Jenny’s letter 11th January
Dear Friends,
There is a great deal happening in the life of our church at the moment, and some of it is deeply encouraging.
This coming Sunday at 11.00 am we will be celebrating both baptism and confirmation, with Bishop Julie. These moments matter. They are tangible signs of new hope, visible reminders that God is still at work among us. In a season when growth can feel slow or hidden, here are shoots pushing through the soil.
At the same time, many of us are tired. Last week the Christmas trees were finally taken down and removed. Under the direction of Ian and Ian there were many long, physical hours in church: de-trimming, shifting, sorting, and thanks to Natalie on her phone and keyboard (whilst working full time), co-ordinating collections with the various organisations involved. It is thankless, exhausting work, and I am hugely grateful to everyone who helped, to every person who quietly made sure the practical details were seen through. This kind of faithful service often goes unnoticed, but it is part of what sustains our shared life.
If you are feeling a bit irritable, low, or simply worn down, you are not alone. The cold weather doesn’t help. The darker days linger. Energy is in short supply. If I am honest, I was saddened that so few people came to the Epiphany Carol Service last week though I understand the weather did not help. It was, for me, one of the most beautiful moments of Christmas: quiet, reflective, and rich with meaning. But perhaps that, too, tells us something about the season we are in. Thanks to Andrew and the Barnabas Consort for their fine ministry. I think we do not always appreciate the rich musical jewel we have in our midst.
Christmas does not end with the decorations coming down – we are still in the midst of Epiphany and will be for some weeks. Epiphany is about light: light revealed, light noticed, light followed. It is about learning to see where God is at work, sometimes in ways that are gentle rather than dramatic. The star does not shout; it shines. The wise men travel slowly. Revelation takes time.
So here is my gentle challenge to us all: look for the light. Not in grand gestures or constant busyness, but in small signs of hope — in a baptismal candle, in someone choosing to re-affirm their faith, in the quiet dedication of volunteers who show up even when they are tired, and in moments of rest, when you allow yourself to stop rather than push on regardless.
Rest is not failure; it is faithfulness to the body and mind God has given you. Jesus himself understood this rhythm. In Mark’s Gospel we repeatedly see the pattern of intense activity followed by deliberate withdrawal — after teaching and healing, Jesus invites his disciples to “come away to a quiet place and rest for a while”, recognising that this is not indulgence but what the human body and spirit genuinely need. And if you have the energy, look around for where you might encourage someone else. Sometimes hope grows because it is noticed.
The light shines on, and it is enough to guide us forward. This Sunday, as we gather to celebrate new beginnings. Let us remember that God is still planting seeds among us — even in winter, even when the ground feels hard. With love and blessings,
