It never seems long enough to get to know all the people you would wish to. It’s never long enough to get to know those you did as well as you should. It never seems long enough to cram in all that you would want to do with the safety net of a supervisor to hand.

I’ve said it before, but finishing up a placement is a strange time. Although the time does seem to flash past, 8 months is still a long time. It’s plenty of time to begin to get to know people’s stories; it’s plenty time to begin to build up emotional bonds with people; it’s plenty of time to really start to care for folks. So when it’s time to move on, it’s a wrench. But behind it all is the knowledge that it is only a part of the journey. Knowing that the move is inevitable means, for me anyway, that towards the end of the placement you cannot help but begin to look forward, to a place beyond the current placement. It means that when you do hit that end point you are already a little bit disconnected. It all adds to the strangeness of the whole process of formation for ministry.

What I do need to do now though is begin to think through what I’ve done, not just in this placement, but in all the others, and begin to work out what I need to focus on for probation. On this placement in particular I have felt that inexorable march towards ministry. It has been an opportunity to tick a handful more boxes on the ‘should have done’ list. It has been an opportunity to refine skills and to keep working on the ones which are still very rough round the edges. It has been an opportunity to make mistakes knowing that, as a student, some allowances are made and that there is someone there to pick up the pieces if things went drastically wrong (which they never did, I think). It has also been an opportunity to experiment and test out ways of doing things, again knowing that an experienced voice is on hand to help analyse and critique in a positive way.

Of course, all of this means that a lovely bunch of people have to put up with a lot of the ups and downs as well. The congregation have been nothing if not supportive and understanding, gracious with feedback and encouraging in their comments. Many commented today that they too couldn’t believe 8 months had passed so quickly. (Perhaps that’s a blessed relief from their perspective.)

So now there is the small matter of a dissertation to write over the summer (now watch the time really disappear) with probation starting on the 1st of September. Given the speed with which time seems to fly by at the moment, maybe it’s time to start ringing those warning bells for when I get let loose on my own.

Oh yes, and there’s the ‘Not a licensing’ Service of Recognition organised by the presbytery on the 24th of June, 7pm, Larbert East Church, where Andy and I will be given a slap on the back in acknowledgement of putting up with it all thus far.

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When you first sit down to start writing it always seems as though there’s too much whitespace to fill up. And yet, when you fill it in, you realise that there isn’t enough. Eight months is a lot of ‘stuff’; a lot of activity and reflection. Trying to encapsulate that in a couple of paragraphs is quite a challenge, especially if you don’t want to sound too glib. By the same token, when you choose something to write more fully on, you realise that words just don’t seem to do it justice. Because, if it has been worth writing about, then it has generally made a significant impact on you anyway – more than words could ever express.

So I’m not going to follow my original thought and pick out some highlights and lowlights. Rather, I simply want to mention the value of stopping every once in a while to look back. It’s not something I generally like doing. It’s not an issue of refusing to face the past, but the simple acknowledgement that it is the future we need to move forward into and so that should be the focus. There’s a question that crops up during the initial candidate enquiry process that asks if you have any regrets. That, to my mind, is an unhelpful way of ‘looking back’. I’m not suggesting we should ignore the negative or painful events of our past, but rather acknowledge that they have happened and look back at how we may have moved on from them.

So, what of looking back? If nothing else, it’s always a surprise to see just how much you have done. And it’s amazing how much we forget until someone prompts us as well. Looking back reminds us that our life is far from empty. Often it’s only with the benefit of hindsight that we see the outcomes of things that may not have seemed significant at the time. We can overlook that initial trigger – a word spoken, an opportunity taken. Conversations which seem insignificant at the time are suddenly the source of quiet satisfaction. They can also be the source we need to return to when we see them as the beginning of a fracture which needs healed. Looking back reminds us of just how much we are not creatures of the moment, but rely on our history to help us understand who and how we are.

Looking back also helps us with a sense of the bigger picture. We can (and ought to) look ‘sideways’ in the ‘now’ for that as well. That may provide breadth; but it doesn’t always provide depth. Looking back also provides a sense of ‘trajectory’. I’ve been doing a lot of reading on Emerging Church stuff for my dissertation and I sometimes get the sense that the past is too readily rejected – “it’s why we’re in the mess we’re in, so let’s wipe it out” seems to be the cry all too often. If the past is relevant, then it is only the far past that is seen as ‘authentic’; the ‘original and best’ as it were. I’ve been doing some grumping that when I’ve been reading General Assembly reports there seems to be little evidence of ‘joined up thinking.’ In a sense this is true, but generally only of you take a snapshot in time. When you look at the past, you can discern the trajectory, where ideas have influenced others and there is a seed of ‘coming together’ beginning to show.

I see the same thing in my placements – take a snapshot and you’ll generally find me on my soapbox about something. Whether it’s a theological hobby-horse or particular project, the snapshot shows a lot of unjoined-up thinking. It’s only when you see the trajectory by looking at the past that you can (I hope) discern a process of formation.

But looking back should only ever be a pause. A trajectory takes us somewhere and it is that ongoing journey that we must give our attention to. But, in so doing, we must acknowledge that it is our past which is pushing us on that path. Sometimes that pause to look back is a good time to look forward too and ask questions about whether we are being propelled by our past or whether we are still holding the semblance of a steering wheel. To borrow from finance advertising, past performance is not a guide to future returns. We still have some control over our trajectory. We may draw upon the past but we are not slaved to it. Tradition isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. The pause to look back is also an opportunity to nudge the steering as well. We can’t step away from that past, but we can allow it to inform where we steer our future. But steer we can, and should.

Time to press the play button again and start moving forward.

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I finally got the first of my research essays handed in last week. Late, but accepted, after a slight misunderstanding over due dates (and how ‘fixed’ they were). A week past Sunday I was preaching and Sunday past I was taking the entire service. So I’ve had little time to focus on reflection and even less to blog my thoughts.

I’m also in the middle of preparing the devotional slot for Wednesday’s MTN and was exceedingly grateful for the distraction of Dorothy’s blog post here which fitted very nicely with where my thoughts were headed.

But I didn’t want to witter on about how busy I am and go for the sympathy vote. I wanted to blog something that is more of a reminder to myself than a full-on, warts-and-all description and reflection.

Yesterday evening was the monthly evening service in my placement church and the theme for the evening was “Sing a new song”. It was an opportunity to learn a few new songs which would be getting done over Lent and Easter. It was in part my fault. Whenever I send a list of suggestions for hymns each week, invariably there are a few (many) which aren’t known. So it was decided that it would be a good time to expand the repertoire a little.

Let’s just say that reactions were mixed (but generally favourable) but the way the service was done was a masterclass in the art of the  ‘ gracious and gentle rebuke’. Sort of like being pummelled by a giant, soft pillow, but one that weighed a ton so that you knew when it landed on on you.

I know that hymns can be an especially emotive subject with people and I do sympathise. I have ranted about it before (can’t remember if I’ve ever blogged about it though). Communal singing is one of the few times when the congregation gets to participate directly and actively in worship and I get very annoyed when that opportunity is compromised through inaccessible hymn tunes and words or overly complex arrangements which only the trained choir can do justice to.

But anyway, there will be a few new tunes over Lent and Easter, and we may even do them several times just to be sure they stick.

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Ultimately, of course, this is all to my benefit. It’s the ‘real’ part of of ministry preparation. But I still have the academic stuff to do, although, technically speaking, I am as qualified as I need to be. Once again it’s not a lack of interest in the academic that’s a problem. I love studying theology. For me it’s the underpinning of who I am as a ‘minister’. It goes hand-in-hand with Biblical interpretation and it’s the dialogue between the two that defines my faith and its outworkings. For me, pastoral/practical theology is a result of these two things rather than being a more intimate part of the loop. Of course the pastoral and practical have to inform, or at least question, the Bible/theology ‘loop’, but it it those two which define whether our works are specifically Christian or simply philanthropic (although it’s an interesting argument over the distinction, especially if one is a Christian).

Anyway, this placement has, as placements do, brought the pastoral/practical to the fore and I’ve been busier with these than in any of my previous placements. And the encouraging thing is that as I engage more and more in these, I become more and more interested and excited and committed to them. I suppose that if you take a step back and have a more objective view, you could say that the third placement is the time of moving away from the academic and is the preparation for moving into probation and, ultimately, full-time ministry. So I guess it’s no surprise that this should be happening.

In a sense this gives the lie to the blog post title. Progress is being made in a particularly crucial aspect of my preparation for ministry. It’s just not happening in the area that I am obliged to do as well. Maybe in that there is a greater metaphor for ministry. There will be aspects of it that will excite and enthuse and these are the areas we will naturally wish to focus our energy and attention on. However, there will be areas of ‘obligation’, and they may even be areas we are interested in, but that simply don’t hold our attention as they should. Finding the motivation to do them is important to stop them piling up – they will need done sometime.

If anyone has found the answer to this, I (and the rest of the world, I suspect) would love to hear it.

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On Sunday I was leading the whole service and the choice of hymns, reading, sermon, etc was entirely mine. Over Advent we have spent a bit of time in Luke’s gospel and finished off towards the end of Luke chapter 2. I decided to pick up from that point and deal with a passage that isn’t (in my experience) covered very often – the incident of Jesus, as a boy, doing a bunk from the family group and being found in the Temple. I felt it fitted well with a Ne Year start as I believe the passage does a number of things, including giving a glimpse of Jesus’ future life, ministry and purpose but also leaving us with a challenge also very appropriate for the beginning of a new year and a new session – where would we expect to find Jesus if we went looking for Him?

OK, so that’s the background and now here’s the rant.

I received a comment that the sermon was a bit too ‘Bible-study’ and I think this harks back to the issue of story-telling. Basically, I didn’t weave much in the way of anecdotes into the sermon. Quite simply, I didn’t have any – at least none that made any contextual sense. Yes I have kids but I’ve never ‘lost’ them for several days and, quite frankly, that’s not the point of the passage. I could have spoken about the importance of being in church regularly but that would be to utterly miss the point. Precocious children? Possibly, but again, not the issue.

This passage is utterly focused on Jesus – His self-understanding, His mission and His purpose – and here is the root of my issue with stories and anecdotes. They’re not about Jesus! (Warning – rant time) I love theology. I love Biblical interpretation. My narrow-mindedness struggles to understand why others don’t love it too. I don’t need/want other stories to chew over – the ones from scripture are ‘chewy’ enough. And here’s another point – they’re not made up stories! People like hearing anecdotes because it makes things more ‘real’ for them. What!? The Bible isn’t ‘real’ enough? I think we often forget that the stories we read in scripture are real people, dealing with real situations. Even the metaphorical passages and the myths/sagas have real people behind them struggling with the real issue of making sense of God and of faith. How much more ‘real’ do you need?

I also think there’s a more subtle, insidious undercurrent to this as well. I think there is an element of “don’t explain the passage to me, just tell me what to think”. I hate doing this. I would much rather do a ‘Bible study’ approach, give people the pertinent details, point out the subtleties, the nuances, the allusions and let them start thinking for themselves (or, more importantly, begin thinking things through prayerfully and seeking the Spirit’s guidance).

OK, for this passage I simply couldn’t come up with a vaguely pertinent anecdote or personal story. Maybe that’s not an excuse and maybe my negative reaction is a defensive response to a criticism that makes me wonder if I tried hard enough during preparation. It also doesn’t mean I don’t see the value of stories – in their place.

I have also been wondering about another aspect of this. I claim to love theology and Bible study but when I deliver from the pulpit I suspect it comes across as dry and academic. I’ve spoken to people about theology and they’ve commented that they can tell I’m passionate about it. Maybe that’s part of what I need to be doing – passing on that passion.

I do think that the ‘stories’ we have in scripture are more than adequate and that they really don’t need to be augmented with lesser anecdotes. I do think that people need to be led into really thinking about them, seeing them as ‘real’ and relevant, not just as dusty history or dry theology. I was also told that my job is to ‘sell the message’. I don’t agree – the message is there for people to take to themselves in the power of the Spirit, not me. Charismatic preaching often lasts only as long as the charismatic teacher. When we learn to read and understand for ourselves we rely only on our relationship with God. We undoubtedly need others to bounce our understanding off and to provide the checks and balances for our own interpretation, but we should not be relying on others to tell us what to think.

I suppose, if nothing else, it all gives me a sense of what sort of ministry I would see myself in. But, of course, that’s not to suggest I’ll be given that luxury.

OK, rant over, for the moment. As you were.

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The timing was absolutely spot-on and I’m glad I looked up the running time of the song they wanted played part way through.

As everyone was filing out the church, the sleet and hail was coming past horizontally and it didn’t bode well for the cemetery. However, it stopped just as we arrived and held off just long enough to complete the ceremonies there.

So, in hindsight, would I do it differently at all? Probably not too much. Without the musical interlude the tribute would have needed to be a little bit longer. I probably had enough material to work with, but as I was going over it again I spotted a few gaps that I perhaps ought to have asked about. Not a problem give the slightly reduced time for the spoken tribute, but something to be aware of in future. I was also pleased to be able to accommodate the various requests of the family but made a mental note to check the lyrics of requested song tracks. Not a problem in this case, but again, something to bear in mind.

All in all I suspect this was a pretty easy introduction to funeral services.

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Anyway, it all seemed to go well enough and, despite having two video clips to show (one mine, one for the Christmas Gift Sunday appeal) there didn’t seem to be any technical gremlins. I was preaching from a favourite passage but with a completely different slant on it than previous times I’ve used it (which is why it’s a favourite, there’s always something new in it). That also helped to be more relaxed. Afterwards, at the door, there was the usual encouragement and the usual “lovely service” comments – which are frustrating, but just the way it is. However, there is a small group in the congregation who have been asked to give me more ‘honest’ and constructive feedback and it wasn’t long before I was nabbed for a ‘wee chat’.

Actually it was all good (mostly), with the interesting observation that I appeared much more relaxed and confident while I was doing the all-age talk and preaching than at other times in the service. Probably fair comment – that’s when I feel most ‘at home’ and doing what I feel called to do.

There was one comment though that got me thinking and it’s something I am aware of and struggle with to a degree – anecdotes.

I thoroughly despise ‘canned’ anecdotes. Chances are everyone has already heard them or read them on the internet months before. And, to be fair, I haven’t worked with a supervisor yet who ‘approves’ of them. But I also struggle with personal anecdotes. It’s not an issue of sharing them or exposing my soul or anything like that, it’s just that they’re my anecdotes and I don’t always see how they would be of interest to others. I’m not particularly shy or lacking in life-experience either. I also fully appreciate the value of a personal anecdote – but generally I’m thinking of someone else’s. Such personal stories help illustrate a Biblical passage; they make it more relevant; they make ‘ownership’ of the story easier.

I’m not a natural storyteller (at least I don’t think I am). I’m a ‘teacher’. I can explain and expound; I can (I hope) enthuse and illuminate; but I struggle to tell a story. I can contemporise, giving examples of where one might find a similar situation or come across a similar dilemma or moral issue. But I generally assume (or hope) that in such a process, those who are listening can begin to relate it to their own experience and not rely on mine (or my lack of it).

Students are often told of how important it is to find their own voice. How do I find my hidden story-teller?

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Today I got to participate in a funeral for the first time. It might seem odd that I haven’t done so before now but the opportunity simply hasn’t arisen (and I’ll not mention the microscopic funeral count, relatively speaking, to be ‘enjoyed’ in Brussels).

So having had the opportunity to participate in the pre-funeral visit, it was good to get the chance to play a little part in the service itself. In the liturgy used by my supervisor, there’s a brief welcome, the opening hymn, a short opening prayer, a reading and then the tribute. Thereafter, there’s another longer prayer, the ‘intimations’, closing hymn and benediction. I was down to do the short prayer and reading but with 10 minutes to go it was suggested that I might as well take it from the start to minimise the swapping back and forward.

I know some people would throw their hands up in horror and suggest that that was unfair to spring such a thing on me, but, let’s be honest – it was only a few words of welcome and announcing the hymn. If I can’t cope with that, even at short notice, then I’ve got other things to worry about.

The service went well, I thought, and there was only one verbal trip and that wasn’t mine. It was received with good grace and some amusement so perhaps it was a good reminder that, even if we do slip, the world isn’t going to come to an end.

One of the mourners was particularly emotional at the start of the service and my supervisor commented that I had done well to keep it from putting me off. To be honest, I was so focussed focused on getting my bit correct that you could have marched a band through the place and I wouldn’t have been put off. But that’s also a useful reminder. It can be easy to get so wrapped up in what we are doing that we can forget that there are others there who may need an extra word of encouragement or a little time to gather themselves. Being sensitive to that is a large part of what has to be learnt in the formation process.

So, another pre-funeral meeting tomorrow with the funeral on Friday, this time doing the latter part of the service, after the tribute. By that time I’ll practically be an expert.

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It was also good to get a warm reception from everyone – but I knew it was a friendly and welcoming place already. And my low-key visit of the previous week had confirmed that it was simply because of who I was but was a welcome that would be extended to anyone.

So, an encouraging start to a placement that is shaping up to be an excellent learning experience judging by some of the goals mapped out already.

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