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Marc writes:

I found this one whilst planning an Act of Worship for a Secondary School… on “Resilience” believe it or not…

Resilience isn’t mentioned in the Bible. I tried to find a Greek word as to what it means so that I could check in the geeky apps and things I use to make sure.

The word that came back was this one… ελαστικότητα (Elastikótita)
However you pronounce it, that first bit is where we get our word “Elastic” (I could tell that without looking it up)

So what have I learned?

Let’s think about Elastic vs Plastic…

Both can be moulded and shaped by the world around them.

Plastic tends to need heat and energy in order to make it take shape, and then when you take the heat away it will stay the shape that it has been moulded to. You can often re-apply heat to a plastic shape and then re-shape it again, but the more you heat and cool it, the more brittle it becomes in its set state. The more likely it is to break.

Elastic moves with the input of energy; it changes shape, changes tension and adapts, but always returns to where it was before. It’s kind of like Elastic Man.

​Plastic things need certainty and consistency after being moulded in order to maintain their form and not get weakened and brittle, elastic things get brittle when they’re not used. If they’re not regularly flexed, or are left too long in a stretched position, then they become brittle and snap.

Anyway, resilience is about this whole “elastic” thing…

So where does it feature in the Bible? Directly? Nowhere. Resilience isn’t a word used in the bible in English, Greek, or Hebrew.

And in the way that I’ve heard Christianity talked about lots in the past, I have often wondered whether the concept of it is even there. The “similar” words that sometimes get used to replace resilience in the Bible are perseverance… endurance… long-suffering… tolerance. They don’t quite cut it for me.

They imply being rigid, immobile, standing against and putting up with things. Letting them bounce off you like they aren’t really things.

That’s not to say that a better “elastic” idea of resilience isn’t in the Bible. I think it is, in stories and even in what God calls people to be, but I think it’s uncomfortable and ignored.

The closest I can get to what I think resilience is is in 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 –
“We are under all kinds of pressure, but we are not crushed completely; we are at a loss, but not at our wits’ end;  we are persecuted, but not abandoned; we are cast down, but not destroyed.”

To me, this is about resilience because it’s not trying to deny the difficulty, but to allow for flexibility in line with the tension.

I think for me there are 4 key steps to being resilient:

Step 1: Don’t pretend everything is ok.
Don’t try and be immovable plastic. That never ends well. Allow for hurt and for flow. For pressure and change.

Step 2: Have faith in your capacity to stretch.
You got this. Yes, it’s difficult, but you, with the support of others can weather the storm. Resilience is about trusting that you will not snap with added pressure and tension.

Step 3: Be confident* that you can bounce back (*That’s my definition of Hope)
Just like elastic, being stretched isn’t a permanent design. It might last a little while, but your body, brain, spirit and soul know deep down how your life is supposed to be. It is doing its job when it is stretched, but it is also doing its job when it returns to form. Listen to your body, in line with your mind, soul and spirit.

Step 4: Know, grow, and show Love
If you can identify love, friends, divinity and family, then you are already well on your way to resilience.

​But why these four steps? 1 Corinthians 13:13 says

“Three things will last forever–
faith, hope, and love–
and the greatest of these is love.”

Ultimately resilience isn’t something you do on your own. It’s a together thing. A family thing. A community thing.

Find out about Katy Perry at katyperry.com

Jane writes:

Oh how very real this seems sometimes. Just a song title describing exactly what’s going on inside your head. I came across it on one of those walks with the earphones planted firmly in my ears providing the perfect chance to discover new music amidst old favourites.

This is a song that comes with both a fabulously distinctive voice, spare sound and a certain kind of lament. Then it does the thing I love most. Builds and builds and builds. It’s a song aware of its own shape and style which brings a
desire not to lose it in the multitude of choices provided by modern-day music listening.

I’ve been tired since 1994.

I don’t feel like this all the time of course but there are some days when you feel that there’s a relentlessness to life, the universe and everything, and with good reason. I suspect too that for some people life is a treadmill and that there is no possibility for proper respite.

The pace of working life caused by the gig economy and the desire for 24/7 retail and service. The need to be up when the rest of the world is awake. The unseen carers holding down jobs and looking after loved ones so they can sleep but unable then to get any rest themselves. The support services in hospitals, care homes and other “round the clock” care providers. It’s a list that you could probably extend yourself.

I can’t remember how it feels to be bored.
I’m still dancing with pressure and fear.
And made from myself,
There’s nothing I wish but to disappear.

The lyricist suggests that sometimes the anxiety and the pressure is of their own making. Maybe even their own choosing. Whatever is going on for them is, in their view, turning them into a faded flower and they’ve had enough.

I’m starting to fade away,
I’m too young to fade away,
No I just can’t fade away !

Research says that the good old “me time” is of increasing value and that the importance of finding some way to exploit what gives you life is the key to improved mental and physical health. Burnout is now a word we hear in
many more professions and our communities of faith are no different.

In fact, Sanctuary Mental Health says that “One in four people will be affected by a mental health challenge at some point in their lives, yet the stigma surrounding these experiences often prevents faith communities from responding compassionately and effectively.”

In the stories that humankind shared about their origins, there is one that tells of a set of guidelines for life. Christians know it as the Ten Commandments and among them there is one that says this:

“8-11 Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Work six days and do everything you need to do. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to God, your God. Don’t do any work—not you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your servant, nor your maid, nor your animals, not even the foreign guest visiting in your town. For in six days God made Heaven, Earth, and sea, and everything in them; he rested on the seventh day. Therefore God blessed the Sabbath day; he set it apart as a holy day”

Finding time to value yourself, those you love and keeping at least one day precious is a story as old as time. It seems that it’s not easy and for people of faith it gets tangled with their duty towards church attendance but God sees how critical it is to rest. To keep something holy. Kadosh. Kodesh. Set apart for a specific purpose.

The world does too. So whether it’s the weekend or a random half day somewhere let these words from Last Train inspire you to release the pressure – or help someone else to – and take the rest option. Walk up a hill, paint a
picture, read a book, dance with a loved one, or sit silently. The choices are yours.

You can find out more about Last Train here https://www.lasttrain.fr/home/

And Sanctuary Mental Health here https://sanctuarymentalhealth.org/uk/#

Gill writes:

My 17-year old self might look upon the life her middle-aged self is experiencing and say ‘Well, who knew that life in the 21st Century could feel like you’re living in 1984.’ And by ‘1984’, I obviously mean the book by George Orwell that 17-year old Gill kind of enjoyed at ‘A’ Level but was a bit too immature to quite grasp the politics, social commentary and let’s face it, prophetic visions, that Orwell described.

It feels to me that week by week, month by month, year by year, Orwell’s novel makes more and more sense, and disturbingly, elements of it feel more real too. Take this week, for example, when more than one public figure has used words and said things that have disturbed, angered, and provoked. I am sure I can sense that they are manipulating and dividing people by the words that they are choosing to use.

“But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.” said George Orwell.

Words can be used as weapons. They can also be used to bring people together. To fire people up. To motivate. To manipulate. To show love. To share hate. They can sow seeds of thought that impact positively and negatively. A homophobic attitude might be cloaked in language that comes across as legitimate; a comment about whether a woman is the sort you’d chat up in a bar or a statements in official government documents labelling people with the ‘N’ word. The use of such words and language by public figures and places give permission for them to be used in everyday life to oppress, denigrate and degrade our neighbours, friends and family.

Words like violence
Break the silence
Come crashing in
Into my little world
Painful to me
Pierce right through me
Can’t you understand?

‘Enjoy The Silence’ is one of the most popular songs by Depeche Mode (it was voted Best British Single in the 1991 Brit Awards) and it reminds us about the damage that words can do. Even when we love people, there are times when we can’t stop ourselves sniping, gossiping, talking behind their backs or responding passive-aggressively (just a few examples).

No wonder the narrator of the song prefers to sit and hold their beloved in their arms, in silence. Letting the moment calm them, reassure them and dwell in the feelings of love. If we enjoy the silence, we can feel safe in the space that words – even well-intentioned ones- are not going to come in and disrupt.

Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial
Pleasures remain
So does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable

The Epistle of James has quite a bit to say about the use of words. We’re confronted by the image that the tongue can be like the spark of a fire that leads to the devastation of a forest. Just one small word can lead to destruction.

I find this in my work as a Place for Hope Practitioner. Place for Hope is a charity that ‘accompanies and equips people and faith communities so that all might reach their potential to be peacemakers who navigate conflict well’. What you often find at the heart of a conflict or challenging situation is a conversation or an exchange of words that was the catalyst that has reeked havoc through a community or into a relationship.

The founder of Methodism, John Wesley, also had thoughts on the words that we utter. He wrote quite clearly about the expectations of what a Methodist should be like. These thoughts should apply not just to Methodists but to anyone who is a Jesus Follower. Here’s what he says:

“He cannot speak evil of his neighbour no more than he can lie, either for God or man. He cannot utter an unkind word of any one; for love keeps the door of his lips. He cannot speak idle words. No corrupt communication ever comes out of his mouth, as is all that which is not good, to the use of edifying, not fit to minister grace to the hearers. But whatsover things, are pure, whatsover things are lovely, whatsoever things are justly of good report, he thinks and speaks, and acts, adorning the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ in all things.” (The Character of a Methodist by John Wesley)

It’s a challenge isn’t it. We love to talk and natter. We love a good craic. What we say can build people up; can encourage and can be the thing that changes a life.

Perhaps enjoying the silence is also about that moment we can take before we utter our words to one another. A moment when we can consider how what we are about to say might be received. A moment to recognise that the person before us is created in the image of God.

Enjoy the silence.

You can find out more about Depeche Mode at http://www.depechemode.com.

Jane writes:

Oh, what joy a new song is! A new artist. A new take. Sometimes they surprise you so much and just enter your ears without invitation. This is one such song that appeared on Spotify ‘cos I’d started out with something else.

I was initially attracted by the voice of this artist, and the simplicity and emptiness of the sound, but then the lyrics kicked in and I wondered what it was all about. Digging around, it seems to be dedicated to the singer’s Grandma. An explanation of the “wordless promises” to someone loved at the end of their lives. The hand-holding and the close affection.

Anyone who has had the privilege of sitting at the bedside of a loved one during those days will know the profound impact of it. What to say and what not to. How to behave and how not to. What to express and what to hold in. The value of your physical presence and theirs. The need to be sure that they know you care and for me, most profoundly of all, what to pray for and when.

Life’s circle and balances seem all too hard to navigate when time is obviously at a premium and in those precious moments maintaining communication, no matter how small or limited, is like a hidden treasure. The last vestiges of love evident in the need to keep contact through voice, or expression, or breath.

How then do you talk to God about the situation and what do your prayers contain? Peace. Thanksgiving. Desperation. Acceptance. A need to be sure it will be the right thing, the right way at the right time. A bit of rage. A request or a deep-seated knowing. I love the way the songwriter accepts that prayer is a two-way thing here and is in need of its comfort as much as their loved one.

Eventually, of course, the inevitable happens but for me, this song sums up those last few precious days and hours when “sitting on the edge of the bed” is what is of value, and holding a hand says more than any words can.

No experience is the same as any other but this song touched me with its honesty – so on this occasion, it seems best to share the whole set of lyrics. Make of it what you will, but know that the value of the instinct to pray in such tough circumstances is precious beyond words.

I’ve never seen wrists so thin

I’ve never seen your hair without the curls that you put in

Your eyes flutter when you talk about the places that you’ve lived

But Dublin’s different now and you miss your best friend

You say she’s waiting

I sit at the edge of the bed

Baby, I’ll pray for you if you pray for me

The radio’s on, but the signal’s weak

Oh, please, keep talking

And I’ll keep listening

I’ve not been so good at visiting

Regretful now that time is always slipping

You’d tell me I’ll regret many things

This will be the least of it so embrace

Life’s chеcks and balances

You hold my hand

I make wordless promises

Baby, I’ll pray for you if you pray for me

The radio’s on, but the signal’s weak

Oh please, keep talking

And I’ll keep listening

She says she loves to hear the birds sing

In the back of her flower garden

She says she loves to hear the birds sing

It’s what keeps her going

When the day is dying

When the day is dying

When the day is dying

Baby, I’ll pray for you if you pray for me

The radio’s on, but the signal’s weak

Oh please, keep breathing

And I’ll keep listening

You can find out more about Ailbhe Reddy here http://www.ailbhereddy.com/

Tom writes:

I wrote recently that I’m not sure all my memories are quite what I think they are – my brain might even have made some of them up, or at least to have improved them. However, one memory I know is accurate is from the summer after I turned 16. That memory relates to an experience common to the vast majority of British kids at the end of the school year now known as Year 11 – results day! I had just moved from Shropshire to Somerset, so I couldn’t just go in and pick my results up. Instead, they were to be posted to me. Even in the days of a reliable Royal Mail, this didn’t mean I could be certain of getting them the day everyone else did, so I put in a phonecall and one of my former teachers (also a parent to one of my best friends at the time) gave me the basic idea.

What I particularly remember about that day, though, wasn’t the phone call, but the sense of relief that I felt that morning that no longer was my life governed by the rules that said I had to go to school (law changes mean this normally applies at 18 nowadays) – whatever the results happened to be, the future was to be decided by me. To mark this moment I chose to leave my bedroom that morning and dance around our new house to a taped copy of The Soup Dragons’ cover version of the Rolling Stones’ “I’m Free”. Whenever I hear it nowadays, I am returned to that sense of euphoric release that I felt that morning.

Of course, if I’m being pedantic, I’d want to challenge some of the somewhat hedonistic direction that the Jagger/Richards lyrics take – in particular, a Christian ethos suggests that while we have free will, a choice to follow Jesus places in a situation where we can’t do anything we want.

But, as someone who went on to work in Higher and Further Education before ministry, and who spent much of that time engaging with young people making decisions about education, often in the light of results that might be seen as disappointing, I don’t want to focus on questions of free will, hedonism, or Christian ethics. No, when it comes to exam results I want to hold onto that sense of release and freedom I felt that morning – and felt before I knew what my results were (on this occasion they were very good, but 2 years later my initial A-Level results were a disaster!)

We are not, any of us, defined by our exam results. Not now. Not ever. They may require us to take different and unexpected paths to our preferred destinations. They may cause us to re-evaluate our goals and make alternative choices. They may seem like an amazing blessing that take us to places we thought we wanted to go but it turns out we didn’t. I’ve seen those who struggled at school flourish at work, and those who succeeded at college struggle at university, and many, many folk find later in life that what they did at school, college or uni, is utterly irrelevant to what they’re doing and how their life feels when their teens are but a faded memory.

As a Christian I will specifically say that the definition of who I am and who I am seeking to be is found in Christ, not my exam results or qualifications, good or bad. Yet, even without that faith aspect I will declare to anyone and everyone who needs to hear it as they open the brown envelope that holds results of whatever kind: you are free to be who you are, whatever you find enclosed in that paperwork. Exam results cannot define me, you, or anyone else. The things that define us are how we live our life, how we love others, how we engage with the rest of humanity and the wider creation. Exams? Not so much. So, open your bedroom, turn up the stereo, and dance with me…

Hi Everyone

As of 1st September 2023, the weekly ‘Fix’ will also be dropping on our new Facebook Page and Instagram account as well as this Blog.

If you would like to start following the Facebook page/Instagram account then this is the logo to look out for:

And here’s where to go (just to say it will be very quiet until 1st September!)

The Friday Fix – https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100095789821782

@the.friday.fix

Jane writes:

I’m such a sucker for a first line and it’s often through that lyrical content that I get drawn into a song. This one is no different. Alongside that, the joyous sound of Athlete and their big sweeping melodies that work against what they have to say, mean that this song is one that goes somewhere and provokes all sorts of thoughts. Athlete have a home at the FF where other writers have reflected on what they have to say, especially about the harder things in life.

Take all your chances while you can

Never know when they’ll pass you by

Those first two phrases are probably enough to fill any journal you write for days. It sounds on the face of it an easy instruction but what might prevent you is often more the problem. Your life context and financial stability say. Your embarrassment factor. Your lack of self-worth – possibly put there by another. Your risk aversion. Your absolute sense that you’ve no idea if it’s the right thing. I could go on…..

And then for people of faith it’s often about grappling with whether the chance is the right one to take, given all that they know about the God they worship and love

There’s something too about the complexity of that decision-making process that never goes away. Humanity has never been immune to such choices and throughout history, people have used all sorts of approaches and plans, and ideas to help. The toss of a coin, mind maps, strategic plans, algorithms and forecasts. In our scriptures – prayer, laid-out fleeces and other signs and wonders, chance happenings that seem to point the way, ancient writings from other believers, and clearly-heard directions. Literally and metaphorically like a sum that can’t be solved.

Like a sum a mathematician cannot solve

Like me trying my hardest to explain

But the songwriter then has something much more emotional to link to. Cries and kisses. Something much more about the feelings that lead to action and not regret. Emotions that plot a takeover and win. Emotions that link us to ourselves, others and the divine. Emotions that enable us to express our faith not just in language and ideas but in instinct and belief.

It’s all about your cries and kisses

Those first steps that I can’t calculate

I need some more of you to take me over

This song is a lovesong of course – there’s not many songs that aren’t in their own way – but it also encourages us to contemplate a whole lot of other big life questions. Life questions that God is interested in for us. Life questions that rise out of a deep sense of knowing who we are as unique and precious, “fearfully and wonderfully made.” Life questions that tap into our emotions and thought processes. Life questions that just may encourage us to take the holy risk, and alongside that, all our chances while we can.

Athlete split in 2013 and, although their members are busy doing other things, the only remnant seems to be a Facebook page and fabulous music

Oooh – and this track was used at the end of a Dr Who episode – you can see a bit of that here – https://youtu.be/ubTJI_UphPk

Tom writes:

There are many songs that take me back to parts of my childhood summers, but the one that really gets me smiling is Reef’s “Summer’s in Bloom”. When I hear it, I’m immediately back in Somerset, hanging out at Greenbank outdoor pool, or in the beer garden of the Street Inn, or up the park with cider from the local farm. Or maybe the memories are from further back, of cycle rides through the local estate (the kind with gamekeepers, not council houses) with my cricket bat on my back to get to the club I played for, of evening adventures up the Wrekin with the youth club or Scouts, or camping out in the field behind my mate’s house. There’s a million and one other memories it brings flooding back as well, all of them bringing a smile to my face.

Yet, here’s the thing: the album Glow, from which this song comes, wasn’t released until January 1997, when I was already 18 and part way through my third year of A-Levels while of my mates had already moved off to university or found jobs. And so the song that has me bathing in memories of glorious childhood and teenage summers didn’t come out until I was almost 20 and those days were behind me! Why is that? Well, in part it’s because it’s Reef, and the couple of places it mentions in the lyrics are places I can identify – indeed, my sister lives not far from Cinnamon Lane in Glastonbury. I never went swimming there, but a Westcountry accent singing about summer swimming is just bound to take my mind back, isn’t it, even if it’s to a pool rather than a river? And from there, the mind does the rest!

Of course, the reality is that not only is it strange that a song not released until the end of my childhood should so strongly remind me of the childhood it played no part in, but the reality is that I don’t think my summers were ever quite as glorious as I remember. I’m pretty sure it’s a case of rose-tinted (sun)glasses! While I can’t describe my childhood and teenage years as bad (I know I have friends whose childhoods are genuinely entitled to that description and stronger), they were far from perfect – I was both bullied and a bully, who struggled at times to fit in socially and who developed physically quite late. I’m also pretty certain that I only went to Greenbank a handful of times, and I definitely only camped in that field the once! Yet, I definitely look back with fondness to those summers, whether amid the wheat fields and playing fields of Shropshire, or amid the play parks and beer gardens of Somerset.

I suspect church life is very much like this too. When we look back we remember with fondness the full churches on a Sunday, and over-flowing Sunday Schools, and gloriously sunny picnic outings. I’m sure those things existed, but I am not convinced they were a weekly occurrence in most of our churches most of the time. And even if they were I suspect we weren’t yet old enough to experience quite how much energy they required of the leaders and organisers, and that it was a good 30-40 years ago at least!

Honestly, fond memories of the past are a good thing, even if they are heavily filtered through pink prisms. Yet we have to be careful that the memories that make us smile don’t catch us in the trap that is nostalgia. Time is a one-way road and we can’t go back. And anyway, the past is a foreign country, they do things differently there. We are where and when we are. So, as I listen to Reef sing of past summers in bloom, I’ll continue to smile about those that happened when I was younger than now I am, but I’ll also make sure I put my focus on enjoying the summer that’s in bloom right now!

You can find Reef at a handful of festivals this summer – find out more here https://www.reeftheband.com/

Tom writes:

Gill’s much-loved Blur aren’t the only band making a come-back this year. Another band doing so are Foo Fighters. For sure, they haven’t been gone that long, but on the back of the sudden death of drummer Taylor Hawkins (a drummer who steps into Dave Grohl’s seat and not only succeeds but thrives is a drummer who will be sorely missed!) the question was understandably asked by fans as to whether they would be back again. It was undoubtedly asked by the band too.

Yet here they are, back with a new drummer, Josh Freese, and a new album – an album I personally think is one of their most powerful to date. Understandably, it is an album that audibly processes the grief that the band experienced at the sudden and unexpected death of their great friend and drummer. It is also, as songs such as The Teacher make clear, also an album that includes Grohl’s processing of his grief following the death of his mother – a woman who played a significant role in supporting and encouraging the Nirvana drummer and Foo Fighters frontman’s career in music.

To me, the track that stands out the most when I listen to the album is ‘The Glass’, which opens with the lines “I had a vision of you and just like that I was left to live without it… I found a version of love and just like that I was left to live without it… Waiting for this storm to pass, waiting on this side of the glass, but I see my reflection in you, see your reflection in me, how could it be?”

In these words, I find something of the truth that I try to encapsulate when I am given the deep privilege and awesome responsibility of leading funerals.

The first part of that truth is that grief is a perfectly natural and appropriate response to death. In this day and age that seems always wants smiles and laughter in celebration of a life lived well, those of us committed to speaking truth must be clear that the death of a loved one or loved ones hurts, deeply, and to diminish that hurt is to deny the way in which we are left to live without the vision and love of the one who has died. As I lead funerals I hold onto my memories of funerals I experienced in South Africa where wailing and sobbing were an expected, normal part of the occasion. To misquote the oft-used, and mis-understood, lines: death is most certainly not nothing at all.

Yet, at the same time, as a Christian minister I am called to acknowledge another truth – that death is not the end nor the final word. There are, of course, numerous ways to explore this. For me, the way I have usually offered to congregations is to consider that all love is but a part of the great love of God, who is indeed Love itself, and that since there is nothing in all creation, not even death, that can separate us from God’s love in Christ then so there is nothing that can separate us, not even death, from the love of the one we see no longer, nor separate them from ours.

To grieve is to demonstrate that we love. And our love is a reflection of God’s love, which has overcome even death. So, while we see dimly through the glass, nonetheless we can rejoice in the ongoing, undefeated love we have experienced and which is reflected both in our grief and in the ways we continue to live as reflections of the love we have known, still know, and will know into eternity.

Find out more about Foo Fighters at https://www.foofighters.com/