St Brendon

Today I sat in a ‘traditional 1980’s church, the type I grew up in. The type my Dad use to lead and the type Id fallen asleep in too many times. Yet this time it was different.

It was all about supporting ‘the Abbyfield community project’ of which Richard Smith (of Colchester Boiler room community) is an employee. As I sat on the front row (yep the front row) the sight was strangely exciting. Behind the sea of gray hair, shocking electro piano backed with per-recorded electro drum lead worship, under the standard collage style hanging material, was something quite beautiful. 3 Church of England vicars, two Methodist ministers, one Baptist minister and a united reform fella (who didn’t quite make it) and our very own Richard Smith. All together to back a church planting, community building, relationship growing thing. It was beautiful.

Yeah I could tear into the meeting layout, the stand up sit down, Yes and amen sandwich. We could laugh at the oldest of old skool songs or threat about the lack of anyone under 55. But the fact remains 6 churches, in the same building supporting the greater good and loving Jesus. Simple, and beautiful

After a mammoth week of a lot of hours, confusion and disappointment. The realisation of not knowing much and not having anyone to talk about it with, tonight I heard a prayer.

This is the prayer or St Brendon the 2^nd most famous Irish Saint (apparently) He was famous for setting out a boat to sea, not knowing where he would land but trusting that God had it all in his hands. This will be the prayer for the next ........I’m not sure how long.

Shall I abandon, O King of mysteries, the soft comforts of home? Shall I turn my back on my native land, and turn my face towards the sea?

Shall I put myself wholly at your mercy, without silver, without a horse, without fame, without honour? Shall I throw myself wholly upon You, without sword and shield, without food and drink, without a bed to lie on? Shall I say farewell to my beautiful land, placing myself under Your yoke?

Shall I pour out my heart to You, confessing my manifold sins and begging forgiveness, tears streaming down my cheeks? Shall I leave the prints of my knees on the sandy beach, a record of my final prayer in my native land?

Shall I then suffer every kind of wound that the sea can inflict? Shall I take my tiny boat across the wide sparkling ocean? O King of the Glorious Heaven, shall I go of my own choice upon the sea?

O Christ, will You help me on the wild waves?

St Brendon