Sharing some thoughts

There’s a moment in the  reading from  Genesis (2:15- 17;3:1 -7)  that always makes me  think . It’s the moment just before everything  seems to fall apart  -  Adam  and Eve are standing in a garden overflowing with possibility , with  beauty, abundance, freedom. God has given them  everything they need, and more besides. And yet, in the middle of all that goodness, there is one tree they are told not to touch.   It’s a strange detail, isn’t it? Why put the tree there at all? Why allow the possibility of failure?   But perhaps the point is that love always involves freedom. You cannot have  a  real relationship without the possibility of choosing otherwise. God doesn’t create  robots,  God creates people. And people, as we know from our own lives, have a remarkable capacity to choose  our own thing  even if  that isn’t  always  good for us !    Back in that garden, t he ser...

Today is the last Sunday before Lent, and that always feels to me like a kind of gentle tap on the shoulder from God. It’s a   reminder that Lent isn’t meant to be a gloomy endurance test, but a gift — a season that invites us to grow, to pay attention again, to rediscover God who has never stopped paying attention to us. And our readings today help us do that by taking us up a mountain. Some of you may have visited the Holy Land, and if you have, you might have been to Mount Tabor — one of the traditional sites of the Transfiguration. Whether or not it’s the exact mountain, it’s certainly a place where Christians have remembered that moment for centuries. It’s a beautiful spot, with views that stretch out for miles. I once spent a night in the monastery up there, and it’s one of those places where the peace of God feels  intermingled with the air. But the journey up is… well, memorable! There’s only one road, and you go up in minibuses that take the corners at a speed tha...

It’s wonderful to be with you today as we celebrate the Patronal Festival of this church. A Patronal Festival is a bit like a birthday and like any birthday, it’s a chance to look back, give thanks, and ask what the future might look like. And what a gift we have in St Teilo. When we hear his name, it’s easy to picture a saint frozen in stained glass - serene, still, and safely tucked away in the past. But from what we know, the real Teilo was anything but static. He was a man on the move, a man whose life says something urgent and hopeful about God. Teilo lived in a world that felt fragile - a world of sickness, conflict, and uncertainty. It might sound strangely familiar perhaps? And yet, instead of hiding away, he stepped out. He travelled across Wales, Cornwall, and Brittany, planting communities of faith wherever he went. He didn’t build an empire; he built belonging. He created places where people discovered hope, healing, and purpose. And one of those places is right her...