For the sake of my own privacy, these blog posts are not in chronological order and for the sake of the privacy of others, names are changed where necessary :)
This morning the city inched closer to spring, and I wore a jumper and scarf but no coat, on my way to the other sound of town. I walk into the living room and hear Wendy encouraging Adam, Oh, but you would make SUCH a great priest! begging him to be part of the Passion Play cast. I make for the bean bag and Tim gets me the last cup of coffee before going to the kitchen to refill the cafetiere.
Others trickle in and we begin by introducing ourselves in case anyone doesn’t know who everyone is. I’m John, and I’ve been friends with Jesus since I was seven and a half. It feels a bit like group therapy. An AA meeting for people addicted to what? Jesus. Each other. Coffee. Cake. For me, it’s all of the above… but not always in that order. Some days I am more excited about the biscuits than I am about the Holy Spirit’s presence with us, but I think he understands.
Sun floods through wide windows on the side of the house and Tim leads us through Genesis chats about Joseph and his dreams, wearing an oversized jumper that reminds me of a best friend. We talk about faith, and someone says maybe Joseph thought Well, all my other dreams came true so this one will too. Unlike me, who sees answers to prayers on a daily basis and all they reveal is that I never thought they could be answered in the first place. But, I keep asking.
An anxious flyer, tells us an anecdote of a time the stranger beside him on a turbulent flight said, We’re going to be fine; I’ve got unfulfilled prophecies on my life. Andrew tells a story of the opposite, a dying friend who said a week before he passed, All of the prophesies have come true now. There are none left and I’m ready to go.
Bittersweet laughs fill the room while I wonder is that faith? Or delusion? I’m not sure. I’m still working out what comes from the Spirit and what is a vivid, creative, imagination. I think there’s often overlap. The other day I walked the racecourse for my weekly debrief with Jesus. I told him about a friendship that I was worried could not survive the coming weeks let alone longer. As friendships get deeper so does my urge to self-sabotage or retreat to avoid further heartbreak. While I’m telling God this, he slips a serendipitous image into my head of said friend at a wedding wearing mauve. It is an odd detail and I still don’t know what that means. I don’t know whose wedding it is or how long it will be before it happens, but I sensed it was a whisper that we could get through if we chose to. I’ve come back to that image many times since, it is a hope I’m holding on to, a reminder to take the risk of love rather than caving to pessimism. We will be okay. And maybe in a few years, I’ll be able to tell them how I always knew we would because God told me. Or not. Maybe it will never happen. Some days I am filled with holy confidence, other days doubt is a more comfortable blanket to make my bed with but I don’t think God is limited or held back by my resistance to believe. So, I keep asking.
Back in the Lovell’s lounge, we are discussing how suffering prepares us for doing life with others. Wendy realises in real time how her cancer gave her an empathy for her patients that she didn’t have before. It was for them as much as me, she says, the working for good. We have no idea what the ripples do.
Turtle-necked and quarter-zipped, her husband adds, ‘Thank you’ becomes a little bit weak as word when you’re surrounded by all this goodness. I am not sure if he means the oaky floors, white walls, and jigsaws stacked in a basket under the big lamp or the kindness of God rippling through us into each other’s lives.
If Pharoah’s rise to power was allowed purely so God could cut him down, was it worth it? Someone says Things like that happen so God can show us who he’s always been. Does that mean God wants these things to happen? To me, that feels unfair on Joseph. And us. I wonder if it’s more that God can make good from wherever the devil put us. Because I don’t think Love places you in unsafe situations; I think it finds you there and rescues you from them. That’s the miracle. So, I keep asking.
Alexa plays ambient music while we meditate on what God is saying to us. Breathing in and out, my mind wakes on a sandy shore. I run through waves, then God gives me his jumper and a shoulder ride home.
Later, squished on benches around the kitchen table we eat Polish soup ladled from a huge pan, provided by Adam, and I am placed in charge of sour cream. As trays of butter and homemade bread are passed, I eavesdrop on conversations and find myself grateful for the ease that comes with sticking with a church family who love you. Here, the weeks of pushing past resistance feel worth it.
On the way home, I buy mini eggs and daffodils to post through my friend’s door and then rush to St Helen’s to witness Meg’s baptism. During the first song, my sister’s housemates walk in unexpectedly and I run to hug them, another layer of joy to an already precious occasion. I sneak out of the service early and arrive to Uni Slam practice late. There are just four of us tonight and initially, the intimacy scares me. I feel like I have nothing to offer them but am met with gluten-free muffins and gentleness anyway. We end up, unsurprisingly, in The Paul Pry where I listen to Cal and James discuss literary theories that I do not understand. The cash machine wasn’t working so Cherine buys me a cider that I never pay her back for. Sipping pink Rekorderlig, while we discuss our bowel habits, it hits me that these humans are my friends now, not just people that I know. I let my eyes tear up in the toilets before heading back to the table that my answered prayers sit round. And I keep asking for more.
Being human is constantly paradoxical… you draw that out very well. Thank you for making the rest of us feel ‘normal’ through the insecurities, inconsistencies and crazy stuff that goes through our minds which make us who we are - and why we must ‘continue asking’, because God is none of the above and can be trusted.
I liked this (among other things): “I wonder if it’s more that God can make good from wherever the devil put us. Because I don’t think Love places you in unsafe situations; I think it finds you there and rescues you from them. That’s the miracle. So, I keep asking.”
I really, really enjoyed this piece Eleni. I love the way you write! So many good lines in this, it's hard to pick a favourite. You hold the tension between those big, weighty questions and the simplicity of other parts of life and community so well, and I resonated deeply with some of those prayers. Thanks for sharing. 💛