Speak son of man, speak to the bones.

Do we dare open our mouths? What good are words in the desert? What good are words to dry bones?

If we spoke, what would we say? Would any words come? Would they be the right words?

I spent the last couple of days at a church conference in Cardiff. It was to explore the issues around encouraging more people, and especially younger people to offer themselves for the ordained ministry. I guess I was there representing the young, trendy clergy.

What I didn't know until I arrived was that I was one of the speakers. I had been asked before I went to be prepared to say a few words about my ministry – I thought everyone was doing the same. But when the conference program was handed out, I found that session 2 was an hour and a half, and theer were three speakers for this time. I was number three.

Speak Son of Man. But what could I say. Panic set in, but I scribbled some notes down.

The first session featured some of the keen young students of the college – soon to be ordained. Speaking of their hopes and aspirations for ministry, the paths that brought them there and everything they hoped to achieve. Ahh bless them I thought, they'll learn. And curse them too because they just said everything I had intended to say.

Session 2 began and the first speaker had come prepared. As an ex-roadie with a rock band he had brought his guitar and a song he had written and he stood in the middle of the room and rocked out his passion for Jesus and ministry.

How I hated him. How was I going to follow that? Do a little dance maybe?

The session went on and soon it was my turn. The bishop introduced me. All eyes turned to me. Thirtyodd clergy, our Bishop Gregory chairing, senior colleagues from throughout the church in wales.

Speak son of Man.

During the break between sessions I had been talking to the Principal of the College who had commented that the conference looked like it was going to be going far too smoothly, it needed stirring up a bit.

Speak son of man. I dare you.

Deep breathe, open your mouth, and kiss your career goodbye. Speak son of man, speak to the bones. Right. Here goes.

The next few minutes are something of a blur, but I think they went something like this.

I'm supposed to be talking about my Passion, my excitement for the ministry of the church. Well I don't have any.

At this the conference organisers eyes were widening and her jaw tightening. I don't have any because the church is dying. We heard from the ordinands in training earlier and I wanted to ask them a question – but thought it would be unfair. I'm going to ask it now anyway. How do you feel about spending the rest of your life giving palliative care to a dying institution? You may say its not dying – I won't let it. But is that a fair expectation for the church to have of you, is it a fair expectation for you to have of yourself? What will the weight of that do to you in your ministry? Here I come to save the day – here I come to save the church. Is this the vision we want to sell to young people considering ordination? Is that the reality.

I sensed at this point I might be losing the audience a little so thought I should try to reach for the point.

I continued by telling them I went on a conference like this a while ago in the diocese and one suggestion enthusiastically embraced there was the need to make the ministry sexy. Sexy clergy is what we need, and we should send the sexy clergy into schools and colleges and universities inspiring the young people to come and join the sexy ministry. I was suggested as one of the sexy clergy, although I might need a new haircut. They laughed at that bit – not sure if that's a good thing or not.

But I felt I was onto something. I decided to plunge on. Speak son of man, speak to those bones.

Jesus didn't make his calling sexy. He said come to me and die. Weep with me in Gethsemane and take up your cross. Lie in the tomb with me. Only then will resurrection come. Supposedly doubting thomas knows this in the gospel – let us go he says so that we may die with him.

The church is dying, but why, if we worship a God dead on a cross, are we so frightened of that death, so keen to fight against it? To prop up the dry bones of an institution rather than seek the knew life of the kingdom in a new form. I'm not saying that it won't be painful, I'm not saying we won't grieve – I love the traditional form of the church, it has nurtured my faith, I don't want to outlive it, but I believe I will.

But we have to rid our selves of the idea that we need sexy, successful clergy who are going to have sexy successful ministries and save the church in its present form. Somehow I managed to illustrate this with the story about how my trousers fell of one day while I was at the altar celebrating the Eucharist – I'm not sure this was the best plan with the bishop sitting there, but its funny what comes out when you open your mouth.

But my point I think was that the church doesn't need sexy and successful. It needs human, it needs vulnerable, it needs flawed, it needs fools. Sexy and successful doesn't mean much in the valley of the dry bones. It doesn't mean much at the grave of your friend either. If anyone could do sexy and successful at that moment, it would have been Jesus. But he doesn't. Resurrection comes in the story, but tears come first – a simple, honest human response. A response from the heart. Before the Son of Man speaks to those bones, his tears speak for him. Jesus wept. The shortest verse in the bible maybe the most significant.

What was I trying to say to that conference, I'm not sure – I tried to say that resurrection comes and fills us with hope and excitement but that it only does so after the cross and the tomb and not instead of them. That as each of us walks that road, so the institutional church is facing the same journey. Much as I trust that God will build his church, he will do it his way, cross as well as empty tomb, lent as well as Easter. So when we talk about passion for ministry, we need to let the Easter meaning of the word passion – the passion of Christ on the cross, colour what we mean by the term, rather than thinking its all about enthusiasm and excitement. Being a Christian is not always meant to be attractive. It isn't meant to be sexy.

I suppose what I wanted to say was that the church, lay and ordained together is called to be like Jesus – daring to speak words of hope, words of resurrection. But not thinking that those words replace the tears, or are more important than them.

Before you can speak to the bones, you have to walk in the valley of the shadow of death with them. But when you get there, there comes the point when you have to dare to speak – speak son of man, speak to the bones.

You may not have the right words. And sometimes you just open your mouth and wait to see what comes out. Give it a try, you might surprise yourself. And you might surprise your Bishop too.