“You’ve not changed a bit,” they said. They were church folk from Cockermouth, UK where I’d been presbyter before emigrating in 2006. I was there on holiday visiting my son’s family and meeting our first grandchild. I met many of the church folk from those days and stayed with two of them. It was good to see them all.

“You’ve not changed a bit,” some said. Sweet of them, but in 17 years I am older and greyer, if not wiser. I recognised them, though it took a few seconds to remember names and greet them personally. There were many I did not recognise (those new to the area) and many I did not see (who had either died or moved away). Nothing unusual there.

I enjoyed exploring the town with its familiar streets, and some unfamiliar shops; some things remained constant, others changed quite radically. Of the whole parish - seven churches in 2006 - two church buildings have been extensively remodelled, and two others have closed (their sale presumably helped the remodelling).

Nice story – but what is the point?

Well, it reminded me of the tension between wanting to hold on to the past and recognising a different future beckons. It was a strange feeling of familiarity and unfamiliarity. The old was comforting and a gentle reminder of my ministry there, the new was somewhat unsettling. Even the familiar was different, both people and places.

Too easily as churches we want to hold on to a familiar past, even though time brings changes. Too easily, like Mary Magdalene when she first met the risen Christ on the first Easter Sunday, we want to hold on. Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me… but go…” (John 20:17). She wanted to cling on to a familiar Jesus but he had changed and she needed to realise this. What does Jesus say to us in our turn, where are we meant to “go”?

Does Jesus say to us, “Do not hold on to the past, however wonderful or comforting it might be, simply because it is the past and it has gone”? Does he mean our memories, experiences and life-long wisdom are useless? No, they have great value but he calls us to move on, to step into the future, not hide from it and wish it would go away.

As a presbyter I too have changed. My understanding of God, attitudes and ways of working have all slowly altered. My face might not have changed much but my inner life has slowly transformed. I hope and pray that the transformation is towards the likeness of Christ, to which we are all called but I will leave others to be the judge of this.

“You’ve not changed a bit,” they said. My reply should have been, “But I know I have and I believe for the better.” Over the years I hope each parish and each person in our church can say the same.