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.

Ending well

I think it's fair to say this week has finished better than it started. Last weekend I was struggling with the thought of moving house, partly because it's just a pain in the bum and partly because of what it represents - my life lived in transition.

But some key things this week have made a difference to my outlook this weekend. The first is the simple fact of having started to move my stuff from one friend's house to another.
 
The second is that I've FINALLY finished and sent off my Baptist minister form (only two months after I was given it...). I've found it a really tough thing to do and the relief when I finally put it in the post box was immense.

The third thing is that I've now finished my dull, dull and boring Friday job. I wondered if I'd get all panicky again but I haven't, and I think that's because I've immediately been able to start doing the kind of creative and productive stuff I'm hoping I can invest my time in in the coming months.

The fourth things is that I've taken the decision to start a second blog focusing on baking and fair trade. I wasn't going to mention it yet because I'm not ready to make a big thing of it 'til I've posted some more content, but I've been working on it today and it seems daft not to! If you're not into baking, please don't bother following the link :o) 

And the fifth thing is that my rather marvellous sisters sent me a parcel of nice stuff which arrived today - what's not to love about Jesus soap, plant pot muffin cases, jelly babies, Dairy Milk and a clever book about politics, all topped off with a picture of Cliff Richard?  

I can't guarantee what frame of mind I'll be in this time next week but I'm making the most of a good end to a significant week.

I am the Cake of life

Today a couple of fairly different areas of my life have collided and yet I think they have something to say to each other.

This morning I was primarily working on my Baptist minister form which is the next step in figuring out whether I really am called to ordained church leadership. There's no fixed deadline which is a bit of a problem, but I'm assuming to have it completed bar the proof-reading by tomorrow evening. It might just happen...

This morning I was also thinking about a sermon series my pastor and I will be team-teaching over the next three Sunday evenings - it's not something I've done before (both preaching a series and preaching with someone else) so it's taking a bit of time to get my head round.

But then this afternoon I've mostly been baking and visiting a friend. The baking is for the fair trade shop and café and the friends is heavily pregnant (and significantly overdue) and therefore moderately frustrated by life.

And now I'm blogging, collecting my thoughts from the day and putting them out there for others to engage with.

The combination has got me thinking - what might Cake Church look like?

For me baking represents a whole variety of different things - creativity, productivity, comfort, celebration, community... I could go on.

Cake brings people together. Making a cake for someone else says 'I value you'. Making a cake with someone says 'I want to invest in you'. Eating cake with someone says 'I'm glad I get to share life with you'.

And surely they're some of the core values of ministry...

Just did it

On reflection the seeds of this experiment in spontaneity were sown last Monday when a few disparate elements came together in an unexpected fashion.

Element 1: I'm the process of exploring the possibility of becoming a Baptist minister. This is requiring me to do lots of reflecting (ha!).

Element 2. At some point during March my housemate is kicking me out - she's getting married and has decided she'd rather I didn't live with her and her new husband. So selfish. Therefore I will soon be homeless.

Element 3. Aforementioned housemate has just been away for a few days at Scargill House and when she got back she mentioned that they are trying to grow a live-in community and are looking for people to join them. I think she just told me this because it was interesting, not as a subtle hint...

On Monday evening I was thinking about what the next few months might hold when it suddenly occurred to me that living in a community like that at Scargill could be a valuable way to spend the time between moving out of my current accommodation and starting my ministerial training.
So far, so reflective.

What happened next was entirely uncharacteristic. I sat down at my laptop and wrote an email to Scargill asking about the possibility of being part of their community for a few months. Just like that. No list of pros and cons, no mulling it over.

Just did it.

So far I haven't had anything other than an acknowledgement email back, but there's a very real sense in which just sending the email was as significant an achievement than anything that may or may not come out of the enquiry. Well done me.