As we look around us, in this time of COVID pandemic, we see a fearful and divided community. I believe we are called as a Church to speak into this fear and division, words and actions of love, peace and healing.

Dear friends,

“I don’t think he knows what mood he’s in today. It’s been a roller coaster.”

Message from my son about his (3 1/2 year old) dog this week.

I think it sums up what I’m hearing from a lot of people about how they are feeling at the moment. I’m sensing a lot of confusion - in one minute we might be angry that things are so messed up, and the next minute we might celebrate something new that we have had to learn to accomplish. One moment we might be pleased that we can stay at home to work (well, I don’t have to get out of my Ugg boots, and I can hang out the washing between meetings and tasks) and the next moment we are lamenting the lack of socialisation.

Dear friends,

It’s not my dog, I don’t have to take it for a walk.

Just before I went on leave recently, a colleague shared this saying with me. I am quite sure this colleague did not realise the impact it would have on me, and how often I would repeat it as a kind of mantra. I certainly didn’t expect that to be so when I frantically wrote it down “just in case I forgot it later.”

Dear friends,

How easy it is to judge! I was reading a Facebook post written by someone I respect hugely. She was writing about a recent experience in Melbourne with their current lockdown. Walking around her neighbourhood (for essential shopping and exercise), she wrote that she was angry and frustrated by the people gathering on footpaths and in parks, drinking and eating their takeaways together with no due respect to the rules about mask-wearing and physical distancing. She was honest enough to admit that her emotions arose in part from the long queues outside the places from which she wanted to get her own takeaway drink and food, and her sense of “righteousness” (my word, not hers) stemmed from the necessity of having to keep wearing her mask and keep walking back to her home.

On the wall near the café in Wesley Mission at 220 Pitt Street Sydney, you can read the following words attributed to John Wesley:

Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.

How do we do this 300 years post John Wesley’s plea? How can you make that difference in your own corner of the world, when you are dealing with your own issues, looking after family, juggling work and caring roles, and at times struggling with your own mental health issues that can strike any of us at any time?

Dear friends,

How are you? It’s a question that forms a natural part of greeting one another: “Hi, how are you?” rolls off our tongues readily, and often it seems there is little (if any) pause to listen to an answer. Mostly the reply is, “Hi, I’m fine. How are you?” Even when we are anything but fine. On occasions, when I’ve been aware that a person I’m greeting is actually not doing ok, I have sometimes repeated the question as “And how are you really?” This has been intended to invite a deeper, more meaningful response if the person would like to engage. The intent is to say, “I am here for you. I am listening. I care about you.”

Dear friends,

For a while there seemed some hope that the situation in NSW generally and Sydney specifically might ease within a few weeks. I feel a strong tendency toward disappointment and despair that it is still ongoing. And so, I pick up my “pen” to write the pastoral notes again, praying that they will offer hope and encouragement to others as well.

Dear friends,

Having a break, some time away from the business and busyness of work, no matter how much you might love what you do, is critical to refresh body, mind and spirit. (A small confession here — I’m very skilled at reminding others of the necessity of having time off, yet not so good at heeding my own wisdom!)