They say that comparison is the thief of joy. Boy, are they right.

There are more people than I can count on my fingers that are making announcements recently, whether they’re close friends, mutual friends, or influencers I follow online. Announcements of pregnancies, engagements, new house, new job, book publication, or the launch of a massive conference or project fill my timeline. And in comes that small but mighty voice that says, “and what are you doing?”
“The same old” I reply
The voice needn’t reply; I’m already deep in the pool of comparison, thinking everybody is doing something new and exciting and I’m just watching it happen.


When I finally put my perspective goggles on, I see that actually I’ve already done a lot of traveling. I went on three mission trip before the age of 16, one of which was by myself. I’ve already done my GCSEs and A-Levels, and I’m already in Year 2 of Uni. I’ve already learnt to drive. I’ve already left home and I’ve already got a ‘new job’, which just so happens to be the one I’ve wanted since I was 15.
And I’m not yet twenty.


Without perspective goggles, being in a season of no announcements can be difficult, especially in a digital age. Nobody goes on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter to say, “I have no news!” People post the highlights; the holidays, the productive work-meeting, the massive youth conference, the parties. 
You very rarely see Christians who have a large online following tweet, “I led a small group tonight. Hardly anyone came and nothing happened. I’m not sure what message anyone went home with. Clearing up the mess left now, but God is still good”. No, what you see is, “I led a brilliant small group tonight! More people than we’ve ever had with such an inspiring, life-changing, powerful message. Can’t wait for next week!”
When I ask youth leaders how things are going, they often respond with statistics of how many young people came to faith at their last big gathering. I’m the same; when people ask how the drop-in youth cafe I lead is going, my answers are statistics, not adjectives. I tell them how many young people we have coming now and I tell them about how many are now coming to Church from this youth cafe.




I wonder whether Jesus would have social media, and if He would, what he would post. In many stories we read in The Bible, Jesus actually tells people not to share the story of what just happened (Luke 8:56, Matthew 16:20, Mark 7:36). I think that if He did post, his statuses would reflect the Father.

The Bible is full of great stories of breakthrough and miracles, that nowadays would make perfect Instagram captions. But the Bible doesn’t tell you every second of every day of the ‘big characters’. So much of Joseph’s life, and Moses’s and Elijah’s and even Jesus’s life is missing from the Bible. I don’t think every day was an announcement day. Perhaps there were some days that they or we would read as monotonous. Days of just walking, days of warning people of the same prophecy with no breakthrough, days of studying, days of fishing, days of manual work.
In a season of no announcements, God is no less powerful or at work.
​A season of no announcements is not a signal to put down tools and find something else to do. A season of no announcements may actually be the opposite.


A friend sent me this quote recently, and I feel it sums up a season of no announcements perfectly.

This week I went to my sixth Soul Survivor. I picked my friend up at 6:50am and we began our 115 mile journey up to Peterborough, arriving in good timing at 9:10! The roads were kind to us! We wanted to make the most of being at Soul Survivor, as we were only there for the day, so once we picked up our wristbands, we headed to a seminar titled ‘Overcoming Failure and Disappointment’. Throughout the rest of the day, we went to two other seminars; ‘Holy Disruption’ which was about looking after the planet, and ‘Life According to Love Island’, which was about sex and relationships. We ate yummy food from the Food Stalls, got rained on a couple of times, bought Soul Survivor merchandise, caught up with friends we saw along the way, and went to the Big Top for worship and the main talks.


In the evening main meeting, I began typing on my notes. My friend asked me if I’m writing a blog post, and I replied, “maybe, I just can’t get the words out”. She asked what I had so far, and I read out “old songs, new songs, big top, same God”. I had something stirring in my mind that I wanted to get down, it just took me a while to figure out what that was. Eventually, between getting up on our feet to do the Macarena with ten thousand others - much to my friend’s dismay - and loudly singing along to ‘Baby’ by Justin Bieber, I got there.


A lot has changed since the first time I went, when I was just 13. To start with, we’re in a different part of the country, in a different Big Top, surrounded by different people, singing different worship songs. ‘Freedom Generation’ and ‘God’s Great Dance Floor’ have been replaced by ‘Raise a Hallelujah’ and ‘What a Beautiful Name’.
When I first arrived at Soul Survivor, and for many times after, I was so lost. I was in so much pain, really struggling with my mental health. I don’t know how many times my Youth Minister had me crying on her through ministry time! Through those painful times in The Big Top, I’ve met God. The most memorable time was when Justin Welby, the Arch Bishop of Canterbury was on stage and he said, “there are some young people in here tonight that need to know that they are precious. That is your name”. I’m sure this spoke to many people there that night, but for me, the significance lies in that my youth minister had just written and drawn the exact same thing in my journal not a few seconds before he said it. “He calls you precious, that is your name”.


Over the years, I’ve made close friends, and laughed so much with them that it hurt. One year, me and six other girls my age shared a tent. We decided it would be more fun if we didn’t use the pods provided, because we’d be closer, even though the youth leaders warned us we’d be cold. We were very cold, but we couldn’t have youth leaders being right, so we slept close together under our fairy lights from home, freezing cold, for four nights. We laughed until the youth leaders got tired of telling us to be quiet (and maybe for a little bit after that), we sang “last request” at midnight (I don’t know why…), we cried together, and came up with so many inside jokes that I don’t really fully understand to this day.


One year, my first year as a leader, I cooked for 18 people! Never again! I applaud anyone who caters at Soul Survivor. I’m not sure there was one night that I didn’t forget to add a main ingredient, or planned the timings well. Thank you Jesus for supportive and encouraging colleagues and line managers!


I look back at all the memories - too many to share in one blog post - and I see a theme running throughout: God’s faithfulness.
So much has changed about Soul Survivor. Throughout the months between each festival, I’ve changed too. The first time I went, I was just about to go into Year 9. The final year I went, I’m doing my dream job, about to go into second year of university! I still struggle, but unlike the first time I visited Soul Survivor, I have a cheerleading team around me that know, and that help me rise again. The things I grappled with at thirteen are the things I’m still working through now. Friendship circles, interests, and where I live have changed! So much has changed, but God hasn’t. Through the highs and lows of Soul Survivor and everything in between, He is the same. Yesterday, today and forever. He was there every time I cried until my eyes felt like sandpaper. He was there every time I jumped and danced with joy. He was there as I was led and discipled, and as I led and discipled other youth people. He was there when I broke my toe (another story for another day), when my friends and I sung and giggled in a tent, when we ate, when we served, when we worshipped, and for the few hours per night that we were quiet and slept. When  I stood in the Big Top for the final time on Monday, I worshipped the same God as when I first stood in the Big Top in Shepton Mallet all those years ago. Different songs, different place, same God.
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​The candles were lit, the fairy lights were strung, acoustic worship was being sung. I stood amongst friends, amongst friends of friends, and amongst brothers and sisters in Christ, in one of the oldest Church buildings in the City.

As we sung “so I’ll stand, with arms high and heart abandoned”, I could feel tears start to gather in my eyes, and was really honest with God that I have nothing else to try, nothing else to give. I prayed, “I wish I could just stay here, in your house of love and safety and grace”.

Then I was convicted by God in a way I don’t think I ever have been before.
It’s funny, isn’t it, that when we pray for patience, God gives us the opportunity to be patient with someone and it’s difficult. Or we pray for provision but then God gives us the option to use that £5 we found on the floor for a coffee on the way to work for ourselves, or for the homeless we just passed. Or we pray for God to make us more like Him & to convict us, but when He does… ouch.

Firmly, yet with such peace, I felt God say, “I invite you to dwell in my house of love and safety and grace, but you always leave kicking and screaming”.

Ouch.

After we sat to listen to a short sermon, we sang some more. As we were singing the lyrics, “'Cause Your goodness is running after, it's running after me, with my life laid down, I'm surrendered now, I give You everything”

I felt God continue, “… but I’m never going to stop running after you to bring you home”.


Wow.

I love that we have a God that convicts, not condemns. It’s a bit like a father teaching his child to ride a bike. When the child falls off, the dad doesn’t say, “why can’t you get this right? I’ve taught you, now do it!” ​It won’t matter if the child keeps falling off the bike. It won’t matter if the child never gets it. The father won’t lose his temper and eventually snap. The father won’t lose hope and say, “you’ll never get it, let’s just give up” and walk off for you to wipe the tears away yourself.
But he scoops the child up, wipes away any tears, puts the child back on the bike and says, “It’s okay, let’s try again together. You got it wrong, but that doesn’t change my love for you”.

I had an image that night of a daughter being picked up by her dad, but she doesn’t want to be picked up. She’s kicking, punching and screaming to be put down. She doesn’t know that in her dad’s arms is where she needs to be, in the arms of safety and love.
I love that we have a God that will never stop running after us, never stop pursuing us and taking us home. You can scream, kick, punch, run, cry. He’ll always come after you. 

He is not a God of condemnation, but a God of conviction and love. 

One Sunday morning, I observed the empty first two pews at Church. There were about 40 people in the congregation that morning, all of whom had chosen to sit somewhere else other than the front two pews. It made me wonder why, and it made me examine myself as to why I don’t either.


I did research the way that all good researchers get information - I put two questions out on instagram stories and twitter. Firstly, ‘do you sit on the front row of Church?’ and secondly, ‘why/why not?’. The majority answer to the first question was "no", here are a couple of reasons why not.

Fear of Being Watched
Many people replied “because I feel like everyone’s looking at me”.
If you get your phone out, to write notes or otherwise, everyone can see you. If you fidget, everyone can see you. If you’re not doing the actions to Our God is a Great Big God, or if you’re doing them half-heartedly by not reaching up high at ‘higher than a sky-scraper’ and doing a limbo at ‘and he’s deeper than a submarine’, then everyone can see you. Or worse, if you are going full Doug Horley during the actions, every one can see you. If you fall asleep… everyone can see you! But isn't it interesting that for many people, Church is a place that they feel looked at, judged perhaps, inconspicuous... 
Not only did the responders feel like they were being watched by the people behind them, but the preacher too. I can’t speak for everyone who’s ever led from the front, but generally, if I make eye contact with you, I haven’t processed who you are or what you’re doing, with a couple of exceptions. The first exception is that if, for example, the majority of people were on their phone, then my brain would probably clock that. Or if the majority of people were talking to one another, my brain would probably clock that too. The second exception is that there are one or two people I’ll look at in the congregation because I know they’ll be smiling back at me or nodding along. If you’re not one of those few people I look out to for a push of support, and you and other people around you aren't doing anything distracting  not doing anything, then I more than likely won’t notice, and I mean that with love. My brain just doesn’t clock it, I’m thinking of what I’m saying next, or the props that I’m using, or that I need to remember to finish with a prayer.

Fear of sitting in the seats of the superior
Many people seem to think that the front row is reserved for the preacher, the leader, the worship team, anyone who steps up onto stage. Many people seem to think that sitting on the front row means sitting in the seats of the superior.
I hate to break it to you, but that’s not how the Kingdom of God works. There is no hierarchy system with God. He doesn’t tell people to form an orderly queue with the people in leadership at the front, and the women and children at the back. Remember, Jesus healed the woman with the haemorrhage, Jairus's daughter (Jairus was a leader of a synagogue) and a Centurions slave. 
By sitting at the front, you’re not stealing the seats of the superior, because they aren’t ‘superior’. Sure, they are serving that morning and have a responsibility, spiritually as well as physically, but they are not more worthy of experiencing God than you are - “for all have fallen short on the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) They’re probably just sitting there because it’s easier and faster to get up on stage from the front. Also, I don’t know about the shape and size of your church, but there’s plenty of space for all of the leadership team plus a few families on the front two pews of my church.

Fear of Changing the Culture
As a young person, my friends and I would always sit on the very back row. Nobody else dared to sit there, because it was ’The Youth Row’. You knew you were no longer a child anymore when you got to sit on The Youth Row.
I’ve observed that many Churches have these cultures. For example, the Youth sit on the back row, the students all group together on the third row, the parents with babies sit on the other side of the back row so they can get out of the room easily, but not be confused with The Young People.
In the responses I got, I think there’s a fear in changing the culture of the group you belong to, or the culture of the church. It seems that if your people group - family, child, teen, young adult, student, elderly, single - never sit on the front row, why would you sit somewhere else? Especially in the place that nobody sits?
I often fear raising my hands in worship. It’s silly really, I know that, but it just isn’t the culture of my Church. I would be perfectly comfortable jumping, dancing, raising my arms in worship, but only if everyone else around me is doing the same. I have been known to go right to the back of church when a song that I really feel the Spirit moving in, and I can move around and lift my hands, because I feel more comfortable at the back, where nobody can see me. This links to fear of changing the culture, and fear of being watched. If I won’t raise my hand in worship whilst sitting on the forth row on the side - my usual space - you can bet I won’t be doing it on the first. But perhaps I should. Perhaps it would encourage other people to let go in worship if I were standing at the front with ‘arms high and heart abandoned’.
On a sillier note, I recently showed my young people a comedy video, in which a man names different hand-raises, and now, in worship, they’ll make notes of what action people are doing and tell me “I saw the village people action!”

I understand that many people are far more comfortable sat where they are, not at the front...  I am one of those people! Perhaps you have a baby and you’d feel more comfortable knowing that you can dash out if they start crying. But know that there’s space for you at the front if and when you feel comfortable to move. Perhaps you have anxiety. I don’t mean that you, like most of the congregation, are a bit nervous about it, but I mean that just the thought of being at the front makes your palms sweaty and your legs stiff, and breathing faster. But know that there’s space for you at the front if and when you feel comfortable to move there.


As I challenge myself, I challenge you this Sunday to sit on the front row of Church. Face the fear of being watched, because realistically, nobody is. Face the fear of siting in the seats of the superior, because realistically, that’s not how the Kingdom of God works. Face the fear of changing the culture. Drag a friend along with you, sit at the front, raise your hands if that’s how you engage in worship, have a party when Our God is A great Big God is sung, fidget to your hearts content.




If after this blog post you need some counteractive arguments, or some satire, check out this list of 9 reasons not to sit in the front row http://aprilfiet.com/my-thoughts/10-reasons-sit-front-pew-church

As I was having a worship session one evening in my flat, three songs played after each other, and I noticed a common link between them. The three songs were Majesty, Come As You Are and Here I am to Worship. Below are the verses that have the link, see if you can spot it.

The title of this blog may have been a give away, but the link between these three songs is that they all talk about coming to God just as you are. Majesty says, “here I am, knowing I’m a sinful man”. 'Come as You Are' tells us wanderers to “come home”, laying down burdens, shame, hurt and our hearts, to come as we are. ‘Come Now is the time to worship’ repeats “just as you are before your God, come”.


There are verses in the Bible that back up these lyrics too.
Matthew 11:28 says, “come to me, all who are weary and I will give you rest”. The verse doesn’t read, “be alert and perfect, or at least put on a smile and then make your way to me”.


John 6:27 doesn’t say, “come to me, but if you’re not good enough I’ll send you away”, but instead tells us, “everyone whom the Father gives me will come to me and the one who comes to me I will never send away”


In John 4, Jesus talks to the woman at the well who has had five husbands, and the man she is living with is not her husband either. Yet Jesus still invites her to come and have a drink from the everlasting waters, so that she’ll never be thirsty again. Jesus doesn’t tell her to go away and sort her life out, come back when she’s done and then maybe He’ll offer everlasting life, as long as she promises to keep up the good work. Jesus sits with her just as she is; meeting her where she’s at.

I saw a video earlier in the week of a friend’s baby who is just learning to crawl. Someone in the video is holding a toy, shaking it to get the attention of the baby, but slowly moves away as the baby gets closer and closer, encouraging her to crawl that bit more. Thankfully, Jesus is nothing like that. He doesn’t wave goodness and blessings and comfort and love at us, but then as we get closer to him, he slowly moves away making us crawl even further than we’ve already come.

The words below are the lyrics to Hillsong's 'Never Alone'. I hope they bring light to you, I hope they speak truth over the lies that you're alone. 

I went to a barbecue this week with friends. It rained, of course it did, it’s British summer time, but that didn’t stop us from having a really great time. After we had all eaten, there was a small huddle of friends sat by the chiminea, toasting marshmallows. There was a bigger huddle around a small table, laughing as they played Bananagrams. Not taking part in either of the huddles, I stood to take it all in, and smiled.
By then end of the evening, there were twelve of us around a table that seats six, all playing Bananagrams, laughing, joking and definitely not cheating…
The evening had a community-feel to it, and I felt so content. It got me thinking about contentment, relationship and community. 

To be content has been my prayer recently. I’m not asking to be joyful everyday, but to be content with what I have, with where I am, and when the rain comes - literally and metaphorically.

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I think I’m most content when I have company, when I’m in community. I’m beginning to learn more and more that I’m such a relational person, I’m an extroverted-introvert. Although my ‘batteries are recharged’ by spending a couple of hours on my own, gathering my thoughts and resting, I’d rather be spending all the other hours with people. I don’t mind if we go out and do something, or we just ‘do life’ together, but I’m too relational to spend too much time alone.
About a month ago, I went to a colleague/friend’s house because I needed help with preparations for a Youth weekend away in the Summer. I ended up staying for the whole morning, and for lunch too - not working, but just chatting and 'being'. It was half-term, and it was one of the best days of the break. We didn’t really do anything, but just doing life another person brings me joy.


I think that’s the way that God made us to be: relational. We are relational beings because we are made in His image and He is relational. A perfect example of this is the trinity - the three persons of the trinity live in perfect relationship with one another.


God said it Himself, “it is not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18). We often read this when preaching about singleness and marriage, but I think it’s just as an important message when it comes to community with one another. It is not good for us to be alone. We were made to be in relationship with one another. So let’s do it more often!


It’s a denominational stereotypical joke that Baptists are good at ‘Bring and Shares’. The Church I worship and work at regularly hold Bring and Share lunches, and there’s always plenty of food! I like to think that it’s not just food we’re bringing and sharing, it’s ourselves. It’s our heaviness and our joy. If you’ve read my blog post ‘Settled’, you’ll know that it wasn’t easy for me to find my feet. But I never feel as at home and part of a community, part of a family, more than when we all sit around tables to eat lunch with one another.

In church, we often refer to ‘mountain top moments’ and ‘being in the valley’. If you’re not familiar with this language, being on the mountain top means to be having a really good experience. Perhaps you’re at a summer conference; the sun is shining, the worship is great, you feel the Holy Spirit in every seminar, you have a notebook full of notes from the talk, you’ve bought a load of books that you’re so excited to read, you think, “ah, this is so much better than what’s at home”.  You’re having a mountain top moment.
Being in the valley is the opposite. You can still experience God in the valley, but everything is darker, heavier and harder. Perhaps everything is going wrong, one thing after another, and although you know God is there, you don’t understand what He’s doing and that’s painful.

I think there’s a third ‘place’. I think this third place is one we’re most often at, but gets recognised and appreciated a lot less. This third place is ‘the path of the mundane’. It isn’t the spirit-filled youth event with lots of young people giving their lives to Jesus, but it’s also not when you’re running a youth event that has one problem after another, you’re burning out and can’t see God in the project anymore. The path isn’t always easy, sometimes it’s a bit rocky, a bit steep, sometimes there isn’t enough shade or it rains, but it’s fine. It’s the mundane. It’s the youth group that happens every week that you don’t see anything happening in. That’s not to say nothing is happening, or that it’s going badly, you’re just not seeing it. Or it’s the sermon you give, and you don’t get any response from it. Or it’s just your commute to work, your tidying, your preparing.

I wanted to be a youth worker since I was fourteen years old. I remember the day that I voiced this, and class-mates telling me that it wasn’t a proper job. When I imagined being a youth worker, it included the big events, constant conversation with young people and constantly seeing growth and change. It included only mountain-top moments. I never imagined making 4 mugs of hot chocolate every Sunday evening, or sitting at my desk trying to work out how to print on labels for an entire hour, (and then still getting it wrong). I didn’t imagine finishing youth at 9:30pm and then packing away for a further 45 minutes. None of this stuff is bad or unenjoyable. Okay, maybe the label-printing-mishap was unenjoyable. But it's just the mundane. I didn’t imagine God being in my mundane, because I didn’t imagine having a mundane.

There is so much beauty and so many blessings to be had on the path of the mundane, but it’s like we’re always focusing on the mountain top, desperate not to find ourselves in the valley, that we forget to appreciate the beauty and blessings.
I challenge you to write down three mundane blessings per day for the next week. Found a bargain in wilko? Had lunch out with a friend? Made a nice dinner? Slept well? Checked everything off your to-do list? Had a couple of regulars at your youth group? Had a word that might have been from God? Shared a sermon, made a little mistake, but all-in-all, it went alright? Write it down, recognise it and be thankful.

Imagine this:
You’re walking along on a path. It looks a bit like this:

Above you is the mountain top experience.
Below you is the valley
You’re walking along but your hands are covering your eyes so that you can't see. Little do you know, there are flowers growing out of the rocks beside you. There’s an army of ants working together, carrying leaves so much bigger than they are, just passing you now. The sun has just come out from the clouds. It’s a little steep and there's a big pile of rocks to stumble over, but it’ll get easier soon. Your friend has joined you and put their hand out with a cup of water and a chocolate biscuit. Oh look, a beautiful, big bird has just flown past!

But you’ve got your eyes closed, worried about being back in the valley and expecting the mountain top, that you’ve missed the blessings on the path of the mundane.