Everything has changed. A new church year has begun, and so the colours change too; now we are in purple, and perhaps new for us at St John’s and St Luke’s, purple Advent candles (and pink – but you’ll have to wait to find out more about that!)

Purple is, you might say, a serious colour, a Royal colour and suddenly we are in a time of waiting, of getting ready for the coming of a King.

The tone of our readings has suddenly changed too – now we are looking forward into a new world, a new beginning, a new birth. Like Mary, we are expecting—expectant, you might say – what will happen next?

The wonderful passages from Isaiah that resonate for us in Advent are looking ahead in expectation too, to a time when the house of God, like a city on a mountain, seen from miles around, is the place that all the nations shall stream to, and the people shall say to one another ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, that he may teach us his ways.’

A time when, unbelievably it seems then, and now, that nations shall beat their swords into ploughshares, their spears into pruning hooks, and all that has made for war shall now be used for planting and reaping a harvest of peace and plenty. As so often, the promises of God speak straight into all that is most precious for us – things we can know and touch – mountains and temples, family and food, leading and light.

Its there too in that glorious passage from Romans that is quintessentially Advent – ‘Now is the time for you to wake from sleep – the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light. In Advent there is both promise and judgement. For we continually bring destruction on ourselves when we turn away from the ways of God – from light back to darkness.

This truth is there behind the tragedies which litter our history – wars and atrocities, untold human suffering, from which we finally seem to learn the brutal lesson and begin to work for peace, before we forget, and once again take up weapons of destruction and ways of selfishness and greed. Instead says Paul in Romans ‘Put on the Lord Jesus Christ’ – stop quarrelling, stop using and abusing each other and creation for your own ends – wake up! The time is now!

For we are never passive recipients of judgement or blessing – we are all part of the story – lay aside the works of darkness, put on the amour of light, put on Christ and become part of the action! One way we put on Christ and join in is when we listen for God’s call on our lives. And in Advent, we take time to wait, to look for God and to listen.

But as we wait for Christ to return it can seem like we are waiting for ever – ‘Wait for the Lord’, as we sing in the Taizé chant, ‘whose day is nigh’ – and yet two thousand years and more and still we are waiting! But as Jesus explains in today’s Gospel – ‘about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.’

What we do seem to know is that it will be unexpected! Well that’s really helpful! Thanks God! But then that’s how God is – a God of surprises, of the unexpected, always doing a new thing…

In these weeks of Advent, four of our clergy – myself, Bill, Becka and Helen, are sharing something of the story of our call into ministry, which has often been unexpected or surprising. We hope that this will encourage you to share your own story of faith with one another. For as we do this, we start to hear similarities, that encourage us and help us recognise God at work among us.

And because we need each other’s help to hear God and to tell our stories, I’m going to do something unexpected this morning – I’m going to share something of my story by inviting Malcolm (at St Luke’s) and Alun (at St John’s) to ask me some questions.

So, Michelle, tell us how God spoke to you about becoming a priest?

Well, looking back, God had spoken about this to me in all kinds of ways over many years. As a small child, always being out and about in the countryside, finding God and myself in creation, then later as a chorister in the wonder of church music and beauty of worship, and then through love and family life, my parents were church goers and then getting married to Chris and becoming a Vicar’s wife, and also, and maybe especially in being a mum. 

But the time I really stopped and listened and took it seriously was one day in May 2006 – I was in Italy at the time, in the city of Bari, right down on the heel of Italy in the southern region of Puglia. Bari was a gateway for trade between east and west and its where the bones of St Nicholas are buried, Chris and I were there for the Festival of St Nicholas. I can tell you more about that another time!

But here, in a little back street, I met with Jesus, not for the first time of course, but this time there was no mistaking his very clear call to me that was utterly compelling and overwhelming. I met him in the form of a wall painting near a little church  – and his eyes held me fast and I could not look away.

Next to him was painted the woman at the well, and as I continued to look at Jesus and he looked at me, I found the living water of the well was rising up in me, and I was weeping, not with sorrow or distress, but with a deep joy, and an understanding that here my longing and confusion of recent months had found an answer, my thirst was being quenched.

Later, I met him again, in a figure and words set upon a wall near the Bishop’s Palace – a Lamb of God and the words – feed my sheep – I knew that this meant that I was to become a priest – to feed the people of God in the Eucharist.

How did you know this was God speaking to you?

I’m not one of those people who hear God speaking to me clearly and directly – for me it has always been a layering up of co-incidences, of hearing other people say the same thing to me repeatedly, of things resonating very personally, more about gradual revealing than any blinding flashes and certainty.

But the whole extraordinary experience of that day was like being led by the hand and by the heart and soul all at the same time. I was shown things in a way that was intensely personal – everything somehow relevant to things I held dear and with particular passages of scripture that have always spoken to me profoundly. And my reaction too – I don’t cry easily – but I have learned to recognise that when God comes close to me it often brings this same welling up of tears from a very deep place – like that living water at the well.

What happened next?

Well, after this experience, I stopped running away from God’s call.  I came to see that I’d always known it since I was a little girl, but that I was afraid. I didn’t feel that I was good enough, and then there was always something else to do, to be busy with, but that day in Italy, I knew deep down without a shadow of a doubt what this meant. Now was my time to awake out of sleep and to put on the armour of light!

And I came to see that it wasn’t about me doing this on my own – as it says in the words of the ordinal, when you are ordained – You cannot bear the weight of this calling in your own strength, but only by the grace and power of God.

You’ve been asking me questions, but in this journey of Advent, we are all being asked questions – so I now have a question for you; what is God calling you to as we begin this new church year together?

My advice would be – look for the unexpected! And listen for the way in which God is speaking to you very personally. Don’t worry what God might be asking others to do, although they may be help you hear what God is saying to you! And above all, don’t be afraid, you are not doing this on your own, but by the grace and power of God.

Thanks be to God!

Service: Reverend Michelle Dalliston. 27th November 2022.

(St John The Baptist Church Peterborough UK)

Referenced Scripture: Isaiah 2: 1-5, Psalm 122, Romans 13: 11-end, Matthew 24: 36-44