I don’t know if you have ever had a vision or a dream that seems so real, you have no choice to believe it. Or a moment of realisation and clarity so sharp it alters your direction. Sometimes it seems as though we see such events in the Bible as belonging to the history books. We admire them, we are awed by them, but we don’t really think God still speaks in that way. It’s almost as though we think God closed His mouth when the Bible closed its pages. But the testimony of Scripture and the reality of the global Church tell a different story: God is not silent. God still speaks in dreams. He still interrupts us with visions. He still disrupts our neatly planned lives because He is still in the business of calling ordinary people into extraordinary vocations. Our readings today deal with two people who experienced such things. We have Peter and Paul, two men who are diametrically different from each other.

Peter, Sion Peter, was a fisherman. He was not a scholar He knew what he was doing in his boat. He was a Jew. We know he was practical, impulsive, stubborn, and deeply rooted in his tradition. We know he had a temper. He denied Christ three times. We know God called this uneducated, impulsive person to be one of the founders of his church. We know Peter saw dreams and visions – and that through those dreams, Peter’s mind moved out of his stubborn one direction into a more inclusive direction. And without Peter’s willingness to listen, we would not have the church we have today. Without his vision, the church would still be focused on the Jewish people. Sometimes, God uses dreams and visions because our waking prejudices and habits are too strong. God uses the night seasons to dismantle our walls. He shows things we might have never imagine and says “This is where I am calling you.”

Paul, Saul of Tarsus, was an academic. He was highly educated, politically connected, and religiously zealous. When we first encounter him, he is seeking to actively destroy the Church. Paul doesn’t get a gentle dream; he gets a violent, blinding heavenly vision. A light flashes, he hits the dirt, and a voice asks, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” Bam. Paul’s eyes are opened to the truth of the Gospel, and his life changes. God used his passion and his citizenship. The very man who used logic and law to hunt Christians would now use logic and law to build churches across the Roman Empire.

In 1996 I was a very young and very new researcher at Salford University,working with a multidisciplinary team, shared between the Departments of Radiography and the Department of Social Work. In fact, my boss then is here today. It was in some ways, my dream job. I loved being able to analyse and compile, to dive deeply into a subject. I liked the people I was working with. I was attending a Vineyard church, full of people my age. I was involved in street ministry, in the prayer team there. I was content. And then one day in May 1996 – the 10th May, to be precise – I was walking down the street towards a local park. Chatting to God as I tend to do. And I got a very clear picture in my mind. A picture of me dressed in cassock and surplice with a dog-collar on. I knew, knew deep inside, that God wanted me to be ordained in the Church in Wales. There were several problems with this. I wasn’t then a member of the Church in Wales, and didn’t really want to become a member – I like my current church. I wasn’t entirely sure about whether I believed in a separate priesthood. Women were not yet being ordained in Wales. I liked my current job, and, in my head, I had my life mapped out. A PhD, perhaps going on to work for a relief and rescue organisation, travel the world, etc. Giving all that up was not in the game plan. I asked some people their thoughts, asked them to prayer. Got a ‘yes’ that sounds right, despite my own reservations, dealt with the objections from some family members – not my parents, let me say! – and found myself by the end of September back in north Wales about to start a Divinity degree, looking for a suitable church to attend and thinking – what am I doing? What on earth is God doing?. And 30 years on from that, I still sometimes think – what am I doing? What on earth is God doing?

God does not require you to become someone else to serve Him. He takes your exact personality, your education, and your unique wiring, and He redirects them towards what he needs at this time and place. Peter had the mud of the Sea of Galilee under his fingernails. Paul had the ink of the Torah scrolls on his fingers. Peter was relatable, local, and relational. Paul was structured, global, and strategic. Both would be unlikely to get through a selection board today. Peter wouldn’t have had enough eduction. Paul would have had a toxic past – can you imagine the Facebook posts? God does not call the qualified; He qualifies the called. He looked at Peter’s fierce loyalty and said, “I will use that to anchor my Church.” He looked at Paul’s relentless drive and said, “I will use that to break new ground.” Neither of them were priests. Were they pastors? Worship leaders? Evangelists?

I am not a Paul or a Peter. Yet I was, and am, called to serve God. All priests are first ordained deacons, ordained to a life of service of God’s people – for even when ordained priest, we still remain deacons. And we forget that at our peril.

God calls all people, regardless of background. “Vocation” or “Ministry” does not mean only people who were a dog-collar. We are not called to turn up, sit in a pew, drop some money in a plate, and try to be nice.

That is not the Gospel. Every single person who believes in God has a commission, a calling. That calling may shift and change over time. But it still exists. Your workplace is your mission field. Your classroom is your parish. Your kitchen table is your altar. Your unique skill-set—whether you are a plumber, a programmer, retired, a stay-at-home parent, an artist, or a nurse—is the tool God wants to use to bring about his kingdom on earth.

God is still speaking today. He speaks through the quiet stirrings of your heart. He speaks through vivid dreams that you can’t shake off. He speaks through sudden, burning visions of a need in your community that breaks your heart. He is trying to get your attention. He wants to take your unique background—your victories, your skills, and even your past mistakes—and weaponise them for love, justice, and the spread of the Gospel. Are you listening? Or are you drowning out His voice with busyness, entertainment, and fear?

This week, I challenge you to pray a dangerous prayer before you close your eyes at night: “Lord, speak to me. Discard my comfort. Redirect my skills. Show me my calling, and give me the courage to wake up and run toward it.” Amen.

• Vittoria Hancock June 28th, 2026

I am aware that many members will already have responded to the various appeals that have been recently launched to help those affected by the disastrous war in Ukraine. Nevertheless, it is felt that as a Church we need to show our concern and pain in some way. As I announced in the church a couple of weeks ago, on Pentecost Sunday, 5 June, we will hold a special service at which a collection for Ukraine will be taken. As always donations will be gratefully received at any time from those unable to attend on 5 June.

Christmas Carol in Lockerbie Lots of singing

A visit of children from primary 3 Lockerbie Primary School, was a great success. They spent some time adding prayers to the Christmas tree.

Netta Leigh was the pen name of Hannah Whittemore who mainly wrote poetry and novels aimed at young children which were published in a children’s magazine edited by her brother the Revd William Meynell  Whittemore. The monthly magazines ran from around 1862 into the 1900s. The poem may not be brilliant writing but conveys well the thoughts of a sixty year old writer comparing her childhood in the 1830s to that of around 1870. Revd Whittemore was forward thinking in terms of content of the magazine and promoting it, which included a children’s council of readers who gave answers to letters written in asking for advice. His church held a monthly children’s service.

I had a Victorian upbringing! In the text, a velvet (the material in this example) spencer is a long sleeved bolero style short jacket made popular in the early part of the 19^th Century, while Battledore evolved into the game of Badminton in the early 1870s.

THE LITTLE GIRL OF SIXTY YEARS AGO.
BY AN OLD LADY.

WHEN I was quite a little girl,
            Full sixty years ago,
My hair was brown and used to curl;
            Now it is white as snow.
I wore such short and scanty frocks,
            Like evening dress made low;
Black sandall’d shoes, and nice white socks,
            With sash, tied in a bow.
 
Then I, for out-of-door attire,
            A velvet spencer had;
With cottage straw, made firm with wire,
            And trimm’d, perhaps, with plaid.
A cloth pelisse for winter-time,
            With braid sewn neatly on it;
While feathers, from a distant clime,
            Adorn’d my beaver bonnet.
 
I was not self-assured and free,
            As maidens are to-day;
Unless our guests first spoke to me,
            I but few words might say;
While in the room I must not stir,
            Nor laugh nor seem at ease:
I answer’d modestly, “No, Sir,”
            Or, “Yes, Ma’am, if you please!”
 
And yet I was a happy child,
            All full of mirth and fun;
I romp’d about as one half wild,
            When stated tasks were done.
With shuttlecock and battledore,
            With hoop, and blind man’s buff,
With hunt the slipper-and some more,-
            Of games we had enough.
 
And when we to a party went,
            A children’s one, I mean;
In such like play our time was spent,-
            Each happy as a Queen!
We never dreamt of dance or ball,
            Like grown-up people, then;
Pure, simple pastimes pleased us all,
            And we were home by ten.
 
In clear sweet voice I often sang,
            And made a merry noise;
But never talk d the vulgar slang
            Girls use as well as boys.
When in the streets I did not stare
            At every passer-by,
But walk’d along with quiet air,
            Sedate, and rather shy.
 
I had not half as many books
            As modern children share;
And antiquated were their looks,-
            But, oh, how prized they were!
I read them through and through: and when
            You would have deemed them old,
I read them twenty times again,
            And thought their worth untold.
 
I love to muse upon the past,
            And yet I sometimes sigh
As memory’s pensive glance is cast
            Upon the days gone by.
Young Ladies often shake my hand,
            Or nod, with careless bow,
But LITTLE GIRLS, I understand,
            Are rarely met with now!
NETTA LEIGH

 Paul         

There were 36 people at the service, 24 from Lockerbie and 12 from Moffat. Four did not stay for lunch and one came later so we fed 33; we enjoyed soups, rolls, Abida’s delicious Buttered Chicken with noodles which was a long labour of love, then sweet treats or apples and cuppas.It was a very meaningful and comprehensive service led by Rev. Paul, encompassing awareness of many different harvests. Followed by a warm and happy opportunity for sharing.