And out the other side – life after Sandhurst

Friends, I survived. After three months of training, a crash course couple of weeks in the unit, and then the blissful embrace of the Christmas holidays, now I am a padre. Admittedly, I have a few years official ‘probation’, but I’m still the single padre responsible for my unit, with a senior chaplain available at the end of a phone. Everything still feels very new and strange, and I am relieved in moments I get to do something ‘normal’ and priestly, but it is exciting. This role is already such a privilege, but it needs a lot of self-sufficiency and taking the initiative.

Around that, I have finally landed in a house, after sleeping (or not) in eight beds and a sleeping bag over the last five months. There are still boxes to unpack, but we are slowly getting everything out, though it will be a little bare even when we are through. I bought white goods for the first time in my life, which was a bit of a milestone, and the kilometres of road between me and various people I love are becoming intimate friends, though I will never like the M25. Never. I am very happy with my new car, which is doing well at all I am asking of it. I have connected with the Cathedral, the Deanery, the SCP Chapter and an Archdeacon. I have found a Pilates studio, the local pool, and the stables – God sniggering up the divine sleeve when, in my first lesson back on a horse after fifteen years, the creature I was on was badly behaved, disruptive and difficult, and it was called… Parish. No, really, genuine name.

Anyway, I am still very much processing the huge change since I said farewell to the actual parish in August, and the immense number of experiences I have had. The emotional toll was great, with extreme highs and lows, without a moment to catch my breath, and I am incredibly grateful to my friends, family, and colleagues who have supported me through it all. It seems bonkers to contemplate, really. I returned to St John’s for Epiphany Carols and the musical director’s leaving do this month, and it was a little like the army and Sandhurst was some fever dream, except the fact that I could tell that I am not the same person that last walked out those doors, not least because many struggled to recognise me with my grown-out hair!

Every shift along my journey of calling and discernment has felt momentous, and not just life-changing, but person-changing, and this is no different. My life was that of a stage manager, then ordination candidate, pastoral assistant, ordinand, curate, now padre. I am still a theatrical, and a discerner of calling, and an Anglican, and a priest, and now a (professionally qualified) officer (in the distinctive and nuanced way of army chaplains) as well. And that’s just my identity. I have learned patience, temperance, and understanding; I have learned the value of a phone call, of sacrifice, of every single incomprehensible human being God has made; I have become more considerate, confident, and theologically-minded.

As I have oft observed on this blog, that is partly due to just growing up, but I think there’s also something to finding the right path and following where you are called in which transformation is inherent, which should not surprise us coming from a resurrected Saviour. That transformation is not always being built up – I have lost my life in theatre, I have broken friendships, I have been split in two at points, as part of that process of transformation, which should not surprise us coming from a crucified Saviour. And it is holistic, both this holy thread of ministering, communion, and purpose, and weaved with the mundane ropes of packing, logistics, and fridges, which should not surprise us coming from an incarnate Saviour.

I am where I am called to be. That is very reassuring given all I’ve done to get here! Now to discover what I am called to do here, what I am called to join in with, or start, or prevent, how I am to love and be loved. I hope to be a gift, as much as these people are already a gift to me.

Called to be miserable (currently, not forever)

I am in the belly of the beast at the moment, just over midway through my 8 weeks at Sandhurst, and I have ended up with a bit of free time. Sadly, on the second exercise in the field, I sprained my ankle, so I have not been able to complete the third exercise, which all my fellow cadets are currently on. It's not a weekend off, but it is a weekend without structure on what to do, so I have made a list of things that will be productive. I was struck this morning that a bit of in-the-moment reflection on my calling and discernment would be incredibly useful. I'm sitting waiting for the Sunday service at my old church to start streaming, so let's get a bit godly in advance.

This frustrating time is an incredible challenge to my sense of being where I am supposed to be. These last five weeks have been very hard, but it has all felt purposeful, even when feeling sleep deprived, worried about getting hypothermic while lying on the wet ground on patrol at 6am, coming last in the navigation exercise, and being at the back of every run. And I have not struggled as much as I could have done. Those experiences are places where I have done my best to do what my people do and understand the community I have joined to serve. But now I do not feel that I am where my people are - I'm getting uninterrupted sleep in a bed, three hot meals served every day, and even time to watch TV for pity's sake; I'm not miserable, running into a section attack, or getting up in the night to go on sentry, or eating cold rations in a hurry.

What does it mean that I am still called to be here? I could hold onto this time at Sandhurst being some benighted agony of necessary evil that the padres are being forced through before we start the 'real job'. I don't buy that, but then that means I have to make sense of my current experience are already doing the job. 

What I am holding onto are the stats of Incarnation. How Jesus spent his Incarnate time was [very roughly]: 

- 0.01% passion/crucifixion/resurrection, 

- 9.09% rabbi, 

- and then 90.9% being one of us. 

Thirty years as a baby, boy, student, man, eldest son, awkward brother, apprentice then master craftsman, head of the household, synagogue member, helping in the community, drinking and feasting and fasting, hanging out with his friends, settling arguments, discussing problems, going through struggles and difficulties, being with those struggling alongside him - first century Palestine bog standard bloke life. What I have been learning, and that this injury has very much hit home, is that this job is 90.9% being, being myself, who and how I am, with these people in this place. Being one of them most of the time, living the 2023 Surrey bog standard cadet life.

I wonder how much Jesus thought about all that he was missing and all that he felt he 'should' be doing during those thirty years. I wonder if he struggled with his dual identity, and what it meant to keep all that he was beyond his humanity still in sight when it was mostly put off.

Holding onto the fact that I am so much more than a cadet is a deeply challenging struggle. Now, there have been many moments that I have done some 9.09% stuff - I have had one-on-ones with other cadets, I have had fellowship with the padres and we've done prayers with anyone who came along, I have organised an All Souls event, and challenged the staff very directly. I have also been a person, going to see the people I love, reading my books and writing my journal, browsing a catalogue, planning a holiday, ie living my life beyond my role, and rooting myself in who I have become that feeds my role. 

All of this is doing the job already, and next module I will do some 0.01% stuff (either a field service or a company prayer service). So it's not benighted agony of necessary evil - it's time to figure this stuff out. These 12 weeks total training are as much for me as for the army to instruct me in what they think I need to know. This is exactly the same as at drama school and at theological college: it is easy to not see the time as the gift that it is and get frustrated that we aren't 'doing' the thing we signed up to do, rather than exploiting the opportunity to reflect and grow as a person, which is filling the jar that pours into the role.

I am not waiting to get to my unit so I can 'finally' take up my calling. I am called to be struggling through officer's training, I am called to heed to medical centre's instructions, I am called to try my best at things I know I am not good at. I am called to be mostly a cadet, and I'm sure at my unit, I will be called to be mostly 'present', forging relationships over the daily minutiae of life, listening to complaints about the army and negotiating when to explore that further and when to leave it as a necessary expression without follow up. I'm sure parish priests can relate - as much as there are services to take, pastoral care to do, and teaching to be done, so much of what a priest is called to do includes admin, buildings, arguments, meetings, and paperwork. The system isn't perfect and it is a huge blessing that in the army I have clerks that do some of that, but my point still stands. 

The Incarnation teaches me a holistic view of calling. I am called as a whole person; I do not hang up my calling like a hat when I get in and spend time away from the role, nor am I attending to my calling any less when I feel very un-priestly crawling in a very undignified manner through dewy ferns behind someone with a rifle, or going to bed at a reasonable hour of my own choosing to rest my injured body. That is what a priest called at this time to be a padre looks like. This, me, I am what a priest called at this time to be a padre looks like. 

Awesome. Thank you, Jesus.

I'm in the army! Eight years discernment later

 

Apologies for putting this video on the blog a while after it was published on Youtube. Also many apologies for not realising I had used the camera's audio not my mic's! 

I write this at the Chaplaincy Centre and watching that back, it feels like a million years ago even though it's only a few days since I said goodbye and moved out. It's all going well so far!

My future in the army? Seven years following a call

I am into my third year of curacy, and my second of priesthood. (If you want to see a little of what I've been up to, I have updated my Steps page with some highlights). As I have said throughout this blog, discernment of vocation is a rolling task, and my journey to ordained priest was just one chapter. Okay, may be more like a volume, but one of many in the series of my life. Our calling as Christians is never just one thing, to be figured out, then just keep doing it until you die. Even for clergy, whose calling has this headline to it, the context in which we are a priest changes; either called to the same place and/or people which will inevitably change simply with time, or called to different places and different people at different times.

Third year of curacy takes a turn towards 'the next step', looking ahead and starting to think about 'what's next', because just like the official discernment process looks to BAP, the BAP looks to college, and college looks to curacy, curacy looks to (usually) First Incumbency. This is often framed as the You've Made It ⭐️ stage: discernment and formation is done, the ordinand caterpillar has gone through the goo of the curacy chrysalis and emerged a slightly wet vicar butterfly. The diocese will help you with things like training, supervision, and mentoring (I believe), and eventually you'll be on the hamster wheel of MDRs (Ministerial Development Reviews). 

From what I can tell, the latter can be used brilliantly as a tool for clergy to continue in discernment and formation, but depends entirely on the drive of the individual, so some use it as a tickbox exercise because they are all-consumed by their parish. Any thought of personal development is dismissed or repressed because it is not priority enough to warrant carving time for amongst the day-to-day demands of their current role. Because it is 'personal', it is hard for clergy to see the wood for the trees - their 'ministry' only counts if it is parish-related.

I don't blame clergy who end up in this position one jot, and I will inevitably find myself in that groove at some point. I can only hope that I will manage to climb back out of it before I am irredeemably entrenched.

Theologian Frederick Buechner defines vocation as the place where “your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” (See more here.) It is easy to slide from one extreme to the other on that scale, either doing something joyful and purposeless or something worthwhile and soul-sucking. The CofE is built on the parish system; it's the beating heart of this member of the body of Christ on and of this land, and I don't think it is possible to understand oneself to be part of the CofE without some tether into that system. So the majority of the clergy that are ordained into it are rightly called to be parish priests of some variety. I may at some point in the future discern that my calling will take me there, but at the moment, I feel called somewhere else. That is not currently where my deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet. 

The seed of a calling to chaplaincy was planted in 2014 (God bless the Church Times book tent at Greenbelt!) you can see my post about it in 2015 here, and it has snowballed. From another post, a summary of my calling can be: 

"The main thing the [military] personnel reflected was that the Padre must care; 

and I thought "I can do that". 

I started reading about military chaplaincy. I talked to my first military chaplain in March 2016, see here. I started to grasp that military chaplaincy is a 'niche' calling, and discerning it was going to have to self-directed. At events, I chose to attend anything that discussed chaplaincy (where I got nuggets like thinking of it as a bit like being a friar in a community). Once I got to theological college, I did a placement with a school chaplain, but got excited when an RAF chaplain visited, so signed up to their recruitment stuff and did a visit in the summer of 2019. 

That May, I had talked to an incredible woman. [I love this story so I'll put it in full. A friend of mine from sixth form ended up in Newcastle, so we hung out while I was up in Durham. He invited me to a trip with his uni alpine society that includes alumni, and so we drove down to Cheddar Gorge. Over that weekend, I spoke to another alumni, and the clergy thing came up, and then so did the interest in the army. He said he was a reserves medic and loved their padre, and put me in touch with her.] That conversation not only got me so excited ("Sign me up, I want to do that!") but she put me in touch with the priest running the pilot Chaplain Cadet scheme. So I ended up spending Sep 2019-June 2020 at the NUOTC on placement.

My point is, this idea that I want to sign up as an army chaplain after curacy, rather than be an incumbent, has not come out of the blue, and it's not about running away from something (parish) but towards something (padre). It has been 8 years of discernment as a thread in my wider discernment. I'm looking at my 'next step' fairly early; one usually doesn't look until Christmas in year 3. But the application process means coordinating the behemoth institutions of the Army, the CofE, and the NHS, so I was advised that cracking on in January 2022 meant I would be sorted well in advance of the entry point Sep 2023.

I want to end my curacy with both feet still in the door. It might seem like getting things sorted early is the opposite of that, but doing all the application forms and visits and fitness training (I've joined a gym! WTF?! Follow me on Twitter to keep up with that drama) well in advance means that I won't be doing it in the last six months of being here, so I can really be here up until the last.

Like I said, I am a CofE priest, and that means I be definition can't leave the parish system as such. I am still operating under a bishop's licence as a chaplain, and I might up end up transitioning to be a reservist, where you are much more anchored in a diocese. I don't want to be a chaplain who disconnects, holes up in their institution, and imagines their ordained status as 'absolute' ie unrelated to any place (in the CofE, one cannot be ordained without being ordained into a role), as if their ministry is floating in a bubble. 

Some people suggest chaplaincy as a place for curacy and that is a rather stupid idea in my opinion. Curacy is, as Lucy always says, where you learn your muscle memory as a priest, and a priest in the Church of England is a priest of this Church and of this place, England. The ministry of this member of the body of Christ is defined as on and of this land, most definitively exercised in the parish system. Cof E Chaplains have anything to offer the places they serve because they are rooted in that system, and technically so are all the people they serve. If you are in or of an English diocese, you are under the cure of a bishop, shared to a specific priest in each place. I never want to forget that, and so regardless of my growing call to chaplaincy, this curacy has been my focus for its parochical nature. I am a CofE priest, I cannot pick and choose parts I like and think are 'relevant' to some future role I may have. 

I get that I am sounding a little defensive. I have picked up some very unjust opinions of chaplains from within the parish system, and so it is important to me in my reflections that I do not see them as different and certainly not opposed. Chaplaincy is more important now as less people go to church because it means the church going to where the people are. I see it as a very twenty-first century ministry in that regard, in a similar way to the church waking up to the importance of cathedrals. 

So at the moment, the next chapter looks set to be army chaplaincy. I say looks to be because firm plans are rarely a good idea in discernment; I try to keep to dreams and ideas most of the time, until decisions are needed, and they are not needed yet. The application process is rolling on, but I benefit from the policy that if I am offered a commission, I have five years to take it up. There's a lot of other factors in life to consider in the decisions to be made, and I'm trying not to rush, whilst at the same time sensibly getting on top of things that take time.

My questions are still the same as ever - where am I called to, what am I called to, who am I called to? My prayer always comes back to the verse quoted in this blog's title: "Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning, for in you I put my trust. Teach me the way I should walk in, for to you I lift up my soul." (Psalm 143). Discernment continues to be hard, which is not what I thought would happen. I thought I would make it through to being a fully qualified priest at the end of curacy and it would let up slightly, that I would have established my sense of purpose so following a path would be easier.

But it is a rolling task, as I said. I feel lucky that I have been gifted the years of groundwork that mean I do not see end of the curacy as a big, scary void that I have to fill with some job somewhere that I'm only starting to think about now. My next step is not decided, but it is slowly being sketched out, a dream of a butterfly with camo wings. I think it will be both worthwhile for the world and joyful for me; I can imagine that I will work to feed a part of the world's deep hunger, and get my own deep gladness. That's what it feels like when I contemplate being a padre. I can do that.