I come clean. I am Messy. I like Messy Church. I can create disorder and chaos in the tidy and neat without too much problem.

I have been involved in Messy Church for about 10 years, in rural Cumbria, urban Brum and coastal Wales; although in Cumbria we called it something else. In some ways, Messy Church is the highlight of my month. I love the creativity; where else can you make volcanos, kites, drop eggs in parachutes, make banners, sing worship songs, hear stories from the Bible and life, and share food? Those ingredients should be hallmarks of every Church, not ones that I have the messy splat next to its name.

Where else can those who find issues of faith and belief difficult sit alongside the deeply committed; and share stories of every day life? It has been messy to work out theology on the go, although I think sometimes that is how the best theology is done. Presiding at communion with children and adults many of whom were probably not baptised raises interesting questions concerning belief and membership, which in actual fact are mirrored in different ways within traditional congregations.

What I do know is this!

Members of Messy Church keep in touch with each other with relative ease. Members of Messy Church root for and pray for each other, share food and hospitality between events.

It is not the answer to everything. But there are people attending Messy Church now who would never have darkened the door of any traditional Christian gathering. That has to be good news.