At Candlemas, we baptised Aelyn. She is four and a half, fiercely herself, and has always known her own mind. Baptism was no exception. She chose the music. She chose her godparents. She chose an “everything unicorns” outfit. We provided kazoos.
It was gloriously ecumenical: Church of England liturgy (adapted, of course), a Methodist preach, URC-led prayers, Roman Catholic and mostly Anglican godparents. Live music and recorded. Rainbows, laughter, grace.
During the service I was introduced to a line from the Methodist baptism liturgy: “Before ever you were known…”
Before achievement. Before opinion. Before argument. Before baptism. Before church.
The following week I sat through the pastoral paradox that is General Synod. Five days of debates and conversations that were at times faithful, at times frustratingly disconnected, at times deeply uncomfortable. And beneath it all that baptismal truth kept echoing.
We are known. Completely. Public and private selves. Courage and compromise. Conviction and confusion.
And loved, not because of what we do, say or believe correctly, but because we belong to God.
Lent often invites us into reflection. Many of us are holding complex feelings about the Church right now. About leadership. About justice. About whether we still recognise the institution we serve or worship within.
But before ever we were known by committees or congregations… before ever we were labelled conservative or progressive, ally or agitator, straight or queer, insider or outsider… we were known by God.
And loved.
That is the ground beneath our feet. That is the foundation that no vote can undo, no lack of courageous leadership can derail.
As we move into this season, may we rest there. May we act from there. May we speak from there.
You are so very loved. Before ever you were known.
May we not have to wait till our lives are nearly over, to see the love in every eye*. I commend this really short, yet incredibly powerful, final video from James Van Der Beek, who died last week. Many have been remembering him not simply for fame, but for the way he carried his identity with integrity and spoken allyship, gracious and courageous to the end. A reminder that being known by God and others in truth is a gift we’re called to reflect. A faithful ally and advocate for LGBTQ+ equality, this is him reflecting on his own journey of adjustment, acceptance and recalibration as he encounters his mortality and internalised ableism.
*Yes, I've paraphrased the song most connected to Dawson's Creek
https://youtube.com/shorts/K7y33c5WUEA?si=W-NCyqR5ZXE05yCJ |