Time Flies when you're having fun

On Thursday Jess asked what I had done with my day. The answer? At least in part, I had planned Christmas. On the hottest day of the year so far, I began planning Christmas - such is the life of a vicar! Whilst you may not have started your Christmas planning, it is only June - it can sometimes feel like life is a bit of a fast roller-coaster. I remember, as a child being repeatedly told that my school days would be “the best of my life”. In fact, that’s not proven to be true, my school days were pretty miserable on the whole - but I think the point was that as a child, the days and weeks seem to last longer. As we get older, they fly by a bit quicker. In September my youngest child will start school – how this is possible when I’m quite sure he was born 3 weeks ago, I don’t know - but apparently he’s nearly five years old. 

Of course, it’s not true - twenty four hours is twenty four hours, a week is a week, regardless of if we are 4, 40 or 80 - but our perceptions of time, do change as we move on.

And perhaps that's where faith has something to say to us. In a world where the weeks blur and the years stack up faster than we'd like, there is something steadying about a God who exists outside of time altogether - who is not rushed, not behind, not anxiously trying to catch up. The same God who was present in the slow, long summers of your childhood is present now, in the middle of this whirlwind week.

The Psalmist writes in Psalm 90:4 that "a thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by" - and rather than that feeling distant or abstract, I find it quietly reassuring. If God holds time so loosely, then perhaps we can too. Not every moment needs to be seized and optimised. Not every season needs to pass faster so we can get to the next one.

Whether this week has felt endless or has vanished before you got a proper grip on it - you are held by the one who made time, and who is never in a hurry with you.

Rest

I wonder what your holiday routines look like. Jess and I have a tradition where she will pack what I deem to be far too much stuff to take away - we’ll have an argument about it and I'll say there is no way we can possibly fit it in the car, she will get upset - I’ll pack it all in the car without any issues, and then we’ll go away. It has been such a long tradition in our relationship, I’m not sure it would feel like a holiday if it didn’t start in this way!

For many of us, the start of July means we are looking towards holidays. Whether you're heading somewhere sunny, or simply taking a few days away from the usual routine, there's something in the rhythm of rest that feels important - even necessary - even if the arguments are not a required part.

We live in a world that prizes busyness. To stop can feel almost guilty, as though we should always be producing, achieving, doing. And yet, the word holiday has its roots in something older and deeper: they are to be holy days. Days set apart. Days that are different.

From the very beginning, rest was written into creation. God himself rested on the seventh day - not because he was tired, but because rest is good. It is, in fact, part of the design. And in Exodus, the commandment to rest isn't a suggestion - it sits alongside some pretty serious company.

So if you find yourself by the sea this month, or in the garden with a cup of tea and nowhere to be - know that you are not being lazy. You are being faithful to something ancient and holy. Rest is not the opposite of devotion. It is devotion.

May your July hold some stillness. May it hold some joy. And may you return from your rest, like the disciples returning to Jesus, ready to share all that you have seen and done - renewed, and a little more whole. "Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while."— Mark 6:31

What grows in weary lands

I read an excellent book this week on the work of the desert fathers and mothers. You might know them intimately, or may never have heard of them before. They are those who lived in the early days of the Christian faith, who often retreated to the 'desert' in order to draw near to Jesus. In a lot of ways, this might seem rather extreme - if I were to book a retreat, I'd almost certainly book somewhere hot - but probably not a desert. I'd like there to be life wherever I am, I'd want sustenance, I'd want chocolate.


And yet, as I read, I was struck by how often God seems to do his most profound work in the barren places. Moses encountered God in the wilderness before leading his people to freedom. Jesus faced the desert before stepping into his public ministry. The people of Israel wandered through emptiness before arriving at the promised land. In each case, the desert wasn't a detour - it was the preparation. I wonder if many of us feel something like that right now. When we look at the news, the tensions, the fear and anger spilling onto the streets, it's easy to despair. It's easy, to wonder why God seems so distant and quiet, to ask where He is in all of it.


Paul reminds us in Romans that all of creation groans, aching for redemption, like something waiting to be born. I find that strangely comforting. It means that which may seem dormant, or quiet is not the same as being dead. It means we can be assured that even in the seasons that feel dry, empty, or frightening, God is quietly at work - forming something beautiful, solid, and lasting. Whatever your week has held, however weary the world may feel, the same Jesus who walked out of the desert in the power of the Spirit walks with you now. The desert, at last, will bloom.

Best laid plans

One of my favourite songs in my late teens was Robbie Williams's Feel. For those of you thinking I couldn't possibly have been a teenager, that song was only released a couple of years ago - I'm sorry to tell you that it came out in 2002. Twenty-four years ago. I'll just let that sink in.

I loved it for the line: "I sit and talk to God and he just laughs at my plans." For some reason it always stuck with me, particularly on days when I've felt a little lost. 

Theologically, Robbie Williams is perhaps slightly off course. The closest we get in Scripture is Proverbs 16:9 "In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps." The picture Proverbs gives us isn't of a God who laughs at our plans, nor one who tries to stop us making them. It's of a God who is ultimately in charge - who takes our steps and directs them with purpose and care. 

On Sunday, we're planning Eden in the Garden - this is a summer picnic and cream tea on the village field - and as I type these words, it is absolutely pouring with rain outside my window. Is this going to be one of those plans I end up feeling slightly laughed at for making? I really hope not. I hope that come Sunday, all will be well and we'll be able to enjoy some wonderful community time together after all the madness of the road closure.

But whatever the weather brings, I find it genuinely reassuring that God directs our steps. That He will, as Paul writes in Romans 8:28, work all things together for good for those who love Him. We can trust Him - even with our slightly optimistic British summertime plans.