Tag Archives: Jesus

Bubble Church

Bubble Church is beginning in January.

If you’re scratching your head and saying ‘What?’ then read on.

Rev’d Lexi Russell writes:
“I’ve had lots of people ask me, what is Bubble Church? Well, here you go: ‘Bubble Church is a Sunday church service especially for babies, toddlers, and young families. It’s a puppet-packed, Jesus-centred, coffee-and-food-fuelled, 30-minute kids’ and families’ adventure.’

“I am so excited we are going to be launching our very own Bubble Church here in the parish. It’s starting at 9.30am on January 11th at St George’s running every second and fourth Sunday of the month.

“We cannot wait to welcome some new families to church, to share God’s love and explore what it means to be a follower of Jesus together.

“Please tell as many people as you can about Bubble Church. Everyone is
welcome to come along and see what it’s all about. Feel free to contact me with any questions: rev.lexi@badshotleaandhale.org.”

The new Trinity service

Come along to our new informal, contemporary service on the first and third Sunday of the month at 3pm at St George’s, Badshot Lea.

This will be a space where everyone is welcome to come and explore what it means to be a follower of Jesus, look at the Bible, pray and worship together. We can’t wait to see you there. 

Contact Rev’d Lexi for more details. 07792233477.

Pamela’s Licensing

Pamela Marsham will be licensed as a Lay Associate Minister at Guildford Cathedral on Saturday, July 5th at 10.30am.

As a Lay Associate Minister, Pamela will continue work alongside Lexi and the rest of the ministry team. Her course has focused on preaching, teaching and discipleship and she has also done the diocese’s Worship Leaders Course.

“That for me is the most important as my focus is on leading worship. and Lexi is keen for me to continue to do that,” says Pamela. “I have been lucky really, in that I have been able to gain experience in this while training.”

During the course, Pamela particularly valued meeting others who were on the same path as she was. She adds: “We were all on a journey and it was exciting as we didn’t really know what it would actually lead us to do.  I think there are some in the group who will continue the journey and probably go on to train to either be LLMs or even become ordained.  Those roles are definitely not what I will do as obviously age is against me but I can lead worship and that is a great privilege.  I hope, too, that I am showing that age is not a barrier to serving God. 

“I am also reading more theology and am constantly learning more about what the Scriptures teach us.”

Tickets to the licensing have been allocated but if you would still like to attend you can do so and can have unreserved seating which will be towards the back of the cathedral.

Waiting in the dark: a reflection for Good Friday

The night is dark. All that is in front of us is dark. There is no hope of ending. All we can do is endure. How do you endure the unendurable? I don’t know. But it must be done if we are not to die.

For Jesus there was the agony of torture, the knowledge that there was nothing that could stop it. No, he faced the cruellest of deaths. How did he endure? I don’t know. And I do not know how we face the dark and the pain. All I know is that we can run away and hide but it will pursue us, or we can face it. Or we can give up. But can we give up?

When we are in the darkness perhaps all we can do is call for help. We can shut our eyes and pretend that it is dark only because our eyes are shut and that everything is really okay, or we can open our eyes and accept that there is darkness and then, maybe then, we call for help.

And help is not someone solving it. Instead it is like Jesus wanting someone to stay awake with him on that night before his death. Sometimes all we can ask is that someone just stay awake with us in the darkness so that we are not alone. For the darkness is very lonely, but someone there in the darkness, maybe just reaching over and squeezing a hand, can remind us that we are not alone.

Maybe we need to wait in the darkness together until there is a faint dawn. For Jesus, after the night of prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, when dawn broke worse was to come, death in the most agonizing manner. I cannot conceive of the cruelty of humans who would do this to one another. I cannot bear it to think of it because it is too much.

Instead I must wait for the light; I must sit and wait in the darkness, holding on, hoping that there will be light. And I’m going to ask people to wait with me, to wait together for the light that will come one day.

In the terrors of Maundy Thursday night and Good Friday it feels that the darkness will never end, the pain will never end. I think of the relief that Mary, Jesus’ mother, and Mary Magdalene and Mary and Martha, all of them, must have felt when Jesus died. It was over; the agony of their beloved one over. They must have thanked God that it was over. I would have done. Then they would have gone to live their lives in the new, terrible normal. And I think they would have done so together.

So I say to you this Good Friday, if you are in darkness, stay together, call for help. Be next to each other. You cannot solve the darkness and the pain for each other; all you can do is hold on, be there for each other, wait together, because even Good Friday ended eventually. And what the women saw as the new normal of Holy Saturday, also known as Black Saturday, ended too.

It ended with another dawn, a dawn when there was hope again, when everything fell into place, when it was okay. When it was better than okay. When there was hope, when there was light, a new way of living. It all fell into place. And there will be a dawn for us too.

But that is for the future. For now let’s sit in the present together in the dark and be with each other, not afraid to tell each other what our darkness is, where we need light. Or if we have no words for that, if we cannot tell people, then just understand that we need each other.

The invitation

Instead of a sermon on June 23rd, there was a story/imaginative exercise. The congregations at St Mark’s and St John’s heard the Gospel reading Luke 14: 16-24 about a banquet which a man’s respectable friends refused to come to. You can read it here.

This was the story:

I want you to picture something. You have received an invitation to dinner. When you ring the door of the house it is opened by a woman who smiles at you says “Welcome.”  But you feel there is something a bit odd. She is big for a woman and her voice is deep.

You follow her through the house to a room with a huge wooden table and chairs all around. The table is set for dinner and candles on the table make it warm and inviting.

Two men come in, they are holding hands and they greet the woman there “Hello Rachel,” they say.

So she must be a woman.

“Ed, Mike,” she says. “Do sit down.”

Then another person comes in. They are young, boyish, but you are not sure. Is this a young man, or a young woman?

Others arrive. Some of them are alone, some are in pairs, all ages, casual, smart, men, women and those you really don’t know about.

“Come and sit down,” says Rachel, but you feel shy, nervous. Are you in the right place? And who are all these people? They don’t look like the people you normally mix with. You are not sure you fit it.

Then someone else comes in from a door behind you and stands next to you. He greets you by name and you feel that you know him, have always known him. He has such a kind face, the kindest you have ever seen. Maybe it will be alright.

Rachel comes over to him and hugs him and he hugs her tight. Then he waves at someone else and others come over. There is a lot of laughter and hugging and also the food smells amazing. Fresh bread, fish, spices, wow!

You are so hungry.

But you hold back. Is this the place for you? The people seem friendly and happy but they are different. You’re not sure that you should be there or be seen with them. You turn and decide to head out, but maybe you will pop into the bathroom on the way out. You are heading in there when you see Rachel. She’s going to the bathroom too , but really is she really a woman, what is she, no he going to do in there? You are suddenly worried.

You move away from her and find a side door but on opening it there is something going on out there. There’s a group of people, waving banners and shouting. “It’s Adam and Eve! Not Adam and Steve!” “Wake up to the Woke Agenda – protect our children!” “God’s judgement is coming.” “Men are Men and Women are Women. Fact!” You recognize some of the people – you think they might have been on TV. And there is a priest or two, a neighbour, a man wearing an oversize cross around his neck, a woman waving a Bible. They look angry and you are really quite scared. Your neighbour sees you and starts towards you. Then she stops and points at the house behind. “You’ve not been in THERE have you? With THOSE people?” She backs away with a look of disgust on her face. You see her husband too; he looks upset and embarrassed.

“No I…” you start, blushing, but then you remember the man with the kind face and remember how he greeted everyone and how pleased they were to see him and how pleased he was to see them. You wish he was here now. He’d make you feel OK and less scared and lonely. And he didn’t mind being in THERE with THOSE people. There’s something in the back of your mind about love and not judging.

You turn back towards the house but the door you came out of is locked. It must have slammed shut behind you.

Frightened you start to run round the side of the building and you have to go past the angry crowd. They are chanting now. “Sinners! Sinners! Sinners!” You run past their angry faces, their placards. Someone spits at you. You run to the front door and hammer on it. It opens and you fall in, straight into the arms of the man with the kind face. You are safe.

He looks at the crowd and his eyes are sad. He says something under his breath and then he shuts the door and guides you into the room with the table.

There’s a place at the table for you and a plate full of food, a glass of best wine. There is chat and laughter and you relax. You recognize a woman and realise you have seen her at church. She tells you her story and you find out that her eldest child is transgender but she is not sad – she loves them just the same as she always has and she knows how much happier they are. She does worry though as the world isn’t safe for transgender people. Violent attacks are on the up. Opposite you is another woman who tells you about the time she was attacked just for walking down the street.

Then you meet a couple of men. They’ve been together for 36 years. “But we are just as much in love,” one says. “Even though he still won’t put his dirty plates in the dishwasher!” says the other and they laugh.

There’s Sally whose life was she says “A total mess until I accepted who I was.” And Colin who used to be married to Mary but he could never be the husband she wanted. “We were best friends when we were at school so I married her because I thought it would make me straight. Poor Mary.” Poor Colin too you think. “We’re great friends still though” and he points her out. She looks happy now, and so does he.

There’s Danni who is trying to work out who they are; Janey and Susan who met when they were 15 and are now 75. “We had to hide our love from everyone for much of the time.” And Tariq whose boyfriend was attacked and killed in a homophobic attack. He sits quietly near the man with the kind face and seems comforted by being beside him.

On the other side of the man is Anita. She seems nervous but the man is encouraging her to talk. Like you she has questions but she doesn’t like to ask in case people judge her or call her a bigot. She’s not previously come across many people like the ones in the room and she wants to know more. The man tells her that asking questions with respect and no judgement is the way forward. You are relieved. You, too, want to learn.

Rachel serves you more wine and you hear her story. She transitioned when she was 40, after years of being unhappy, and now she is training to be ordained in the Church of England. She’s gentle and full of grace and you feel ashamed for what you thought earlier.

And in the middle of it all is the man. He sees you looking at him and he smiles, a smile that warms you right to the depths of your soul.

He speaks your name and tells you: “These are my friends, welcome at my feast. I’m glad you have met them, glad that you can see that love is here. And where there is love, there is God.”

Mary Magdalene’s story

My name is Mary. I come from a place called Magdala, so I am known by many as Mary Magdalene. People have said many things about me over the years, many, many things to suit their own ideas. All I will say is that I became a follower of Jesus early on. He healed me and I followed him.

Let me tell you about that first morning…

Shhh! It was so quiet, so very quiet. It was dark still, that first morning. My nerves were jangling, I had not slept for three nights. The first because I was fearful, but still hopeful, trying to guess how he would escape the guards. For surely he would. And the next night, that Sabbath night, and the next, I did not sleep. I wasn’t sure I would ever sleep again. How could I? Not after what I had seen. Not after seeing and hearing his agony, not after seeing his broken body, the way he tried to breathe, the awful rasping, the cries, his cries and those of the two men with him. Not after being a witness to that. His face, the mask of pain and despair, was imprinted on my mind. Even now I shudder as I remember it. And his mother, his broken mother, her soundless sobs which she tried to hold in, as she held him, his blood staining her robe, covering her hands, her face as she kissed him, and then the howls of despair at her home, her shaking, my shaking, and everything we knew crushed. All light had gone.

Maybe that was why I left when it was still dark to go to his tomb. I could not bear the light. And I was frightened too, afraid of the Romans, afraid of the religious leaders, afraid, even, of what my neighbours would say. They still treated me with fear and disdain, even after the demons had been cast out from me. They would say that I was like the wild ass; you may think that you have tamed her but she will kick and bite and run wild again. And now the one who had healed me was gone.

It was so quiet. I crept towards the tomb and, in the dark I could not at first make out what had happened. But as the first rays of the sun touched the eastern sky I saw that there was a gaping hole. A gaping hole where the stone should have been over the entrance. They must have taken him! Someone must have stolen him! Why? Who? I was terrified. Where was he? Was I not even going to be able to mourn in peace? I turned and ran, ran all the way to find the others, Simon Peter, John. I gabbled at them that he was gone, stolen, body snatchers, maybe the Romans, but why? And they ran, and they saw that he was gone. Simon even went in. And then they left, confused, talking, arguing even. Saying he was not there and that maybe this was right and good. How could it be? How could anything be good and right? Stupid men with their stupid noise.

I stayed. And it was quiet again. I could hear birds, the first scuttling of lizards as the sun warmed the land. the buzz of flies. I shuddered at the buzzing of flies, remembering the buzz around his body on the cross. I glanced up to see if there were vultures there, circling, looking for death. But the sky was clear. Blue. Why did it have to be blue and beautiful? Why did anything have to carry on now that he was dead? Tears coursed down my face and I stifled my sobs.

My blurry vision settled again on the tomb’s entrance. Was he really not there? And why did it seem so light there? Was it a trick of the sun? Of my tears?  I crept forward, my steps soundless. I bent down and peered in and gasped. Two men in white. Sitting there. Had they been there all along? Had John and Simon seen them?

They smiled at me, and one of them asked me, his voice low and gentle:”Why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” I said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 

Then I heard a sound, a soft footfall behind me and I turned and saw another man. I was weeping so hard that I could not see him properly, or was there some other reason why I thought he must be a gardener? I didn’t recognise him. I couldn’t do, because I knew he was dead.

But then I heard his voice, just one simple word, a word I heard with my ears and with my soul. “Mary!”

It was him! He was back. I leapt at him, held him. My heart pounding. He was back. But he pushed me gently to arms’ reach and said that I must not hold him as he had to go to his father. I didn’t understand then. But he told me to tell the others. His father and my father. Everyone’s father.

I didn’t sleep that night either. I was so excited. I felt maybe I had imagined it, but no, that voice in my soul. Mary. It was him. He knew me.

Then I slept the next afternoon and night. And when I woke before dawn the world was quiet again. Quiet and waiting. I didn’t know what had happened. I didn’t know what we were going to do, what he was going to do. And who would believe us? Unless he was going to appear with some sort of army, that’s what some of them said, a supernatural army. But his mother and I didn’t think that. We knew him better than that. We felt it too, deep down inside. It wouldn’t be something dramatic in the way most people think of drama, nor huge in the way that most people think of huge. Though it would be huge and dramatic, it would be a revolution, life-changing, life-renewing.

But it would start quietly, it would start small. With just a few. And it would start, it was starting already with the change in us. Without that change, who would believe us, they’d think we were mad, delusional, thinking we had seen him just because we wanted to, because we couldn’t accept that he had gone. And who would blame them? But with that change, that quiet, but overflowing certainty that he was alive, he is alive, that he still knows us, still calls us to follow him, then they would know start to ask the questions about what had happened, then they would start to believe us, they would start to change too.

Yes, shhh, it starts quietly in us, in the change in our hearts as we open ourselves to follow him, as we open ourselves to love, to his love, to the love of God. And then it grows and it grows, and it really is quite huge, and dramatic.

Questioning Faith – ask whatever you want

Who exactly is Jesus? The Christmas season celebrates his birth of Jesus of Nazareth, but who was that Jesus and why is he so important that we remember him 2,000 years after his birth? This is the sort of question which will be raised in ‘Questioning Faith’, a series of five Wednesday evening discussions which will take place in Hale, starting on January 3rd.

Questioning Faith is being run by Lesley Crawley, and anyone who is interested is invited to come to The Rectory, 25 Upper Hale Road, each Wednesday at 7.30pm from January 3-31.

Anyone who has questions about God, the Christian faith, church, or anything about the meaning of life, is invited to join in for 90 minutes of discussion every Wednesday evening. The sort of questions raised on Questioning Faith courses include What about the problem of evil?  How should we read the Bible; what kind of literature is it?  What is faith?  Why go to church?  What is the nature of God?  Who is Jesus?  What is prayer?

No question is too small, too daft, or too controversial to ask, and everyone is welcome whatever their beliefs. After the course there will be the opportunity to be confirmed into the Anglican Church at Easter in Guildford Cathedral, though this is, of course, optional.

For further information about Questioning Faith contact Rev’d Lesley Crawley on 01252 820537.

Rainbow ‘Campfire Service’

You are invited to a ‘campfire service’ for LGBTQI+ people, friends, colleagues and supporters, at St Mary’s Church, Quarry Street, Guildford, on Wednesday, March 15, from 7.30pm. Hot chocolate and flapjacks will be offered on arrival.

The theme of a “campfire service” arose from considering how much strength we can receive when we gather together around the warmth of a fire. God is with us, in darkness and in light, when troubled and when at peace. When two or three – or more – gather together, the presence of Jesus, and the warmth of fellowship, is with us.

There will be songs and testimony, prayers and words of hope. As we draw together, we find courage not to be scared of the night. We are able to see more in the darkness because of each other’s light.

To find out more and to sign up for updates, contact Jonathan Hedgecock

Talking Jesus

A new six-week course for small groups starts next week in the parish – Talking Jesus.

This course will look at how we can share our faith naturally with those we meet. There will be videos, practical tips, a look at what exactly it is that we are sharing, and plenty of opportunity for discussion.

The course will take place in person and via Zoom for those who prefer this and there are at least two groups planned – Tuesday evenings in person, starting on October 11th at 7.30pm, and Wednesday evenings on Zoom, starting on October 12th also at 7.30pm.

Conversations with Christians are one of the most important influences in bringing people to faith. This course will inspire you to share your faith and will give you practical suggestions to help you to be natural and relevant as you talk about Jesus with the people you meet.

Message us to find out more or email Alan Crawley – revd.alan@badshotleaandhale.org

Details of the course can also be found by clicking here.