I’ve been a bit quiet in this space. I’ve been writing my words but not sharing them.
It’s hard when so much is going on both personally and in the world – I don’t really know what I want to say and I’m not very sure who I want to say it to either.
However I couldn’t avoid sharing some words on Sunday as I’d long ago agreed to step up to the chapel lectern and have my first experience of being the ‘speaker’ at a church service.
The sung evensong used the 1662 Book of Common Prayer and although the music was beautiful and the atmosphere thoughtful and reflective, particularly in the light of the attacks on Paris on Friday, I began to wonder if the words I had carefully worked on and crafted, would have any meaning to anyone sitting there.
I was speaking on life in the unexpected places. The cracks that appear in the smooth walls of our lives. The way that life doesn’t turn out the way we expect it to. I wasn’t giving neat conclusions and happy endings, but I did want to share my belief that there is hope.
I was going to talk about the time when I realised that God accepted me just as I am, and the way that led the way to my own acceptance of my beautiful and broken personhood.
I don’t know if every preacher thinks the same thoughts every time they wait to share the words they’ve prepared ? Will these words just bounce off the people ? Am I talking nonsense ? Is any of this true anyway?
I spoke the words I’d written.
And as I spoke the words I had a confidence in them. Not because it was a well crafted, well structured talk, but because they were my truth. Every word of it was my truth.
I realised that wherever and whenever we share our words all we need to do is to share our truth and tell of the light as we have seen it.
So I am here again.
Showing up and telling my truth.
Telling of the light as I have seen it.