Justin Duckworth

No-one wanted this season. On the Wednesday before Covid-19 alert level 4, we moved house. We had had only a few days to find a new place to live in Castlecliff, Whanganui, and then 24 hours to pack up and move before the country shut down. It was no picnic. Like everyone else, I had the unwanted scenario of the sudden removal of choice.

Of course, my situation didn’t suck as much as other people’s experience in this time. In the end, we moved into a house with an awesome young family. Our jobs weren’t under threat. We weren’t required to work when we felt unsafe. Our children came to join us and we were able to witness their lockdown haircut mistakes. We didn’t have to navigate the despair of grief. We had it easy.

But like everyone else, we had no escape. The discomfort of lockdown identified our dysfunction and addiction – to busyness, control, selfsufficiency, and the myth that we are the master of our own destinies. Now that we had no escape, our choices were either to pretend and get through, or to look this season in the eye and ask Jesus to help us learn from our new reality.

From the first evening in our new house, we became more real with one another. We became attuned to our surroundings in a way that we would not have been otherwise. We had met our neighbours, checked in on each other’s needs and began a commitment to stay in touch. In lockdown, life was stripped back to the bare essentials – we cooked more meals, partied more, prayed more, forgot how to drive, spent more time outdoors, and met more neighbours.

As Bishop of Wellington, I’ve been frequently asked over this season how the church has fared. In the wider movement of Anglican churches across the lower North Island that I lead with Bishop Ellie Sanderson, I believe we have

We have had the most fruitful and creative season I have experienced in my time as Bishop.