For the last twenty-five years, every time I’ve been on holiday, I’ve bought something for the Christmas tree. It has become something of a tradition. Each year, shortly before Christmas, as I decorate the tree, I remember all the places that I’ve been, the adventures, and the people. One by one, the ornaments come out of their wrapping: the paddle-steamer from New Orleans; the cone and leaf from the California redwood forest; the star from Hobart; the snowflake from Toronto; the hot air balloon from the south of France; the bell from St Louis; the covered bridge from the Green Mountains in Vermont. It’s an annual event that leaves me feeling more thankful than nostalgic. Friends will appreciate that I’m never too sad to put it all away when Christmas is done; I do love the neat-and-tidiness of the post-Christmas period.
But there is, in my house, another “Christmas tree” of sorts that remains all year round. I say “tree” but it’s actually a ceramic toast rack in the shape of five ducks that I bought from a local potter when I was living in the Cotswolds. Suspended from or wedged into the toast rack are many items that were either made for me or gifted to me over the years since living in Australia. These items are not everyday use items, and yet they’re all too precious to be hidden in that shoebox of old letters and ticket stubs I keep in the study.
The toast rack collection includes a church painted on a little stone, an olive wood cross, a copper plated gum leaf, a paper plumb bob, a rosary, a wine bottle cork, a little furry owl, half a dozen hearts, and more. It’s a curious collection of items, but I see it every day when I fetch something from the kitchen dresser. And unlike the Christmas tree ornaments which all point backwards to holidays past, the toast rack collection tells stories that point to who I am today, who I am called to be, and who I am seen to be.
The little stone church was painted and given to me by a colleague who had worked alongside me at Eldercare for 3 years and witnessed the ministry of presence there – how I searched for holy ground in the day to day lives of the residents. I love how Barnes speaks about “the Holy haunt[ing] the landscape of life… whether it’s buried in the ordinary, the fleeting moments of delight and surprise, or the places of pain.” That little painted church reminds me of the privilege of being called into ministry, and how good it is to find yourself in the service of others. On the stone, the church windows look as if the lights are on, and I think especially of the Sunday evening Quiet Hour at Clayton Wesley, when our doors are open and the lights are on for anyone to come in and find holy ground. Peter says, “always be ready to tell anyone the reason for the hope that you have.” Certainly, during those Eldercare years, I was seen to wear that hope on my sleeve, and together we regularly found ourselves on hope-filled holy ground.
The little olive wood cross comes from Jerusalem, and was given to me on my ordination day. At the time, I was wearing the leather cross given to me the first day I went into prison with Kairos Prison Ministry. Looking at the olive wood cross, my mind wanders to the image of Jesus carrying His cross through those streets towards Calvary for all of us. I think of Jesus’ call to anyone who would be a disciple to take up their own cross daily and follow. Right now, I am comforted when I reflect that in every situation of life, our God is an understanding God – our anguish is met by His in Gethsemane, our pain is met by His on Calvary. I can take my difficult day or my dry season full of wondering and waiting directly to the heart of God in prayer, and be heard and known and understood there. That was the certainty I carried with me every day I served in prison. And it is still the message that sustains me, and that I continue to preach.
The cork comes from a very expensive bottle of wine I shared with the same friend who gave me the olive wood cross. I think about Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana. How a wedding celebration is saved, the potential for dishonour is gone, and Jesus’ life-changing ministry has begun. I preached from this text at Clayton’s 140th celebration almost a year ago now, sharing how the wine Jesus gives is “the best wine!” For me, the notion that God is willing and desires for us to drink better wine is irresistible! “I came that you might have life, and life abundant,” Jesus says later in John’s Gospel. Not some unrealistic prosperity gospel, but a clear invitation to a feast, to a shared meal, to welcome, hospitality, and fellowship – and all that even when times are testing…
Truth be told, it has been a pretty bumpy landing back into life and ministry after my holiday in England. My time there was too short – unfinished – and I think I am more homesick than I’ve ever been. Nature is struggling to provide its usual consolation; my garden is a sorry sight following an autumn without rain, and the Lofty Ranges are still yellow, with even the reliable early winter orchids struggling to emerge. It’s so easy to feel discouraged and flat in dry times like this.
A better man than me, Brennan Manning had already written half a dozen or so books before he wrote The Ragamuffin Gospel. In the preface, he explains how it is “a book I wrote for myself.” In his book, Manning reminds his readers – and himself! – “not to confuse their perception of themselves with the mystery they really [are].” And the mystery is, that despite everything I am or may be feeling, despite my own unworthiness or faltering steps, or present discouragements, I can and must hold on to the fact that I am nevertheless known by God, loved by God, saved by God, called into His work, and welcome at His table! And not in an abstract or imaginary way, or some private revelation in my study either. But rather – as most of the items in my toast rack attest – in a real and public way: I have been known, loved, seen and received by others while I’ve been at work for the Gospel in every place where I’ve been called to serve. Times of blessing have always come around. God is both loving and faithful. I surrender to His timing. God has been blessing His ministry, and blessing this humble servant caught up in that work. May God bless the folks I encounter as His ministry continues. And as for the rain, John Waller’s song says it all:
“I’m waiting on You Lord, And I am hopeful.
I’m waiting on You Lord, though it is painful, but patiently I will wait…
While I’m waiting I will serve You, while I’m waiting I will worship
While I’m waiting I will not faint, I’ll be running the race, even while I wait.”
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Scripture refs taken from: 1 Pet 3:15, Lk 9:23, Is 53:4, Jn 2:1-11, Jn 10:10, Rev 3:21, Ps 139, Jer 31:3, Tit 2:11, Song 2:4, Mt 5:16, Ps 36:5.
“Diary of a Pastor’s Soul” is by M Craig Barnes
“The Ragamuffin Gospel” is by Brennan Manning
“While I’m waiting” is by John Waller