by Archdeacon Claire Phelps
Dear Family of St John’s
The last six weeks have been a particularly full and demanding season. Lent, Holy Week, and Easter always carry with them a great deal of preparation, energy, and care. Alongside this, I have had the privilege of journeying with three couples preparing for marriage – celebrating one wedding in March and two in April – and sharing in the joy of a couple renewing their marriage vows. We have also welcomed several children through baptism, with more to come in the months ahead.
These moments have been filled with deep joy and celebration. Yet, at the same time, our parish has walked through a season of loss, as we have said farewell to a number of beloved members who have gone home to be with the Lord. As is so often the case in the life of the Church, joy and sorrow have sat side by side.
And now, you may be wondering where on earth this newsletter is going…
Perhaps it is the combination of these experiences – or perhaps it is the gentle (or not-so-gentle!) reminders that I am fast approaching my half-century – that has led me to reflect on the different phases of our lives. Some in my household (my sons, in particular!) seem to think this is a great source of amusement, while others reassure me that 50 is still young. I have decided, quite sensibly, to listen to the latter.
What has struck me most is what a gift it is to share in the full span of life within our parish community. From the tiniest newborns to our children and teenagers, young adults finding their way, couples beginning married life, families and individuals navigating the busyness of work and home, grandparents, and those enjoying (or redefining!) retirement – every stage is present among us.
It is a privilege I don’t take lightly: to witness faith being planted and nurtured, to learn from your stories and wisdom, and to see the quiet, steady ways in which God is at work in each season of life.
Our recent funerals, though difficult – as they always are – have also been deeply moving. Again and again, I have heard stories of lives shaped by faith: of people who loved the Lord, who served Him faithfully, and who left a legacy of love and trust in God for their families. These are not grand, headline-making stories, but faithful, everyday lives lived for Christ. And I find myself both encouraged and challenged by them.
It raises a simple but searching question: what kind of legacy are we building, day by day?
Because, in truth, a life of faith isn’t formed in a single moment. It’s shaped in the ordinary rhythms of daily living – in the small choices, the quiet prayers, the habits we return to again and again. It’s formed in how we speak to one another, how we respond when things don’t go our way, how we treat those around us, and how we make space for God in the midst of busy lives – all of which can be lived as an offering to Him.
For those of us raising children or influencing young lives, this is especially important. Faith is often caught as much as it is taught. It is seen in whether we make time for prayer, whether worship is a priority or an afterthought, whether kindness, forgiveness, and generosity are practised at home and not only spoken about on a Sunday. Scripture reminds us that faith is to be woven into the fabric of daily life, spoken about, lived out, and passed on intentionally (Deuteronomy 6:6–7).
This doesn’t require perfection – thankfully. If it did, none of us would stand a chance! It requires intention.
It might look like a simple prayer at the start or end of the day, even if it’s brief and occasionally interrupted. It might be reading a short passage of Scripture together, or talking about where we have noticed God at work in our day. It might be making Sunday worship a non-negotiable part of family life, even when the temptation to stay in bed is strong (and, I agree, it often is!). It might be choosing patience when we would rather choose irritation, or forgiveness when we would rather hold onto being right.
And for those who are further along in life, your role remains just as vital. Your stories, your faithfulness, your perseverance – especially through difficult seasons – speak more powerfully than you may realise. You are helping to shape the faith of the generations that follow, often in ways you may never fully see.
The lives we have recently celebrated and remembered remind us that it is the steady, faithful walk with God that leaves the deepest mark. Not a life without challenges, but a life that, through it all, remained rooted in Him – a life that, in the end, can say it has been lived faithfully.
So, wherever you find yourself – in a season of beginnings, busyness, change, or reflection – there is an invitation before you: to live this day, and the next, with a quiet, intentional dedication to God.
Not perfectly. But faithfully.
And perhaps, years from now, when others gather to give thanks for our lives, the story told will be a simple one: that we loved the Lord, that we served Him in the ordinary moments, and that, in doing so, we helped others to know Him too.
With love,
Your friend and rector
Claire