Fr and Christmas

Christmas

So here we are Christmas 2015 very nearly upon us, my first as a Rev, my first living in a church house, my first December in all my working life not working in a shop trying to provide a service to those before me. How things have changed since I took up full time employment at the tender age of just 15 years old.

I have fond memories of Christmas as a child, lovely family occasions surrounded by 1970’s decorations that out lived a generation and fairy lights that were older than I was. I recall some of the Christmas gifts, with great affection and I remember a man in Rumbelow’s uniform delivering a state of the art Sony Betamax video recorder on Christmas Eve including a wired remote control. After many failed attempts at working the thing I recall recording and then watching the classic movie Rollerball some longtime after.  I recall a bike with ten gears that several months later I rode into a wall. I recall a Tottenham Hotspur away kit that I slept in and a Nookie Bear replica doll that may still frequent the loft at my parents home in Lancashire. Church was nowhere on the radar the closest I got to it was playing one of the three wise men in the school nativity, something I did with little conviction and with no theological understanding whatsoever. The Andy Williams Christmas album was my favorite record along with other classics like The Barron Knights and Johnny Mathis offering a ray of hope!

My brother and I would have to share a room for a night or two as my Granny moved in for the festivities, she would rock up in her Fiat 127 mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve fully armed with gifts and huge joint of beef from her favorite Butcher and quickly would set about preparing the vegetables within moments of arrival. 

I wanted those childhood Christmases to last forever they were probably the most wonderful times of my young life, and when the reality of adulthood took over, the perennial sadness and sense of loss was sometimes overwhelming, why couldn’t Christmas last as long as the Radio Times suggested it should? The retail Christmas slowly but surely became a way of life, and I never really enjoyed the season or the work but needs were a must and so I plodded on regardless doing as I was told trying my best to get into the season of good will by listening to Jonah Lewie and Shakin Stevens to the point of even annoying myself. Independent retailing was ok but when I joined the big boys it frankly became a real battle to get through it and that was even before I was a Christian. It wasn’t about the baby Jesus it was just a resentment about working when everybody else seemed to be having a wonderful time. When I was Baptised on the first Sunday of Advent 2007 I was  running a big shop, in a kind of ‘Christian’ runs big shop kind of way, I was unaware at that point how life would change and how Christmas and my appreciation of it would as well.  

As a child I would love the excitement of waking very early, usually before my brother and having a peep to see if ‘he’ had been and the moment when I realized he had it became, my que to wake up the Frost household to officially begin Christmas.  A quick nip to the lounge to see how big Santa’s delivery had been, usually filled me with great satisfaction simply hoping that a fair majority would have my name on the label. On went the electric fire with an extra bar, on went the fairy lights and on went the kettle as I made drinks for the grown-ups to reduce the waiting time before the opening present ceremony could commence. No matter how hard I tried proceedings were always delayed before the entire congregation would gather around the tree in various sleeping attire waiting for my Father to eventually join us.

They say you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you don’t they?  I have to say I was very well fed by the hand of my employer and I would never publically criticize why or how they do business, but in recent years I was in a unique position doing a job that was fundamentally about making money, I think that is fair to say, Shops are there to make money aren't they? They are not there to remember the baby Jesus and not there to ensure families have some quality time over the 12 days of Christmas. At the same time I was learning and understanding and developing as a Christian. I recall a ‘heavy’ Christmas briefing when a colleague gently whispered in my ear, ‘It’s not about the f***ing baby Jesus this year is it Frostie’?

He wasn’t wrong but when had it ever been? In my working life it had never been!

But I so wanted it to be about the baby Jesus and as the years went by the more difficult did it become. Somehow I got through it, mostly through laughing and working very, very hard. Being a trainee clergyman in a retail setting was extremely difficult and something I struggled with but my self- respect and determination somehow got me through it. And now nearly seven months after leaving the hand that fed me the main thing I miss is the many wonderful people who are still there and who continue to work very, very hard.

And so to the first Christmas where I am expected and want to fully participate in the most amazing season of Christmas, the Christian season of Christmas where I, my training incumbent and hundreds of people will come to St Matthews, Burnley to celebrate the birth of Christ.  I don’t need to worry about budgets and rotas, and deliveries for the time being. My job specification at present is to simply ‘serve’. 

Over the last few months and weeks ‘serving’ has given me so many incredible experiences I perhaps never thought would happen. Among the experiences I have Baptised children, I have been with families in time of deep sadness, I have conducted funeral services,  I have met people on the fringes of society, I have been offered drugs, I have met lots of priests, I have dished up food, I have met lots and lots of Christians, I have been close to tears, I have made new friends, I have felt euphoric and I felt lost. I have transformed from being Alex to Fr Alex, from Mr Frost to Rev Frost, but I hope I haven’t changed too much from that little boy who many years ago rejoiced in the simple things in life.

Christmas this year will be different it already has been as I see the activities and experiences of Christmas 2015 come to life and whilst it is indeed a full and hectic time for a clergyman that feels just fine.  This year I look forward to embracing the joy of Christmas day and being a Dad in the provided church house with my young family and dear wife free from the strains and stresses of a previous occupation.

Ironically I will be working on Christmas morning firstly to welcome the new day and to celebrate the birth of Jesus, and then to preach at our mid-morning service, but I must tell you that serving God and celebrating the birth of Christ this year will give me more pleasure than I could possibly imagine.

 In this broken world, in this time of exhaustion and expense for so many people, my desire remains now and always that even if it for just one moment, you find a time for a prayer of thanksgiving for the arrival of our Lord and Savior. And that in the Christmas story you find hope and that you find time for yourselves and your families.

Till next time,

Happy Christmas everybody,

Alextheanglican.

Alone

Greetings,

Not too long ago I arrived in church purposely early to prepare for an evening service where it is unusual to get numbers higher than single figures. The familiar noise of the lock on the huge door which gains entry to back of house delights of St Matthews Burnley is becoming more familiar as the early months of ordained life pass. My familiarity with the place doesn’t quite extend beyond the front door though and so I scramble around in the darkness and mistakenly switch on the light to the cold toilet area that is frequented by some of Lancashire’s finest spiders and a rotating hand towel. I find the correct switch and the electrical currents kick into life fighting to illuminate the fluorescent tubes and bulbs that have been idle most of the cold and autumnal day that has just passed. The light arouses unusual sounds, almost making me feel I am not alone as I enter the vestry to seek out another light which is located where you wouldn’t put a light switch in any normal light switch locating circumstances.

Thursday night is our 7 o’clock Communion service and one of my favorite times of the working week. We don’t expect huge numbers and rarely are our expectations exceeded but it doesn’t matter, I don’t think our purpose is anything other than to celebrate Mass and welcome those that choose to join us. In the ever quickening world outside this Holy building the 30 minutes of worship is as important as all the other services where numbers usually exceed our Thursday night gathering. The atmosphere the church creates particularly as the nights draw in is very special and one I find deeply spiritual.

The vestry is full of history and I’m sure the walls could tell a thousand stories and a few more. I’m unsure what colour the walls are but if I had to take a shot I’d go for ‘off’ yellow, yellow! I draw back the curtains that unveils the most extensive vestment collection I have come across in my infant years of ministry, there is more linen than a Premier Inn wash house. It is an impressive collection of outfits that would rival a night at The Palladium with Shirley Bassey. If you need it we have it, Cassocks, Stoles, Alb’s, Girdles, Copes, Dalmatics, all words and outfits that were completely alien to me just a few years ago but I now feel quite comfortable ‘dressing up’ and looking my best for worshiping God. Among the choices are Red, Purple, Black, White, Green and even salmon coloured vestments filling the long rail and eventually I come to my own little gap which I seem to have acquired for myself. Thursday night is pretty straight forward, Cassock, Alb, Stole, usually in that order and so I dig out what is required in preparation for the Eucharist. I have no need to venture into our vestment drawer which homes many more wonderful vestments and even more cotton, the vestment drawer is for another time but equally as impressive as the rail.

 As I climb into my cassock like Jenson Button getting into his racing gear the smell of the vestry is apparent, reassuringly churchy and a mixture of homeliness, similar to the warmth of an elderly relatives front room with a hint of dampness in the pantry. It’s a rather nice aroma and one that I guess has been around longer than the choir! After ’climbing in’ and ‘doing up’ the final button of the cassock a quick look in the mirror indicates all is well and off I trot to prepare things for the few that may join us on this cold October evening. As I respectfully gene flex  before the alter, I am reminded of the wear and tear a man my age suffers as I feel my back creaking as I return to the upright position.  I track down and execute the switching on of yet more lights and the darkness of the church is replaced with gentle yet effective lighting that turns the sleeping high altar into the majestic and beautiful showpiece for the evenings main attraction. I stand and stare for a moment, it looks more beautiful each time I have the privilege of getting things ready.

As I look out from the high alter, I contemplate the craftsmanship, the stonework, the windows, the joinery and consider myself very fortunate to be working in such a special environment. Just for a moment I think about all that has gone before me in this space, the congregations, the families, the weddings, the Baptisms, the thousands and thousands of people that would have received the bread and wine. And the clergy, all those reverend people who have served God at St Matthews and if I like or not I now become part of that history until the walls no longer stand. I step down from the alter and say a small prayer of thanksgiving. 

Most things have been already done for me by a loyal member of the congregation and so I am left to light the candles which I do with great care mindful of not wanting to burn the place down before anyone arrives, I stand back and again take a look, the fine-looking high alter had just got that little bit more attractive. I turn and walk away, I get an optimistic double figure number of service books from the aging book rack and place them in a suitable place in case we get a run on newcomers. I open the double side door and illuminate yet more lights to ensure people can arrive and depart in relative safety. 

That’s it all jobs done and so I wait for either the Vicar to arrive or the congregation and just double check all is well. I again approach the high altar, check all is present and turn around  once  more to look out at this partly lit church and contemplate its beauty and its purpose.
Snapping out of it, I take a few steps and choose to sit in my Curate stall and spend a few moments in silent prayer. As I sit I shudder as a cold chill grips me for a moment and then I settle down. I close my eyes to be perfectly still but this big old building offers some strange sounds placing another shred of doubt in my mind that I am not alone. 

Eventually all is quiet, and then a moment of nothingness is broken by what sounds like teenagers passing by on route to whatever the evening has in store for the youth of today. They pass quickly and before I can gather my thoughts the noise is replaced with the distant sound of an emergency service, at first far away but gradually gets closer. Rather than pass it is joined by another ‘nee, nor’ almost in perfect synchronisation yet is different to the first leading me to conclude something slightly serious may be occurring not too far away. Both sounds pass and then it is still. I close my eyes and say the Lord’s Prayer, Our Father……………… and I ask God to look after those who are driving the emergency vehicles and those who will be receiving them.

I get up walk to the front door, nobody here yet so I turn around and see the candles that are for people to light, in memory of a loved ones or an occasion.  For just a second I think of my Dad, and for the first time I light a candle in his memory. I smile as I light the tea light and I wonder what he would say to me right now. I return to my stall to wait for others to arrive, I do some essential housekeeping on my stall as I left it all rather untidy after evening prayer some ninety minutes before hand. I think, I think, I think, A new life of prayer service and worship is proving to be all I expected and more…..

The clank of the door occurs, I don’t know for certain but I am entirely accurate in my assumption it is the Vicar, It is time to do God’s work…………….

Till next time, peace and love with you all,

Alextheanglican 

Baps and Bagels.

Oh hello it’s been a while!

So there I was looking at the baps and bagels in the reduced tray In Tesco shortly after Morning Prayer at church when I realized the error of my ways.

I entered the aircraft hangar commonly known as Tesco Burnley at the request of my good lady to get some toilet rolls and burger buns mindful that quality produce was necessary, as one was for eating and the other  for………. Well anyway as I traversed the travellator I checked all the essentials were in place, you know wallet, keys, phone, wallet, keys, phone, wallet, keys, phone ensuring that my double check has been complimented with a third and final check  reassuring  to one selves wellbeing that all was in order. But when I checked the money situation I was surprised yet delighted to find an extra ten pound note I didn’t know I had which was very pleasing which indeed led me to explore the attractiveness of a Tesco’s reduced bakery counter on a Monday morning.

I was feeling quite content after negotiating a rather busy period in my early weeks of ministry and this was the first diary free morning in some time. I have been doing all sorts of things of late and the variety in the job has been really great. I have been set free to baptise people without supervision something  that is a lovely marker in the sand to be entrusted to do something that is a special event in so many people’s lives. It is really an experience to be experienced and if I can offer a word of wisdom if you have an impending Baptism it would be for the ladies to wear at least a knee length skirt and not to eat crisps as the consequences of both can be quite off putting. 

Wearing the dog collar most of the time means meeting lots of wonderful characters like the lady who collared me whilst I was walking the dog, who gave me her interpretation of the Holy Spirit which was ‘interesting; and something I had not experienced in any text book or theological institution. When she asked what I thought, I was diplomatic and said, ‘Well, The Holy Spirit means many different things to many different people’ as I quickly took a pathway opposite to her and one I didn’t intend to go down!  Or the man or thought my Christian nature could extend to running him to Sainsbury’s because he was tired or the neighbour who inadvertently slips the name of Jesus into lots of our conversations like, ‘Jesus, things are well expensive’ or ‘Jesus, I’ve been so busy’. 

And the joy of being ordained is still wonderful but not without difficulty, like losing the skills of a life time in retail is not easy, being the new boy and learning new practices and new ways of working is unsettling and challenging but also fun even if you end up feeling a bit foolish from time to time. For example how daft do you think I felt when I asked of the Vicar, ‘Erm where do the green vestments go’? To which came the response came, ‘In the drawer that says green vestments’! Or speaking at the wrong time, or getting so engrossed in a service only to realise that you are the only person in the church still standing and everybody is looking on at you in a caring sympathetic and loving manner.  

At a recent harvest service I was rather tickled by the accuracy of a young boy leading a procession of infants back to school who waved at the Vicar and I and shouted, ‘Bye by you Christians’ to which the Vicar replied, ‘Yes that’s what we are, Bye by’. Or the little child who randomly told me in the middle of a lesson on the Egyptians in great detail what he was getting for Christmas!  It really is great fun going into the school where the children make me smile immensely.

One thing about being a Deacon is that the choice of wardrobe becomes quite simple the only thing that isn’t black these days is the collar and the underpants and if I’m that way inclined sometimes it’s just the collar that is white! That’s the stylish autonomy being ordained affords you, gone are the days when one could wear white socks to work! I fear my Anglo Catholic curacy is rubbing off on me as on a couple of training events I got the feeling people would be disappointed if I wasn’t dressed in traditional clergy wear although I am tempted to shock everyone by rocking up in a yellow shirt and black dog collar one of these days! It’s surprising though even though 99% of the time I dress and look like a vicar how many people ask ‘Are you a Vicar’? Frankly I can’t be bothered explaining the different level of Holy orders and so the generic answer is usually, Yes although I am tempted to say something like ‘no I am not actually I’m on a one man stag do’ !

Anyway where was I? Oh yes looking at the baps and bagels in Tesco. Well nothing took my fancy, the mass of Monday morning chapatti’s that were reduced to 29p didn’t inspire me enough to make a purchase and so turned on my heels and headed for the bottom wiping range a quarter of mile down the store on isle 724 ! On commencing the trip and considering breaking the journey up with a look at the fresh meat counter the realisation of what I done struck me! Ten pounds in my pocket, ten pounds in my pocket, why have I got ten pounds in my pocket????

My dear wife had kindly asked me the night before to get these items of shopping along with getting myself some much needed fuel for my little Chevrolet Aveo. And there it was fuel for my Chevrolet Aveo that was the moment when my whole future life flashed before my eyes. I had a vision of being locked away for life, stripped of my Holy orders and disowned by my family and new church community I would never fulfil the dream of being the Archbishop of Canterbury by the age of 47.

Alex what have you done?

SO the night before I got the fuel for my Chevrolet Aveo and as my wife instructed me I got some money out of the cash machine and entered the Spar garage intent on getting some rolls for our burgers and rolls for our bottoms, plus some carrots for our Guinea pigs but on entering, disappointedly the spar could only provide one of the three items I required, and there it was I turned around and left the shop completely forgetting I had put ten pounds of fuel in my Chevrolet Aveo .

As I negotiated the long walk to the loo rolls my anxiety increased I was almost sprinting to the isle and through the checkout, I dived in the car and did a risky 31 in a 30 zone in my haste to get to the garage before the police, police dogs, CID, anti-terrorism squad and so on and so on. When I got there I was relieved her majesty’s boys in blue were not in situe, all things were very quiet as I sheepishly entered the garage.

A voice said ‘I know why you’re here Father’ as she smiled at me. ‘Do you?’ I replied. ‘Yes, I saw you looking at the vegetables last night and walk out and get in your car and drive off’ she said. ‘Did you?’ I replied. To which she responded ‘Yes I did, and I knew you would be back’. ‘Did you’? I replied.

I was mortified the staff was highly amused, I asked to speak to the manager, in fact I was ready to plead with the board, the chairman and the shareholders of the Texaco empire to plead for forgiveness. Fortunately that wasn’t going to be necessary and I paid my debts and left the store with a sense of utter relief that Britain’s finest constabulary weren’t going to stalk out the house in preparation for a dawn raid!

So there we have it, the trainee Vicar continues to land himself in daft and crazy situations, thank God our creator has a sense of humour!

Till next time

May your God go with you?

Alextheanglican x

10,000 Reasons

10,000 Reasons

My first ever blog was published on 12^th May 2012 and to date it has been read just 52 times. I would probably advise against reading it as it’s not my finest piece of work but if you’re that way inclined here is the link.

https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4221472010675865018#editor/target=post;postID=4219683294164678988;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=81;src=postname

It was a very short blog in fact the shortest blog I have ever published, it was short on word count, short on content and short on humor but as I reflect on my blogs now surpassing 10,000 hits I couldn’t help but look back to reflect where this little adventure started out.

Ten thousand hits, I like that !

It was published as I nervously waited for a letter to arrive from the Bishop of Jarrow informing me if I had been successful or not in being able to commence training for ordained ministry. In fact just a few weeks ago I passed a service station where in 2012 I nervously sipped an excessively hot drink which although ‘Costa’ lot of money was most certainly not a ‘Costa’ Coffee. The service station was on the out skirts of Durham, a place I took refuge after arriving ridiculously early for late afternoon appointment with the Bishop. I remember virtually nothing of the interview except being asked my views on gay marriage. As usual I probably over emphasized my thoughts leaving me to consider on the way home maybe I said too much just as I had done on many previous occasions.

Well history dictates I made it through and alongside ordination training, came the encouragement to write down some of the events and ups and downs along the way. The intent initially was to tell a funny anecdote or two to see if the ‘dormant’ funny bones had anything left to offer, and I’m pleased to report that on the occasional blog I feel I wrote a jolly line or two.  As I look back on the blogs I have written previous to this one I can’t help but feel nostalgic and rather proud at some of the stories I have written.

Also it fills me with some sadness as the initial period of training has ended as I begin again as a Curate and eagerly await September to clarify what the next three to four years will hold. The time from the first blog until ordination was exceptionally difficult probably not as much as I realized when I was in the thick of it. I put myself under a lot of pressure to be a father, husband, manager and trainee clergyman. It is only now all these blogs later that I reflect how really tough it was and if it wasn’t from my utter commitment to God I would definitely have packed it all in. Whilst I enjoyed the companionship and worship and prayer, the study never ever came easy and when I look back at my portfolio with its numerous theological essays I sometimes wonder how on earth did I do it? Study does not come naturally, it never has it never will! Laughing come naturally as does chatting and caring, all good things for ministry but not attributes that will get you the much needed pass mark a trainee cleric requires!

 I am sure some people read my blogs and think what a load of nonsense this is, however I also get some lovely feedback from friends but also people I don’t know and I find that really nice and affirming of the enjoyment writing gives me. Do I have any favorite blogs? Yes a couple stand out for different reasons.

The blog: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder Isn’t it?

https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4221472010675865018#editor/target=post;postID=6827783968270181109;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=50;src=postname

It Is a blog I really like, it is totally true and I still shudder thinking of what we had driven too only to have a really great holiday at the end of it.

Also the blog : The night I met Jesus in the Lift.

http://alextheanglican.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/night-i-met-jesus-in-lift.html

It just makes me smile there were no children back then just me and Sarah. Ordination was never even a thought.

And my favorite blog maybe unsurprisingly is the Blog: A love Story

http://alextheanglican.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/night-i-met-jesus-in-lift.html

This blog was written about my late Father who passed away at the end of my first year of ordination training, I recall that moment vividly as ironically I was studying death and dying with a fine man, Rev Phil Hudd in Lancaster. I actually recall thinking to myself I wonder if my Father might pass away during the module and indeed he did. My elderly father had been suffering from Alzheimer’s and I had to adapt to my ‘old’ Dad with ‘new’ characteristics. It wasn’t easy but I have no doubt a greater being than myself was with me and my Father and teaching me some incredibly valuable lessons during the painful few years that he was ill. I am not ashamed, embarrassed or afraid to say that I miss my Dad dreadfully I wish he could have been with me physically on Ordination day. I have no doubt that God used my Father in ways I may never fully comprehend.

Anyway, 10,000 hits is something that pleases me a lot, I see it as 10,000 opportunities to talk of God, 10,000 chances to express my faith. I hope I don’t come across as weird or a Bible basher, or pious or self-indulgent if I do then that is not my intention.

You know I have met and continue to meet Christians, in fact I suppose that’s now my job as a professional Christian. I sometimes look at Christians from a non-Christian perspective and quickly have to remind myself that I am indeed a Christian, but I suppose like most families they are nearly always one or two that get on your nerves and think what are they on?

Some Christians are a bit odd, some flummox me with their external personas, some look great yet talk bile, some look weird yet talk beautifully and make total sense.

I have no idea when the next blog will appear, a rest is in order (I have other ideas) I feel but if it’s a month, 6 months, a year or longer then I pray that you will look after yourselves and that you take time to consider what is important and if your creator should have some involvement in your life. I hope you do he would love to hear from you.

Ten thousand hits, I like that !

Till next time

Much love

Alextheanglican  

Who's this Fr Alex then ?

Hi

  It has been just over three weeks since ordination and the euphoria of that very special day and the emotion and giddiness has now passed, The ordination cards have come down and been put away for safe keeping, the adrenalin filled countdown to the big day has long gone and now here I am as a man working out what happens next?

Well what happens next literally is I am off to Holy Island from my bolt hole of St Johns College which sits in the shadow of one of Britain’s most historical Christian settings being that of the stunning Durham Cathedral. I haven’t slept well since I arrived a few days ago and the double malt whiskey’s I have been indulging in have done little to help me on my way. The company I am with is splendid, colleagues and now friends form the mix for my final academic obligation for 2014/2015 and whilst I am happy to be here, part of me would like to be at home and getting on with the day job and being with the family.

                                                                    
                                                                       Holy Island

However here I am and Durham is indeed a great place to reflect on all that has passed on all that lies ahead, the emotions can be extreme and the future a little overwhelming as I currently feel in a place of unnerving vulnerability. It’s that kind of feeling when you start a new job, keen to do good things but naive and insecure about doing matters properly in fear of making a mess. In recent weeks I have turned into a bit of a flapper a fumbler a wobbler yet desperately intent on getting through the early days impatiently striving to get to a place of familiarity and comfort.

Here at Durham, classroom periods are a mixture of interested learning time to moments of drifting off with the fairies and thinking about Baptism visits, family members, prayers, preaching, death and dying and my impending holiday abroad. After working for the same business for 15 years all of sudden doing something else is very difficult indeed. Being a ‘professional’ Christian is not that simple. I am slowly getting used to wearing the dog collar and with that I am beautifully afforded lots of smiles and good wishes as though I have become this delightfully kind and attractive person overnight. Nobody has told me to sod off yet although I suspect it is just a matter of time. And yet also with the collar comes the responsibility of being a public figure and that is something I am still working on as I often get a second glance from someone in the street or a snotty child looking up at me oddly up as I queue in the supermarket with my items from the reduced counter!

Time is something I am struggling with as well; I have gone from not having enough hours in the days to do things to having periods of great time to manage myself and my priorities and what I do next. This has resulted in a combination of visiting, listening, understanding how the rhythm of life as a Deacon should play out. Visits to the foodbank, the school, the hospice, meeting clergy has been very informative but I struggle committing to too much as I am reminded that the purpose of an newly ordained person is as much about the ‘being’ as it is about the ‘doing’. However a community center in the parish have made me so welcome and the banter between a, wet behind the ears curate and some lovely older folk who share stories and laughs as I serve them pea and ham soup or a nice pudding is something to behold.

Joining an Anglo Catholic church comes with much to learn, so much to wear and when to wear it, so many traditions that if aren’t protected by us slowly slip away in time neve r to be seen again and I really value and appreciate the importance of this in our attempts to ensure Gods church remains a Holy space where unique and beautiful worship is played out in a troubled part of Burnley for many years to come.  People are so kind and encouraging but it is something I find overwhelming in itself and the gentleness I am afforded is probably more than I deserve. It leads me to feel very blessed, My training incumbent is I suppose what a good training incumbent should be, honest, patient, instructive, and encouraging, supportive and I sense is more than experienced enough to let me do things when the time is right. That is really important to me and very reassuring.

                                                              St Matthews, Burnley

It might feel odd to read this as the last month has genuinely been one of the most wonderful periods of my entire life. The family is settled at our lovely home, ordination is done, and I have a holiday to Turkey to look forward to. Yet taking on this new role and one that comes with great responsibility and that realization has struck home with great oomph over the last few weeks, there can be no turning back, no return to retail and the autonomy to retreat to the safety haven of my office when the going gets tough has gone. No get out clauses just a stark realization that through my own submission to God I have committed myself to a life as a public figure wearing a dog collar and following Jesus.

It is evening now and Holy Island was lovely and another reminder have had the privilege to do some many wonderful things throughout my training and I have met some amazing people, many of whom are now dear friends. I have visited some stunning places and been in awe of some of the sights before me but this very evening has been one to behold. Tonight at Durham Cathedral as the last stragglers, the final tourist left this most amazing building, I and my peers from our theological college went in. We had the cathedral to ourselves, it was beautifully lit, very still, atmospherically stunning and once more I felt incredibly close to my creator as a priest led us on a pilgrimage through this Holy place. And it has left me feeling I don’t want this relationship to be exclusive. I want it to be corporate and I want others to share in the happiness of a relationship with someone that will not judge, will not criticize, will not gossip, but will love and nurture you, and be the rock to a fast crumbling and eroding world and sometimes frantic way of life. I wondered how I could encourage anybody who reads my blog yet struggles with faith so they could do so.

                                                             Durham Cathedral

                                                                 

And I came to this conclusion God is ready if you are. You may be ready but frightened, you may be curious but embarrassed you may be ridiculed if you told anyone and so on and so on. Maybe you have tried before and found nothing; you may have experienced before yet lost. Yet when I think about my own vocation it started with something so simple, something so familiar and something I never thought would lead to ordination. What was that thing do you think?

When I was about 12 years old no one in my family mentioned church or Jesus or God but for some reason I believed in this ‘thing’ called God. The only thing I knew with any certainty was The Lord’s prayer.  So on my own under the covers of my duvet I would recite the Lord’s Prayer. Every night of my life from childhood I said The Lord’s prayer. I told nobody, never mentioned it, not to my parents or my wife or my children till much later in our relationship. I didn’t expect anything; I never asked for anything, I just recited The Lord’s prayer.

Our Father

Who art in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom

The power and the glory

Forever and ever

Amen

Theologians like to discuss this kind of stuff, I just like to say it and I say it at least three times a day now, but what about you? Do you say it? Do you have the courage to open the door a little to God? Try it go on when you have read this blog try it. Nothing might happen but stick with it, in due course it will!

Our Father

Who art in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom

The power and the glory

Forever and ever

Amen

As I leave LCTP College and return to my Curacy, I leave The Lord’s prayer with you. One prayer and one small step.

Love and best wishes

Alextheanglican

Fr Alex

Frostie

Alex

Al

Rev

x

x

x

  

See You on the Other Side.

See You on the Other Side

Little did I know when I was being escorted out of Edge End High school hall being told I was ‘too thick’ to sit the Math’s exam that I would be writing this blog today. Little did I know that when I ran away from a work colleague in 1987 who bullied me terribly did I think I would become a blogger! Little did I know that as I watched my children being born would I be writing from a Vicarage that belongs to the Church of England! Little did I know that as I died a slow death on a stage at a comedy club in Manchester did I know I would have just completed Morning Prayer a few minutes ago! Little did I know that when I was being punched to the ground by a ‘footballer’ who didn’t like red cards did I know I would be staring at a dog collar by the side of my computer! Little did I know that some years ago as I watched a comedian at a packed Salford Lowry perform comedy I had written did I know that in a weeks’ time I will be referred to as Fr Alex, and little did I know that when I started the journey to ordination did I know I would be about to start work as the curate at St Matthews church in Burnley.

EDGE END HIGH SCHOOL NELSON

This is my last blog before the big day, an exciting week full of events and experiences, an interview with the Bishop, a rehearsal at the Cathedral and then whisked away on retreat to spend a few days in silence and prayer.  I can do the prayer, but I’m not sure about the silence, I am one of those characters that love’s solitude but not so much silence unless I am perched on the top of Pendle Hill, listening to nothing other than the robust and noisy sheep surrounding me or the occasional moo of a cow down in the valley.  I am very much a forward thinking man you know? As I listen to predominantly eighties music on my IPod walkman following wherever the lead of the dog takes us.

Blackburn Cathedral

Pendle Hill - My favorite place in Lancashire

I find myself in a bit of a bubble at the moment drifting from the past to the future and back again, thinking about all the good wishes, all the happy memories and how wonderful the future will be or not. On a recent visit to a clergy friend he summed it up quiet beautifully I thought, he said ‘Being a curate is accepting the fact that you are the person cleaning the shit from the gutters one minute, to the expectation of being the Mayor of the borough the next’. I found this most helpful although I do get a little nauseous going up ladders and I am not one to wear excessive bling on damp irregular Mondays to Fridays’.

My biggest quandary today is travel bag or suitcase for the retreat? As I have to take all my clergy gear plus ever so smart casual clothing that will do for all weather eventualities. One thing I come to consider as I prepare to ship out for a few days is that my underpants collection is so flipping middle aged! Not a brand in sight and not a pattern that is externally desirable and not a whiff of designer boxer shorts. I can tell you that whilst I appear effervescently handsome and youthful on the outside, internally I am deeply middle aged. I was gently reminded of this by my dear loving wife who inquired, ‘is there any form of lumbar support I didn’t have?’ I told her my ankle; knee, calf, shoulder, neck pillow and truss were all part of keeping the well-oiled machine functional as I rapidly approach my 46^th birthday. My daughter reinforced this today as well when she suggested the shirt I was wearing was far to young for me!

Middle Aged Underpants

And as the big occasion is just a few days away I have of course considered my attire for the ordination service, the un-trendy underpants are a given, but I have a dilemma between the Burnley FC socks I was given on Father’s day or the not very comical, comical Holy socks I got as a freebie when I ordered my clergy shirts! However big note to self is, do not wear the genuine fake Sergio Tachini white ones that I wear around the house. Generally I think I am okay as I have this week been wearing my dog collar around the house and you will be pleased to know I was also wearing the shirt to gain familiarity! It is a little uncomfortable as my slender double chin rest upon the collar but I think I will just about cope okay. Cuff links is another matter, what a kafuffle that is and it appears for this to be a long standing principal of wearing clergy shirts my wife will have to accompany me everywhere I need to dress myself!

A Clergy Collar

In truth I have that bubble in the tummy that fluffiness in the head that is either excitement or fear or a caffeine hangover I’m not sure which one is correct, but after a long, long journey to this coming weekend I can’t help but feel extremely proud of finally making it to the Cathedral on the 4^th July. After many set -backs and disappointments after many knockers and blockers after many dis-believers and mickey takers it appears I have made it to the big day. It has to be said that the encouragement, love, support, laughter and fun has been a massive antidote to the former.

I have learnt many things about myself and others during the trip, dealing with death and dying, dealing with hurt and rejection, accepting different opinions, witnessing maliciousness and intolerance, observing Christian bashing,  church in terminal decline etc. etc. Negativity however is not my game I hate it with a passion, why are some churches struggling? Look in the mirror would be my reply.

And so as I leave this final blog before ordination with you and I thank all who read any one of my many blogs, I hope that you may have been encouraged by a rather eccentric lay person to have confidence in your faith, to rejoice in the truthfulness of God, to understand life does not always need to be serious and in the words of my Father, ‘Always think Positive’. The biggest gratitude goes to my family, I love them all dearly without them this would not have happened. Thanks Be To God!

God may not be leading you to ordination, but he is leading you to something, you have a choice to be led by him or by something else, it really is that simple. My life is led by God and it is fed by God, it has been life changing it has been so wonderful to share it with you who read my blogs.

Please pray for all those being ordained this Petertide, both Deacons and Priests.

Thank-you for reading and see you on the other side of ordination,

Much love

Alextheanglican.

Pre Match Nerves

Pre Match Nerves

Hi friends,

I don’t know if you have strolled around your local cemetery recently after all they can be rather unsettling places with a, certain unease about them.

I am now in the last few weeks of un-ordained life and that is rather unsettling and although I have kept myself very busy the emotional roller coaster doesn’t appear to be abating.

This morning I found myself slow stepping around the cemetery which is just a hundred yards or so from my new home. I have found a rather picturesque route that brings me into the graveyard via a pretty little wood that at the moment accommodates a vast harvest of flowering white garlic. A Heron has made himself a very substantial nest high in the trees which makes for a fantastic watch tower for the modest river and livestock that flows through gently on its way. I have what feels like a significant incline to negotiate which in reality is probably only a slight gradient yet is more than enough for me to blow a little and indeed a little bit more. After scrambling over a few rocks and over intimidating tree roots I make it into the lower end of the cemetery grounds. In this remote corner where the deceased have long been dead I have a multitude of options and this occasion I take a right along a path that leads to some of the oldest and most dilapidated tombstones in the Borough.

I never considered it before but in my wisdom I have decided that cemeteries hold much sadness but also much beauty and over the last few weeks I have been drawn to this place to consider my future ministry.  The recent walks have been thought provoking as I think about all my Argos work friends and wonder if I am now nothing but a distant memory. The company email account is now well and truly closed and if it wasn’t for social media would our friendships be over? I certainly hope not.

And then the landscape and my minds attention focuses’ on the intimidating and enormous gravestones. This corner is very old, paths are rapidly decaying, I found a grave from 1862 the oldest one I have spotted so far, and it is apparent that not many people come down this way anymore. Many of the graves are badly damaged the stone inscriptions are so badly eroded they are unreadable and the names have a distinct feeling of long ago, there is a Walter, and a Florence at least 3 or four Alfred’s, and even a Fanny thrown in for good measure (or maybe a little humor) . Flowers aren’t in this part of the cemetery anymore; the only thing growing is the grass. Are all the loved ones deceased?

As I climb the hill I think about the ordination ceremony, I desperately want to talk to anyone who will listen to me talk about it but I fear I am boring people to death and intentionally make the effort to say nothing. I think about some of my friends who will be ordained alongside me for whom life appears much more stressful than my own right now. I’m mad, in fact disappointed at myself by offering what I thought were words of encouragement to a dear colleague which in fact had the opposite effect and actually exacerbated my friends feeling of frustration and anxiety. Others have personal worries and concerns and I just feel awful that I can’t do anything to help other than to keep my mouth shut and not put my foot in it again. The butterflies come and go and pass through like the Red Arrows over a palatial palace or airshow somewhere and before I know it I have arrived in a more lively part of the cemetery.

Fletcher my dog pulls on the leash, a sure sign something is stirring and indeed I wasn’t to be disappointed as ahead two large rabbits disperse a bit like the aforementioned Red Arrows breaking away from a formation. They run for their lives and dive into the sanctuary of some well matured bracken thicket bushes of some description fearing that Fletcher would eat them alive. Where I walk now there is more recent gravestones from the seventies and eighties and dead rotting flowers are apparent across the landscape, I am stopped in my tracks by the most splendid gravestone that wouldn’t have looked out of place at The Vatican and on further inspection I discover it was that of a young professional boxer who died at the mere age of just 24.

If my friends don’t come to my ordination will it still be special? I think to myself. Why on earth am I thinking that? I also consider. What if it rains heavily on the day will all the guests fit into the house? What if there is not enough cake and teabags? What if I get someone’s name wrong during a funeral? What if I get the time wrong for a Baptism visit? What if the vicar thinks I am utterly incompetent? What if I fail my interview with the Bishop? What if, what if, what if? When does the roller coaster ride ever finish? Does it ever finish?

As I get to the top of the hill I can look down into the valley and many hundreds if not thousands of gravestones can be seen. It is a sad picture but has a real essence of beauty about it, so many lives, so many deaths, so many stories, and so many tears over so many years. And as I look at the tombstones I read about lost children, parents, brothers and sisters. Flowers are plentiful and great attention is paid to the little piece of ground where loved ones are laid to rest. Large mounds of earth with beautiful tributes and mementoes lay on freshly dug soil and I am reminded about the fragility of our existence and limited time on this planet.

I leave the stillness of the cemetery grounds to the rumbling noise of the busy road for the short stroll down to my house. I am shaken out of my meditation and reflection of what has passed before me and what lies ahead. The mind is alive, the will is strong, the reality is difficult and the future is nerve wracking.

As I approach my front door, I l think about the words I have heard a lot over the last few days I keep hearing, John 15:16 ‘You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit--fruit that will last’.That encourages me, and troubles me, it excites me and frightens me, and I suspect I am not alone in feeling this among the ordinand community being ordained in just a few weeks’ time. Please pray for us all.

May God be with them, with me and with you, now and always.

See you,

Alextheanglican.

A FREE MAN

A FREE MAN

Well hello,

                 It has been all of eleven day since I left the world of retail and became a free man, or so I thought. Simple daily tasks like, washing, ironing, letting the guinea pigs out, cutting the lawn, finding the start button on the vacuum cleaner, and preparing meals all now feels under my remit! Not that the good lady has insisted I  have happily taken on these responsibilities as  I kind of feel obligated as I enjoy my sabbatical from working life for the next month or so.Whilst Sarah continues working and the children return to studies I like to think of myself as a gentleman between jobs whilst the family keep referring to me as unemployed and sponging off Mother!

So whilst I am ‘resting’ I have started to enjoy my new surroundings with a little less stress now that shop keeping is no longer my profession. I was so relaxed a day or two ago that I found myself announcing to my family that next year I would be entering Britain’s Got Talent performing the fine art of contemporary dance. As I demonstrated a few moves in my dressing gown and pyjamas I gracefully pranced around the lounge at our new home, the children told me sit down and be quiet I did what I was told although I thought that was what I was meant to tell them!

I have discovered a few local walks and the woods around the corner from t’vicarage would be lovely if it wasn’t for the incredible variety of dog excrement that makes the muddy corridor to natures wonderful creations high risk. I need a keen eye and the navigational skills of S.A.S proportions are required. During my early morning walks I pass through a moss infused pathway and wave good morning to a neighbour whose dog barks at me aggressively on a daily basis which causes me to consider a re-route and sympathize at the noise which disturbs the sleepy neighbourhood which is yet to awaken!

We don’t really have direct neighbours due to the location of the house so my friendly instincts have only extended, to the lady at the garage where I get my loaf and bread for two pounds. Also the occasional hello with the local undertaker who un-unnervingly stopped his funeral procession to briefly say hello the other day was thoughtful. There is a man who runs a flower van at the gate of the crematorium, Its bit like a mobile butty shop only with flowers, his rotund body contorts as he leans against his workplace waiting for visitors to hand over money for daffodils and tulips and other flowery things before entering their loved ones places of rest. He looked at me enthusiastically as a potential customer initially and now as I pass him daily on the way to the garage he looks at me with nonchalance and distain. I offer a friendly hello which on a rare occasion I get a muted response but nothing to suggest we will become great friends over the coming years!

Down on one of the lanes my naivety was soon broken when I thought the Mr Kipling silver cupcake holders were purely the laziness of the local’s failure to dispose of their 'picnic' rubbish considerately, I now of course realize its rather more sinister than this as silver foil indeed litters much of the walkway. In the dead of night presumably the walkway becomes a den of iniquity for those who like to administer themselves with narcotics slightly more dangerous and addictive than Omega 3. The stroll down to the cemetery also makes me think about death and resurrection, on one side, the view is of endless gravestones and gardens and remembrance. On the other drug fuelled paraphernalia, silver foils and a large squashed bird of some description that has been so compressed into the tarmac it has no distinguishable features other than it used to fly. Did that flight of fancy make to heaven or not I wonder?

I am using my free time wisely I have watched Jeremy Kyle help the helpless assuming it is only a matter of time before he also raises the dead. I watched in awe and wonder as a man on ITV cooked some Asparagus in butter, I have ironed my socks in preparation for the big day, and I have been reading the autobiography of Bear Grylls, a man similar to myself, physically perfect, highly mobile, king of adventure and a devout Christian! I forgot how nice it is to read books of a non-theological nature. As I lied in the bath contentedly reading Bear the water had cooled enough that my blood red skin had returned to a safe enough temperature that my life was no longer at risk, I haven’t done that for ages.

I even watched a film with my daughter, it was a tense, intellectual thriller entitled Pudsey the dog, sadly I lost the will to live after sixty minutes and after falling in and out of a comatose state even my daughter agreed it was a little tedious.

The next week is very busy, I have to go to the library, I need a ‘new’ part worn tire for my driver’s side, and I need to post a letter! Seriously I am rather busy, a trip to Salford, a trip to Ambleside, then to Anglesey and then to Mirfield all in the next seven days are things I am looking forward to, I told you I was like Bear Grylls!

Beyond that is the big day, Ordination on the 4^th July, but for now I am trying to put that to the back of mind and focus on the here and now. I unpacked the clergy shirts and gave them the once over with the Morphy Richards hotplate and as I ironed I thought, Me a Clergyman, you having a laugh? I seem to have more white clergy collars than St Paul’s Cathedral, if you need one let me know!!

Work is still in the mind as I weirdly expect to be called into an Argos meeting or something to pick up where I left off but deep down I know that is not going to happen. Do I miss the world of retail? Not yet! It is nice waking up in a morning not needing to rush, to take time with prayers and to enjoy a bit of ‘me' time. I am feeling very content at the moment and truly blessed reflecting with pride and affection on what has passed before me. I can’t wait to begin work as Fr Alex, and as the diary starts filling with tasks of a church nature so does the realization that ordained life is just around the corner. 

In Bears’ book he writes a lot about achievement, he has a really great story to tell and I highly recommend his book, but whilst we really are nothing alike I found a shared faith and a moment he reflected upon rather inspiring. Grylls broke his back in a failed parachute landing not long after successfully passing out as an SAS soldier and he subsequently left the elite forces due to his injuries.   Despite this his determination to make the most of his life was driven by an incredible self-will to achieve his goalsand whilst I haven’t climbed Everest or parachuted out of a helicopter, I haven’t wrestled with dangerous creatures or jumped of cliff tops, I have pushed myself physically and mentally to get this far. Both myself and the man of mud, sweat and tears have a common denominator and that is faith. He writes, ‘My Christian faith says that I have nothing to fear or worry about. All is well’. At this moment in time I couldn’t disagree with him in the slightest!

Till next time,

Peace brothers and sisters

Alextheanglican!