Into the unfamiliar

These three words have held significance for me for many years. They were prompted by a study module when I was at theological college: in order to broaden our practical experience of church and ministry, we were asked to organise a placement in an "unfamiliar context". For many students, that meant spending time in a neighbouring parish where the tradition was somewhat different from what they were used to; for others, it was about exploring chaplaincy and spending time working in a school, hospital or prison. For me, that call to step into the unfamiliar took me further afield. I decided I wished to return to Egypt and was invited to spend some time with a CMS missionary family from the UK, who were living and working in an Egyptian city, Beni Suef, located on the Nile some 100 kilometres south of Cairo. Arrangements had been made and my flights were booked, when the Anglican Bishop of Egypt and the Horn of Africa decided to relocate my intended hosts. No matter, they said; alternative arrangements could be made for me to stay, not in the planned relative comfort of the hospitality of an English family. but in the Coptic Orthodox convent in the city instead. So I undertook a crash course in colloquial Arabic and set off, convinced of the call to return to Egypt and confident that I was heading along a path that would in some way enrich my vocation and ministry.

The rooftops of Beni Suef (2009) taken from the convent

You can read more about my time in Egypt in my previous blog post from July 2024 (click here). It is, of course, far easier to sense the purpose in past events with the benefit of hindsight, to see how they shaped what happened next and the relevance they now hold. Yet, over the past month, I have been reminded of the feelings that accompany those steps into the unfamiliar at the time - the feellings of helplessness, of uncertainty, and apprehension of where it might lead. Just over a year ago, I began a two year course at art school, studying for a Masters in Fine Art with Oxford Brookes University. I had a strong sense that this was an important step in broadening my engagement with visual theology, taking me beyond the rules and traditions of iconography, and into a setting within which I could explore my own voice as both theologian and artist. The first year was devoted largely to art theory and studying principles of contemporary art through the practice of artists whose success has been documented. It was hard to acclimatise myself to a new setting but relatively straightforward academically and what felt to be safe territory. In mid-September this year, however, I embarked on the second year. This is the practice year, a year designed to challenge, to help me to discern a direction for my art practice, a year to encourage me to enter into a new unfamiliar. And those same feelings of helplessness, uncertainty and apprehension are strong indeed. What exactly am I doing and, more to the point, why?

Leftovers from a recent MFA project

Like most courses of study, the modules are structured to set a series of tasks and requirements with progressing levels of challenge and complexity. As a student, while I might spend much time wondering why we are doing it or sensing how strange it feels to be working in this way, I have no real choice but to trust the process. It is to step forward into a new unknown and see where it leads. When I was first setting out on the journey into ordained ministry, I was part of a reflective group; we would meet each month to share and discuss our experiences as we tried to discern God's call upon our life, each of us on our own particular path. Out of that time of reflection came a metaphor that has stayed with me these past nearly twenty years. Following God's call can be like walking a mountainous terrain in the fog. It is impossible to see the destination but if you are lucky, you can just see far enough to the next cairn, perhaps set by a well-meaning traveller before you, perhaps a longer-lasting waypost. There are ups and there are downs and all you can do is take the next step, trusting that you will be able to gain a glimpse of where the step after that one might land.

This is where I am at. Over the past several weeks, I have been exploring different ideas and approaches to making art. I have been amused, perplexed, frustrated, disappointed and (very occasionally) satisfied. I am meeting deadlines and, to all intents and purposes, doing what I am meant to be doing. I am taking creative decisions that feel risky, devising projects that feel hugely challenging and having to step way out of my comfort zones. And yet, through all of this, I still don't really know what I am doing or why, or how this will come to make sense in the wider context of my call to ordained ministry. So just as with my trip to Egypt all those years ago, I am simply holding onto what I do know, the sense of being called to be in this place, at this time. The call to keep journeying, to keep trusting in the One who has "brought me safe thus far".

So I want to encourage you. So often, the impression we are given by people in the public arena or on social media is of individuals with a clear sense of purpose or identity, those who have got everything sorted, people who have arrived where they set out to be and are now basking in the feelings of fulfilment. It is not always like that. A positive outward presentation can easily mask a deep well of self-doubt and apprehension. So if you are experiencing uncertainty, or you're not quite sure what is going on or where life might be taking you; if you have ended up in a place or a role but you're not exactly sure why God has put you here, rest in the knowledge that you are not alone. I trust that God is in the midst of our uncertainty and self-doubt, and that one day we will see what it was all about. But that is not for now. Now, all we are asked to do is to be a little bit brave, to keep taking the step in front of us and trust that there will come a time when we can look back, see how far we have travelled, and know that it was for a reason.

News

By the time I write next month, I will have prepared sufficient work for an MFA interim show, which will be open to the public at the Glass Tank exhibition space in Oxford Brookes. I will let you know more details nearer the time, should you wish to come along to see more of what I have been up to.

Meanwhile, my icon commissions have been progressing as I continue to catch up from the demands of the summer months. These past weeks saw me deliver my latest completed commission, St Mark the Evangelist, to a grateful client. Work has already begun on the next one, the lesser known St Roch (or Rocco), patron saint of dogs - this will include my first icon animal!

I also spent a wonderful day at the end of October with a gathering of folk at St Mary's Church in Guildford, exploring icons as part of our spirituality, and with an afternoon of practical demonstrations of how icons are designed and made. It is 15 years since I lived in Guildford but it still felt somewhat like going home, and a blessing to be amongst friends.

My printers duly delivered the latest batch of icon cards, some of which have already made their way to Pilgrim Gifts of Walsingham (and online) and to St John the Baptist Church in Cirencester. I am delighted that Salisbury Cathedral shop is now also added to my list of stockists. I am still offering a discounted price to my subscribers for my latest icon print of Julian of Norwich, which includes a single mount for standard frame size 12" x 10". Click here to drop me a message if you would like to order a copy at the special price of £55 (incl. P&P to UK mainland - normally £65).

And looking ahead to next year, early bird booking has already opened for my next Praying with Icons retreat at the beautiful Launde Abbey, 7-9 September 2026. More details here

If you enjoy reading my blog and wish to support my ministry in a practical way, I have set up a page with "Buy me a coffee". This website, designed with creatives in mind, recognises that a whole load of my time goes into maintaining a website, keeping up with social media and writing blog posts, time that is not then available for income-generating work. Given that my passion for good coffee comes not very far behind my love for God and art (!), if you feel so inclined, you can click here to make a donation towards my ongoing ministry (but without any obligation to do so). Huge thanks to those of you who have bought me a coffee in previous months - please don't feel you have to every time or at all!