My Year of No Deadlines

Perhaps we must stand fast

Happy June! Grab a hot drink and settle in for some musings on:

  • fidelity in media, ft. Broadchurch and Tim Minchin
  • what I have in common with Thomas Clarkson
  • a quote about apocalypse
  • the problem with dwelling in a land which needs heroes (ft. Thomas Moore)
  • a picture of my latest hobby
  • the love letter in 2 Corinthians
  • an update of what I’ve been reading/watching!

The increasing popularity of fidelity

So… my sister and I finished Broadchurch Season 3 the other day, which is essentially a respectful exploration into the ways an act of rape can ruin lives and tear apart community. It’s a story of hope and trust, of working through trauma and setting out on the long road to recovery.

It’s also a rather damning treatise on porn and infidelity and casual sex. Again and again,  viewers are confronted with the reality that consent isn’t everything. It’s a necessary beginning, but just because both parties agree, doesn’t mean the action won’t have huge social, emotional and spiritual ramifications.

As David Tennant’s character tells a man who has just admitted to infidelity (“you’d have done the same, if you’d had the chance”):

“I don’t subscribe to your version of the world, but I worry about sending my daughter out into it.”

This theme pops up again in Tim Minchin’s new release “I’ll take lonely tonight”– which is about remaining faithful, even though:

“I’m not denying
I hate being alone…

[at least I’ll wake]

Soaked in relief to find I am alone
With only the wrappers of Pringles and Snickers
For which to atone”

It’s a fascinating refrain, this emphasis on fidelity in a world which so often boasts that right and wrong are outdated inconveniences. Apparently it’s not so simple as asking* “Do you want tea?”

[*= although if you haven’t seen the famous ‘tea consent’ video, it’s worth watching. Follow the link above.]

An update on Thomas Clarkson

You might remember that in my last post I mentioned I was deep in research into the abolitionist Thomas Clarkson. Since then I’ve continued on my merry way down the path of Out-of-Print books and 18th century documents.

I’ve come to the realisation that perhaps (one reason) I love spending hours with Clarkson is because we have rather similar personalities! As one biographer described him: passionate, sensitive, stubborn, impatient and sometimes too blunt. While it’s always a bit uncomfortable to see your own faults scrawled in ink before your eyes, it’s certainly edifying!

I’ve really enjoyed writing the draft of the first three chapters, and hope there’ll be many more (or at least seven more) to come.

Apocalypse Now 

I’ve been enjoying The Contemplative Pastor by Eugene Peterson in the mornings. It’s exactly what it sounds like – the reflections of a pastor on, well, pastoring, life and poetry. Peterson’s book is the sort of thing you read and chew over. One quote in particular stood out to me considering the state of the world at the moment (a state which has, honestly, always been the state of the world but is definitely much more in our faces at the moment!).


“A Man for All Seasons”

It’s a circuitous route which led me to watching an amateur production of Thomas Bolt’s famous play on YouTube.

As a teenager I laughed through Roan Atkinson’s Johnny English, and of course the theme song, ‘A man of all seasons’ (“he’s charismaaaatic, with an automaaaatic!”) After googling the song I discovered the phrase “a man for all seasons” was originally used in reference to Thomas Moore, and is now the title of a play based on his life (and death).

And what a play.

For some reason all the productions I could find on YouTube are American, and the film based on the play is apparently American too.

So it took me half the play to get over that (Thomas Moore is British! It’s an essentially British story! Set in Britain!), and also to get used to various theatrical devices (breaking the fourth wall etc.). But the conclusion was fast-paced and the play is worth the watch for it’s haunting musings on the nature of the law:

  • Is it a weapon, or a light, or a causeway to walk upon?
  • Can it ever be right to circumnavigate man’s law to achieve what you believe to be God’s purpose?

And of course, the (paraphrased) observation that:

“…if virtue were profitable we would all be good, and dwell happily like angels in a land which needs no heroes.

But since evil profits far more often than goodness and we have to choose to be human… why then, perhaps we must stand fast a little – even at the risk of being heroes.”


The idea for my current painting’s been on my mind for a while. It’s not finished yet, so you can have a photo of my paint box instead. The act of painting without a purpose (ie. sale or gift) always feels luxurious to me, an indulgence of sorts.

It makes me feel so blessed – it means I am in a safe place where I can spread out my painting things without worrying they’ll be overturned, and it means I have the time to leave them there until the paint dries. Safety and time – I don’t want to ever take these for granted.


Paul’s love letter

1 Corinthians 13 is often held up as the “love passage” of the New Testament, but as I’ve been making my way through 2 Corinthians I’ve been really convicted by how much about love the entire book is.

Paul’s overwhelming love for the church in Corinth is a wonderful example of Christian love. I’ve learnt a lot about how to love those around me through reading it, and been confronted by how often my affections are not as they should be. I am called to love affectionately and generously – yet how often I am cynical and impatient instead!

“… you have such a place in our hearts that we would live or die with you…We were especially delighted to see how happy Titus was…” (7:3, 13)

What I’ve been reading/watching:

Much Ado About Nothing – Shakespeare; starring Catherine Tate & David Tennant

^ This was hilarious. Well, well, worth a watch… and it’s on YouTube!

Paper Towns – John Green

^ A book I found tedious until the final quarter, where it redeemed itself by its observations on brokenness:

“I must ask the wounded man where he is hurt, because I cannot become the wounded man. The only wounded man I can be is me.”

The Nine Tailors – Dorothy L. Sayer (audio book)

^ I began listening to this while tramping through the Yorkshire Moors, and finishing it brings back so many memories. This is such a quintessentially English book.

Researches antediluvian, patriarchal and historical, concerning the way in which men first acquired their knowledge of God and religion – Thomas Clarkson

^ This is a fascinating look into how the knowledge of God trickled down from Adam to the time of Constantine through all the nations of the world.

Thomas Clarkson: the friend of slaves – Earl Leslie Griggs

A biographical sketch of Thomas Clarkson – Thomas Taylor

Robert McCheyne: Life is an adventure – Irene Howat

William Wilberforce: Freedom Fighter – Derick Bingham

Returning home (literally and metaphorically)

I’ve long been fascinated by the metaphor of “returning home.” It’s one which trails through all types of literature. Sometimes it’s a positive statement: home represents womb-like safety, the innocence of childhood. If only the character can return home, everything will be alright and they can begin again.

Other times it’s a more negative statement. Characters have changed. They’ve made choices and lived lives, and home becomes a place of jarring discontinuity.

I feel very blessed to admit that I feel I have received the best of both sides of returning home lately. After 14 days in government quarantine I arrived home – to both opportunities and growth.

EDIT: One of these was being published in the Eternity Newspaper – you can see my article here!


My family

It was so lovely to see them again, and I’ve enjoyed having regular Broadchurch-dates with my sister.

Novel re-writing

I spent a week re-writing and revising an adult historical novel for a competition. I wouldn’t have had this chance if I’d been overseas, and it was a really wonderful experience. For 8-10 hours a day I lived, breathed and re-constructed my 1879 world. I learnt a lot about writing, and refreshed my knowledge of the the 2nd Anglo-Afghan War; the British Army; The Epic of Gilgamesh; Afghanistan; and 19th century London. So fun!

NOTE: I’m looking for Beta readers… so if you’re interested in reading an adult, historical, Christian novel with a male protagonist and telling me if you liked it, let me know!


I also feel very grateful to have time to research Thomas Clarkson. I’m captivated by his story as a Christian Abolitionist in the 18th Century, the man behind Wilberforce, as it were. His life and faith are incredible testaments and still impact us today – and there’s very few (read: no) in-print biographies of him. This is my current project, and since he was a prolific writer I’m working my way through his works at the moment.

Language learning

Since full-time study for me won’t start again for a few more weeks, I have begun learning ancient (koine) Greek online. I’m still at the ‘learn the alphabet and sounds’ stage, and currently have a lot of respect for anyone who has ever learnt a language!



Dancing in the morning

The Bible talks a lot about the Return of Joy. That come what may, though your whole world go awry, there will be dancing in the morning. This was something I had a hard time truly believing before my travels. I went through a season where I found it really difficult to hold onto hope, because it felt like so much had ‘gone wrong’.

In the past 3 months I have discovered many joys – little ones and big ones – and now I know, not just from faith, but from experience, that happiness does return. The ability to truly rejoice does come again. There may be weeping in the night, but there will also be dancing in the morning.

As long as we live we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

There are no throw-away seasons

In the same way, before my travels I felt that certain periods of my life were ‘wasted’, best forgotten. Now, after both temporal and geographical distance, I can look back and see that they weren’t. Painful, yes. Inglorious and even embarrassing, yes. But a cosmic mistake? Never.

Likewise, I can see that the time I did get overseas, little though it was, was neither a mistake or a waste.

God does place us where he wants us

Before I left to travel I told God that I was stepping out in faith, not because I am a great woman of faith, but because I had no choice. I didn’t know where He wanted me or for how long, so I asked Him to tell me. To put me in the places he wanted me to be, and for the length he wanted me there.

It turns out that place was Yorkshire for 6 weeks, not Europe for 12 months.

God still sends miracles

Again, when I was looking into options for my sabbatical year, I told God that I wanted the impossible. I wanted to stay somewhere beautiful for weeks on end, with nothing to do save walk and read and love people. I wanted to rest. This seemed (financially and practically) impossible, so in lieu of a miracle I set about making plans which might include at least one or two of desires.

Guess what I got, in the end? Six weeks of rest, with nothing to do save walk and read and love people. I feel so grateful, and so in awe.

You only need one fixed point

I think what COVID has done for many of us (for all of us?) is ripped away everything we thought was stable. Economies, countries, education, work – all these routines and normalities we so often take for granted in Western countries. Before I left I didn’t bother taking insurance for anything except for medical, because I literally said to myself: what else could possibly happen in the countries I’m visiting which could cause me to change plans?

As it turns out, a pandemic can.

And you know what? With everything else in flux, God became my only “fixed point in a changing age” (to quote Sherlock Holmes, rather out of context) – and He was truly the only anchor I needed.


Where to next?

My 2020 Sabbatical has turned out very different to what I expected. When I began to realise this, I started praying regularly for peace and joy amid my disappointment. Right now, I can say that God has mercifully given me much peace and joy. I have to admit now that I am home, I am not weeping the loss of “normal life” much at all. I wake up in the morning and my schedule is rather heavenly: Read X, Read Y, Read Z, Learn Greek, Pray, Read the Bible, Learn more about God, Run, Call a friend, Watch Broadchurch with my sister.

This will be the last in my series of ‘intentional sabbatical posts,’ so I’ll leave you, like the other times, with the books that have been shaping my thoughts:


The History of the Rise, Progress and Accomplishment of the Abolition, Volume II – Thomas Clarkson

The Contemplative Pastor – Eugene Peterson

A Portraiture of Quakerism, Volume I – Thomas Clarkson

Locked Rooms – Laurie R. King (still…)

This list looks non-fiction heavy, but since the last post I also enjoyed: Faust – Johann Goethe (English trans.); Sabriel – Garth Nix; The Raven Boys (re-read) – Maggie Stiefvater; The Nine Tailors – Dorothy L. Sayer.

Also, more on Thomas Clarkson: A biography of Thomas Clarkson – Ellen Wilson; The History etc. Volume I – Thomas Clarkson.


Living on the edge of the unknown

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that life can change completely in a single second.”

So I responded to an upset eighteen year old Canadian as we sped towards Lyon airport, the sun setting to the right of us, the long shadows of an unknown future striding to catch us from behind.

Two hours ago we had been told that everyone had to leave Taize. In a split second we had accepted an invitation to evacuate to England, our common colonising ancestor. After a stressful hour six of us had booked tickets for the only two flights we could find, for 2pm the next day. We had packed our belongings in 10 minutes, and now we were rushing to make it to the airport before France went into lockdown and the rumours of closed borders, unknown restrictions, and cancelled flights became reality.

Even as I spoke those words I was aware they were pretentious, patronizing and rather idiotic. I was also aware they were true.

Using up my last euros at the airport…

We constantly live on the edge of uncertainty. Some of us have had more reason to be aware of this than others. For as long as I can remember I have known I will not have my mum forever, and yet that split second phone call during my lunch break at work when I heard she had a mass in her pancreas still changed everything.

For as long as I can remember I’ve devoured books where dramatic things happen. Kids die too young; people are wounded in battle; last minute inheritances save the day; all is lost and all is rescued over and pver again. Yet I still remember exactly where I was when I found out that my ten year old friend had died suddenly from an undiagnosed brain tumour.

In the weeks leading up to my travels I chose not to dwell on my hopes and excitement because I knew that life is rarely smooth and expectations often go unmet. Still, the last thing I expected was a pandemic, and the hours that preceded our hasty departure will be remembered for a while.

I don’t know how my story will end, but after a sleepless 30 hours spent watching as flight after flight was cancelled and wondering if mine was next while praying the UK would not close its borders before I got in, I am currently enjoying a happy interlude.

Isn’t this stunning? There are times out on the moors when I feel God has given me eternity in the space of a few seconds.

My days are filled with sharing household responsibilities between the five of us; watching TV; knitting; Taize style prayers; walking on the desolate moors; and reading. It’s a dreamlike existence. Each morning I am beyond thankful to have a place to stay thanks to a generous friend (and their generous family) and each evening I am beyond thankful to hear that my family in Australia are still well and healthy.

At times I feel like I’ve entered an Enid Blyton book. I love moss so so much; it makes me so happy you wouldn’t believe.

I don’t know what will happen once the UK emerges from lock down and we come out of quarantine. I don’t think anyone does. The world will never be the same, and so I wait and watch and pray. I hope the lays of Europe will settle in beneficial lines for me, but I do not know.

A pastoral scene

Each of us, all the time, live precariously. It’s easy to forget this. To forget just how quickly the world can be remade, to forget how easily all the future can be undone. We are but dust and ashes, and so, so fragile. All this pandemic has done is pull back the veil a little. Right now everyone of us is being confronted with the reality of our existence simultaneously: It is uncertain. It is unknown. It is terrifying.

And so what? Do we sit and wait around for the world to end in either a bang or a whimper? Do we throw in the towel, or begin to cotton wool our nests against an apocalypse? You could. People do. But isn’t there a better way?

So many times in those chaotic few days I thought I’d never reach Yorkshire. In the first few days after I arrived I still felt like it would all be snatched away. It still could, but that’s in God’s hands, not mine.

Everything has changed, but nothing has changed. I find this really comforting. Life always was uncertain, always has been terrifying. What this pandemic does is give us the opportunity to see clearly and to decide how we will respond. Not just to the current crisis, but to the remainder of our unstable lives.

God was the answer when life seemed safe, and he remains the answer know we know it is not.

I feel utterly and entirely spoilt. God did not have to send me off to quarantine to such a place as this – and I am so, so grateful.

And so we march on. Wavering on the precipice of eternity, hands held out to Jesus. For this minute I am alive, and all the other minutes have been woven carefully into the very material of the universe by a Master Craftsman. What is unknown to me is known by He who knows me and makes himself known.

For now, that is enough.

Only in Britain..


Making Money, a discworld novel – Terry Pratchett

Thomas Clarkson’s  award-winning (and literally world changing) “An essay on the slavery and commerce of the human species, particularly the African” (1785)

The wrath of a loving God, unravelling a Biblical conundrum – Br John of Taize

Sel. From Martin Luther’s Table talk

Various fan fictions and online meta analyses.

… I also watched North and South for the first time. Seemed appropriate given the locale (I’m living in the North now). I know everyone seems to love it, but… I just couldn’t deal with the romance. On what basis do they love each other? They’ve never even had a proper conversation. It drove me up the wall.

Our rewatch of Good Omens and Doctor Who was much more enjoyable. And also appropriate given Eccleston is northern?

And credit for the title goes to the Star Trek episode “the city of the edge of forever”. Likewise, credit for the second title in the previous post goes to Gabriel Marquez’s Love in the time of the cholera.

Lastly, T. S. Elliot owns “a bang or a whimper” and his poem is absolutely stunning:

If you can imagine…

If you can imagine a tiny village in France, with 11th-18th century buildings covered in moss and vines, and daffodils and green paddocks stretching as far as one can see –

If you can imagine getting sunburnt one day and snowed upon the next, bare trees and blue skies, biting winds and freezing evenings –

If you can imagine two thousand Portuguese students and two hundred other individuals singing and praying three times a day in a sprawling, candle lit church –

If you can imagine being one of only two native English speakers, and having a 1/5 chance of a song being in your language, and listening while each Bible passage is read aloud in three languages (thankfully English is always included) –


If you can imagine prayer first thing in the morning and last thing at night and discussion groups of individuals from every religious and non religious background imaginable –


If you can imagine white robed Brothers in church and then the same ones in fleece jackets and slacks afterwards. If you can imagine Sisters from 3 different orders in jeans and cardigans –

If you can imagine cocoa in a bowl and bread with chocolate sticks for breakfast and some variation on pasta, green apples, beans/peas, cheese and bread for every meal –

If you can imagine long queues filled with singing Portuguese students and longer walks in the French countryside –

If you can imagine endless barricks and tents and a garden of silence complete with a lake –

If you can imagine all this, perhaps you can imagine a community called Taize.