part three of a personal story: new horizons

My experience of other traditions and denominations was widened further when I made a decision that would change my life, in many ways.  I applied to study at what was then London Bible College, now London School of Theology (one of my favourite places in the world).  The story of that decision is an important one, but I won't go into it here - perhaps I will tell it another time, if people are interested.  Let's just say it was made very clear that this was the next step on my journey.  (Very rarely have I ever known anything beyond 'the next step'.)

LBC/LST is an inter-denominational evangelical theological college, thus attracting students from all traditions and cultures.  It was a time of incredible growth for me - in knowledge, in faith, in friendships - and also a time of great challenge, being stretched and at times disassembled, but all the while knowing I was in a safe place.  My passion for Christian unity did not lessen, although it was so much a part of life I rarely thought about it in a very defined way - constantly in conversation and community with those of different traditions meant it was a very practical, very immediate, fact of where I was.  And it delighted me.

It was also where I started getting an inkling that I may, in some way, be going to be involved with those in the Baptist tradition.  I came aware from one chapel service with the odd sensation that in some way I would eventually be connected with Baptist ministry,of all things, but I really didn't know how!

Then I met my future husband, who, I discovered in the course of our new relationship, felt called to Baptist Ministry.  I remember quite clearly deciding perhaps I should know more about this, and picking up a book about Baptist theology.  It was extraordinary.  But...but this is what I think, about so many things.  It wasn't where I'd started, but I felt I had come home.

And now, here I am, she who hates labels but who will, on very special occasions, call herself a Baptist. Because this is where God has put me and where he has led me.  For a while I worked for our regional association in an admin position, which I loved - churches working together!  The Baptist church is so diverse in its congregations, styles and opinions.  Within this medley, I have found my place.

Here in this place, I am still keen to keep on working with other traditions, to work within our agreements and accept the fact of our disagreements, to rid people of their prejudices against each other, to find a way of working together for the good of our communities and our world.  To exercise friendship, respect and tactfulness.  To pray together, seek God together, express our longings together.

To bring together the pieces of the broken sword not in a way that forces people into one mould (the pieces are different shapes, after all) but that expresses the love of God in a dynamic, beautiful way.

To be the church in all her pieces, in all her humanness.

A body of many parts.

The body of Christ.



This is the third part of a personal story, which I have been inspired to share during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.  Links to the previous posts:

Part One - the broken sword
Part Two - under the waves

memory lane: carpet snorting

It was a Monday night at the college where I studied theology. I took a break from the work I was doing in my room because my friend Sarah had ask me to go to the Laundry. She needed me to take her clothes out of the washing machine and put them in the dryer, while she was studying in the Library.


So, I walked to the Laundry and went to the machines. But Sarah's washing wasn't there. I couldn't find it anywhere. I appreciate that this isn't particularly funny. But I must have been overworking my brain, because I started to get the giggles. Off I went towards the Library, snickering. It only got worse as I went along. On reaching the Library, the word SILENCE hung above the doors. Oh dear goodness. Deep breath in. Control, Lucy control. I entered the Library. I wasn't actively giggling but alas, I still had the giggles. They were rippling up from inside - I had simply clamped my mouth shut.


Seeing Sarah made it worse. Quite what my expression was I can't say. But staggering up to her table - I opened my mouth to speak. How can I explain in writing the noise that came out of me? Try breathing in and saying ahhhhh really loudly at the same time. Imagine it ten times louder.

ERRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP! I cried.

I had done it. I had barked like a giant seal in the library. Everyone looked at me in amazement. Monday evening was a busy time in the library. Every table was full. Feeling dreadful, but unable to control the state of my voice, "SORRY!!!" I shrieked, and turned tail and ran.
Sarah was hot on my heels, gasping with laughter.
We collapsed in the outside corridor, much to the alarm of other passing students. It took a very long time for me to get the words out.
Eventually, Sarah's washing was found.


A week later. A Monday night. Sarah was in the library, I had agreed to go to the Laundry. She had asked me to transfer her clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Memories of the previous week were already causing flickers of amusement inside me as I entered the Laundry. I opened the machine - her clothes were there! I reached in and - they were dry. She had forgotten to turn the machine on. Already too far gone with laughter for any good to come out of this, I switched the machine on and hurtled towards the Library. I appreciate that I didn't have to do this. I could have taken the safe method and gone back to my room to calm down. I should have known. But, this was me. And this was Sarah. Sarah and I are the kind of friends who automatically gravitate towards each other when any kind of hilarity occurs. I could not overcome it.


Must...find...Sarah...must...share....


So off I went, back into the main building, sniggering through reception and lurching unsteadily into the Lecturer's Corridor (where they had their offices). There was actually a Lecturer in the corridor at the time, who gave me a look of such puzzled amusement that my mild hysteria increased still further.


SILENCE! Pronounced the board above the Library. Impossible.


I swung through the doors, making strange, gasping hiccupy sounds. Mercifully Sarah saw me coming this time, launched out of her seat (already infected with hysteria herself). She herded me out of the library and we both collapsed in the corridor outside, immobile with laughter.

This is a feature of our friendship. I remember a time when we were on one of the staircases; I clutched at the rails, sobbing with laughter, unable to stand. Sarah was even worse than me, collapsed against the wall making mewing noises. What was the joke? You've got me. Frankly, there didn't even have to be one.


Another occasion we were in Sarah's room and some amusement brought us to the state of lying on the floor, snuffling with laughter. 'I just snorted carpet up my nose!' giggled Sarah. And henceforth we refer to the 'sort of friend you can snort carpet with', which sounds a little dubious (!) but simply means a friend with whom you laugh so hard you are rendered helpless on the floor.


It is a friendship that was meant to be. Early in our acquaintance I was sitting in my room and heard this strange snickering noise outside. My room in the first year was opposite the kitchen. On further exploration, I discovered Sarah helpless with laughter in the kitchen sink, with the window blind on her head. It had fallen down, and she was trying to sort it out. Naturally, I was soon up on the draining board with her.


It isn't only laughter that binds us, of course. We have cried a good many tears with each other since those early days, and wailed over embarrassments and days which have all gone wrong...I still remember Sarah launching through my door and crashing onto my bed and burrowing into it; likewise the time I stumbled, agonised, into her room and buried my head in the first thing I came to - her towel (!)


I will finish up with one last story (there are many!!) Sarah and I had this uncanny knack of ending up in the toilets at the same time. Many times I would go into a cubicle and suddenly become aware of this sniffling noise (try giggling without using your vocal chords and with your mouth closed - you've got it). We would both make this sound when we suspected the identity of the other person, and on hearing the sound the other would roar with delighted laughter.


That's not the story, that's the scene setting (!) It so happened Sarah and I were in Borders one day and went to find the toilets. One was out of order, so i went in first while she stood outside by the sink. I had to change my top, for some reason. I cannot for the life of me remember why, but still. Making a joke about the fact we were in the toilets together, I started mock laughing very loudly.
'HA HA HA!' I roared. 'HO HO HO!' Then, 'I'M TAKING MY TOP OFF NOW! HA HA HA!'
Sarah was laughing outside but something was wrong. She was laughing quietly. I paused. 'Sarah?' I queried.
'Yes?' she replied.
'Are you alone?'
'No...'
'Ah,' I said, calmly. 'OK.'
The awful thing was that because the other loo was out of order, I had to come out of the cubicle (Sarah dashed in, purple with amusement), and then had to calmly wash my hands while the other woman stared straight ahead of her with a closed expression...but every now and then there was a faintest twitch on her lips....



Sarah, this entry is for you :)

the unravelling

There was an alumni day at our old theological college yesterday, so we made our first visit since Andy had graduated (the year after I did). I am so very glad we went, although I found it an emotional experience. It started even before we got there, the aching familiarity of the roads and the places which signified we were nearly there, things I used to note delightedly on returning at the beginning of each term. Because it was such a formative place for me, such a beloved place, and although it wasn't always easy, it was always somewhere I was utterly real, and safe to be so. And so it began before we even got there, a kind of unravelling, as the familiarity of such a place stole over me and made me realise how weary I really was - all the way through - and I was fighting tears even then.

The talks given by former lecturers - no longer there now but familiar to us - tugged at me, in various ways. I remained in this tearful state off and on all day, simultaneously laughing at it, self conscious and embarrassed by it - and yet I don't think they were destructive, unhelpful tears. It was more like suddenly finding an old, familiar, utterly trustworthy friend and falling into their arms in relief for a while - utterly honest about where you've been and how you are feeling.

The fatigue has become such a dominant factor in life, and I have gone on stoically, because I have to, but so often it frustrates me. Yesterday this welled up - but turned into something gentler, healthier, in a moment of utter safety. This was the place which always managed to tenderly uncover my bruises - those known to me and those not known, and by the support of friends found, brought healing and a sense of discovery.

And the buzz of being back in an environment where I learned so much - and loved to learn so much! It reminded me, impacted me, reinvigorated me for study of that which used to inspire and challenge me. I expected not to feel the same old fit - I have changed, and so has the college, a different student body, some changes in lecturers (but so wonderful to see the ones that remain!), but instead I found myself feeling a perfect fit, going back and feeling the same old feeling of both comfort and challenge, safety and discovery. I'm hoping to carry this feeling on...not to lose it, but recapture a part of me which has been worn down, worn out, left behind and given up...and if that journey occasionally means my eyes fill with tears of relief, pain and joy all at once, so be it.



Yesterday: 5/10, medium
Today: 4/10, medium - high