You know those tiresome prods and annoying niggles that won’t go away? No, not the ones caused by ill-fitting shoes, I mean the Divine Poking Stick, that insistent nudging* by which God invites us to leave our comfortable, safe, tidy little lives and to join him somewhere less safe but so much more interesting.
* Disclaimer: God also employs the ‘boot up the backside’ method on occasion, so it’s best to pay attention to the nudges.
A couple of summers ago, I had been getting a lot prods and pushes, uneasy feelings of ‘What next?’, but what did they mean? Was God wanting me to be a missionary in Ouagadougou? Pretty sure not. To give up my career and become a wandering hermit? Don’t think so. To become a nun? Lawks-a-mercy, I hope not. I love the rhythm of prayer and work, but I’m more Whoopie Goldberg than Mother Theresa.
But the niggle would not go away, so I tried to scratch the itch at a diocesan ‘Explore’ day. And that is where, one blustery Saturday in November, I discovered Readers.
Reader ministry seemed a good fit with my skills and the opportunities in my parish so, after an interview to make sure that I wasn’t a complete nutter, I started Reader training the following September. But before I go further, what exactly is a Reader? Here’s something I stole from The Diocese of Derby website:
Readers are not ordained, but are licenced by the bishop to lead worship, helping to enable people to recognise Christ’s presence in every community. They do this both inside and outside the existing Church by:
- Explaining the Christian faith
- Responding pastorally to need
- Being role models for, and fellow disciples with, people seeking to live out the Christian gospel in today’s world
The role is often described as ‘theologically educated and culturally engaged.’
Sounds both scary and appealing. I mean, role model? Me? I don’t know about that. But I like the idea of being ‘theologically educated and culturally engaged’. Let’s look at those.
Theologically educated. Don’t worry. Theology just means ‘God talk’, and that’s my favourite kind. It’s good to learn about our faith – why we believe what we believe, why we do what we do – but be prepared to be challenged. It might turn out that the way we do things at our church is not the only way Christians do things, and perhaps those people who do it like that might not be entirely and completely wrong.
Reader training has revealed unexamined assumptions. (Spoiler alert: all my assumptions were wrong.) It can be uncomfortable to examine our practices and beliefs, but it’s good. What comes out the other end is a secure, mature faith which engages with real life, helping us to live out the Christian gospel in today’s world.
And that’s where the second part comes in. Culturally engaged. Yup. Gotta be. Reader training is not so that you can sit in an ivory tower for three years then hang a nice certificate on your wall. No education or training should ever be that. There must always be a ‘so that …’
Teachers train as teachers so that they can teach. Builders train as builders so that they can build. Janitors train as janitors so that they can janit. OK, that last one doesn’t work, but you catch my drift.
Readers train as readers so that they can read. Originally, that meant Morning and Evening Prayer. Readers were ‘invented’ in the 1800s to cope with the explosion in population, which meant an explosion in churches. (Not an actual explos … Do I really have to explain it?) With too few priests to go round, Readers led the services that did not require ‘magic hands’.
Of course, Readers today do much more than just read aloud from the book (though don’t knock it – daily office is a wonderous thing). Some are chaplains for schools, prisons or hospitals, some run church-based outreach projects, some preach and lead worship. Readers can even take funerals. (Father Ted, watch out!)
Anyway, back to that daunting September when I attended my first study day as a trainee Reader. I must have been nervous; I even put on make up! But I needn’t have worried. Turns out we’re a surprisingly friendly bunch of bods, all wanting to serve God and his children, which is a great basis for any group.
But what a mixed multitude! Some are in our 20s (not me) and others in our 70s (also not me), some have graduated from Bible college and others left school without a scrap of paper to their names, some so high church you can see the soles of their feet and others so low they’re subterranean. One guy commented that he’d just preached his first sermon to a congregation of three, two of whom were doing other parts of the service. Another belongs to a church100 times bigger which has four retired clergy and a retired bishop in the congregation. We really are Bassett’s Liquorice Allsorts!
I’ll end with thoughts from my favourite disciple, good ol’ foot-in-mouth Peter.
If you want to walk on water, you gotta get out of the boat. Don’t ask for safety. Don’t ask to keep your feet dry. Don’t ask for a guarantee of success. That’s not how it works. Ask for a command. And when he calls, don’t let him walk on by.“
Tell me to come to you.”
Come.”
Hi, I’m Fay. You can find a lot more writing like this, and a whole shedload of useful stuff, at The Reflectionary (www.reflectionary.org) and in my books (Amazon, Eden, Waterstones or from me – buy them all!) I teach Maths to pay my bills (and because I love it) and I write because my fingers get itchy. Home is a messy house just off the A6, which I blame on entropy (the messy house not the A6).
