We're still here

This is an odd, unusual time for me.  It's a time of change. A lot of change.  It seems like the culmination of everything that happened in the past year.

My wife gave birth to our son at the end of September, 2017.  Ten days later my boss, our vicar, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.  Dealing with that has been difficult, to say the least.  It was a strange mixture of happiness about the birth of our son and the death of a dear friend and mentor; a father-figure since my dad passed away in 2014.  It was especially tough around Christmas. The whole church was hurting.  And yet we kept on doing what we were doing as best we could.  By the grace of God.

Some months later I went on a selection panel for possible ordination training in the CofE.  I wasn't accepted.  In fact, I missed the mark by not meeting 5 of 9 criteria.  This hurt a lot more than I would like to admit for two reasons: 1) It was the final step in a two and a half year process of discernment during which everyone involved believed I was ready to start ordination training; 2) Trevor, my boss, was one of my most avid supporters in this process before passing away. On a sidenote: Trevor's last message to me was congratulating me for getting through the stage before going to a BAP.  He died that afternoon.

Then it was Easter.  A time when the church remembers Christ's suffering, death and resurrection.  In some way there was a sense of resurrection at church as well.  Even though we were all still hurting and processing the death of our friend and colleague, we started praying more intently for the person who would succeed him.  The position was advertised shortly after Easter and I found myself both looking forward to the glimmers of a new dawn, as well as longing for what was and what used to be.

Our annual family holiday to Southern Africa was a welcome break from all of this.  It was as if this trip was especially blessed.  Everything we did, everywhere we went, everyone we met was as if appointed by God to restore and heal and encourage.  There is something about spending time with family and close friends that restores the soul.  We can experience resurrection and restoration God gives through those around us.  Especially if this restoration happens in some of the most beautiful parts of South Africa accompanied by good South African wine, lots of laughter and love tangibly felt in the company of others.

It was tough getting on the plane back to the UK.  Tougher than it has been before.  But we did it.  And now, at the start of a new academic year, we're facing even more change.  Members from our congregation are moving away for various reasons.  Our staff is changing significantly with some moving on to different things outside of our community and new folks joining.  In the last month we've said goodbye to good friends and colleagues.  Now we're welcoming our new vicar and his wife, as well as new members on staff.  It's an emotionally loaded time and we're still here.

Beyond our community we're facing the fallout of Brexit and the Trump presidency (both the good and the bad).  We're still dealing with refugee crises around the world.  We're experiencing adverse weather: floods, storms, hurricanes, droughts, extreme cold, extreme heat and climate change due to global warming.  We're being divided by difference of opinion over some fundamental issues or trivial, media inspired tidbits.  We're looking for answers we can't seem to find anywhere.  We're looking for certainty no-one can give.  But we're still here.

It's been a pretty full on year.  The good times were really good compared to the bad times, which were really bad.  So here I am, hurting, wondering, waiting, trying to figure things out, trying to make sense of it all, trying to keep myself and everything else together, saying: "We're still here," which is, sometimes, the best and only testimony to God's grace I have.

We're still here.  Thanks be to God.