The Masters plan

So.

Whisper it - there might be an actual plan in the offing...

You'll know from my last post that last Monday I was up in Liverpool for an MA (a MA? Who knows.) interview. I'd stumbled across the St Mellitus MA in Christian Leadership as I'd made a last-ditch attempt to rescue my study plans after the disappointment of discovering my first-choice programme wasn't running in September, and in the course of less than a fortnight I'd sent off a brief email to find out more about the course, decided to apply, was offered the opportunity to go up for a taster day and been for an interview!

There are times when things just fall into place...

St Mellitus has quickly become one of the key Anglican training colleges in the UK and last September an affiliated college opened in Liverpool, based at the Anglican cathedral. I'd had hoped that I'd be able to do the MA in London but the course was full, hence the application to Liverpool since Leicester is, as the proverbial crow flies, pretty much equidistant between there and London (although slightly more difficult to get to by public transport - more on that later!).

But as I've reflected on my taster and interview, I've begun to see the very real advantages of a northern adventure. The college is smaller - I don't think there were more than about twenty-five people in the room (and the college does seem to basically be a single room) at any one time - and in the process of getting established which offers genuine potential to be part of shaping something new and interesting. There also seemed to be a real sense of community (to the extent that it's possible to get a feel for that kind of thing in a single morning) which is something I particularly value.

Oddly, perhaps, one of the highlights of my morning was the interview itself. Well, I say 'interview' - it was actually a nice chat over coffee. We started off by chatting about all the normal stuff - what I'm doing at the moment, my faith journey, etc - and then we got onto the subject of leadership (appropriately).

I'm not sure what prompted it but I found myself talking about the Newsnight segment about leadership that I watched back in January and have blogged about a couple of times. I talked about the absence of women from the programme and the subconscious messages about leadership this had communicated, about the lack of reference to the wider context of female monarchs (the programme was about Shakespeare who, as you know, wrote during the reign of Elizabeth I and was broadcast as part of the Jubilee celebrations for Elizabeth II), and about the complete lack of furore about this that had greeted it when it was broadcast. As I was talking I was aware that this felt like a deal-breaker, that if Jill didn't 'get' what I was talking about I wasn't sure this was the place for me.

But she did get it. We talked about her own historical leadership heroes, Joan of Arc and Lady Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII and founder of Christ's College, Cambridge. She understood my sense of outrage at the Newsnight programme (and at the lack of outrage about it). She was unnecessarily encouraging about my potential to write interesting things about women's leadership.

I came away from that conversation feeling fairly positive...

And so there we have it. I hadn't set out to do an MA in leadership, Christian or otherwise, and yet I'm pretty convinced it's the right step. I don't know how it fits into the Baptist ordination exploration; there are some clear points of connection - part of the process of training for ordination is obviously about training for leadership, and some points of very clear disconnect - I'll be studying at an Anglican college. I'm not thinking too hard about those things just at the moment. One of the distinctives about this course is that it's about reflecting on what it means to lead as a Christian regardless of the specific context and that's one of the key appeals for me.

There are practical things that still need working out. I move out of my current accommodation on 12 July and I don't currently have anywhere to live after that - I'm planning to stay living in Leicester for work, which is another of the practical issues that needs thinking through. I also need somewhere in Liverpool to stay every Sunday night during term time. So if you're of a praying disposition...

And, yes, I know that adding a well-placed apostrophe to the title of this post would add a whole extra layer of significance to what I've written. After four and a half years of drifting about, heading somewhere but not knowing where, there seems to be a little light at the end of the tunnel. I still don't really know what the future holds, but I know is that this is the next step - the one after that will unfold itself in due course. Thanks for sticking with me!

Curveballs and slip catches

Today marks a year since I went to my Ministerial Recognition Committee, my interview with the London Baptist Association to explore whether I had a call to Baptist ministry. To be honest, to mark this anniversary seems largely arbitrary since the conclusion of the committee was that I didn't have said call and life, therefore, continued as normal.

Except that the 'No' from LBA stands as one in a line of curveballs that I've faced over the last five years.

curveball

ˈkəːvbɔːl/

noun

noun: curveball; plural noun: curveballs; noun: curve ball; plural noun: curve ball  Baseball

a delivery in which the pitcher causes the ball to deviate from a straight path by imparting spin.

There's part of me that resents just how apt this particular piece of American sporting jargon seems to sum up my recent - and not so recent - life experience, but sum it up it does. There was the curveball of moving to Leicester for a job which ended very badly after nine months; the curveball of redundancy; the curveball of sensing a call to Baptist ordination.

Then this week, after several months of trying to decided between pursuing ministerial training and an 'academic' MA course, I discovered that the MA I'd pretty much set my heart on, and for which I'd spent significant time working on my personal statement, actually isn't running this September. I was gutted.

Given that I was gutted, I was slightly surprised by my response. There have been times in the last few years when a major disappointment would have floored me emotionally. But on Monday, my response was measured and pragmatic - 'well, it's back to the drawing board again'.

And it got me thinking about another sporting metaphor.

I know a lot more about cricket than I do about baseball (which really isn't difficult, given that I know nothing at all about baseball!). I first got into cricket about fifteen years ago when it was still on proper telly, and over time I've picked up enough of an understanding to follow a match and know pretty much what's going on. My breakthrough came when my dad explained the fielding positions to me - you know, silly mid off and all that nonsense. One of the things that really impresses me is slip catching - it's tricky to explain so here's a video of England v Australia in the 2005 Ashes...

Slip catching is all about focus, reaction and agility; it's carpe diem, seizing the moment. I aspire to be a slip catcher - both in the literal sense of being able to catch like that and in the sense of being able to respond to circumstance with that same lightness of touch, of being in the right place at the right time, no matter how unexpected that time and place might be. I'm aware that I'm starting to acquire some figurative slip catching skills and I think my reaction to the MA was an example of that.

But I'm aware that there are downsides. If you're in the slips as the bowler runs towards the crease (check out my grasp of the lingo!) you can't be distracted by what's going on around you, by what your team mates are doing, by what's going on in the crowd. Your focus has to be on the ball - as it leaves the bowler's hand, as it hits the bat, as you time your leap to meet it.

I'm aware that there have been times recently when my concerns about what's going on with me has meant that I'm not as responsive or available to others as I might be (as I should be?) and I've made the decision - rightly or wrongly - that I can justify that for now. I'm aware that I've made the decision - initially unconscious, but now more consciously implemented - that I have enough people in my life and I don't have the emotional energy to add more. My planning is largely short term which makes me a frustration to those who have more settled lives, and makes me look flakey, largely because I am.

There may come a time when I can move out of the slips. Until then, bring on the curveballs...

On being a Judas

As you'll be aware, as part of my Lent reflections I've been listening to John 13-18:14 on my way to work. I was a bit sceptical about how useful it would be because I wasn't that keen on the audio Bible I had, but it's actually been really helpful.

It's been a bit like an extended meditation - not the weird New Age kind but the focusing on a bit of scripture and pondering on it. Sometimes I really listen, sometimes I just allow it to 'happen' in the background as I think about other things. I'm aware that I now associate the different phases of my drive to work with different parts of the story - it'll be interesting whether those bits come back to me after Easter when I'm not listening to the story anymore.

But it's been fascinating to see how different part of the story have struck me, raised questions, prompted me to read other things or go back to the (written) Bible. One thing that's really stuck with me has been the exchange between Jesus and Judas in John 13:21-30. To all intents and purposes, in the moment of this passage, Judas is just a bit player - he doesn't speak, and in verse 30 he leaves and the whole of the rest of the discourse happens in his absence. And yet he is absolutely pivotal to the action of the remaining chapters of John.

There are two things that have really caught my attention. The first is that when Jesus announces that someone is going to betray him, 'his disciples stared at one another, at a loss to know which of them he meant.' (13:22) That suggests there had been nothing in Judas' demeanour, behaviour or speech which gave any indication that he was about to pull the rug out from under the whole endeavour. It's worth remembering, of course, that the disciples have a reputation for regularly failing to grasp the significance of what was going on around them, and often what was going on right in front of them. Clearly Jesus had picked up on something so there must have been some indication that all was not well, which makes it all the more astonishing that Judas was included in the foot-washing and the meal; Jesus is still actively including Judas, extending a hand of friendship to someone who has every intention of sticking the boot in in a big way.

We talk a lot about Judas betraying Jesus, but this account reminds us that Judas is actually betraying the other disciples too - he's been as much a part of their lives as he has been part of Jesus', and at the beginning of the meal he's still very much part of the group, to the extent that some commentaries suggest that Judas was actually sat in the place of honour next to Jesus when this whole sorry saga starts to unfold.

But the other thing that's struck me is that when Jesus hands Judas the piece of bread, Judas doesn't say anything, he simply takes the bread and leaves. He doesn't try to defend himself, or rally support from the others, or even try to deny his intentions. Does he hope Jesus has misunderstood him? Has he got himself so far down a one-way street that he thinks he no longer has any other option? Or does he just not care anymore?

One commentary really helpfully reminded me that Judas was chosen and called by Jesus in exactly the same way he chose and called his other eleven disciples. It can be easy to leap on verses like John 17:12 - 'None has been lost except the one doomed to destruction so that Scripture would be fulfilled.' - to explain away Jesus' call to Judas, but the reality is that we'll never know (this side of eternity) what Jesus saw in Judas, in the same way we'll never see what he saw in the other eleven, but saw something in him he did.

I've found these reflections on Judas pretty challenging. Here's someone called by Jesus who, over a period of time, has managed to cultivate and maintain a role and relationships within an incredibly close-knit group of people whilst at the same time planning to undermine the vision and mission of the man at its heart, whilst managing to largely keep those plans and intentions unnoticed by anyone else. The challenge for me is to reflect on my own attitude and behaviour towards those I work, 'minister' and live with; are there times when the image I project doesn't square with what's really going on inside? are there times when I give the impression that I'm on board with a vision or idea but consciously (or subconsciously) work to undermine it? do I act - privately or publicly - in ways which would cause others to question my call from Jesus?

Let's be frank - we all have the capacity to be a Judas, to such an extent that the name has long been part of the vocabulary we use to describe those who betray or let others down. I'm just not sure I've thought before about how subtle and insidious betrayal can be.

To the ends of the earth?

For the last nine months I've been exploring a call to Baptist ministry. To put it another way, having spent a good proportion of the last fifteen years either employed by churches as a youth worker or volunteering in a variety of capacities I was wondering whether actually being responsible for leading a local church was something I might be capable of doing and, more to the point, what God was calling me to.

To cut a moderately tedious story short, it turns out that although lots of lovely people have been very affirming about my ability to exercise leadership and pastoral care, the London Baptist Association have decided that at this stage accredited Baptist ministry isn't for me. Weirdly, I'm not particularly surprised by that decision and for a whole bunch of reasons I'm actually quite relieved that I won't be heading off to college in September. There are loose ends to tie up but for now it's back to the status quo.

Except that for me the status quo doesn't really exist at the moment. As I'm sure I've written about before, the last four years have been a transition but I'm still not sure what I'm transitioning into. The prospect of ordination seemed to tick that box but clearly that's not it. I'm living with a friend rent-free (this has become something of a pattern and has got me thinking about the nature of my 'welfare state', but that's a post for another day) and working five days a fortnight in a (just above) minimum wage job which I enjoy and has some scope for role development (although without extra hours or money). This is clearly not a state of affairs that can continue indefinitely.

So I'm at a point where I'm trying to reflect on the possibilities that might be open to me. They include (with varying degrees of practicality)...

1. Continuing to exploit the hospitality of gracious and generous friends, working five days a fortnight and spending my free time swanning around.
2. Moving back in with my parents without any immediate income.
3. Becoming part of a Christian community for a few months. This would enable me to exercise some of my ministry skills and contribute practically to community life, whilst having my board and pocket money provided.  
4. Getting a proper job. By this I mean full time employment which will enable me to rent my own house. Who knows how realistic a prospect that is in the current economic climate? 
5. Starting my own business. I've been doing a lot of baking recently and have realised that I really enjoy it and, it appears, I'm moderately good at it. However, this requires a kitchen which I don't have.
6. Seeing if there are any community initiatives / churches who are looking to develop projects around baking - a café, community bakery etc - who I could team up with to shape some kind of social enterprise.

There are several reasons why I've decided to share that list. One is simply that it helps me to collect my thoughts. But another is that I'm looking for some feedback on points 5 and 6.

Ten years ago I was almost half way through the Oasis Youth Work and Ministry Course and was beginning to think about what my next step might be. I told God I'd go anywhere and I ended up ten miles down the road (although it was a whole world away in many respects). I'm wondering whether I'm back in that place again. So if you know of great opportunities on the other side of the country, the continent or the world, you should feel free to share them. I'm not saying I'll definitely have the courage to go, but at least I'll know what I'm turning down.

WWJD?

That was the question I was left asking after a youth work team planning meeting this evening, when I was confronted with an age-old conundrum - how do you effectively exercise leadership and influence in the absence of power and position?

I've been a volunteer youth leader at church for around six months. No-one at church has seen my CV and few have heard very much about my previous youth work experience. I have, as far as I can tell, as much, if not slightly more, theological training as the minister. I'm not an employee of the church, and I'm not part of the church leadership team. In fact I'm not even a church member and that, as any good Baptist will tell you, puts me right at the bottom of the heap when it comes to position.

And yet, my sense is that this is the place God has called me to for this time, that there are significant things I have to offer, and that God is expecting me to offer them, whilst stripping me of the 'tools' that I've been used to having at my disposal - a title, a recognised position of leadership, access to regular opportunities to communicate with the whole church, right of veto over things I think are a bit daft. Or indeed downright ridiculous.

In the past I've talked the language of 'earning the right to speak' but it's only now that I'm beginning to see what that really looks like in practice. I suspect it boils down to investing in relationships. Lots of them. With God. With the young people. With the youth team. With the pastor. With parents, church members, the local community.

There are so many reasons why that's a pretty scary prospect and I'm not sure I can do it. I'm not sure, frankly, that I want to do it.

What would Jesus do?