Half way to 92

46 and I still don’t have a proper job!  Not sure I’ll ever grow up.

Here is a poem to mark today’s birthday.


God’s work of art.

That’s me?

Then beauty must lie

In the eye of the



I feel more like

One of those statues

Michelangelo left

Half emerging

From the marble block;

Full of potential,

On the verge of life,

But prisoned still

By circumstance and



Yet part of me is free –

And you are still creating,

Bringing to life

The promise that is there


Sometimes by

Hammer blows

Which jar my being,

Sometimes by

Tender strokes half felt

Which waken me to



Go on, Lord.

Love me into wholeness.

Set me free

To share with you

In your creative joy;

To laugh with you

At your delight

In me,

Your work of art.


                (Ann Lewin 1987 Unfinished sentences)


I am full of admiration for wordsmiths like Ann who in a few carefully chosen and artfully woven words express my deepest longings.  I feel like her statue half emerging from the marble, with chips knocked off me, full of potential but still partly constrained by circumstances.  I wonder sometimes whether we do truly ‘grow up’.

 It has taken 25 years since the first inklings that God might be calling me to ministry to accept that he could possibly have chosen the right person. I felt like a person on the TV programme ‘Faking it’.  I had to learn all the right answers about God or sooner or later someone would find out I was a fraud.  Now I realise that there is no blue-print to conform to or ‘right answers’.  Neither is there a ready-made Sarah shaped niche for me to slot into. Instead of being scary that really is quite liberating.  I understand now what Francis Dewar was on about when he explained that in God’s personal call to us we are not handed a life plan on a plate.  In a karaoke culture, most people feel they have to dance to someone else’s tune but God invites us to sing our own tune to our own words.  There is a Hasidic tale about the universal tendency to want to be someone else and the ultimate importance of becoming oneself; Rabbi Zusya said, ‘In the coming world, they will not ask me; ‘Why were you not Moses?  They will ask ‘Why were you not Zusya? 

Actually, I quite like being me.

This next year is likely to be a bit tricky with changes on the work front, that I will have little control over. The only way of coping will be to laugh with God at his rather wonky work of art.

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