Church Blog
News, Updates, Thoughts

‘Seasons of mist and mellow fruitfulness….’

I love the Autumn.  I love the multitude of colours as the trees turn, I love seeing the hedgerows packed with berries and good old English apples on the trees.  For me, Autumn speaks of promise.  Things might appear to be dying off, but it’s in the ripening and falling, that there is the certain promise of the new life that will return in Spring. 

It’s the time that we celebrate and express our thanks to God for the earth’s fruitfulness.  But what about our fruitfulness?  The fruitfulness of our lives?  Galatian 5.22-23 tells us

‘the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things.’

When I read this, it’s very easy for me to feel a little hopeless.  If only!  I might try very hard, but I cannot claim to have achieved all of these wonderful qualities, all of the time.  But there is some good news.  We don’t have to produce our own fruit!  In fact, we can’t.  No matter how hard we try, our very best efforts, we can no more produce our own fruit, than the stalk of a plant left lying uprooted on the ground can grow and flower and fruit and seed.  The writer of Galatians is talking about the fruit of the Spirit.  This is the fruit that can only grow when we put our roots down into God, and open ourselves to the nourishment of his Spirit. 

If you, like me, long to see more of this fruit in your life we can take steps to put ourselves in a place where the conditions are right for growth.  The Spirit of God will nourish us, as we deliberately turn ourselves towards him.  As we seek him with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength.  As we choose that we will worship, we will pray, we will listen to, and meditate on, the life-giving words that God has given us.    And as we look for, and enjoy, the Spirit of God at work in each other. 

A few weeks ago, on holiday in the Lake District, I noticed some tiny ferns growing out of a drystone wall.  I was struck by the tenacity of these delicate little plants, seeking out nutrients wherever they were to be found, hanging on tightly to the stone, when to all intents and purposes there was nothing much to keep them there.  As I looked more closely at them, it seemed to me that they were things of extraordinary beauty and strength, with an irrepressible impulse towards life, a determination to cling on and draw deeply. 

So, at this most fruitful time of the year, perhaps we can learn something from the natural world.  Let’s seek out the nourishment we need, spread our roots wide and deep, hold on tight if it looks like not much is happening, and trust the Spirit of God to produce a harvest of fruitfulness in our lives.

If Jesus had social media, it’s amusing to imagine how His ministry would have unfolded online. Would He have gone viral after the Sermon on the Mount? Would His miracles trend on TikTok, and would the disciples worry about follower counts?

Jesus would have had millions of "followers" online, but He would likely redefine the term. In Luke 9:23, He says, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” Followers wouldn’t be about boosting numbers but about genuine discipleship. A contemporary twist might be Jesus reminding His disciples, “Not everyone who follows Me on Instagram is truly My disciple” (a take on Matthew 7:21).

The Beatitudes could be an interesting Twitter thread: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. #blessed #kingdomcome”—a countercultural message in the age of "blessed" posts flaunting material success. As Augustine said, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” Jesus’ challenge to worldly values might not get the same viral response but would call people to deeper reflection.

Jesus’ parables would make excellent Instagram Reels. The Parable of the Lost Sheep could show Jesus finding the lost sheep, captioned: “He left the 99 to save the 1. #GoodShepherd.” Perhaps Peter would suggest adding puppies for more likes? Jesus might chuckle and say, “Feed my sheep” (John 21:17).

And then there’d be the inevitable trolls—possibly led by the Pharisees. Jesus’ calm wisdom would outshine them, just as He did when He said, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s” (Mark 12:17), leaving His critics speechless. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil,” but Jesus would always choose grace in His interactions.

Imagine livestreaming the feeding of the five thousand! Philip might stress over the lack of food, while Jesus could tweet: “Just bring Me the loaves and fish. #MultiplicationMiracle.” The crowd would probably take selfies with their loaves and fish, tagging Jesus in their posts.

On a more serious note, how would the events of the Passion unfold online? Viral videos of the Last Supper? The hashtag #TheCross trending? Karl Barth said, “God is God, and because of that, He is free to reveal Himself where and how He chooses.” No social media trend could contain the magnitude of Jesus’ redemptive work.

Wherever and however Jesus’ message appeared it would remain countercultural, calling people not to chase fleeting trends but to seek eternal truth. Whether spoken from a mountain or posted online, His words would still resonate: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). No hashtag needed.

Love and prayers

Revd Annette

If you were not able to get to the Harvest Festival service on Sunday (or even if you were), do try and find time to go into the church in the next few days and enjoy the stunning Harvest decorations - which I think are the best ever!  Jenny

Bible Study: occasionally members of our congregations ask about either reviving the "Faith Group" which ran for 5 or 6 years pre-Covid, or setting up regular Bible Study sessions.  I have been thinking about this, and discussing it with Annette.  Now that we have our lovely new Bibles and Study Bibles in Kintbury, I suggest we make good use of them.  Shall we try a fortnightly "Readings Review" - in which we spend time revisiting the set readings from the previous week, and reviewing in advance those for the week to come?  I have done this in a previous benefice, and we all found it helped us to become much more attentive and thoughtful listeners on a Sunday - both to the readings and to the sermon.  Because it isn't a continuous working through a book from the Bible (which also of course is really rewarding), it is accessible and relevant even when people are not able to commit to every session.  It also means that different people can lead different sessions (really useful if one happens to be preaching that weekend  . . . !)

We could get in a few sessions this side of Christmas, pick up again after New Year, then pause for Lent when there will be a Lent Course, and consider whether we wish to carry on after Easter.
Day / time can be agreed among those who are interested, but I suggest - during the winter at least - an afternoon session of about an hour and a half in St Mary's Room, with the kettle on . . .

If you would be interested, please email me - jennyveasey@hotmail.co.uk - and I'll set up a group chat so that we can find a day and time that suits us all.

I am fortunate to have four grandchildren. It has deepened my understanding of God and theology, but also added humour. Their presence has taught me valuable lessons about love, patience, trust, joy, and legacy, all while keeping me smiling and on my toes.

Looking at my grandchildren, I feel a boundless, unearned love simply because they exist. It has helped me grasp the depth of God's love for us. St. Augustine said, "God loves each of us as if there were only one of us," but God's love must also be as patient as a grandparent waiting for a toddler to put on their shoes! As humourist Sam Levenson said, "The reason grandchildren and grandparents get along so well is that they have a common enemy"—and sometimes that’s just the chaos of life itself.

Grandchildren test your patience in the most endearing ways. I find myself more understanding with them than I ever was as a parent. Recently two-year-old granddaughter was pushing the boundaries with her mum, insisting her daddy drove on the way home and even called her mummy ‘a big meanie ’ as she climbed into the driver’s seat.  Dave and I had to stifle our giggles when our daughter calmly responded with measured firmness, ‘No it is you who are the big meanie’. Karl Barth described God’s patience as “a waiting in active expectation.” I now see God as waiting for me with the same look I give my grandchildren when they tell me adamantly that they are not tired, they do not need to go to the toilet, they no longer like their dinner! Bill Cosby summed this up when he said, "Grandparents are God’s gift to children because they give unconditional love, cookies, and do all the things parents don’t." God’s grace, much like grandparenting, is full of patient love.

When they reach for my hand, they instinctively trust me without question. Jesus said, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). Their faith in me is like the faith God asks of us—simple and trusting. C.S. Lewis said, “Faith is the art of holding on to things in spite of your changing moods and circumstances.” Or, as Erma Bombeck put it more humorously, "A grandmother pretends she doesn't know who you are on Halloween." They trust, and that’s what matters.

My grandchildren wonder at the smallest things—a butterfly, the stars—their awe reminds me of the beauty of God's world. G.K. Chesterton wrote, “The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.” Gene Perret said: "What a bargain grandchildren are! I give them my loose change, and they give me a million dollars’ worth of pleasure." Their sense of joy in the simplest things reminds me that God invites us to experience creation with the same childlike awe and delight.

Finally, having grandchildren has heightened my awareness of legacy. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “The ultimate test of a moral society is the kind of world that it leaves to its children." And while I do feel a responsibility to pass on values and faith, I also know there’s room for fun.

In short, having grandchildren has taught me about God’s love, patience, and joy—all with a healthy dose of humour. Through them, I see more clearly the depth of God’s grace, and the importance of living a life of faith, sprinkled with laughter. May we always value our young people and their presence alongside us. 

Annette

I wonder if you happened to see the moon Tuesday night of last week – and if you noticed how bright and close it seemed.  Well – it looked close because it was close – a supermoon, when its elliptical circuit brings it to its nearest point to the Earth.  In fact if you were sleepless and watching in the early hours – you might have noticed it change shape – a partial eclipse.  And the September full moon, of course, is traditionally dubbed the Harvest Moon – paving the way to the traditional annual round of Harvest Festival services in our different churches.  Giving thanks for the great gift of the season of harvest, is a tradition that must surely go back to the earliest human settled tribes, recognising, then as now, a greater power than themselves at work in the mysterious cycle of growth, fruition and decay.

A few afternoons ago, Alison and I sat in the Autumn sunshine (yes, really!) on a bench in Kintbury churchyard, surrounded by the men and women who worked the local farms and fields for centuries, to plan this year’s Harvest Festival Service for St Mary’s Church.  The present-day village went on unobtrusively with its daily routine around us – a parishioner walking her dog stopped to chat, children let out from school rode joyfully by on bikes and scooters – and we thought about how best we could mark this year’s harvest.  How to find that balance which enjoys and celebrates the tradition in which it, and we, are rooted – while also seeking freshness, a new responsiveness, genuine joy and gratitude.

Will we have got it right?  I’m sure the congregation will let us know!  But for us it was a very special couple of hours – and it just felt like a totally appropriate activity in exactly the right setting, as we agreed that “Come ye thankful people come” was absolutely the right sentiment, at the right time, in the right place, for this year once again.

Jenny

Kintbury Harvest Festival (9:45, 06/10) gifts will be combined with gifts from Kintbury St Mary's School Harvest Service and donated to the Food Bank.

Urgently needed items
Lunchbox individual fruit juice
Wet Wipes
Shaving foam
Tinned Vegetables
Variety pack cereal
Tinned tomatoes/passata
Tin Meat Meals - curry, hotpot, pies etc

Low on Stock
Tinned Fruit
Honey
Custard/Rice Pudding
Long Life Sponge Puddings
Tinned Soup
Size 4 and 8 Nappies

Most mornings just after breakfast and before my day gets going, I go for a short walk around the
estate where I live. Towards the end of my route there is a huge, majestic oak tree that was
preserved as the estate was built up around it. Most often, I pause for a moment and I admire its
beauty, and marvel at its stability, solidity, unchangeableness, day after day, season after season.
No doubt its roots go very deep, and the vagaries of the weather have only served to increase its
strength, its resilience. Sometimes (if no one is looking!) I feel moved to stretch up my arms
mirroring the tree’s posture of reaching for the sky, sometimes as an expression of joy and
appreciation, but sometimes as a gesture of prayer ‘God make me more like this oak tree!’
Because, truth be told, I am not at all like this. Sometimes I wobble, I waver, I don’t always feel very
strong at all. I want to stand tall, I want to be resilient, but often I am buffeted by circumstances, by worries and concerns, things that hurt or upset me.
The prophet Jeremiah writes:
‘Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,
whose trust is in the Lord.
They shall be like a tree planted by water,
sending out its roots by the stream.
It shall not fear when heat comes,
and its leaves shall stay green;
in the year of drought it is not anxious,
and it does not cease to bear fruit.’ (Jeremiah 17.7-8)
God invites us to trust, and to put down our ‘roots’ into refreshing, life-giving water. We don’t have
to grit our teeth and try even harder to be strong, rather we are invited to come, and to receive from his resources, and that is how we grow and how we bear fruit.
In October we will be having the first of our healing services which will be an opportunity for us to
come together to make some space to pray for God to refresh and sustain us. An opportunity to
receive from God’s helping hand, from his healing hand. It will be a time set aside to draw strength
if life is feeling hard, refreshment if you’re feeling tired, some peace if life is rather frantic, or
comfort where there is sadness. There will be time to bring prayers for people we know who are
suffering or struggling. It is for anyone, and everyone - a time to simply be quiet, enjoy some
stillness, take part in some gentle worship and prayers, and sink our ‘roots’ deep down into God’s
sustaining stream of living water.
Alison

As schools start this week, I hope you have managed some rest and holiday over August.
Rest and holidays are an important, essential part of life.
As you know holidays grew out of holy-days which in our medieval history proliferated
through saints’ days, some nationally recognised and others with more local significance, as
in Wales and Cornwall. With the church so dominating the rhythms of life then, they were
recognised by landlord and worker alike in what was a predominantly an agricultural and
household labour market. A quick glance at the famous and wonderful Luttrell Psalter shows
vividly the types of occupation our medieval forbears “enjoyed”. How different to our highly
mechanised agriculture when, last week, one combine-harvester harvested two large fields
behind us in half a day! By the late 19 th century, and a more industrialised Britain, factories
agreed to close for a week in the summer to allow their workers rest and holidays, and by
the 1930’s Butlins holiday camps got going. In the late 19 th century leisure pursuits had
taken off with the proliferation of clubs in football, cricket and later athletics, all becoming
spectator sports. Likewise, overseas travel for the better off with Thomas Cooks and Henry
Lunn (David Cannadine, Victorious Century, Penguin p513) started group overseas holiday
travel. All of this made for holidays and hopefully refreshment from the often grinding daily
round. But rest has deeper significance too.
One holy-day or Saints Day recently celebrated on August 28th is in memory of St Augustine
of Hippo, a town on the coast of present day Algeria (Annaba) where he was bishop and
teacher of the faith for over thirty years (396-430AD). It was he who, in his famous
Confessions, wrote “our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you”: meaning that our
lives really only enjoy that deep peace and integration when they come to dwell in God
through Christ. It is then that we may come to know a “peace that passes understanding”
(Philippians 4:7) as they are fixed by faith in God, though prayer, worship and scripture. As
Jesus himself said, “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you
rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and
you will fine rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28,29). The greatest holy-day is when we find
that rest in him.

Patrick Whitworth

I was chatting with a friend a few days ago, who was talking about how his response to formal worship has changed over the years.

He is a lifelong Christian and reflective churchgoer, who has explored theology and faith, and who has, in the past, had some varied experience of lay leadership, although with no formal ecclesiastical training or ministry.  As the years have passed, his personal life and situation have, of course, moved on, progressed, developed and altered; his perceptions of the world and the Church have changed, and he admits to sometimes finding the formal liturgy of church services less rewarding spiritually than when he was an enthusiastic, devout and younger “disciple”.

And he asks himself, (and his spiritual director), whether this is a failing of his own faith or of the Church’s ability to communicate.

It’s a question perhaps worth asking – but it doesn’t seem to lead towards any very conclusive answer.

And so our conversation continued.  

“But I do find,” he said, “that when I’m out in the garden, or I’m walking through the fields or beside the river – I am praying continuously; it absorbs me completely.”

He paused then, and seemed to be delving into deep deliberation.

Eventually - “When you watch the news – it’s impossible to know what to think – or how to pray – and yet the only possible response is to pray.  Israel, Gaza, Lebanon – who do you pray for?  How do you pray about it?  How can you not pray for the people and the situation?”

Needless to say – I’m afraid I had no useful advice or suggestions to offer – and I’m not really sure that is what he was looking for.

In the end, we all have to work out our own personal philosophy and beliefs.  I think though, that it is important to recognise and accept that very few of us will reach a conclusive position where we will remain throughout our life.  It can be useful and helpful to think things through aloud – because we humans function and philosophise and create concepts verbally.  If we choose, or want to pray, it can also be useful to accept – as St Paul, who so rarely found himself lost for words, admitted: “we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”

I think maybe that’s where my friend is at the moment – I’ll put it to him next time I see him.  I wonder how many of us are feeling the same?  Do you find your thoughts taking on a life of their own when something moves you?  Do you ever identify it as prayer?

Jenny