Church life – Mum in Zone One

Seven Myths about Hospitality

Can you remember a time when you were on the receiving end of some generous hospitality? I bet you can. Hospitality can cover a range of things, and I believe that Christian hospitality is about showing the welcome to others that the Lord has shown us. Put another way, we move towards people, because our God has moved towards us. Often those receiving a warm welcome will remember it fondly, long after the person offering it has forgotten all about it.

Is your Sunday church gathering welcoming? I hope so. That’s a form of hospitality. But if we look in the Bible, I think it’s clear that we’re expected to open our homes to people and share with them, as a way of showing them love. There are some people who cannot do this – but not many. So assuming you are like most people, I want to encourage you by sharing seven myths I think we often wrongly believe about hospitality.

When I searched ‘Hospitality’ on Biblegateway, it came up with seven times the word is used in the New Testament. Coincidence? (Yep.) So I’ve interspersed my ‘myths’ with quotes about hospitality, so you can see for yourself. (NB: Myths and quotes not necessarily especially related!)

Note that a couple of people are commended in God’s word for their hospitality. What an honour! God must think it’s worth mentioning.

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13:2

You have to be good at baking
I think I used to believe this, but it is frankly ridiculous. There’s nothing in God’s word about having to be good at cooking or baking. People in the Bible did work hard at it, as far as I can tell. However, they didn’t have the mod cons we’ve got. As my mam says, ‘Grandma used to say that homemade is always best, but she didn’t shop at M&S.’

Having said that, I do think that the more love and time we invest in getting good at making something to bless people with, the more we’ll enjoy sharing it with those people. There is something special about eating something that someone has lovingly prepared with their own hands, even if it’s chocolate crispy cakes. (I’ve decided they’re one of my all-time favourite cakes, by the way. Give me an easter nest over a swanky French macaron any day of the year.)

But if you hate baking, don’t have the equipment, or don’t have time, then shop-bought with joy is still an absolute delight.

2. You have to entertain
As far as I can tell, entertaining is a performance. I’m showing my guests what I can do. That means that if they perform well for me when I go to their home, I’m obliged to perform just as well – or hopefully better! – when they visit me.

This is a lot of pressure. It’s also quite self-serving, when you really stop to think about it. If my aim is to impress my guests, and even make them feel inferior, then I’m not loving them. When we’re inviting people into our home, we’re not putting on a show: we’re inviting them to join in with something beautiful, which is a household living by God’s grace. “Come and see,” we’re saying to them. “The Lord is good.”

Even if you’re ‘entertained’ by someone else, why not try inviting them over and just serving them selflessly? If your home is small and scruffy compared to theirs, it’s an opportunity to boast in Christ. He’s all we need in our homes to have a good time.

No widow may be put on the list of widows unless she is over sixty, has been faithful to her husband, and is well known for her good deeds, such as bringing up children, showing hospitality, washing the feet of the Lord’s people, helping those in trouble and devoting herself to all kinds of good deeds. 1 Timothy 5:9-10

3. You have to have money and space
Hospitality does cost money, there’s no denying it. But God knows our means. He can use what I offer up in hospitality and bless people with it. Inviting someone in for a hot drink is probably something we can all afford to do. You could even ask them to bring the biscuits! (Shop-bought is fine.)

Let’s remember that the early church were poor. If God can enable them to be hospitable then he can certainly do it for us. We can pray and ask God to multiply our food so we have enough. We can put others first and see how the Lord provides everything we need.

Don’t underestimate the power of simple, humble hospitality offered in faith.

I’ve written before about how blessed I’ve been when people with very little space have invited me into their home. Not to put down anyone with lots of space, but when someone in a tiny one bedroom flat invites my entire family over for dinner, it’s the kind of humble, Christ-like selflessness that sticks with me.

We ought therefore to show hospitality to such people so that we may work together for the truth. 3 John 1:8

4. It’s a cultural thing
Some cultures are more hospitable than others. I recently visited a country which is known for its hospitality. I’m also northern, where people tend to pop round for a cup of tea without warning. But now I live in London, which is known for being inhospitable and where you have to book cups of coffee weeks in advance. So yes, hospitality is a cultural thing.

But the Kingdom of God is a hospitable culture. Our King welcomes anyone! So if we live in a community – like London – that’s not hospitable, it’s really easy for us to shine like stars by opening our homes to others. And if you’re not from a background that values hospitality, then you can rejoice! The Holy Spirit has made you new. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if our family and friends noticed how much more welcoming we’re becoming, year after year?

[Publius] welcomed us to his home and showed us generous hospitality for three days. Acts 28.7

5. You have to be an extrovert
It’s great that people nowadays are often aware of how they’re energised, whether it’s by being alone or being with others. But God doesn’t command just the extroverts to practise hospitality. And he also knows us and what we need.

We all need to be around people, whether we find it draining or not. And remember that being hospitable doesn’t mean you have to be the life and soul of the party. You can go and wash the dishes while everyone else chats, if that’s what you need to do.

I’m not trying to burden anyone, but just as extroverts need time alone, praying and reading God’s word, so introverts need to spend time with other people, loving and serving them. And the Lord is so kind – he thwarts our plans when they would do us harm! (He’s cancelled many of my plans which in hindsight would’ve tipped me over the edge!)

Gaius, whose hospitality I and the whole church here enjoy, sends you his greetings. Romans 16:23

6. It’s just not for me.
Some people will find hospitality comes naturally to them and others won’t. Some people find prayer easier than others. Some people are naturally joyful and positive; others aren’t. But we’re all called to joy, prayer and hospitality. I do know some people who actually can’t invite people over for different reasons. But there are other ways to be hospitable, and I’ve seen these people find creative ways to show hospitality. You can invite people out for coffee or food. You can organise a social. You can invite yourself over to someone’s house and offer to cook. These are all ways to move towards people with love.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.” Romans 12:12-13

7. It’s not important
Satan hates hospitality. If you don’t believe me, invite some people over. See how many ways you’re tempted to sin against your guests, your family, and anyone else who you come across. Or see how the thing you’ve cooked thirty-seven times before collapses or gets dropped. Or notice how plans have to be cancelled and rearranged over and over.

God’s word says, “How good and pleasant it is
when God’s people live together in unity!” Psalm 133.1
I’m convinced that hospitality is one way that unity is nurtured and maintained. Remember that the early church”devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” Acts 2.42.
As we eat and drink with people, we’re either sharing fellowship or inviting people into the fellowship they could have in Christ. We’re imitating our generous God to those who know him or those who don’t. Satan hates this and the Lord loves it. Don’t underestimate it.

So if you consider yourself a pretty hospitable person or if you’ve never tried it – please be encouraged. Put on the armour of God and go out there and take the next step.

Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. 1 Peter 4:9

Further reading: ‘Extraordinary Hospitality (For Ordinary People)‘ – read my thoughts on it here. Also ‘The Ministry of a Messy House’ by Amanda Robbie is a classic I keep coming back to.

Not what I ordered

I recently taught a lesson to the children at church about Matthew 7:7-12. (I could remember teaching it before, not too long ago, so the Lord must have really wanted me to pay attention this time!)

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?”

This is an easy one to illustrate with kids. You just need bread and a stone. Of course, that’s one of the ways that Jesus is a genius. It’s so simple, a child can understand it. And yet it’s so profound that the Sunday School teacher is still pondering it weeks later.

I think it might be inevitable that when talking about asking God for things and being given those things, we end up talking about the times when we don’t get what we ask for.

I’m hoping this wasn’t a distortion but I talked to the children about how, with their parents, sometimes they ask for the stone, but they’re given the bread. Our mums and dads don’t want us to break our teeth. We might stomp and whine and pout because we really do want that stone. But our parents love us, so they keep saying ‘no.’

I hope we can see how our Heavenly Father is like this. I ask for things that seem really good to me, but when he says ‘no’ and gives me something else instead, I can trust that he is acting for my good.

How do I know? As Jesus says, ‘If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!’

As an aside – If you’re reading or watching stuff that tells you to always say ‘yes’ to your children, even when they’re asking for the wrong things, please reject this. Our children do not know what’s good for them. That’s one of the reasons God gave them parents. ‘No’ is often the kindest thing you can say to your child.

But back to me, in Sunday School, thinking, ‘I recently used these exact props – what did I use for a snake last time?’, another thought struck me.

Sometimes, we’re given good gifts we don’t want. They don’t taste like a freshly baked bread roll or some beer-battered haddock. But they’re given to us by God for our good. I know not everything is called a gift, so I don’t want to stretch this out too far. But I’ve been given trials, which I did not ask, seek or knock for. They don’t seem good to me. But is my Heavenly Father a better parent than I am? Yes, a thousand times yes.

I give my children things they don’t want: discipline, healthy food, lessons in tidying up after themselves. This is for their good. They might not trust me, but they should!

How much more should I trust my Heavenly Father? He has given me a chronic illness that I didn’t want. I still don’t want it. But even now I can see that he is using it to teach me to depend more on him, which is such a good thing. I can give thanks to him, not just for the medicine and the doctors, but even for giving me this trial.

So next time your child doesn’t want what you’ve given him or her (which happens rather frequently for me, anyone else?), may it remind you to give thanks for what God has given you that you neither sought or asked for.

Book Review – When Sorrows Like Sea Billows Roll

I’ve been reading a brilliant book that I think you all should read. You can buy it here. I’d suggest you by 5 copies and give them out to people you love.

It’s an extraordinary testimony of how the Lord sustained a family through the unimaginable. It’s the sort of story that would keep you awake at night, worrying it might happen to you. Except that if you read the book, you won’t do that. You come away with a bigger view of God’s goodness, faithfulness and generous provision.

The chapters are short, so this could be read by a new parent who’s not getting enough sleep, or even by someone who is suffering a hard time themselves. Brad Franklin is honest and down to earth and clearly has a pastor’s heart. He’s full of encouragement. Every time I’ve picked this book up to read a section, I’ve come away feeling encouraged. It’s quite miraculous.

If you don’t want to know the story, just go ahead and buy a copy here. As always, I’m not getting anything for telling you this. I was given a copy of this book by a lovely lady who actually reads my blog (Hi Catherine!) who I met at a wedding. My decision to recommend the book to you was entirely my own.

SPOILER ALERT: Read on if you’d like to know the context.

Brad Franklin’s wife Megan died very suddenly at the end of December 2019. She was eight months pregnant with their seventh child. The child survived, but as Megan went to be with Jesus, Brad was left alone with seven children, including a newborn.

Except he wasn’t alone. This is the story of how God provided for him and his family. I know some of his boys because I work in their school. They are a delight. I wish this hadn’t happened to them, but I trust that God in his wisdom is working for their good. And reading more about their story has helped me to see that even when the unthinkable happens – yes, even then – God is good.

If you’re having a hard time right now and just trying to keep your head above water, here are some words from Brad:

Christian, if the sun goes down and you still trust in Christ for your salvation, if you still love God and want to serve him – that day is a success. Whatever else happened that day, God has kept you. That’s a good day. (p.138)

We will all suffer in this life. Jesus said we’ll have trouble. Books like this can help to prepare us for hardships, and equip us to help others through those times, too. God gives us church family, and he displays his glory through them. This is largely a book about the glory of the church. Brad writes, ‘I so desperately wanted God to be glorified in healing Megan. That didn’t happen, but he was glory in ways I didn’t anticipate.‘ (p.93) I know, this brought tears to my eyes as I read it in an A&E waiting room a couple of weeks ago.

Praise God for his manifold wisdom. Brad isn’t just saying these things because they sound like the right things to say. You can tell that he really means them.

When things get serious, or even tragic, knowing Jesus really does make all the difference in the world.

‘When peace like a river attenders my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.’
Horatio G. Spafford

“In this world you will have trouble.
But take heart! I have overcome the world.“John 16.33

Mrs Beaver, Mrs Weasley & Mrs H.

…her good deeds, such as bringing up children, showing hospitality, washing the feet of the Lord’s people, helping those in trouble and devoting herself to all kinds of good deeds. 1 Timothy 5:10

“Be warned, they’ve changed it a bit.” That’s what a friend said to me before I took my family to see the National Theatre’s production of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe in the West End back in August. This made me a little nervous. Had they removed Aslan? Did he not bother dying for Edmund? Would The White Witch Jadis turn out to be just misunderstood?

I was pleasantly surprised. It was really good! There was a strange line at the end about Lucy which muddied the otherwise-quite-clear message, but that’s not what I’m here to write to you about today. True to form, I’ve got thoughts about Mrs Beaver.

To me, there are very few more cosy and festive things to do than to read aloud together The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. And one of my favourite parts is when the children, cold, tired, hungry and afraid, arrive at the Beavers’ dam. (I love beavers anyway, they’re amazing! But that’s not the point.) They’re so welcoming and hospitable, feeding them a good hot meal, serving them tea and telling them about Aslan. It’s warming in all the ways.

Just as the frying pan was nicely hissing Peter and Mr. Beaver came in with the fish which Mr. Beaver had already opened with his knife and cleaned out in the open air. You can think how good the new-caught fish smelled while they were frying and how the hungry children longed for them to be done and how very much hungrier still they had become before Mrs. Beaver said, “Now we’re nearly ready.”
CS Lewis, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, Chapter VII, A Day with the Beavers

This simple, satisfying meal offered by disciples of Aslan is the antithesis of the Witch’s Turkish Delight which left Edmund feeling sick and wanting more. The meal with the Beavers is a picture of living in the Kingdom of God. It’s not nothing! (Even Spark Notes agrees with me, if you think I’ve gone mad.)

In the book, Mr Beaver and Peter go out and hunt the fish while Mrs Beaver and the girls prepare the meal and lay the table. In the National Theatre production, Mrs Beaver is out in the woods as a secret agent, utterly capable, while Mr Beaver is back in the dam, cooking the meal: a vegan hotpot. He’s also repeatedly foolish and incompetent and the butt of several jokes.

Why do this? Is it just a joke? I feel like the vegan hotpot touch probably is. But is our culture now afraid of presenting a female character as hospitable? Is it an insult to women to have them ‘just’ cooking a meal and ‘relegated’ to the role of hospitality? And what does it say about men? The strong, brave Mr Beaver was emasculated. These things seem subtle, harmless and even amusing. But they’re a rejection of what God has made. Husbands are usually physically stronger and thus able to go out and provide for their family. Wives are usually able to be mothers: to nurture, to make a house a home and to provide a safe place for weary wanderers. A culture which rejects God rejects this. CS Lewis did not, and neither should we.

Of course, women can work outside of the home and men can cook. Plus, being a vegan is not wrong! But in a culture that’s deconstructed both femininity and masculinity and doesn’t know how to rebuild them, I think we really need to embrace what God has said about the roles of men and women and not to be ashamed.

We all want to be welcomed into the dam. We all love it when Harry Potter gets to stay with the Weasleys, with Mrs Weasley laying out their clean robes on their beds and whizzing up lashings of mashed potato for dinner. So I ask you, do any of us want to be the Mrs Weasleys of the world?

I don’t know if you’ve seen the latest adaptation of James Herriot’s All Creatures Great and Small. (For non UK readers, these are semi-autobiographical stories of life as a rural vet in Yorkshire.) The house they all live in is off-the-charts beautiful. There’s always a hot meal, a newly mopped floor and a warming fire. Who doesn’t love it when Mrs Hall, the housekeeper, provides yet another warming fry-up for the vets after a long night out on the hills? We all want the good roast dinner, the nice cup of tea and the clean clothes, neatly folded. Don’t we see the value of it?

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. Hebrews 13:2

But are we willing to be the Mrs Beaver, the Molly, the Mrs H? I hope so. Don’t despise it. There’s such power in it. The world calls it needless drudgery, good for nothing. But it’s a lie. Hospitality is mighty, and Satan knows it. Why else would he attack it? So I say to you, Go Forth and Welcome. Who knows how God will use it for his glory?

And when they had finished the fish Mrs. Beaver brought unexpectedly out of the oven a great and gloriously sticky marmalade roll, steaming hot, and at the same time moved the kettle on to the fire, so that when they had finished the marmalade roll the tea was made and ready to be poured out. And when each person had got his (or her) cup of tea, each person shoved back his (or her) stool so as to be able to lean against the wall and gave a long sigh of contentment.
ibid.

A Life Less Ordinary

“Hospitality seeks to turn strangers into friends.” (p.59.)

The latest Covid jargon in the UK is the ‘roadmap to recovery.’ This means that after a year (on-and-off) of not being allowed to see our friends or family, especially not indoors, we are relearning how to talk to people and make them cups of tea. I had a friend over last week to sit in the garden and neither of us could remember how to string a sentence together. So let’s just say we might be rusty, but it’s also an optimistic time as we begin to make tentative plans.

Wherever you are in the world, as things begin to open up again I wonder if you feel excited, nervous or a bit reluctant. There’s a whole spectrum of people in this world and I don’t assume that everyone is purely delighted by the prospect of filling up the calendar again with social engagements, big or small.

But this past year God has given us a chance to reflect on what we miss and what we don’t miss; what we want to reintroduce and what we’re happy to ditch. Perhaps we’ve realised that our lives were full of after-school clubs or that we watched too much TV. Maybe we’ve realised we were filling up our time with too much socialising and not allowing enough time to pray, reflect and daydream.

I feel like this could be a turning point. It’s an unprecedented opportunity to reassess our priorities. One thing we really should do as we fill up our (real or mental) diaries again (it’s going to happen, friends) is to think about God’s priorities for us. And for that, we need to look at what his word tells us. One thing we are commanded to be, as God’s children, is hospitable.

If you’re thinking that hospitality is for some people and not others, I’m here to break it to you that we’re commanded to show hospitality repeatedly in the New Testament and God doesn’t give any exceptions (see below for a few examples*). But this is a good thing! Just think how hospitable God has been to us. And now we get to follow Christ’s example and find out what real life is in store for us when we do.

You might be wondering how Christ has shown hospitality. Didn’t he usually go to other people’s houses for dinner? He didn’t even have his own house! That’s where we need to learn what hospitality really is. I’ve just read a book all about it and I’d love to recommend it to you. It’s called “Extraordinary Hospitality (for ordinary people)” by Carolyn Lacey. In the book she outlines seven characteristics of hospitality: generosity, compassion, humility, persistence, awareness (of people’s needs), inclusivity and sacrifice. When you look at these, it’s clear to see that our Lord Jesus has shown us hospitality in spades.

There are all kinds of pressures on our time, so that if we want to prioritise the right things, we will have to make a conscious effort. If we just ‘go with the flow,’ we’ll find our days full before we’ve had chance to do any sort of discernment. The people who have blessed me most in my life with their hospitality are people who make conscious choices to do less structured things and allow more time for humble cups of tea and spontaneous dinner guests. It didn’t happen by default: they made it happen.

This is not a book (just) for people who can cook or who have their own home or a big table or who have the gift of hospitality. Although it would be a blessing to those people too. It’s not intimidating, judgemental or burdensome. It’s short, gentle and practical. And she includes some great stories.**

We’ve all (I hope) been on the receiving end of hospitality. The welcome as you walk into a gathering, the meal dropped off when you’ve just had a baby, the invite for a coffee and a chat. I remember visiting the homes of hospitable women decades later, long after they’ve forgotten I was ever there. Hospitality is powerful. I’d love to learn how to be more like Jesus in this way.

A wise friend of mine gave a talk for the women at at our church about hospitality and she described hospitality as ‘moving towards people.’ As social distancing eases, do you think you can move towards people, for Jesus’ sake? I hope so.

“As we sacrifice our time, energy, resources and comfort in order to welcome other, we can be confident that Jesus will reward us abundantly.” p. 121.

(P.S. At no point in this book does Carolyn Lacey tell you to get up at 5 o’clock in the morning. Just saying. But if that’s your thing, please carry on and God bless you!)

*Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. (Romans 12:13); Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2);
Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. (1 Peter 4:9)

**I’m not paid for this (or any other blog post I ever write) but I was sent a review copy of this book. I only recommend books I really like.

Two Sisters

“…and with your blood you purchased for God
persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.”

This is a story about two sisters. One of them is me; the other is Ta.*

We were born twelve days apart in 1982 on opposite sides of the globe: she in Laos; I in Stockton-on-Tees. We each had an older brother, born in ’79.

Other than our genders, birthdays and our family head-counts, we had pretty much nothing in common. We would probably never meet.

My parents were English working-class, which for them meant they were hard-working and didn’t waste anything. Ta’s parents were also working-class, which meant they would buy and sell anything they could get their hands on.

In 1988, aged 5, I moved from an industrial town to a village, 13 miles away. In 1989, Ta’s family fled the civil war in Laos and arrived at a refugee camp in Thailand. I don’t know what that was like. How could I? My greatest concern in 1989 was what colour my new bike would be.

Later that year, when I was going into Top Infants, Ta and her brother and mum moved to England. While Ta was getting used to the cold weather and the sea of white faces with big noses, I was rollerskating round my village without a care in the world.

This is hard to write, but tragedy struck Ta’s family when her dear brother lost his life to Leukaemia. This is a weight of grief and loss that I am yet to experience.

But God was with Ta.

This is where our roles, in some ways, flip. Ta was able to attend a highly prestigious public school** in Oxfordshire. Here she worked extremely hard, became an excellent violinist and got a place at a top university to study medicine.

Meanwhile, I was at my local comp, an average violinist, but also working hard and getting a place at a coveted university – to study English.

Aged 18, I heard about Jesus from my brother. I’d heard of Jesus before, naturally, but I didn’t know the gospel. During ‘upper sixth’ (Year 13), the Lord, against all odds, saved me. Full of mercy, he opened my eyes to the truth that I desperately needed a saviour, the Lord Jesus.

The following year, Ta started university and made friends with some Christians. She also became a very strong rower. Over the course of that year, she too was saved by God’s amazing grace.

Now, although we’d never met, we had become members of one body. We had become sisters in Christ.

It was at our different universities, where I felt very northern and Ta felt very foreign, that we met the Civil Engineers, born in the same hospital in Kent, who were soon to become our husbands. Both men were brought up in sheltered Christian homes, both musically talented, both the kind of men who throw children up in the air just-that-little-bit-too-high but who always catch them. These men had never met each other, but they could easily become friends.

In 2008 when Ta and I met, she was engaged to be married and I’d been married for two years. One of us was a white, northern teacher who was educated in politics by Randy Newman and history by Billy Joel. The other was a middle-class girl who sounds English but looks East Asian and who’s never heard of Genesis (the band, not the book). She was sporty, musical and was about to gain a PhD. We met at a new church plant on a council estate, where neither of us was in our comfort zones but both of us just wanted to help out.

This is where Jesus began to grow us together as dear, dear friends. Slowly but surely, we came to form a friendship which goes beyond birthplace, background or education. Together we grew up, becoming more like Jesus amidst the mess of this fallen world and our own repentance and faith. We’ve shared disappointments, successes and major life events.

In 2012, on the day my brother telephoned to tell me that his brain scan had shown a benign brain tumour, it was Ta that I went to visit. She listened to me, shocked and anxious and incoherent as I was. Ta has shown me, through this and other crises, that sometimes it’s OK not to know what to say. Sometimes it’s not appropriate to try to cheer a person up. She’s taught me how to share in sorrows, as well as joys.

We’ve seen friends come and go, as is the nature of city life.
We’ve seen friends walk away from the faith and others be saved.
We’ve prayed for friends together when neither of us new what to say or do.

Together we’ve been raising seven children to love and follow the Lord Jesus. We’ve struggled through sleepless nights, toddler bibles and discipline. We’ve sat together at baptisms, Colin Buchanan concerts and parenting seminars. We’ve been on holiday together, we’ve been to my parents’ together and lately we’ve just about survived Zoom church together.

Ta has taught me how to listen. She’s tried to teach me how to make sourdough. She’s taught me how to welcome people. She’s taught me how to persevere. She’s been gracious. She’s made me laugh.

And today, as I write this, Ta and her family are moving house. They’re moving to look after her parents, since her culture and her faith have taught her to respect and care for them. Next week her family will say goodbye to our church family.

For over 12 years, we’ve been family. This is longer than I spent in compulsory education. And I could argue that I’ve grown up more in the past 12 years than I did with my beloved school friends.

As we say goodbye, I hope that we’ll always be friends, just as we’ll always be sisters. But I’ll miss seeing her week-in, week-out and being able to pop round for kids’ tea. And our husbands, who did indeed become close friends, will miss each other, too.

Because of Christ and his powerful Spirit, it’s very hard for me to say goodbye to this girl from Laos. It would have seemed impossible to 5 year-old-me, or even 15-year-old me, that a Public School girl from Oxfordshire could mean so much to me. But Jesus does the impossible.

And I will try to trust that Christ, the best of friends, who has brought me safe thus far, still has good things in store for me.

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.
1 Peter 2:9-10.

*Ta is pronounced “Da” and rhymes with car. I’ve seen Ta have to explain this over and over again at parties, poor woman.

**In England, a public school is an old, very prestigious fee-paying school. A ‘comp’ is a comprehensive state school. ‘Comprehensive’ means non-selective – i.e. anyone is welcome!

Sing!

Sing joyfully to the Lord, you righteous;
    it is fitting for the upright to praise him.
Praise the Lord with the harp;
    make music to him on the ten-stringed lyre.
Sing to him a new song;
    play skilfully, and shout for joy.

For the word of the Lord is right and true;
he is faithful in all he does.
The Lord loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of his unfailing love. Psalm 33:1-5

When did you last belt out a song to the Lord?

In God’s word the people of God are commanded over and over again to sing praises to our God. Why? Does he need it? Of course not. We need it.

But since your church stopped gathering, have you still been singing?

It’s easy for me to say. I grew up with a Dad who was forever singing. Singing was just the usual background noise. I only really realised this when I got to university and met Andy, who was to become a brother to me in those years. Someone said to me once, “Have you noticed that Andy’s always singing?” I said, “No, like when?” She said, “Well he’s singing right now.” No, I hadn’t noticed, because I was used to it.

Then I married Mike, who comes from a household of singers (i.e. people who sing) and who was to become a worship leader. So we are a family who will put on worship music and sing along any day of the week. On a Sunday morning in Lockdown we will stand in our living room together and sing our hearts out. The Oompa Loompas who live next door watch us through the window as though we’re mad.

Sing to God, sing in praise of his name,
extol him who rides on the clouds^[b];
rejoice before him – his name is the Lord. Psalm 68:4

But even with all this habitual singing, I’ve also been commanding myself to sing. Because even though we’ll sing for no good reason, actually as Christians we always have good reasons to sing. Every day we have a God who is worthy of praise. Every day our hearts are tempted to grow cold to this God. Every day the world, the flesh and Satan are trying to get us to worship something else.

So when you’re fed up, I mean really fed up of the same parks, the same bike rides, the same four walls, the same arguments about school work and the same uncertainty about when you will ever see your relatives again, sing. I will say it again, sing!

Sing the gospel. Sing of your God. Sing of all his mighty works. Sing of all he’s done for you. Sing to yourself. Sing to your children. Sing to your God. Sing with the angels in heaven. If Paul and Silas could sing in prison, then I can sing in Lockdown.

And it’s never been easier to get hold of worship music to sing along to. Remember when we had to buy CD’s? We can thank God for providing Youtube, Spotify and all those other ones young people use.

If you’re lacking strength for today, sing. If you’re lacking hope for tomorrow, sing. It’s so good for you. Even the world is now realising how good it is to sing. Schools who no longer sing hymns are having singing assemblies where they sing rousing secular hymns from Hollywood blockbusters. (I mentioned this here, too.) But praise the Lord! He’s put a better song in our mouths.

Sing the praises of the Lord, you his faithful people;
    praise his holy name.
For his anger lasts only a moment,
    but his favour lasts a lifetime;
weeping may stay for the night,
    but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm 30:3-5

Dear Gail Porter

Image result for top of the pops free image

Since watching the recent BBC documentary, Being Gail Porter, I’ve felt compelled to write a response. Following the tragic death of Caroline Flack last weekend, I can’t help but see the similarities between these two women. Both were children’s TV presenters who went on to host hugely successful mainstream TV shows. Both suffered at the hands of the media and were left with severe mental health issues. Both were idolised and derided. Thankfully, Gail is still with us, but it could so easily have not been so.

Here are some simple thoughts, in the form of an open letter.

Dear Gail,

I watched your fascinating and moving documentary. Thank you for sharing your experiences with us. I was a teen of the nineties, so your Top of the Pops years were my Top of the Pops years, too. Watching the clips of your time on the show was like flicking through a photo album of my formative years.

I’m not a psychologist or a medic or a counsellor of any kind. I don’t claim to have a useful diagnosis for you and I won’t be recommending any self-help books that I think will give you the answers you need. But if you were my friend (and I do have friends who share various things in common with you), this is what I would love to say.

I firstly wanted to say how sorry I am. I’m sorry for all the ways you’ve been hurt and let down. The clip from Never Mind the Buzzcocks was hard to watch, and I’m sure it was just a taste of all you’ve experienced. I’m sorry that our society is such a dangerous place.

You seemed like you were searching for answers – what had happened to you? Where had it all gone wrong and why? I don’t know you – we’ve never met – but I can tell you what I believe to be true.

The Bible says that we’re made in God’s image – each and every one of us. That means we’re hugely valuable and very precious. We’re made for relationships, first and foremost with Him, our creator. We’re made for freedom, for joy, for good works and for love. We have a purpose; that purpose is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. God’s word says that there are good works which he planned in advance for us to do. So when we’re lonely or we feel unloved or lost, it’s often because something’s gone very wrong with the relationship between God and the people he’s made. Living my own way, I might feel free at first; I might have a right-rollicking good time. But like a fish out of water, I’m soon left floundering and gasping for oxygen.

The trouble is, God seeks our good – but people are not like that. People take advantage of us and treat us harshly. In the hands of others, rather than God, we can be elevated and then crushed. We can be flattered and then mocked. We can be bolstered and then betrayed. We can be admired and then shamed. People hurt us. There’s no doubt that you have been catastrophically failed by those around you and by our culture at large. If we truly are made to be loved and to love, then it’s no wonder that you’ve suffered such mental health problems as a result of all that’s happened to you. If we’re just mammals; if sex is just fun; if my body is just flesh and bones, then why does it hurt so much?

“I just wish I was a better person.” You said this in the film when you were feeling very low after attending an event in Westminster. I don’t know exactly that you meant at the time, or if you often feel like that, but I think it’s a feeling most people have. We’ve all done things we wish we hadn’t and said things we feel guilty about. I think most of us have felt truly ashamed at times. I know I have, and still do. I definitely wish I were a better person!

But I’ve found hope. Jesus humbles me and then lifts me up. He does the opposite of the tabloids (who are, of course, acting on behalf of the people who read them). He’s the antithesis of social media. Jesus tells me that I’m much worse than I think I am. Then he offers me real hope because I’m also more loved than I’ve ever deserved or even imagined. In Jesus I have a friend who’ll never betray me, who’ll never break his promises and who’ll always protect me. One of the ways that he loves me best is by reminding me that he is the King at the centre of the universe. This is so liberating.

Jesus covers my shame. In the Garden of Eden (Genesis 3), Adam and Eve brought shame upon themselves by disobeying God’s perfect rule. They immediately felt ashamed because they were naked, so they tried to hide. Ever since then, every human being has brought shame upon themselves by following in Adam and Eve’s footsteps. If we don’t feel shame, we really are in trouble because the truth is we do stand naked before God and he sees it all. But in the Garden, even as God was judging Adam and Eve, he clothed them.

He covered their nakedness. This was a sign that one day he would remove their shame by clothing them with perfection. Jesus came to live the beautiful life that none of us has been able to live. He came to be the “better person” that none of us can be. And if we trust in him, he clothes us with his “righteousness,” which is Bible-speak for a life perfectly lived. It’s a clean, pure, no-regrets and full-of-joy life. It’s our own Wikipedia page deleted and replaced with a perfect track record – the life we should have lived. This is what Jesus offers us.

I believe that God would take your pain and heal you; he would take your shame and clothe you, he would take your loneliness and love you; he would take your emptiness and fill you. All you have to do is turn to him, say sorry, and ask.

One more thing. At the end of the documentary we saw you singing in a choir. I hope that’s been beneficial to your mental health, as you hoped it would be. I’m sure you know this, but it’s worth being reminded that every single week there is a free place you can go to where you can sing your heart out alongside a community of broken-but-healing friends. They sing from a Book which reminds them to sing because it’s so good for the soul – and because it pleases their Father in Heaven.

But let all who take refuge in you be glad;
let them ever sing for joy.
Spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may rejoice in you.

Surely, Lord, you bless the righteous;
you surround them with your favour as with a shield.
Psalm 5:11-12

Instead of your shame
    you will receive a double portion,
and instead of disgrace
    you will rejoice in your inheritance.
And so you will inherit a double portion in your land,
    and everlasting joy will be yours.
Isaiah 61.7

Free Refreshments, Anyone?

“…encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace.”

How do you feel about words? Do you remember things people have said to you?

I used to be able to remember the exact words people had said, and find it odd that others couldn’t. They’d be telling a story and I’d think, ‘that’s not how they said it! Why the paraphrasing?’ Now I feel increasingly frustrated that my memory isn’t what it used to be. I don’t know if it’s just natural as you get older, but I think there might be four other contributing factors living in my house, who have given me ten years of broken sleep.

But I do still remember things people have said to me, if not verbatim. I put both my husband and my brother on edge when I start a sentence with, “I remember you said once…” because it’s usually something they neither remember saying nor still agree with. On the plus side, at least they know I listen!

The other day I found a Thank You card someone had sent me in 2014 after a camp we were on together. As I read it I realised that I had remembered, 5 years on, an exact phrase from the card which had encouraged me, and treasured it in my heart. It wasn’t anything spectacular – in fact, if you’re interested, it was that she appreciated our “down-to-earthness” – but I’d hung on to it nevertheless.

This got me thinking that we underestimate how much adults need and appreciate encouragement. We know that children need to be affirmed. Teachers in school know to praise good behaviour much more than they rebuke the bad. If you’ve read any parenting books or online articles you’ll have been told to do the same with your own children. I wrote a blog post years ago about this which I still recommend!

It’s true that children love to be praised, especially for specific things. So not just “oh aren’t you clever!” which can sound a bit false, but “I’ve noticed that your handwriting is really improving, you’ve clearly been working hard on it. Well done!” And if we can affirm character traits in our children, then all the better. “You’ve been so kind at sharing your Christmas chocolate with people,” and even, “that reminds me of how God shares all the good things in our lives with us.” Children love this and it’s really effective, but when do we think we grow out of our thirst for encouragement?

I’m not convinced we ever do.

I mean, honestly, which of us would not be thrilled if tomorrow a friend gave us a sincere, specific word of affirmation and then shared how it reminded them in some way of what God is like? Or it showed them how God has been working in us?

I think this is a wonderful way to be a blessing to our church family and wider community. And it doesn’t cost a thing! Plus, the more you do it the more it will become a good habit. Here are some examples of ways you could bless people with your words:

If you have people in your church who have been serving in the same way for years, now is the time to thank them. They’re the least likely people to be thanked or encouraged for what they do. The longer someone serves, the more they’re taken for granted.
If you take one encouragement from the Sunday sermon, go up to your pastor and tell him it. Don’t assume he knows!
If you have a visiting preacher at your church, email him the following day to thank him for coming and give him a couple of things you found encouraging from his talk.
If there’s something you really like about your children’s teacher, why not tell them?
Try not to let people squirm out of your encouragements. Imagine you’re passing them a gift and they’re trying to give it back or drop it. Just keep handing it back to them. Look them in the eye and say, “I’m trying to encourage you, please don’t shrug it off.” Or something like that! “Shut up and listen to me” might also work.
You could send encouragements via text or – better still – a postcard popped in the post. This is a different way of doing it and may be a good place to start if you feel nervous about doing it face to face.

You might read this and think, “I’m not that kind of person.” The truth is that I’m not either. You don’t have to pretend to be someone else in order to encourage others. You need to do it in your own way, but the sad truth is that hardly anyone is “that kind of person.” As a result, people around us are starving for words of affirmation.

Also, I would argue that we do all know how to praise and encourage. We love to tell people how good a particular film or book is, or even the reasons why we love a certain person. But why don’t we say those things to the person directly? I know it’s not British. But godliness isn’t British, folks.

As with other gifts – hospitality, evangelism, giving – some people will be better at this than others. But that doesn’t leave the rest of us off. We should all be trying to encourage others. And you never know, you might find you’re better at it than you thought.

And you might even save someone’s life:

See to it, brothers and sisters, that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God. ¹³But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called ‘Today’, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. ¹⁴We have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original conviction firmly to the very end. Hebrews 3:12-14.

Working Mum – Yikes!

Happy New Year, beloved readers. As you think about the year ahead I don’t know if you feel that change is afoot, but for me 2019 was a year of change. Back in September I started a part-time job. Aside from some admin jobs I’ve done that worked around my children at home, this is the first time I’ve been in paid employment in nine years.

I’m working in a secondary school (high school), which of course is full of people. There are people aged 11 right up to nearly-retirement age. Hundred and hundreds of people. This is quite a contrast from my daily routine prior to working there. Looking after a three-year old, doing a lot of laundry, perhaps meeting up with a friend for a cuppa… this is in many ways quite a lonely season. I found it as such, anyway. I love spending time with my children, but the lack of structure and the lack of adult company was a challenge for me.

In contrast, a school must be one of the most structured places in society. Every minute of the day is accounted for. And if the timetable is accompanied by many rules which are strictly adhered to, then this adds to the feeling of – to me, anyway – a certain security. At work, I know where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m not free to choose. I’ve been told where to be and when. This, after 9 years of wondering what the best use of my day would be, is a welcome relief.

You might think I’m mad. Some people hate structure. However, I notice that the routines and the rules do make most of the students feel safe. So I don’t think I’m too weird! So anyway, here are some observations based on my transition from Stay-at-Home-Mum-of-Four to Working-Mum-of-Four:

The hardest thing about starting a new job has been that nobody knows me. It’s such a drag. Not that I don’t know them (although that’s something I’d like to remedy), but that they don’t know me. It’s a very lonely feeling. This got me thinking – how many people live in our neighbourhoods who don’t feel that anyone knows them? It’s a horrible feeling. And to be a Christian is to be truly known by the one who made you. (Psalm 139:1) What a wonderful truth. I’ve never really appreciated it properly before, and I’m so thankful to God that he knows me. I wonder who I could get to know better in the coming months – maybe in my church or on my street.
The years at home are short. If you’re working part-time or having given up paid work completely to be at home with your children, I know it can feel like a very long time. Looking at leaves, counting aeroplanes and playing the shopping list game again can really slow down time. But having come through that season (sort of), I can assure you that it is not long at all. It means everything to our children – it’s all they’ve known so far – and they’ll benefit for the rest of their lives. But to you, it’s one line on your CV that can be explained to a colleague in one short sentence. (Don’t expect them to ask you any details, either.) And just thinking pragmatically – there are, Lord willing, many years left to be ‘at work.’ This week a boy at work asked me how long I thought I’d work at his school. I said it could be for another thirty years – and by then he will be in his forties, perhaps sending his own children to secondary school. So what’s five or ten years in the grand scheme of things?
Anything new is very tiring. You’ve got new people to process, new systems to get your head around, and you might need to adjust many other things in your life to compensate. (E.g. you might have to spend your evenings, rather than your afternoons, making Ziggy Stardust costumes – or is that just me?) So cut yourself some slack. Try not to fill the diary. And get to bed early!