Be safe. Be safe. Be safe. These words have become my main prayer for the child growing steadily inside me. It’s what I wish to it in prenatal yoga class when our instructor gives us a moment to send the baby a message. It’s what I pray with every twinge, every uncomfortable stretch of ligaments…
I read Micha Boyett’s new book Found: A Story of Questions, Grace, and Everyday Prayer in just under two weeks, when Cara came to stay carrying an advanced copy with her, and graciously let me borrow it from her before she’d finished so that I could soak up the words. I took pages of notes…
The Tynemouth Priory sits on a cliff top spot overlooking the wide and grey North Sea. It’s just a collection of lovely ruins now, the few rooms of the castle open to the birds who make their nests in the stones, and as we walk down the grassy nave of the church, the sky is…
When I was seventeen, our church youth group was allowed to lead one of the evening services. We came from two small traditional Anglican churches in neighbouring Oxfordshire villages, but we’d been spending our Easter and summer vacations at massive charismatic youth camps, sleeping in tents for short hours in between all night worship sessions…
I’ve been part of many churches over the years. It all started in a baptist church in South London, where my parents held a chubby bald me as I was dedicated in that community. Then there was the church of my childhood, with it’s uncomfortable pews, cups of weak tea and some of the warmest…
I had lunch recently with a lovely friend who goes to our church and is in a minority. Ours is an international church so in many ways we’re so wonderfully diverse. But we’re also mostly white, mostly straight and mostly well-off. And so I sat and listened hard. Because I wanted to hear what it…
