The Healing on the Streets equipment is kept in a metal supermarket storage crate, which was bought for the job. It’s brought round, unpacked, then put away again until the week after. It’s got heavy duty castors on it, which can each turn through 360°, but they seem to work in concert to ensure that it only goes forward when a specific side is at the front. Funny that.
You may have noticed that a big vault-type box now lives in the meeting room, or occasionally in the reception area, with its mysterious contents. It has castors on it too. I’m sure they can turn 360° but just basically seem sluggish to do anything, and certainly don’t seem to do anything coordinated.
The skateboard – now with that you are talking momentum! It has four castors which delight to turn at the slightest insistence, and in general, in my limited experience, seem to enable it to get to where it is going, and actively prevent it deviating off the path. In that respect, it is not so easy to steer. If you haven’t the faintest idea what I mean by the skateboard (and like the other items, it is a piece of church furniture) then you will simply have to ask one of the wardens.
We are a church with wheels. I’m not sure where they are, how they got there, or how to categorise them. But they mean we can be moved, and change can be played with, tried out, and incorporated. But not cemented in. It’s got to be something that can journey. That’s quite an achievement for an Anglican church. I value it, but take no credit for it – but thank you to those of you who oil these wheels.
People asked Jesus where he was living, or where he was saying, implying they wanted to go to his dwelling place. They’d decided they were ‘in.’ Jesus’ reply was a bit oblique, saying that unlike creatures which have nest and holes, he doesn’t. In other words, travelling is where he is at home, where he actually dwells.
So, people of the way, I declare that our church without walls has wheels.