Have you ever stopped to think about sand? It's easy to overlook—stuck in your shoes after a day at the beach, brushed off without a thought. But sand, in its quiet way, preaches a powerful sermon about our God: A God of abundance and diversity. 1. Sand Is Abundant — Just Like God’s Blessings In the Bible, sand is often used as a metaphor for multitude, abundance and limitlessness. God told Abraham his descendants would be "like the sand on the seashore"—uncountable. Not because sand is inherently special, but because it’s everywhere. It's in deserts, on beaches, under rivers, and even in the air. So too are God’s blessings—daily, constant, and immeasurable. “How precious to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.” – Psalm 139:17–18 When life feels dry or barren, remember that abundance doesn’t always scream; sometimes it whispers underfoot, like sand. God’s love, provision, mercy, and presence are not rare commodities. They are all around us, often hidden in plain sight, waiting to be noticed. 2. Sand Is Diverse — Just Like God's Creation Take a closer look at sand from different places. You’ll find it comes in colours you wouldn’t expect—white, black, red, golden, even green. It’s made up of broken shells, crushed coral, volcanic rock, quartz, and minerals shaped over time. Each grain has a story. Each grain is unique. What a reflection of humanity. We are like the sand—many, yet individual. Diverse in background, appearance, language, and gifts, yet formed and held together by the hand of our Creator. Just as no two grains of sand are identical, no two lives are the same. Yet all are precious. All belong. In God’s kingdom, diversity isn’t a problem to be solved—it’s a design to be celebrated. 3. Sand Shifts — But God Stands Firm Sand can be unstable, shifting with the wind or the tide. That’s why Jesus warned about building a house on it (Matthew 7:26). But here’s the grace: even in its instability, sand serves a purpose. It softens waves, cushions feet, and hosts ecosystems. Just like us, sand isn’t perfect—but God still uses it. Our lives might feel uncertain, tossed like grains in a storm. But when we’re grounded in Christ, even the shifting moments are used for His glory. A Final Thought Next time you're at the beach or see a handful of sand, pause. Feel its texture. Let it fall between your fingers. Marvel at its numbers, its colours, its origins. Then remember: God sees every grain. And He sees you—with love, with purpose, and with delight. Prayer: Lord, thank You for being a God of abundance and diversity. Help us see Your hand in the ordinary things of life—even in the grains of sand. Teach us to trust Your provision, honour each other's uniqueness, and build our lives on the rock of Christ. Amen.

We are slowly getting to grips with the manse garden. We have transplanted gooseberries, planted a few new plants and are looking to see what plants come up over the year. So far, we have had poppies, primroses and oak tree saplings. We have also discovered that the ground is hard and very stony, making it almost impossible to dig. But we do have a plethora of ‘weeds’. A weed is simply a plant that is in the wrong place, where we don’t want it to grow. Oddly the plants we call weeds are cherished elsewhere. I was reading how in Singapore one plant sells for large amounts of money and is carefully cultivated. In the heat of Singapore it is difficult to grow, but the bright yellow explosion of colour, the delicate windblown parachutes holding the seeds and the health giving properties of the young leaves which can be used in salads makes this plant appealing. Add to this the important nectar providing food for pollinating insects and bees, this plant is an all-round winner. What is this wonderful horticultural miracle? The Dandelion. A plant we regard as a scourge and regularly try to destroy. It is interesting that adverts for weed killers focus on this humble plant. And yet our weed killers while not only destroying the plant, also kill the pollinating insects on which the whole ecosystems of the world depend. Without pollinators we would not have bread on our tables, fruit or even grain to feed the animals which in turn provide us with meat and dairy produce. We might hate the dandelion, because it grows in our lawns upsetting our sense of neatness and homogeneity. We like our gardens orders, weed free, single specimens of plants in a desert of sterile soil. We hate dandelions because we have not grown them, we cannot control where their seeds fall and germinate. They explode through cracks in the concrete and paving, they make their home on the roadsides, in gutters, playing fields and pristine lawns. What is there to love about a dandelion? We are called to care for ALL creation, including the humble dandelion and the many insects which feed on its rich nectar, insects that rely on the early blooms of the dandelion which burst into flower in early spring when few other nectar rich plants are available. We might say that we don’t like insects, we use insecticides with impunity, simply because we do not like them, we cannot control their behaviour, they look strange with their erratic flying, their many eyes and legs. God declares in Genesis that all the plants, insects, birds, animals, were good, in fact ‘very good’. Moreover God says that there is nothing that God has created that he does not love, it is impossible for God to hate anything he has created. And we, as humans are created in the image and likeness of God, so just as God loves the whole of creation, so should we. What struck me about the story of Singapore gardeners prizing the humble dandelion is that we have the habit of not valuing what we are given. We have been given a beautiful plant that is packed full of health-giving benefits, and yet we choose to ignore it, or eradicate it. If this is what we do with God’s creation, it is only a small step towards treating other people in the same way. If they don’t fit in with our plans, if they appear a little different, if they are not like us, we seek to remove them from our ‘gardens’, be that our communities, or our churches. How many people have left the church because they were made to feel unwelcome, even if unintentionally or subtlety? How many have never darkened the door of the church out of fear that they would be unwelcome because of their ‘difference’? Perhaps we ought to take note of the Singapore gardeners valuing of something we take for granted. Perhaps we ought to look at the plants, even if we call them ‘weeds’, as something precious, God created and ‘very good’. Maybe if we respected all life, then the problems we have with declining insect populations, the rapid decline in British mammals and garden birds, together with the looming problems associated with the decline in pollinators, would go. Finally, I discovered this poem on the internet courtesy of the Rev. Steve Chalke. ‘If bees were extinct, the ecosystem would collapse. If ants were extinct, the ecosystem would collapse. If birds were extinct, the ecosystem would collapse. If humans were extinct, the rest of life on Earth would flourish.’

The Pear Tree and new hope

I love Lent, not because of its connection with fasting and lack of chocolate, but because of its promise of new beginnings and Spring. ‘Lent’ comes from the Old English word for Spring, and the season of Lent coincides with a lean time: the winter vegetables are coming to an end, and we eagerly await the first new potatoes, beans, and asparagus. Traditionally Lent also coincides with the season of Spring cleaning. While we associate Ash Wednesday and Lent as a time of repentance, it isn’t about being guilt ridden or sorrowful. Rev Mark Clavier at St Mary’s, Brecon reminds us: ‘Lent is a season of repentance, but repentance isn’t the heavy, guilt-ridden burden we sometimes make it out to be. The Greek word metanoia, often translated as ‘repentance’ means a change of mind, a turning of the heart. It is not about wallowing in failure, but about turning back toward the love that’s never stopped pursuing us.’ It's now four months since we moved to Camberley. When we moved in, the kitchen was bright and sparkly, the windows were clean, and everything looked fresh. Four months later, we have noticed that the windows need a good clean, nooks and crannies that get missed in the general day-to-cleaning have gathered dust and dirt, and not everything looks as spick and span was it was. So, we have been Spring cleaning, emptying cupboards and reorganizing, tidying the garden, gradually returning the house to its bright, sparkly self. That is what repentance is. And is it an ongoing project, because the carpet will need hoovering, the floors, washing, the surfaces dusted and cleaned. The same goes for the chapel building. Unused rooms have been gradually cleaned and put back to use, the main kitchen has been cleaned, and the back hall is in the process of being cleaned, the toys sorted and put away and the rooms being made ready for use again. Ready for the hoped for, new birth of community building in this place. And that’s the thing about Lent and repentance. Like Spring cleaning, it involves some hard work, but with it, the promise of satisfying results. In our personal lives we can look back to see where the dust and grime of life has clouded our vision, made us a bit hard-hearted or brittle, or dampened our joy, taking our focus away from the love of God who forgives us even before we have asked. Lent is a time to look back and start to retread the path we were originally taking to abundant life. It’s a time to get rid of all the things that bind us, so that we can live in the promise of Spring and renewed life. So, when do I get my fix of chocolate to celebrate?

The Repair Shop' - A reflection Do you by any chance watch a programme called, ‘The Repair Shop’ on BBC1? It’s a gentle programme with a simple concept. People bring their cherished family items to a team of experts for restoration and repair; often objects with great meaning, sentimental and emotional attachment. A team of talented, expert and sensitive craftsmen and women from all fields then restore them with great love and sensitivity to something approaching their original look, feel and purpose. The skill of these people is amazing and part of the appeal of the show is watching them work, using tried and trusted techniques and equipment. What is more wonderful and spellbinding though is the reaction of the people who bought the item in when they see their cherished item as it was in their youth, bringing back wonderful memories and often healing and restoration of the person themselves. I haven’t seen this restoration on the programme before but there is a particular art form / craft, originally from Japan called ‘Kintsugi’. Kintsugi, also known as Kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. From something that was broken, something beautiful is reborn. The scars of brokenness visible as part of the restoration and healing. In the book of Ephesians Chapter 2 v 10, we are told that “we are God’s masterpiece.” Some versions say “workmanship.” Elsewhere, we are told that he is the potter, and we are the clay. We get a real sense that God is creative and tender as he, like a craftsman shapes us and forms us into his masterpiece; the version of ourselves that we were meant to be. Today you may not feel like a masterpiece. Your hair may be in a state of emergency. Your house may be a mess; it maybe all you can manage to undertake the necessities on a day-to-day basis. Maybe you intended to improve yourself in some way but all you have managed to do is watch reruns of old sitcoms. Nevertheless, you are God’s masterpiece simply because this is what he says we are. Life itself can damage us. Our mental health can suffer as we strive out of a sense of misplaced duty or guilt to do more than God is asking us to do, especially at this time in our lives. Emotional and spiritual wounds can run deep in our lives. We can cover up the cracks by putting on a fresh coat of paint or by gluing things together haphazardly. Running repairs that do not really work. We can put on a mask to show others the face we want them to see. To the question “how are you,” we often say fine but don’t really mean it; thinking that the one asking will think less of us if we answer honestly. We all carry wounds, we all carry baggage, we all bear scars of some sort. But remember that God is the great healer and physician, he knit us together in our mothers’ wombs; he knows us better than we know ourselves. He can repair us and restore us with tenderness and compassion and sensitivity transforming us into that person he always intended us to be; his masterpiece. We have noticed that in the ‘repair shop’ the restored items that are returned to their owners often still bear the scars of ‘war’ that have been sensitively left; as they are part of the item’s history and past. Much like the kintsugi bowl above which though showing wounds is a thing of beauty. When you think about it, Christ retained his scars in his resurrection body for all to see. Thomas was invited to put his fingers in the wounds, and it was by his wounds that Christ was recognised. The scars that Jesus kept were the scars of a wounded healer; one who has bought life, liberation and hope to us all. In a strange way the wounds which we carry bring hope to others to As we draw our thoughts and reflections together this week, please draw strength from the fact that you are God’s masterpiece. Yes, a work in progress maybe but nevertheless his masterpiece. And in those times that you feel worse than useless; not good enough; when all those negative accusing voices crowd out the sensible, sane thoughts. Then we need to hear a simple message. "Be still and know that I am God. Allow him to bring you the healing, hope and strength that you need currently. This will involve the need to do something which we are not always very good at (me included!), being still. Because he knows us better than we know ourselves and what is best for us; we need above all else to: ‘Let go and let God’ With love from Richard and Fran at Camberley Baptist Church Edited from personal Facebook post, dated 5 May 2020.

Broken and Forgotten Things. Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken cups with gold, and over recent years has become a ‘thing’, fashionable to the point where there are classes and objects are deliberately broken in order to repair in that style. The Repair Shop restores other broken things…guitars, shoes, soft toys, paintings, gates, clocks etc. Each item has a story and despite being broken is still cherished by the owners who long to see the beloved item restored to its former glory. But what about the broken things are forgotten? Coming into a ‘new’ church as ministers has given us permission to explore the buildings, find hidden corners, give everything a clean. There in the back of a cupboard were the remains of the old communion set; a large wine jug inscribed with the name of the church and the date (1894), old communion plates, and a chalice, or rather half a chalice. The cup was in one cupboard, the stem in another. As Baptists, like many non-conformists, small individual glasses are used for communion. This was because of the influenza pandemic of 1918, combined with the post WW1 availability of cheap glass. It was seen as being more hygienic than the congregation sharing one cup. (In the Welsh Valleys, with the production of cheap tin and steel, tiny plates were used, each one sitting on top of the small glass and holding a perfectly cut slice of bread, so that no one would needlessly touch the bread.) So, the symbolism of drinking from one cup, (and eating from one loaf), was consigned to non-conformist history, rather like the chalice found at the back of the cupboard. Our communion cup is unusable, although the metal has deteriorated so that it would not be safe to drink from, in its current state it could not even act as a symbol of our collective unity as a church. Camberley is fortunate to have a monthly volunteer repair café, so we took our broken chalice along to see if anyone would be able to fix it. The volunteers were fascinated to find something that belongs to Camberley’s heritage, the chapel is one of the oldest buildings and institutions in the town. In many ways the broken chalice is symbolic of a church that people have forgotten, many people didn’t know where the Baptist church was. However, the volunteers did sterling work straightening the dented stem, allowing the two halves to meet together. Unfortunately, we were not able to solder the pieces together, but with some ingenuity the cup has been attached to the stem using a wine cork, so that the cup can stand up at least. The handles are too delicate to be used to hold the cup, and the inside of the cup is rusted, but over Christmas the cup stood on the communion table filled with holly and evergreens, symbolizing our Christian hope of eternal life in the depths of winter. Often as small churches we might feel broken and forgotten, we are unable to continue the many activities we remember doing, either because of lack of resources or simply because we lack the people, finances, or energy to do so. As individuals we might feel the same way, particularly as we age and physically cannot do the things we did when much younger. But God has not consigned us to a forgotten cupboard, leaving us in pieces or unusable. Instead God takes the shattered pieces of our brokenness and remakes us, giving us a new purpose, a new way of being. Just as the communion cup is no longer usable for drinking, it still stands as a symbol of the church’s togetherness, with each other and Christ. It still speaks of faithfulness, pointing to the history of the church and the hope for the future. Our small churches do the same thing, symbolizing God’s actions in a community and the faithfulness of the community. As individuals we carry the same message; we carry the stories of God’s faithfulness and healing and seek to bring those stories to a new generation, speaking into the future of the community. The people of Israel had lived in exile for many years, separated from their land and heritage by the might of the Babylonian empire. They felt broken and forgotten. Into their suffering Isaiah spoke: ‘Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hid from the LORD and my right is disregarded by my God”? Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.’ (Is 40:27-28) And later he says: ‘Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?’ Sometimes we have to wait in the darkness until God opens the door and brings healing and a new purpose to our lives, but we are not kept waiting forever. For the exiles in Babylon their wait may have seemed like eternity, but they were not forgotten by God, and neither are we. God brought them out of exile, repaired them and although they were never the same as they were before the armies of Babylon invaded and took them away, they were restored, made anew and given a new purpose. The same goes for us. We are not forgotten, we will not be left broken and useless, but given a new commission and purpose as we are healed by God.

Advent 3 It was a long coming. A hope extending through generations. Ebbing and flowing, like the tide, clawing at the sands of time. Waiting. The waiting was long. Silent signals: signs of the times and seasons, something growing, the verge of a promise, a hidden mystery. Waiting. In the darkness a flame flickered, a taper. More smoke than fire. Prayers, like incense, words, like oil, Holy Breath: all kindling the secret spark. Silently, the night stirs, stars take their cues in creation’s welcome dance. Fields, filled with shepherds, receive heavenly hosts. For one moment, in one place, Good News overflows with the promise of peace on earth … Unnoticed, amongst the lowly lowing of cattle and the timid bleating of a lamb. Within the cramped confines of flesh and bone, Deity dwells in human form. Emmanuel: God with us. And now it is He who waits … Graham Oakes - Blackwood Baptist Church