Lost?

Went for a walk today with friends. Had a book that told us the route. It was a new walk, a short walk, about 4 miles. It was pretty easy going and easy to follow the instructions. We’ve learnt over the years to keep a careful eye on where we are. It’s easy to miss a path or a guide post. Sometimes the instructions are ambiguous so we’ve learned to check and double check if there’s any doubt. Today’s walk was pretty straightforward. Until we got to the very last instruction. “Go ahead a few yards and take the footpath down the hill through the trees to the car park.” Simple. Except there was no path after a few yards. We stopped. We checked. We recalculated. We took a path we’d discounted. But it was the only option so it must be right. It must be right. Coming to a fork in the path was not helpful. Logic said go left. The phones (by now we had the walking app working with us) suggested it was a good choice. Then a crossroads and a choice of five paths. After a discussion we made a choice. But that path suddenly disappeared - it just merged into the woodland. The phones said we were heading back to the path we’d left. Another way of saying that is that we were going in the opposite direction to the way we wanted to be going. How could that be? We turned around and went back to the five path crossroads to choose another option. But then I was frustrated and confused. We knew we weren’t a long way away from the car park, but none of this makes any sense. No, really it doesn’t. The last instruction didn’t make sense. And now there are more paths than is helpful. Are we lost? How can that be? it doesn’t make sense. It simply doesn’t make sense! Much of life doesn’t make sense. The last year certainly hasn’t made sense. I once thought I knew what I thought about pretty much everything. But now….I’m not sure I know anything about anything. When I was ill with the COVID virus, I had three or four days when I was utterly convinced that I would never go back to ministry, counselling or chaplaincy work. I didn’t want to and to I didn’t have to. It was freeing. Perhaps I could have walked away from them all. Maybe. I felt lost. Completely lost. What had once seemed important and significant, no longer did. Finding faith, finding my faith in it all is a challenge. I felt lost in that too. Some of the things I had held close, I found I no longer did. The deeply held views that had helped me navigate life to this point in life, no longer seemed to fit ,or work. It was as if I was walking around in circles and going nowhere. I haven’t lost my faith. But I do feel lost in faith. The book with the walks in makes it easy to navigate a walk when everything is clear and obvious. Sometimes though, it doesn’t work like that and we get lost. The truth about life is that it’s complex and confusing. Sometimes and it doesn’t go the way we’d like or hope. Sometimes it causes us to question the very things we hold most dear. Sometimes it causes us to question faith itself. We found our way back the car park. We didn’t panic. We used the resources we had at our disposal and we used our brains! Weirdly we must have ended up on the path the book said we should take. I’m feeling a bit lost. I am having to navigate a new path through unfamiliar territory. I’ve never been this way before. And I’m not sure quite how it’s going to turn out. Here’s thought though: perhaps that’s good enough for God. Perhaps faith is sometimes about the lost times, the recalculating times, the not knowing anything anymore times. Perhaps that’s faith at its best. And perhaps that’s the place where God meets us in ways he never otherwise could.

Broken

Took my bike to be repaired today. Had to book in online and choose a date and time that was free. I was the only person in the shop, so presumably the system works! I took it in, you may remember if you’re an avid reader of these blogs, because it broke. Well, part of it broke. The gear cable that changes the front cogs on the bike (I believe they may be called the chain cogs, although that may just be a name I gave them as a kid) is broken in some way and I can’t change those gears. To say the whole bike is broken is not true and in fact I’ve ridden it a couple of time just using one of the front cogs. But it is true to say that the bike is broken because it’s not how the maker intended it to work. And it’s not how I would like it to be. It makes it harder to ride, especially when if I were to ride on challenging roads or cycle paths. It would certainly make it very difficult to go on a red run (off road cycle routes are colour coded and red is one of the hardest, second only to black which is only for people with absolutely no fear).. If I want to ride the bike as it’s really made to be ridden, I need all the gears working. So I’ve taken it to be fixed. I need someone else to do that because I don’t have the knowledge or the tools to do the job. I could have a go, but I might make it worse. Bit like life really. I get broken in life. To be honest, the last year has broken me in many ways. I’ve had to face things I’ve never faced before and some of those things have left their marks and scars. Some of the brokenness can be mended with the help of wise people. I have a wise friend I talk to regularly and we work on fixing some of the broken parts. It’s takes a long time - or maybe that’s just me. Some of the brokenness I can fix myself by making better choices. But there are some things I can’t fix. There are some things I don’t want to admit are broken. I can exist and function quite well, or at least you would never know what’s broken. I’ve been doing that for years - and you’ve never noticed have you! And then there’s the stuff that is deep and profound and for which there is only one place to go. In the end, however it looks on the outside, in whatever form it comes, the healing of my brokenness is found at the cross. To come to the cross is to come to the great and magnificent love of God. It is to come to the one who was broken so that I might be healed. God, in his grace and love has given me the gift of others to help me, but he is the one who heals, He is the one who has my best interest at heart and who can make me whole. As we draw near again to the celebration of Easter, perhaps we would do well to bring our brokenness and invite God to be our healer. That’s what he wants. That’s what he longs to be and to do for us. We can pretend it’s otherwise and that life is fine and we can keep going on what works. We can do that if we want to. It won’t make him love us any less. He won’t think any less of us because we refuse to admit our brokenness. But we won’t be what we were created to be. When I get my bike back, who knows what I’ll be able to do. Maybe God wonders that about you and me and he’s just waiting to help us in our brokenness.

Wondering

I was dozing while watching the football when the call came. I don’t usually have the sound up on the phone, but I’d been on call at the hospital the night before and had forgotten to turn it down. Turned out to be a good thing. But I wasn’t really with it when I answered. And I certainly wasn’t ready for what I was about to hear. It’s always difficult when someone dies. However much we think we’re ready, we’re not. Not really. It can be a relief. I’ve spoken to many people who have said the death of a loved one came as a relief.. And we know what they mean. The angst, the emotional impact, the physical demands of waiting for someone to die can be immense. And when the quality of life is severely limited, death comes as a relief. But we’re never ready. So when a death comes completely unexpectedly, we are rocked, shattered, devastated. We don’t know what to do. I didn’t and I was only listening. I did my incompetent best as Denise told the story of that morning and that Richard had died. I was struggling. There are no words. Not really. But I tried to be kind and compassionate and helpful.. My heart was breaking. I’m still breaking. And I’m wondering. Probably just like you are. I find myself wondering what God is up to. Ok, so I know, and I am confident that God doesn’t orchestrate disasters and he doesn’t inflict pain on the people he created and loves. What I wonder about is why he doesn’t stop things happening. Things like the unnecessary and pointless death of a relatively young man, who is in the prime of life and doing great things. Who has a family and so much more to give. I simply can’t find an answer. Maybe there isn’t one. Or maybe t’s simply too complex for me to grasp. Sometimes people say that one day we’ll know as if that’s a comfort. I think that’s a way of trying to get God off the hook, which doesn’t work for me. And, however hard it is for me to say, and it is, I don’t think we need to get God off the hook. He is simply beyond my understanding. What I think is better is to accept that truth, and accept that there are things we will never know or understand. That’s why I think the story of Job is so, so powerful. Job never gets answers. What he gets is a glimpse of the character of God. And that’s enough for him to say, “Now that’s I’ve seen a glimpse of who you are, I know you are beyond understanding, but I can give myself to you.” He didn’t actually say that, but I think that what he means. I’ve spent years wondering about Job’s children, the ones who died. Nobody ever talks abut them. Even commentaries don’t really address the tragedy, at least not the ones I’ve read. Not to my satisfaction anyway. The best I’ve read, which is beautiful but challenging, is that our children are best off in the hands of God. I agree. Whether they live or die, I absolutely agree. And that’s my comfort now as I try to find my way through the tragedy in front of me. In front of us. That our loved ones, whether in life or death, are best off in God’s hands. In saying that we trust them to the character of God. I still find myself wondering. But I am content that being in God’s hands is the best place to be.

Gears

I went out on my bike again this evening. I’m trying to build up my fitness again after being ill. To be honest it hasn’t been too bad and I’ve been quite surprised that I haven’t found it a little more challenging. Not that I’m complaining of course! Far from it. The first time I went out it was a case of “take it easy, don’t try to go fast.” I had to be disciplined to go at a pace that was nice and easy since I had no real idea how I would respond. But it was good. By the third time out I was pushing it a little while trying not to push too hard. I did well just going with the way I felt. And, because I know you want to know, I went round the circuit five minutes quicker than the time before. I know, I know. But it made me feel good. So today I went out wondering how it would go this time. It felt harder work to be honest. And today I was thinking: “thank goodness for gears.” I have a mountain bike which has lots and lots of gears. When I was a kid, the bike I really wanted had five gears. If you had bike with five gears, it was a good bike. My mountain bike has 18 gears (it may even be 21). That’s a lot of gears. I don’t think I’ve used them all and I’ve had the bike for about five years! The thing about gears is that there’s one for every terrain. And if you don’t have them on a mountain bile, you won’t get round the course. What I’ve realised though is you have to learn to use your gears well. I’m wondering if life too needs gears. And that maybe gears are a gift to us. There are times when life is good and easy and we can cruise along in a fast gear. But there are times when life is challenging bad difficult and we need a different gear to help us through. Knowing which gear we need at any point in life becomes critical. Sometimes we need to forge ahead with enthusiasm and vigour. Sometimes we need to rest. Sometimes we need to do it alone. Sometimes we need to seek the help of others. Sometimes we need to be still. Sometimes we need to move on. Sometimes we need to pray. Sometime we need others to pray on our behalf. Maybe they’re all gears. And maybe we would do well to choose best gear in every season of life. Part way around my ride today I realised that the gears weren’t working properly. I couldn’t change between the three bigger cogs by the pedals. I was able to keep riding because I could use the gears that were working. I’ll b fine if I stick to the route I took today. Or the Worth Way. But if I try to ride through more challenging terrain, I’ll struggle. I won’t have the gears I need because something is broken. I need to get it fixed. I need to attend to what is broken. Perhaps gears are God’s git to us to help us negotiate our way through life well. And, if that’s true, then maybe I need to attend to them and use them well. And maybe you do too.

Faith

Hi! It’s been a while but here I am again. I think it’s quite funny that the last blog, written on the 19th January, was titled “Gap”. I had no idea when I wrote that, that there would be a gap before I wrote the next blog! It was, somehow, prophetic.in its own way. I didn’t plan the gap and I wouldn’t have chosen the gap, but that there was a gap proves that life doesn’t always go as we would like or predict. And I certainly wouldn’t have chosen what filled that gap. Actually I never thought I’d catch the virus, and if I did, that I would be asymptomatic. But then I don’t always get things right! There are things in life that cause us to take stock, to really think about how we look at the world, and life, and everything we do. There are times when experiences cause us to reframe our thinking. And sometimes that’s really, really hard. Sometimes life causes us to re-think what we thought we knew, what we thought we understood and what we thought we believed about life, about God and about faith. I did a lot of thinking while I was unwell. I found myself in a place I didn’t think I would be and a place I didn’t want to be. And a place in which the future was uncertain. I didn’t know which way the illness was going to go. Ordinarily I enjoy a good health. I keep pretty healthy and fit. I don’t have any underlying health issues. I rarely go to the doctor. And yet, as I lay in bed, I understood that it counted for nothing. I also knew that there were people praying for me. Lots of people all over the world it turned out! And I was, and am, very grateful for that. But…what did it mean as I lay in bed? Would it make any difference? The truth is I know of people who were very much like me: enjoyed good health, kept themselves fit, expressed faith in God and yet who did not survive the illness caused by COVID-19. It caused me to think about what faith is and what it means. And it turns out I had some reframing to do. What could I rely on? What is the unchanging truth? How do I exercise faith in so much uncertainty? If I want to know the answer to these things, the place I must go is to the cross. The cross is the greatest and fullest revelation of God and who he really is. Everything else I might know or believe about God must be seen through the truth of the cross. And what the cross shows me is the height, length, breadth and depth of God’s love. It shows me that I cannot be separated from God’s love and that I am loved beyond my imagining. My reframing challenged me to put my faith, not in the things God might do for me, not in the things that things others can do for me, but in the character of God as he shows me in the cross. My faith has been challenged over the past few weeks, but in the process of wrestling with life and death and God, my faith has come to rest in the truth of the cross and God’s great and magnificent love. So I’m wondering…how’s your faith?

Gap

I was the Chaplain on-call for East Surrey hospital on Sunday night. The way it currently works that meant I went to pray with the Emergency Department at 7pm and the ICU Department at 7.30pm at the beginning of their shifts. It is a privilege to do that. At 1.15am I got a call from the switchboard at the hospital asking if I was the on-call Chaplain. When I said yes (I’m amazed I actually managed to speak after being woken up) I was put through to the ICU to speak with a member of the team. I was then asked if I would go and visit a patient who was in end of life care. So I got dressed, got in the car and drove to the hospital to visit a young man who was dying. I found my way to the ICU and was helped into the PPE by a lovely young doctor who explained the situation to me. This was a young man, with a young family who they had done all they could for. His family had visited earlier in the day but had now accepted he way dying and asked for a Chaplain to visit. I went in and read scripture and prayed with the young man. Having done all I could, I left and went home. It just so happened that I was also on the early shift on Monday morning, so I went again the pray with the Emergency Department and the ICU Department, this time at 7am and 7,30am. When I got the ICU department I bumped into the young doctor I’d met in the middle of the night. She thanked me for attending to the patient and told me he had died soon after my visit. She said the family had been comforted by knowing a Chaplain had been to pray with him. When I got to the Chaplains office a bit later, I picked up an email from the young man’s family thanking the Chaplain who had visited and saying what a comfort it had been for them to know that as they were praying for him, someone was paying with him! It struck me what a privilege it was to stand in the gap in those moments. That’s what I had been able to do: to stand in the gap. In the moments before my mum died in July last year, a Chaplain had visited her and read to her from Ephesians. She would have loved that even though she wasn’t conscious. I wasn’t present at the time, I was probably on my way to the hospital but I went and found the Chaplin and thanked him for standing in the gap. As I have thought about all this since yesterday morning, it occurred to me how we can all stand in the gap for others in all sorts of different was at this time. It’s not the reserve of a Chaplain. We can all pray for someone. We can all read scripture and ask God to be true to his word for someone. We can all stand in the gap. Mostly we’ll never find out how God was at work. But we can trust that God is listening and waiting for us to be those who stand in the gap. So…I’m wondering, where can you stand in the gap for someone?

Success!

Forgive me, but there’s only one thing I can write about today. On Sunday Crawley FC played against Leeds United in the 3rd round of the FA Cup. For those who are not aware, this match was a David v Goliath event. Leeds United are in the Premier League (that’s the best league in the country with all the best payers paid the highest wages) . Crawley Town are in League 2. Between them are two other leagues: The Championship and League 1.. There are 64 teams between them. That’s another way of saying that if all the professional teams were in one big league, Leeds would be 64 places above Crawley. 64! In other words, Leeds United are a much better team than Crawley. Ordinarily Crawley will never get to play against Leeds because they’re not good enough. But, in the Fa Cup, the lower league teams get a chance to play the better teams. I was hoping that Crawley would give a good account of themselves and not get beaten too easily. By half time it was still 0-0. And them in the second half the impossible happened. It really did. The first Crawley goal was a great piece of individual skill. Zac and I leapt off the couch, and cheered loudly knocking all our Crawley scarves onto the floor. Could it be our day? Could we go on and beat Leeds? We almost didn’t believe it when Crawley scored a second goal - partly because it wasn’t a great shot and partly because we couldn’t quite believe the goalkeeper let it in! But mostly because it meant Crawley were 2-0 up. The third goal simply made us laugh: Crawley 3-0 up against Leeds United? How can this be? We’ll take it though! What a game! What a game if you were a Crawley fan. What a win. What success against supposedly much better team. What a great afternoon. On Monday morning I went to East Surrey hospital to spend the day in my role as a Chaplain. My colleague for the day Phil, is a Leeds supporter! My first two words to Phil on Monday morning were: “Crawley Town!” It was a great result and I, like all Crawley Town fans, enjoyed the moment. And rightly so. We’ve drawn Bournemouth in the next round. They’re not quite as good as Leeds but they were in the Premier League last season. I used to go and watch Bournemouth when I was a teenager. Could we do it again? We could. Will we go on to win the FA Cup? That’s unlikely. Thing is, we had success on Sunday, but success in football doesn’t last.. “You’re only as good as your last game,” is what they say. Winston Churchill said this: “Success is not final; failure is not fatal; it’s the courage to keep going that counts.”. He has a point. Success is finite. A victory in the FA Cup is great, but soon gone. There is only one victory that affects eternity. Perhaps I would do well to get excited about that. And maybe you would too.

Unexpected places

I’ve had a different week this week. Last week I had a call from the Head Chaplain at East Surrey asking if I could help out by going in on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday this week. The hospital is becoming busy again wit the rising number of infections from the virus, and some staff are on holiday! So, wanting to do my bit to help, I agreed. It was a bit of a shock when I got up at 5.30am so I could be at the hospital by 6.50am to pray with the Emergency Department and ICU team before they began their shifts. But very worth it. I take my hat off to those who do it regularly. The rest of my day was spent visiting the wards. I meet some lovely people on the wards, both patients and staff. I meet some people who are looking forward to going home soon. I meet some people who know they are dying. I have some lovely conversations. I have some very challenging conversations. I have some conversations where I can’t get a words in edgeways. I have some conversation where I’m the only one speaking. I have some very short conversations. I have some very long conversations. I have some conversations where I have no idea what I’m being told and I have to make a guess and hope I’ve got it vaguely right. I have some conversations people don’t want to have, but know they must have. I have some conversations when I’m left wondering what it was all about. I have some conversations that challenge me to the core. I have some conversations that are uplifting. And sometimes I find God in unexpected conversations. Like yesterday. I had been asked to visit a patient with psychiatric problems. I read Psalm 121 and when I’d finished she asked me to read it again! As I left that bed, the person in the bed next to her approached me and asked if she could talk with me. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for!” And for the next twenty five minutes I had a conversation I rarely even have in church: how do you sustain faith when life is rubbish? Does God plan every detail of life? How do you know if God is the one guiding you? Isn’t following God just altruism? What is faith? How can you have faith? Suddenly, on a ward in East Surrey hospital, I was having a deep and profound conversation with a young lady who just wanted to talk! About God. It was unexpected. But then God is present in unexpected places. That’s the truth of the baby in a manger isn’t it? Maybe we’re finding it hard to see God right now with everything that’s going on. Maybe we’re finding it hard, at the beginning of a new year, to think that God will be present. It strikes me, as I reflect on that hospital visit, that in 2021 God might be present in unexpected places. And maybe, just maybe he’s got, pencilled in on his 2021 calendar: “Meet Ian…in that unexpected place!” Maybe he’s pencilled you in too. What if I don’t turn up? What if you don’t? God it seems is in the habit of turning up in the most unexpected of places. It’s what he does. I’m hoping I’ll be ready when he meets me there in 2021. And you?

Presents?

Well I hope you had a good Christmas. A quiet one I expect. And perhaps we might say a strange one. But I hope it was still a good one. And I hope that you received some presents that you have been able to enjoy. After all, that’s what Christmas is really all about isn’t it? Let’s be honest, however old we are, we still enjoy receiving presents don’t we? Especially from those closest to us. And, I expect we also enjoy giving presents to those we love. We love to see their faces as they open gifts we know they will appreciate. We like to surprise them. We like to give them what we know they will enjoy. We like to be generous. We love to give. I received a present this year that really made me laugh. It made the rest of the family laugh too. I love the song “Great Gig in the Sky” by Pink Floyd. It’s mainly a vocal, without words. In my opinion it’s one of the greatest vocals ever recorded. That view is not shared by the rest of the family. They don’t like the song. So for a Christmas present, Zac came up with a clever solution. He gave me a picture of the sound wave of the song. That means he gave me a picture of the lines you would see on a computer if you were playing the song and watching the sounds waves. Lots of vertical lines very close together. Underneath the picture of the sounds wave were the words: “Now you can look at the song so we don’t have to listen to it!” Brilliant. I will frame it and hang it in my office! But I wonder, with all the challenges of 2020, with all the disappointments, with all the uncertainty and with all the emotional strain, if there is something more then presents we desire at this time. Actually it is another gift. But it’s not one we give. It’s one we receive. It’s a gift that has been given to us but it’s better than a present we receive, it’s one we live in. We desire and enjoy presents at Christmas. But I’m wondering if more than presents, we desire and look for presence. And specifically God’s presence. God’s presence is a gift to us and it was given in a new way that first Christmas. God came to be with us. God came and made his dwelling among us. He came to do life with us. And he still does. And maybe what we need far more than presents, great though thy can be, as we go into 2021, is presence: the presence of God with us at this very challenging time. And the truth is that God longs to come to us. He is all around, closer than we think. But he is waiting to be invited to share our day with us; each day, every day. He waits every day. He gives us the gift of his presence when we invite him to walk with us, to go before us and behind us, to our right and to our left, above us and below us, within us and in all those we meet. So what will it be: presents, or presence for 2021?

Waiting

So…it’s been a bit longer since the last blog. I’ve been busy. I know you don’t what I’ve been doing. That’s because I just get on with it and you don’t see it. But, for the record there’s been a lot of planning services (they come thick and fast over the Christmas period), lots of writing various talks, spending time in Chaplaincy work and a few other things! It’s actually a busy time. but a time when I didn’t get to write a blog. Sometimes waiting is hard isn’t it? Waiting for the next blog (assuming anyone actually does that!) Waiting for Christmas - especially when we’re young! One of the things I find really hard is waiting for God. So often, I find myself waiting for something to happen. Or I find myself waiting for God to speak in some way. And, if I’m honest most of the time it seems like nothing is happening. Here’s a thought: did you now that’s really common for the people pf God? Did you know that between the end of the Old Testament and the beginning of New Testament there is a gap of about 400 years? We don’t have a record of what happened in those years and we might think God was not at work. And, when God does make himself known in his coming as a vulnerable baby, most people miss it. They have no idea what God is doing. They have waited so long for God to make himself known, they have waited so long for God to act, and yet, when he does, they miss it. How is that possible? Hmmm. I think that before I pass judgement, I should take a good look at myself. Is it not possible that I can do exactly the same thing: that I can wait for God and yet miss his coming? Perhaps I give up looking. Perhaps I decide he is doing nothing. Perhaps I decide what it would look like if God did turn up and so when he turns up in a unexpected way, I’m not ready. I think it’s entirely possible that I can do all of those things. And oddly, it is God who does the most waiting. He is waiting for me, always. He is waiting for me to come to him again. He is waiting for me to open my heart to his love again. He is waiting for me to give up my pride. He is waiting for me to accept him on his terms, not mine. He is waiting to shower his love on me. He is waiting to help me, to guide me. He is waiting to give me peace and joy. He is waiting…for me. And he is waiting for you. The baby in a manger teaches us that God is shockingly accessible. And close. Perhaps God is waiting for you this Christmas. He can wait. He will wait. He’s not in a rush. He waits…for you. If you seek him, you will find him. Happy Christmas!

Car

Here’s a funny thing that happened. And it’s all absolutely true. I told someone the story only the other day and it struck me like it had never struck me before. When my mum died in July, the family offered Zac her car. My sister’s children are all married and have cars, or don’t want them because of where they live. My brother’s children are not yet old enough to drive. Meg is married and they have a car, so Zac got lucky. Or blessed! He was understandably delighted. It’s not new car, but it’s only done 58,000 miles and mum kept it well. Always had it serviced regularly and repaired as soon as it needed repairing. It was one of her qualities. She looked after the things she had. I got the job of driving it back from Wimborne. Well, I would have done, except having insured it and taxed it, I could get it going! Mum had only driven it once in lockdown, so we assumed it was the battery. A call to Phil, family friend of my grandad (mum’s dad) who trained him as a mechanic, would sort it, I thought. Phil couldn’t get it going either. It wasn’t the battery. Phil took it to the garage to have a look and see what was really wrong with it. He tried the thing he thought it would be and put a new part in. Still it didn’t work. By now I was back in Crawley.. After a week, I phoned him to see how things were. “Sorry Ian,” he said. “It’s something else and that requires quite a lot of money to be spent.” Oh dear. “So what you’re saying, Phil, is that it’s not worth doing?” “I don’ think so,” came the reply. “OK. Thanks for your help.” We decided Phil would scrap the car and keep the money for the effort he’d made to get it going. Mum’s car, it seemed, had died with her. Sorry Zac. He had a car. then he didn’t. Two weeks later Phil rang me: “Ian,” he said. “I decided the car was too good to scrap, so I sourced a reconditioned part and I’ve got ii going. You can have it if you want it.” After a call to my brother, we decided it would be lovely to keep the car in the family, so we paid Phil for the work he’d done and I went to get the car when we went to Wimborne for mum’s funeral service. Which was oddly fitting. Mum’s car had died with her. And, by some miracle it was resurrected with her! At the service that day we gave thanks for mum’s life, mourned her death, but celebrated the deep and profound truth that she would enjoy a resurrection life in the presence of the God she loved and served. We did the same with her car. We thanked the family for the gift given, mourned it's loss and then celebrated when it was resurrected! Does that remind you of another story? One where a gift is given, then lost to death, only to be resurrected? It’s a story we remember when we celebrate Christmas: the giving of a gift. A gift of life. And a gift of life to more than just a baby, for that life was lived that we too might live. And, even though we too face death, we can, as my mum did, look forward to a resurrection life lived in the presence of the giver of the gift. I never thought a car could have such theological meaning. Funny how God can work. Happy Christmas!

Van

So on Friday I went to pick up the treadmill. I had to rent a van. I did measure the car just see if I could fit it in to save me hiring a van. But no. So I hired a van. But, I thought, I don’t need a big van. I only need one bog enough to fit treadmill in. So I looked on the various websites and found a van that was really a car with a big boot space. Lovely I thought. All sorted. That was until I went to pick up said van. I looked at it and my heart sank. It looked smaller than my car. How could that be? My mind went into overdrive: what if I can’t get the treadmill in? What if it’s not big enough? Do I want to risk going all the way the Chorleywood only to find it doesn’t fit? When would I be able to go again it being so close to Christmas? I drove home to pick Lisa up and decided to measure the van. By my calculation it might just fit. Worst of all worlds: I either want it to fit, or not to fit. What I don’t want is to know that it might just fit! I had visions of getting al the way there and realising it wouldn’t fit. It would be disappointing. Irritating. And I would look stupid! So I drove back the rental place and asked if they could give me a bigger van. It wasn’t my finest moment! But, to my surprise the guy said “Yes, we can do that!” What relief. I’m saved. I won’t look stupid. I can hire a bigger van and all will be well. It was indeed well. But the only van they had left to rent was a Luton van, which, if you know anything about vans, is a big van. A really big van. You could use it to move house! So now I have the choice between a van that might not be big enough and a van that is ridiculously big for the task. I paused, thinking, “Why didn’t I just go for a Transit van in the first place?” Let’s not go there! I went for the huge van that I absolutely knew would be big enough. I might look silly arriving with such a big van, but at least I knew it wouldn’t be a wasted trip. It turned out that we also brought back a lovely wooden bench to sell for the charity shop which we wouldn’t have been able to fit in the smaller van! We could have put loads of stuff in the van. We could have moved house. It was huge. As I driving back on the motorway it got me thinking about God’s love: it’s absolutely huge! And maybe sometimes we think that whatever it is we are struggling with is too big for God. Perhaps over this last year we’ve thought that we have been outside God’s love. Maybe we’ve struggled in ways that have surprised us and seem so huge to us, that we have been tempted to think God doesn’t, or won’t love us anymore. Or maybe that’s just me. Because I’ve had moments like that. And I still do. But driving back on the motorway, in a van that was ridiculously big for the task of bringing a treadmill home, I couldn’t help thinking the same about God’s love. It’s ridiculously big. It’s got so much room in it that it can carry everything I’ve got and everything I will ever have have. It’s so big I will never be able to fill it. Or perhaps more accurately, I will never find the end of it. No-one ever has. No-one ever will. Isn’t that what the Christmas story tells us: God love us so much, Jesus came to be born in a stable. God became man. God became one of us. He came to show us just how big his love for us really is. I have to hire another van next week. I’ll never think of vans the same again. But then maybe that’s not such a bad thing, because perhaps it means I’ll never think of the Christmas story the same way again: Perhaps it will help me to remember the deep and powerful truth that God’s love is big enough for me. Perhaps you should hire a van too!

Treadmill

I’m not a fan of treadmills. I’d rather be outside running if I have to run. I’d rather play football or go swimming or play golf than run on the spot. It’s not that I don’t ever use the treadmill. I use it as a warm up, although at the moment I warm up on the bike because of the well documented knee injury! And I can start all that again later this week as we move out of lockdown and into Tier 2. But we have the opportunity of having a treadmill at home. We know someone who doesn’t want the one they’ve got. And we have someone who would like it! So, to cut a long story short, I’ve hired a van to collect the said treadmill and we’ll bring it home later this week. And here’s the thing: the only place it can go is in the garage! But to put it in the garage…well, we have to clear out the garage. It wasn’t long ago that the garage was full of food for the Easter Team It had been that way for years - nearly twenty! For the first time ever we had an empty garage! But it took no time to find things to put in the garage so that now, we have clear it out to have enough room put a treadmill in there. Bit like life really. I have had times in life when I needed to create some space just to be. I like to be busy. I’m not good at sitting still. I can’t go through a day without going outside at some point. If I don’t get exercise I become like coiled spring. And yet, I’ve managed to get too busy and needed to create space. I needed to have a clear out of the things that I need to give up and let go of. Trouble is, when I’ve dome that, I’ve ended up finding new things to take the place pf the old things. And before you know it, I’m just as busy as I was before, only with different things! If we want to create space for the treadmill, then some things have to go and not return. We’ve had one trip to the tip, and there will be others! Once I get started, I like a good clear out. The challenge though, is that whilst I might be quite good at doing that in places like the garage, I’m not quite so good at doing it in other areas of life. I’m not quite so good at getting rid of the distractions I know are just that, distractions. And as we find ourselves in Advent I might have some work to do clearing away the distractions that keep my focus away from what I believe are the really important things. The treadmill will help to keep me fit healthy and healthy if we can find the space. Perhaps though, I would do well to create space for the one thing that brings life in all it’s fullness, not just for now, but for eternity.

Lights

Lisa loves Christmas lights. If she had her way we’d have even more than we’ve got already! Actually, I think I’ve already been told we have more for this year! For the outside of the house! I don’t mind them and I have to admit I do like the coloured lights we have on the Christmas tree every year. We used to have coloured lantern lights on the tree, but they gave up a couple of years ago and now we have different ones (and lots of them). I’m not in charge of the lights, or buying them. But I did buy some lights. I bought lights for my bike! In this latest lockdown the gym hasn’t been an option for the exercise routine. Nor has running (after I aggravated my old knee injury - although I’m secretly pleased about that. Not the knee injury - the fact I can’t go running at the moment!) So it’s been the bike. But what I realised is there’s only a small window in which I can go out on the bike at this time of year if I don’t have any lights! So I bought lights. At least I tried. It seems lots of other people were doing the same things as me. I put in my order only to be phoned very early in the morning by the shop where I was supposed to collect later that day telling me they didn’t have the front light.. Had to cancel the order and find them somewhere else. Did that. So far I’ve got the back light but not the front one. It’s on it’s way apparently. Thing is it’s just too treacherous to go on the Worth Way when the light is fading. The looming dark brings it’s own dangers: people who can’t see me coming; people I can’t see because they’re in the shadows; dogs off leads who suddenly spring from a behind a tree. It’s fraught with danger. What I need is a good set of lights. But not just any lights. I need ones powerful enough to show me the way in the darkness of the tree lined track. Lights powerful enough to make a path ahead of me as I speed through the gloom. I need lights that will alert others to my presence. I need lights powerful enough to keep me safe. Turns out, according to the reviews there is a light powerful enough to do that. It’s the one I bought. When offered a lesser light I cancelled the order. No other light will do. Does that remind you of anything? Only one light is powerful enough to navigate me through the darkness of the Worth Way as I speed along on my bike. Only one light is powerful enough to help me find the right path. Only one light is powerful enough to keep me safe. Only one light is powerful enough to be my guide through the challenges of this life. Only one light has the power to keep me safe from the powers of darkness that lurk, intent on tripping me up or causing me to fall. Only one light shines in the darkness. All others will fail. These new bike lights are rechargeable. That’s great but if I forget to do my bit, they will still fail me. Only one light shines that will never fail me. It’s the light that shines in the darkness, the one the darkness can never overcome. I need that light more than ever in this current darkness. And the good news is the light still shines. Always will. All I have to do is to invite that light to shine on me.

Discovery

The news of the last week about vaccines has brought great joy to many I’m sure. I marvel at the ability of the people involved in the discovery of a new vaccine. It is simply beyond my understanding. We are of course, being told that this is not the end of COVID-19. Not yet at least. And maybe not ever. We may have to live with the virus. But we will have a vaccine. And most likely not just one, but two or three or more. We’ve already put in our order for millions of the ones we believe are effective. The NHS have even asked the church if we could provide a room from which they can administer the injections for 12 hours a day, seven days a week until this time next year! That’s what it will take evidently. My mind boggles. What a discovery. It is literally a life changing one. Or series of discoveries. But then life is a discovery isn’t it? Aren’t we discovering all the time? Isn’t that how we grow and learn? Don’t we go from one discovery to another? Granted we might not always be discovering things that have never been discovered before. But they are new to us. And, it seems to me that it is important for us to discover things for ourselves. It’s great that someone else has already made a discovery, but there are things we need to discover for ourselves. Take faith for example. Other people have discovered faith a long time before us. The Bible is a gold mine of stories of people discovering faith. Take Abraham for example. He is told to leave everything he knows by God whom he barely knows. This will be a journey of discovery! He is promised he will be the father of a great nation when both he and his wife are beyond child bearing years. This will be a journey of discovery. Years after his son was born, God asked him to sacrifice him on an altar (Josephus states Isaac would have been about 25 years old by this time). At the last moment, God provides a lamb for the sacrifice. That would have been some journey of discovery don’t you think? For both Abraham and Isaac. And the first three generations of the family that would became the nation of Israel came though childless couples. A challenging journey of discovery. The story of Abraham is one of many. many stories of discovery in the Bible. And all the stories are about discovering who God really is. Only in the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus in the New Testament do we fully discover who God is. We have all that to look back on. We have all those discoveries to learn from. And yet. And yet, we must walk our own journey of discovery with God. We must find our own faith. We must experience our own doubt. We must face our own challenges. And we must discover who God really is for ourselves. Sometimes we have moments of breakthrough, like discovering a vaccine. Lockdown and the challenges we face right now may be the birthplace of discovery in our journey of faith. Discoveries are really, really important. They bring change. The discovery of a vaccine is really, really important. It will bring change. But it will only bring change for this life. The journey of discovery with God is life changing. It is a journey of discovery that affects eternity.

Thankful

It’s not my forte. Sorry, but it’s not. And I’ve been reminded of that only this week. Eleven years ago I leaped like a salmon to head the ball in a football match but landed awkwardly. I was trying to avoid crashing into the opposition player, and I did. I missed him and the ball, but landed awkwardly. I sat on the ground waiting for the pain in my knee, but to my great surprise there wasn’t any.. I got up and gingerly walked about. My knee felt funny but there was no pain. To cut a long story short I got away with it. Soft tissue damage was the verdict at the walk in clinic two days later. Within a few days I was back in the swimming pool. Football took a few months and I went in goal for a few more. But, I was eventually able to do everything I had before. I tweaked it again a couple of years later. Annoying for a while but it recovered. And I’ve been able to do everything I want to. I’m always conscious of it. It’s never been perfect, but I’ve got away with it. Until this week when I tweaked it again. I’m not a good patient. Ask Lisa. I’m not. I’m impatient. I want and expect my knee to recover by the end of the day. It has not done that. So, as I write I’m annoyed my knee isn’t better already, two days after doing whatever I did. And the truth is I don’t know what I did. But I did something. Thing is, an hour after tweaking it, I got on my bike and went for a 20 mile bike ride along the Worth Way, going as fast as the conditions and the people would allow. So it’s not that I can’t do anything. And it doesn’t hurt when I cycle. It hurts when I walk, but not when I cycle. But, and this is the point of this little story, I’ve realised I’m not very thankful. Well, I am thankful that I can cycle. But I have to work hard at that because I tend to focus on all the things I can’t do! If the gym was open I’d be able to go swimming. But I can’t! I can’t run. I can’t play football. I can’t play golf. I couldn’t anyway in the lockdown, but now I doubly can’t. And if I’m not careful, I forget anything I can be thankful for. And I have lots to be thankful for. I really do. As I reflect on lockdown 1 and lockdown 2, I have lots to be thankful for. As I reflect on church and the things we have been able to do over the last few months, I have lots to be thankful for. As I reflect on family life, I have lots to be thankful for. And when I reflect on the truth that God loves me no matter what, I have lots to be thankful for. Paul invites us to pray with thankful hearts. There’s a reason he does that: because we have lots to be thankful for. And, because a thankful heart is more open to whatever it is God is doing. I’m a work in progress, but I know that God will never give up on me, however slow my progress can sometimes be. And I’m really thankful for that.

Remember

It’s not that I forgot to write a blog before today, it’ just that things got busy, a last minute trip to Dorset before lockdown to attend to my mum’s estate among other things. But the truth is my forgettery is getting bigger. My capacity to forget is improving. As you know I do some work as a Chaplain at East Surrey hospital. I love it. It’s such a privilege. To be a Chaplain I have to have various badges that allow me into the hospital and the wards. And I have to have a badge that lets me into the computer system so that I can record and update my visits. But they don’t just give you a badge. You have to have training in the use of it. No, I’m serious. I had to do six modules of training before I could use my badge to record visits. Six modules! So I sat at the computer and ploughed through the modules. I soon realised that for most of them all you had to do was to click on every page of the module to prove you’d read it. That gave you a pass. A 100% pass. And you needed a 100% pass on every module to use your badge. I thought I had it sussed until I got the end of the record keeping module and suddenly I was presented with a test! A test! And I had to score 100% to pass. It came with no waning. At this point I realised that my plan was seriously flawed. I couldn’t answer question 1. Or 3. Or 6. In fact I guessed on most of them. I scored 70%. I failed. But here’s the thing. I could take the test as many times as I wanted. So I started writing down the answers each time I repeated the test, so I could learn the correct ones. I needed to score 100%. Eventually I did. Took me about five goes. As I said, my forgettery is getting bigger! There are some things we remember. Important tings. Big things. Things we’ve invested time or money in. We remember information, enough to pass a test. We remember that someone hurt us or was kind to us. This weekend we will remember those who fought in war and gave their lives for our freedom. It’s important that we remember. We also forget things. Sometimes it’s good to forget. Holding onto things can do us great harm. Sometimes forgetting gets us into trouble. Sometimes it’s embarrassing. Always it’s because we’re human. The Bible tells us that God never forgets: “I will be with you always!” That’s a wonderful truth. Especially at this time. But it struck me that God also forgets. Yes he does! Psalm 103:12 tells us “as far as the east as from the west, so far has he removed our sins from us.” Bottom line is, God forgets our sin. And that’s good news. Great news in fact. Ok, if you want to be more theologically accurate, it would be better to say, not that God forgets our sin, but that he chooses not to remember. Either way, it’s great news. I had to take my test over and over again until it got it right. I had to get 100%. I don’t have to get 100% in life. I really don’t. If I did, I’d fail. Not juts a few times, but always. But I have a God who chooses not to remember my mistakes and my failings. I can come to him as many times as I need to and start again. And I for one am really, really glad that’s true. It’s something I would do well to remember.

Ear Plugs

Weird title you might say. And it may well be. But stay with me to have your theological juices stretched. “Through ear plugs,” I hear you cry! Well, hang in there and you can be the judge. You may or may not remember that last Christmas (that was before COVID if you believe life existed before COVOD), I had a blocked ear. I love to swim and I evidently got water in my ear and it got blocked. I went to the ear doctor (not sure what the correct title is) and had my ears syringed to get the water out. I never had problems with water in my ears when I went swimming until then. However, it seemed to start a trend. So last week I decided to buy ear plugs to end the trauma of getting water in my ears while swimming. I already wear goggles and a nose clip to protect me from the chlorine, and I hated the thought of adding ear plugs to the mix. But I decided to give it a go and see what happened.. So, on Thursday I paid £8 for ear plugs. All seemed to be going well until length number 12. when the right ear plug came out of my ear into the water. I felt my only option was to keep swimming without the ear plug. I have tried to look for nose clips that I dropped into the water and it’s almost impossible to find them. Other people swimming or floating, or doing whatever they are doing make the water choppy and it’s not helpful if you trying to find something that is small and the colour of the water! So I swam on, muttering under my breath about how useless the ear plugs were and how I’d wasted £8. (I didn’t actually mutter anything. That would be silly when swimming. I did it all in my mind. Just didn’t want you to think I’m really stupid!) I swam on and completed my mile (64 lengths if you’re interested - metric mile). And then I decided I would look for the ear plug. Here’s what I figured: it would float; I was swimming in a lane and there was no-one else in the lane so the water in the lane was now calm; it wouldn’t be able to cross the lane boundary; what did I have to lose? So, I began to walk the lane from one end of the pool to the other. (People sometimes do that in the pool to stretch muscles so it’s not as weird as it sounds. Honesty!) I completed one length looking from side to side to see if my ear plug was caught in the lane marker. Didn’t find it. Turned round and began to walk back to the shallow end. And then I remembered something that happened in Nefyn many years ago. My friend Neil, who followed me as leader of the mission, lost his glasses in the sea one day. He told me he prayed that he would find them when he looked for them because Jesus once got a coin from the mouth of a fish! He really did tell me that! And, he went back to the beach, walked into the water and found his glasses! Remarkable. So, I decided to pray that I would find my ear plug! I really did: “God, be great if I could find my ear plug!” And…I did! No sooner had I finished my prayer, I turned my head to the right and there it was, caught in the lane marker. I was genuinely surprised, delighted and confused all in one. What had just happened? Was that coincidence? Would I have found the ear plug anyway? Did God really help me find an ear plug? Surely there are better things God could be doing than finding ear plugs in a swimming pool for a grumpy swimmer. Surely there are far more important and significant things God should do. I felt, genuinely, that I should say “Thank you!” It leaves me with lots of questions. It leaves me right in the middle of the mystery that is God. But perhaps most of all it leaves with a challenge: how do I respond to a God who answers prayer? And maybe that is a challenge for you too.

Gap

It’s written on the ground right where you can see it if you’re looking. And they say it over the loud speakers too. It’s for your own safety. “Mind the Gap!” Actually that’s the short version, but it is the important part. The full message is: “Please mind the gap between the platform and the train.” But that’s too long to write on the platform. It would probably take too much pant seeing as you would have to keep waiting it all along the platform. But it’s an important message. You could do yourself a lot of damage by not minding the gap! We are in a time of “Mind the Gap!” I think. We are to keep the 2m distance. The signs are everywhere. They’re on the floors in every shop. They’re in the gym. They’re in schools and workplaces. They’re in the church. Everywhere we look there are signs reminding us to “Mind the Gap.” We are minding the gap because it’s a way to keep us safe. It’s a way to protect one another from the COVID-19 virus. The virus evidently can’t cross the gap. But we have to do our bit and “Mind the Gap!” God wants to close the gap. Stay with me here! He wants to close the gap between him and us. That’s his whole mission. That’s everything we read in the story of God. That’s everything we read in the Bible. God wants to close the gap between himself and the people he loves. In fact, if you read God’s story, you’ll see that’s exactly what he’s done.. He promised to be as close a s he could be. The most frequent promise n the Bible is: ”I will be with you.” Some gaps are good. The gap between the train and the platform is there so we don’t get hit by a train. We keep our 2m distance so we don’t pass on the virus to others. We have to “Mind the gap!” And we would do well to “Mind the Gap!” We would do well to mind the gap between us and God. God it seems wants to be close to us. God it seems has come as close as he can. But God has left a gap. It’s not to protect us. It’s not because he couldn’t close the gap. It’s not because he doesn’t doesn’t care. God has left a gap because he is love. God has left a gap because he wants us to choose. God has left a gap because he will not impose himself on us. But God does say: “Mind the Gap!” God says: “Come to me!” The moment we turn our hearts towards God, the moment we move towards him, he will come close to us. In fact, God’s runs to meet us. God wants; to close the gap between you and him. He has come as close as he can be. Now it’s your turn. He leaves you to choose. We would do well to “Mind the Gap!”

Risk

I’m not good with protocol. I just miss it. I always worry if I’m in a situation that will require me to know and follow the protocol. I was once chairing a church meeting when I was moderating for a church on the day they had to vote on something important. My worst nightmare came true when they needed to know if abstentions counted in the total vote count (and therefore affected the percentages for the vote). I didn’t know. Turned out neither did they. Out came the constitution and still we were none the wiser. We made a decision, which turned out, in God’s grace, to be the correct one! But my fear of protocol was simply confirmed. And now we’re into risk assessments.. I’m not good with risk assessments. It’s not that I don’t think it’s good to think about the risks associated with actions. I do. In fact, in many ways, I’m very good at it. I was as a teacher and I am now. But my heart sinks at the pages and pages of risk assessments we have to do today. I had to do a COVID risk assessment for the Monday night football club a couple of weeks ago. And tomorrow I have to read a code of conduct to all the guys before we start to play. Seriously?!! This is just common sense. And we’ve doing it for the past two months already! I spoke to a minister from a different denomination last week and he told me he had to fill out thirty eight pages of risk assessment before he could open the church for services Thirty eight pages! And he failed. So he had to do it again! I’ve heard that from two ministers in that denomination. I haven’t counted the pages for the BU risk assessments, but so far we have five risk assessments (I think) and there are more to do! It’s all in a bid to keep us safe. We want to be safe. But the world isn’t safe is it? There is always risk in everything we do. If we took no risks, we would never do anything. Ever. God took a risk. God took a huge risk. I have no idea if God did a risk assessment. I doubt it. But he knew the risks. He understood what might happen. In fact, he understood so very well, that he tried everything he could before taking the risk. He started again with Noah. He chose a rag tag group of people to be a nation and an example. He gave them the best set of laws to help them live well. He gave them prophets to remind them and challenge them. He gave them land to live in. He worked miracles, was the mind behind great escapes, and stood with them in everything. But nothing worked, so he took the risk. He understood what would happen. He trusted his son, his only son, to two Jewish teenagers. What a risk. He left all the glory of heaven to live among his own. What a risk. He did life with them. He walked with them. He helped them, healed them, he taught them. What a risk. And they nailed him to a cross. It would have been tragic and foolhardy if it were not to become the means of transformation for all who turn their hearts to him. It would have been a risk that was never worth taking if it did not become the death that brings life. To everyone. To you. To me. Today. I doubt God filled in a risk assessment. But if he did I think it would say “Because you’re worth it!” all over it! Because you are. Worth it, that is. Filling in a risk assessment doesn’t mean you never take a risk. It means when you do take a risk, you think it’s worth doing. And I’m so glad he took a risk. For me. For you. And maybe, just maybe, when I step out and take a risk following God, I have something of my father in me. And maybe you do too.