Our readings this week are 2 Kings 5:1-14 and Luke 10:1-11, 16-20.  

I have a particular fondness for this passage from Kings.  Towards the end of my training I was on a retreat at Lee Abbey, in Devon.  And I was struggling with what was going on inside me.  I had this growing sense of being called to ministry in a rural, multi-parish setting - that's where my heart, my spirit, was heading.  But I had a firm and absolute belief that such a setting was impossible - that I couldn't do it, that if I went to such a place, tried to be a Vicar in such a place, then I would inevitably fail.

So I was in Lee Abbey, with this tension growing inside me - and I sought a quiet place to pray.  I took myself into the chapel, when no one else was around and started just telling God how I was feeling.  It was a proper rant of a prayer - an outpouring of frustration, and anger, and fear - and as I prayed I wept.  And in that place, in that moment, somehow it was this reading from Kings that shone a light.  2 Kings 5:13, to be precise, "Sir, if the prophet had told you to do something very difficult wouldn't you have done it?"

At first glance maybe that sounds like an encouragement to get on with something hard - but where I was, that's not how I heard it.  I heard echoed back at me Naaman's refusal to do what he was told by God.  It didn't matter that in his case it was something really easy (go wash in a river) and in mine it was something that felt impossible (go be a vicar in a rural patch) - both of us were saying "no".  And the reason we were both saying no was because we thought we knew better than God - Naaman 'knew' a healing shouldn't be won so easily, I 'knew' that what I was being asked to do was ridiculous, because it couldn't be done well, certainly not by me.

But while I was still wrestling, still weeping, Naaman had got on and done what he was told - and found a new way, through his obedience, of relating to the God who loved him.

And so I heard, eventually, that it isn't about what we think is best - and it may not even be about happy endings - it's just about saying "Yes" and trusting that God knows what he's about.  As that prayer drew to a close, I wrote this:

"I must be willing to look silly/stupid/inept, offer all that I am, trust that all of me can be used, actually take risks, learn to fail... So I seek authenticity and openness, and a new self - based on truth, not a lie: "I am a beloved child of God" ... I'm angry because I'm being asked to go where I might fail - but if I'm being asked to go even that failure (should it happen) must be what is required.  That is not for me to know - for me is to say yes and to trust."

For what it's worth, I still think being a Vicar of rural multi-parish benefice is a ridiculous and impossible task!  And I have no idea whether I am succeeding or failing (I don't think those terms are even vaguely relevant any more) - though I'm sure opinions out there vary considerably on that point.  I don't say that because I'm looking for affirmation or abuse - this isn't therapy! - I've shared what I've shared because I want you to know that I know what it's like to be going where we don't know, treading where we fear, and being asked to move by hope without certainty.  

I know what it means to step beyond a comfort zone, to compromise, and to surrender my vision of my future.  I know.  But I decided on that day to do all of that by trusting in Him who will succeed wherever I mess up, who will still have his hand on history when I'm long gone from this earth, who will not - no matter my mistakes or successes - see His purposes fail.  For me is to say yes, and to trust.  I really hope you'll join me on the adventure.