Grateful

Mum died yesterday at 2pm. It was quick. That’s what the doctor said. We are grateful, me my brother and my sister. Grateful to the hospital who looked after her and us really well. Grateful to the chaplain read to her from Revelation 22 moments before she died. Grateful that one of us, my sister, was with her when she died. I arrived ten minutes after. I was on my way to take the next shift of sitting at her bedside. My brother came as soon as he knew to come. Grateful that her dying wasn’t long and drawn out. Grateful that we all, together, and on our own got to say what we wanted to say before she died. Grateful to mum for the way she did her very best to live as a follower of Christ. Grateful for everything she taught us about the God she loved so very dearly. Mum wasn’t perfect. We knew that. She knew that. As you do when someone dies, we spent the evening talking together about some of the things we remembered about her. She had some funny ways. No really she did. But she did well. Really well. Life threw some curve balls to mum. Perhaps the biggest and the one that had the most far reaching consequences was the death, as 35, of her husband, my dad. But get this. My dad died 50 years ago yesterday.. Mum died 50 years to the day that dad did. Obviously she wasn’t conscious towards the end of her life, but she knew what the date was. We knew what the date was. Actually we were praying that she would die on 1st July. And she did. And we are grateful. Some people get very excited about God’s timing. And maybe the fact that mum died on 1st July was God’s timing. Maybe. If it’s true it raises some big questions about God’s timing. Not least why dad died so young leaving a young wife and family. If God can orchestrate calling mum to be with him on the day he called her husband, albeit 50 years later, then there some other things he really should have addressed in the world. I’m not really sure about it even though for us, today, it’s a comforting thought. I think I struggle with it because it does seem at times God (if I may be so bold) gets the timing wrong. There that’s upset some if you. Well, you can come to your onw conclusion. I think God’s better than being limited to this kind of thinking. And let’s be honest, the world if unfair, painful and sometimes cruel. But we’re still grateful that mum trusted in God regardless of the timing. She wanted to go home. And now she is. And for that, in all it’s stunning beauty and wonder, we are grateful.

Sieve

I had one of those moments the other day. I was listening to the radio while I was driving somewhere and someone (can’t even remember who it was or what they were talking about), said something that struck me in a way it had never done before. If fact, it completely changed they way I understood and thought about what had been a familiar phrase. It was a familiar phrase that I understood in a particular way. And, my best guess would be, you would understand the phrase, which you have heard many time before, in the same way I did. It’s not that understanding it the way I had was wrong. It wasn't . In fact, the way I understood it was the way it was always meant to be understood. So let me ask you this question: if you want to tell someone they have a poor memory, what phrase would you use to do so? If I was a betting man, I would put money on your answer being this: you’ve got a memory like a sieve! Am I right? I think so. And we understand why, don’t we? If you have a sieve, you pour something in which contains the things you really want. The idea is that what you don’t want drains out, and what you want to keep is left in the sieve. The reason we use it to describe our memory, is that all the fluid falls through the holes and is lost. So, when we say someone has a memory like a sieve, it’s a way of saying that they forget lots of things. It usually means that what we want them to remember is what they forget. Bottom line is this: when someone says you have a memory like a sieve it’s not a compliment. But here’s what I leant the other day. And, I’m not sure this was anything that was said on the radio, but it grew on me as I thought about it. I would actually like a memory like a sieve! What?…I hear you cry. Are you being serious? Yes. Yes I am. And here’s why. A sieve, whilst it does allow what you don’t want to drain away, it also keeps what is important. Think about it. If you are cooking peas what do you do? Your pour the boiling water containing the peas into the sieve. The idea, what you want to happen, is that the water (which you don’t want to keep), drains w away, and the peas (what you do want to keep) is caught in the sieve. So a sieve keeps what you want and lets go of what you don’t want. I would love a memory like that. I would love a memory that keeps what I want to remember, and lets go of what I don’t need to remember! And, reflecting on that, I would like to live like a sieve: I would like to keep what’s important, and let go of what’s not. It’s often said that when a crisis comes, you learn what’s important. The sad truth is that it often really does often take a crisis to get us to see what is important. We would do well to be more like a sieve. As I’ve stood at the bedside of my mum over the last week, it has caused me to reflect on life. It’s caused me to think of how we have lived as a family. I’ve been reminded that life really is fragile. I’ve been reminded that you can put off things that are important for things that, in truth, really aren’t. I’m wondering now how life might have been different if I had been more like a sieve, if I had been able to keep what’s important and let go of what’s not. And in all this, I’ve been thinking about a little verse in that not so well known book of Ecclesiastes. It says it is good to reflect on the truth that one day, we will die. It’s verse two of chapter seven. I like to say it this way: every dies and wise people think about that. I’m wondering that if we did that, we would be more like a sieve: we’d keep what’s really important and let go of what’s not. So, the next time someone likens me to a sieve, I’ll take it as a compliment!

What a difference a day makes

Unless you’re not listening to, or watching the news, you can’t have missed it. Everybody is talking about. Some people have been waiting for it for 30 years. Some people simply didn’t want to happen. And, to be honest, most people don’t really care. But you can’t have missed it. Yesterday, it hadn’t happened. But today everyone is talking about it. Liverpool are Premier League Champions! What a difference a day makes. Tuesday was a day that made a difference. On Tuesday Boris announced that weddings could again take place. Suddenly, from having no idea when the wedding could take place, plans could be made, excitement began to rise, and preparations swung into gear. What a difference a day makes. On Wednesday, I received a call from my sister. She had been to visit my mum in hospital. The news was good. Mum was doing much better than the day before and the doctor told my sister that my mum was going in the right direction. We were even told mum might come home today, Friday. Surprised as we were, it appeared that mum was on the mend. We were having to turn our thoughts to figuring out how to manage mum being at home again. Then, yesterday, while I was in East Surrey hospital in my role as Chaplain, my sister sent an urgent message to me and my brother. Mum had taken a turn for the worse and suddenly we were faced with the probability she might not live more than a couple of days. What a difference a day makes. But, we have hope. And so does mum. On a hill a couple of thousand years ago, a man hung on a crude wooden cross. It seemed that everything he’d said and promised and talked about how come to an end. Hs friends ran off and hid, too scared to show their faces. His followers dispersed, disappointed that, once again the messiah tuned out not to be. But, on Sunday morning, his tomb was empty and he appeared to his friends. It turned out he was alive. What a difference a day makes! And what a difference that days makes today. The world is unpredictable, random and sometimes cruel. It doesn’t always go as we would wish. It mostly doesn’t go as we would wish. We don’t what is around the corner. But we do know that one day our body will give out. It will stop working. One day we will die. As followers of Christ, we also know that, when that day comes, that Sunday morning of a couple of thousand years ago is what makes the difference. It will make a difference to my mum, who has been waiting for this moment for most of her long life. And it will make a difference to me, my brother and my sister. What a difference a day makes.

Perfect

So actually writing this blog has proved what I’m writing about. This is my third attempt. The first two got lost somewhere I couldn’t get them back. Not how I planned it. Anyway. Yesterday was the perfect day. Well it was for me. Probably. Or as near as it gets. One thing I’ve never understood is how one sport can have a handicap system when others do not. Apart from horse racing that is. But only one sport where humans compete against humans. It’s always struck me as a little odd that you can play a game and be the best player, but not win precisely because you are the best player. When I was younger I used to play a lot of tennis. And when I played a match against someone else, the best payer on the day, won. There was no handicap system because one of us was better at tennis then the other. But in golf, there’s a handicap system. Which, to be fair, is really good news for people like me, because I am not the best player. But I can still win. And yesterday, I played much better than my handicap said I should. That’s as good as it gets. For me. Yesterday, we were told we can have weddings again from the 4th July. Only a week late Boris! But thank you! It’ll be like my golf: it won’t be perfect, but it will certainly be good enough! It’s taken me a long time to realise that nothing is perfect. I’m learning to take the good rounds of golf and enjoy them. They don’t happen all the time, and I’ll never play the perfect round. But they can good enough. We spend years sometime planning the perfect wedding. We did. Well, certainly eighteen months. And yet…But now we can have a wedding. It won’t be the wedding we planned. We won’t have everyone we want there. We won’t be able to sing. We won’t be able to have everything we wanted in the service. But there will be a wedding. And the bridegroom will look on his bride with great love. And Meg and Justin will be married! It’s taken me a long time to realise that nothing’s perfect. Good enough, and sometime great. But not perfect. I would do well to enjoy my better than good rounds of golf, because next time it might be different. I would do well to enjoy good enough. We can plan and hope and spend our lives striving for perfect. But here’s the thing: mostly we’ll be disappointed. Especially if that’s what we build our lives on. And God never asks us to be perfect. To give my best, to try my best, to live my best, yes. But not perfect. As we walked around the golf course, we discussed if we would play the perfect round of golf in heaven. No, we decided, we wouldn’t. After all, where would be the fun in that? And heaven will be fun, right? If we’re honest we don’t know about golf in heaven, But what we do know, what we can be certain of, is that there will be one great wedding celebration and one fabulous feast as the bridegroom welcomes his bride. Then I will be perfect. And so will you. And I’ll settle for that. That really will be the perfect day. And let’s hope this attempt at my blog works. That would be good enough for today!

Ruins

It happens to all of us at time I guess. For some it’s a relationship. For some it’s work. For some it’s financial. It could be anything. Sometimes we might be able to see it coming. Sometimes we might be able to so something about it. Sometimes not. Sometimes, perhaps we could have predicted it. Some people say they predicted COVID-19. Or if they don’t claim to have predicted exactly COVID-19, they say they predicted something like it. And maybe they did. But it didn’t stop it happening did it? And that’s true of other things in life. And sometimes it leaves us in ruins. For some people that’s exactly what COVID-19 had done. For others it may be just a matter of time before the effects of the virus take hold. Sometimes the things we can’t see, can’t predict, or the things we might be able to predict but that happen anyway, leave us in ruins. Those relationships that go wrong; the investment that crashed; the job that didn’t deliver; the future that never materialised. Sometimes it’s our health, or rather our lack of health that leaves us in ruins. The accident that changed everything. The illness that took away our freedom. I went to visit my mum on Saturday evening. She suffered a heart attack on Friday evening. I wasn’t expecting that. And I don’t think she was either. I never thought my mum would suffer a heart attack. She’s always been extraordinarily healthy. I can’t remember her ever being ill when I was a kid. Or as an adult. But I went to visit her in Bournemouth hospital because she’d suffered a heart attack. In one way she was in ruins. She couldn’t remember anything much about what happened. She was groggy. She was tired. No doubt she is confused and probably anxious. In the words of Pink Floyd, she’s one step nearer to death. And death, we know is the ultimate ruin. Unless you’re my mum. I took a Bible with me because I know that’s the thing she’d most want with her in hospital. I read Psalm 139 to her and as I read, she kept nodding and agreeing with the words. And here’s the thing: death will not be ruin for my mum. One of my favourite singers is Bebo Norman. He wrote a song in which he sings: “Let my ruins become, the ground you build upon.” He’s inviting God to build on the ruins of his broken heart. My mum’s heart is broken. Al least it’s not working as it should right now. But she has invited God to build on that other broken heart, the one that determines what she will live for and where she will put her trust. And she has put her trust in the one who says there is no place you can go from his presence. Life throws all sorts of unexpected things at us that can ruin us. Like a heart attack. Ruins don’t have to be the end. Not if you do what my mum has. Life will probably be different if and when she recovers. But God will still be with her. If her body stops working altogether and she dies, God will still be with her. She will not think of that as ruin. She trusts that God will still be with her and he will build a whole new life on the ruins of death. I hope she recovers. Either way, God is present. Thanks mum, for reminding me that God is in the ruins in more ways than one.

Screens

We had a moment in our house this morning. You know, one of those moments where the rage suddenly hits you. After a bit of a wait, the packages arrived yesterday. First you notice how big they are and then, when you try to move them, how heavy they are. And there were only two when there should have been three. Today was opening and checking the parcels day. I say parcel. Not really sure that’s the best or most accurate term. These “parcels” contain clear screens for the charity shop. You now, the screens that you to have to have between customer and shopper so that no one gets too close. So, I’m upstairs when I hear the “Oh no!” ring our through the house. No, really that’s what I heard! I raced downstairs to see, not clear screens, but opaque ones. Opaque ones? That’s no good. You can’t have opaque screens between the customer and the shop assistant. How would that work? You can’t see each other through an opaque screen! It beggers belief. Why would they send opaque screens? How could they have missed the point of this purchase? It’s COVID-19 and we need clear screens - everyone does. Why would we pay a ridiculous £600 for opaque screens which are useless? Now we have to get on the phone and join the queue of all the other poor people who have been delivered opaque screens when they ordered clear ones. And we’re sixth in the queue. Sixth! And then it happened. What if…no there isn’t…is there? Oh…wait… yes there is. A protective opaque layer that peels off the clear screen to reveal…a clear screen! Phone down! Turned out it was good to be sixth on the queue. Got me thinking though. I don’t always see clearly. There are many times when my vision is clouded by expectation. there are many times when might sight is blinded by my own prejudice and opinion. Sometimes it’s so bad that I can’t see beyond the end of my own nose. Rarely, if ever, am I able to see the whole picture. And yet I have a fantastic ability to believe otherwise. Sometimes I even pretend I can see more clearly than God. Sadly, I think I should probably have said that I mostly think I can see better than God. Paul writes that now we see through a glass darkly (which is another way of saying we don’t see clearly). I would do well to accept the truth of that and stop pretending I can see more than I can. I would do well to accept that God can see far, far better than me. Paul does say that one day we will see clearly, when we see God face to face. But until then, God is the one who sees everything clearly. Until then, I’ll try to be more honest about my ability to see clearly.

Anticipation

It won’t please everyone, but I’m certainly looking forward to it. And it starts again this evening. It’s been a while. There would have been a time when we would have said things like: ”Can’t survive without it!” But, oddly, we have. It will, in my opinion, be to get it back, even if it’s not quite what we’re used to. The Premier League resumes at 6pm this evening! Some people will have been waiting with great anticipation. Others won’t even notice it’s happening. For those who’ve been waiting, there is great excitement. Liverpool are set poised to win their first title in 30 years. How soon will they clinch it? Who will get into next season’s Champions League? Who; will get relegated? During the lockdown and the restrictions, we’ve found other ways to keep football alive. I’ve quite enjoyed Match of the Day with it’s various Top Ten selections. It’s been an opportunity to look back on things easily forgotten. There have been re-runs of England’s finest moments (although to be fair that didn’t take long). But, while great to watch again and to remember moments that were great at the time, it’s not the real thing. But tonight is the real thing. And the anticipation is rising. I read in a book once that we don’t often talk about heaven because we don’t think it will be much different to what we know now. Sounds odd doesn’t it. Especially of you’re a Christian. Heaven is supposed to be the thing. The thing isn’t it? Some people even thing that being a Christian is all about getting into heaven when you die. That’s kind of how it was presented to me when I was young. At the end of an evangelistic talk (remember them?) the speaker would ask where you would go if you left the meeting and got hit by a bus: heaven or…But Jesus doesn’t seem to think like that. The Bible doesn’t talk much about heaven. Sometimes it talks about an afterlife, but not often. Jesus does say that he come and take us to where he is. And Revelation does talk about a new heaven and a new earth. But we don’t talk much about it. I’ve certainly never preached about it. And yet…And yet…what we experience now is not the real thing. No really it isn’t. Sorry if that disappoints you. What we think of as real, material possessions, success, money and the like are only temporal. That just means they won’t last. They will fade away. What is eternal is what it ultimately important and that’s the stuff we can’t see or touch. Love. Relationship. Faith. Peace. Joy. The truth is, that one day, there will be a new heaven and a new earth. But the eternal is present now. It’s already begun. There is an anticipation about what is to come. Absolutely there is. But that’s not everything. God is present here and now. And that’s what makes the difference. I’ll enjoy watching the Premier League tonight and in the days to come. But I wait in eager anticipation for what is eternal, now and in the future.

Space

One of the things I’ve quite liked about the lockdown is the feeling of space. I like being with people, but I’m also quite introverted. Which means I like my space. Part of the problem with my job is that, for people like me, it’s people heavy. Don’t get me wrong, I like being with people. I love being in front of people, but not always. And the challenge with the job is how to keep the balance between people and space. I need space to think. I need space to read. I need space to prepare and write a talk. I need space to imagine. And if I’m going to be creative, I need space. But it can’t be all space. I have a recurring nightmare (well for me it’s a nightmare) of being ready to speak when there in no-one on the congregation. That doesn’t work! There must be a balance between people and space. Turns out that most of the universe is space. A friend told me that. But apparently it’s true. There’s a lot less stuff and lots more space between (that’s my unscientific explanation which I’m quite proud of until someone tells me otherwise). If I’ve remembered this correctly, if the nucleus of an atom was the size of a walnut (which I know it’s not), then the electrons moving around it would be two hundred miles away! The point is the space between, compared to the size of the nucleus and electrons, is huge! And then when you start to think about the size of the universe itself, it’s mind boggling. The distance to the sun is ninety-four million miles. And the sun is just one of two hundred billion stars in our galaxy. It’s actually hard to get your head around it. It’s absolutely huge. There is so much space. Literally! And then there’s God, who created the whole thing. Huge. And so much space between us. Us and God that is. Except there isn’t. There should be. And in one sense there is. But, in fact there isn’t because God stepped right into the space. He came a pitched his tent with us, He walked right here with us. Extraordinary, that he would do that. He did it because he wanted to close the gap. He did it because he wanted to get close. And he still want to get close. Close enough to be known by the likes of me and you. Mind boggling. But good news. Very good news indeed. The King of the universe, the creator of all this space and all the stuff that’s in it, wants to be known by me and you. When I think of space, of the universe and realise quite how tiny I am it’s quite daunting. And yet the one who made it all, who put the whole thing in motion has me on his mind, always has and always will. I need space to get my head around that.

Future

One of the things I wrestle with in this strange time is what is the future going to look like. I’m not one for thinking way ahead. I’ve told you before I’m a plodder. But sometimes it’s good to look ahead, and sometimes essential. So I’ve been thinking: what it will be like in the future. I played golf yesterday with friend I haven’t seen for a while. As we went to check in at the pro-shop, we got chatting with the pro (like you do). When I asked how he was and how he was holding up, he said he was doing ok, but that was busier than ever. Golf membership it turns out is soaring! Who’d have thought? But the thing is, the gyms aren’t open (don’t want to talk about that because I’m really missing the gym) and so lots of people are turning to golf. I’m pleased for the pro. And I’m pleased golf courses are open because I do like to play golf. And, for now at least, golf is in! I was in a meeting this week where we were thinking about going back into the church and how we might lead services from there (this is where I’m forced to think about the future). What became clear though, is that there are still lots of unknowns. When will we be able to go back? What will we actually be able to do when we go back? Will we be able to sing? How long before a congregation can gather? How will we manage the space if 2m distancing is still in force? And if we want to continue to live stream, how will do that? What new equipment will we need? Who will operate it? By the end of the meeting my head was spinning. Questions, questions, questions. And not many answers. Truth is, we have little idea of what it’s going to be like or when it will all happen. I’m not good with that. I find, if I dwell on it, I become anxious. All I really want to do is teach. Some of us struggle more with the uncertainty of the future and what it might bring than others. I’m guessing we’ve all been shaken to some extent or other with the arrival of this pandemic. We didn’t see it coming. Not really. And there is the possibility it could happen again. There’s a phase Christians like to trot out at times like this: “I don’t know what the future holds; but I know who holds the future”. I find that a bit twee to be honest. But it does contain a deep and profound truth. In the Kingdom of the Heavens, in the bigger and far better story God, the world is a perfectly safe place to be. That’s what Jesus said when he told us we have no need to worry. It means that the bigger and far better story of God is bigger and far better than the story I can see in front of me, however far I can see. So, with every fibre of my being, I’m going to trust myself to the future of His bigger and far better story.

Plan B

So my big day was yesterday. Well, what was supposed to be my big day. I have a confession to make to all you men out there: I like clothes. No, really I do. If I had money, I know I’d want to by expensive clothes. Ask Lisa. She knows that a birthday or Christmas (and maybe Father’s Day - there’s a hint) aren’t right if I don’t get an item of clothing. It’s sort of become a tradition. Which means, yes, pretty much all the clothes I own have been bought for me! But yesterday was the moment I have dreamed about for years. I got to try on my made-to-measure suit. The suit that I’m wearing at Meg and Justin’s wedding. Oh…wait…I wonder when that will be? I’m pleased to say the suit fitted perfectly and I was able to bring it home. The plan had come together. When I first went to enquire about having a suit made I was told to come back in a year’s time! So I did. I kept to the plan. We had it all worked out. There was enough time to choose the cloth, the lining, the cut, the buttons, the style and time to be measured And there was enough time to have it made and have a fitting to check for any alterations that might need to be made. And all for the date set for the wedding. But…but…now there is no wedding. Not now at least. Not when we planned it. So now, it’s plan B. Seems to me most of life is like that. We plane and prepare, we anticipate and schedule, we organise and get ready and then it changes. And sometimes it changes irrevocably. We call that tragedy. My best guess is we all know about tragedy. Living with Plan B is not what we want. I’m not sure it’s what God wants either. But, and here’s something I say as confidently as I say anything, I’ve come to think that God is the master of Plan B. Think about it. Some people want to believe that everything that happens is God’s will. I admire that faith, but I do not share it. I don’t share because I cannot believe a God is like that. Just look at what’s happening in the world. God’s plan A? Really? And Jesus on the cross wasn’t Plan A. God tried lots of things before we got to that! And case you now think I don’t believe in God, not true! I just think God’s better than that. Much, much better. He’s the master of Plan B. God is not thwarted when things go wrong, when people choose the way of evil, people like you and me. I wonder how many times in my life I have missed God’s best for my life. And what has God done? He’s not abandoned the plan, he’s changed it, gone with it and enabled me to keep walking, keep following. And in his wisdom, he weaves a new path. God, it seems, is able to work with whatever I throw at him. And you. And a world full of bad choices and evil choices. Plan B is not what I want. It’s not what any of us want. It’s not what God wants. But God is the master of Plan B. And I am so very grateful he is. And my biggest day is still to come. And for that day I will keep dreaming.

Chaos

Well it is, isn’t it? Chaos? Certainly seems like it to me. I know I shouldn’t admit to this, but I don’t watch the TV much and hardly ever watch the news. I used to. But I don’t anymore. I do listen the radio and I always have it on the news station. But I don’t sit down and watch the news. To be honest, it’s just too hard to watch. Agendas aside (and I recognise every news station has a bias and an opinion however much they might say they don’t, even the good old BBC) we only seem to want to talk about everything that’s wrong! And there’s a lot to talk about. And I find myself wanting to avoid that. So I don’t watch it. I’m not doing very well if Spurgeon was right and I should be writing sermons with the Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Perhaps I do it in a different way. Maybe you are a better judge of that than me, since you, perhaps listen to my sermons! And right now…there’s so much chaos. Black lives matter. Yes, they do. Absolutely they do. But so do other lives: refugees; widows and orphans; the street homeless. The list could go on. My brother-in-law lives in Minneapolis. He’s actually scared to leave his house: COVID-19 is out there and so is extraordinary violence perpetrated by some people protesting about…violence…Chaos. I’m struggling to know how to respond. Forgive me for not remembering the exact details of what I’m about to write. Some years ago I was reading a book (can’t even remember which one) and the story was told of a Jewish man who had been a prisoner of war in the concentration camps of WWII. He was giving evidence at the Nuremburg trials against of one of the officials at the concentration camps. When the accused was brought into the court, the Jewish man fainted. Everyone assumed he had fainted because when he saw his oppressor it was too much for him. Not true. He said he fainted because when he saw the man unshaven, dishevelled and in handcuffs, he realised how much this man was just like him. And if this man could commit such atrocities, then so could he! There is chaos out there. That is certainly true. And, maybe there is chaos in each of our hearts. Frightening, but perhaps more true than we mostly care to admit. Perhaps the reason I avoid the news is because, somewhere deep inside, I’m aware of the chaos in my own heart. But I am not without hope. In the beginning, God moved over the chaos and brought life. He still does. And, in the present chaos, I can hold onto that deep and profound truth. And maybe you can too.

Widow's mite

Mother Theresa said giving away what you don’t need isn’t even giving. Miroslav Volf said that mostly we give in order to receive. At Christmas we might find that we give gifts that people don’t want, to people we don’t even like! And if I want to upset a congregation I can easily do it by talking about giving. And there’s a little story we use to make the point that we really should give more than we can afford. If we want to be really good Christians that is. Which if course, we do. Don’t we? So, here’s how you do it. you give away all you have to live on. Sound ridiculous? Well that’s what Jesus said when he saw the widow put her two coins in the temple treasury. No, really he did. He watched the rich people put their money in and then he saw a widow put in the last two coins she had and he said that she put in more than all the others! And he commends her. So we should do the same, right? Hmm. Maybe, in truth something else is going on here. Jesus does appear to commend the widow, but do you really think he wants anyone to give away all they have live on? He did tell a rich young man to give everything away. But that was because it was the thing that was stopping him finding God. Money had captured his heart. But that’s not true for this widow. More likely Jesus is using her as an example of someone who is doing what she thinks the religious leaders think she should do. They can put in lots and so she feels pressured to put in more than she can afford. She now has nothing to live on. Maybe Jesus’ heart goes out to her and is cross on her behalf. After all, to give a little of your wealth is not as challenging as giving everything if you’re poor is it? Jesus is actually warning the people not to listen to the religious leaders because they have got lots of things wrong! I’m wondering if this story is here to teach us not to be pressured into giving what we cannot afford by others. God loves a generous giver. But God loves a generous giver when they freely give. In fact, a gift is only a gift when it is freely given. It seems there is so much pressure to give in all sorts of ways. We cannot impress God with our giving, so I wonder why we try. But we do. Don’t we? Especially when we know there’s a need. Don’t hear me wrong. It is good to give and many things wouldn’t happen if we didn’t. But I have a feeling that God, the God who is able, is far more interested in the heart of the giver than in the quantity of the gift. After all our God is the God who can take five loaves and two fish and feed a crowd of thousands and still have leftovers. Giving from the heart touches the heart of God. And he can use our gifts in ways that we could never have imagined. I wonder what he was able to do with a widow’s mite? I wonder what he can do with ours?

Cheated

I’ve never had one, but if ever I was going to have one it would be for the wedding of my daughter. I’ve always loved the idea of having a made-to-measure suit. And a few years ago a friend offered me a very generous gift: to go and choose a casual jacket of my choice from the place of my choice. And in the Lanes in Brighton I knew just the place. Or so I thought. When I got to the place of my choice there wasn’t a jacket for me. In my disappointment and wandering through the Lanes like a lost child, I chanced upon the answer. A bespoke tailor’s with a couple of jackets from their summer range. But that’s another story. What emerged was the place I would go if ever I needed a made-to-measure suit for my daughter’s wedding. And then it happened. So I returned earlier this year to start the process of having my suit for the wedding made. Actually I’d been back a year earlier but that is apparently too early for the suit making process. “Perhaps sir,” said the kind tailor after he found out when the wedding was, “you should come back in a year’s time!” The first appointment, I discovered was simply to choose the material! And my goodness what a choice! When it did come time to be measured on the next visit, I was told I had what’s known as an athletic figure! Enquiring as to what that meant I was told: “it means your chest is bigger than your stomach!” I’ll settle for that! So, with the material and the lining chosen and the measurements taken, it was wait for six weeks before a first fitting! Now it was getting real. Until COVID-19. No suit, fitting, no wedding. Cheated! I got a call in April to give a progress report: “Your waistcoat is made and ready for a fitting, but obviously we can’t do that!” Cheated! Impatient, and wondering if, in fact, the wedding might be able to go ahead, I emailed the tailor to discover the rest of the suit was nearly ready. This week a I received the email I had been waiting for: your suit is ready, it’s in Brighton, it will be pressed over the weekend and I can go for a fitting next week! On my own, or course. So, I get the suit of a lifetime fitted, with no one there to share the joy! Cheated! And, once any alterations are done, I’ll have a beautiful suit, and no wedding! Cheated! Life’s like that. It sometimes cheats us. It cheats us of our loved ones, our dreams, our hopes and jobs, our homes, our health, our strength. COVID-19 has cheated many people. And it still is. I’m left wondering about life and how it works, or doesn’t. And I find myself, slightly annoyingly reflecting on one ting that doesn’t leave me cheated. Yes, you know the answer and I almost don’t want to say it for fear for trotting out the “spiritual” response to all this. But, and here’s the rub, it’s true. Wonderfully true. That nothing, absolutely noting, can separate me from the love of God. Noting can cheat me out of that.

Fog

I remember when Lisa and I were travelling back from a wedding of some friends in Birmingham a number of years ago (quite a few actually). We were in two cars (we’d gone to Birmingham from different places) and Lisa was following me. We were driving on the motorway after a long day at the wedding (weddings can be very long events can’t they), so we were keen to get home. But we had a problem: it was foggy. And this wasn’t just a whispy kind of fog that disappears as you get to it. No this was real pea-souper (hope I’ve remembered that phrase correctly). It means it was very thick fog, one in which you couldn’t see much on front of you at all. It was dangerous and it was unnerving. It was also a very slow drive. But at least we had road to follow. A few years ago we went to Scotland on holiday and we’d decided we would climb Ben Nevis. We’ve summitted Snowdon a few times without oxygen, so we thought we should take on the challenge of the highest peak in the UK. Can’t be that hard we thought. It’s not technical climb and people go up there all the time after all. Then we met the father of one of the girls Meghann went to Albania with. Turned out he worked as mountain guide in Scotland among other places. We told him of our plan and our intent to summit the mountain in a few weeks time. We never climbed Ben Nevis. It was only one sentence: “If you go up Ben Nevis, you must have a map and a compass because if the fog comes down you’ll get lost and people fall off the mountain when they get lost.” If you get lost in the fog it can dangerous! This lockdown and all that’s happening is like a fog: it’s difficult to see clearly and we might be in a different place when we emerge from it. Sometimes, in my darker moments, I struggle to see anything in this fog, let alone the way ahead. Sometimes it feels like every way I could go might end in disaster, and yet staying still isn’t an option either. Truth is the way ahead may not be clear, I may stumble and fall sometimes but there is one who walks alongside and comes to me even in the fog. And he is the one who knows the way. So I guess I’ll stick close and trust myself to him. However long the fog lasts. And trust that wherever I emerge, he will be there.

Furnace

My dad used to say that whatever he was preaching on is what he would be tested on. I don’t remember my dad, but that’s what my mum told me. Turns out it’s often true. Thanks dad! But it’s also really annoying. Actually it’s more challenging than annoying. I find myself preaching a series where three young men face the furnace. Literally. And it’s that sermon this week! You see, here’s the thing: my idea to plunge into a series in the book of Daniel seemed a good idea in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic. This is a second choice world if ever there was one. But then, I had no idea when I put a plan together what would be happening for me the weeks of the sermon on “Even if He does not…” followed by, “In the furnace!” But here we are. And here I am. I’m wrestling with what is in my head and what is in my heart. And, I’m a minister who is supposed to be leading the followers of Christ we call Crawley Baptist Church. I’ve declared: “Our God is able!” And I believe that. Well, I think I do. And I believe that God is quite capable of meeting me (or anyone else for that matter) in the furnace. I love to speak about that, and I will be. So, what am I saying? Well, just that it’s now real. It’s not just good words for the flock (although I really do believe they are good words). It’s about life and choices and figuring out what to do with this thing called faith. So, being totally honest, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of the furnace and I have to make a choice. What I wrestle with is that it’s not a case of right and wrong. Mostly that’s pretty straightforward to decide. It might be case of better or worse, although it might not even be that. It might though be a case of trusting my gut or not. It might be case of trusting my experience of God or not. It might be a case of making a decision and leaving the consequences with God. And that’s what’s so hard. I went for a run this evening (not my best time but a second quicker than the last run). By the time I got home, having spent the whole time chewing all tis over in my mind, I think I know what I think now. And maybe, if I’m writing this blog in a few months time, maybe a year’s time, I might be able to tell you if I was right in what I was thinking (although knowing me I’ll have forgotten what I was thinking by then). And I might be in the “Even if he does not” bit. But, I don’t know that now. So, my choice is really about having the courage to trust myself to him anyway. I think that’s what I’ll do.

Nothing

Ever felt like you had nothing to offer? Strangely it happened to me at the start of the COVID-19 lockdown. It struck me when I was at the hospital in my role as a Chaplain. One of the thigs being talked about right at the beginning of this challenging time was how staff at the hospital would cope with all that would happen. Mental health is rightly a priority at the moment, and there was concern for staff working daily with COVID patients and how it might affect their mental well-being. Psychiatrists only recently were talking about the numbers of hospital staff who might need psychiatric help or counselling as a result of their work. The hospital where I’m a Chaplain anticipated this, and the Head of Chaplaincy spoke to the team about the decision by the hospital to appoint six counsellors to be available for the staff. It made sense. a lot of sense. So, because I am a qualified counsellor, and because I work as a counsellor at St. Catherine’s Hospice where the work is all about loss, I thought: “I can do that! I can be a counsellor at the hospital.” And then I thought how God had brought these things together for such a time as this! So I offered. I offered myself to help the hospital as a counsellor, Honestly, it was a no brainer right? I’m here. I’m qualified. I can help. I am not however a counsellor at the hospital. What seemed obvious to me did not seem obvious to anyone else, No, it seemed I had nothing to offer. So because I am a mature minister I found myself getting cross with God. “What are you doing? What was the point of that training oif not for a time such as this? Am I not good enough? What are you thinking?” I had so much to offer and yet nothing to offer. Honestly, I was disappointed. Didn’t make sense. When Jesus stood on the beach after his resurrection and called to the disciples: “Have you caught any fish?” the answer was no. They had nothing. When they got to the beach after casting their net again at his command, they had loads of fish (153 according to John). But, when Jesus invited them to join him for breakfast after their long night’s fishing trip, he was cooking breakfast with fish he already had. They brought nothing! Until Jesus invited them to bring some of the fish they’d caught. I love it! They’d caught nothing by themselves and Jesus didn’t need their fish to make breakfast because he was already cooking them fish. But then he invites them to bring what they had, which they only had because he just gave them a massive haul of fish. Seems to me that’s how God works. We might feel we have nothing to offer. But Jesus invites us to be with him anyway. And he is quite able to turn our nothing into something he can use. I’m not counselling at the hospital, but I am using my counselling training more than I ever thought I would precisely because of the situation we find ourselves in. Maybe meeting Jesus on a beach with nothing can be a good thing.

Plodding

It’s not in the Bible, but I have a picture in a frame with the words: “Blessed are the plodders, for they will eventually reach their destination.” I’m a plodder. I’m a very good plodder. I keep going. I don’t give up. I am loyal. And I am committed. If I commit to something I stay committed. I’m not one of these people who always has to have something new on the go. I don’t do short term. It’s a quality. It means I am reliable. You can count on me. But it’s quality that sometime gets me into trouble. What goes with it is a tendency to take on too many things because I don’t stop something when I start something new. A few years ago I realised I couldn’t sustain all the things I was doing. Something had to go. So, I started to give things up, things I’d been committed to for a long time. I stepped down from being a Chair of Governors. I stepped down from being Chair of the Easter Team Difficult decisions. You’d have thought I’d have learned my lesson wouldn’t you? But no! Quite quickly I found other things to be committed to. Actually I’m an odd mix. I’m a plodder, committed, reliable and in it for the long haul. But I also like something different. I like a bit of excitement. I like a sense of anticipation about the unknown. So when lockdown came, it brought an excitement. We had to do church differently. We had to get to grips with live streaming. A bit scary but I loved it. And I loved the different routine. It was, in a strange way, refreshing. I would never have chosen any of it, but plunged into the middle of it all I found it brought a new sense of excitement and anticipation. I’ve just written Newsletter No. 10 which means we’ve been doing this for a while now. And now, I’m plodding again. And rather than feeling the excitement, I feel the anxiety of an uncertain future. What will this look like in a few months time? What will church look like in a few months time? Will we have to go through another set of radical changes? I’m a plodder. Change is not my forte. After three years of following Jesus and all the excitement that brought, the disciples went back to plodding. Actually they went back to fishing. It’s what they knew. One night they went out and caught nothing. Catching nothing wasn’t good - this was their livelihood. Then, as morning dawned, a man on the beach asked if they’d caught anything. He asked it in a way that showed he knew the answer was “No!” He told them to cast their net over the other side of the boat . They did and they caught so many fish they struggled to drag the nets in. Jesus cooked them breakfast, but not with the fish they’d caught. He already had his own, so either he’d already been fishing, or shopping! Thing is, why did he wait till morning to do that? Why didn’t he just help them catch fish while they were fishing during the night? Why did he put them through that? I’m back to plodding and I find myself wondering what God is doing in all this mess. Seems to me, that’s the thing with Jesus. He does come to us, but not in the ways we expect.

Ardinlgly

Being in lockdown has made me forgetful. I forgot yesterday was a bank holiday! So I had a counselling appointment to keep. It seemed to work in my favour though, because we went for our walk a bit later than we would normally choose. And this time we chose to go to Ardingly, attracted by a walk around the reservoir. We have a book of walks and we hadn’t yet attempted the Ardingly challenge.. So off we went. The thought of walking by the cooling water was a grand thought on what was another glorious day. It dawned on me slowly. I am still expecting everywhere to be really quiet, like it was at the beginning of lockdown. But it’s different now. People are venturing out. And it turned out a lot of people thought of going to Ardingly to walk by the reservoir yesterday! I was fully confronted with this truth as we came towards the little road to the car park. First it was a pay and display one. So it wasn't open! Then the road leading to it was closed. We could tell that because of all the cars parked along the grass verge either side of the entrance. “What are all these people doing here? Don’t they know we’re in lockdown?” We had to park down the road in a layby of all places! Turned out it added a couple of miles to the walk since it was a mile from the car to the start of the walk (which of course we did in reverse at the end of the walk). By the time we got to the reservoir I was ready to walk by the water. But no! Our walk took us away from the water! What? How did we miss that? So off we plodded in a not so good mood now. And then there were people. “What are you all doing here?” By now I was disappointed. This was suppose to be a refreshing walk by the reservoir, carefully chosen for that reason, with no people! I was feeling agitated. And it showed. And soon I was mad at lockdown. And the heat. And the people. But we plodded on, ventureres that we are, and soon we out plodded the day-trippers, the people who really had only come to be near the water! And that’s when it hit me. The landscape was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. There are some landscapes that do something in my soul. And suddenly, without warning, I was right in the middle of one. It just makes me feel I belong. At peace. When I was a kid I used to go bird watching. I’d even get up at silly o’clock to go out looking for the rare ones! I still love watching them. And yesterday was a real treat because into this landscape came a red kite. Quite a common bird of prey, but this one was so close overhead I could almost touch it. To watch it soar on the thermals was a joy. Turned out that this walk, not by the reservoir, was one of the best walks we’ve done. And yet it all started so badly. But it became a gift. Made me think of a famous Psalm, or at least a verse in a famous Psalm: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” (Psalm 23:5) That’s the kind if thing he does. He comes to us in the mess, bringing something for our soul. At least he did for me yesterday.

Sunday

I love Sunday. I always have. I loved going to church when I was young and I can remember the excitement I felt when I was allowed to go to the evening service too (I think 13 was the age). I sang in the choir and I loved it when I could go and sing both morning and evening. I just love being in church. Being in church feels like coming home. And if I ever stop being a minister (which I guess I will one day), I’ll be in church the following week. And Sunday is the day when the church gathers. We know the church is the people, and we don’t have to have a building, but there is something about the gathered community of believers that is special. When I was young there was nothing much else to do on a Sunday (and I wasn’t allowed to do it anyway). Now? Well there’s so much else you could do on Sunday. But I love church. And I love going to church. I love Sunday. And I love Sunday in lockdown. Sure it’s been different over the past couple of months. But I love the live thing. And I love the sense of anticipation. And I love teaching. And I love seeing others being so creative. And I love that God has gifted us with so many talented people. And I love the sense of community as people send in their pictures. I even love the panic when things are going wrong (well, I love it after it’s over). But I’ve noticed something over the weeks. When we first went digital there was an immense sense of achievement for everyone involved. And rightly so. As the weeks have gone by, we’ve got used to it a bit. Don’t get me wrong - there is still a sense of achievement each week. But it’s changed slightly. And at the end of the first week my phone didn’t stop buzzing with messages for over an hour after the service. Messages of thanks and appreciation came flooding in, literally. My daily exercise walk had to be delayed while I replied to them all! Today though, there were just a couple of messages (still very much appreciated). I’m hoping it’s not because people don’t like what we did. Actually, we’re getting better at what we do. No, I think people value it. But, it’s normal now. It’s not new anymore. We’re not excited in the same way anymore. We’ve got kind of used to it. Although behind the scenes we’re still working as hard as we ever have. Which made me wonder if I do the same with God. He’s still at work in my second choice world in his power and wisdom. He’s still working for good in all things. He’s still watching and waiting and longing and hoping. He’s still furiously pursuing me with his love. He’s still got my best interests at heart. He’s still ready the moment I turn my heart towards him. He’s always there, ready. And I would do well to remember that and live everyday in the truth of it. To make every day like Sunday.

Windy

My goodness me the wind was strong today! Thing about that is it can be an advantage or disadvantage. And what was strange was that I didn’t really notice how strong it was on the top of the hill. It was down in the valley that it was a bit of a challenge, which is not what I was expecting. Perhaps the valley acted as a wind tunnel, I don’t know. In some ways the wind was a welcome relief. It was warm day for a walk, but the blowing of the wind in my face acted to cool me down. Could have done with it yesterday when out for a run. That would have been great! So today the wind was an advantage. But it’s not always so kind. Running into a strong wind is just hard work. Put the wind and the rain together and it can get desperate. If you’re going with the wind though, that’s a different story. It becomes your friend. Actually the wind can be a friend in many ways. In the days when washing was hung out to dry (actually we still do that) a bit of a breeze helps. Flying a kite requires some wind. And sailing relies on it. Gareth, my best friend at school had a mirror dinghy (it’s a little sailing boat just in case you didn’t know). Occasionally I’d get to go out on the boat with him. What I never understood was how it was possible to sail a boat in opposite directions using the same wind. But it is, because we did it! The worst thing that can happen to a sailing boat is…no wind! The wind blows where it will. And sometimes it doesn’t blow at all. Sometimes in life it feels like we’re being blown about by things beyond our control doesn’t it? Things come from seemingly nowhere to knock us of course. We feel like we’re fighting hard just to keep going. Sometimes, though, it feel like everything is going in our favour and we feel like we’re riding the wind. And then, without warning it changes. We’re being blown about from a different direction. “The wind of this world can push around, folding us up, backing us down” sings Bebo Nroman. Too right Bebo. He doesn’t leave it there though. He knows a truth that you and I both know too. There is another wind, the wind of a different world, a different kind of wind that blows. A wind that blows on people like you and me to give strength and encouragement. A wind that picks us up and carries us in the difficult times. A wind that will always help us the best way we could go, even if that means changing our way. It is the wind of a kind, generous and irrationally loving God. And it is his gift in a world where other winds blow. A strong wind today on a walk spurred me on. But the wind of another world will carry me all the way home!