Follow the Leader or Lead the Followers?

This month seems to have been all about leaders and followers…and I am not just referring to those who have been brave enough to try brocade trousers and those who are waiting for items to end up on the sale rack or the miraculous loss of ten pounds before they dare to experiment! We have had leadership contests that have had the whole world watching, such as the recently contested US Elections that saw President Obama win another term, and one that has had all of us in Christo Towers pondering the implications, such as the recently concluded selection of Justin Welby as the new Archbishop of Canterbury. However, leading doesn’t begin with the ‘winning’ of votes, but with the willingness to illustrate by example; something that those of us, be we believers for five minutes of five decades often forget.

Leadership comes with a commission: At the close of Mark’s Gospel Jesus himself says this:

“Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation.” Mark 16:15

Preaching the good news does not merely mean peacing out to be a missionary in the traditional sense. All creation does not merely reside where one can get a sun-tan or post exotic Facebook updates and Twitter feeds to family and friends. Indeed preaching can be interpreted in choosing to show some of Christ’s truth in your everyday, to lead by example, in whatever situation you presently find yourself in. There is never a perfect time for a commission: if we take the passage in Mark, Jesus is talking to his disciples for the final time before ascending to Heaven. He is leaving them with no fixed time line of his return, He is also departing at a time when they would not only be part of the marginalised minority but also most certainly face persecution. What is also interesting to note is that the Great Commission which this verse is part of; is addressed to all believers, not just the ones heading for lofty office, we are all part of His Divine Leadership campaign.

So who are these ordinary people, doing extraordinary things? Lucky for me I didn’t have to look far, to see how people, places and spaces could be used for the most powerful purposes. A couple of weeks ago I was a guest at a gala concert at St Stephen’s Church, Walbrook. The gala was in aid of The Walbrook Music Trust, an organisation committed to putting on world class choral and instrumental work in St Stephen’s for free. One can only imagine how the gift of music soothes all those who attend especially in the hubbub and fiscally focused heart of the City of London, where one is only as good as their last career appraisal. The Walbrook Music Trust is led tirelessly and without expectation of plaudits by Musical Director Edward Adams whilst financial logistics are championed by John Seagrim. I was humbled and reminded by both these men and the teams they had gathered around them, that preaching the gospel comes in many forms and that by using the church space as a centre of musical excellence and tranquillity a whole new audience to both classical music and God’s eternal truth could be created.

Digging deeper, the building itself showed me further examples of people following their divinely authored commission in the here and now. For starters, we have the space itself: designed by Sir Christopher Wren and with a dome every bit as pretty as the one at St Paul’s. And then there is the altar; designed by Henry Moore with a piece of marble from the same quarry that Michelangelo used for David and finally there is the legacy of former Rector of St Stephen’s, Dr Chad Varah, who founded Samaritans, an organisation that continues to bring comfort and save lives by offering help to the desolate.

When we choose to follow Jesus, we are in a sense setting ourselves to be like him, to lead. The exciting thing is the commission is already in us, it is just a case of bringing it forth and not caring too much for initial reception. God’s purposes are always fulfilled, but if we start with commission led intent, our legacy can last forever.

All Saints, Every Day

Today we’re reminded of All Saints…No not the  clothes shop, although I do remember when many a moon ago, they stocked rather fetching belts with the phrase ‘Jesus Rocks’ emblazoned in metallic studs…Nor the woeful girl band that I could never bring myself to like and blamed for so many a friend adopting the cargo-pants and hoodie look as their style signature…but the saints of the Christian faith, be they  beatified (if you are of a Catholic or High Anglican persuasion) or the common-garden believers (if you belong to a more Reformed/Protestant tradition) today, we remember them all.

For a day that was quite a big deal back in the day, All Saints has suffered somewhat from the day that precedes its popularity; Halloween. Give people the choice between remembering a bunch of long dead goody-two-shoes and currently alive stalwarts of the faith or dressing up in a random quest to scare or provoke comment and it is a no-brainer what they’ll opt for. And let’s not forget how so many Christos, use Halloween as an opportunity to dabble in some ‘occult-light’ activities…You know the deal, a spot of clairvoyance,  participating in harmless-fun spells, exploring traditional faiths, a la many of my mates in Blighty who use this time of year to draw on the parallels between Samhain and its Christian ‘cousin’ in the church calendar. But before I spend this blog bashing Halloween’s growth and dominance; perhaps it’s time to re-brand All Saints Day so we can all better focus.

Because I am a fairly all-embracing denominational girl: I propose one picks ‘n’ mixes it: First find a Saint from the traditional canon who you’re feeling. I decided to opt for St Charles Lwanga, the most famous of the Ugandan Martyrs, a group of Christian martyrs who were killed in the late nineteenth century for refusing to renounce their faith, twenty-two of whom went on to be canonised by the Catholic Church. Apart from being  from my home country, St Charles Lwanga’s story speaks most to me of not compromising: a page and later major-domo of Kabaka Mwanga, the king of the ancient kingdom of Buganda, he chose to forsake earthly advancement, for what he knew to be true. At the time of their martyrdom St Charles Lwanga had no foresight of knowing whether his story would last beyond a generation, never mind become a public holiday in his homeland, a feast day in his new faith and known by millions around the world. But he was constant in his convictions , something we could all learn in a society that exists perpetually on a sliding scale of excuses and flat out denials for when we know we’ve fallen short.

Second, share the story of your favourite saint and think about traits that you could copy from them: As St. Paul famously wrote in his letter to the Philippians:

“Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me – put it into practice. And the God of Peace will be with you.” Philippians 4:9

St Charles Lwanga was clearly gifted; the biography we have for him shows he advanced at the palace; ending up as a head of household. In this role he would have had plenty of responsibilities as well as a hotline to palace gossip and intrigue and its probable that he would have gotten wind that the tide was turning for those who had embraced the new religion. And yet not only did he not use his position to save himself, but also did something radical, he encouraged others: arranging for the baptism of the remaining catechumens ahead of their show-trial, and thus ensuring that should they die, it would not be in vain as they would be embraced into the bosom of God’s family. Whilst we have no oral accounts for what he may have said to this mainly young group of men, who were probably scared of the prospect of death, even though they had actively chosen Jesus, it echoes the aforementioned quote from St Paul, who wrote Philippians, shortly before his own martyrdom, as it gives us Christos today something very powerful to imitate.

You see, encouraging others  in their walk of faith is the bread and butter of fellowship and is the best bolsterer of one’s own faith. Furthermore, being steadfast to one’s beliefs draws you that bit nearer to what one does believe, in Jesus. In doing both something truly alchemic happens: more powerful than any cauldron action: we, the current Christos on planet earth, really do all become saints; growing closer in likeness to our Lord and Saviour. So let’s all faithfully follow what we know to be true and cheer on those around us to do the same.  We might not all make it into the annals of history, but we will all get a name-check in heaven.

Catching Inspiration

The shortening days can affect one’s mood, studies attest to it, the glum expressions that abound on the tube testify to it and if I am honest I feel it. Whereas on a summer morning everything can feel possible, come winter when it is still dark when most rise, and entreaties to the Lord may seem to fall at his feet and not quite land on the Almighty’s ‘to do’ list and other variables such as rain and a stinking cold are added to the mix one can feel alone and under attack.

The weeks since I last wrote have as ever been filled with the respective peaks and troughs but sometimes, when fatigued those troughs can feel all the more deeper…and who wants to end up as pig feed anyway? Although in modern times it might not be fashionable to talk about spiritual attack or to point out that guess what, sometimes,  rubbish things continue happening to decent people, for no particular reason, it is an uncomfortable truth. Furthermore, to not mention it would be dishonest and not truly reflect that this JC business requires a lot of stamina as even His victory was marked on a road of incomparable suffering. Mediaeval writers may have dwelled at length on this concept a little too much – one only has to have a look at some of the art and masonry on cathedrals from that time to see they were big on it, but spiritual fatigue, compounded by attack is a powerful tool used against the faithful.

In difficult times it always pays to go back to biblical basics. I decided after a long hiatus of not really helping to sign up as an Alpha Helper at the Alpha Course at HTB. Meeting people, at various stages of their walk has allowed me the opportunity to once more articulate and interrogate what it is that I believe and why I do in the first place. There is no room for ‘solipsism gone crazy’ styles and fashions where the cult of me is assuaged by others mid cupcake full and a  group of strangers listen politely during debates that range from Who Jesus Is to the Problem of Evil. In my own private time  I have read the Psalms  cover to cover and with one particular passage pleaded with the Lord to prove it:

 “For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favour lasts a lifetime; weeping may last for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5

Spiritual attack works via isolating the individual from all that is true and distorting a situation to feel insurmountable. I was helped out of my particular mire by a friend who out of the blue invited me to join him at last week’s Frieze Art Fair. One – nil to JC, I was NOT alone and again I was reminded of another verse:

“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” Proverbs 17:17

But the best was yet to come; amidst the amazing contemporary art, directional outfits and the delicious salted caramel and bitter chocolate tarts we enjoyed in the VIP hospitality (2 –nil to JC abundance to boot!), I was blown away by the work of William Edmondson. A self-taught sculptor, who began his craft based on a divine calling he believed he had received from the Lord, his faith in the small things led to him being the first African-American to have a solo show at the MOMA New York in 1937. However, this was not a neat happy ever after story.  For beyond that show, his work never realised its true financial value in his lifetime and he died and was buried in an unmarked grave. But here was the thing, half a century or more later and his work was inspiring another Christo artist, to dig deep and stick to the calling. To the world his story might seem one of failed possibilities, but it has all the hallmarks of a true believer: steadfastness, long-suffering and a heartfelt conviction to hold strong to what he knew to be true. Attacks will come and go, but the Lord lasts forever, and he will provide you with pit-stops and inspiration to keep you going along the way.

A New Season

I want to throw all of my clothes into a special super-sized bonfire. Well, maybe not all: The 'dress and oppress' Jewel By Lisa dresses,  the  Kelechi Odu made to measure African Principessa frock that took me all the way to Buckingham Palace, the foxy yet church  compliant Pokit tweed skirt,  and a vital cache from Printemps in Paris would definitely live to see another wardrobe moment. But as for the rest? I wouldn't lose too much sleep over.

The sartorial distillation has many reasons: first there is the small but not to be overlooked matter of London Fashion Week. A week of shows, parties, and fashion face-offs, can really reveal the holes in one’s  wardrobe, but perhaps more enduring you realise that there are  few items that you can depend on whatever the weather and always feel your best in. In sheer desperation, I chose to accessorise the aforementioned Pokit number with a fuscia pink bible to the shows on Sunday…the lady sitting next to me at one of them asked me who it was by; I replied without missing a beat ‘God’.  Evangelism after all comes in many forms! But perhaps what the shows illustrated to me most was that one’s perception of needing more often stems from a need to find that one illusive thing, be it a winning collection or even single piece that just works, totally.

Clothes play an important role in the bible: from Joseph’s coat of many colours (I always imagine something print-tastic a la Mary Katrantzou or Erdem) to the new robe given to the Prodigal Son upon his return (I always think it would be suitably dramatic to reflect the course of events, say vintage McQueen or Riccardo Tisci for Givenchy); the items are as much a distinguishing feature, as they are a marker of God’s favour, love and forgiveness.

Wanting to get rid of the old items in my wardrobe is exactly the same as my wanting to get rid of all that might not work in my walk with God. What might have seemed like a good idea in the past may seem simply embarrassing to even consider putting on now. We are called to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run the race marked out for us.” Hebrews 12:1. So as well as the awkward numbers and discovering the holy grail of high but easy to run in heels for my God authored race, I am adding procrastination, worrying and dwelling in the past as an occasional lifestyle option into the mix of cast-offs. It is a new season after all!

a week of invitations and some of the goodies within!

Beyond the Holiday Glow

Being black I have never had to mourn a fading tan as my skin is a glossy brown all year round. However, a week after I left an entirely unremarkable field in Lincolnshire, where truly remarkable things were happening is long enough to reflect on  Focus 2012 and wonder whether I kept the JC glow that everyone seemed to depart with.

For those who wondered exactly how I would fare on a practical level, the Lord more than provided: my tent went up and stayed up courtesy of David my guardian angel by way of Brooklyn, ably assisted by his crew of former gang member youth  who he ministers to and who were utterly charming to me, David’s niece Jaleesa and finally the Priest family, (yes, that really is their surname), who did a couple of patch jobs for me over the course of the week, when the back of the tent threatened to cave in. Another big answer to prayer is it didn’t rain (never again doubt the prophetic words of Rev. Nicky Gumbel, who prayed against the jet- stream that had rendered summer a wash-out bar for Focus week and won… very Elijah-tastic if I may say so myself). And in spite of having never done or indeed been drawn to the camping holiday thing ( I will always love my creature comforts), never mind one with Christo trimmings, I enjoyed myself immensely and made a bunch of friends too (arise the Champagne Chickas – that would be Janine, Sophie, Chola, Persia, Nwakego, Jaleesa and Jo – yes, all of you!) who sentimental outpouring a-go-go, can only be described as God-sends and siblings in Christ.

As for the ‘heaven on earth’ expectations, the teaching gave us tools to consider our faith differently. At this point I have to confess to full-on fandom of Father Raneiro Cantalemessa, personal preacher to the Pope, super-sharp theologian and author of a Christo book which given my other predilections, probably has the best title ever, The Sober Intoxication of the Spirit. Over the course of a couple of days his teaching on Pentecost and  St Athanasius as well as his innate charm, sense of humour and humility (told you I was a fan), not only challenged those gathered but also precipitated an outpouring that left the Big Top, where services were held, feeling like a certain first century upper room. The spirit of unity in the Christian faith was further reflected in not only his presence as a Roman Catholic but also that of the Anglican Bishops of London and Durham attending as well as leading Pentecostals Jentezen Franklin of Free Chapel and Brian and Bobbie Houston of Hillsong Church. Some might beg to differ, but when it comes down to it there are more similarities  between us all and in these fallen times a more collaborative rather than combative approach needs to be championed. Perhaps, the key tool we were given for keeping our faith alive and fresh in the hum drum of life was  to pray from a place of victory (Jentezen’s line, I don’t think so, has become a mantra of sorts), imitate Christ wherever possible (Jonny Gumbel’s talk was a stand-out) and look to the transformative nature of the Holy Spirit (yup, Father Raniero again).

It would be wrong for me not to mention worship: of course it wasn’t a competition but song of the week has to be Ben Cantelon’s My Guardian. In fact one week on and the song is still very much with me. I keep humming it unselfconsciously in the most random of places and today I excelled myself: hand aloft in supplication on the District Line. Suffice to say I got a seat. Also memorable was St Peter’s Church Brighton, who led by Martin Smith brought a full on festival feel to proceedings, without the drugs and drama of course, with their congregation stage rush and quartet of babes leading a dance routine. The key track, God’s Great Dance floor is a floor-filler if there ever was one. At the end of their set, my heart was still racing and I had to stop myself from shouting out ‘One more TUNE!’. And now back home I have made sure all of the songs are now in the iPod  on shuffle: perfect accompaniments for journeys to work, exercise regimens and good old get ready for the day sing-alongs.

Aiming for the same state of heightened euphoria,  profound spiritual understanding and growth in fellowship that Focus allowed in one’s everyday may seem unrealistic. In fact one could argue we have heaven to look forward to experiencing these things and more ad infinitum. But there is something special about taking time out to remind oneself about why one believes what they do and try and reflect it on one’s return in the slightest modifications of behaviour . Gathering with believers one sees the multifarious ways in which God blesses his entirely disparate but much loved family. Some were healed, others had their faith restored, all were transformed. Back in London I ran into an acquaintance and they asked if I had met someone such was my sparkle. Without hesitation I said I had and He’d known me forever.

Bible? Check. Tent? Check. Taittinger? Absolutely!

Today is a big day, not for any of the more obvious reasons (Olympic fever anyone?), but because I am going on my very first church camping holiday. Typing that sentence alone feels pretty weird, after all, spending a week in a tent has never been top of the charts for me in terms of a relaxing pursuit, and juxtaposing it after a frankly amazing holiday in Pariis seems all the more strange if I allow my normal way of thinking to take route. But what is the point of spiritual discipline if you do not occasionally stretch the imagination and go out into your comfort zone? So I am off, to HTB Focus which is being held in Lincolnshire to hopefully have some life affirming and life changing experiences. In my head I am imagining a sort of Glastonbury without the illicit activities but with music and the general poso vibe that seems to come when thousands of people enthusiastically gather for an event. As a novice to all this I have made sure my rucksack is stuffed with the following Christo Chick girl essentials:

1. Bible - well it is a church holiday! I am opting for a rather natty travel sized NIV. The translation is easy to follow, has some, though of course not all of the lyricism of the King James edition and as it is a slimfit copy can fit into a side pocket rather easily.
2. The tent. Possibly the single most daunting prospect of the holiday. I have no idea how to put it up, but my sister, a camping veteran who has lent it to me has assured me it is easy to do and is spacious to boot. Let's hope this house gets built on the rock, rather than the sand eh? Prayers from readers gratefully received.
3. Clothes. Quite tricky, especially with variable weather and constrained conditions. It's a church do, so perhaps not the best time to rock the cut to I don't know where denims, but style will not be compromised. The Mexican silver cross is a week essential,and a ton of layered t's. This will not be my sartorial high water mark, but that's not the point is it? And I am sure there is a verse in Luke 9:3 where we are encouraged to take nothing at all for journeys. Oops, I cheated a bit. 
4. Champagne. What else better expresses the overflow and the extravagant love the Father has for us than some booze from Reims? And before anyone tuts, the first sign in John's gospel was the wedding at Cana. I am opting for Taittinger this time round as it works particularly well with food. I can just see it now, a simple campfire meal of sardines and tomatoes, washed down with serious bubbles...

In the spirit of taking this time of contemplation, prayer and worship seriously, I shall be pretty much offline until my return..see you all the other side!

Chicks in Mitres, Thicko Theists and the Angel Next Door

Phoebe, a deacon of the church of Cenchreae

Another week and a couple of headlines to get us the Christo contingent pondering what’s really going on. No, not why the sales seem to be awash with items  that are a size too small or whether there is any spiritual merit in praying for a couple of Olympics tickets (100 metres final please Lord!). The question that seems to be in urgent need of answering is whether what we purport to believe is under threat? The recent ruck in the General Synod about women bishops and the announcement that Higgs Boson, the so-called God particle  has been identified could be described as a double sucker punch. Especially if one reads some of the more virulent pieces out there on the web (yes, I clearly have a lot of spare time) which are heralding this as the death of Christianity: out of touch with the rest of the world and now found out to be one big elaborate hoax.

To begin with the case of women bishops in the Anglican community:  A case that has run so long, and had so many soapy twists and turns it seems surreal; tune in this weekend for the next instalment. First there were the threats and counter threats, then the lobbying and sympathy pieces written by both sides, right through  to the cheeky invitation from Rome for all truly fed up to come on down and join the Catholic Church, and now more concessions made to try and keep both sides happy, as in women soon, but not quite yet, for now. But from the lay side of things it all seems to be a ridiculous storm in a teacup, but a very damaging one nevertheless. If you ask the average Anglican; and by this I mean someone who actually rocks up on a weekly and not someone who parachutes themselves in for weddings, christenings and funerals and thus might be expecting some time-warp action, in the form of creaky pews and  a  male vicar in full-on raiment, if they are piqued when a female vicar or curate leads rather than a male counterpart, they could care less. God does not dish out the gifts of biblical exposition, teaching,  pastoral and healing gifts on a gender basis, so why lose sleep and members over this very true fact being reflected in the configuration of leadership? And for those arguing against female leadership based on historical precedent, please have a look at Romans 16:1, where St Paul begins with these words “I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church of Cenchreae” . Female leadership was alive and well in the second century. So there was a hiatus of eighteen centuries or more,  and the church was not structured as it is now, but really in this the season for us to get caught up on internal admin and bickering and lose sight of the bigger picture of what is going on in the world at large? We live in an era of trenchant secularism,  suspicion and derision of those who have a faith but curiously in a society that hops from one fad to the next desperately seeking spiritual fulfilment. The church is missing a trick if it continues in the way of some backward Fortune 500 and FTSE 100 firms that still have no females at board level. If we are the true body of Christ, then everyone should  be represented at the top table not just those who fit the existing ‘look and feel’.

Speaking of look and feel, or rather matter to be more precise, what of the God Particle, Higgs Boson which has recently been discovered? For those, who like me were absolutely rubbish at science at school, from my reading Higgs is described as being responsible for matter, the building blocks of everything in the universe and beyond. It all sounds wondrous  and I am particularly pleased that the retired Professor Higgs is alive to see the discovery that bears his name, and is quoted as making sure his family put the champagne in the fridge. But to call it the death knell for belief is a step too far. For too long ith as been assumed that to be a believer of whatever flavour was to somehow suspend both logic and curiosity. Or ideally to lack either, to be the thicko theist, who believes just because they do or have been told to, or both. I have always been a believer first and foremost of the transformative power of God’s love. I also think it is good and right that people should continue to seek answers to all sorts of questions which back in the day would have labelled you a heretic. For me there is no either or in the face of intellectual enquiry.  And curiosity neither killed the cat nor does having it mark you out as a danger to the flock, if you do go to church. Why people believe what they believe is more tied into how they feel, which is as valid and true as any scientific discovery.

Returning to the transformation of God’s love I had an awe inspiring encounter with a disabled pensioner who has  kindly allowed for me to share her story here: Christine is my friend’s next door neighbour. She lives on the third floor of a block of flats in Brixton and is ‘salt and light’ if anyone needed to see it live. A horrific car accident as a child saw her dragged along the street under a car and pronounced on arrival at hospital as within 15 minutes of death and with a definite shortened life expectancy and one that would be at best in a vegetative state. Her father, a devout Christian prayed and told the doctors that he was convinced God said she would live and have a full life. Now this is not one of those ‘miracles live!’ type testimonies so please, bear with me. Christine did survive but she  not only did not speak for a year,  but also lost sight in one eye and was left with severely impaired walking skills. The sunny pensioner who I had the privilege to hang out with yesterday was full of grace and is a fixture in her block. It was her who over the years has welcomed new migrant families in for a cup of tea, and as a testimony to her loving nature she is godmother to many  including a little girl from Nigeria, who she had me in stitches by saying she was practising saying the baby’s name properly as it was so long. She told me she always proclaimed Jesus’ love for all to everybody, even those who called her names because of her disability, to the point that  the security guard at the local supermarket felt encouraged to do the same with the legendary line; ‘We’re all one in God. End of!” In her spare time Christine knits blankets for the elderly (and there I was thinking of her as elderly!), works tirelessly with cheer for the Salvation Army in Balham and has a big and warm hug for everyone. She is also very much a ‘girl’s girl’, we discussed summer diet plans, a mutual love of carrot cake and the importance of perfume. Within minutes of us hanging out I was ‘Mazz’ and  as I typed up a couple of letters for her ( our chance encounter began because she had knocked looking for assistance with her computer), I was struck by one thought: Higgs Boson might be responsible for matter, but it is only God the Creator who could have crafted such a selfless, brave,  loving and good for a laugh heart.