Back on my first official day at work I received an email for the entire staff. It informed us that Jack, the Anglican Communion UN Representative, had brought in coffee cake for the office. As a chronic sweet tooth and lover of coffee cake, I trotted off to the kitchen for an afternoon snack. What I found was not coffee cake. It was a cake with frosting...and nuts. No cinnamon-y bread, brunch food goodness. What was this nonsense? A bit later I ran into Jack and his assistant, Chris, and expressed my confusion. I ended up only sharing the confusion as I realized that the U.K. definition actually made more sense. "So coffee cake isn't flavored like coffee?" Jack asked. "Uh...no...Its flavored with cinnamon." I explained. "And it isn't cake?" Chris asked. "No...its more of a bread. But you serve it with coffee!" My attempt to save my definition of coffee cake from utter lunacy failed, to say the least. Thus launched the ever growing list of idiosyncratic difference that plague my existence. On the upside, they also provide easy small talk topics. As much as I try to assimilate, occasionally my vocabulary betrays me. And from time to time, so does my spelling (seriously, what is the point of these extra 'u's and replacing 'z's with 's's?). Then again, spelling was never my strong suit. Joking aside, it makes me think. At least for me, these differences are something of a quirk. My stubborn insistence that my vernacular isn't insane endears me to the people I meet in the UK. At the same time, how much more of a difference in vocabulary would it take before it creates a barrier? Language is something that is essential to cultural understanding and connection. And the distrust of a different tongue is something ancient, even Biblical. It is the product of a fallen world. Genesis relates the story of the Tower of Babel, the tower that the people of the world attempted to build to reach heaven. It also says that God confused their language so they would not understand each other or be able to finish the tower. Their sin was not their initiative as a united people, but the pride that inspired them to compare themselves to God. Pride, the desire to be like God, these are the things that separated God from humankind in the first place. And sin always comes with a cost. According to the story of Babel, the loss of communication, and the difficulty to work together is that cost. London is diverse a city as any, with neighborhoods and burrows entirely dominated by one culture or another. We seek out our own, because we desire to be understood. We desire to be known. But never are we more known than through the love of Christ. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. -1 Corinthians 13:12 And if through God we are truly known and loved, then surely through God, we can truly be known and loved by each other as well. It is through God that we care for the stranger, the widow, the hungry, the lost. Accepting the love of God in our lives allows us to love each other, and accept those differences--whether that is a different definition of "coffee cake" or entirely different languages.
All those lovely words aside, there are some things that one should just learn and assimilate to. Just compliment someone in London on their "pants," I dare you.
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Fast forward seven years to now, where I'm living in London, working for the Anglican Communion, on a year of mission. But what does that mean? I find it hard to remind myself that I am deserving of the term "mission." I compare myself to my fellow YASC-ers, as they work in schools in Costa Rica, in communities in the Philippines, minister to seafarers from across South East Asia, work for the Cathedral in Liverpool. Then there is my life in London, one of the world's most dynamic cities. I work in an office, walk through a shopping centre as part of my commute, sit in coffeeshops conducting interviews on London's southbank. How is that mission? If mission is meant to be a time of drudgery, of discomfort, of suffering, and exclusively that, then we are forgetting one of the many callings of Christians. That's not to say that mission doesn't take us to the far corners of the earth, that it isn't ever uncomfortable or dangerous. But it isn't always. Mission can be in our own back yard. It can be Albany. It can be in Tanzania. It can be in Potsdam. It can be in London. Jesus desires relationship with us, and desire that we are in relationship with each other. Theologian N. T. Wright puts this quite well; he discusses how the Church is meant to worship God and work for his world. Okay, worship, we know what that is. And working for his kingdom in this world, sounds like mission to me. But he also expresses a third charge, that we are to build each other up. Wright calls this fellowship, but it seems to me that there is a connection between fellowship and mission. How can minister to the world if we aren't ministered to ourselves? So, as I remind myself, my time in London with the Anglican Communion Office isn't a year I'm goofing off in a trendy city. It is a year that I am giving my time and talents to minister to my fellow Anglicans around the world, to raise them up, and to strengthen the bonds that hold us together. The church exists primarily for two closely correlated purposes: to worship God and to work for his kingdom in the world ... The church also exists for a third purpose, which serves the other two: to encourage one another, to build one another up in faith, to pray with and for one another, to learn from one another and teach one another, and to set one another examples to follow, challenges to take up, and urgent tasks to perform. This is all part of what is known loosely as fellowship. -N.T.Wright To be honest, sometimes this posting isn't an easy, cushy job either. While yes, these last 4 months in London have been some of the best of my life, parts of this job are incredibly difficult. This Communion is a network of cultures and peoples who all worship the same Lord and God. And yet, our differences are vast. I hear about the tension in the Church, and I feel the pain of it. Again, I am a nine year old girl, hearing about the tension in the Episcopal Church many years ago. As a part of the communications team, my role is strengthen and encourage the relationships around the Communion, not ignoring our differences, but focusing on our shared faith. These stories that we share-whether in the Anglican World magazine or on our social media channels or on the Anglican Communion News Service- they remind us to hold up and encourage each other in the faith. And that is mission. And why does this really matter? Well, as we say during the Communion service: "We who are many are one Body, because we all share in the One Bread." Everyday, my life with the Anglican Communion Office is a new reminder of the power of the Gospel around the world. The staff of the Anglican Communion Office--or those of us in the country that day--worship together regularly. In the morning we read Morning Prayer from the Church of England Book of Common Worship, and in the middle of the day we share Communion or midday prayer. My favourite service, however, is the Friday afternoon Litany of Reconciliation.
We live in a world ravaged by greed, war, corruption, death. It is a world in dire need of forgiveness and renewal. Read through your Facebook feed or browse a news site, and you face story after story of refugees without shelter, children without food, nations on the brink of war. But reconciliation is much more profound than that. We are always in a process of approaching the cross. Living as a Christian in this world is a strange balance of being made right with and reconciled to God, and yet still living a life affected by a sinful world. Because we are human, we always stumble, always fall away from the Lord. Sometimes, we trip. We get in an argument with our roommate, or gossip about a co-worker. It’s easy. And yet, it always affects our lives, and the lives of those around us. Sometimes we fall flat on our face. We lobby for our own agenda, or support a meaningless war to our own ends. No matter the sin, the death of Christ has the power to redeem us, if we let it. In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul explains “For our sake he made him who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Cor. 5:21) Sin always has an effect in our lives, but when we approach the cross of Jesus Christ, it no longer has power. Jesus Christ died on the cross for the salvation of the world, all our sins, big and small, the ones that we’ve committed and the ones we have yet to commit, were reconciled. My favourite lines from the Litany for Reconciliation are below. Each line of the litany speaks into the modern day, just as much as they spoke into the post WWII era: The hatred which divides nation from nation to possess what is not their own, Father forgive So how do we overcome the sin in our world, the sin that divides us, that causes us to ignore those who most need our love? The same way we overcome arguments between siblings, and misunderstandings between friends. We allow Christ to entered our lives, and surrender to him, because truthfully, we can find no reconciliation unless it is through Him. It is through the reconciliation of Jesus Christ on the cross that we get a glimpse of the world to come, a world free from hate and sin. Steadfast love and faithfulness meet; |
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Me: Amelia BrownAvid runner & baker, following God's call to year of mission and service work in the Episcopal Church & Anglican Communion. Archives
August 2018
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