Dear friends,
As September arrives, we find ourselves standing once again at the edge of the seasons — with the richness of summer behind us, and the crisp, golden breath of autumn beginning to stir in the trees. Our summer this year has been nothing short of strange. Sunshine and storms have danced uneasily together, one moment basking heat, the next a sudden downpour. Perhaps that odd weather mirrors something of our lives today — beauty and unpredictability often living side by side, and how me must expect the unexpected.
Despite the strange weather, the fields have yielded their crops, very early in most cases: blackberries are already over ripe in the hedgerows There are damsons still on the tree at Powick Church, so be quick if you want some for jam. Apples hang heavy on our trees. The harvest, in all its forms, still comes. Harvest has always been a sacred time. In Scripture, it is both a physical event and a spiritual metaphor — a time of gratitude, but also of accountability. Jesus often spoke of harvests to describe not only crops, but people — lives, talents, faith, and the fruits of love and service.
So perhaps we might ask: what kind of harvest are we bringing before God this year?
As our schools reopen and colleges restart, I’m reminded that this too is a time of sowing and reaping — sowing knowledge, encouragement, routine, discipline, and grace, and praying that these seeds take root in the minds and hearts of our young people. The harvest we look forward to here is not measured in baskets or barns, but in lives shaped, potential unlocked, and the quiet blossoming of their character. And of course, autumn awaits — the season of colour and letting go. The trees will soon teach us, again, how beautiful it can be to release what we no longer need. In faith, we are constantly invited into that same pattern: growth, fruitfulness, surrender, and rest — all held gently in the hands of our Creator.
You may have also noticed flags flying from the lamp posts across our area — vibrant, fluttering in the wind. They are meant, perhaps, as signs of pride or welcome. But for some, they may feel like signs of difference or exclusion. Let’s be careful with what we are saying. What do such symbols say about us? Are they truly signs of hospitality — the kind Jesus practiced — or do they unintentionally create distance from those that feel isolated or unloved, or even unwanted? As Christians, we are called to bear the flag of Christ, whose banner is love, whose kingdom is welcome, and whose community makes room for every person, without exception. Whether we fly real flags or not, may our churches, our homes, and our hearts be places of genuine welcome.
So, as we gather in the fruits of harvest, celebrate education, and prepare for the coming season, may we do so with thanksgiving, reflection, and a renewed commitment to being good stewards — not only of creation, but of one another.
With every blessing for the month ahead. Gary