Faith, Music, and the Holy Knitting Spirit

Faith, Music, and the Holy Knitting Spirit

So now I am gearing up for church camp, which starts later in the week.

Two hours of worship music a day? Absolutely. Loud singing, full harmonies, someone clapping off-beat, and a marquee that smells faintly of damp hymnals — what’s not to love? I’ll be helping out, of course, because how could I not? If there’s a rota, I’ll end up on it.

I always pack my knitting, thinking I’ll get loads done. I don’t. But I bring it anyway — not because I meet Jesus in the stitches (I don’t), but because it gives my hands something to do while I’m trying to pay attention. Especially during sermons. Knitting helps me focus, keeps me present. Anchors me when my mind wants to float off and reorganise the spice rack.

There’s a kind of peace in the rhythm. Not grand revelations — just quiet steadiness. Breath. Space. That tiny pause where you realise, “Oh. I’m here. I’m okay.”

Creativity does that. It gives you room. Not always tidy, not always easy, but real. Whether it’s a few rows before bed or a messy stash dive on a Tuesday afternoon, it makes space for you to just be.

And when the world feels like a tangle of noise and schedules and forgotten packed lunches, I’ve got a playlist I use to ground myself. Nothing fancy. Just songs that remind me who I am.

So this next week, I’ll be singing loudly, probably losing my voice, and almost certainly doing more than I meant to. But I’ll also be knitting a little, breathing deeply, and trying to keep hold of that peace I find in the rhythm.

No big message. No call to action.

Just this: may you find a quiet moment in the middle of your noise, and may it be enough.

Nessa