Trouble Brewing: The Great Refreshment Debate Continues

Remember [THIS] quite provocative post about whether or not we charge for refreshments? Which side of the fence are you on? Which side is your church on? Think the matter is all wrapped up? Think again…

A friend and fellow colleague of mine from the Diocese of Leeds, has plenty to add to the ‘after service hospitality’ debate, but she’s looking at it from another angle. Not the cost, but the quality.

I’d like to share her article with you, to see whether these thorny issues exist in our churches here in the Diocese of Durham. Let me know what you think in the comments section. Perhaps the debate about after service refreshments has only just begun…

Jo Beacroft-Mitchell writes:

“Ever had one of those conversations where you thought you were talking about one thing but it turned out that what you were actually talking about was something else entirely?

Twitter went a bit manic today when a seemingly innocuous discussion about Coffee and its general quality in church uncovered a seemingly bottomless well of discontent and frustration – which it turns out isn’t really about coffee at all!

The collective conversation which ensued is too lengthy to repeat here – suffice to say that the potential for a book exploring the subject in-depth was mooted as a possibility. But in a nutshell the flow of the conversation went something like this:

A Rev. Twitter buddy of mine was in trouble with member or members of her church because the coffee being served at lent groups had been switched from instant to ‘proper coffee’! Trivial, yes? We thought so, and had a brief titter – but then, someone else asked – why the concern over such trivial matters and why do they seem to blow out of all proportion so very often?

And why, while we are on the subject, is the coffee generally served up by churches so woefully awful? Lots more people seemed to join the throng, observing that not only was the coffee generally awful, but the tea and biccies were usually fairly low rent too, and while we’re at it – why do churches insist on sticking up badly designed posters all wonky on scruffy looking noticeboards, what’s with all those old piles of dusty parish mags at the back and why, in short was the church so generally determined that ‘that’ll do’ would do?

As the conversation continued it seemed the original problem arose because ‘proper’ coffee was all too expensive and that whilst ‘young folk’ could fritter their money on such frivolity as ‘posh coffee’ the church ought to be above such pointless frippery and stand up for… what exactly? Bland, second rate beverages?

So now we see – this isn’t about coffee at all! this is about piety! self denial! we are shonky and a bit amateurish because it is what God wants! Away with your warm hospitality, we don’t want to offer the best we can afford to our brothers and sisters, even less to occasional visitors – what God really wants is for us to offer a grudging mug of luke-warm sludge and a broken digestive to our guests – right?

Erm, well, not exactly. The Bible is fairly clear on the subject of hospitality – my current Bible study plan covers passage after passage in the OT commanding Israel to offer the best of their hospitality, to welcome all comers with the very best they have to offer. Jesus didn’t turn water into any old cheap plonk – He saved the best for last. The prodigal son does not return to a warmed over Pot Noodle.

The Bible exhorts us again and again to treat others with the generosity, love and welcome that we would wish to receive – why? Because when we honour each other we honour our Creator – because “when you do this to the least of these, you do it to me”.

So what are we saying when we offer less than the best of ourselves? Whose money, exactly, are we saving? And what message does our welcome give about the Gospel we proclaim? Are we guilty of perpetuating an image of the church as cheap, scruffy and deteriorating?

There is much more to be said following today’s discussion – about how this ‘second best is good enough’ attitude spills into our financial stewardship, about attitudes to change and attitudes to the young, about Fair Trade, about our image of ourselves and of God – but for now I would like to exhort each of us with the words of a fellow Twitter user @crimperman: “Lets give up bad coffee for Lent!

Let’s throw open our doors, welcoming all comers with warm and open arms, tidying up a bit and putting on a decent cuppa. Given the cost of Good Friday I’d say a couple of quid on a packet of Fair Trade Costa Rican was a small price to pay.”

Thanks Jo.

Wow. Tough stuff to hear, perhaps. But does Jo hit the nail on the head? Is this about us being a bit slack, or thinking decent refreshments are too much of an expense? Or is it something else? Perhaps we’ve just never really though about it before.

We’re so comfortable in our churches that maybe we fail to see what visitors see. Maybe we’re just so used to the lovely cups that Mavis donated in 1992, that we no longer notice the chips in them or that none of the saucers match. Not because we don’t care, but because it’s never crossed our mind to question it.

If first impressions do count when we’re trying to welcome new folk, and show off how generous and loving God is, perhaps what Jo writes is a timely reminder to have a bit of a Spring (OK Winter) clean and do something about the quality of our refreshments. What do you think?

You can read Jo’s other posts about stewardship here.

 

What’s He Doing From The Front?

Jan, who does the biscuits, and Mary who has a bit of a short temper, were setting out chairs in the hall for a Mother’s Union meeting. Jan paused and looked like she wanted to say something. She rarely ever spoke, but when she did it was usually something worth saying.

“Mary,” she started. “What’s a blessing?”

Mary loved being asked questions. It made her feel that the other person thought that she might have the answer. And Mary loved having the answer. She loved giving her opinion and correcting others about theirs. But when it came to faith, she was a bit shaky. Mary was a life-long card-carrying Christian. She attended every service, knew the service booklet word for word and really did love Jesus. But if there was one area she was uncharacteristically reluctant to be an authority on, it was her faith. And this made her feel quite flustered.

“Reverend John said he’d be popping by later Jan, why don’t you save that question for him?”

Mary carried on shuffling chairs around, but Jan seemed to have not heard her, and continued her line of enquiry.

“I’m on about the offering. When the vicar is handed the plate at the altar…who’s actually blessing the gifts? Is our contribution on the plate blessed by the vicar, or is it being blessed by God?”

Mary felt annoyed that she couldn’t think of anything at all to say to this. She was annoyed with herself, and also mildly annoyed with poor Jan who couldn’t have possibly known that Mary would have such an aversion for talking about faith.

“That’s a tricky one Jan it really is, but I see we’re still 12 chairs short and they won’t unstack themselves.” But Jan simply continued asking about blessings whilst unstacking chairs. At this point Natalie from the Youth Group arrived with two more ladies from the Mothers Union and Mary seized her opportunity.

 

“Ladies, Jan has a really interesting question for you. I’m going to put the kettle on.”

Jan, Natalie and the other ladies from Mother’s Union sat in the seats they’d just put out, and considered the question. Natalie put it to Jan that we can’t just assume God blesses what we give, or indeed blesses anything. We can only ask for His blessing. “So,” said Natalie “I think our offering blessed by the Vicar.”

“I don’t know,” said one of the ladies from the Mother’s Union (no-one knew their names and it was far too late in the game to ask) “I think we can assume some things are blessed, because Jesus said so.” Well played, thought Natalie, well played. “Jesus said so” is a great trump card.

The MU lady went on, “He said ‘It’s more blessed to give than to receive’ and He also said ‘Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.’ And then there’s the Beatitudes where Jesus lists all sorts of folks who are blessed, like the poor in spirit, the meek, mourners, the merciful and that. Jesus said it, so can’t we just assume it’s always true?”

Game, set and match to the lady from MU. Very well put. The others were impressed. Mary was hovering by the entrance with a tray of tea and wondered if she could divert the topic onto safer ground, like the recent scandal about the craft tables and all that glitter.

Before she could intervene, Natalie asked Jan, “What’s brought this up?”

Jan said, “Well last Sunday, I was a bit late and I forgot to pick up a hymn book on my way in. I just rushed to a free pew. The back 10 rows were all full, so I had to sit near the front, near that new couple. Now, I knew most of the hymns, mind you, but I’d never heard the offertory one. So when we got to that one, I mimed for a bit then just looked around.

“And that’s when I saw Rev John mouth something when he got the offertory plate. I thought to myself ‘I’ve never seen him do that before.’ I suppose I’m normally looking down at my hymn book. I wanted to ask him what he’d said but I thought it might be private. So when I got home I popped in on Mr Connor, that Catholic that lives near me, ‘cos he knows everything, and I had to return a Pyrex dish I’d borrowed, and anyway he told me that Rev John was probably blessing our contributions. That’s what got me wondering about blessings.”

At that moment Rev John walked in carrying huge number of shopping bags, an umbrella and a puppet of King Herod. He had his vestments draped over one shoulder and his car keys between his teeth. A standard assortment of accoutrements for Rev John. Putting them all down in turn he flopped onto one of the spare seats and said “Hullo ladies,” in his usual jolly way.

Mary seized her opportunity. “Rev John, we were just discussing what a blessing is,” this was a slight departure from the truth as Mary had yet to say a single thing about it, but never mind that, “and Jan here didn’t know what that private thing you say over the plate might be, but she was too afraid to ask.” Mary had a way of being divulging rather more than people would like, whilst expertly distancing herself from ambiguity or doubt.

Rev John felt wounded at the thought of anyone not wanting to ask him something. Poor Jan. She looked very embarrassed. He felt doubly wounded that anyone might think anything he did at the altar might be private. Didn’t people know he was blessing the gifts? It was a public prayer.

“I’m awfully sorry Jan. It’s a blessing I say. It goes something like, ‘Yours, Lord is the greatness the power, the glory etc. etc. and everything in heaven and on earth is yours.’ Then I lift up the plate and say ‘All things come from you, and of your own we give you.’”

By the looks on everyone’s faces, this was news to them too. How? Ah, the offertory hymn! They’re always looking down at their books. It dawned on him. No wonder Jan didn’t know. For a horrid moment Rev John wondered if his beloved congregation actually knew that God blessed their generosity at all. Did they make a connection between giving and faith? Had he ever made it clear? No, he probably hadn’t. But he had an idea. Leaping to his feet he took Jan’s hand in both of his and shook it and said, “Thank you! Jan thank you! It’s clear now. I know what I’ve got to do.”

And at that he dashed off leaving the group of women quite startled and confused.

Very Rev John.

 

 

Trouble Brewing: The Great Refreshment Debate

This article might be a little provocative, but then, if we only wrote/read about that with which we agree, would we continue to grow? I hope this will at least stimulate debate, even if it falls short of direct suggestions or wisdom!

…………………

In December’s article “Room at My table”, the theme was generosity through hospitality. For me, hospitality is an integral part of generosity, and if we can get hospitality right as a church, we’re on the right track. I often encourage people to think about what a really hospitable church would look and feel like.

Churches across the land are good at finishing a service by inviting people to stay back for a chat and a brew, i.e. offering hospitality. This is a story about that after-service gathering. It’s not really a story about any specific church but, in many ways, it is a story about all our churches. And it’s a story that asks a question: “What message are we sending?”

…………………

“And don’t forget, at the end of the service you’re all invited back to our hall for refreshments.”

The vicar was going through the notices before we sang the final hymn and he blessed us and sent us forth to go in peace to love and serve the Lord. Amen.

I always try to hang around for coffee after I preach on Sundays, as it’s a nice way to get to know people and hear what they really thought of the sermon. After a few custard creams people let their guard down and tell the visiting preacher exactly how the sermon could be improved.

As an outsider / visitor / novice church-goer myself, I still feel like the Spectator of Parish Life. Sometimes, I have an internal voice that sounds suspiciously like Sir David Attenborough observing the congregation in their natural setting. Strange but true. On this particular Sunday, Sir David’s charming voice was saying:

“The parishioners were in their natural habitat, gathered around tables in small groups. The mostly female group was drinking coffee and tea, while a few males stood in smaller groups talking. There were plates of digestives, pink wafers and the odd bourbon, the biscuits of choice for the Anglican. The Parishioners appeared relaxed and content in their environment.”

Having been delayed by signing the register, I’d avoided the queue for refreshments, which, it’s important to remember, I’d been invited to partake in.

A very cheerful gentleman put his hand on my shoulder and steered me straight up to the kitchen hatch- behind which all the caffeine magic happens- and insisted, “Someone get this lassy a cuppa!” while another parishioner said, in a spot of post-generosity-sermon-banter, “And you’ll not have to pay for it mind, that one’s on me. See, we’re generous here!”, and they kindly paid for my brew. This was handy, as I had no money on me, having given it all at the offertory.

I was shown to a free seat to enjoy my coffee, and was thoroughly looked after by the jolly people of St. Somewhere’s, who made me feel ever so welcome.

But here’s the rub. Since my appointment 10 months ago, I’ve been lucky enough to visit and preach at dozens of churches. This exposure has been a great learning experience, and has taught me, among other things, that we, the Church are brilliant at refreshments. And, on a seemingly completely separate topic, we’re often rubbish at dealing with the subject of money.

Seemingly separate. But actually linked. You see we get in a right stew over “After service refreshments”. And we’re in a blend when it comes to providing refreshments, charging for refreshments, generously contributing supplies for the refreshments, inviting people to join us for refreshments and putting a plate out for donations for refreshments.

The crux of it is, are we collecting money, or are we offering hospitality? Of course, many people would say we’re doing both – the money covers the cost of the hospitality.

But then, is it really hospitality if people have to pay for it? Many of us would say that no-one actually has to pay for their cup of coffee, but how would a visitor know this? …

In the end, I’m not sure if we really can say we are both offering hospitality and also collecting money.

But wait there! I hear you cry. What if we want to pay our way? Isn’t that being generous? You might disagree with me here, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s like paying for goods rendered, much like in Starbucks, only much, much cheaper.

But more importantly, shouldn’t we consider the people who weren’t expecting to pay, gave all they had during the offertory, or can’t afford to pay? Could we put aside our desire to “pay our way”, in order to be more inclusive?

“Bridging the Gap” Project Officer, Ray Leonard, says “Charging could exclude people who don’t have the money. They’re invisible because of the shame associated with not having enough money, so the problem is never known by the church.

“We’re called to be warm, welcoming and hospitable. Why would we introduce anything that might be a barrier for someone? A suggested donation would be better, but even that has its problems. Someone who doesn’t put money in might feel they’re being judged.”

So if the cost of refreshments isn’t covered by the “customer”…then, by whom?

What if the cost was met by common church funds? If after-service refreshments were first and foremost about generosity through hospitality, would it create the right atmosphere for strengthening bonds between the existing congregation, building friendships with newer members, and bringing into the fold the folks on the edges?

But wait there! I hear you cry again. Can our church funds stretch this far? What about our commitment to contributing our Parish Share to the common diocesan pot[1]? Isn’t the sale of coffee and biscuits an important revenue for our church? Don’t we need this income?

Yes… perhaps. But when it does come to fund raising, whilst every little helps, let’s bear in mind that it probably is just that: very little. If we charge 50p for a coffee, we move firmly into the realms of fundraising (or cost covering), and out of the land of hospitality. And yet we don’t make an awful lot of cash in the process, whilst potentially excluding visitors from partaking.

So, charging for hospitality, is it really worth it?

[1]                      If you don’t know what Parish Share is or what it pays for click here

What has the diocese ever done for us?

It was Wednesday evening and the PCC were gathered in the hall with copies of the agenda on their knees.

Outside it was raining but nothing could spoil the mood inside. They were having a lively and uplifting discussion about how they could build on their mission events after the Talking Jesus weekend. This was for their recently revamped parish magazine and website. The committee felt it was about time they started sharing just what good stuff the church was up to.

Mary had been quietly tutting to herself until she could take it no more. She burst out, “You lot are just blowing your own trumpets with all this ‘we’ve done this, we’ve done that’. It’s not right. It’s not British.”

“I don’t think it’s blowing our own trumpets Mary dear.” Said her husband David, tentatively. Mary had a temper and David was already in the doghouse after the sherry-cream-carpet incident last night.

Richard said wisely, “I think it actually is blowing our own trumpets, and I think that’s a good thing,” which made everyone turn in their seats. Something else was coming. He never left it at one comment.

“I think we should blow our own trumpets. Trumpets are used to get people’s attention. And the people whose attention we need to get are those out there”, he pointed at the window. It was still drizzling. It was England.

“They need to know what we’re about. That there’s help here. Maybe the ones in need of help can also be the ones to offer help, like Jan who does the biscuits.” Everyone nodded approvingly. Richard continued, “People should know what this church does. Like our‘crafternoon’. It’s doing really well! And I’ll be honest Mary, I will be, I had no idea about the music ministry that Barry set up. We should blow our own trumpets. This place is a bastion of the community.”

They’d already listed the coffee morning, Messy Church, the 24 baptisms they’d already conducted this year, all the sick people visited, youth outreach, Rev John’s ‘flower and glory’ flora and Bible classes, and countless community projects.

“It’s a lot of stuff isn’t it?” Rev John flicked through his notes. “I think it’s important that people see what their contributions are going towards, don’t you?”

“Not money again.” Groaned Tim. Tim had a pathological hatred of talking about money even on a good day, but tonight was worse. When parking outside the hall he’d mounted a bollard and couldn’t even bring himself to check the damage. A significant bill no doubt, not to mention the embarrassment, though he was fairly sure no-one had seen or heard. Still, money was the last thing he wanted to be reminded about. He was feeling entirely wretched with hints of irritableness.

“Well Parish Share is next on the agenda” said Rev John a bit defensively, “and I’m just saying, it’s great seeing what our contributions make possible.”

“But they don’t! All our money goes to the diocese!”

“We are the diocese,” corrected Mary, much to the delight of Richard.

Tim ignored her as she was spoiling his rant, and he felt like he really needed to rant. He’d reflect later that he was a bit rude, but that was for future Tim to worry about. Present day Tim was mid-flow. “We never see a penny of it. Parish Share just goes to the big black hole that’s the diocese. What have the diocese ever done for us?”

There was a murmur of agreement and nodding of heads. All eyes were now on Rev John, waiting for his answer. He couldn’t see this, as his head was in his hands. He was sorrowfully thinking that the meeting had been going so well until now.

His thoughts were interrupted by Richard asking him to explain to Tim what ‘the diocese’ (he did the inverted commas with his fingers which was quite annoying) actually did to support them.

Didn’t ANYONE know what parish share was for? Rev John wanted to shout but instead he composed himself and was about to answer when Anna piped up, “Well, there’s Reverend John. Parish share pays his stipend.” Another murmur of agreement. Some nods.

Mary joined in, “There’s the legal adviser. When we had all that bother with the architects, we rang the diocesan office and were given free, expert legal advice.” Heads nodded.

David who was desperate to impress his frightening wife Mary, added, “Yes, and remember when Andy the Youth Adviser came to tell us how to reach out to more young people? He ran Pulse last year, that big Youth night. It’s on again in March and they’ve got a comedian and band. And he put together Think About It, the Youth Conference. He’s organising Prayer Spaces in Schools training with Sharon the Diocesan Children’s Adviser, he’s running the Confirmation Overnighter, and a 6 week training course for youth workers.”

Rev John looked through his fingers at the PCC and a flicker of hope ignited. They were on a roll.

It was time for Richard to wade in.

“And when Amy was planning the summer camp she got an awful lot of support from Sharon, the Children’s Worker. And did you know…” he rather smugly addressed the room, “that she runs free Messy Church training days, Puppet Training Days, and Open the Book Training days? And there’s the 6 week Bishop’s Certificate in Children’s Ministry, there’s the Prayer project with training, resources and support, and there’s the Godly Play Network. And, she set up the Children’s Council so that school-aged Christians can have their voices heard…”

“…and there’s the admin staff, the clergy housing team, the faculties adviser, the legal adviser, the secretary. They’re all there to help us. Part of the money we contribute keeps them in post. And there’s the training up of new clergy. That’s where your parish share goes Tim. When Rev John and vicars like him retire, we need someone to replace them. Future clergy need training.”

Through a mouthful of biscuits, Barry blurted, “Free training and resources for the Start! mission course we’re running after the Talking Jesus mission.” He used his other custard cream to point as he sprayed biscuit, for extra effect.

Rev John was relieved. He breathed deeply.

Tim knew he was being unreasonable but it was far too late for reason. Still fuming about his careless parking, he couldn’t also cope with being contradicted over his opinions of the diocese, even in light of all this evidence. He had to go for it…

“Yes but apart from clergy stipends, pensions and housing, children and youth advisers, admin staff, training, legal advice, faculties, finance, mission and evangelism training courses and free resources, and the training up of new Readers and clergy… what has the diocese ever done for us?”

Suddenly the tension burst and everyone laughed. Everyone except Natalie who’d nipped out to the kitchen to prepare the coffees, and shouted around the door as a final volley “Media! Prayer support! Vocation support!”

Hurrah! The PCC was a buzz of excitement. Tim stroked his chin thinking it over, still looking unconvinced. Kevin, a pastry chef with bright red curly hair, turned to Rev John. He felt utterly bewildered tonight and wondered if anyone else in the room felt lost like him. He put up his hand.

“Yes Kevin, please, you don’t need to raise a hand.” Said Rev John. “What is it?”

“I actually didn’t know any of that John. I mean, I didn’t have a problem with our financial contributions going to the common fund, you know, Parish Share, and I hardly thought the diocesan office blew it all on week long retreats in Monaco, but I honestly didn’t know our parish share paid for all that stuff for us.”

Rev John stared. Did some people really not know this?

Richard made a suggestion, “Since we started off talking about our magazine and website, mightn’t it be a good idea to include something about what Parish Share goes towards, so people know? I imagine Kevin isn’t the only one.” He was right. It should go in the magazine. Richard had hit the spot, again. He was such a know-it all.

BEFORE YOU GO! You are very welcome (and indeed encouraged!) to use these blogs in parish magazines or as content for Home Groups etc. 
Please cite the website so others can find their way here. 

I’m the Diocese!

“Have you heard?” whispered Sarah over her shoulder to David and Mary.

“Heard what?” Mary whispered back, leaning forward. The church was filling up pew by pew and people were opening up their hymn books to see if they’d be singing any favourites. It was Sunday and the morning service was about to start.

“We’re being visited by The Diocese today!” Sarah said screwing up her face, as if she’d said they were being visited the headmaster, or a mob of rioters, or a plague.

“The Diocese!?” asked David, eyes darting around the church.  “Here? Today? Us? The Diocese!?”

Richard had overheard, because contrary to popular belief, his hearing was pitch perfect. He slid down the pew and leaned in. “Oh yes,” he said “the Diocese are here alright.” He gave a knowing nod.

“They’re already here?” demanded Mary, looking toward the door for signs of disruption. “Where?”

“Right here,” Richard whispered. He leaned closer. “The Diocese is sitting on this pew.”

Sarah, David, Mary and Anna and Claire who had also overheard, gasped and looked at one another in horror. They stared up and down the pew, looking into the faces of their fellow parishioners with questioning eyes, and shaking heads. Richard saw their confused looks and said, “Thing is… I’m the Diocese.”

“No! Oh Richard, we didn’t know! When did that happen?” At first they seemed sorry for him then they turned suspicious and whispered, “How long have you been the Diocese for?”

“Well…” said Richard, “let me see…all my life I suppose, or at least as long as I’ve been worshipping here, which is pretty much the same thing.”

They couldn’t believe their ears. How could Richard have been secretly The Diocese all these years whilst acting normally in church? He was no better than a spy. All these years! They’d played Bridge together, they’d shared a hedge strimmer, they’d been on the PCC together. What a thing to do!

“It’s true. I am the Diocese. And… so is David.” He nodded in David’s direction. David clamped his hands over his own mouth in shock. His wife glared at him. Sarah’s head turned from Richard to David and back again like she was watching tennis. Claire was pale. Before David could object, Richard carried on, “So is Ian the Reader, and Rev John, and Eunice and Amy in the choir…in fact the whole choir. And the back row you’re wondering? They’re all The Diocese too. And the Youth Group? Yup, they’re all the Diocese.” Mary forgot herself and said loudly, “No! It cannot be true!” People turned in their pews to stare.

“Mary,” Richard soothed as he laid his hand gently over hers, “Mary, you are The Diocese too.”

It was too much to handle. How could Mary be The Diocese? How could any of them? How could she not have realised? Before she could process this news the congregation got to their feet as the Vicar and choir processed in.

Hymns were sung, prayers were said, a sermon was delivered. There wasn’t time to talk about any of this during The Peace, so after the service they all gathered around Richard to ask just what he had meant. Slowly and calmly Richard explained that the Diocese was in fact made up of all the churches, including this one, and of all the people in the churches. It included all the clergy, all the Wardens and choirs and children and teenagers and even all the people that the church regularly prayed for who could no longer make it in on a Sunday due to ill health. They were the Diocese too. The Diocese wasn’t a separate entity. It was like one body and the churches were the limbs and the people were the fingers, toes, eyes, hair and eyelashes. The organists were…the organs. The Treasurers were the Toes. The Curates were the calves. Together all these bits made up the Diocese. Richard explained that when a portion of the money parishioners donate to their church goes to pay for Mission and Ministry Support at the Diocese, that support is actually for them, because, you’ve got it, they are the Diocese.

“How’s that different from the Diocesan Office?” asked Anna. “Well now, that’s a physical building, and inside it are people who work to serve the Diocese, that’s us. Try not to mix them up.” He said, a bit patronisingly. Anna told Richard that he was terribly clever and gave his arm a squeeze.

All of this information made Sarah and David and Mary and their friends feel surprised at first for having not thought of this themselves, then really happy because it meant if they were indeed the Diocese, then they could make suggestions and take part in Diocesan activities and events and feel part of a great big team. It meant they had a lot more in common with St Drogo’s down the road than they once thought, as they were the Diocese too. Who’d have imagined? Before they could dwell on this revelation further, Rev John came over with the visitor from the Diocesan Office and a tray bake and they all lived happily ever after. The end.

read more about Mary, David and Rev John here

Pictures by:http://cliparts.co/shocked-cartoon-face

BEFORE YOU GO! You are very welcome (and indeed encouraged!) to use these blogs in parish magazines or as content for Home Groups etc. 
Please cite the website so others can find their way here.