We have had four sermons in a row on the relationship between faith and action. It's felt very much as though we are engaging seriously in the challenges the world, and Waterloo, are facing, and I am grateful to Lisa for hers on Black Lives Matter and to Wally for his on Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Last Sunday I tried to offer a theological grounding for the call to action, drawing on thework of Walter Wink, especially his book The Powers That Be. I spoke of the need to name the demons in our world, and stand against them... my sermon is here, or can be watched here. I'd be very pleased if you had time to read or watch it today, because tomorrow I'm planning to change the theme slightly and it would be good if you had this in your heads as a jumping off point!
Tomorrow worship will be online only. But we will be holding the post church picnic again in the churchyard from about 12.30. If the weather is very dreary, we'll do that, socially distanced, in church, as we did last week.
From Sunday 12th July you will be able to come and join us in church for the 9 a.m. service and the 10.30 service. Both will also be on Zoom. We will tell you more about the COVID-related adaptations to our worship during the next few days. We are also planning to keep the picnic going, as that seems to be popular.
Also tomorrow is the NHS's birthday, as I'm sure you know. Build Back Better have produced this excellent guide to action, working alongside Keep Our NHS Public. Build a cake for the NHS and tweet it! There is a virtual rally at 3pm as well.
Tomorrow's reading from the prophet Zechariah ends with the very appropriate words
Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope; today I declare that I will restore you to double.
As we continue the return to church, my prayer is that we can in every way build back better. But in that context I like this short poem by Ruth Wells which I was sent yesterday:
God snuck home.
No longer bound by the expectations of a 'consecrated' building
She's concentrated her efforts on breaking out.
Now in the comfort of a well worn dining table she shares some bread, with some friends.
And she laughs.
And she weeps.
In the sacred space of home.
With my love, as ever,