Update on the Sanctuary

There is a moment in the Gospels when the disciples find themselves exactly where they did not intend to be. Jesus has said, “Let us go across to the other side” (Mark 4:35). They set off in obedience, doing what they believe they have been asked to do. And then, without warning, a storm rises. The waves break over the boat. Water fills the space that was meant to carry them safely forward.

That story has been sitting with me this week.

Following the recent flooding, the Sanctuary space will need to remain closed for a few more weeks while we continue to assess and monitor the situation. The encouraging news is that, so far, the damage might not be as severe as before. We are thankful for that. At the same time, we recognise the disruption this brings, and the sense of frustration that comes with it.

If I am honest, this has hurt. The disciples do not respond to the storm with calm acceptance. They cry out, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38). Scripture does not edit that out. It gives us permission to name fear, disappointment, and exhaustion in God’s presence. We find ourselves doing the same. Many of us hoped the worst was behind us, and to face flooding again has been wearying. We are trying not to deny that feeling, but to bring it honestly into prayer.

What is striking in the story is not that the storm appears, but that Jesus is already in the boat. He does not promise the crossing will be calm. He promises his presence. Even asleep, he is not absent. When he wakes, he speaks peace into chaos, and the waters still. But the stilling does not come before the fear is felt or the question is asked.

We are living in that in-between moment. The storm has not fully passed, but it has not overwhelmed us either. While the Sanctuary space itself rests, we are beginning to look carefully and creatively at how the rest of the building might be used so that shared life can continue. We are hopeful that things like the coffee morning might still happen, perhaps in adapted ways, shaped by what is possible now rather than what we had planned before.

In the boat, the disciples are not asked to solve the storm. They are asked to stay, to trust, and to keep crossing. That feels like our calling in this moment. To remain together. To keep loving our neighbours. To be attentive to where welcome can still be offered, even if it looks different for a time.

So we want to invite you into this with us. If you have ideas about how space might be used differently, how community might be nurtured creatively, or how care can continue to be shared while the Sanctuary rests, we would genuinely love to hear them.

The Spirit who hovered over the waters in creation is still at work, bringing order, imagination, and life.

Storms reveal how little control we really have. They also reveal where Christ already is. We trust that he is with us in this crossing, steady and faithful, even when the waters feel close. The destination has not changed. The journey simply looks different for a while.

Thank you for walking this season with honesty, patience, and grace.

All God’s Blessings,

Dan