well as spoken intent, and all the children of Abraham – Muslim and Jew and Christian alike – will agree in heart that we are children of the same God, that we worship the same God, and that God wills for the good of each person God has created. Wouldn’t it be just grand if this came to pass.

The Adjustment Bureau

Some reflections on the film...

It's an odd film - a sort of meditation on Free Will and the meaning of life. There's a Chairman who is 'known by many names' - by which I assume we are meant to infer it could be God or Allah or Yahweh. I wondered if everyone would 'get' this? I wonder if anyone else thinks it is meant to mean this?

Matt Damon plays a character who is struggling against those who 'adjust' the world we live in. We are led to wonder if they might be angels, or maybe not. They adjust the world, they adjust the way we think...

There is an interesting commentary suggested as to what happens when God (or the one who goes by any of the names given above) lets humanity get on with it on our own: the Middle Ages, World War One, the Holocaust, ruination of the world... Is this really what it is about? Is this the God that I believe in? Is this really how God lets the world be?

As I have mulled things over since seeing the film, there is a sense that this film is about 'getting the better' of God because, if we try hard enough and disobey enough and prove we want something else enough, God will give it to us anyway. How interesting that we are turned into petulant children and how God becomes a sort of fickle being who acts on a whim.

I don't believe that this is how it really is. I don't believe that this is how God really is. For sure, it is sometimes hard to know it to be so, when the world is hard place in which to be, and things happen like earthquakes and tsunami. These are not caused by God though. This is creation at work and, to our shame, we sometimes add to the horror of it all by a complete lack of care for the environment and for one another.

This life isn't about getting it all our own way - it is about helping others to have life. This is what God does for us. God gives us the intellect, skill - and grace if we accept it - God gives us all these gifts so that all people can live, so that all people can grow, so that all people can be saved and live at peace - with themselves and with others.

Healing (Trinity 20 Year C)

The accounts of the healing of Naaman and the Ten Lepers reveal to us the miraculous power of God to intervene and change things in our world. People continue to be healed in our own age by the power of God through healings that are miraculous and caused either only, apparently by prayer, or the power of medicine. Perhaps there might also be space for it being about both. In my twenties I was a member of the Healing Ministry Team at my church for six years before moving away to join the religious Community to which I belonged. The call to pray for people remained and it was – and is – something to which I am aware I am still called. I am not alone in this ministry today though; we all share in it each week as we pray the names on our Pew Leaflet of those people who are unwell. Some people have been there a long time as the need to pray for them continues. No-one can ever have enough prayer and, as we sing at Evensong sometimes, ‘The voice of prayer is never silent nor dies the strain of praise away’.

We all need prayer and this is the reality of our life. Life is sometimes messy and it is sometimes painful and, whilst there are amazing miracles that take place like the ones we have heard of today, life isn’t always like that. It wasn’t always like it in the time of the Prophets or in the time of Jesus – and it isn’t always like it now. The miracles of the Bible are recorded because they were just that, miraculous. God worked in these miraculous ways, but people will also have died – through old age, through natural causes, or, alas, at the hands of others. So what exactly are our prayers for? Why do we have to suffer? Why can’t we simply fall asleep and not wake up the next day – making our end peaceful and calm? I have no easy answers I am afraid – and I wrestle with these questions as much as the next person – but I do believe in miracles, I do believe God listens and I do believe God cares.

Let me tell you about Chris. Chris was a member of the Healing Ministry Team to which I belonged back in the 1990s and Chris was lovely. She was beautiful and vivacious – with a crackingly handsome husband and two delightful sons. Chris was first diagnosed with breast cancer in her early thirties and died about eighteen months after it returned when she was in her early forties. Her sons were in their early teens, and her husband was left completely bereft – wondering how to bring up their two sons on his own. Chris joined the Healing Team about five years after her first bout of cancer, and continued to be part of the Team until about three months before her death. Of course we prayed for her healing – the whole church did. Did God answer our prayers for her healing? It took a long time for many to realise it, but yes, God did. Chris died at peace – and this was healing in its most pure form for her. Visiting Chris wasn’t easy, but one always came away feeling thoughtful, with a sense that life – and death – was pared down to a truth and reality in a way that was true gift

This may seem a long way from lepers being healed – but I do think that, at some level, our fear of illness is very bound up with our fear of our own mortality. To a certain extent we probably all grow up thinking we are pretty invincible – if we think about it at all. Naaman will have thought this as he rose to a position of power and authority and realised he had leprosy, and so also will those ten men who pleaded for healing. ‘Our bodies are amazing,’ I often say to people, adding on, ‘until they begin to go wrong.’ When illness strikes, we are often forced into a place of being, or at least feeling, apart from others: not wishing to share our germs, not wanting to be seen in our PJs and, most of all for many of us, not wanting to be seen when we are vulnerable and low. Naaman may well have been fearful of passing on his disease; the lepers had already been cast out – what more could happen to them? Some of us may feel this when we are ill or depressed, anxious or upset about something,

There will be people known to you whose names you carry in your heart as you know something of the difficulty of life with which they live – be it health or wealth or life circumstance. Prayers for the healing of people’s difficulties takes many forms and, whilst many assume prayers for healing are only for the sick or dying, prayers for the many and varied situations in which people find themselves also have their place. We might pray for healing in the life the young person who will have received something from our Harvest giving last Sunday – the young person who was thrown out of their home because their father has found a new partner and ‘there’s no room for them now’. We might pray for healing in the life of the person recently moved into our road who seems to have no one visiting and who rarely goes out yet we see them looking out from behind the net curtains. They might just be a busy-body, but they might also simply be afraid of this new environment.

God’s healing presence changes things – not always in the way we might hope for, long for, or even expect. In all things, hope has its place: hope placed in a God who loves and who cares and who wills for our good. If you notice anything further than the healing of body in the two accounts of healing before us today, let it be this: it is not just the physical healing that is recorded – it is the healing of the spirit too. Naaman returns to Elisha and says, “Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel.” The Samaritan leper, ‘when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him.’ The hearts of both men were changed – both recognised the work of God. Both wanted God to change their lives – both sought out God’s work for their lives – and God came to them.

God cares. Our bodies and minds are frail and, alas, they will fail: for some of us this might be happening rather quicker than we might like! God cares though. In the midst of it all, God is to be found. God is to be found in the nurse who wipes away our tears. God is to be found in the friend who doesn’t cross the road when they see us coming, embarrassed because they don’t know what to say. God is to be found in the note that is dropped through our door by someone who has seen we are looking a bit tired or frail – and who invites us over for a cup of tea. God is always to be found – but we, like Naaman and like the Samaritan leper – and like Chris – need to look, to seek, to come to God – and also be willing to be found by him.

The invitation from our good and generous, caring and care-ful God is come. Come to me all you who are weary… fearful, ill, tired, lonely… and I will give you rest – in my open, gentle and loving embrace. Come.

Trinity 11: Do not be afraid

In the past few days I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the whole notion of fear: what it means, what terms we use - being scared, terrified, ‘be afraid, be very afraid’ – and what makes one experience tip over to a different level of fear?

Last Sunday evening some of you may have watched Dr Who Live – when the actor who is to play the 12^th Dr was revealed. Many of you will, like me, have had the experience as a child, of watching Dr Who from behind hands cupped over your eyes as the Daleks made yet another unwelcome appearance on the scene; this was scary stuff – and I was often afraid.

Some of you will recall the fear I experienced when I was told my father was seriously ill and journeyed with him through his rapid decline towards. Each time I visited him I feared it would be the last – and I still weep when I talk of his last days. They were peaceful, but oh, the aching fear of losing him.

We will each have different experiences of the things that frighten us – and I think one of the hardest things to admit as a Christian is that sometimes we are afraid. We know we aren’t meant to be afraid – because ‘God is with us’ and, ‘Jesus has walked the way before us’. Still though, for many of us there are times when this emotion dominates all. It is my experience, and I imagine it will be so for some of you too.

What do we do then with this disparity of what we feel and what we are apparently told not to feel?

We hear today of God telling Abraham and Jesus telling the disciples not to be afraid. ‘Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.’ ‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’

In context, Abram has already accepted the invitation of God to journey out into the desert. Abram and his wife Sarai have nowhere else to turn – except back, perhaps. They are old though, and they have no children; they have travelled to a different area to their main travelling companion. They are far from home, in the wilderness with no-one to care for them in their advancing years. We, with them, might well ask, ''What hope is there for them?'

It is into this situation of apparent hopelessness that God speaks, ‘Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.’ Now Abram has trusted God already – can he trust him still? Is there enough evidence to testify to the truth of God’s promises upon which to base an on-going trust? The promise of descendants more numerous as the stars I find most moving – and I wonder what Abram made of this. In a nation where the gift of children was so important, this promise of God’s must have been beguiling. Was there evidence enough though to trust God – and overcome the fear of death in a desert, fear of death with no children to follow, fear of appearing foolish to those who might hear of them in years to come?

Evidence is something we all desire, let’s face it – and I don’t imagine Abram was any different, nor the disciples either.

The disciples were told, ‘Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’ They are told not to be afraid in the face of Jesus inviting them to live a different kind of life, to walk a different pathway and to turn their backs on the ways of the world that demand treasure and glory in this world rather than in the next.

Rather like the way in which Abram had been asked to step out into a different kind of existence from the one he knew, the disciples were being asked to do the same. Giving up their worldly possessions, not relying on the goods and belongings that this world holds as valuable, trusting in God to provide for their needs – this was counter-cultural and demanding. How had Jesus proved himself? What evidence had he given his followers that his word was trustworthy and that the promises he made were ones that could assist them to put their fears aside?

These are the kind of questions so many people in our world ask – and we may well ask them too. What evidence is there? How can I trust when I am not certain or sure? What do I do when I am afraid?

I offer three points to lead to an answer.

Perhaps the first thing to notice is that God notices: God notices Abram is afraid and Jesus notices the fear of the disciples. God gives heed to our experience and faces it head on. God knows Abram must be afraid, Jesus knows the disciples must be afraid: God knows the reality of our existence and knows that there will be times of fear and anxiety. I believe it is empathy with our experience that makes God speak into it.

Secondly, God calls Abram by name and Jesus calls the disciples his little children. The relationship God has with each of us is one based on intimacy – where God knows us and responds in love to our needs. Jesus says, it is the father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom – love and continued blessing is what God desires to give us – always.

Thirdly and, perhaps, most importantly for us who come after – God makes good on his promises. God sticks with it and with us and brings good things to us – in time and in eternity. God doesn’t make the bad things go away, but God walks with us in the “night time of our fear” as we sing in the lovely song, ‘Brother, Sister let me serve you.’ Abram received what was promised to him, and the disciples continued to grow in faith and understanding, as well as being able to perform amazing miracles and teach people amazing things.

So being afraid is real, being frightened is real, being scared is real. The call to not be afraid is not a call to dismiss our fears but rather to let God be in it all, with us – in the messiness and confusion – for it is where he longs to be and where he has promised to be: “Lo, I am with you, even to the end of the age” Jesus said to the disciples – knowing something of what was to come to them as they travelled to share the gospel.

So if you do have times of fear – and I do too – remember these things: God notices you, God knows you, God wills for your good. Things may not change quickly; they may not change much at all – but God is right in there with you, whatever is going on. The reality of our human existence means that fear is part of life – but we do not have to go it alone.

One of my favourite verses is: 1 Corinthians 10:13 No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.

The ‘way out’ for me is living with the knowledge that God loves me – unutterably and beyond measure. It doesn’t mean I am never afraid, rather it means that I trust God is on my side. I pray that, when you are afraid, this is something that you also may be able to believe. Amen.

A Prayer to the Trinity

To you, O God, I sing my praise, 
full three - yet one, complete always. 
Create, redeem my heart anew, 
and sanctify my soul for you.

To you, all glorious Three-in-One 
may honour full and right be done.  
Release the joy and praise that ‘tis mine, 
and let me to your dance incline.

 
Deborah Snowball, Trinity Sunday 2013