Life in the Household

 Preached as sermon at Croydon Minster 6th June 2021. Readings: Genesis 3.8-15; Mark 3.20-end.

‘Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’

 

+

 

Our gospel reading is a tale of two households; two very different households!

 

One is the household headed up by the adversary of God, the enemy of our human nature, Satan, a.k.a. the One Who Scatters (‘o diabolos). This is a household at enmity, marked by division and fracture. It’s a dystopian household where egos reign and clash, where no attempt is made to relate graciously to one another. It's typically human, and Genesis identifies it as human behaviour from the beginning, embedded in who we are.

 

The other household, by contrast, is empowered by the Holy Spirit. In this household people seeking Christ, come together and relate to one another, in deepening and flourishing relationships. The words of a psalm come to mind: ‘how very good and pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together in unity’ (Psalm 133.1).

 

This is the work of the Holy Spirit: God’s capacity to weave together disparate people; a bit like us now.

 

In fact, just like us now. This passage is pointing to the indispensability of the Church in the unfolding of the Gospel and the deliverance of the Kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God is not an ‘out there’ remote dream, but God’s reality blossoming through the Church, the web of relationships around Jesus Christ, in heaven and earth.

 

Life lived in this household of Christ, has three key implications for us: ecclesial, political and personal.

 

Ecclesial. That means things to do with the Church. The Church is the household of God where we are schooled and our habits shaped in ways that deeply echo the Kingdom of God: here we relinquish egotism, we give up self to become truly ourselves, in Christ.

 

As Jesus died on the cross this re-fashioning of relationships began. Jesus said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ And to his beloved disciple he said, ‘Here is your mother’. ‘And from that hour’, we read, ‘the disciple took her into his own home’ (John 19.26,27) It shows Jesus’ words in action: ‘Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’

 

Discipleship is the commitment to, and way of patiently growing within the household of Christ, marked by the sign of the cross.

 

Audaciously, we claim in baptism that our relationships in the Church go even deeper than race or heritage, biology or shared DNA: we are brothers and sisters in Christ as those who seek the will of God. That’s a big claim at a time when, in the culture, identity and affiliation is framed in terms that divide rather than reconcile.

 

By placing ourselves here this morning at the Eucharist we come to shape our lives, preferences and habits towards Christ, towards life in the Spirit, in the many mansions of the Father’s house.

 

We are here because we are inhabitants of the household of faith, hope and love; the household of Christ; the household of the Church!

 

There is a political dimension to being part of the household of Christ. Politics is the ordering of the polis, the polis is the shared space of a community’s life, what we call ‘society’ or ‘the culture’. As Christians we need to be confident that we should engage in the life of society and the culture, influence and shape them after the Kingdom of God.

 

If the values of the household of the Church mean anything, they mean that we have something to say to the big questions of our day: how we order our lives together as human beings; what the household of our nation, or global society, could look like. That means speaking about taxes, vaccine availability, the environment and such like. All the more as the G7 meets this week.

 

St Augustine of Hippo, the great North African bishop of the fourth century, didn’t shy away from how we order society to reflect the Kingdom of God. He wrestles with this theme in his great work De civitate Dei, City of God, where he contrasts the city of those who do the will of God and those who refuse it: totally today’s gospel theme.

 

We pursue a just and equitable society, where there is no want, where everyone can be free and honoured, where the burdens of the weak are supported by the strong. That’s not because we’re of the left or of the right, but because it’s the vision found in the gospels and in the Book of Revelation where the earthly city is swept up into heaven gathered around the throne of the Lamb.

 

That is why the Church engages wholeheartedly in politics, it’s about shaping our local, national and global household, so that all may be brothers and sisters of one another.

 

To stay locked in, or withdraw, makes us just quite worthy, probably good and pious individuals. We can and should shape society. And we can do much better than sniping at politicians or blaming those who think differently from us - I am thinking of the Bishop of St David’s here – for politicians have rolled up their sleeves to shape society. Do pray for all Christian politicians around the world.

 

This may all sound big and highfaluting. The vision of Christ’s household is even more than global; it’s cosmic. But it is also deeply personal. Not private. Personal.

 

Ultimately we have to ask, how do I order the household of my own soul, mind and body? Is it a place where the Holy Spirt leads and guides; is it divided amongst itself; does it reflect the Kingdom’s priorities? Is the household of my soul filled with faith, hope and love?

 

Brothers and sisters! That is a big task. As we gather at the altar in our household let us rejoice in one another, and commit ourselves to live out the coming Kingdom of God.

 

Pruning, grafting, growing, fruiting: Christ the True Vine

Preached as a homily at Croydon Minster on the Fifth Sunday of Easter. Readings: Acts 8.26-end; John 15.1-8

I am the True Vine, says the Lord.

 

+

 

When I was chaplain at the University of Surrey my Roman Catholic colleague would take students preparing for Confirmation to Denbies Wine Estate near Dorking. It was a nice day out, they had something to eat, and drink, and they walked through the vineyard and learnt how the vines were tended and made connections with today’s gospel and what flows from it.

 

Viticulture, the tending of vines, is what the vine grower does, and it is the image Jesus draws on. He speaks of pruning and grafting and growing and fruitfulness.

 

Vines grow and are fruitful through pruning. Pruning - chopping off excess growth - focuses fruitful growth.

 

Then there’s grafting, when almost miraculously the branch taken from one plant grafted into another grows well. The host vine has to be cut into to receive the graft, and, once it does, the host vine gives life to the branch.

 

So where could we take this image?

 

The pruning of the vine of my soul is about cutting out the excesses of my ego to allow Christ to be fruitful in me; it’s about pruning the parts of my life that have become lifeless and dry to generate abundant life in me; it’s about pruning out my vices so that my virtues grow and bear the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5.22,23).

 

The grafting of the vine speaks of the wounds of Christ which his body bears into which we, with our pains and sorrows, are grafted. The prayer Anima Christi speaks of this. In the words of St John Henry Newman’s translation:

 

Passion of Christ, my comfort be;

O good Jesus, listen to me;

In Thy wounds I fain would hide;

Ne'er to be parted from Thy side;

 

Or from the hymn, ‘Soul of my Saviour’

 

Strength and protection may thy passion be,

O blessèd Jesus, hear and answer me;

deep in thy wounds, Lord, hide and shelter me,

so shall I never, never part from thee.

 

That is grafting, never being parted from the life-giver.

 

That is why Jesus can describe himself as the True Vine. And that vine pours out his life for us. The wine of the Eucharist is that sacramental sign of his lifeblood.

 

The grapes are harvested and then crushed. Crushed to release the juice that becomes the wine. Jesus is crushed on the cross, blood flows from his side, with water: both speak of water and wine; Baptism and Eucharist.

 

It calls to mind too the miracle at Cana, the first of Jesus’ signs: the transformation of water into wine.

 

And wine is of course integral to the Eucharist. The norm is that we receive the Body and Blood of Christ. What a deprivation it is not to receive the chalice at the moment.

 

In the chalice we receive the lifeblood of Christ, poured out for us and for our salvation. The prayer of the preparation of the chalice says:

 

Blessed are you Lord, God of all creation,

through your goodness we have this wine to offer,

fruit of the vine and work of human hands.

It will become for us the cup of salvation.

 

The Book of Common Prayer has a prayer known as the Prayer of Humble Access. It prepares us to receive the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist. It ends by asking that ‘we may evermore dwell in Christ, and he in us’. That is about being grafted into Christ, the True Vine.

 

Jesus says, ‘I am the true vine’. When grafted in the branch receives life from the host, the true vine. Once grafted in the branch can be said to ‘abide’ in the vine.

 

We may not use the word much now, except when we sing ‘Abide with me’: to abide is to live somewhere; even more than that, it is to dwell, to rest, to find a home.

 

We are invited to find a home, a resting place, a dwelling, an abode in Jesus Christ. Abiding with Christ is to be at home with him, receiving his life and giving our lives.

 

Remember Christ has made his home with us - ‘The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us’ (John 1 14) – and, at the end of our life on earth, he promises that in his Father’s house there are many dwelling places, places to rest, to find our truest home (John 14.2).

 

And all this abiding is for the point of growing into the full stature of Christ (Ephesians 4.13), bearing fruit. The passage concludes, ‘My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples’ (John 15.8).

 

As disciples we are being grafted into Christ. The sacraments are the grafting points into his Body for his disciples: water and blood; baptism and Eucharist.

 

As disciples we learn and grow, we turn away from what is dead and dry, so that we may glorify God in our lives. This is not a competition, not to be measured against anyone else, but a patient, growing, fruitful grafting into Christ, for this is the only goal of the Christian life.

 

‘As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love’ (John 15.9)

'Come to the Feast of Love and Transformation'

 First preached as sermon at Croydon Minster on the Third Sunday of Epiphany (Gospel: John 2.1-11)

+

The wedding feast at Cana is the setting for a most wonderful miracle of transformation and new possibilities. In a celebration of love, a wedding, Love himself, Jesus Christ the source of love and life, is present as the true Bridegroom coming to be united to us his church.

 

St John calls what happens at Cana a ‘sign’: a sign points to something beyond itself.

 

So where does this sign of the miraculous transformation of water into wine point us today?

 

Water transformed into wine is startling and amazing to us now as much as to the guests at the wedding; it is a sign revealing God’s glory, prompting belief in the disciples.

 

The sign of water and wine points to our life in Christ as his disciples. In the water of baptism we are cleansed and born anew. The wine signifies the wine of the Eucharist, the blood shed for us on the cross for our salvation and transformation, in which we drink – in normal times – the life of Christ.

 

The sign of water and wine points us to the Cross, where we will see Jesus glorified, and water and blood flowing from his loving heart. His Mother, Mary, stood faithfully by that cross, seeing the water and blood – a sword piercing her own heart too.

 

And Mary herself is a sign pointing to her Divine Son. At Cana she spoke four simple words to prompt Jesus’ action: ‘they have no wine’. On one level Mary is simply observing the practical reality that the wine at the feast has run out. She is also speaking more deeply, recognising lives not lived to the full – they have no wine - and pointing to the heavenly feast, the Eucharist, where Christ is present and transforming lives.

 

In Christ lives are transformed. The lives of the saints bear witness to that. And closer to home, as a priest I have been privileged to witness moments of transformation in people’s lives and to walk with them as their lives turn around. Those moments are as miraculous in some ways as water turned to wine, as a person puts the darkness behind them and walks into the light as a servant of Christ.

 

The sign points us to be faithful servants of Jesus Christ. Mary says ‘do whatever he tells you’. That is a call to service. It is the servants, not the principle guests, who first knew what had taken place at the wedding feast. That calls us to remember it is those who serve the purposes of God in their lives in simple ordinary ways of everyday holiness, who first glimpse his glory.

 

So, the sign of water and wine points us beyond the incredible or unlikely into the possibility of transformation. The sign points us to see God’s glory revealed in Jesus Christ whose hour is now coming when he comes as the Bridegroom to woo, us his people, back to his loving, transforming heart. The sign tells us that we are invited to the wedding feast of love and transformation.

'This is the Christ' A homily for the Baptism of Christ

 First preached as a homily at Croydon Minster 10th January 2021.

‘This is the Christ, the Chosen of God,

the one who will bring healing to the nations’

(Antiphon to the Benedictus in Epiphany, Common Worship: Daily Prayer)

 

+

 

‘Behold!’ - says John the Baptist – look, feast your eyes: this is the Christ.

 

Today, at the river, John fulfils his title and baptises Jesus in the waters.

 

In water - the signifier of life, creation and renewal - is where your rebirth, and mine, takes place.

 

Baptism washes us clean from sin and we are born into the life of Christ. So Jesus does not need baptism from John, except to reveal himself to us, to make the waters holy and to promise abundant life.

 

Here is the life of the Blessed Trinity. The Father-Creator speaks; the Spirit descends - as at the creation – and the Word, from the beginning, in flesh stands in our midst.

 

The divine life is seen on earth so that human life may be transformed and renewed, reflecting the ways of heaven which is now torn open so that we can see God’s ways, the ways of heaven.

 

Life in Christ means that we are set on fire with faith, hope and love which flows from God, within and amongst us, spilling out into the world which is already his. His grace flowing before us transforms, renews and heals his distorted and disfigured creation.

 

The Baptism of Christ reveals that if anyone is in Christ there is New Creation (cf 2 Corinthians 5.17).

 

The light of the first day of the Creation shines out today, because ‘from sunrise to sunset this day is holy, for Christ has risen from the tomb and scattered the darkness of death with light that will not fade’ (Preface for Sundays in Ordinary Time, Common Worship).

 

And now, heaven is torn open, bread is broken, hands outstretched and Christ’s body presented to us afresh so that again we are transformed, renewed and recreated in his love.

A sermon for the Presentation of Christ in the Temple

First preached as sermon at Croydon Minster on the feast of The Presentation of Christ in the Temple

+

A community - spanning the generations - with the eyes of all fixed upon Jesus Christ.

That is a pretty reasonable working definition of what a church is called to be: a community, those who break bread together - spanning the generations - with the eyes of all fixed upon Jesus Christ, God Incarnate.

It is something of the scene described in this morning’s gospel reading. A woman and a man - Anna and Simeon - both advanced in years; both expectant and full of hope praying in the Temple: a woman and man, Mary and Joseph, two young parents expectant and full of hope bringing their child to the Temple as required by the Law of Moses.

Anna and Simeon are in the Temple, the place of encounter with God, looking for the coming Lord.

They could have said, as the psalm puts it, ‘we wait for thy loving-kindness, O Lord: in the midst of thy Temple’ (Psalm 48.8).

In the arms of his Mother, Jesus Christ is brought into their midst: the Hope of the Nations, the Light to Enlighten All People, God’s Own Salvation.

The words of the prophet Malachi are fulfilled for Anna and Simeon, ‘the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple’ (Malachi 3.1).

So we have the elders, Anna and Simeon, and the young parents, Mary, Jesus’ mother and Joseph, her husband and Jesus’ guardian.

This is the image from the icon of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple that you have on the prayer cards distributed this morning.

From left to right:

Joseph stands holding the two young pigeons for the sacrificial offering in the Temple and gazing over at Jesus.

Next to him is Anna, pointing at Mary, whose role was always to be the Mother of God, in Greek Theotokos, also translated, Godbearer. And Anna looks at Mary’s Son and holds in her hand an unfurled scroll with words of prophecy and expectation about Christ.

Then there is Mary herself, who has handed over her child - from the vestibule to the sanctuary - and like Anna, she has a gesture of pointing towards Jesus.

Then the heart of the icon: all eyes are directed at Jesus, who gives the appearance of tugging Simeon’s beard (just like when I have baptised babies and had my nose pinched, lapel microphone torn off and eye poked: yes, all that has happened).

And Simeon bears in his hands his Saviour and ours. It is almost as if he is receiving Holy Communion, and indeed he is, and look at the warmth of his loving gaze, and the reverence of his receiving of Jesus.

This is an inter-generational scene if ever there was one. The church is one of the few places that young and old come together, not graded by precedence but on an equal footing, because we are all here as children of the Most High, children of God.

Receiving Jesus is at the heart of Candlemas and the Christian life. And it has a practical outworking that we’ve been pondering in this church over since the Feast of the Epiphany.

How we receive children in church is a measure of our delight, valuing and welcome of the youngest into our midst, even if they figuratively pinch our noses, poke our eyes, or, more likely, bellow and wail.

Modern re-working of the traditional icon
of the Presentation, seen in a church in Ghent

Last Sunday leaders and helpers from our groups for children and young people at this church met to consider how best our children and young people might be served here, and how they remind us all of the call to be welcoming and hospitable to everyone.

That is what our Candlemas prayer card is for, that we might pray for the whole church family so that we may all, young and old, grow in wisdom.

So Candlemas tells us to welcome the young, appreciate those nurturing the young, and also value the precious wisdom that can come with years.

On one level that just gives us a sociological insight into the church; that is, if we fail to see that what is being presented in Christ is the mystery of his incarnation and the fullness of the Gospel. That’s what Simeon and Anna, Mary and Joseph see in the Temple when Christ is presented there.

The presentation of Christ in the Temple moves us on from any sociological observations and takes us deep into the realities of life and mortality, love and loss, hopes and pain.

Avoidance of the cost and pain of life and Christian discipleship does no one, least of all our children, any favours. The gospel is cheapened when we airbrush out the radicalism of its power, and try and blunt its dramatic message and full implications. That would be to proclaim Easter with the Cross. It’s what the twentieth century German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls ‘cheap grace’:

Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession... Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate. (Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship)

Grace is free, but should never be cheapened; that’s Bonhoeffer’s point. Cheap grace does not equip us to handle the predicament of being human, loving and losing, cherishing and weeping:

Anna knows God’s free gift of grace, having lived a life in loneliness as a widow for many years, worshipping and fasting, yet until this moment never having her hopes truly fulfilled. 

Simeon, a righteous man, knows God’s liberating grace as he sees his mortality in a new and liberating way: he can now die, knowing he has seen the Lord’s Messiah.

Mary learns of the costly grace that will come with the redeeming death of her son on the cross, as a sword pierces her own soul.

This is profoundly realistic about life. Christians do not live in cocoons. If we walk the way of the cross we can’t.

That is what the Candlemas Procession tells us: knowing Christ as Emmanuel, God with us, through his incarnation - and bearing candles signifying that light - we turn – young and old - from the Crib to the Cross, from the birth to the death of Jesus. Mortality is never far from our doors. Yet marked with the sign of the cross, recipients of the blood of Christ, our hope is well placed in the Light to enlighten the nations, Jesus Christ, our hope and our salvation.

Simeon glimpsed this truth and will have recognised its coming in every fibre of his being, for, as he knew from the psalms:

‘… this God is our God for ever and ever: he shall be our guide unto death’ (Psalm 48.13)

Flowing Blessings: A Sermon for the baptism of Christ

First preached as a sermon at Croydon Minster on the Feast of the Baptism of Christ, 12^th January 2020. Readings: Isaiah 42.1-9; Matthew 3.13-17

                                                                            

+

The liturgical year moves swiftly on,

like a mighty flowing river.

No sooner than we celebrate the birth of Jesus

Than we celebrate the Epiphany,

            and the visit of the Magi would have been some while

            after his birth.

And today we celebrate

            the Baptism of Christ,

which we know to have been 30 years after his birth.

The liturgical year

            isn’t concerned with keeping to time,

                        but with

            revealing the mysteries of God.

The Baptism of Christ sits beautifully

            in this wonderful season of light    

                        that spills out

            from the celebration of his birth.

It is a rich,

and densely packed,

mystical moment.

            The heavens open!

It is another Epiphany,

            a manifestation,

                        a showing forth

            of the glory of God

                        revealed in human flesh:

            it is an incarnation moment.

It is a moment

when we apprehend

the movement of the Blessed Trinity –

            Father, Son and Holy Spirit –

                        the Spirit descends like a dove,

                                    and the Heavenly Father declares

                                                of Jesus,

                                    ‘this is my Son, the Beloved’.

*

I was at our cathedral church in Southwark last week

            for the Mass of Requiem

of a former Vicar of Croydon,

            Bishop Ronald Bowlby,

who died just before Christmas.

Bishop Ronnie was Vicar during the centenary celebrations

            of the consecration of this church,

                        and this afternoon we begin our celebrations

                                    of 150 years since the consecration.

In the cathedral

there is a crib scene

of life size figures around the font of the cathedral.

Flanked by his blessed Mother, Mary, and St Joseph

            the Christchild

appears to be resting on the font itself.

It’s a fascinating juxtaposition

            of the birth of Christ

                        and our baptism.

Baptism is a birth:

            birth into

                        the life of the heart of God;

            birth into

                        the Church,

                                    the Body of Christ;

            birth in

                        the Holy Spirit.

And that life itself

            should flow out of us

            into the world

                        that is created

                                    and hallowed

                        by God.

One of the tasks of a Christian

             day by day

is to proclaim,

            live out

                        and be

God’s blessing

            in a world that seems bereft of blessing today.

An expression of that

will take place today

from the cathedral, as, after the Eucharist,

the Bishop and congregation goes out

            to bless

                        and hallow

            the waters of the River Thames

from the bridge linking Southwark Cathedral with St Paul’s.

It’s not just a quaint ceremony,

            but a confident declaration

                        that God’s blessing

            is the life

            running through our communities

                        like a mighty river.

As Christ was plunged into the waters of baptism

            at the hands of our own patron saint, St John the Baptist,

so he bestows

            and hallows

the waters of the new Creation:

            as he says,

‘The water that I will give will become in [you] a spring of water gushing up to eternal life’ (John 4.14b).

Water is the stuff of life;

            the stuff of life

                        is made holy

            by Christ:

                        the One

            who transformed water

                        into rich wine at the Wedding Feast.

The River Wandle

            no longer runs past the Minster,

but if it did,

I hope we would be out there

            blessing the waters.

In the absence of an actual river

            we’re prompted to reflect on the blessings

                        that we yearn

                                    to see

                                                flowing

                        from this church today:

            we can touch people’s lives and hearts

                        with the flowing blessings of Christ.

*

We want to see

            the gospel of Jesus Christ flowing

                        like a mighty river

            through the heart of this town of Croydon.

We said that in our church vision day last summer.

This church

            is the ancient

                        and enduring

            spiritual heart of Croydon.

We don’t want it to be

            a stagnant tributary,

                        but a life bearing river,

            teeming with blessing

                        and hope.

In the prophet Ezekiel

            we see a vision of the Temple

from which flows water.

            It’s the text known as Vidi Aquam

                        that will be sung

            as water is sprinkled

                        from the font in this liturgy.

Water flows from each corner of the Temple

            getting deeper

                        and deeper,

            flowing from the Temple,

                        out

                                    beyond itself

            into a stagnant salty sea

                        which is then transformed

            and teems with fish

                        and life.

Oh to be that sort of Temple!

In the 150^th year

            of the hallowing of this building

                        may our culture and expectation here

                                    be one of abundance

                                                and not scarcity;

            one that celebrates the blessings,

                        the life of the teeming town of Croydon.

When it rains heavily

            the Minster can appear to have a moat,

such is the poor drainage.

We don’t want to be

            a moated,

            cut off community –

                        quite the opposite! –

            we yearn to be

                        a community that flows out

            with life beyond ourselves:

                        are you; are we, ready for that?

A church is consecrated;

            people are baptised.

Both

are temples of the Spirit,

            houses of prayer

                        and of the abiding presence

            of Christ.

Tomorrow the Church Council, the PCC,

            will be considering

                        how we renew the life of this church

            by beginning to sketch out a ‘strategy’

                        for our work with Children and Young People (CYP).

            The young bring life.

As we consider the place of the CYP of our church,

            and honour that place,

we find that it tells us about the sort of church

            we might really be.

Do we merely tolerate

            or really welcome

the young,

            or anyone for that matter?

How a church treats its CYP

            reveals a great deal:

                        about

                                    how seriously it really welcomes, cherishes and values

                                    everyone - regardless of age, background etc, - unconditionally;

                        about

                                    how open it is

                                    to transformation

                                    and growth;

                        and about

                                    how it really values people

                                                for who they are now,

                                    not just as some sort of insurance policy

                                                for the church

                                    continuing when we’re all dead!

Developing a strategy for CYP

            is one a way in to clarifying a vision

                        of the church

            and it has a missional impetus too:

engaging with CYP means

also engaging with

                        their families

            and supporting parents and carers,

                        who are the primary catechists –

                                    teachers and nurturers in the church;

it makes us reflect

            more widely

            on catechesis beyond the young in years,

                        to the young and immature in the faith

                                    (who may be advanced in years);

it makes us reflect

            on the sacraments of initiation – baptism and confirmation;

            about how we equip,

                        and are equipped to be,

                                    lifelong disciples;

it makes us think

            about how we connect

                        with other aspects of the life of our wider community

                                    institutionally and personally,

                        with schools, playgroups, young carers.

Christ stepped out of the River Jordan

            and his public ministry

                        of healing,

                        forgiving

                        and revealing the mysteries of God

            flowed out from him

                        in the wilderness.

As we celebrate the consecration of this building

            and our own baptism

both to be temples of the Holy Spirit,

may we be:

             healed and healing;

                        forgiven and forgiving;

                                    alive and life-giving.

Then we will truly be

            a blessing

                        to our community

                                    it all its teeming diversity.

Pray that the Holy Spirit

            will flow around this church,

                        and this community.

Pray for discernment and wisdom

            and please pray particularly

for our children and young people,

            giving thanks

                        for the life they bring to us

                        in Christ.

Amen.