Winning

It seems to me we are obsessed with winning. You have probably noticed the Olympic Games have started and already we are studying the medal table to see how the GB team is faring. Maybe you are like me and you expect to see GB somewhere near the bottom of the table, if indeed we even make it onto the table at all. Maybe I’m being harsh. Maybe I’m remembering Olympic Games gone by when we didn’t win lots and lots of medals. We did in 2012 when London hosted the games. That was our best games ever. We invested a lot of money in those games as a nation because we wanted to win medals. Apparently it says something about us as a nation if we do that kind of thing. It seems winning medals is a way we can compare our nation with other nations. And that’s true it is one way of comparing our nation with other nations. I guess the question becomes: is that a good or useful way to compare our nation to any other nation? Some would say yes. Others might disagree. Just recently there’s been a big debate about the reduction of giving to overseas aid from our GDP. we’ve reduced it from 0.7% to 0.5%. Christian Aid say that in doing this we have compromised our country’s values and broken our foreign aid promises and that it is the poorest people in the world who will suffer the consequences. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything particularly celebrating the winning of the saving of lives of the poorest people on earth. And how would you do that anyway? We don’t give out medals for that kind of thing. Maybe I’m guilty of comparing different things. Maybe. But what if we measure our success as a nation by how much we help other, much poorer nations? By being less obsessed with what makes us look good and more concerned about the quality of human life we can bestow on others? I love watching the Olympics. I do. And I do love to see GB win. I do. What I think plays on my mind is the place we give to winning and what that tells us about ourselves. Perhaps if I’d been good enough to compete at an Olympics I’d think differently. I’m not trying to do anyone down or belittle anyone or anything. But I am reminded of the words Jesus spoke: “Whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you do for me.” (Matthew 25:40) I might be wrong, but it does seem to me that wining in the Kingdom of the Heavens might be different to winning so that we can compare ourselves favourably to others.

Identity

For those of you who don’t play golf, please bear with me. This is not a blog about golf, although you may be tempted to think so if you don’t read far enough (or you completely misunderstand what I think I’m trying to say). I have been invited to play in a memorial golf day on Saturday. It’s lovely to be invited to play, especially because it’s a memorial golf day - a day to remember a lovely man whose funeral I took 18 months ago after his sudden and unexpected death. He was a good golfer. A very good golfer. I know that because everyone said so and I once had the privilege of playing with him and was able to admire his golf. (Just for the record I actually beat him on one hole where he got a 4 and I got a 3 on a par 3. Just saying!!) And, as you probably know, I quite like to play golf, so an invitation to play golf is always well received. But, I’m really, really nervous about it. I’ve even dreamt about it. I’ve found myself lying awake in the middle of the night worrying about it. No, honestly I have. And I think I know why. Firstly and most practically, I haven’t been playing well lately. I seem to have lost the knack somehow. It happens in every sport and at every level: you have times when you play really well and times when you don’t. And I’m currently in a patch where I’m not playing well. When it’s just me and Terry, that’s ok (if frustrating). Terry’s really calm and we’ve played a lot together over the years so he knows how well I can play, even if I’m not. And we’re mostly having a chat as we go round the course, putting the world to rights! But a golf day is a bit more intense. People keep score! And there are lots of rules that come into play when it’s formal competition that when playing as friends we can choose to ignore. And then in a competition you play off the white tees, which means you have to hit the ball further to get to the hole. It basically makes the game just that little bit harder. Secondly, I have this challenge that if I don’t play well enough, I’ll struggle with what others might be thinking of me. Sounds a little pathetic doesn’t it. But if you have the same thing going on anywhere in your life, you’ll know what I mean. It’s not about having to win. It’s not that at all. It’s about being “good enough”. It’s about being accepted. It’s about identity. From my perspective, the odds on Saturday are against me. And I don’t want to let me or anyone else down! But here’s the thing: no-one else is thinking what I am about my performance on this forthcoming golf day. And I know that! Trouble is the “good enough” script is written deep into my psyche. It works out in the comparison thing: comparing myself to others. And, at it’s worst it’s destructive. When Jesus and Peter are on the beach (John 21), Jesus talks to Peter about the future and invites Peter again, to follow him. Peter does what I often do. He sees John and asks: “What about him?” Jesus tells him it’s none of his business what happens to John. It seems a bit blunt if I’m honest. But, maybe it’s Jesus way of being kind to Peter. “Peter you are not John and you don’t need to be like John. I’ll never ask you to be like John or answer for what I’ll ask John to do.” Truth is, I don’t need to be good at golf. It’s not my identity and it’s not what defines. It might feel like that when it’s not going well, but it’s not the truth. The truth is that, whatever happens on the golf day on Saturday, I am held by God’s magnificent love. I am greatly loved. Always. that’s what defines me. That’s my identity. It would be great to play well. But maybe I’d be better off remembering a better truth than what others might think of me!

Defeat

Yes…I watched it. Pity we lost. It wasn’t the best game I’ve watched, but we had our chances. And on the night, probably, the better team won. Funny really because if you’d asked me at the beginning of the tournament who’d be in the final, I don’t think I’d have picked England or Italy. But what do I know? England surprised us and played well in some games. They got to the final for the first time in 55 years. And we all thought, maybe they can do it. Even me. Until the Italians scored! I hate losing. I really do. When I was younger the worst thing that could happen to me was to be beaten in anything. And the very worst thing of all was to be beaten by my brother. Good job it hardly ever happened! It’s a great motivator. It’s what drives teams and individuals on in whatever game or sport they’re playing. No-one wants to lose. The very thought of losing is, well, unthinkable! To see those professional footballers crying at the end of the game because they lost or missed a penalty tells us how much it hurts them to be on the losing side. But here’s something that really disappoints me: it’s when the losing team take their medals off immediately after receiving them! I get that they hate losing. I get that. But it seems you can lose graciously or you can lose badly. To lose graciously you keep your medal on, being grateful you made it to the final and acknowledging that on this day, in this game, the other team were better than you. To lose badly is to take your medal off and sulk ,pretending that if you do that you’re not a loser. It’s somehow to try and deny the truth about what just happened. Just for the record, I’ve kept all my losing trophies! Defeat is hard. Especially when it’s used to define you. And I’m wondering if God sees it differently. Is God particularly bothered who won Euro 2020? Probably not. But he is bothered about winning. And he is concerned about defeat. And here’s the thing: love wins. It does. Ultimately God’s love wins. That’s not a way of saying that if we’re on Gods side we win at everything all the time. Neither is it a way of saying that if we’re on God’s side we win in some things some of the time. But it is a way of saying that, in the end, in what is ultimately the most important thing, love wins. We will have many, many battles between here and the final whistle. Some of them will be hard and tough. Sometimes we will lose them. Sometimes we will feel like giving up. Sometimes the odds will look overwhelmingly against us. Sometimes we will see victories. Sometimes they will seem small , sometimes huge. What we hold onto though, is the deep and profound truth that love never fails. That there is nothing that can separate us from God’s love, absolutely nothing. And, that ultimately, love wins. And that one day, one fine day, I’ll be given a winners medal that I’ll never have to take off. Well, actually, it will be more of a crown. But the truth still stands: one day, one fine day, when love wins, I will be given a crown that lasts forever. We’re already talking about the World Cup in 2022, Euro 2020 forgotten. God’s love enables us to see way, way beyond that!

Kindness

I’ve seen two examples of kindness that have made me stop and think and have changed my heart.. When Zac was 14 months old, we took him for the fist time to visit his grandparents in the USA. That was a flight we (Lisa and I) will never forget, but one Zac will never remember! Four hours in to an eleven hour flight, Zac fitted and we thought he had died. There was a San Diego fireman sitting behind us and he jumped into action. He assured us that Zac was breathing and he checked his vital signs to make sure he was ok. The next seven hours of the flight were awful not knowing what was wrong with him and wondering what was going to happen when we landed. When we landed I went with Zac straight to the children’s hospital of Orange County because he fitted again while we were still on the plane. He spent three days there having a multitude of tests. Turns out there was nothing seriously wrong with him and he’s been fine ever since! The kindness I saw during that flight, and afterwards, came from one man. He was a US Army soldier travelling to Hawaii. He spoke to us at the start of the flight when Zac was unsettled and offered to help us. He spoke to us again during the flight and again offered to help. He ‘phoned Lisa’s dad from the plane (he knew how to do that as an Army man) and he asked his wife to contact us after we had left the plane to see how we were and how Zac was as he was travelling on to Hawaii and couldn’t do it himself. Six months later, yes six months later, when he had finished his tour of Hawaii, he ‘phoned us to ask us how we were and how Zac was. He said it was the worst day of his life watching us go through all that we had on the plane and he had to know how we all were. Amazing kindness. Last week Lisa and I were in the USA again, this time to visit her dad who is in the end stages of life. I watched as Lisa and her brother Bryce extended kindness to their dad in many and varied ways. Larry is not able to eat or speak so communicating is difficult, They sat together so he could share memories of times they have spent together and of their shared family history. Knowing it is the last time you will see you dad alive is hard. Knowing you have to leave and knowing you won’t see him again is hard. Trying to put off the last moments of time together is hard. But to give time to someone in those moments with all the emotion you carry in your heart is a great act of kindness. It would be easier not to be there and be confronted with the hard truth. But perhaps, in those moments it is the greatest gift you can give a person and a great act of kindness. I was privileged to witness it. It was both beautiful and hard to watch in equal measure. When we see kindness like that, our hearts are moved. Romans 2 v 4 tells us that God’s kindness is intended to move our hearts to turn towards him. If my heart can be changed by watching the kindness of others, how can it not be changed when I reflect on God’s kindness towards me. And how can yours not be?

Victory!

It doesn’t happen often. In fact I can honestly say it’s the first time it’s ever happened. No, really it is. And I now have to figure out how I’m going to respond. Yesterday, like many English people all over the world, I sat down to watch England play Croatia in their first game of Euro 2021. Yes, I decided that I would watch the game rather than go for a walk! And you could argue that I made the right decision because England won! Never before in my lifetime have they done that. Never before in my lifetime have England won their first game in a European Championships. In ten tournaments they’ve never before won their first game! And, they beat Croatia, who you may remember beat them in the semi-final of the World Cup in 2018. Its’ a first! I almost didn’t believe it. I’ve got so used to them losing the first game that’s what I expected. I thought I knew what was going to happen, because it always happens. Not this time though. We won! We actually won. And now I have to decide what to do. Am I now going to be an England fan who is fully behind the team supporting them through whatever happens now? Will I trust in their ability to win? Will I criticise the manager if he picks a team I’m not convinced about? Or will I support whatever team he picks, bowing to his superior knowledge of the players and the opposition? Am I now, suddenly, simply because we won, a proper England fan? Here’s my challenge: am I only a fan because England won? Would I be more of a fan if I stuck with them when they lost? Wouldn’t I be more of a fan if I supported them with vigour irrespective of the results? Isn’t a real fan one who supports the team through the good times and the times equally? And, will I lose interest if they fail to progress in the tournament? The question I am faced with is: what kind of fan am I really? And here’s the thing - it’s got me thinking about how I am with faith. What kind of faith do I have…really? Am I a person of faith only when things seem to be going well, the way I want them to, when I get what I want from it? How is my faith when things don’t go so well? Do I talk God up when things are good and fail to do that when things are tough? It begs the question: what is my faith really? It seems to me lots of us think of faith as a set of beliefs we say we follow, and the more faith we have, the more we follow our beliefs. And, the more we can persuade ourselves of our beliefs, the stronger our faith. Faith and belief though are not the same thing. Beliefs, however right or wrong they actually are, are written down and mostly unchanging. Faith is a conviction. England might go on and win this tournament. That would be good! Victory in a major tournament. Fantastic. Faith is a conviction in another victory, in a far bigger and far better story: it is a conviction that love wins. It is a conviction that, there is a bigger and a better story than the one we see on front of us, the one with all the challenges and disappointments. It is a conviction that, in the end, God has the victory. England’s victory was fantastic. But it’s gone now. The victory that God has won is eternal. And that is better by far. And faith in that is what hold me in all things.

Football...again?

Well done if you’ve got past the title and you don’t like football. Thing is, this isn’t really abut football. Although it’s football that got me thinking. You may or may not know that the Euros (that’s Euro 21) start later this week. The Euros, in case you don’t know, is the nations of Europe playing in a cup competition (well, some of them as not all of the qualified to be in the finals). One of those teams is England. And here’s the thing: I’ve been here before. I’m now old enough to have experienced many football tournaments. I’ve got excited about the possibility of England doing well and maybe even winning one! And that’s just it: I’ve seen it all before and so far England hasn’t won. Anything. Ever. So it’s football…again! I have the choice on Sunday to either watch England in their opening game of Euro 21 against Croatia, or go for a walk and a picnic. There was a time when it was no choice at all. Now though, I’m seriously considering going on a walk! Truth is, watching England has lost it’s appeal, it’s excitement. Do I still want them to win? Yes. But I’m less bothered about seeing it happen. The question is: am I less of an England fan or am I just a bit more mature? What I’m wondering is, am I also like this with my faith? I’ve been doing this faith thing for a long time now and some of it has become very familiar. I feel I know how it works. I’ve seen things many times before. I’ve got excited about things that have not come to pass. I’ve wanted God to win and struggled to find the evidence that he has. Does this mean I’ve lost my faith? I don’t think so. Actually I think my faith is as strong as it’s ever been. It’s just that it’s different now. I don’t see things in the same way as I once did. I don’t understand things in the same way that I once did. And that’s a good thing. It means I’ve matured, I’ve grown. Now I’m older, I hold the football lightly compared to when I was younger. There are some things in faith that I now hold more lightly. That’s a good thing too! But there’s also a part of me that’s not bothered about the football. No, really I’m not. It’s caused me to wonder: are there things I’m no longer bothered about in my faith? Or, perhaps more challenging: am I still bothered about my faith? Truth is, I’d love it if England won Euro 21. I really would. And I’d celebrate it! And even if I don’t watch them play Croatia on Sunday, thinking about it all has given me cause to think about my faith too. And that’s a good thing. A very good thing. And maybe something I would do well to do more often. And maybe you would too!

Journey

Today we will make plans for a journey we don’t want to make. Today we will book tickets to the USA. Today we will confirm travel arrangements to visit Lisa’s dad in California. We have made this journey before. But before we made the journey for very different reasons. Before, we went for a holiday. Before, we went so the grandparents could see their grandchildren in the flesh and comment on how much they’d grown. Before, we went because we wanted to go and chose to go. This time we are choosing to go, but we don’t want to go. It’s not that we don’t want to see Lisa’s dad and step mum. We do. But we don’t to go because it will b a goodbye. And a difficult goodbye. This will be the last trip we make to California. This will be the last trip we make to see Lisa’s dad. We know that, He knows that. We all know that. We all know it’s a journey none of us want to make. But today we are planning the journey, buying the tickets and making plans. Today we have to confront the truth. There’s another journey that confronts the truth. A journey that speaks to our journey. He left all the glory of heaven. He chose to dwell with the very people he had created. He chose to take the risk of trusting himself into the hands of two Jewish teenagers. He chose to trust himself to the bigger and far better story of his father’s love. Ii was journey made out of love. In the Garden of Gethsemane it was journey he really didn’t want to make: “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me.” (Luke 22:42) I sometimes think we deny the humanness of Jesus. In this moment his humanness is real: “This is a journey I don’t want to make!” He gets it. He really gets it. His journey is not our journey. But it speaks to us, today. That he chose to make his journey, speaks to us in our journey. Because he went on the journey he really didn’t want to, we have hope for our journey. It doesn’t mean our journey won’t be painful, challenging and full of tears. It will. But it means that we can trust ourselves to his bigger and better story. The story that he has confronted death, defeated it and made another journey possible. The journey of life with God, which is better by far. In our humanness we will find our journey very difficult, but, because he made his journey, we can trust ourselves to God’s bigger and far better story and know that he holds us in all things.

Judging

I’ve just finished reading the book; “The Madness of Grief.” It’s written by Rev. Ricard Coles. You may have seen him on the TV or heard him on the radio. He is sometimes known as the TV vicar. And he has the privilege of being the only vicar to have had a number one chart hit in the British charts. In 1985 he joined the band The Communards. In 1986 they had a number one hit with the song “Don’t leave me this way.” The song was the biggest selling song of 1986. A classically trained musician, Richard Coles played the keyboard. As I understand it, he was brought up with a faith, left his faith and then returned to his faith. He in Anglican priest. He is gay. He was in a civil partnership with, as he says it in the book, the love of his life, David Coles. David Coles was also an Anglican priest. In fact that’s how they met. When I first saw Richard Coles on the TV on QI, I remember thinking, how does a vicar have time to be on programmes like this? Turns out he combines his media work with being a vicar, Has done for years. I have grown to admire Richard Coles. He does not live the life that I live and if we met I would love to talk to him about life, his faith and maybe even sing with him! What struck me most as I read his account of losing David to alcoholism, was the challenge of how much I judge people. And not just people like him, lots of people. He writes deeply of his loss and of his faith and of the hate he has received because people don’t like they way he lives. Here’s my dilemma: some Christians talk about the God of love and yet have the capacity to be extraordinarily unloving, hateful even. I’m not making the depth of this up either. After David died, Richard received letters telling him his beloved David would rot in hell and so would he if he didn’t change his ways. These letter, tweets and messages came from people who claimed to be Christians. This is considered a hate crime and the police have been involved. How can this be? Christians who believe in the God of love! Have you ever considered why God said Adam and Eve could not eat from the tree in the middle of the garden, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? It was because judging good and evil is God’s job, not ours. As soon as we judge others, we are back in the garden. But we love to judge, don’t we. My heart was softened and hugely challenged as I read Richard’s book. How many times, I wondered, have I judged others and condemned them to pain and isolation? How many times have I played God and got it terribly, terribly wrong? Truth is, I love to judge because mostly it makes me feel better, bigger, more right. But if God really is the God of love, and of that I am absolutely convinced, then he loves the one I am judging. And I would do well never to forget that. Love wins. It won on the cross and it will win in the end. Love is what we are called to as Christians. Thank you Richard for sharing your heart at one of the most painful times of your life and helping me to look again at my heart. May God bless you.

Complex

Life it seems is complex. I’d like it to be simple so that I know what I need to do and how to do it. But it’s not like that. At least not for me. After a year of some tragic events, I was hoping for a smoother ride. But that doesn’t seem to be happening either. We’ve known that Lisa’s dad has cancer for a long time now, nearly twenty years in fact. But now it’s at critical point and he is facing the end of his earthly life. We don’t get to see him often. In fact I haven’t seem him in the flesh for nearly ten years, which is the last time I was able to visit him in California. Lisa has made three visits in that time, all because things weren’t looking good, but she went on her own. And if there’s one time we would really like to go it’s now, because he’s dying. But there’s a global pandemic on. What would have been relatively easy is now, complex. Looking through all the guidelines from the UK and the USA and trying to work out if we can visit, who visit and on what grounds, has been like looking for a needle in a haystack. Why someone can’t just write a list of things you need to know, I simply cannot fathom. And trying to work out if, and where, we’d have to quarantine is equally elusive. And then, we don’t know where we’ll end up going in the USA, because they are in the process of moving house! And not just across the road: from California to new Mexico, a distance of about 1,000 miles. Man, it couldn’t be more complex. Until you try to work it around significant dates, likes Meg and Justin’s first wedding anniversary, which, after a lovely, but very different wedding last year, we are simply not going to miss. Throw into the mix that the government, any government, might suddenly change the rules and you’ve just about covered it. Complex. What I have to hold onto because it’s what I’ve been learning through preaching about Jesus coming to his disciples by the lake, is that God is, in all this, closer than I think. And, although it’s really hard to face life in all its complexity, I have to hold onto the deep and profound truth that he has not, and will not abandon me, or Lisa, or Larry, the family in all the places they are, or anyone else affected by this complex set of challenges. I also want to hold before me the bigger and better story of God’s great and magnificent love, the love that never let’s us go, that never changes and never gives up on us. And the deep, deep truth, that nothing can separate us from that love. Not even death. I can’t pretend to understand how that love works, it’s complex. But the really good news is, I don’t need to. And neither do you.

Celebrating

It was Zac’s birthday on Saturday. We had planned to go to Longleat Safari Park. We booked our tickets, but then the weather came. The forecast was for heavy rain all day, not fun if you’re outside at a safari park. Then we realised quite how far away Longleat actually is from Crawley: about two and a half hours just to get there! And we’d booked a table at a restaurant for the evening, so we’d have needed to leave in the middle of the afternoon to get back in time to eat! Things were not going well. So we changed our plans and went to Top Golf instead. Last time I went to Top Golf I really struggled. Not so much with being at Top Golf, but with everything that went on in may head while I was there: the whole failure thing But I was determined to be different this time. I make it sound like you can just turn on and off the struggles that you live with. I don’t mean to make it sound easy because I know It’s not. But I was at least going to try. At Top Golf there are people whose job is to drive around the driving rage in a small van (all covered with protective metal guards) to collect up all the golf balls on the range. In a moment of excitement (or madness) I said to Zac, “I’ll give you £10 if you can hit the van!” His immediate reply was “How about £20?” His mother, who shall remain nameless, then said: “Make it £100!” All of a sudden there was an excitement as was watched Zac try to hit the van. Each time he missed I breathed a sigh of relief. But the tension rose with every shot. I’m not recommending you do this - I’m not sure the man in the van would have been pleased to know what was happening. But it was fun! And, when he finally did hit the van, we all cheered and gave high fives to Zac. Zac got his £100. We’ll talk about that moment for ages in our house. No doubt he’ll one day tell his children! It made me think. We got great delight in setting a silly challenge and then watching someone achieve it. How much more does God celebrate when he sees us growing in love or walking in grace. When we show the family likeness and treat others as he treats us. When we achieve even the smallest success. And I wonder how he celebrated that I enjoyed my trip to Top Golf and didn’t let my mind go to the dark places that swirl there. Maybe no-one else noticed it. But I know God did. And he celebrated that victory because he is always there, cheering me on. And cheering you on.

Relentless

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Maybe it’s because I’m getting wiser. Maybe not. But it seems to me that the world is just relentless. Things come again and again. I guess they always have, but now I notice in a way I didn’t before. When I was younger everything seemed liked an adventure. Each big moment had it’s own magic. And when one had finished, I was already looking forward to the next. I remember when I first used to preach. I would preach every now and again. I loved it. And when I finished one talk I’d already be looking forward to preparing the next. And, I wanted to preach more! I would happily have dome it every week, even though I was teaching at the time. Now I do preach most weeks. and have done for many years. And the feeling is different. Sermons come round often. Relentlessly. It’s hard to keep up sometimes. And I find that with life. Everything seems to come round more often. There’s less time between events, challenges, things I need to prepare or organise. Perhaps it’s because I fill time with so many things and never really give myself time to stop, or take a break. I am my own worst enemy. I say yes to too any things. A few years a I decided to let go of some things for this very reason - life was relentless. I did. I let go of some things. But then I trained as a counsellor and picked up a whole new set of things. Maybe that’s ok. Maybe it’s not so good. I wonder if Jesus ever thought the same: that life was relentless. After all he never got a break from those who were trying to kill him, or the attacks of the evil one who wanted to to stop him,. His disciples never quite seemed to get what was going on - certainly while Jesus lived. The people were always following him, wanting him to heal them or help them or feed them. And, Jesus knew and understood where it was all going to end. Having that hanging over him must have made it feel relentless. And yet, he was the most content person ever to have lived. .How was that possible? Perhaps Jesus had grasped the bigger picture in a way I have not. Perhaps Jesus was secure in the magnificent love of his Father in a way I am not. Perhaps Jesus really did understand that the universe is a perfectly safe place to be when you are help in the Father’s love. perhaps I would do well to learn from Jesus. Perhaps you would too.

Distance

Zoom is great for some things. It really is. It’s literally been a life line during the last year. Where would we be if we hadn’t been able to meet remotely? We’ve been able to meet with people in all sorts of ways we never thought possible. My own family have been able to meet together - all of us - on Zoom. We didn’t manage to do that in person for mum’s 85th birthday in November 2019. We could find a way to get everyone to the place we met: either the timing or the business of life didn’t allow. But we managed to get everyone on a Zoom call just after Christmas! Amazing! Zoom (and there are other ways of meeting virtually) has made distance smaller. It has brought us closer in may ways. But Zoom is more difficult for some things. Some things work better in you’re there in person. What we have realised in the last couple of weeks is what many people have experienced during the pandemic: talking to a dying loved one over Zoom is, well, difficult. You want to be there. You really want to be there. Perhaps it’s better than nothing, that’s probably true. But there is no substitute for being with people in their darkest and hardest moments. What I’ve observed during this last year is that we’ve had to do so many things at a distance. Even now at the hospital there are security guards on the door. You can only go in if you’re staff or if you have a valid reason. For most people that means visiting at a distance: we call it Zoom. I don’t know why it’s called Zoom, but maybe it’s something about making the distance smaller - zooming in. Maybe. And maybe it’s true. But it’s not what we want. We want to be there. We want to be present. Mostly distance is not good. Sometimes distance is good. Trying to beat the virus requires distance. And beating the virus would be good. But it brings consequences that are not good: distance from loved ones, from community, from company, from friends. It seems to me too, that lots of people are wondering where God is in all this. He seems, well, distant. I know that feeling because I’ve felt it too. It’s been a tough year and it’s not getting any easier. And I am tempted to ask why God is not close, why he seems distant. I love the story of Jesus meeting the disciples on the beach after his resurrection in John 21. Peter and the others go fishing and they fish all night catching nothing. Exhausted and hungry, they are returning to the shore when the man on the beach tells them to throw their nets over the other side of the boat. They do and they catch what is probably one of the biggest hauls of their lives (we’re even told how many fish they caught). Here’s the thing that bugs me though: why did Jesus wait until they had been fishing all night to help them? Why not come to them at the beginning of the night: “Right lads, here’s where you need to fish, trust me!” But no, he lets them go all through the night. I’m not sure I’ll know the answer as to why he did that. I can speculate and so can you. Lots of people have. But here’s the thing: Jesus was not as far away as they might have thought. And what looked like a huge distance to Peter and the others wasn’t quite the same distance to Jesus. He was there, they simply couldn’t see and didn’t know. Perhaps it’s really true that when we feel God is distant, he is very close. I’m going to hold on to that truth. And maybe you can too.

Rollercoaster

I got a gift card for my birthday. Gift cards are great because you can choose a gift for yourself! And with this one I could choose a shop from a selection, so I had lots of choices. My problems started when I went to scrape off the strip on the back of the card to reveal the code. It’s supposed to come off easily. It didn’t. In fact it became a complete mess, so much so that I couldn’t see the whole code! Which meant the card was useless. Ahhhhg! A trip to Sainsbury’s , receipt in hand, ensued. But guess what? Although they sell the cards, they won’t have anything to do with it if it goes wrong. Oh no, you have to go online and contact the card company. Fat chance of that I thought. That’ll never work. But, because it was a gift, I thought I’d better give it a go. I managed to find the customer services part of the website and I wrote a very polite email explaining my predicament. To my great surprise, I got a lovely response for Roderick. He apologised and asked me to provide a picture of the card with the damaged strip, and if I had it, the receipt. Well, I did have the receipt when I went to Sainsbury’s, but somehow by now I’d lost it! I duly took the photos and explained I didn’t have the receipt. That’s that then, I thought. But no. Two days later I had another email from Roderick giving me the complete code and instructions for claiming a gift. And he thanked me for my patience! I was impressed, so I sent Roderick an email thanking him for his help (I can be kind sometimes). I proceeded to activate the code, chose my store and went to buy a gift. I found a new pair of swimming trunks and went to the checkout. Whatever I did it wouldn’t accept the code number I’d been given - it said it was an invalid code. Ahhhhg! I tried everything I could think of, but I didn’t have a four digit pin that I apparently needed as well! Roderick received another, not so polite email expressing my frustration. Explaining my frustration to Lisa , I demonstrated how ridiculous this situation was, only to discover that I hadn’t quite completed the process with the card, so I hadn’t in fact, yet got the correct code and four digit pin number I needed! Oooops! I completed the process, went back to the store, and, hey presto, was able to purchase a nice new pair of swimming trunks! I felt obliged to contact Roderick again and explain I had figured it out…and thanks for his patience! It struck me that the experience of flitting between excitement and frustration and disappointment and success was a microcosm of how life so often is. One moment it’s great, then next is isn’t. One moment there’s some good news, the next there’s some tragic news. It’s a rollercoaster. Up and down. Fast and slow. Exhilarating and frightening. Yesterday we received the heart breaking news that Lisa’s dad, who has been unwell for a long time now, most probably has a tumour that is life threatening. The prognosis is not good. A Zoom call is not good for that conversation. Frightening and devastating. Our emotions are on the rollercoaster. How do you process these things? How do we hold these things? How do we find a way through these things? How do we survive on the rollercoaster that is life? Job said that he had only survived by the skin of his teeth (Job 19:20). And sometimes it feels like that for us too. Perhaps we can do what Job chose to do: to live our story in the far bigger and far better story of God’s great love. To trust that God has it, however much we can’t see it. To trust that God has and holds our loved ones. To trust that God is at work even in the ruins: that God brings transformation is ways we might never know or understand.. Life is a rollercoaster. It is. But there is a God in heaven…

Crisis

It’s been a privilege being a Chaplain at East Surrey Hospital over the last year. It’s been a year of crisis. And one of the things that’s been lovely is to be able visit people and pray with them when others have been unable to because of the pandemic. To be able to read the Bible to, and pray with a friend of thirty years only a few days bef9re she died, when the family were not allowed in the hospital, was a privilege for me and a blessing to them. When I had my own visit to A&E as a patient, Lisa was comforted by the knowledge that if I had been admitted, the Chaplains would have been at my bedside, reading the Bible and praying when she could not. And I know it would have brought great comfort to me too. I have also had the privilege of praying with the Emergency Department and Intensive Care Unit at the beginning of their shifts.. The Chaplains have been doing it every shift change. One of us is there, to pray and, if it’s helpful, to chat with staff. I went yesterday morning at 7am to the ED and 7.30am to the ICU. A crisis brings us together doesn’t it? A crisis brings out the best in us doesn’t it? A crisis makes us stop and think about what’s really important and what’s not. It’s been great to see how the nation has pulled together in the last months to help and support those who are really struggling and to protect the most vulnerable. With the successful role out of the vaccines perhaps the crisis is over. With the opening of shops, hairdressers and gyms, perhaps the crisis is over. And, perhaps because we are beginning to believe that the crisis is over, we don’t feel the need to pray anymore. Yesterday was the last day the Chaplains will visit the ICU at the beginning of a shift to pray. We’ll still be available 24/7, but the crisis is over. so…we don’t need God anymore. God is supposed to be there to make things right. Maybe that is God’s job: to fix the stuff we don’t think we can fix! And maybe God does do that, sometimes. So, in a crisis we need God…to fix it. But, maybe it’s not God’s job, not all the time. Perhaps it’s not God’s job at all. Some people, good people, people we loved and cared for, died during this pandemic. Isn’t God supposed to stop that kind of thing when we pray, when we’re in a crisis? Maybe. It seems to me that the story of the bible is that God does indeed sometimes intervene in a crisis and that he does so, sometimes, because people pray. But he doesn’t always do that. And he never promises to as far as I can tell. Actually his promise, rather than that he will be with us in a crisis to fix it, is that he is with us always. Always. Crisis or no crisis, he is present. Isn’t that better? That God is with s always, whatever is going on? Probably! Perhaps, rather than just fixing things that might go wrong again, God does something far better. Something far, far better. For God holds us through all things. He keeps us through all things. He loves us in all things. And, one day, one fine day, he will make all thigs right. All things. And then we’ll never be in crisis again!

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?