WE'RE GOING ON A VICAR HUNT, WE'RE GOING TO CATCH A BIG ONE, WE'RE NOT SCARD...

11^th January 2026

Rev Sarah Curl

Or at least, that’s what we say.But if we’re honest, times like this often bring a mixture of excitement and anxiety, hope and uncertainty, all held together at once.

When I moved here to Putney in 2023, I knew no one. I had heard and trusted God’s voice, and I had followed that call, but when I arrived, I was alone. My family were still in Somerset, and here I was, stepping into something completely new.

I remember those early days vividly. Meeting people for the first time. Wanting to make a good impression. Wondering whether I would fit, whether I would get things right. A few days after moving in, I went on what I thought would be an ordinations retreat, a chance to meet other curates and begin this new chapter together. It turned out to be a silent retreat. I don’t think I have ever felt quite so alone. I remember thinking, What have I done?

And then came the weekend when I would finally meet my new church. Would they like me? What if I messed up? Everything had changed from rural Somerset to city life, from the familiar to the unknown. I was in transition: missing home, missing my old church community, grieving what had been left behind, and feeling anxious about what lay ahead.

For me, trusting God and hearing God’s voice has often come easily. But this time, I had to trust others to listen well and make good decisions on my behalf and they chose St Margaret’s, Putney. And although the transition was real and sometimes uncomfortable, it turned out to be a very good choice.

And I think that is something of where we find ourselves now. As Dylan reminds us, the times they are a-changing. And even when we know change is necessary, even when we trust that God is at work, change can still feel unsettling. We don’t really want things to shift; we’d much rather they stayed just as they are.

Transitions are rarely comfortable. An interregnum this “in between” time can leave us wondering what comes next, who will lead, how things might change, and what will remain the same.

And yet, Scripture reminds us that times of transition  and change are often the very moments when God is most deeply at work.

Today’s readings speak directly into this moment.  Isaiah 42, the baptism of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel, and Peter’s words in Acts help us see Jesus Christ as our role model for living faithfully when the future is uncertain.

In Isaiah 42, we hear words first spoken to a people living through profound upheaval. They have lost familiar structures, trusted leaders, and a sense of security. And into that moment, God does not offer a quick solution or a detailed plan. Instead, God points to a servant.

“Here is my servant, whom I uphold,my chosen, in whom my soul delights.”

And notice how this servant leads.

Not with force, but with gentleness.Not by shouting, but by quiet faithfulness.Not by breaking what is weak, but by protecting it.

“A bruised reed he will not break,and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.”

This is God’s chosen way of working when things are fragile. When people feel tender, anxious, or unsure, God’s concern is not speed or control, but care, justice, and steadiness.

For a church in interregnum, this matters deeply. God’s work does not pause because leadership is changing. God’s servant way continues, quietly, faithfully, upheld by God’s own hand. And Isaiah invites us not only to admire this servant, but to model ourselves on His character.

We are then taken to the Jordan River in the Gospel reading.

Jesus has not yet preached or healed. He has not called disciples or built a personal profile. And yet he steps into the water alongside the people. He chooses humility. He chooses solidarity. He chooses obedience.

And the heavens open.

The Spirit descends like a dove, and the voice of God says:

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

This moment is crucial. Jesus is affirmed before his ministry begins. His identity does not depend on what he will achieve, but on who he already is.

That is a powerful word for us in this time of transition. During an interregnum, it is easy to feel unanchored, as though we are waiting to become something again once the next chapter begins. But Jesus shows us that God speaks about identity before direction.

Before the future is clear, God says:“You are my beloved.”“This is who you are.”“I am with you.”

The church’s identity is not on hold. We remain a people loved by God, upheld by the Spirit, even while we wait.

In Acts 10, Peter speaks at yet another moment of transition. The early church is discovering that God is doing something new welcoming Gentiles fully into the life of faith. Old boundaries are shifting. The future feels uncertain.

So what does Peter do?

He tells the story of Jesus.

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power…he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed.”

Peter doesn’t offer a strategy or a policy. He offers a memory. When the church is unsure how to move forward, it looks back to Jesus his compassion, his obedience, his trust in God.

Jesus becomes not only the Saviour they believe in, but they begin to live their lives like Him

Taken together, these readings show us a way through this season:

·       Isaiah shows us the servant way, he is gentle, faithful, just.

·       The baptism of Jesus grounds us in identity and love.

·       Acts reminds us that the church moves forward by continuing the way of Jesus.

So what does this mean for us, here and now, in this interregnum?

It means we resist panic and take a breath.It means we care tenderly for what is fragile among us.It means we remain grounded in prayer and trust.It means we continue to “do good” where we are.And it means we stay open to where the Spirit may be leading next.

Jesus does not rush out of the Jordan with a five-year plan. He goes forward grounded in God’s love, guided by the Spirit, and committed to faithful service. And so are we called to be.

An interregnum is not an empty space. It is not wasted time. It is a holy. It is a Jordan River moment, a place where God reminds us who we are, where the Spirit still moves, and where the voice of God still speaks.

So let us model ourselves on the servant of Isaiah: gentle and kind, patient and faithful. Let us trust one another, pray for one another, and speak gently to and about one another—not in frustration or fear, but in love. Let us uphold one another.

And let us continue to be all that St Margaret’s already is, a place of hospitality and warmth, of welcome and acceptance. A place people go out from to serve the Lord, to care for those who are lonely or afraid, to work steadily, to show compassion, to look for and include those on the margins.

St Margaret’s is a place where gifts are shared generously, through baking and cooking, music and teaching, administration and care; where week by week people give their time and energy to fix, mend, tidy, beautify, and sustain this community.

Because a church is not one person. This church is you and me. And we are not adrift. We are firmly anchored. We have the map. We know the way, because we walk it in the footsteps of Christ.

Perhaps this is where that phrase we began with comes back to us:

We’re going on a vicar hunt. We’re going to catch a big one. We’re not scared.

In this popular story, written by Michael Rosen the children don’t know what lies ahead. They can’t go over the grass, or under the river, or around the mud, they have to go through it. Together. Step by step. Trusting that they are not alone.

That is something like where we are now. We cannot skip this season or rush past it. We have to walk through it, prayerfully, gently, faithfully, holding one another as we go.

And just like in the story, what carries them forward is companionship. They go together. They face what comes together. And they come through changed, but safe.

So as we continue this journey, this vicar hunt, this time in between, let us not be driven by fear, but by faith. Let us model ourselves on the servant of Isaiah: gentle and kind, patient and steadfast. Let us trust that God goes before us, walks beside us, and upholds us along the way.

We’re going on a vicar hunt, not alone, not unprepared, not abandoned, but loved, upheld, and guided by God.

Amen