This week here in Birmingham, during redevelopment an unexploded WWII bomb was found in Aston. Lives, homes and businesses were under threat, it was chaos, people moved out of their homes, roads closed, businesses made inaccessible while the bomb was made as safe as possible and a controlled explosion prepared for and carried out. We were only marginally inconvenienced, my journey,15 mins usually, was 2.5 hours on Tuesday morning.
It got me thinking and reflecting, what unexploded bombs do we have in our lives? Or even have we dropped into others lives? What harm and damage which has been done or said to us has or did lay dormant? Things just sit there and then suddenly something happens to bring it to the surface. Can we help people do a controlled explosion in pastoral or therapeutic care? What about the guy in the digger who first found it? How do you know when to stop digging?
Originally, the intentionality of the bomb was to harm and cause damage but then became indiscriminate as to where it actually was dropped. Systemic oppression still exists and can do physical and emotional harm. We may still be getting caught in the fallout – sometimes we are at the wrong place at the wrong time. There are individual, family, community, national, international, global bombs – there are bombs that will come back and impact us. we felt the blast a mile away .
Theologically, some things will not heal this side of eternity. Peter lived the rest of life knowing that he denied Jesus. The wounds of Jesus were still apparent in his risen body – wounds shouldn’t be vanished away. In our Christian hope – cross and crown are both significant.
Just because weapons of harm have been dormant for many years, does not mean they are not dangerous. Let’s be gracious with ourselves and others and be prepared for when the churning of life brings new things to the surface. They may need to explode, but let’s offer and help create a safe environment for them to be dealt with.
Many years ago at Spring Harvest, the preacher, Tony Campolo, taught on the phrase that has become almost
Easter folk law, It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming. The sermon was full of hope in the light of current difficulties or circumstances. What do we do when we don’t experience resurrection?
Most of us are personally and or personally know people that are still living in crucifixion Friday rather than resurrection Sunday. Life for them is full of sadness and loss; grief in relationships, careers, health, church etc.
the promises of new life, is still that, a hopeful promise, even still a far off one. Even today as I was dressing to get ready to go and lead an Easter Sunday Morning service at the Children’s Hospital, I was called in before I had even got there to support a family with a very poorly child. It might be Sunday but it feels like Friday. Their hope of resurrection is a literal immediate one. “He is risen, indeed, hallelujah” is a muted chant alongside the cry of lament. It is a needed truth and promise but not our only song in a strange land.
Hope is still needed today as much as it was Friday or any other day. We need compassion and patience for those whose lives don’t follow the seasons of the church. It is many times multi reasoned and complex why life is so full of desolation. We live in the hope of resurrection for ours and others circumstances but in today’s celebrations, let’s be mindful, it may not be today.
At church today we sang a hymn called ‘New every morning’. It has the lines in it
New thoughts of God
New hopes of Heaven
It got me thinking, what hopes of Heaven do I have, how have these changed over the years and what new hopes of Heaven do I have as I get older and see more suffering? In my work at the hospital, a place where there is no more pain, is a hope I share on a regular basis with many bereaved families. Currently for me, being in a place of justice, equality and fairness seems to fill more of my desires. This is alongside a place where people are equipped and motivated to live selflessly. I am curious of our capacity for choice, incidentally, as well as what we will do all day!
As we shared last week from the Lord’s Prayer, another line is your kingdom come on earth as it is in Heaven. This captures the ‘now, not yet’ of our hopes. I wonder what new hopes I will have or need as my body wears out and more sadness fills our world? A bit more now Lord please.
The first thing we had to do when building our coracle was to make a seat! We thought it was very apt it had three pillars to hold it up and take the weight! We joked about carving our initials into the wood to mark our anniversary and the creation of our coracle.
This morning we perhaps need to sit for a while and ponder as the next phase of the journey begins on many different levels and one which feels a bit like a coracle has been launched but we don’t yet know where the winds and the tides will take it. The end of 1 Corinthians 13 came to mind as I was reflecting as I wrote these ‘and the greatest of these is love’ – I continue to hope and work for a more loving world.
This doesn’t fit because it is for a child but I laughed out loud when I saw it – any reason for not doing housework suits me! Over the past couple of weeks I have been sorting out clothes to take to a charity shop because they no longer fit. There is the bit of me that wonders if it would be better to keep them, just in case, but the other bit of me that sees that as lacking hope! Metaphorically we sometimes find ourselves in clothes that don’t fit – sometimes we grow into them, other times we need to get a new wardrobe!
Today is Good Friday, when we remember that Jesus died on a wooden cross, a chopped down tree. Today I will be sharing a time of reflection on the stations of the cross and following our community passion play around the parish. Chopping down trees to make a cross to crucify someone on seems like a horrific thing to do. This picture has the hope of Sunday in it. Being future oriented I sometimes find it hard to enter fully into the moment but I hope today I can focus on the death of Jesus and what that means without automatically looking to Sunday.
The first house we lived in after we married nearly 30 years ago was in a road called The Birches (like the tree in the photo). We had one of those experiences where God spoke to us separately and we were happy that this was the right house for us. Often life is not that clear and it is more of a case of a glimpse of a rainbow, a glimpse of hope that the future will be a place where we encounter the outworking of some of those promises that we have been holding on to.
In the midst of winter, the cold rainy days, leaves on the trees and a rainbow offers a glimpse of spring or summer.