I love Lent, not because of its connection with fasting and lack of chocolate, but because of its promise of new beginnings and Spring. ‘Lent’ comes from the Old English word for Spring, and the season of Lent coincides with a lean time: the winter vegetables are coming to an end, and we eagerly await the first new potatoes, beans, and asparagus. Traditionally Lent also coincides with the season of Spring cleaning. While we associate Ash Wednesday and Lent as a time of repentance, it isn’t about being guilt ridden or sorrowful. Rev Mark Clavier at St Mary’s, Brecon reminds us: ‘Lent is a season of repentance, but repentance isn’t the heavy, guilt-ridden burden we sometimes make it out to be. The Greek word metanoia, often translated as ‘repentance’ means a change of mind, a turning of the heart. It is not about wallowing in failure, but about turning back toward the love that’s never stopped pursuing us.’ It's now four months since we moved to Camberley. When we moved in, the kitchen was bright and sparkly, the windows were clean, and everything looked fresh. Four months later, we have noticed that the windows need a good clean, nooks and crannies that get missed in the general day-to-cleaning have gathered dust and dirt, and not everything looks as spick and span was it was. So, we have been Spring cleaning, emptying cupboards and reorganizing, tidying the garden, gradually returning the house to its bright, sparkly self. That is what repentance is. And is it an ongoing project, because the carpet will need hoovering, the floors, washing, the surfaces dusted and cleaned. The same goes for the chapel building. Unused rooms have been gradually cleaned and put back to use, the main kitchen has been cleaned, and the back hall is in the process of being cleaned, the toys sorted and put away and the rooms being made ready for use again. Ready for the hoped for, new birth of community building in this place. And that’s the thing about Lent and repentance. Like Spring cleaning, it involves some hard work, but with it, the promise of satisfying results. In our personal lives we can look back to see where the dust and grime of life has clouded our vision, made us a bit hard-hearted or brittle, or dampened our joy, taking our focus away from the love of God who forgives us even before we have asked. Lent is a time to look back and start to retread the path we were originally taking to abundant life. It’s a time to get rid of all the things that bind us, so that we can live in the promise of Spring and renewed life. So, when do I get my fix of chocolate to celebrate?

The Repair Shop' - A reflection Do you by any chance watch a programme called, ‘The Repair Shop’ on BBC1? It’s a gentle programme with a simple concept. People bring their cherished family items to a team of experts for restoration and repair; often objects with great meaning, sentimental and emotional attachment. A team of talented, expert and sensitive craftsmen and women from all fields then restore them with great love and sensitivity to something approaching their original look, feel and purpose. The skill of these people is amazing and part of the appeal of the show is watching them work, using tried and trusted techniques and equipment. What is more wonderful and spellbinding though is the reaction of the people who bought the item in when they see their cherished item as it was in their youth, bringing back wonderful memories and often healing and restoration of the person themselves. I haven’t seen this restoration on the programme before but there is a particular art form / craft, originally from Japan called ‘Kintsugi’. Kintsugi, also known as Kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. From something that was broken, something beautiful is reborn. The scars of brokenness visible as part of the restoration and healing. In the book of Ephesians Chapter 2 v 10, we are told that “we are God’s masterpiece.” Some versions say “workmanship.” Elsewhere, we are told that he is the potter, and we are the clay. We get a real sense that God is creative and tender as he, like a craftsman shapes us and forms us into his masterpiece; the version of ourselves that we were meant to be. Today you may not feel like a masterpiece. Your hair may be in a state of emergency. Your house may be a mess; it maybe all you can manage to undertake the necessities on a day-to-day basis. Maybe you intended to improve yourself in some way but all you have managed to do is watch reruns of old sitcoms. Nevertheless, you are God’s masterpiece simply because this is what he says we are. Life itself can damage us. Our mental health can suffer as we strive out of a sense of misplaced duty or guilt to do more than God is asking us to do, especially at this time in our lives. Emotional and spiritual wounds can run deep in our lives. We can cover up the cracks by putting on a fresh coat of paint or by gluing things together haphazardly. Running repairs that do not really work. We can put on a mask to show others the face we want them to see. To the question “how are you,” we often say fine but don’t really mean it; thinking that the one asking will think less of us if we answer honestly. We all carry wounds, we all carry baggage, we all bear scars of some sort. But remember that God is the great healer and physician, he knit us together in our mothers’ wombs; he knows us better than we know ourselves. He can repair us and restore us with tenderness and compassion and sensitivity transforming us into that person he always intended us to be; his masterpiece. We have noticed that in the ‘repair shop’ the restored items that are returned to their owners often still bear the scars of ‘war’ that have been sensitively left; as they are part of the item’s history and past. Much like the kintsugi bowl above which though showing wounds is a thing of beauty. When you think about it, Christ retained his scars in his resurrection body for all to see. Thomas was invited to put his fingers in the wounds, and it was by his wounds that Christ was recognised. The scars that Jesus kept were the scars of a wounded healer; one who has bought life, liberation and hope to us all. In a strange way the wounds which we carry bring hope to others to As we draw our thoughts and reflections together this week, please draw strength from the fact that you are God’s masterpiece. Yes, a work in progress maybe but nevertheless his masterpiece. And in those times that you feel worse than useless; not good enough; when all those negative accusing voices crowd out the sensible, sane thoughts. Then we need to hear a simple message. "Be still and know that I am God. Allow him to bring you the healing, hope and strength that you need currently. This will involve the need to do something which we are not always very good at (me included!), being still. Because he knows us better than we know ourselves and what is best for us; we need above all else to: ‘Let go and let God’ With love from Richard and Fran at Camberley Baptist Church Edited from personal Facebook post, dated 5 May 2020.

Broken and Forgotten Things. Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken cups with gold, and over recent years has become a ‘thing’, fashionable to the point where there are classes and objects are deliberately broken in order to repair in that style. The Repair Shop restores other broken things…guitars, shoes, soft toys, paintings, gates, clocks etc. Each item has a story and despite being broken is still cherished by the owners who long to see the beloved item restored to its former glory. But what about the broken things are forgotten? Coming into a ‘new’ church as ministers has given us permission to explore the buildings, find hidden corners, give everything a clean. There in the back of a cupboard were the remains of the old communion set; a large wine jug inscribed with the name of the church and the date (1894), old communion plates, and a chalice, or rather half a chalice. The cup was in one cupboard, the stem in another. As Baptists, like many non-conformists, small individual glasses are used for communion. This was because of the influenza pandemic of 1918, combined with the post WW1 availability of cheap glass. It was seen as being more hygienic than the congregation sharing one cup. (In the Welsh Valleys, with the production of cheap tin and steel, tiny plates were used, each one sitting on top of the small glass and holding a perfectly cut slice of bread, so that no one would needlessly touch the bread.) So, the symbolism of drinking from one cup, (and eating from one loaf), was consigned to non-conformist history, rather like the chalice found at the back of the cupboard. Our communion cup is unusable, although the metal has deteriorated so that it would not be safe to drink from, in its current state it could not even act as a symbol of our collective unity as a church. Camberley is fortunate to have a monthly volunteer repair café, so we took our broken chalice along to see if anyone would be able to fix it. The volunteers were fascinated to find something that belongs to Camberley’s heritage, the chapel is one of the oldest buildings and institutions in the town. In many ways the broken chalice is symbolic of a church that people have forgotten, many people didn’t know where the Baptist church was. However, the volunteers did sterling work straightening the dented stem, allowing the two halves to meet together. Unfortunately, we were not able to solder the pieces together, but with some ingenuity the cup has been attached to the stem using a wine cork, so that the cup can stand up at least. The handles are too delicate to be used to hold the cup, and the inside of the cup is rusted, but over Christmas the cup stood on the communion table filled with holly and evergreens, symbolizing our Christian hope of eternal life in the depths of winter. Often as small churches we might feel broken and forgotten, we are unable to continue the many activities we remember doing, either because of lack of resources or simply because we lack the people, finances, or energy to do so. As individuals we might feel the same way, particularly as we age and physically cannot do the things we did when much younger. But God has not consigned us to a forgotten cupboard, leaving us in pieces or unusable. Instead God takes the shattered pieces of our brokenness and remakes us, giving us a new purpose, a new way of being. Just as the communion cup is no longer usable for drinking, it still stands as a symbol of the church’s togetherness, with each other and Christ. It still speaks of faithfulness, pointing to the history of the church and the hope for the future. Our small churches do the same thing, symbolizing God’s actions in a community and the faithfulness of the community. As individuals we carry the same message; we carry the stories of God’s faithfulness and healing and seek to bring those stories to a new generation, speaking into the future of the community. The people of Israel had lived in exile for many years, separated from their land and heritage by the might of the Babylonian empire. They felt broken and forgotten. Into their suffering Isaiah spoke: ‘Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hid from the LORD and my right is disregarded by my God”? Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.’ (Is 40:27-28) And later he says: ‘Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?’ Sometimes we have to wait in the darkness until God opens the door and brings healing and a new purpose to our lives, but we are not kept waiting forever. For the exiles in Babylon their wait may have seemed like eternity, but they were not forgotten by God, and neither are we. God brought them out of exile, repaired them and although they were never the same as they were before the armies of Babylon invaded and took them away, they were restored, made anew and given a new purpose. The same goes for us. We are not forgotten, we will not be left broken and useless, but given a new commission and purpose as we are healed by God.

Advent 3 It was a long coming. A hope extending through generations. Ebbing and flowing, like the tide, clawing at the sands of time. Waiting. The waiting was long. Silent signals: signs of the times and seasons, something growing, the verge of a promise, a hidden mystery. Waiting. In the darkness a flame flickered, a taper. More smoke than fire. Prayers, like incense, words, like oil, Holy Breath: all kindling the secret spark. Silently, the night stirs, stars take their cues in creation’s welcome dance. Fields, filled with shepherds, receive heavenly hosts. For one moment, in one place, Good News overflows with the promise of peace on earth … Unnoticed, amongst the lowly lowing of cattle and the timid bleating of a lamb. Within the cramped confines of flesh and bone, Deity dwells in human form. Emmanuel: God with us. And now it is He who waits … Graham Oakes - Blackwood Baptist Church