More ‘Fullness’ pics May 27, 2009

I was rooting around this afternoon looking at some of the photos I took at the Fullness retreat, these give more an idea of the location rather than what we actually did, I guess, but I thought I’d post them as I really like them.

This was outside at the back of the Custard Factory. The weather was lovely and the coloured graffiti really stood out. I wished I’d thought about popping out and snapping beforehand, as we were rushing to packdown, so I only had time to snaffle a few illicit shots… lots of bright spray paints, peeling paint and rust – my favourite sort of a place to take photos.

Again, there was much in this corner which could have kept me snapping for hours. I loved the starkness of the tower, which is out of shot to the top left, I loved the broken brickwork, the sharp angles contrasting with the curling graffiti, the plant growing out of the drainpipe and the small snatch of blue sky. I was inspired by the scrap of blue knitted fabric stuck in the barbed wire, too. I may have a bit of a photoshop twiddle with this, because think it’d look better in black and white perhaps, with some bleaker contrasts… we’ll see.

On to inside artwork now, a beautiful contribution from the beautiful Kate. I loved the ‘flowingness’ of this. A dangerous prayer to pray methinks, but she really captured the heart of the event with this.

I loved the picture of the girl with her hands in the fire. I’ve thought about it a lot since then. Was she warming her hands? Was it a cleansing thing, like the heat of the fire symbolising holiness? And then the fire seems to be radiating, shining from her face and hair. I like the thought that being that close to God radiates like that.

Metaphors and Methodicality May 26, 2009

I think I made that word up?!

I’ve been musing about what would be a good analogy to pick for a ‘what is God doing’ sort of a post.

2009 has felt like the year of the metaphor so far, these days I regularly find myself sitting in one hot beverage emporium or another wrestling with fitting all that he seems to be saying and doing into the bigger picture of life, and then words fail, and so we resort to pictures of houses and jigsaws and radishes (ok… I made that one up, but I needed a third example and I’ve always wanted to create a metaphor involving radishes…)

I guess I’m all too aware that the next six months are going to bring change change change, and I’m excited, really I am. Often these days I find myself lying in bed and in those moments before I drift off to sleep just feeling toe-curlingly expectant about everything.

And I’m such a ‘now’ person. I want to wake up and it all be happening today. And I want it all to fit into the nice 17 point schedule I’ve arranged, and I want it all to be perfect, and I’m mentally running around the place trying to work out if there’s anything I’ve missed, and if there’s anything else I can do to ease the proceedings along. And then I come to God at the end of the day, with my list of questions and a report of the day, and instead of responding to my debrief like an employer, he just seems to want to stop for a while and listen with me, and he’s pointing out the sound of the rain bouncing off the rooftops all around my (now sparse) attic room.

And so we sit, and suddenly the rest doesn’t seem so important after all.

Yesterday, during the great spring clean/sort out/room transformation, I learned that people approach such tasks very differently. I am definitely in the ‘clear everything out of the space, pile it up in the bathroom and bring it back in piece by piece. Try it in four different places before moving it back to the first’ camp. My lovely friend is definitely in the ‘it will save all of our backs to just pile it up by the fireplace and work with it all around’ camp. You could probably psychoanalyse that, or deduce something remarkable about our learning styles or something, but it made me think about me, and God, and my reactions to all the ‘renovations’ he seems to be doing in my life at present.

I loved the moment when my room was empty of pretty much everything, and it was fine (as long as noone wanted to use the bathroom… or get down the stairs without risking life and limb, for that matter). I enjoyed the order of building up the space bit by bit, and it made me think that I often find myself wishing healing was like that – wishing that God got rid of everything that was wonky and dysfunctional in one fell swoop, so everything could be reassembled neatly and in an ordered fashion, piece by piece. I think lovely friend was slightly terrified by my ordered methodicalness (which may have crossed the line into dictatorship only a few times), and I was smiling thinking about how much I strive for that same order in much of my life.

And then I was smiling some more thinking about how God doesn’t seem to keep things in the same neat lines, he doesn’t seem to be methodical in the way that I would rate. It’s like he listens to my plans and values my ideas and then responds with something that makes a whole lot more sense anyway, (and I am only ever a little disgruntled… really).

It seems that his way of doing things is much closer to my lovely friend’s. And I’m there feeling a bit flummoxed because boxes are half unpacked and the floor is only a third hoovered and where is the wardrobe going to go, and surely we have to get this done before we’re allowed to drink tea. And he is like ‘let’s take a break and go get some cake’, and it’s in stopping that I can take a deep breath, and see how much change has already taken place, and he energises me to keep going. He surprises me with his insight and wisdom, he knows when I am tired and just carrying on because I think I should, he isn’t restricted by my sense of pressure and deadline. It’s refreshing.

These past couple of weeks I’ve kept getting a passage from Exodus 35 resounding in my mind. The tabernacle is being built, and the Israelites all go off back to their tents in order to create something to bring to be ‘built into it’. I love the imagery in the passage about different coloured yarns, and linen, and brooches of silver etc. It’s a strong picture for me. I really do feel like I’m sitting in my little tent, crafting something to bring, but it’s like when you start sculpting with clay, and you don’t really know what it’s going to be yet, and more than that I can’t really even picture what the tabernacle is going to look like, so I’m not really sure if it’ll fit with the décor… but I’m sure God’ll be able to work all that bit out. This really does feel like a season of preparation – what is ahead is beautiful and good, but for now it’s just kind of nice to be able to sit in my dim but amicable tepee and muse about it all.

On wallpaper and procrastination May 26, 2009

Ok, so much as I love writing inane posts about gerberas and fighting duvets, after a while I start to feel creatively stunted and like I’m not writing about anything of consequence to my life. Like I’m skimming over the surface and ‘disney-fying’ something that is much more nuanced and complex.

And then I get to a place where there is so much to say and I don’t know where to begin, and I feel like jumping on a train and sitting on a hill with a notebook and scribbling and scribbling.

And then I get frustrated because I’m blogging about not blogging, and then it’s like ‘I bet you think this song is about you’, which is the most frustrating song lyric in the world, because by saying that she makes it about him… grr. So enough with the procrastination.

I want to write about what God is doing and saying, because there’s lots, (even if it does feel a bit like being dragged through a hedge backwards sometimes… or at least spinning round on a very fast fairground ride – that’s probably a less disturbing image).

I want to write about all the things I am excited about, because there’s lots, (even though some of those things feel fragile and frail and like they could shatter if I try and hold onto them too hard, like a tree branch I’m walking on and I’m not sure if it’ll bear my weight).

Last week I had a picture of a room in heaven, and all the words I’d ever spoken or written or typed were wallpapering it. It was a lovely place and Jesus said he loved to spend time there. It inspired me to think that is true for all of us, and I went off into an ideal-home-show-esque reverie about what all of those rooms would look like.

So yeah, in a nutshell… I need to post a bit more honestly.

More bank holiday hilarity May 26, 2009

Who knew changing a duvet cover could be so challenging!

The best way to spend a bank holiday… May 25, 2009

Today me and my wonderful friend got up early and gutted my room. We threw so much stuff away. It was a good feeling. This is the second tip run we did. I love the reckless abandon in this photo!

London Days May 23, 2009

Sometimes I take the city for granted and forget that I live in a buzzing Metropolis of tourist excitements. A few days ago I decided to make the most of the sunshine and some free time and head into town. I didn’t really have a plan of where I would end up, but I knew I wanted to start at Borough Market, somewhere I’ve been meaning to go for ages.

I loved the bright Gerberas, and the many different types of fruit. I tried many samples of yummy food – buffalo mozarella, turkish delight, pesto on homemade bread, jams and chutneys, it really was yummy. I loved the buzz of so many people in a tiny space and the atmosphere of community and friendliness. I bought some amazing lemon curd and a few presents for people, as well as some ‘curiosity cola’, which was yummy too.

After I had marvelled long enough at the array of edible delicacies, I wandered over London Bridge and into the city, musing that it was very, very quiet (perhaps everyone was in Borough Market). I wandered past St Pauls, then back over the Millenium Bridge towards the Tate Gallery.

I saw some lovely boats:

I made it across the wobbly bridge, then considered going into the Tate itself, but was put off by marauding tourists. So I meandered along the southbank for a bit, looking at the little outlet shops in the OXO tower complex and dodging pigeons.

I wondered if this treasure hunter found anything exciting:

After that it started to pelt down so I made my way back to Waterloo and got a train home. It was a lovely day though, And it made me think I should explore London a bit more.

‘Fullness’ – Emptying ourselves to be filled May 12, 2009

On Saturday 2nd May, fresh from our Durham trip, we found ourselves in the creative quarter of Birmingham, setting up for the UK Territory’s first ‘Fullness Retreat’.

These retreats were first pioneered in the USA Eastern Territory, they basically involve a room, plenty of coffee, and a bunch of hungry people waiting to meet with God.

We set the room up with some prayer focuses, some art space and lots of comfy corners for people to do business with the good Lord.

At midday, people started arriving from far flung corners of the UK (like Bristol and Banbury). There were about sixty of us in total, as well as 50 others who couldn’t be there in person, but were kept in the loop with live text updates, and who prayed alongside and fed back prophetic words and pictures they received.

So what did we do? We fasted; we worshipped by singing, by praying loud, and by mumbling quiet praise. We listened to fab, inspired teaching about fasting and prayer, and then went off on our own for a bit to meet with God. We listened to him and shared what he spoke to us about the Salvation Army in the UK, and we chatted in groups about the exciting things God is doing around the country. We prayed for the new Directors of ALOVE (The SA’s Youthwork expression), and we doused each other in anointing oil (which was probably perfume). We painted on the walls, and danced about, and made things with clay. It was great.

And what did God do? Well, he showed up! It was so weird, in that the location was, to put it politely, intriguing. It had been a nightclub venue the night before, so it was all a little sticky, and on the Saturday night it morphed into a nightclub venue one more. We were praying alongside a sound check playing hardcore trance for a bit, and the whole place felt quite soulless and sad, but after a bit of praise and worship, our little area felt warm and transformed. The walls were made of cold white breezeblock, but soon heartfelt prayers and prophetic pictures danced across them, bringing a real life and vibrancy to the place.

The stories coming out of the weekend are exciting. People heard God speak about new directions for their lives. Others encountered the healing power of his Spirit. Some made new commitments and for many the passion for prayer was fuelled and revived. It felt like a line in the sand, one of those weekends you look back on and say ‘that was significant.’

The stuff God said was amazing too. I was awed that you could ask 60 people to listen to God and they would come out with pretty much consistent stuff. There were some common themes – the call to holiness, our mandate to partner God in

setting the captives free, the heart cry to see the Salvation Army become all that God intends, the need to make costly sacrifice, to lay down what is passable and strive for the best.

The bit that was most powerful for me happened on Sunday morning, when we split into two groups, and the ‘parent generations’ spoke words of blessing and affirmation over our generations. It was a powerful and releasing moment.

I loved the conversations over coffee, the undercurrent of excitement that came from giving 24 hours over to God like that, the sense of solidarity in knowing that we were ‘going without’ as a corporate body, in order to find a new place of intimacy with him. I loved the sense of corporate responsibility, the sense that sixty people gathering like that really could make a massive difference.

And the conversations since the weekend have been inspiring. It’s been fab to open my emails of a morning and read more stuff that God has been saying to people, new ideas for going deeper in prayer, and feedback from those who were challenged and inspired. It seems that this was not just another event, but something that was and will continue to be catalytic for prayer in the Salvation Army.

So it’s a watch this space thing I think!!

Setting the Captives Free May 12, 2009

(in an attempt to work through my blogging backlog)

Two weeks ago a bunch of us trundled up to Durham for the above course. It was run by the SA’s in service training people. It was the first one of its kind, and was set in the beautiful (if remote) setting of a Durham seminary college:

Location wise it was incredible, the place had a real austere and grand feel about it, without being cold and overbearing. The long sprawling corridors were inspiring, and the refectory looked like something out of Harry Potter:

It was great to be in a beautiful place with 25 or so others who really wanted to learn and to understand more about how God can bring freedom and healing to people. It was great to hear different teachers – a fresh perspective on this stuff is always helpful, and our speakers were informed, helpful and most of all ‘normal’ – they made the topic sound like something accessible we could all be doing, rather than some weird ministry that only a few are called to.

At the beginning of the week, I thought a three day long course would be a bit of a slog, but the length of time seemed to be just right, and by the end of the course there seemed to be a real tightness about the group. It was the kind of community that is formed when a bunch of people really journey through some stuff together. I felt like I’d known them all for ages, there was a real deep level of trust, and the sense that it wasn’t a random accidental group of us that just happened to end up there, but a selection God had brought together for a purpose. I am excited to see what comes out of that and how things develop as a result of the conversations and connections we made that week.

Most of all, I was again encouraged and reminded that God truly is all about saving, healing and redeeming people’s lives from the darkness. I pray that he will use me, and all of us to partner him in that.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget our tour of Durham in the most persistent driving rain. I’d have liked to see more of the city in the sunshine, it looked like a lovely place.