From the minister... 

Dear friends

Over the last year, I’ve felt a sense of excitement mingled with scepticism as the return of one of my favourite television programmes has loomed on the horizon. By the time you read this article, I will have some idea of which has been more justified, my wariness or my anticipation. To borrow the terminology of the show’s famous closing song, after almost twenty years off air Frasier has now ‘re-entered the building’.

For those of us of a certain age, Kelsey Grammer’s cranky and pretentious radio psychiatrist (along with his brother Niles and dad Marty) will forever be associated with a golden age of comedy. I still have vivid memories of Friday nights, in the days before catch-up, when Emma and I would stay in for Friends on Channel 4 at 9pm, before flicking over to BBC2 for Shooting Stars at 9:30pm, and then a switch back to Channel 4 for Frasier half an hour later. On several occasions we have sought to convince our children that there has never been such a time to be alive, but they remain unconvinced.

While part of me is curious to discover what’s happened to Frasier since his return to Boston, I also can’t escape a feeling that it would have been best to have let this work of comedic genius rest in peace. More often than not, when we try to return to the past we find that it doesn’t quite match our memories of it. At the beginning of lockdown, the BBC loaded onto i-Player a number of old box sets to help the British public through the months we would spend confined to our homes. We tried to watch a few shows from the nineties and noughties that we wouldn’t have missed back in the day, but invariably found them dated and slow paced. As the old joke goes, nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.

And yet so many of us find it hard to resist the thought that we can somehow recapture the spirit and success of bygone eras. This pattern can be discerned in more than just the world of television. We see it also in our politics, with figures in both of our major parties seeking to define themselves as inheritors of the spirit of Thatcher or Blair, and also in football, where clubs often recruit former players or managers from more successful eras.

And might it also be fair to suggest that the church is also a place where we often feel a longing to return to what worked in the past? Writers on mission often comment on the difference between revival and revivalism: one is defined by a new work of God, while the other is predicated on a desire to go back to  what worked in previous generations when our churches were fuller. Might it be possible to re-create the preaching stations that flourished in the ‘70s and ‘80s or the seeker-friendly services that were in vogue in the ‘90s? There is an obvious comfort in the thought that we can return to those times but our remembrance of them might also be blinding us to ways in which the world has now changed. The emergence of the internet and podcasts has replaced the preaching stations of yore and there’s an increasing scepticism in our society that will make many wary of presentations of faith that they might perceive as too slickly packaged.

The desire to return to the past was also experienced by those who lived in biblical times, not least the exiles of Israel who lamented the destruction of Jerusalem and their displacement to Babylon. Psalm 137 speaks of their grief at being forced to sing the Lord’s song in a strange land. How they must have longed for a return to Jerusalem and the old ways. And yet God’s word, when it came through Isaiah the prophet, told them to look in a different direction. Here’s Isaiah 43:18–19, as translated by the Old Testament scholar John Goldingay:

Don’t be mindful of the earlier events, don’t think about previous events.
Here am I, doing something new – do you not acknowledge it?
Yes, I will make a way in the wilderness, streams in the desert.

These beautiful words have brought comfort and hope to countless generations of God’s people, Jews and Christians alike, for thousands of years. It is striking that this promise of newness is made concrete in the example of new waterways emerging in the desert. What had previously been Israel’s greatest and defining experience of God’s deliverance is turned out in its head. Instead of the parting of the Red Sea and water giving way to dry land, now water will stream across the parched earth.

But with the promise comes a question: can we acknowledge and perceive the new thing? The last few years have been a time of immeasurable change for us, with the pandemic having altered attitudes to work and family life. Our church, along with others, has also changed. It is understandable that some of us might long for return of old, familiar patterns, but if we can lift our eyes and look around us I am sure we will also see signs of new ways that God is at work and new opportunities to speak to others of his love and goodness. Do we acknowledge it? Can we perceive it? 

Wishing you God’s grace and peace
Trevor