Category Archives: walk

New appointment

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An announcement this weekend by The Unchurch Times confirms the appointment of a Bishop to the newly created Diocese of Boncaster. Reverend Dr Janet Lees, currently Chaplain at Silcoates School will take up her new post on 1st January 2017, when her current post with the URC Yorkshire Synod ends.
Looking forward to the future Dr Lees said today ‘I am thrilled to be appointed to this new post beyond the church as it currently defines itself’.
The aim of the post is to allow the post holder to focus all her time on people who are not presently attracted to the church and those who have already left. In spite of the large numbers of people who have left the mainstream British churches over the last century the churches themselves have only really produced half hearted attempts at walking in faith with those beyond the churches. Fewer and fewer ministries in the declining denominations are set aside for work of this kind with financial restrictions given as the main reason for such limitations and comments like ‘no one else does it like this anymore’ indicating a fundamental lack of vision.
With the decision not to renew her post in the church, Dr Lees said she welcomes the opportunity this presents to join the unchurched. She looks forward to discovering more about the spirituality of her fellow travellers and what sustains others on their journeys outside ecclesiastical structures.
The Diocese of Boncaster has no geographical boundaries which might seem daunting, but Dr Lees, already known as the Roving Rev after her recent walk along the Cleveland Way, is excited by the invitation. ‘Jesus said Come with me. He didn’t say: Stop right there, don’t go any further’.
Mindful of the vibrant early Christian missionary history in the north of England she is intending to concentrate her travels there initially and will serve as Bishop of Boncaster for the Unchurched alongside the Chaplaincy at Silcoates thanks to the generosity of the school.
‘You’d be amazed what you can see from the Chapel door’ she confirmed. Having entertained the BFG earlier this week she feels this is confirmation of God’s call to this post. ‘I am looking forward to many further similar encounters’ Dr Lees stated enthusiastically.

In our life and our believing
The love of God

Longdendale Valley Walk

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Living here for over a decade, I have long thought that Psalm 23 is the psalm for this Valley. The valley stretches from the village of Hadfield up towards Woodhead Pass and is occupied by a chain of reservoirs built over 150 years ago to provide a water supply to Manchester. If you have ever taken the A628 you will have travelled along it but there are quieter parts and calmer places in the valley. I often walk and pray here and psalm 23 is often in my mind when I do.

The Lord is my Shepherd
The valley is a sheep place. They are all around in the fields and escapees are sometimes on the road as well. As I sit listening I can hear a Shepherd working the nearby flock with his dog: ‘come by’ he calls.

I shall not want. He makes me walk in green pastures and leads me by still waters and restores my soul, guiding my steps on the right paths
The walk today is along part of the Longdendale Trail, a disused railway line, and back along the otherside of the reservoirs: Rhodeswood, Valehouse and Bottoms. There are green pastures and still waters a plenty. Walking is one of my preferred activities and I do find it restorative providing a rhythm to help me stop ruminating on things running round my head.

Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall not be afraid for you are with me
After a short detour from my usual path I come across the entrance to an old tunnel under the line of the old railway. It is lined with stone marked by grafitti, and the entrance is mossy and surrounded by brambles. I have not been here before. As I enter the tunnel, which of course is dark, I notice it slopes downwards. I can see the light at the end and more brambles framing the other entrance.

Your rod and staff they comfort me
I step into the tunnel and use my stick to help me to negotiate the dark and slightly slippery route to the other end. The sound of it tapping on the stones echoes back to me in a reassuring way.

You have prepared a table in the presence of my enemies and filled my cup to the brim
Just before the tunnel I stopped at a tea shop. I’ve not been to it before although it has been open a while. It is an old farmhouse and there is a terrace of inviting tables. I choose a toasted tea cake oozing with melted butter and feel very welcome. A glass of cold tap water, made up of those minuscule molecules on which all life depends, completes my banquet.

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I shall live in God’s house forever.
A few late speckled wood Butterflies dance along the path. Faded with fraying wings, they signal that summer really is ending. The heather has finished blooming and whilst the foliage is mostly still green, here and there rusty spikes of dock and browned bracken frame the path heralding the next season. I will enjoy walking this way again with the vault of the sky above me and the well trodden path beneath my feet, remembering this Psalm, amongst others.

In our coming and our going
The Peace of God

Lost (again)

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Almost as soon as we stepped into the park at Flamingo Land yesterday, Dad and I were lost. I was pushing the wheelchair and he was holding the map, but the map didn’t seem to bare much relationship to what we saw in front of us. So we muddled along, which is what a lot of people do when they are lost.

All around us there were other people who were either lost, trying not to look lost or not lost. These three states of lostness are common in any group of people. The not lost ones are confident and feel at home. The trying not to look lost ones are doing just that. Feeling judged already, trying not to look lost is about keeping up appearances with the not lost. The lost are usually obvious: they the look at the map a lot, they enquire, they pause a lot.

Once we found the rhinos we were OK. We stayed there watching these large lumbering mammals for a bit. Although we had not been looking for them we were glad to find them. If anyone asked where we were we now knew we were ‘at the rhinos’. We admired them for quite a while in a calm and companionable way. We had moved on from being lost to being not lost. Now we just had the rest of the day to negotiate.

Today was Sunday, and with that in mind I set off on a walk around Marsh in Huddersfield. I couldn’t be lost there because I live there and have done for eight years. But I rarely go off my usual routes and most of Marsh is a mystery to me. I was making for the Co-op in a roundabout way. I decided to try to make it last and followed up any likely looking side roads or paths. The back streets of Marsh are a maze of ginnels which are a particularly Yorkshire way of helping a person in any of the three states of lostness  negotiate their way around an area. They are small passageways between houses. Some lead somewhere, some don’t. In Marsh there’s plenty of both. Two and a half miles later, a tour of the Co-op and a certain amount of time divided up between the three states of lostness and I was home again.

There was a moment when my exploring had taken me through a small wooded patch to a drop down onto the main Halifax road from a height of about four feet. Even I call tell this was proper lost. Unless you are proper lost it’s not wise to take such a leap. I retraced my steps and sure enough another path appeared that lead me out onto the same road by a safer route. See, I wasn’t lost after all.

The three states of lostness are about identity. What has been happening to me for the last two years has been about identity. When I work with the children and young people, they are often exploring their identity. It’s not all about ‘who am I?’ Sometimes it’s about ‘am I lost?’

On the Cleveland Way this summer, I was rarely lost (once on a housing estate in Skelton, but soon found again by someone who recognised my lostness and helped me to repair it). It was a well marked route, even if remote, and marked by bold, brazen signposts. There were signposts in Flamingo Land, orange ones, and sometimes they helped. Marsh is a familiar place, but it’s still possible to find yourself four foot above a busy road wondering if you are lost.

So, am I lost then?. Sometimes and it is a common state. This week young people came back to Chaplaincy to talk about matters of life and all sorts of lostness. I didn’t offer them a map or show them a ginnel. I listened and said I’d be there again if they wanted to come back. In any of the three states of lostness, companionship is usually all you can offer.

Lost?

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Alfie lost Bub while he was picking blackberries. Alfie, about, three, looked in his pocket and Bub, a rather worn comfort creature with spots on wasn’t there. I overhead this as I walked by on my way up the lane.
A few yards further on there on the path was Bub looking lonely. I picked him up and shouted to Alfie and his mum. Alfie and Bub were reunited. So was there much rejoicing? Well it’s a bit difficult to rejoice with your mouth full of blackberries. I think Bub was pleased though as he snuggled into Alfie’s pocket.
That familiar story of lost and found is familiar. It’s in our remembered bibles. As a result it crops up often and can be miss used or over used. The church often uses it to guilt trip folks back to church. The interpretation goes like this: you don’t go to church because you have lost your faith in God so come back and God will find you there and you’ll be welcomed home.
Now as one rethinking her faith identity who doesn’t currently go to church in the traditional understanding, I struggle with that. I have not lost faith in God. Jesus is still with me as promised.
As for the church; I am angry, sad and disappointed. I am not the first. Many people I meet tell me their stories and they resonate with me. But they do not always express loss of faith in God and whilst they too may be reconsidering their faith identity, many say they are Christian.
Unlike Bub these folks are not lost. But the church has lost out on their participation. There’s long been an argument that ‘you can’t be a Christian without going to church’. Now, not for the first time I am one. After all, if I had been in church I might not have found Bub.