Not only but also

October 11, 2016October 11, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

This poem emerged from another solitary walk. My feet beat against a hard path, and as I walked somewhere quiet, and beautiful, these words – and this pattern of words – began to emerge.
I had been thinking about the ways we sometimes speak of God, the things we tend to see God in, the images and symbols we use, and the things we tend to overlook. I had been wondering why we pick the things we do, and what might happen if we looked at other, less promising subjects, and wondered if they too could tell us something about God. What would we see if we looked differently?
It was a kind of walking contemplative practice, one that I find fruitful.
By the time I got home the words were beating their own footsteps in my head, and I picked up some scrap paper, and wrote this:

NOT ONLY

Not only in these things
is the Glory of God to be found.

Not only these, but also
in the curved world bending itself
to a newly opened eye,
and the longing that clouds its closing.

Not only in the high and echoing hills
where rocks raise themselves
beneath the shutterfast
night and day of heaven,
but also in the long grey
half-light when dawn will not break.

Not only in the hands of the potter,
but in the cracked rim of a dropped bowl,
and in the one who could not hold it.

Not only in the mystery of words
and the fullness of music and
the pull of a brush through paint,
but in the fragments of self
we leave and find daily –
folded among shirts, and papers,
and hands on a still lap.
Not only in the bright beauty of stars,
but also in the black strangeness of the
space between.

Not only in the white smoke of the waterfall,
but also in the dustsmell of first drops after drought.
Not only in the green fluidity of the forest
or light through a new leaf.
Not only light but shadow
not only sea but dry stones
not only abundance but desert.
Not only
but also.

The photos above are of the Preseli Hills in West Wales, with a view of Carn Ingli – the Hill of the Angels – and also Mwnt beach, a departure point for ancient pilgrims to Ireland.

Sunday Retold – Naaman and the river

October 6, 2016October 7, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

It’s time for the next Sunday Retold, and this week’s readings include the story of Naaman from Aram.
You can find all the readings following these links:

2 Kings 5: 1-3, 7-15;2 Timothy 2.8-15; Luke 17:1-19.

The story of Naaman is rich in so many ways. Reading it alongside the Luke passage – the healing of the ten lepers – brings two aspects into particular focus: how we view those not of our tribe, or group, or belief system; and the practice of gratitude.

It’s easy to favour people who are like us, who are part of our group, whatever that may be. It’s easy too for us to slide into hostility, a feeling of superiority, a certainty that we alone are right. In both of these stories, we see God not limited by our categories and barriers, but working in the lives of two people who were regarded as outsiders, enemies even.

Naaman was leader of the armies who were fighting against Israel – as clear an enemy as you could imagine. Yet, he was a human being with a secret need, and a secret fear – of leprosy, which would have put an end to his military career, and made him an outcast. That the enemy of God’s people should be stricken in this way might be something to rejoice over – but not for the young slave he had captured. She had reason to ill-wish her master, but she did not. She conspired to bless him instead. It was three servants, or slaves, who play a key role in this story. They are the ones who move the narrative forward, who nudge the powerful towards right action. The general does well to listen to the one who apparently has no power.

Naaman, who arrived in great power and pomp, causing a diplomatic incident, was not greeted by the prophet in the way he expected – but by a servant. He was asked to take off his robes, his armour, his signs of status, and expose his vulnerable flesh. He had to wash in a foreign river, when he had fine waterways of his own. He would have to bend down, bow into the water.
And then, he was healed, and then, what ripples flowed out from that action. The fates of nations hinged on this act which began with the words of a slave-girl.

One of the ripples was gratitude. And that is the theme of the Gospel story. The gratitude of one who was not part of Israel, had a different theology, different worship practices. Nonetheless, he sought and found healing with Jesus, and was the only one of the ten who returned to say thank you. The nine who were on home territory did not. Perhaps the foreigner could teach us something, here.

Gratitude is a powerful and life-affirming discipline – and it is a discipline. Gratitude sometimes flows naturally, but most of the time, we need to remind ourselves to be thankful. We are so used to problem-solving, that we only see the things we think are broken, and cease to see what is good. When we do, things shift. Gratitude to God and to others can transform things – and not just for us, but for those around us, too.

And, to pick up the earlier theme again, perhaps we can consider how to bless those we think of as not like us, how to break down hostility – even if we find it in our own hearts – and do good to others. Perhaps, like Namaan, we can also learn to receive good from the foreigner, the one we might regard as of low status.

What would the world be like if more of us lived out these two disciplines – blessing the other, and gratitude?

The following extract is from The Bible Retold

Please feel free to use these extracts if they help you, saying where they are from.

NAAMAN FROM ARAM (2 Kings 5)

The little Israelite slave-girl was brushing out the hair of her mistress – the wife of Naaman, whose armies had captured her and brought her to Aram.
“My lady, why are you sad?” she asked.
“My husband the general’s skin is growing worse. It must be leprosy.” She replied, weeping.
“If only my master would visit the prophet of Samaria – he would be cured!” So Naaman went in great state, with his horses and chariots, attendants and guards, through enemy territory to Elisha’s house. But Elisha did not go to greet his mighty guest. He sent a slave with a message “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and you’ll be healed.” Naaman shook with fury.
“What kind of service is this from a holy man? I expected prayers and the laying on of hands! But he just sends this puny messenger! I could have washed at home!” And he turned on his heels to leave. But his servant intervened
“My lord, if the prophet had asked something hard of you, would you not have done it? So why not do this simple thing?” And so Naaman did. He washed in the Jordan seven times, and as he came out into the bright sunlight, he looked down at his skin. It was smooth, perfect, like that of a child. Beaming, he rushed back to Elisha, opening his treasure chest. “Now I know that the God you serve is the true one. Nothing else comes close.” “That is reward enough – you may keep your gold!” Elisha replied. And Naaman went home, telling everyone of God’s great goodness.

And, from Prayers and Verses

May we learn to appreciate different points of view:

To know that the view from the hill is
different from the view in the valley;
the view to the east is different from the
view to the west;
the view in the morning is different from
the view in the evening;
the view of a parent is different from the
view of a child;
the view of a friend is different from the
view of a stranger;
the view of humankind is different from
the view of God.

May we all learn to see what is good, what is true,
what is worthwhile.

O God, help us not to despise or oppose what we do not understand.
William Penn 1644-1718

The olive tree I thought was dead
has opened new green leaves instead
and where the landmines tore the earth
now poppies dance with joy and mirth.

The doves build nests, they coo and sigh
beside the field where corn grows high
and grapes hang heavy on the vine,
and those who fought share bread and wine.

Lord, because you have made me, I owe you the whole of my love;
because you have redeemed me, I owe you the whole of myself;
because you have promised so much, I owe you all of my being.
I am wholly yours by creation: make me all yours, too, in love.

Anslem, 1033-1109

May we enter into God’s conspiracies of blessing this week.
Keat’s Autumn is on my mind at the moment, with the wonderful phrase, “conspire to bless”!

Days

October 6, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

Sharing again for National Poetry Day. Writing this poem moved me from hurry and worry to spaciousness, to the time between the ticks of the clock. I hope it restores you, too.

Andrea Skevington

overflowing flowers.jpg

Hurry. I am ill suited to it – especially as the days grow hot. I wrote this poem as a kind of rebellion against the feeling that my time was constrained, not my own, running away from me while I seemed to have none of it for the important things.

So I snatched time, and wrote. As I wrote, as I paid attention to what was around me, I felt the time slow. I felt myself breathe again. I felt the hard shells of the seconds soften, crack, and open like the seeds in the ground – become things of infinite possibility again. I realised that, although my home is not the manor described in the poem, there are ways in which it is. I can inhabit my days as if they were timeless, spacious, connected. By slowing, by paying attention, by breathing, I found what I needed. Most of…

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Now, as the days of darkness come

October 4, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

As many days as I can, I walk by the River Deben near my home. Sometimes I walk with someone, but often I walk alone. Alone, the experience is different, opened up differently. It becomes a quiet form of prayer – one which begins with an openness, a question
– Hello, what is there that I need to notice today?
Alone becomes companionable, the openness becomes openness to one who is always there.
I look at the birds of the air, among other things, although, this day, it was more the birds of the water.
It seemed to me as I watched the cormorants that the growing darkness of the season was maybe something I needed to dive into, under the bright surface, that there was treasure even here, even here.

If you wish, you can listen to the poem.

Now, as the days of darkness come

Now, as the days of darkness come,
I see the slick oily surface of the water,
low light skims it like bright stones,
as the geese arrive in broken, twisted skeins.

And there is the egret
in its startling whiteness,
probing the mud,
and a pair of cormorants,
dark as pitch,
forming their strange low circles.
Then, as I watch, they slip down beneath
the bright surface, into hidden water.
And I, too, I hold my breath,
while they are hidden, in wonder
at the unexpected airiness of their bodies,
sustaining them, in that cold water, for so long.

Sunday Retold – Small Seeds, from Luke 17

September 30, 2016September 30, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

Please feel free to use this material if you would like to, saying where it’s from.

Andrea Skevington

sowing

This coming Sunday’s gospel reading – Luke 17:5-7 – talks of tiny amounts of faith, faith as small as a seed, which can accomplish so much in the world. A little context is helpful here. The verse before talks of the necessity to forgive someone, and to keep on forgiving them. On hearing this, the disciples ask for their faith to be increased.

It is a hard task to forgive, and maybe the disciples think they need vast amounts of faith to be able to do it. These verses are difficult to understand, to see how they hang together. Perhaps Jesus’ answer suggests that, if they have any faith at all, it is enough. His story of the servant and the master may follow on from the same train of thought. The work of forgiveness is an everyday necessity for the follower of Jesus. Everyday work does not require special…

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Sunday Retold – Small Seeds, from Luke 17

September 29, 2016July 21, 2023 / andreaskevington / 2 Comments

Sunday Retold

The Lord’s Prayer (11:1-4), has already been recorded in Luke – forgive us, as we forgive. There, we begin to see how the flow of forgiveness works. We need forgiveness, and we need to forgive. Our own forgiveness is not a static thing, a prize to be acquired. Neither is forgiveness conditional, but, I believe, Jesus describes a process. This is how it works – as a flow of forgiveness. As we join in, seeking to pass on what we receive, we become more like Jesus. He forgives, and so we are freed to. We find the courage and humility to ask for, and give, forgiveness. We both receive and give. It is hard work for us, but it is the work we must do every day – like the work of the servants.

Seeds have tremendous capacity coiled within them. Small as they are, they contain all that is needed for a new plant to grow. It is all there, already. Jesus often uses seeds to talk about the life of the kingdom. They seem a perfect illustration. So small, so unassuming, they need to fall to the ground and break. Then we see that they are in fact breaking open, bursting with new life, with a shoot and a root and a leaf ready to unfurl.

In The Bible Retold , I have the slightly longer version of the mustard seed from Matthew’s gospel.

“How shall I tell you about God’s kingdom? It’s like a man who digs down in the earth and plants a tiny mustard seed – it’s so small that a puff of wind could take it out of the palm of his hand. Yet it grows and spreads into the largest plant in the garden, with branches where the birds can come and shelter.”

And here are some extracts from Prayers and Verses to help us pray through this gospel reading. We think of the smallness of the seeds of kingdom life in our own lives and the life of our community, and of the patience needed to wait and tend their growth. We remember the seeds with gratitude, aware of their potential. We think too of our own need for forgiveness, and remember it before we condemn another.

Help me to be patient as I wait for your kingdom
and your righteousness:
as patient as a farmer who trusts that the rains
will come in their season,
and that the land will produce its harvest.
Keep my hopes high.
Help me to pray to you and to praise you.

The Lord is good to me,
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need,
The sun, the rain, the appleseed.
The Lord is good to me.
Attributed to John Chapman, planter of orchards 1774-1845

I told God everything:
I told God about all the wrong things I had done.
I gave up trying to pretend.
I gave up trying to hide.
I knew that the only thing to do was
to confess.

And God forgave me.

Based on Psalm 32:5

We remember also that there are no small things in the kingdom. Apparently small things have tremendous power. They are enough. What small things can you do today?

We can do no great things,
Only small things with great love.
Saint Teresa of Calcutta 1910-1997

“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant.” Robert Louis Stevenson

With thanks to my homegroup – a small group who meet and pray and read gospels and sometimes cry and always laugh together. Sowers of seeds, all.

Publication Day – USA and Canada

September 28, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

Publication day – it’s officially here! Today’s the day these two books, The Bible Story Retold, and Prayers and Verses, are launched in the USA and Canada.

I would like to thank the many wise and kind friends who have helped me complete both of these books – they grew out of the life of a community, and I hope they will nourish communities in their turn.Thank you to all who have talked through ideas, lent me books, answered historical questions, entered into discussion on many subjects, and shared tea and prayer with me. I appreciate it so much – as I also appreciate the long-distance, virtual community we are developing online.

I hope these books will be of use, both as individual texts and together .

I hope they will help youngsters, families, and churches share the wonderful stories of a people discovering the love of God. I hope they will be a blessing to many.

Here is a little snippet from Prayers and Verses

In all my thinking and speaking and doing

this day,

Help me be loving,

help me be peaceful,

help me be kind.

Fig

September 27, 2016September 27, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

Last autumn, I went to a warm and inspiring poetry morning in Burgh parish schoolroom – a tiny but beautiful space on the edge of the ancient churchyard. It was part of a series of such mornings, but I was only able to make this one. The people there made me so welcome, and we shared tea and cake and some beautiful poetry on the theme of Autumn, which we had all experienced on our way. As I left, one of the other people there kindly offered me a fig from her garden. It was most precious. I took it home and baked it with a little sherry and honey, and eating it was an act of thanksgiving – for her kindness, for the morning, the welcome, the poetry, the beauty of the season, for life.
As it baked, I wrote this.

Thank you again.

Fig

The fig is heavy in my cupped hand,
warm, still, from the sun,
purple and green.
I walk slowly, for the skin
is thin, ready to burst open.
I feel the juice, the seeds,
move inside, sway with me
as I walk

from the room.

There was cake,
and bunting,
and people,
and we read together – Keats’
“Ode to Autumn”,
while the hawberries glowed
from one window,
while the brown stubblefield sloped
through the other.

How rich, how full
this life.
An unexpected gift,
fragile in my hand.

Prayers and Verses – how this book can work together with The Bible Story Retold

September 23, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

It’s nearly time for these two books to be released in the USA and Canada – official publication date September 28th!

Andrea Skevington

prayers and verses cover

Today, I am sharing some more extracts from my new book, which is due for publication next Friday, 17th June (UK), and September 28th (USA).

I thought I would show you how this book of prayers could be used alongside The Bible Retold – the two books can be read independently, of course, but I hope you will see that they could be quite helpful, powerful even, read together. I am drawing some examples from the second chapter. In the retelling, this chapter covers most of the well known stories from the later part of the Bible book of Genesis

The story opens with Abram setting out on a journey, called away from all he had known before. The prayers focus on our new beginnings, on uncertain ways, on “Life’s journey”.

From The Bible Story Retold:

Abraham took one last look behind him at the great city…

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Light

September 21, 2016September 21, 2016 / andreaskevington / Leave a comment

It’s nearly the equinox.

It is noticeable now, how quickly the light is drawing back from the edges of the days. Outside jobs cannot be left. A torch is sometimes useful. I do mourn the loss of light, but know that the darkness has its compensations – lamplight, wood fires, stars.

Below is a poem I wrote on Sizewell beach. The photos above are from Walberswick, a little along the coast, where the North Sea has the same dark beauty. I sat on the beach as the light faded, both watching and experiencing the loss of it, and the spread of the deeper blue of early night. I saw my field of vision narrowing, and had a sensation of being, therefore, somehow at the centre, at the focus of what light there was. An illusion, of course, based on the wonderful way the eye works – but a powerful and helpful one. It enabled me to get off the beach when I finally turned my back on the sea. It is like having a lamp for your feet.

While it lasted, that sense of being at the centre – one of many centres – was a place of prayer, a sacred place. I was aware of God, the source of light – and also of the light, the sea and the sky that were around me. It was one of those times outside time, when we simply are, and are aware of that which is greater than us – aware of our own smallness, and our own participation in something vast, and beautiful.

Light, and its absence, have been on my mind as I have been writing about Jesus’ I AM sayings, particularly “I am the Light of the World”. Perhaps that’s why this villanelle surfaced in my memory.

It is a loose interpretation of the verse form, with its three line stanzas and repeated lines, circling around, but it was the one that seemed to fit what the poem was trying to be.

LIGHT

Here, quiet on this stony shore, light
drains from the edges first. Blue deepens to blue,
leaving one pool of brightness against the night,

as the starlight, faint at first, shines bright
on the black waves that rise and fold,
here, quiet on this stony shore. Light

flecks the foam that trembles and shines white,
as the circle of darkness turns closer,
leaving one pool of brightness against the night.

Now, in the blackness, bright birds stop their flight
and shut their starfilled eyes against the dark.
Here, quiet on this stony shore, light

shines on white pebbles, shimmering and starbright
as shadows seep and spread like tar rising,
leaving one pool of brightness against the night.

The stars, the foam, and the pebbles shine with light
that washes and wells and rises
here, quiet on this stony shore. Light
leaving one pool of brightness against the night.

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Andrea Skevington

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Author: andreaskevington

Not only but also

Sunday Retold – Naaman and the river

Days

Now, as the days of darkness come

Sunday Retold – Small Seeds, from Luke 17

Sunday Retold – Small Seeds, from Luke 17

Publication Day – USA and Canada

Fig

Prayers and Verses – how this book can work together with The Bible Story Retold

Light