Category Archives: Twitter

Tidings of comfort and joy

Like the proverbial curate’s egg Twitter has good and not so good parts. I want to celebrate some of the good bits I’ve found personally
1: it connects me more readily with my best friend who lives in a different country and who I see maybe a couple of times a year. She tweets a lot, and was really responsible for getting me started in this. She connects me to her global concerns and also translates stuff for me to join in.
2: as a result I’m connected to more people. This was important at the time, a couple of years ago, when I felt much less connected particularly to the small part of the church to which I had belonged. The silence and isolation I received there was in stark contrast to the voices of those who I connected with on Twitter, many of whom were women working in different ministries and communities and concerns.
3: being more connected meant I heard about stuff I didn’t know about, projects I got involved in, some I still am. Some have reached their goals others are still struggling. Justice and peace are common themes. There is connection. We don’t give up
4: I also connected with other pray-ers and that helped me to feel reconnected to the true concerns of the church, even if I no longer attended and still got angry or cried a lot about what had happened.
5: it also helped me to connect with a world of other things. A boy at school tweets about Rhinos, others choose anti bullying, homelessness or community development. This way I can stay connected to their concerns even when we don’t meet.
6: I met other people through Twitter, some made cakes, were artists, writers, gardeners, foragers, mental health campaigners and much more. I was not alone or isolated
7: of course it didn’t always go well. A troll thought I should stick to the Church of England instead of getting involved in politics. This was when we were ringing for Aleppo. It was amusing because my forbears left the Church of England in 1662. Faith is not apolitical (even in the Church of England).
I know Twitter had an unkind side and that bothers me a lot but it also communicates kindness, concern and connection, and I really appreciate that.

In our life and our believing
The love of God

Twomplet

O God you are my interpreter,
In you I put my trust,
For those challenging times
When face to face or virtually present to each other
We need One to bridge the gap:
We need One with intercultural experience to shepherd a diverse flock.
In this scary landscape where misunderstanding can have life changing consequences,
we need your Spirit of openness in us:
May we not assume evil.
The terrain is yours: websites, social media platforms and a host of other global connections and undulations.

May our praise and prayers twitter on and on and on.

In our life and our believing
The love of God

#twomplet is an on line version of Evening Prayer in German shared through Twitter, that I enjoy with my friend @janestranz who translates it for me

All the baptised

I read a tweet that said ‘Church unity is the responsibility of all the baptised’.
Great, I thought: another one to add to the church this afternoon when we celebrate the Sacrament of Baptism for Jacob, who is 5 years old.
I’ll suggest he joins a Church Unity Commission straight away.
That’s the problem with unity; it has a musty smell and is reminiscent of stale biscuits. More 5 year olds doing Christian Unity would be a great thing. Too much of the time we think these things are just for adults.
This is a false idea. The church is all of us. It’s not about waiting until some of us are more grown up before we take our place. We already have a place: remember that.
The children and young people with whom I work are the Church now and for most of them these division in the Church and ‘different sorts of Christians’ is unfathomable. They just get on with following Jesus where they are alongside each other. To most of them denominational labels have less meaning than the sort of biscuits they prefer.
This afternoon, I shall ask him ‘Do you want to follow Jesus?’ not ‘and shall we dress like this, and meet at these times and say these words only, and let only these people do this, and exclude these ones and make these rules and so on and so on and so on. I realised years ago that once again I’d ‘gone native’ with them. But it makes sense to me too. The wide appeal of Messy Church points to it: make it messy, keep it simple, welcome everyone.
We are doing Christian Unity already, every day. As usual its taking the adults a while to catch up.

In our life and our believing
The Love of God.

…these roads we never planned to take

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This year I will be travelling as a Seeker with the Lay Community of St Benedict. My journey into Benedictine Spirituality began when in my middle 20’s I first visited the Abbey of St Mary’s West Malling, in Kent, which is a Benedictine community. There I was introduced to the Rule and the Hours and they became part of my journey, sometimes close, sometimes more distant companions.
I first read about the Lay Community of St Benedict in the summer when I was walking on the Cleveland Way. It started to pop up on my Twitter feed. Before that I’d taken a retreat in May with another Benedictine Community at Stanbrook Abbey in Wass, and felt a homecoming there. I therefore decided to explore this invitation to be a Seeker and began at the end of November (around my birthday).
The Lay Community is diverse and widespread, I am told. Here begins a year to discern whether my unlikely path merges with theirs. As a result of ‘joining up’ I now receive their regular verses for meditation. Today’s blog title is from the first one and the words are by Peter Millar of the Iona Community, so that is familiar company so far.
There are many roads in my life I never planned to take and I acknowledge the surprising wisdom I have so often encountered on these unlooked for paths. This week I have been ministered to by people of all ages and I have shared in that ministry with them as we fill our Advent cupboard and share our Advent worship, tell our personal stories and listen to each other, as we travel on together on roads we never planned to take.

In our coming and our going
The Peace of God

Who am I?

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(this crucifix is in the church in Messines in northern France)

The pace of the journey had always been hard. The circumstances in which we traveled were never comfortable. There were constant demands on him from both outside and inside the group. He pushed on. That’s when we found we had climbed to the top of another mountain. These places meant much to him; isolated, quite, an awesome view. It was in places like this that he often chose to be alone. On other occasions it would be a major expedition, getting us all up there and back.

We were all still getting our breath when he started: ‘Who am I?’ he asked. Some thought it was a trick question and stated the obvious: ‘You’re Jesus, from Nazareth’, said one, laughing. He went on, going round the group, getting more insistent; ‘Who do other people say I am?’ He came to me: ‘Why do you ask us?’ I said. He licked his cracked, dried lips, and said in a barely audible voice; ‘I don’t know who I am anymore’.

The members of the group looked at each other and no one knew how to break the silence. Eventually, one said; ‘I heard someone say you’re John the Baptist’. That triggered them all off. ‘Well that’s rubbish – he’s already dead’. ‘Herod got him, so what do they mean?’ Another said; ‘Well I’ve heard Elijah’, and another said ‘Yeh, and Jeremiah’. They were all talking at once, trying to help I know, but not really in tune with his state of mind or what he needed right then.

The babble eventually trailed off into silence again. He looked up at Peter and asked him ‘Who do you say I am?’ I wondered what Peter would say, as did we all. What would we have said if he’d have asked us? But Peter, not always good with words, chose a few and tried them. ‘That’s easy’, he said, looking him straight in the face. ‘You’re the one we’ve been waiting for, the Life Giver. God is in you and because of you we have seen God’.

This time no one broke the silence which followed until he did so himself. He weighed up what Peter had said and then he said; ‘Thanks, Peter, you’re a rock to me.  I will build on what you’ve said. It is the key to God’s plan and you will be the key keeper. But let’s keep it to ourselves for now, shall we?’ And we did as he asked.

Copyright: Janet Lees

I wrote this in 2010 and I republish it here after a Twitter conversation concerning images of Jesus living with impairments; in this example a challenge to his mental health. You can use this free in your church, school or community groups as long as it is not for profit and you acknowledge my copyright.

Adventures on Twitter

Since my walk on the Cleveland Way in August I’ve been more active on Twitter. I have found some fun things, often with a serious intention like conservation with @Spokesbird or @LostWombats, from Australia. There are accounts I follow about British Wildlife, a keen interest of mine since childhood, and climate change.
Feminism has been my lifeblood since puberty so it’s been good to follow @Dangerouswomenproject.org as well as particular women like @JoanneChocolat and my former research supervisor, Dorothy Bishop (who always fed the body and the mind).

I follow a number of different voluntary organisations: For example, Scope I used to work for, but also UNICEF who we have supported at school.
People of faith of many different paths are kindly following @silcoateschapel, a small corner of dissenting Christianity in Yorkshire.
All this has helped me to feel more connected again after a period of feeling isolated as a result of the recent review process by my local Synod.
One of the most recent examples of this sense of new connection had come through joining the Finnish churches movement Bellsforaleppo.org.
Since the beginning of term, now 7 weeks ago, we have been thinking about the people of Syria, particularly children in besieged cities and towns and in refugee camps. The young people have many questions and lot of compassion so ringing our small bell in solidarity with people in Aleppo was quickly taken up.
We have now been ringing for a few days and many conversations have also followed from this involvement. We also have a lot more followers on Twitter and from many different places. We must remain focused on our aim of supporting Aleppo through our prayers and actions. But another challenge is I need to learn Finnish.

In our life and our believing
The love of God