Today we begin a two-week reflection on what it means to embrace our limits.
In this season of isolation our daily lives are constrained in particular ways. For months now we have been confined to our homes and neighbourhoods and it’s been challenging. Indeed, it can feel as though we’ve put our lives on hold.
The question we are asking in these two Sundays is this: What does it mean for people of faith to live well within limits? Today we explore that question in relation to our homes and next Sunday to our neighbourhoods.
Welcome to CSBC Online for Sunday September 20, 2020.
In today’s video Carolyn asks Simon Holt, Geoff Maddock and Sherry Maddock about what they imagine or hope for when they pray “your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” as Jesus taught. Thomas Cheok leads us in the Lord’s Prayer.
Peace and hope to you all today and in the week to come.
Today we pray for the world and for one another as Carolyn reflects on the story of Jacob’s struggle with the angel from the book of Genesis,
and David Cundy, Judy Morgan and David Morgan share their own stories of struggle. Thank you to Carolyn Newall for the beautiful scripture reading.
A reflection from Sherry Maddock, our Neighbourhood Engagement Coordinator and resident gardener.
I have always thought of seeds as a start, an origin point. Spring comes and it warms up and seeds embody the start of a season, the start of a plant’s life, the start of a relationship. Seeds are an enduring symbol of promise, something on its way in a very small package.
It wasn’t until I no longer had access to seeds (world-wide pandemic buying), that I went looking for them out in our Verandah Café garden. In search of future plants, I found both flowers and herbs with perfectly dried seed heads, waiting to be harvested. On this cold autumn day, I realised something for the first time – seeds begin at the end. It is not until the final stage of a plant’s life-cycle that seeds appear. Death prepares for life.
Thank goodness I found dried out flowers and pods standing ready to provide to the next generation a new version of themselves. Before I knew it, this errand of seed saving brought me hope. Hope and seeds are so closely related, the former materialised in the latter. Both promise something to come and contain so much unseen. Like hope, seeds hold time in captivity, demonstrating the power of dormancy and the wait for the right conditions.
For me, hope is a hard-earned present sense of longing that exists only for a future reality. Cultivated and experienced in the now, it is for something to come. A seed encapsulates hope – a tiny suitcase of goodness that unpacks itself in the future. Seeds are like genesis treasures; they have a priceless supply of life in exponential quantities, hosting all that is necessary for life to begin.
Today, in the presence of cold and tired plants, I witnessed the end of one life and the beginning of another. Life carries on through seeds. Seeds reassure us that we have what we need for next year.