September is here, and with it brings new beginnings; a time, a concept, a feeling that I love. New beginnings bring me so much hope and motivation. I'm a firm believer that you can have a new beginning in any moment; a new week, a new month, when starting a new adventure or simply just in a new breath. 
Something happens; heartache to joy
Breathe 
A new beginning. 
But there's something about September, my birthday, and January that inspires me to challenge myself, better myself and reassess myself. 

I used to find goals and resolutions very pressurising. I'd make a list of "I will's" and "I won't's" but I'd feel disappointed with myself when I remembered the forgotten resolution, or I'd put myself on such a tightrope to achieve that I'd fall off.
When I started university last September, we were asked to complete 'Personal Development Plans' which outline our personal, ministerial, professional, academic, theological and community-related goals. My sheet was very vague and bare; two or three word answers in half of the boxes. I felt like this was a way to put myself back on that impossible tightrope, so my sheet stayed bare. A year later and I'm in a different place. Any of my tutors reading this will be pleased to know that my Personal Development Plan will be complete this year! 

Some of my goals this year
I'd like to read all of Psalm and The New Testament this year. Recently, I've been sat in a Church service when someone has read out a parable or proverb and I've thought, "wow, I didn't know that was there". 

This summer I've been able to go to lots of seminars, worship sessions and festivals that have really blessed and fed me, something I feel I haven't got a lot of in the last year. I'm reminded of the quote, "you can't pour from an empty cup" and so this year I'd like to make time to be fed spiritually, whether that's traveling to a conference, or it's watching a seminar from my laptop at home. 

​I'd like to paint more, draw more, write more, create. 

There are areas in my personal life that I'd like to not just grow in, but blossom in. Some are very little changes of habit that will be easy and simple to follow through with, but others will take a few deep breaths and 'cheerleaders' around me to even begin thinking about. 
This time, this new beginning, all goals, from simplistic to giants, are written with the peace of knowing that it's okay to have a new beginning on the first of September, and need another one on the second. 

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

I have been in my job - student youth worker of a Baptist Church - for one year today. What a joy. What a celebration.


If you’ve read my blog post, 'settled', or know me outside of the internet, you’ll know that I found the beginnings really difficult. Back in September when I’d remove myself from the office to have a private-cry in the bathroom because I just didn’t know if I could do it anymore, the idea of writing this ‘first anniversary’ blog post seemed impossible. However, I had some really good ‘cheerleaders’ around me, and a deep knowledge that this is where I’m meant to be, so this is where I’ll stay, and I’m very glad that I did.


I’ve been reflecting on the highlights and the lowlights of the past year; a difficult blog post to write because the highlights are so specific to an individual I’ve worked with, and it doesn’t feel right to use that special moment with a young person as content, and the lowlights are still slowly but surely working themselves out, and are not yet ready to be written out into something for more than just ‘the nearest and dearest’ to see. Regardless, here are the highlights of my first year, albeit sometimes a little vague.

HIGHLIGHTS

Growing in confidence
The area I most wanted to grow in over this year was confidence. I knew I was capable of leading from the stage, and meeting new young people, but I was just too scared to do it. I worried about getting it wrong so I avoided it. I think, and I hope, now when I’m doing All Age Talks from the front of Church, and I’m going into schools, I not only feel so much more confident than I did last year, but I look confident too. The best piece of advice I’ve ever been given in the youth-work-world is ‘fake it until you make it’. I’ve learnt that this doesn’t include when you feel mentally exhausted and like you’ve got to put on a happy mask, but in situations you don't feel confident, and you’re put into a new situation, fake it until you make it. Stride into it as if you know what you’re doing, and as if you’ve done it a billion times before, and eventually even you’ll start to believe it.

Youth House Group
In September I launched a Youth House Group, and I think it’s my favourite group out of the four that I’m involved in. It feels like something I’ve 'birthed', so I suppose there’s an ownership about it, but I also really have a heart for discipleship. I’m all about seeing young people experience God. To go from just a 1 in faith, to a 2, or maybe a 7 to an 8. I’m also really passionate about talking about the awkward conversations church sometimes likes to shy away from, as well as the everyday-teenager issues. I feel that Youth House Group really does this. I’m very relational and conversational in my youth work, which is the essence of Youth House Group. There are quite a few highlights of the year that comes inside Youth House Group; doing Youth Alpha, getting to know the young people better, using my creativity and passion of writing as I make the sessions.

Affirmation
A couple of months ago, one Sunday morning, we were looking at Psalm 25 with the young people and we asked them to rewrite it in a modern-day version inspired by something that means a lot to them, or something that protects them. Although arguably blasphemous (blame the resource book, not me) it brought tears to my eyes and has to be one of the highlights of this year. There's been lots of times throughout this year where I've felt really encouraged, loved and affirmed. The alternative Psalm 25 below sums up the love I've felt over the last year. 

​Toddler Group
A funny one to be on the list, since children’s work isn’t in my job title and it’s not at all my calling. I’ve learnt so much from the toddlers, from their parents, and the other volunteers. Even though the time I spend at Toddler Group each week count towards my weekly hours, it feels like a break. I come to toddler group and sit with a three year old, squeezing and rolling play-dough, and having a conversation about sequin dinosaurs.

Pilgrimage
The church I work in holds a ‘prayer space’ on the first Wednesday evening of every month, and over the last year I’ve facilitated a couple. My favourite one was based around a pilgrimage in which, around the room, we went over mountains, past a stream, through a forest and finished at a village. I was pleased with how it looked, and I was pleased that it achieved what it was meant to; enable people to reflect, rest and journey.

Girls Support Girls
As I said before, I’m passionate about the awkward conversations churches often shy away from. Awkward conversations with young people don’t phase me, and I think it’s because I wasn’t taught a lot of sex/relationship/menstruation/what-the-heck-is-happening-education, drugs, alcohol, at school or at youth groups. So, around September, I decided to make an addition to the women’s toilets, pictured below. It’s a strange highlight, but it’s something I’m proud of doing because I’m so ready to end period-poverty, and end the taboo around periods. It feels like something so massively outside of my job role, yet also something so integral to it. It’s also really funny when twelve year olds come up to me at Youth Cafe saying “guess what we’ve just found in the toilets?!” And giggly hand me a tampon, for me to say “ah you found them! Yeah I put them there!”

The lowlights

Health
Mental health wobbles made worse by not using the people around me that love me and care for me, not letting people in, overloading myself.... although, it's through these lowlights that lessons have been learnt and I've felt so incredibly wrapped up in people's love, and felt the abundance of God's grace. 

I was ill for a week in February, and being a person that rarely gets ill, it sucked. To be fair, I journaled through the week and it makes quite a comical read in hindsight.
Long story short, I drove 60 miles to uni, was almost sick in a lecture, ran out, had a lie-down on a sofa in the common room at uni whilst I decided if I was okay enough to stay, cried down the phone to a friend/work-colleauge, saying I don’t want to let anyone down and that I felt so ill. Drove 60 miles home, stopping for mints and malt loaf at a service station as it was the only thing I could stomach, slept the rest of the day. Wednesday I mainly slept, watched a bit of Netflix, and when I realised I had run out of medicine and food, I cried as I put clothes over my pyjamas. Thursday, for some reason, I thought I was well enough to go back to work. I did toddler group, cried because I felt like I had let people down and was having a bit of a crisis that Church wouldn’t have hired me if they knew my struggles. Slept all of Friday. 

Wait, what am I doing here?
This question usually hits me on a random Sunday morning service. It’s just a niggle in my brain that I need to learn to switch off. I notice that I have come alone, and that I’m sat alone, and that in an hour or so I’ll go home alone. I notice that I’m tired, and then a couple more lies creep in, just for good measure.

The highlights of the year far outweigh the lowlights. I feel like I've been Youth Worker far longer than just 1 year, in the most wonderful and positive way. 
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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 first academic year of my three-year-degree is over, and it is [almost] a year since I became a Student Youth Worker. What a year it's been. There have been struggles and triumphs, leaving people and meeting people, coming and going, celebrations and laments.

Usually at this time of year, I'm preparing to move onto something new, and I'm saying my goodbyes. In 2016, I left high school, in 2017 I left a youth work placement, and in 2018 I left a second youth placement, and Youth For Christ's gap year program, The Year Out. It feels strange that I'm not saying 'goodbye' to anyone or anything this year. It's a new feeling; I like it. 

The past year has been a season of process. I've learnt lessons from university, work placement, those around me and through scripture and spending time with God. However, I feel like there's so much more to learn. I feel that I'm learning, rather than have fully learnt. Here are a couple of those things:

1. Progress not perfection.
It's okay for something to be fine, rather than perfect. This year, I've had really good marks on my assignments; the lowest being 62% and the highest being 73%. Last term, I wasn't confident on my essay titles and, without really noticing or identifying what I was doing, I pressured myself, thinking the essays had to be perfect. I read through and read through what I had written, and it just made me think "this isn't good enough" even more, until I eventually realised that it's about progress, not perfection. Everything I do, create, make, lead, live, doesn't have to be perfect. 

2. Allow people to care.
Over the last year, and especially over the last month, I've felt so wrapped up in the arms of people's genuine care. People have supported me, opened the doors of their home to me, encouraged me, listened to me. Allowing people to care for you doesn't mean that you can't do it on your own, but sometimes it's easier, lighter, more joyful, if you pass things over to someone else.
I said to someone earlier this year, "I don't want to burden you" and they replied that they want to carry my burdens. I thought that was the most powerful and Jesus-like thing to say. 

3. Breathe
'What do you mean, you've learnt to breathe this year, Rebecca? How have you gone nineteen years without breathing?' 
When life is chaotic, sometimes I feel like I'm doing the day-to-day without breathing; without coming up for air. I do this job, tick it off the list, go there and have a meeting, make this, write that, plan a session, speak to her, cook this, clean that, walk there, meet them. Sleep. Repeat. This year I've learnt the power of coming up for air, of taking just a minute or two out to breathe. As you breathe steadily in and out, list five things you see around you, four things you physically can feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell and one thing you can taste. Breathe. 

4. I am valuable for who I am, not what I do. 
I can create the best session plan, write the best essay, lead the best all-age talk, wash up all the cups and plates at Toddler Group, be really 'on it' at Youth Cafe. But that's not where my value lies. My value lies in who I am, not what I do. 

5. There's always tomorrow, and there's always more grace.
Very few things are so urgent that they can't wait until tomorrow. If you can't get everything done today, move it to tomorrow, where there'll still be grace. If everything is going wrong, wait for tomorrow, where there will be more grace. 

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.

Mondays' are hopeful days. They're fresh starts. You can let go of the heaviness of the week before, breathe, and step forward into a new week of possibilities. 

I'm learning that it doesn't have to be a new week, a new academic year or a new calendar year to have a fresh start. 
I'm learning that if I've had a couple of bad days, I don't have to keep walking in darkness, waiting for the best time to have a fresh start. 
When everything is a bit darker, a bit heavier and takes more effort, when one thing goes wrong after the other, when I'm alone, I'm learning to breathe.
​I'm learning to stop, breathe, ask for help, and take some time out to practice mindfulness, or to create something for me, or to just simply rehydrate or go for a walk. I'm learning. 

Last week, I waked around with a rain cloud over my head for a couple of days. I could tick off all my 'warning signs of a mental health flop'. Looking back now that the sun is shining, I wonder whether, if I took a few minutes out once I realised it was raining, just by taking some time to breathe, I could have blown the cloud away. Maybe not completely, but maybe enough to see a bit of sun again.