Draw Near: Life-giving habits for lent: SERVICE

(by Revd. Canon Emma Racklyeft)

Faith in Motion

Introduction: The Invitation to Draw Near

Friends, we are now moving into the 5^th week of our Lenten journey, "Drawing Near" to God by cultivating life-giving habits. 

So far, we’ve explored habits of worship, prayer, Scripture and Communion.  Today, we turn to a habit that moves our faith from the quiet of our hearts into the loudness of the world: Sharing in Service.

Lent is often seen as a season of "giving things up." But the Church of England’s theme this year reminds us it is also a season of "taking things up"—specifically, the "rhythm of life" that helps us grow as disciples. When we serve others, we aren’t just "doing a good deed"; we are practicing a habit that draws us closer to the heart of God.

The Theology: Faith That Breathes

Our first reading from James 2:14-17 gets straight to the point: "What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them?".

James uses a vivid, perhaps even uncomfortable, example. He describes someone who is shivering and hungry, and a believer who says, "Go in peace; keep warm and well fed," but does absolutely nothing to help. James calls this "dead" faith.

Think of faith and service like breathing. Faith is the inhale—receiving God’s love, grace, and word. Service is the exhale—letting that love flow out to others. If you only inhale, you eventually suffocate. Faith without the "exhale" of service is stagnant. To truly "Draw Near" to God, we must move.

The Vision: Seeing the Face of Christ

This brings us to our Gospel, Matthew 25:31-46, the famous parable of the sheep and the goats. Jesus tells us that at the end of time, we will be judged not on our theological certificates, but on how we treated "the least of these".

The most startling part of this passage isn't the judgment itself, but the surprise of both groups.

• The righteous ask: "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you?"
• The unrighteous ask: "Lord, when did we see you hungry... and did not help you?"

Jesus’ answer is radical: "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me". He doesn't say, "You did it as if it were for me." He says, "You did it to me".

When we serve the hungry, the lonely, or the stranger, we aren't just helping a person in need—we are encountering the Living Christ. 

Service is not just a moral duty; it is a spiritual habit that clears our vision so we can see God where He has promised to be: among the broken.

The Practice: Small Acts, Big Habits

So, how do we make "Sharing in Service" a life-giving habit this week?

Well two basic principles - 

1. Look for the "Least": Who are the "least" in your immediate circle? It might be the neighbour who lives alone, the colleague struggling with stress, or the person at the food bank.
2. Move from Pity to Presence: Matthew 25 mentions visiting the sick and those in prison. These are acts of presence. Sometimes service is as simple as offering ten minutes of undivided attention to someone who feels forgotten.

Here are a few practical ideas that might inspire you:

• Support the Foodbank: When shopping add 7 extra items of non-perishable items, like pasta, tinned beans, coffee, or mini easter eggs – one for each day of the week and then bring them to church and add to our donation box for the local WTL foodbank.
• Support Thirst Solutions: Donate to an organisation like WaterAid or a similar international charity that provides access to clean running water.
• Respite for Caregivers: Offer to stay with a homebound or elderly person so their primary family caregiver can run errands or take a much-needed break.
• Befriend the Ignored: Make a conscious effort to chat with people often overlooked in daily life—supermarket checkout staff, bus drivers, or refuse collectors—thanking them for their work.
• Host a "Neighbour Night": Invite a neighbour you don't know well for coffee or tea to build an authentic connection in your own block or street.
• Wardrobe Weed Out: Select high-quality clothes, shoes, or blankets you no longer use and donate them to a local shelter or charity shop rather than just discarding them.
• Comfort for the Sick: Volunteer to wash wheelchairs at a nursing home or spend an hour reading to a person with failing eyesight.
• The "Two-Minute" Task: Help an elderly neighbour with a small physical chore they struggle with, such as taking out the bins or watering the garden.

Conclusion: A Life Intertwined

And so, as we continue toward Easter, let us remember that drawing near to God and drawing near to our neighbour are the same movement. When we extend our hands in service, we find that God’s hand is already there, reaching back. Let us be a people whose faith is alive, breathing, and visible. May we have the courage to "Draw Near" by stepping out.

Closing Prayer

Gracious and Loving God,

We thank you for the gift of this Lenten season—a time to strip away the distractions and refocus our hearts on you.

Lord, we confess that sometimes our faith remains only in our heads and our hearts. Forgive us for the times we have seen a brother or sister in need and offered only "well-wishes" instead of our hands.

Grant us restless hearts that cannot be still while others are hungry, thirsty, or alone. Open our eyes this week to see Your face in the stranger, the prisoner, and the broken. As we practice the habit of service, transform our "duty" into delight, and our "charity" into community.

May the words we say and the lives we lead be one and the same. Help us to exhale your love as freely as we inhale your grace, until your Kingdom comes and your will is done.

In the name of Jesus Christ, who came not to be served, but to serve. Amen.

Draw Near: Life-giving habits for lent: Communion 

(by Revd. Buffy Langdown)  

We all know hunger. That gnawing feeling that says, “Eat something… and make it quick!” Hunger can make us grumpy, impatient, and sometimes a little irrational, a little more inclined to judge the person in the queue in front of you who’s taking way too long to choose their cake.

But there are other kinds of hunger, ones that don’t show on our waistline but make themselves known in quieter ways. A hunger for love. A hunger for meaning. A hunger for belonging. A hunger to be seen, to be known, to matter.

Mothering Sunday is a good time to reflect on that. For many of us, we remember the meals, hugs, and care given by mothers, grandmothers, aunts, uncles, or carers — or even the neighbour who always made sure we had a piece of cake when life seemed bleak. 

The people who made sure we didn’t go hungry, physically or emotionally. They were the first people to teach us that love is often shown through presence, patience, and a plate of something warm.

But even the best human love, tender and sustaining as it is, points beyond itself. Deep within us is a hunger only God can fill. That’s the hunger Jesus speaks to in today’s Gospel: the hunger for life that truly satisfies, the hunger that leads to eternal nourishment. He calls it “living bread.” Not breadsticks or toast but the spiritual, soul-satisfying, life-transforming bread that reaches deep into our very being.

Jesus says in John 6:51:

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven.”

This bread meets our deepest hungers: for love, for belonging, for meaning, and for God himself.

And today, we are invited to come to this table with all our hungers — for love, for meaning, for hope, for belonging — and find that Christ meets them all.

At the Last Supper, Jesus didn’t simply pass around bread as if it were an ordinary meal — though I wouldn’t have minded being there — he said:

“This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

Notice the words: given for you. Not for someone else. Not “imagine I’m here.” Not “pretend it tastes better than it does.” No, Christ gave himself fully, for each of us, in that simple, ordinary meal.

We often think of Communion as a “meal,” but it’s more than a meal. It is God’s love on a plate and in a cup. 

Eating and drinking in faith is our way of saying: “Lord, I see you. I trust you. I open myself to you.” And Christ abides in us as we abide in him. Even if your spiritual appetite is small, hesitant, or distracted, there is always enough grace for you. Christ’s love is patient, abundant, forgiving. It meets us exactly where we are. Even the messy, distracted, slightly chaotic version of us.

Communion reminds us that God’s love is not limited by our limitations, our doubts, or our clumsiness. We are invited to receive it, not because we are perfect, but because we are hungry — spiritually, emotionally, and yes, sometimes physically.

Communion is deeply personal, but it is also profoundly communal. We do not receive Christ in isolation. We receive him as the body of Christ — the Church.

Picture it: everyone gathered around the table. The fidgety ones, the overenthusiastic ones, the ones who forgot to put on matching socks — all one body. One table. One bread.

This is particularly beautiful on Mothering Sunday, because the Church has long been called our mother. Just as a mother nurtures, comforts, and forms her children, so the Church nurtures us in faith, welcomes us in weakness, and teaches us to live in love. The Church gathers us, imperfect as we are, and feeds us spiritually, emotionally, and morally.

Communion also teaches us something else: we belong to one another. We are shaped and formed into a community. We are not just isolated individuals trying to navigate life on our own. 

Grace often arrives with subtle humour, too — a reminder that God’s love is gentle and light-hearted, even when life feels serious. It encourages us to approach God with honesty, openness, and even a smile.

When we share in the bread and the wine, we are reminded that our joys and burdens are shared, our triumphs and struggles are communal, and our faith is strengthened together. And in the simple act of eating the bread and drinking the cup, we are reminded that we are not alone.

And let’s not forget the humour in all this. Have you noticed how Communion can make us a little awkward? The shuffle forward, the polite “peace be with you” exchange that feels like a dance you never practiced, the juggling of wafer and cup — yet through all that, we are reminded that grace is patient. It doesn’t require us to be perfect; it simply calls us to gather and be fed.

The gift of Communion does not end when the organ music fades and the service ends. The grace we receive here is meant to spill into our daily lives.

How? By turning the love we receive into love we give.

It may be in a smile to a neighbour or a colleague who is stressed.

It might be in patience for someone who frustrates us.
It might be in a phone call to a lonely friend, or an act of quiet generosity that goes unnoticed.
A kind word to someone who seems invisible.
A moment of patience in a difficult conversation.
A gesture of generosity or care for someone in need.

Even our ordinary meals can become holy when we pause to give thanks for our bread,

When we pause to give thanks for ordinary bread, we remember the greater gift — the living bread that sustains our souls.

This is what Paul meant in 1 Corinthians 11 when he spoke of Communion as forming the body of Christ. The table shapes us. The meal transforms us. And the grace we receive becomes grace we live — not only on Sunday, but Monday, Tuesday, and every day after that.

The Eucharist shapes us into Christ’s body. What we receive is not meant to stop with us. It flows outward, forming us into people who feed, heal, and care for others.

So, Mothering Sunday is not just about remembering those who cared for us in the past. It’s about recognising how that care points to God, and how we, in turn, are called to nurture and care for others. It is an invitation to embody the love we receive, to feed the hungry, to console the lonely, to welcome the stranger. The love we share becomes an extension of Christ’s love in the world.

Even small acts count. A cup of tea for a neighbour. A kind word for a friend. A smile for a stranger. All of these are echoes of the love we receive at the Lord’s Table. Grace often arrives in subtle ways — a reminder that God’s love is gentle and light-hearted, even when life feels serious. It encourages us to approach God with honesty, openness, and even a smile

So today, come hungry. Come grateful. Come with hands open and hearts expectant.

Christ meets us — messy, imperfect, tired, human us — and feeds us. Christ forms us into a body, a family, a Church. 

Christ sends us into the world to share his love, not merely by speaking about it, but by living it in our daily actions. Every act of kindness, every word of encouragement, every moment of patience or care becomes a way of making Christ’s presence known. We are called to embody his love in homes, workplaces, and communities, so that others may see, feel, and experience the grace that we have received at this table.”

We are reminded that spiritual hunger is real. It is to be acknowledged. And it is to be met — not with platitudes, but with the living bread of Christ.

And if you still feel a little hungry afterwards, don’t worry there’s always tea to tide you over. But remember, no cup, no biscuit, no meal could ever satisfy like the grace of Christ. What we receive at this table nourishes not just our bodies, but our hearts and souls. It fills the emptiness we carry, restores our strength for the week ahead, and sends us out to share that love with others. Christ’s grace is more sustaining, more satisfying, and far more abundant than anything we can eat or drink.”.

Come. Be fed. Be formed. Be sent. And carry that grace, quietly, faithfully, and joyfully, into every day of the week.

“Come, and be fed.”

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you are the living bread, given for us that we may have life in all its fullness. Feed our hearts with your love, unite us as your body, and send us forth to share your grace with the world. Come, to us as we receive the bread of life and the cup of salvation, and are nourished for the journey ahead Come to us now in this holy meal, and draw us ever closer to you. Amen.

Draw Near: Life-giving habits for lent: SCRIPTURE 

(by Revd. Buffy Langdown and Peter Mitchell - LLM) 

 Introduction:

Have you ever gone for a walk with someone?

How does it feel when someone walks with you?
Today we learn that Jesus still walks with us — especially when we read the Bible.

Today we remember that when two disciples walked in confusion, the risen Jesus came alongside them and opened the Scriptures. And in a letter to Timothy, we are reminded that Scripture is “God-breathed” — alive and useful for shaping our lives.

We are here to meet Christ who still speaks through his Word.

Talk part 1: Scripture must be opened and received.

Bring up a volunteer Give them:

• A wrapped snack (closed)
• A Bible (closed)

Question: Can this snack feed you if it stays wrapped?

Can this Bible change you if it stays closed?

Just like food must be opened and eaten, Scripture must be opened and received.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus opens Scripture — and something powerful happens.

Interactive Bible reading Luke 24:13-35

Talk part 2 : Scripture Warms the Heart 

What was happening on the road?

• The disciples were confused.
• They knew the Bible stories.
• But they didn’t yet see Jesus in them.
• What confused or worried the disciples?
• How did Jesus help them see God’s plan?
• What makes our hearts “burn” when we read the Bible today?

Then Jesus:

• Walked with them.
• Explained the Scriptures.
• Showed how they pointed to him.

What changed?

Not the road.
Not the circumstances.
Their hearts.

Scripture became personal.

The same Scriptures they had heard all their lives suddenly became:

• Alive
• Clear
• About Jesus
• About them

Second Bible Reading: Timothy 3:14-17

Emphasize verse 16:

“All Scripture is God-breathed…”
“God-breathed” means Scripture carries God’s life and voice.

Talk part 3: Scripture Feeds Us

What happens if you don’t eat for a week?   We become weak.

What happens if we don’t receive God’s Word? We become spiritually tired, confused, and easily discouraged.

Scripture as Nourishment

Like:

• Bread strengthens the body
• Water refreshes
• Milk helps growth

So Scripture:

• Teaches truth
• Corrects gently
• Trains us in love and goodness
• Equips us to live well

But notice something:

The disciples recognized Jesus:
Not just when he explained the Scriptures…
But when he broke bread.

Word and nourishment belong together.

Christ feeds us:

• Through Scripture
• Through his presence

Through community

Summary: Three simple invitations…

Walk with Jesus in Scripture, Read expecting to meet Him.

Pray first: Ask God to open your understanding before reading your bible.

Listen attentively: Hear God speaking to you directly, not just learning history, just as the disciples experienced on the Emmaus Road.

It’s about reading the Bible as a living conversation with God rather than just a text.

As you leave today take a candle to light each day to help remember to …

“Read Scripture with Jesus, pray for understanding, hear Him call your name, and let His Word light your heart and guide your steps.”

Introduction to the sermon series: Life Giving habits for Lent – Draw Near 

(by Revd. Buffy Langdown)

“Return to the Lord: Preparing Our Hearts”
Texts: Joel 2:12–17; Matthew 6:1–6, 16–21

Gracious and merciful God, as we begin this Ash Wednesday journey, quiet our hearts and turn us from distraction to your steadfast love. Form in us a spirit of true repentance, that marked with ashes, we may return to you with all our hearts. Amen.

Each year we begin this Lenten journey with ashes. Ashes are not decorative. They are not flattering. They are not triumphant. Ashes tell the truth.

In the ancient world, ashes were a sign of grief, repentance, and mortality. When we receive them, we hear the words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Ashes confront us with what we often avoid: our limits, our frailty, our sin, our need.

Yet ashes are not meant to shame us. They are meant to free us. They tell the truth about our lives so that we no longer have to pretend. We do not begin Lent as spiritual achievers. We begin as people who need mercy.

The prophet Joel speaks into a time of devastation and loss. The land has been stripped bare. The people are shaken. And into that crisis comes the invitation: “Return to me with all your heart” (Joel 2:12). Not perform. Not impress. Not fix everything. Return.

Lent, then, is not a spiritual performance review. It is an invitation. It is not about proving our devotion; it is about rediscovering our dependence. The ashes mark us not as failures, but as beloved people called home.

The most important words in Joel’s call are not “return” but “to me.” “Return to me,” says the Lord.

Before there is repentance, there is relationship. Before there is turning, there is a God who desires to be turned toward.

Joel reminds us why this invitation is possible: “For he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Joel 2:13). God’s mercy precedes our repentance. We do not persuade God to be kind by being sorry. We turn because God is already gracious.

Repentance, in Scripture, is relational before it is moral. It is not a transaction “I’ll clean up my life so that God will accept me.” It is a return “I come back to the One who loves me.”

In the Gospel reading from Matthew 6, Jesus warns about practising righteousness “in order to be seen by others.” He speaks about giving, praying, and fasting—not as wrong practices, but as practices that can be distorted. When they become performances, they cease to be returns to God and become displays for others.

Notice the repeated phrase: “Your Father who sees in secret.” The heart of repentance is not public display but restored intimacy. It is turning again toward “your Father.”

God is not waiting with crossed arms. God is calling with open arms. “Return to me.” The initiative begins in the heart of God.

And that changes everything.

If repentance is relational, how do we live it out? Joel calls the people to gather, to fast, to pray. Jesus speaks of giving, praying, and fasting. These are not spiritual gymnastics. They are practices of return.

Prayer is turning our attention back to God. It is the daily reorientation of the heart. When Jesus teaches about prayer, he says, “Go into your room and shut the door.” Not because secrecy is magical, but because intimacy matters. Prayer draws us near.

Fasting creates space. It loosens our grip on what we rely on so that we can remember who we rely on. It is not about proving willpower; it is about rediscovering hunger for God.

Generosity shifts our treasure. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Our hearts follow our investments. When we give—quietly, faithfully—we practise trust. We declare that our security rests not in accumulation, but in God.

These practices are not ends in themselves. They are means of drawing near. They are ways of saying with our bodies and time and money: “Lord, I turn to you.”

And they are meant to be life-giving, not life-draining.

So how do we make this Lent season different to others?

First, we remember that repentance is a gift before it is a demand. The very desire to return to God is already grace at work in us. If you feel even the smallest longing to be closer to God, that longing is evidence of God’s Spirit stirring.

Second, we remember that God desires hearts turned toward him, not outward religiosity. The danger Jesus names is real. We can turn this Lent into a project. We can compare how we are doing in the different disciplines. We can subtly measure ourselves and others. But Lent is not private self-improvement. It is communal formation.

Joel says, “Blow the trumpet… gather the people.” This is something we do together. We are a community learning to return.

That shapes how we approach the weeks ahead. The daily reflections offered to us are not tasks to complete. They are companions for this Lenten journey. They are gentle prompts, not spiritual scorecards. If we miss a day, we have not failed. We simply begin again.

Perhaps this week, choose one intentional habit to practise. Not ten. Not an overhaul of your life. One faithful step. It might be:

• Setting aside five minutes each morning for quiet prayer.
• Fasting from a meal once this week and using that time to pray.
• Reaching out in generosity to someone in need.
• Turning off a distraction in order to be more present to God and others.

Small, consistent practices shape our hearts more deeply than dramatic gestures. 

And anchor it all in a simple daily prayer:
“Lord, I turn to you.”

When you wake up: “Lord, I turn to you.”
When you feel anxious: “Lord, I turn to you.”
When you fail: “Lord, I turn to you.”
When you are grateful: “Lord, I turn to you.”

When you are just about to go to sleep: “Lord I turn to you”

Repentance is not a single dramatic moment. It is a thousand small turns.

Imagine what could happen if, over these weeks, we become a people who quietly, persistently turn toward God.

Not a people obsessed with appearances.

Not a people too busy to notice others around us.
Not a people competing in devotion.
But a people softened by grace.

Ashes remind us that we are dust. But they are traced in the shape of a cross. Even in our frailty, we belong to Christ. Even in our repentance, we are held by mercy.

Joel leaves us with a question: “Who knows whether he will not turn and relent…?” As Christians, we read that question in the light of Christ and dare to hope even more boldly. We know the character of the One who calls us. Gracious. Merciful. Abounding in steadfast love.

So, we begin Lent not with fear, but with trust.

Return to the Lord—not because you must earn his love, but because you already live within it.

Return with all your heart—not because God is far away, but because he is nearer than you think.

Return—and discover again that the God who calls you home is the God who has been walking toward you all along.

Loving God, We offer you our hearts at the beginning of these forty days.
Lord, we turn to you.

In the name of Christ our Saviour. Amen.

Draw Near: Life-giving habits for lent: PRAYER

(by Revd. Canon Emma Racklyeft)

If you had to describe your prayer life right now in one word, what would it be and why?

1. Introduction: The Magnetic Call of Prayer
   Prayer is often misunderstood - some see it as a religious or moral duty, for others it is a shopping list of requests and petitions, for some prayer is our intercessions in church each week, for some prayer is done in a hurry as we dash off to work or school each day.  

Prayer is not meditation, positive thinking or passive reflection, but it is actually our primary way to draw near to God. In James 4:8, we find a beautiful, divine promise: "Draw near to God and He will draw near to you". This is a deliberate act of the heart—a "magnetic" pull where our small step toward Him is met by His gracious, loving movement toward us [1.1].

Prayer is the communication of the human soul with Almighty God.  In prayer, a believer of Jesus Christ, can communicate emotion, desire, longings, and find fellowship, peace and rest. 

Prayer can be audible or silent, private or public, formal or informal.

All prayer is offered in faith, in the name of the Lord Jesus, and in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Prayer is described in the Bible as seeking God’s favour (Exodus 32:11), pouring out one’s soul to the Lord (1 Samuel 1:15), crying out to heaven (2 Chronicles 32:20), drawing near to God (Psalm 73:28, KJV), and kneeling before the Father (Ephesians 3:14). 

Prayers involves a turning to God – recognising, acknowledging God’s beauty, power and holiness and so it involves awe and adoration.  As we pray, we need to acknowledge our own mess and sin, and so prayer involves confession, and lament. Prayer often involves intercession – requests for our world, our communities, for others and for ourselves.  Prayer should also include thanksgiving, counting our blessing, gratitude.  And prayer also involves us yielding to God’s will, handing things over to God, praying that God’s kingdom would come…not ours – supplication.

This week as we’ve been reading our Lent booklets – we will have picked up on these themes.

Today we’re focussing on two passages Luke 11 and Philippians 4 - both passages give us guidance and advice as we learn the holy habit of prayer.

So, let’s begin with Luke 11.

2. The Pattern: The Shape of the Saviour’s Prayer (Luke 11:1-4)
   In Luke 11, the disciples didn’t ask Jesus how to preach, or how to perform miracles, or how to sing songs of worship; instead, they ask, "Lord, teach us to pray." 

Jesus responded with a theological blueprint – a pattern—a way to orient our souls, to realign our inner lives, before we ever ask for a miracle, or help:

• The Upward Look (Adoration): He begins with "Father, hallowed be Your name." Prayer starts by acknowledging Who we are talking to. We centre ourselves on His holiness, His mercy and truth.  We stand in awe, that a God who is just and good graciously welcomes us. Jesus called His father Abba – and we can too, this Aramaic word for father signifies an intimate, trusting, and familial relationship with God.  Our relationships is direct and personal, not distant or removed. Our relationship begins with adoration and awe.
• The Outward Look (Kingdom): Next in the blueprint, Jesus tells us to pray - "Your kingdom come." This is a prayer of submission, asking that His eternal priorities would override our temporary/fleeting agendas. We look to God for His kingdom – not ours.
• The Inward Look (Provision and Pardon): Only after focusing on God's glory do we bring our needs: "Give us each day our daily bread" and "Forgive us our sins." This creates a rhythm of total dependence—relying on Him for both our physical survival and our spiritual standing. We look to God for provision and for pardon.

III. The Illustration: Shameless Audacity (Luke 11:5-13)
Having given the pattern, Jesus then addresses the posture of the person praying through the "Friend at Midnight":

• The Scene: In the ancient Near East, hospitality was a sacred duty. When a traveller arrived at midnight, the host had no bread. To avoid the public shame of being inhospitable, he went to his neighbour.
• The "Shameless" Friend: The Greek word for persistence here is anaideia, (an-ah-EYE-dee-ah) meaning "shameless audacity". The man wasn't just politely asking; he was banging on the door until his neighbour got up. He didn't care about looking foolish; he cared about the need.
• The Application: Jesus uses a "how much more" argument: If even a grumpy neighbour eventually helps because of your bold persistence, how much more will your perfect Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?

IV. The Result: Peace That Surpasses Understanding (Philippians 4:4-7)
When we follow this pattern with bold persistence, our internal landscape shifts from anxiety to authority, from fear to love, form stress to peace.  Philippians 4 describes the "equation for peace":

• Trade Anxiety for Access: Paul commands us to "be anxious for nothing". Instead, in everything, we present our requests with thanksgiving. Worry about nothing – pray about everything.
• Everything? Yes, God wants us to talk with Him about everything. How often should we pray? The biblical answer is “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). We should keep a running conversation going with God all day long. Prayer develops our relationship with God and demonstrates our trust and utter dependence upon Him.
• The Logic-Defying Guard: This peace is "supernatural" because it doesn't match our circumstances. Paul uses the military term phroureō, (froo-REH-o) meaning "to garrison" or "to stand guard". Just as soldiers protected the city of Philippi, God’s peace stands as a sentinel at the door of your heart and mind, keeping fear from "breaking in" while you are "drawing near."

V. Call to Action: The "7-Day Draw Near" Challenge
Knowing the pattern and the promise isn't enough; we must step through the door. This week, I challenge you to practice three specific movements in your prayer life:

1. The 5-Minute Hallowing: Before you ask for a single thing, spend the first five minutes of your prayer time "hallowing" His name. List His attributes—His faithfulness, His power, His kindness—until your heart feels the weight of His Holy presence.
2. The "Shameless" Request: Identify one "midnight" situation in your life—something that feels desperate or impossible. Like the man in the parable, bring it to God with shameless audacity every single day this week. Don't stop knocking.
3. The Thanksgiving Guard: Every time an anxious, fearful thought tries to "break in," immediately counter it with a "thank you." If you worry about a bill, thank God for His past provision. Use gratitude to post the guard over your mind.

Conclusion
Drawing near to God is a conscious choice to knock until the door opens. When you do, you don't just get an answer; you get the Garrison of Peace standing watch over your life.

Closing Prayer

As St Augustine once said – You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in thee.

Heavenly Father, thank You for the pattern and posture of prayer that Jesus gave us. Help us to be "shameless" in our pursuit of You. May Your peace, which defies understanding, guard our hearts and minds this week as we choose to draw near. We pray in the name of Jesus, Amen.

Draw Near: Life-giving habits for lent: WORSHIP

(by Peter Mitchell – LLM)

Let us draw near to God and his love, and he will draw near to us. Amen.

“What do you think you are doing?” “What do you think you are doing?”

Perhaps the title of this service might give us a clue? Morning Worship.

It’s definitely morning. So, is this worship?

I think it is, or, at least, it’s one element of worship.

This Lent, we are following the Church of England’s booklet, ‘Draw Near – Life-giving habits for Lent’, and Revd Buffy has helpfully produced a leaflet to help us to reflect further on the themes in this booklet. The theme for this week is worship.

But what exactly do we mean by worship? It’s a word which has been tossed about so often that people no longer think deeply about the meaning behind the word. And we sometimes can make it look complicated, and a bit alien, especially to new worshippers. So, what does worship involve?

Coming to church perhaps? Or can we also worship in other places? On a mountain-top, by the sea, in a forest, in the wilderness, on an island, at home, in hospital, in the street, in a crowd, in a small group, with family and friends, with strangers, on our own, wherever we feel close to God? And does it have to be on a Sunday or special feast day? Or can we gather at other times, setting aside other days as holy days for some of us, given that the wider community no longer makes any allowance for those who might wish to mark their Sabbath on a Sunday.

And is worship mostly about singing God’s praises? Traditional hymns, with biblical words set to beautiful old music, played on a powerful pipe organ and supported by a choir of trained voices in near-perfect pitch; or a simple song of love to God, with a few heartfelt words set to basic chords played on an old guitar for a handful of worshippers to sing haltingly and roughly in tune. And what if you don’t like singing, or your hearing or speech is impaired, is it ok just to follow along in your head, or to read the words, without music, or perhaps just set to a rhythm?

What about prayer? I don’t want to say too much here, as Revd Emma will be preaching about prayer next week, but I think that we might agree that prayer has a place in worship, if prayer is talking to God, for we can hardly worship him without some form of communication. But will that be stand-alone prayers in a time set-aside for those, or will in fact the whole worship be one long prayer in various forms?

Which brings us to liturgy, that is, the ritual or ceremonial form of words and behaviour which is the structure underpinning worship, designed to help worshippers to marshal their thoughts and actions appropriately, and it could perhaps be thought of as one long prayer in some sense. In more formal church settings, worship leaders are supposed to follow liturgy authorized by the church. The Church of England has, happily, relaxed the requirement to follow narrowly prescribed liturgy at certain times of the year and during some types of worship, with a much wider choice of styles to suit different occasions, the needs of different worshippers, and the working of the Holy Spirit.

So where does authorized liturgy come from? Well, in many cases it comes straight out of the bible. If you come to Morning Prayer you might recognize these words: ‘O Lord, open our lips and our mouth shall proclaim your praise’, which are taken from Psalm 51:15. At Holy Communion, the words: ‘Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, God of power and might, Heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosannah in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosannah in the highest’ are taken from Romans, Isaiah, Mark and Matthew, and the words of invitation to eat Jesus’ body and to drink his blood are taken directly from Matthew, Mark, and 1 Corinthians. And at many services of worship, we end by saying the words of The Grace, which are taken from 2 Corinthians 13:14.

Wherever the words originate, we must remember that many of them are of their time and are set in the context within which they were written. Inherited words which were censored by autocratic royalty, including Henry VIII and James I, or which were written to be used by slave owners or by Royal Naval captains, whose belief was that the British Empire was just as great as God’s Kingdom, might not reflect the values of people today.

What we worship is who and what we shall follow; this is why the devil made worship of him the final, unsuccessful, temptation for Jesus in the wilderness. Bishop John Pritchard¹ suggests that those who worship money become more calculating, those who worship the human body become more obsessed with appearance, those who worship power become more ruthless, and those who worship Jesus become more like him. So, if worship is to shape worshippers and to help them to grow more like Jesus, then surely it must, as Jesus did, challenge the cultural norms of the day and speak words of hope to people on the margins of society, the outcasts, the unfortunate, the rebels, the vulnerable, the have-nots. Words which often might sound uncomfortable or disturbing to the privileged but surely what we might expect to hear in biblically-based worship.

Which brings us to scripture. I shan’t say very much about this here, as we shall be focussing on scripture at our services in two weeks’ time, but we recognize scripture as a God-inspired body of material to guide discipleship. Our worship cannot therefore be complete without the frequent re-telling of God’s story and that of his long-term and ongoing relationship with his people.

But, without clarification, we might find that each worshipper hears and interprets scripture differently, according to their own knowledge, understanding and experience, or guesswork. Each worshipper comes with different needs and scripture must speak into those needs, so will benefit from some careful and appropriate explanation, based on historical examination and theological reflection, which is the job of the preacher in their address or sermon. This, and the working of the Holy Spirit in each worshipper, helps to make the words of scripture relevant and illuminating to individual circumstances.

One element of worship which I have so far omitted to mention is the significant Christian rite of Holy Communion. Again, I don’t wish to dwell on communion this morning, as Revd Buffy will be preaching on this in a few weeks’ time, but it must be acknowledged that this regular re-enactment of the Last Supper, which Jesus had with his disciples, and repetition of his command to eat bread, and to drink wine in remembrance of him, provides spiritual nourishment for worshippers, helping them to draw near to God, and, for some, may be the main reason for attending worship.

Some worship is largely word-based, even when it is set to music, but much of it engages other senses too. What we see, feel, and even taste or smell, can contribute equally to the experience. Rather than just sitting listening, and occasionally standing to sing hymns, how would you feel about a multi-sensory worship experience? When I was a boy, worshipping in an Anglo-Catholic church, in 1960s Tyneside, our otherwise traditional vicar engaged a ballet teacher, to enable our children and young people to express themselves in movement to music during our worship; literally, dancing in the aisles. The congregation embraced it; though nobody over the age of 25 had the courage to join in!

Some people are uncomfortable with the use of smelly incense and tinkling bells, intricately woven and embroidered special robes, reverent handling of sacred artefacts and carefully choreographed movements during worship; they might find that these distract them from their praise, prayer and contemplation of God’s word. But others find the opposite, that these things become familiar to them and their regular use diminishes spontaneity and individuality, allowing them to focus on the core elements of worship.

Whilst some people welcome repetition, consistency and stillness, others delight in worshipping in a variety of different ways, making worship feel fresh and reaching more deeply into parts of their bodies, hearts and minds, compared to less demonstrative forms of worship. For some, people, symbolism in worship is meaningful and helpful, for others it’s an irritation, a relic from the days when worshippers couldn’t understand Latin and couldn’t read English, and needed visual clues as to what was happening during the worship.

The fact is that worshippers gather from different lives, with different experiences, problems, achievements, sorrows and joys, and different preferences; each of us will feel different and will respond differently to worship on different occasions. What sort of worship helps you to connect to God and to other Christians?

Modern transport has meant that worshippers today often have a choice of different places to worship; unless of course their bus doesn’t run on a Sunday, in which case they may have to take what they find at their local church. But that is no bad thing, for it is good to worship within your own community, alongside your neighbours, as often as possible, whether it’s your type of church or not. Good worship, tailored to accommodate local circumstances, enables God to speak to each of us, personally, in our situation. And, because we cannot all be here every time, those of us who are here are also worshipping on behalf of those of us who are not present; which is a great privilege.

And what do contemporary Christian theologians and ministers think about worship? Here are a couple of reflections:

“Worship is the submission of all our nature to God, his holiness, his truth, his beauty, his love, and his purpose, gathered up in adoration.”²

“Worship is our response, both personal and corporate, to God, for who he is, and what he has done; expressed in and by the things we say and the way we live.”³

These reflections imply that worship is not a one-off event for an hour or so each Sunday, but may be regarded as a whole-person and whole-life human response to God’s being and actions and to how that impacts on us. But, if you have been reading our Lent booklet this week, that shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.

How might the early church have defined worship, I wonder? In New Testament bible passages, the Greek word we most frequently translate as worship is proskyneo (pros-koo-NEH-oh), which is also translated as ‘to prostrate oneself before someone’ and comes from pros meaning ‘towards’ and kyneo meaning ‘kiss’, that is, to kiss towards, implying a heartfelt adoration, reverence and submission to God, honouring him and paying him respect and homage.

Detractors of Christianity have suggested that this sounds like our God is a neurotic, whose ego demands regular massaging by his sycophantic devotees, rather like some human rulers and politicians; but nothing could be further from the truth. For, as the Psalms remind us, our God delights in his people’s worship, but does not need it for his own ends. God’s thoughts and ways are far higher than ours, and we must not make the mistake of believing that God’s motivations resemble our own, all too often self-centred, human ones. He calls us to worship, and offers us his grace, love, forgiveness, and salvation, but we each are responsible for our own response to his call; how much do we feel moved to reciprocate God’s faithfulness and commitment to us? Relationships have to be worked at; can you imagine a couple saying ‘I love you’ to each other on their wedding day, and then not saying it again, but just hoping that the relationship would last? Worship is for our spiritual health, not God’s.

Andrew Roberts⁴, in his book, ‘Holy Habits’, says, “Worship offered as grateful response for all God is and does involves all of our lives: our work, our rest, our enjoyment of creation, our service, our eating, our giving – and, yes, our gatherings with fellow disciples for the focused activity of praise and worship. So, tending the crops, or forming an algorithm, or building a house, or serving a customer can all be done as acts of worship to the glory of God and the blessing of his creation. As can the celebration of the Eucharist, the singing of songs, the offering of dance, sculpture or art, and the praying of prayers.” To which we might add campaigning for social justice and working for peace and reconciliation, playing worship songs in the car, or finding a quiet space to listen for the still small voice of God.

Worship is, quite simply, about giving our grateful hearts to God, not occasionally, not even frequently, but continually, as he first has given his to us, and then drawing near to him, and he will draw near to us.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Notes:

¹ Bishop John Pritchard – Going to Church, 2009, pp 46-47, SPCK.

² Archbishop William Temple – Nature, Man and God, 1934, Gifford Lect.

³ Louie Giglio – Wired, The Air I Breathe, 2009, Student Edition, p81.

⁴ Andrew Roberts – Holy Habits, 2016, pp 210-211, MD Publishing Ltd.