I have become an infrequent poster. Most of my writing in this past year has been for studying, and even tonight (the early hours of the morning) my focus is on the final project being completed. The deadline is 25th March, and at the moment I am in the last section of chapter 3 with one more chapter to go. My hope is to complete this chapter by tomorrow evening and submit it for Monday morning to my first reader.

On Sunday, after worship (not sure where I am going yet) I will begin chapter 4 and think about the journey the work has taken me on and what I hope we (the congregation and me) will take from it. I hope they will feel that it has been worth my while and their toleration of my times of study. I hope that it is a document that allows them to develop future mission that best reflects their expression of Christ’s purpose for them.

Today I have been reviewing the last pieces of the conference held in January. I have purposefully left this until the end as during the conference there were words spoken that I knew if I had to read them and process them I would be angry and hurt. Tonight as I’ve written them into my notebook ready to type them into an Appendix tomorrow and to comment (in some relevant way) within the chapter. Tonight I am still hurt, but after thinking about if there was a response that could be made, or if it was worth returning to, I’ve decided to ignore it. I’m not sure that given current public furore over royal behaviour that the adage “never complain, never explain” is being seen as a good option. But I think there is an element of that adage that is useful.

The upsetting comment?

Now should I share? How safe a space is this?

The comment will seem innocuous.

We are not welcoming. Certain people do not smile and do not even say good morning even when specifically spoken to.

Tonight I can laugh at most of this. Having reviewed data of over 200 questionnaires returned from November to December, the opening comment is wrong. The data returned could not shout louder that the congregation is welcoming and that those who offer the welcome – elders, stewards, and even me – are often thanked for the way in which welcome is offered and the opportunity to belong is gifted.

The thing is I know this is about me on a Sunday morning.

I struggle to smile before worship on a Sunday morning. The nerves overtake and I become goal focussed, so I don’t hear people or even see them. Those who live with me and travel with me in the car have learnt to tread lightly and to offer gentle conversation. If I do speak, I bite. The retreating into the space of preparation is the way I have managed coping with nerves since training. In previous churches, where I have had a whole vestry to myself session clerks have appeared to gently coax me out through the door, and one used to describe two different versions of me. He suggested that before worship on the corridor side of the church door, there was a quiet, uncertain, almost unwilling character that didn’t look like they would make it through the door. Once through the door, a different character appeared who clearly knew what they were doing and exuded at least professionalism, if not absolute confidence.

Perhaps it is not meant, but there is unkindness in the comment because it suggests that the worship leader should be present to everyone at all times, and does not recognise that the worship leader may be waiting for God’s presence to be revealed.

Time off for study leave has got me out of the way of managing the nerves and the expectation of worship. After six weeks away, on the two Sundays I was back I returned to a practice that I’ve not had to use for at least five years of an afternoon nap. No-one seems to know that leading worship is hard work! I’ve another week off this week, but will be racing back for Palm Sunday – hopefully with a fully completed project, proofed and appropriately annotated, either submitted or to be submitted on the Monday morning.