I can and I will

**GBBO Spoiler alert**

I’ll admit it now – I cried at the end of the Bake Off final this year.

But then so did Mary Berry, so I figure I’m in pretty good company.

I didn’t cry because of my sadness that it’s all over for another year, nor because of any terrible injustice over the result – because I thought that Paul and Mary got it spot on.

It was what Nadia said at the end that got me, as she stood holding her winner’s trophy.

“I am never going to put boundaries on myself ever again. I’m never going to say I can’t do it. I’m never going to say maybe. I’m never going to say I don’t think I can. I can and I will.”

What made her triumph all the more beautiful was the obvious joy and pride of her family who were there to support her. They had clearly been cheering her every step of the way, encouraging her when she was down, believing in her when she struggled to believe in herself and spurring her forward right to the end.

There’s extraordinary power in encouragement.

I am scared of heights, and have been ever since I was a little girl.

But I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Sky Tower in Auckland and have crossed the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge on the north Antrim coast of Northern Ireland.

How has this been possible? In every case my knees were like jelly and I had that fearful quiver in my voice when I tried to speak. But on each occasion I had a friend with me to hold my hand (literally), tell me I could, or simply not take no for an answer.

On one occasion I decided to be brave and head to the top of the Scott Monument in Edinburgh – on my own. I made it up to the main part of the monument where you can walk around the edge and get such a wonderful view of the city. Scott monumentHowever there’s another bit you can ascend, in the spire-like part of the structure. I made it about three steps up when my fear stopped me and turned me around. I decided I had been brave enough for one day.

The Scott Monument is around a quarter of the height of the Eiffel Tower and about a third of the Sky Tower (very shonky maths – please don’t look it up), so why could I not get to the top?

Because I was alone.

No encouragement, no hand-holding.

No one pushing me on, telling me I could.

And it made all the difference.

Encouragement is a powerful gift.

The Acts of the Apostles and letters of the New Testament are peppered throughout with calls for us to bring encouragement to one another. Why is it so important?

Because without it we falter.

We look around at what we’re trying to achieve and wonder who the heck we think we are. We see the heights we’re trying to scale, the distance we’re reaching for, the giants we’re facing and we feel the fear.

Or perhaps we look back at the road we’ve been walking and feel disappointed with how slow the journey has been. We are tempted to give up, to just sit down where we are and call it good enough.

At each of these places encouragement makes all the difference.

It lifts us back on our feet again and sets us on our way or gives us the foot up that we need to reach the heights we’re stretching for. Encouragement brings boldness and bravery and drowns out the voice of fear. When we’ve compared ourselves to other brighter, shinier people and told ourselves that there’s no point trying, encouragement reminds us that our contribution is unique and the world needs to hear it.

Encouragement lifts our heads when they are down and strengthens our resolve when it has weakened.

It enables us to say, “I can and I will.”

Who can you encourage today?

Who needs you to be their cheerleader?

And who would like to come and hold my hand, to the very top of the Scott Monument?

All the vain things

I’ll admit it – I am easily charmed.

Fluffy bunnies, smooth advertising slogans, a well-made slice of cake, a fabulous shade of lipstick – it really doesn’t take much to win me over. If it is shiny and wonderful then I would like a piece of it.

Neither am I one for self-discipline and so I will readily capitulate to a variety of these temptations on an almost daily basis.

I remember when fragranced ironing water first came on the market. I’m sure there’s a proper name for it, but it’s basically nice smelling water to put in your steam iron instead of the regular stuff from the tap. Watching the tv advert I thought it was utterly absurd. The clothes were already clean from the washing machine, why on earth did they need extra smelly water?!

Fast forward a few days and I found myself wandering past the ‘new product special offer’ section in the supermarket and began to have a different conversation with myself.

You know sometimes the clothes may be clean, but there is still that slightly stale smell when you iron them. Perhaps you should just try it. It might be lovely. Go on, pop the bottle in the trolley. There, that was easy.

I travelled another few aisles before having another, more stern conversation with myself and returned the ironing water back to the shelf.

Please hear me – if you are a person with ironing water in your cupboard, there is no judgement here. This was one tiny luxury that I denied myself on one miraculous day. My home is filled with many other charming and unnecessary things that I have scooped up and brought home, and if you ever came and inspected my belongings (please promise me you won’t ever do that) you would be horrified by the amount of stuff that I couldn’t possibly resist.

It’s because of these quirks (surely not flaws) in my character that I’ve always found it a challenge to sing the line in the famous hymn, “All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.”

Ouch.

shoppingI think we’ve established that there are many vain things in my life and I’ll confess right now that they charm me a great deal. And so I would sing that line with a slight grimace and promise the Lord that I would, yes I definitely would (or at least I’d try to) purge myself of these charms and live a more monastic and holy life.

Until recently I had never made a connection between these lines and the first two lines of this same verse.

Forbid it Lord, that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ my God.

All the vain things that charm me most

I sacrifice them to his blood.

Yes indeed forbid it Lord that I should boast, for I am British and that is most unbecoming. What’s more, as a member of a Celtic nation, boasting may see me excommunicated from my people. So Lord, I can sing this line quite easily, because boasting is vulgar and I don’t do it, really.

And then, just recently, the Lord whispered something to me in response.

What about the vain things?

Yes I know, the vain things! I’m sacrificing them.

Ok I’m not. But I’m trying.

Sometimes.

They are how you boast.

Not with words, but with things.

Everything you take more pride in, show more joy towards than me. Every time you are more concerned with how you look, or what they’ll think than you are with what I’m saying to you. When you take more care over everything external than you do with the internal, then you are boasting in something other than me.

Ah. I see it now.

I see the time and effort I put into things that have no eternal consequence. The care and attention I give to parts of my life that do not truly matter.

Those things are not necessarily wrong in and of themselves, and many of them bring me delight and pleasure. But when they take up too much space in my life and my thoughts then something is out of balance.

And so from now on I will sing this verse recognising that I boast every day in things other than Jesus and that he asks me to sacrifice my vain and shiny trinkets so that his radiance might be seen more clearly, by me and through me.

Forbid it Lord, that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ my God.

All the vain things that charm me most

I sacrifice them to his blood.