By Sheila Maxey and Jenny Mayo

A number of years ago, with the support of the minister and elders of Brentwood URC, two of us started a twice-monthly time of prayer called ‘Sacred Space’. During its long gestation period, certain features which would characterise this prayer time emerged:

• its length would be clearly defined; 45 minutes
• it would mostly be silent, with quiet Taizé music for half the time and complete silence for the rest
• the opening and closing liturgies would be brief, not in traditional language and always the same, apart from the Gospel reading (with perhaps a brief reflection) and the Psalm for the coming Sunday
• there would be various prayer stations around the church so that we could physically move from thanksgiving to confession, to intercession etc.
• there would be no refreshments or discussion.

Things progressed from there...

We are very fortunate in our church building. It is a nineteenth-century chapel with the present beautiful worship area upstairs in what used to be the gallery, with the middle filled-in. The result is a saucer-shaped space, with the old pews along the sides and chairs in the centre of the lower space.

Our thanksgiving station centred on the pulpit. A long, white Sudanese cloth covered the pulpit and blue-tacked on, in bold letters, were various texts, such as ‘The heavens are telling the glory of God’, and ‘Bless the Lord, my soul, and all that is within me bless God’s holy name’. A table stood in front with an empty vase and tea lights burning at each side. On the floor, to one side, was a vase with single flowers, usually roses. We were invited to stand there in silent thanksgiving and then to express our gratitude by putting a flower in the vase.

The confession (or laying down of burdens) station was up a couple of steps towards the back. Another table stood there, with a blue cloth, two big candles in blue glass holders and a bowl of water (actually the bowl from the baptismal font). There were chairs there, and on the floor a dish of stones, and two texts, ‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you: I have called you by name: you are mine’ and ‘For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving, abounding in steadfast love to all who call on you.’ There we were invited to hold a stone for a while and then release it into the water, letting go our burdens, accepting God’s forgiveness.

The intercession station was over at one side where a pew was draped with a middle-ages type hunger cloth depicting a black crucified Christ and many figures around showing Biblical stories expressed in modern events. There was a flat dish of sand with a thick candle burning in the middle, and texts on either side such as ‘Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep’ and ‘God so loved the world…’ There was a basket of thin candles and we were invited to light one and stick it into the sand. There were several chairs placed there.

A rather special station emerged when we noticed that the lobby to the lift created a little side-chapel for one. There, we placed one chair and a small table with a candle and a copy of Jean Parker’s sculpture The Enfolding. There was only one text there, ‘For I am convinced that neither death nor life… will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.’

We experimented with a new station in the lantern window area which protrudes at one end of the church. The plaque for the re-dedication of the building in 1982 is there and reads ‘To the glory of God this house was rebuilt that His light may shine out on this town.’ We put a chair covered in a gold cloth below the plaque, with a large candle and three texts, ‘the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it’, ‘Jesus said: I am the light of the world’ and ‘Jesus said: You are the light of the world’.

The two of us spent 30–45 minutes setting up and 30 minutes dismantling, but we both found that part of our ‘sacred space’. Once the small group of regulars arrived, we could move from one station to another without any sense of interrupting each other and so can relax into the silence. Only the person who had to keep an eye on the time for putting off the music and then putting it on again to signal it is time for the closing liturgy could not completely relax. One regular attender came from a hectic teaching job and busy family life who said that her heart beat slowed down as she moved deeply into prayer in these sessions.

The flowers of thanksgiving were then left to be incorporated into the Sunday flowers, as all our prayers form part of the life of this local church.

From 2008, Jenny and I continued to set up Sacred Space fortnightly on a Thursday evening for a year or two. The numbers remained small, with perhaps three or four regulars. We began to think that morning might attract early shoppers, so we simplified it and moved it to Thursday mornings at 9.30am twice a month.

The simple liturgy remained the same: the gospel for the coming Sunday was read before 20 minutes of silence and the psalm for the coming Sunday became part of the brief closing liturgy. We sat in a little semi-circle facing the communion table on which hung the hunger cloth we had used from the beginning. In front we placed a flat dish full of sand with a candle burning in the centre. If we felt so moved, we could light a small candle and stand it in the dish. Taize music greeted us and was played again to indicate the end of the silence.

We lost one or two people who had come very occasionally because they were not available during the day. We gained nobody and we found it hard to remember on which Thursdays we were meeting. Jenny was now helping with the Wednesday lunch club so it seemed a good idea to move to Wednesdays when she would be at the church anyway.

Then, we took a deep breath and decided to commit to every Wednesday for 30 minutes starting at 9.30am. For two or three years we were almost never more than four and, because of holidays and illness and child-minding, we were quite often less. Nevertheless, the regularity was really helpful and Jenny and I were happy to go the church and spend the time alone if necessary.

Then, a year ago, a woman saw the small notice on the church board in the foyer and decided it was just what she was looking for. Now she is a regular and after coming to Sacred Space for about 6 months she decided to start worshipping with us on Sundays. When neither Jenny nor I can be there, she is perfectly happy to set up and spend the 30 minutes alone or with anyone who turns up. A few months ago an elderly man wandered into the church, saw the notice, and started coming every week.   Our new minister, although he lives 12 miles away and has three churches, is also a regular. So now we are seven.

Although now, in 2018, I sometimes find myself looking back rather wistfully at the exciting beginning of Sacred Space all those years ago, perhaps the simple, regular form we have now is both more sustainable and spiritually sustaining.

Is there a small but significant act or event of prayer like this which your church community could offer? Is there something you are already doing which could be simplified or altered to meet the changing needs of your community?