Hill climbing has been a daily occurrence as I attended as a commissioner at this year's Church of Scotland General Assembly. Once upon a time, the climb to New College was a regular feature of life for on leaving school I went to work in a city centre bank and walking home would enjoy either the Playfair Steps or the Mound. Then whilst at New College studying for the variety of qualifications that would keep me there for 6 years, so that I might fulfil the Church of Scotland's education criteria, trips to Princes Street always involved a return trip back to the top of the hill.
This week has had me realise just how fit I must have been in those days. I still maintain that the best way to get to New College from Princes Street is to take the Playfair steps at full speed. Thus the peching and pain is overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure in having got to the top. However walking with others meant I would have to take it at their speed. The walk round the Mound involved a breathless trot beside a 6 foot man. While I had to take the pain of a slow ascent of the Playfair Steps with a woman of a similar size. The slow pace had the peching start before we got past the second set of steps, and for a while I thought I might not manage all four.
For those who come from the railway station or anywhere on the north side of Princes Street there is a very real sense of climbing to the top of a hill to experience the presence of God in the midst of a community of His people.
Yet the past week has for me been a metaphorical climb as well. Today I'm still peching, and in the mist that clouds my thoughts I'm not sure if I've made it to the top or still have a way to climb. I feel like I am really struggling with the climb, and trying to decide which path to take next.
There were glorious moments at the General Assembly. It was good to clearly state that as a church we continue to have a passion for the mission of Jesus Christ, and that we believe that we should continue to find ways to ensure that every part of Scotland is touched by the passion of that mission. Emotionally charged moments as the forces chaplains bore witness to those they care for in the troops serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in the youth delegate who spoke courageously of her experience of anorexia. Even just the sheer sense of community as commissioners sought God's spirit in their decisions.
Yet while it was not a big part of the General Assembly the notion that leafy, suburb parishes being easy to minister to and that those serving them are failing to hear God's call was banded about quite vocally, and it has stuck in my head and I find myself sitting on the hillside not sure where to go, head in hands and almost weeping.
Those of you who have worked out where I am will probably recognise that suburbs don't come much leafier than mine. Having a hill and two golf courses really emphasies the leafiness, and heading home one evening I was struck by just how leafy it looked at this time of year. For just over a year I have been feeling unsettled, as I've always understood that ministry has a cycle and for me that cycle was drawing to a rounded position and so was it time to move on or was there a sense that there was a place for me in the next cycle of where this congregation was going. At the start of this year, as we started as a congregation to think about our next period of planning that unease began to settle.
I really struggle with the notion that people think that serving in the suburbs is easy, and that those of us who do have no sense of call and are busy enjoying the theatre, cinema and libraries with all the spare time we have.
Now in my second charge I have experience of two different places to minister to, both of which have had very different challenges and wonderful rewards in the sharing of faith.
My first charge was a former mining town, not the most attractive of places and rundown both in physical presence and in people's perception. Young people drank in the church grounds throughout the year. The manse was a stopping place for a bowl of soup for those in need. For a girl with a sheltered up-bringing, I sometimes felt I'd been thrown in at the deep end, and was swimming as best I could as I learnt to deal with situations I had ne experience of. But for me it still remains a halcyon moment of ministry. No matter the dwindling attenence on Sundays, there was still a sense that the church was part of the community. No matter where I went people recognised me as the local minister, and the minister still had a clear role as representative of the Christian faith in many spheres of public life as well as the role of leadership in the congregation.
The congregation itself also had a sense of purpose, as they used their differing gifts to respond to God in their lives. They were practical people, who found ways to give in more than financial ways. One of the best moments there has to have been in their recognition that they needed to open their halls for community use, and that having done so they would need to meet the needs for those now using the hall and add a disabled loo. They did as presbytery required and sought three quotes - two from outside builders and one from a groups within the congregation - and then proceeded to build the facility for themselves using the works manager, plumber, electrician and extra hands all found within the congregation.
In contrast, I have not found ministry in this setting easier, despite this being the kind of setting that I grew up in. In part that has always been my own unease at coming here. For a good number of the early years I felt that I had sold out in leaving behind a parish that "really needed" a minister to serve one that could "afford" to have a minister. I share my community with a number of other ministers and beyond our congregations I suspect that there are very few people in our parishes who would recognise any of us individually as local ministers. There are not the same kind of community organisations or events into which an automatic invite is extended, and so time is spent finding ways in which to make the Chrisian faith and our activity as a congregation relevant into the situation in which we are placed. Our presence doesn't always automatically touch others with Christ's presence, instead in the plans we make as a congregation we are engaging with how we do touch the lives of those who keep their pains and distresses hidden.
There is also not the same congregational commitment to practical service in Christ's name. This is the culture where we have money to pay people to do things, and that extends to church cleaning and repairs - and even to having a minister to act as the professional Christian for them. They "pay for a minister" and that minister is at their bidding to do as they expect and not necessarily as God calls. (In saying that I acknowledge that that would be a minority view, but as always within our church the minority view is often particularly vocal).
But in amongst the struggles, there have been good things here as well. A Stewardship Campaign brought a sense of community and sharing of gifts. There are a good number of families involved, and children usually appear for most things.
On the hillside sitting my thoughts are that there is no such thing as an "easy" place to minister, instead each type of congregation and community brings its own set of challenges and an equally wonderful set of rewards that speak of God revealing his presence in human existence. The mistake we make in our humanity is viewing the other kinds of ministry as lesser, more important, not spiritual. I recognise that there is a real challenge for us as a church to find ways to witness to Christ across Scotland, and population shifts to the central belt that does create difficulties for smaller communities in more remote areas. However that witness is not going to be increased by diminishing the call and ministry of each other by believing that we can only really represent Christ in particular situations. Instead all we do is further enhance the division and disquiet that exist within our reforming tradition.
On Monday morning I will need to get up from my seat on this hill and head either to the top and hope for a better view, or look for a new path. Disquieting feelings are important for they allow for the testing of God's spirit, but they don't make for a comfortable journey.
