I had the privilege to meet with some friends this week to discuss the book ‘Advent Conspiracy’. The book describes ways that the writers have found to make Christmas feel more meaningful. Instead of getting caught up in the trap and the pressure of consumerism, we should use this month, they say, in the lead up to Christmas, trying to worship and love more fully, and trying to spend less on our own circle of family and friends but instead giving more to those who really need it. The book is crammed with examples of people who have made their own presents, who have given generously to charity and who have looked out for people in need in their own communities.

It is an inspiring and convincing book (though, I must confess, the thought of making my own presents fills me with a bit of dread). I think it is what we all want. Meaning. Even those of us who are determined to go all out for a Christmas with all the trimmings. What we might not agree on is how to get there.

But do I really think that less is always more? Even with kids? As we were talking about the book, we were sharing some of our favourite childhood Christmas presents. I remembered the year that my Grandpa made us a log cabin doll’s house, just like Little House on the Prairie. But after my friends left, I started to remember lots of homemade gifts: a life-sized cloth doll with orange yarn hair, a box of dressing-up clothes, a heart shaped, crocheted cushion embellished with a ‘K’, some doll’s beds made out of cotton spools.

Now, I know it was a very long time ago, but I remember really liking those gifts.

Maybe we have more power than we realise to create our own ‘Christmas culture’ but as someone said last night, it would be easier to do together. The default position is backed by a mighty advertising and cultural force. To do something different won’t be easy, but a meaningful Christmas is what we really want, right?

So, thank you, friends, who by your example make it easier for me to stand firm. Your stories of lighting advent candles in dark kitchens, of looking for ways to welcome those who have nowhere to go, of making amazing creations out of old tights, and of the ways that you are trying to listen to God every day this month have given me a lot of Christmas hope.

The Northumbria community suggests printing out this prayer and placing in front of our own nativity scenes at home. It’s one thing I’m going to do to bring more meaning this Christmas.

I open the stable door;
I kneel before the infant;
I worship with the shepherds;
I adore the Christ child.
I give my love with Mary and Joseph;
I wonder at the ‘Word made flesh’.
I am aware of the love of God;
I sing glory with the angels;
I offer my gifts with the wise men.
I receive the living Lord;
I hold Him in my hands;
I go on my way rejoicing,
Glorifying and praising God.
(David Adam)

Call:  Who is it that you seek?

Response:  We seek the Lord our God.

Call:  Do you seek him with all your heart?

Response:  Amen.  Lord, have mercy.

Call:  Do you seek him with all your soul?

Response:  Amen.  Lord, have mercy.

Call:  Do you seek Him with all your strength?

Response:  Amen.  Christ have mercy.

Anyone who has met our two boys will know that they aren’t quiet, sitting still, craft-loving types.  Any chance they get, they are outside playing football or else racing or wrestling each other.  They are embodied in a way that I have forgotten how to be (or maybe never even knew how to be).

That is why it came as a complete surprise to me how well they responded to spending a few days with the Northumbria Community last week.  The Northumbria Community is a ‘new monastic’ group of people who live and work together, and meet for a regular rhythm of prayer based on Celtic Christian traditions.

We were planning to just dip into the prayer there, and maybe take it in turns between us to look after the boys and go along to join the community when we could.  But the boys didn’t just put up with the prayer times.  They loved them.  They didn’t want to miss any.

What was it?

It was partly being part of a community.  The people there made a point to learn their names and to include them.

It was partly following a written form of prayer.  They followed along the words with their fingers and joined in at the right times.  We were all equals in that sense.

It was also a sense of sincerity and integrity.  There was no pretence, no extra words; just simple faithfulness.  We sat on sofas in a sitting room.  We sang unaccompanied.

I honestly wouldn’t have predicted their response, which just goes to show that maybe I attempt to ‘translate’ faith too much for the boys, instead of giving them a go at the real thing.  I’m not saying that they don’t enjoy crazy action songs, puppets, games, drama and all the other usual ingredients of children’s Christian stuff.  But they were touched in a new way at the Northumbria Community.  We all were.   And the sung responses (like at the top) are echoing round all of our heads and in our hearts and maybe moving us on to deeper things.

Here’s a soundtrack go along with this one:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tqhlp9dOvYA&feature=related

The other morning I got up at dawn to go to a prayer group in our town.  As I cycled through the peaceful streets (at an hour, I must confess, that I had never seen them before) I was overcome with gratitude for living in such a beautiful, idyllic place.  Literally half a second after that thought, a sparrowhawk whizzed past my face and dropped a stunned and dying little bird right next to my bicycle wheel.  So much for paradise.

We all know that life is mixed.  Perhaps as I grow older I realise this more and more (or maybe it’s just that I am more able to face this instead of hiding away in a fantasy world or a dream world).

What is even harder to learn (and something we sometimes go to great lengths to avoid facing) is that we ourselves are quite mixed.  Who really likes looking in the mirror?

Is it just me, or have you ever been on what should be a perfect day out – beautiful weather, great location, loved companions – but then your own grumpiness almost ruins the whole day?

Or have you ever wanted to show love to someone and then done something which turned out to be just the opposite?

They were on to this in the first century: ‘I want to do what is right, but I can’t. I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.’ That’s in the Bible (Romans).

Ugh.  Just sing along to the song if you are getting depressed at this point.

Life is messy, but our hope has got to be that we are being changed, bit by bit.  I can’t imagine the day when I’ll be able to look in the mirror with complete approval for all that I am but, the Bible presents this as a reality. Anyone who turns to God ‘is being transformed into God’s image with ever-increasing glory’ (2 Corinthians).

I’m on my way, on my way
Every day a little closer on my way
I’m on my way, on my way
I’m running, I’m loving, I’m stumbling on my way

Why is it that it seems that the minute I make a decision to do something good or to be a better person in some way, I seem to do the opposite? Can anyone else relate to this?

A week ago we were at New Wine for the first time.  It’s a Christian festival, or maybe it’s more of a massive revival tent meeting or it could be just an opportunity for hundreds of kids to whizz round a campsite on bikes – gloriously unsupervised.  In any case, it was good.

I think what I liked best was spending a short time with people who actually believe that they are God’s equipment.   They are God’s way to make their communities better, they are the people God will use to speak words of love to people who are hurting, they are the healers, the listeners, the movers and the dreamers.  They aren’t waiting for someone else to do it.  And they have the hope to believe it is possible.

Some pretty incredible stories were told but what struck me the most were the things I saw with my own eyes.  I watched an elderly woman completely prostrate herself on the floor in worship.  I walked past the crèche and saw someone walking around praying blessings on all the babies and their parents.  When I told Michael (9) that my foot was hurting he offered to pray for it.  When I told him the next day that I thought it was a bit better, he said, with glee ‘ I must have the Holy Spirit!’

Inspired though I was, back home after a (good) week with (lovely) visitors, I don’t feel like I’m much further along.  After winning his second gold medal, Mo Farah said it was ‘just hard work and grafting’.  But he also mentioned the cheering crowds and the support of coaches, family and friends.

I want my life to be an Olympic Stadium of positive support to the people I meet, but I think I’ll need a few cheering crowds to get there myself.

An inflatable slide has given me a lot to think about this week.  I’d better explain.

 A friend of mine came up with the idea of getting her church to offer a free bouncy slide at a community event as a way engaging with their neighbours and talking to people about the different things going on at the church.  However, as the date grew closer, she realised that, for various reasons, she didn’t have many volunteers willing to be the friendly face of the church at the event.  The slide was already booked.  What should she do?

With a team of friendly volunteers, the slide was a brilliant idea.  Without the people, though, it was, well, just a free bouncy slide. (Can you tell that I did a Philosophy course at college?)

It made me think.  How much of what I do is, in effect, just a free bouncy slide – nice but for no real purpose?  How much of what the church does can be perceived in the same way?

Don’t get me wrong, I think a bouncy slide can fit very well with our message.  Jesus said that God’s kingdom belongs to children and even that adults should become like children if they want a share of it too.  The Bible describes God enjoying and delighting in creation and sending the Spirit to stir up life in us.  Very bouncy slide-ish.

After all, Jesus gave people free picnics and free wine and seems to have spent a lot of time hanging out with his friends.  But he didn’t leave it there.  He also healed people.  He also saw things as they really were and lovingly spoke the truth to people.

Consider the example of Jesus’ encounter with a (non-Jewish) woman by the side of a well.  ‘You don’t know what God wants to give you’, he says.   That’s not really small talk.  That stops her in her tracks.  It stops me, just thinking about it.

I’m all for offering the world free bouncy slides.  Who knows?  Maybe a few more bouncy slides would go a long way to solving some of the world’s problems.  But I know there is more than that. I know that God wants to give infinitely more.

This morning, Michael ran off ahead of me on the way to school as he usually does. (It seems there is something shameful about arriving at the school gates with your mum if you are nine.)

As I watched him running off, I saw him stop and turn and smile and say ‘hello’ to Nada.  I don’t know if I have ever felt more proud.

Nada is recently from Saudi Arabia and wears hijab and niqab ( I think those are the terms – in any case she is completely covered, apart from her eyes).  No one ever speaks to her on the playground and children, not surprisingly, often stare.  That is why a few months ago I started to try to attempt very simple conversations with her which involve a lot of gestures and smiles.  She has been round for coffee and has invited the boys and me to her home, too.

I never told Michael that he should be friendly to Nada.  He just picked that up.

All the books about youth work that I am reading at the moment say something very similar.  Children and young people are influenced by who we are.  It is both frightening and wonderful.

When we moved into our new house last Autumn, there was one thing we loved straight away:  the stairs.  They’re lit by a large window and have a relatively spacious landing (for a modestly sized house).  There is also a curious little cupboard half-way up.

This became our prayer stair and symbol for the way that we want to live but don’t always achieve.  The cupboard now holds some Bibles (children’s versions and various translations), a candle, a cross and some other things to hold, a ‘prayer dial’ to help children and parents pray together some photos of people we want to remember to pray for regularly, and the inside of the cupboard doors are covered in post-its (Bruce Almighty- style) of some current prayer needs.

Most of the time, though, we just walk up and down our stairs and forget to pause.  A lot like the rest of life.

The idea for this blog was to write about things that emerge from a life centred in prayer.  Instead it will have to be things that emerge from a life that wants to be centered in prayer, that wants to pause on the prayer stair more often and wants to find more time for listening.