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Good Morning. As the government announced sweeping relaxations to lockdown rules, you could sense a wave of relief – from the Prime Minister who at last had, what sounded like, some good news to announce; and a people picturing themselves simultaneously getting haircuts whilst drinking beer in pubs. It comes with caveats of course. A reminder of the risks, and an urging to apply that nebulous commodity, Common Sense. There is even, according to some, a special strain of common sense known as Good Old British Common Sense, which will give us an advantage as we negotiate our re-emergence. The idea of Common Sense (of any nationality) makes me nervous. Firstly, it makes me wonder if I have enough of it. Even as a family with a fair distribution of the stuff, we are struggling to reach a consensus as to what to do with our almost-freedoms; where to go, who to see, who not to see. We all have different attitudes to risk. To ourselves and to others. We even have slightly different views on the science. Sense has no commonality in this house. My deeper reservation about the term is not whether it is something I need more of, but whether it is something I should be seeking in the first place. Sometimes defined as "sound judgment derived from experience," a quick glance at the world shows that this common sense is not as common as some would like. And that our experiences don’t necessarily make us wiser. The phrase evokes images of down to earth, reasonable and practical people - but what of the unreasonable, impractical people, the ones accused of lacking common sense but who find uncommon ways of doing things? The scientist who can’t tie their laces but who may discover the cure for a pandemic. The sportsman who takes the knee and stops the world. The prophet who risks telling us to see things a different way. And transforms our lives. ‘Love your enemies. Turn the other cheek. ‘Take no thought for your life. Do not be anxious about tomorrow.’ Common Sense would suggest that that most of what Jesus says here is ridiculous. I can even hear it telling me: ‘Don’t be a fool. You should be worried about tomorrow. Everyone should be!’ It’s why I believe we need something more than common sense to guide us into this new moment. We need to take risks. Not ones that puts ourselves or others in danger, or increases anxiety; but risks of faith. For faith is risk and, if you like, Wisdom is faith’s common sense. When Jesus says ‘Do no be anxious about tomorrow,’ it is not an irresponsible, fatalistic ‘whatever will be will be,’ it’s a challenge of trust. For me, a trust that’s rooted in a God of love who has already risked all for us.