I am writing this on 16 May. According to the test kit I have Covid, and so does Chris. Her symptoms are a bit more obvious – but mine  are so similar to my usual asthma when the rape seed is in bloom, that once I had taken a test and found it to be negative, I just assumed it was asthma and carried on as normal. It was only when Chris tested positive that I checked again and found that we were both infected. So we hope we have not infected others and I’m annoyed because I’m stuck at home and even though we have learned that so much of life can move online – it’s just not the same as being amongst people. 

As I use some of this enforced time at home to advance plan some of the worship for June, I realise that three years ago I was using this same material to plan worship that would only be delivered by post or online. It includes the great story from Genesis where Abraham welcomes three visitors to his encampment – I noted that welcoming strangers was not allowed! To live through a pandemic brought great changes and it has continued to do so. For me, at the moment, Covid is an irritant. But for many people it has brought immense grief and totally re-shaped the way they imagined these years would be lived. There seems to be a lack of confidence amongst us, an intense harking back to how things used to be (or at least how we wish-remember those days). Yet some things will not change – still the stranger seeks a welcome and God continues to visit with purpose.

As I flick between 2020 and 2023, the tune I’m singing is a favourite one:-

Here in this place, new light is streaming,
now is the darkness vanished away. …

Gather us in – the lost and forsaken,
gather us in – the blind and the lame.
Call to us now, and we shall awaken,
we shall arise at the sound of our name. 

I love the hope within it, even as we recognise our different abilities. The image of new light streaming into a place creating new images and perceptions. And as the hymn comes to a close it takes us out of our buildings and heavenly dreams to concentrate on the here and now, the places we are set, the communities we are called to love. 

Not in the dark of buildings confining,
not in some heaven, light years away,
but here in this place, the new light is shining;
now is the Kingdom, now is the day.
Gather us in – and hold us forever,
gather us in – and make us your own.
Gather us in – all peoples together,
fire of love in our flesh and our bone.

© Marty Haughan, GIA Publications, Inc, 1982

May we each know God’s light streaming into our lives. 

be blessed