God in the midst – A reflection on OTN’s national gathering
Peter (left) presenting creative contributions to the ‘mapping sacred space’ breakout group at the Open Table Network national gathering in June. Sacred Space Mapping involves creatively reflecting on what sacred spaces are important to us as community and as individuals. Peter Jones is a a Postgraduate Researcher whose PhD research is on how LGBTQ+ Christians create spaces to explore faith and identity through creativity. READ MORE.
AT OUR national gathering last month, PhD researcher Peter Jones, whose research features stories of Open Table members, led a breakout group on ‘mapping sacred space’. Here Peter reflects on how the event was so much more than another research opportunity.
It’s not quite 5am and my alarm goes off. Rolling over, I hold the urge to say snooze, and stand to my feet.
My train leaves in just over an hour - knowing that I am not at all a morning person, my very helpful past self has arranged the many bags I need already. Tired but with a quiet excitement, I lug my backpack over my shoulder and grab an overflowing bag of art supplies and maps, ready to head up to Leyland for the Open Table Network national gathering.
I started my PhD work with Open Table way back in September 2019, before the network was even registered as a charity; when there were fewer communities, and the world hadn’t yet been struck by a global pandemic. Finally, almost three years later, I will get to meet people in person, to see them as they are, not just the Zoom-boxed faces I had seen online.
Sitting on the train, with a copy of Henri Nouwen’s The Wounded Healer in my hand, I try and focus to read the pages, but my excitement and thoughts are facing northward. My anticipation as a researcher fills me, as I once again mentally prep myself for the workshop I will give later that day. The deep excitement within me bubbles up as I prayerfully dream about what might happen today. I read the words of Morning Prayer:
‘The night has past and the day lies open before us, let us pray with one heart and mind’.
My train is delayed and I arrive in Leyland later than expected. The tower of St Ambrose’s Church stands a stone’s throw from the train tracks, peering over a row of houses. As I enter the church hall it’s already buzzing with activity, and I crack a smile to see community so easily and excitedly coming together.
That’s the thing about Open Table for me - in my short time with Open Table Liverpool, the sense of community was so evident. I attended their gatherings when I could for the year I did my Master’s degree, still juggling my time and my heart between more conservative evangelical churches and the inclusive space of Open Table. Yet the sense of community, however small and fleeting, was always evident to me. As I walk into the national gathering, that same nostalgic wave of presence finds me once again. In my field diary I write:
I feel genuinely stirred by the intentional nature of this setting. And moved. And already I feel the pull between researcher and worshipper. Between work and faith and activism and love for God and calling and research. I’m stuck in amongst it all, each moment and intervention and act for worship tugging on all of these strings within me.
Somewhat naively, I suppose, I started my PhD expecting to follow a career in academia; closing the lid on a call to ordination in the church. As I have delved more into the research, I have increasingly realised that God cannot be boxed, and a sense of calling has a habit of catching up with you wherever you go.
Then I realised, and learnt to accept, that this too was vocational work. God finds us in the everyday things of life. Our work, whatever it may be, is used by God, and God speaks through it all whenever we are willing to listen.
Having spent many months processing my own sense of calling, catching up once again, and learning not to fight as much to disentangle these parts of my multi-faceted holiness, I arrive at the Open Table national gathering as a bundle of this sacred messiness; and once again the Open Table community holds all of me as I am. My expectations of the day move from just thinking about the research and the workshop; my soul speaks - God has something for me today.
Revd Alex Clare-Young, a trans non-binary URC minister and Co-Chair of the Open Table Network, leads us in worship. They invite us to think of four things we would like to receive today. Once again, in my field diary I am focused on writing the hundreds of thoughts rushing around my head. I write:
Joy. Friendship. Hope. Knowledge.
Alex continues to lead us in prayerful worship. I realise now they are using a technique that I have used before to manage anxiety and panic attacks. What can you see? What can you hear? Counting down through each part. Three things you can hear. Two things you can see and be thankful for. Finally, what’s your one intention for the day? To be present, I think to myself, just to be present.
The whole gathering is filled with a full range of emotion. Moments of joy spring up as OTN Co-ordinator Kieran talks about Open Table’s journey. Hecklers are welcome as banter sparks out in love. Throughout the day each room of this sacred place will see tears; of joy and of pain - some of relief.
I attend a workshop with Alex as they walk us through what counts as communion. (Ever since the gathering, I have been trying to convince my friend, undoubtedly higher up the candle than me, that a coconut can be communion and we should try it!) As the gathering draws to a close, we share communion and laugh in irony as we realise no-one has brought the elements for the Eucharist. So in the blissful, spontaneous sacred moment we use the things Alex brought for their workshop: grape juice, bread rolls and gluten-free crackers!
The joy of the moment mixes with tears as we pass the chalice round in a circle. ‘Jesus’ blood shed for you’, my queer, trans body says as I pass the small goblet to the lesbian minister in front of me. I can’t stop myself from tearing up as my body, mind and soul recognise the significance of the moment. My head buzzes with the ways I could write about these moments in my research. My heart overflows as I find a space where my whole self is involved in worship. My soul stirs at acknowledging that the moment is a nudge from the Holy Spirit, as a whisper flows into my thoughts; ‘this is your calling, my boy’. For a split moment I am caught daydreaming about the day I shall be ordained. Then, I catch a glimpse from across the room of an Open Table member I had only met online. She laughs at me, then we get stuck in a giggle match, avoiding looking at each other so we don’t break into more laughter.
In OTN’s first Annual Report, published for the national gathering, you’ll read how The Open Table Network grew from 18 to 21 communities in 2021. The number has risen to 25 already in 2022. You’ll read about independent research where 89% of members said that Open Table provided them with a safe place, and 92% said it increased their sense of belonging. With an ever growing list of communities preparing to launch, and more enquiries being made to ask to join this fast expanding network, it’s easy to see just how well received and needed The Open Table Network truly is.
However, what you miss in these undoubtedly amazing reports is all the ways God moves in community when Open Table gathers. Around fifty of us gathered in Leyland, from a mix of backgrounds, denominations and contexts. Some were leaders of Open Table communities, some were long-standing members, others had just joined, and some had never been to an Open Table community before coming to the national gathering.
‘For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst.’- Matthew 18:20.
God here, in the midst of us. God in the midst of the queer. God in the midst of the trans. God in the midst of the gay, the bi, the straight, the non-binary. God in the midst of the messy, undecided, unsure. God in the midst of the broken, the bold, and the downright beautiful.
I have the deep pleasure of glimpsing so many moments of God moving among us. The day offers time for Open Table members to come together, worship, hear of the work and achievements of the network, discuss theological ideas, meet new people, be held in prayer. Within all of these things I witness the small moments of community within which God’s glory can be seen in glimpses and glimmers.
I reflect back on The Wounded Healer. At The Open Table national gathering I see the goodness of God move in a messy and holy community, filled with people whose stories I have been gifted the honour of hearing as part of my research.
