Where is God?

It’s a question we often ask I expect: where is God? Often it’s hard to know. And it’s often equally as hard to now what he’s doing. Or at least it is for me! If I’m honest, I find it hard to answer these questions. We like to think we know. We like to tell others what God is doing. We like to confidently assert how God is active, although more usually in someone else’s life rather than out own. We like to do it when we gather together for worship. And, sometimes, maybe we do know what God is doing and where he is doing it. I’m wondering if I’ve seen it in the last couple of weeks myself. We’ve just bought a house! We had one a long time ago but sold it when we were convinced that was what God was leading us to do. We gave the money away, to the church! Now we have to think about where we will live when ministry in the church comes to an end. Which it will, one day. So…we’ve bought a house. It’s only possible because mum died. And mum only had a house because dad died. Funny how God works. And here we are, buying a house, a house that we can’t actually afford to live in. We’ll have to wait and hope in order to live in our house. And I’m wondering if we’ve done the right thing: we’ve taken on a big debt and everything has to go to plan in order for it to work - tenants, interest rates, pensions…But here’s the thing: it may be true that God is at work. And here’s why I say that. We weren’t read to buy a house. We only went looking because my mother-in-law was with us over Christmas and she likes looking at houses. So we booked a few viewings and looked at some houses. We were the first to view one house. We really liked it but didn’t think we had a realistic chance of buying it. But, reckoning we had nothing to lose by putting in an offer, we put in an offer (even though we didn’t know if we could get a mortgage at this stage). We pointed out that we had no chain and could wait because we didn’t actually need to move in! To our great surprise, our offer was accepted. All we needed then was the mortgage! We got that in less than two weeks. So, all of a sudden we bought a house! It also turns out that the family selling the house are moving in with his parents and buying a house together, so there are in fact two houses to sell. But that house sold to first time buyers and the house they are all moving into is vacant possession - which means there is no chain in the whole process! It’s not supposed to be that easy is it? And for us, because of my age, time could have been critical in being offered a mortgage. And it’s left me wondering what God has been doing. Within two weeks of looking at the house, when we weren’t really looking seriously because we hadn’t really thought about the whole thing, or expecting much to happen, we’ve bought a house. I’ve come to the conclusion that God has been kind to us and has been at work in ways that we weren’t aware of. This house is going to cost us everything we’ve got. But perhaps God has been at work. And at this time, in this process, maybe we really have been able to see where God is and what he’s doing. I think so.

2022

Is is to late to wish you a Happy New Year? Sorry if it is. Actually, I have hesitated to wish people a Happy New Year this year. Maybe it’s because the experience of the last two years as been, well, anything but happy. In our family three parents have died in the last two years. Been a bit challenging. And other things have happened too, like getting ill from COVID! We’ve had our good moments too. We had a lovely, if different wedding. We’ve been on a fabulous holiday to Scotland. It’s not been all bad by any means. And I know others have suffered far more than me or my family. But to wish you a Happy New Year seems, well, perhaps slightly inappropriate in some way. We’re all hoping for a better year in 2022 that’s for sure. Just last evening in my Life Group we talked about our hopes for 2022. We sort of agreed we’d like it to be on a bit more of an even keel, less starting and stopping, waiting and guessing. But here’s the thing that struck me: life has always been like this hasn’t it? Maybe not in the details of our experiences of the last two years, but it’s always been unpredictable in some sense. And we stand with those who have gone before us who have found the very same thing. We go from things being great to things being tragic, from things going as we would like to things going wrong, from life following our plan to life being completely off the plan. If you read the Psalms you will see this is how the people of Israel found life to be too. Take Psalms 136 and 137. Psalm 136 remembers God’s great acts in creation and among his people. It is a song of praise. It rejoices in God. But it’s followed by Psalm 137 which begins: “By the rivers of Babylon we sat down and wept,” and asks how God’s people can sing songs in a foreign land? Quite a contrast don’t you think. The point about the Psalms is that they reflect the way life really is: moments of joy and moments of pain; moments of praise and moments of huge questions. What is really important, and certainly some of what the Psalms teach us, is that the experience of real life is held in the bigger story of God. Which is still deeply and profoundly true for us. It’s one reason why we would do well to engage with the Psalms (and why we will be). The truth behind the Psalms, the bigger story of God, reminds us that we are held, in everything, in God’s magnificent love. We don’t know wat 2022 will bring. But we do know that God is with us and will be with us whatever happens. So, in the light of that, perhaps I can wish you a Happy New Year, one in which God is and will be present. And one in which, perhaps we might experience his love and his presence as we navigate our way through it singing our songs to him.

Busy

So I didn’t write a blog until today because I have been busy. No really I have. Carol services, extra time at the hospital because people are unwell, planning for the next services, putting the church back to rights after various activities. It all adds up and time disappears. Last night it dawned on me that although I’ve bought some gifts to give, I haven’t left myself any time t wrap them. Especially now I’m doing extra shifts at the hospital to cover for those who can’t make it in. It’s all good stuff, all important things to do, but they all take time. And then I remembered I hadn’t written a blog this week. So now I’m squeezing this into the small window between being out this morning and doing a visit this afternoon. Still have no idea when I might wrap presents! If I’m not careful I’ll miss Christmas. And I’ll miss it because I’m busy! Which it sees to me is what some people do. They miss Christmas because they are busy. They are busy thinking of all the things they have to do, and then doing them, that they have no time for the thing itself. I have a feeling that that’s what happened on the night of the first Christmas too. The Jews were waiting for the Messiah. They knew he was coming. They desperately wanted him to come. But they were so busy thinking about it, they missed it when it happened. It didn’t help they had the wrong idea about what the Messiah would look like and what he’d do, but they missed him anyway. It didn’t help that when they saw him they decided he didn’t fit their expectations, but they still missed him. Even when he was there right in front of them, they missed it. And I maybe guilty of the very same thing. I get busy. I have thoughts about how Christmas will look and the things I need to do. And if I’m not careful, I miss it. It is a sobering thought that even though he’s right here in front of me, I can still miss him. Even though he’s in all the carols I sing, all the readings I hear, all the talks I prepare…I can still miss him because I’m too busy. God wasn’t too busy to make the first Christmas a reality. And God isn’t too busy to come to me now. He isn’t too busy to draw close and be in all the carols, the readings and the talks. He isn’t too busy to welcome me when I come to him. Maybe that’s the good news of Christmas this year: in the business, God isn’t too busy to come to me again and welcome me into his great and magnificent love. And I don’t want to miss that. Not for anything.

Change

I don’t like change. I’m a plodder as I’ve said. Change is hard for me. I didn’t like it when I had to be in a new class at school. I didn’t like it when the plans of the day changed. I’m a creature of habit. Being the leader is hard because things change all the time. People come and people go. Volunteers come and volunteers go. Things change. people change jobs. People change churches. Commitments change. Families change. I’ve just been through a process of change and the truth be told, I’ve had some sleepless nights waking to wonder if making a change is a good thing or not. And it’s not been easy because it’s been so public. After all, not many people have to ask a congregation for permission to make a change and endure a vote on it! We’ve been living in a time of unprecedented change. The last couple of years has been change upon change upon change. One set of new rules followed by another by another. And just when things seemed to be returning to normal, we’re now plunged once again into a change of the rules. We’ve had to organise alternative plans for the Carol Services in case things change again! This afternoon I was going to meet with my supervision group face to face for the first time in nearly two years, but now we’re doing it over Zoom…again! And the worst bit is I won’t get any Stollen Bread, which I love. Yesterday I was going to meet up with the Luke’s boys in London. It’s 35 years since we graduated from St. Luke’s, Exeter University so it would have been great to catch up with them. But I didn’t go because things have changed and I didn’t want to take the risk with the busy Christmas week coming up. I don’t like change. I don’t do it well. But change happens. And change can be good. Sometimes we need change. Sometimes I need change. But somethings don’t change. And that’s good too. Really good in fact: “I the Lord, do not change.” (Malachi 3:6). That’s really good news. In all that changes, God changes not. God is still God, whatever happens. God is still God, whatever changes. God is still as loving, still as compassionate, God is still as close and still as interested in me as he’s ever been. And that is good news. really good news. And the next part of the verse is equally good. “…therefore, you, O children of Jacob are not consumed.” (ESV) We are not consumed because God doesn’t change! The truth of the God who doesn’t change is that he holds me in all that changes around me. Whatever happens, whatever changes, good or bad, God has me. And his love for me is as strong and as close as it’s ever been. And it will not change. And I thank God for that. Just one last thing. I usually write these blogs on Tuesday. But today is Thursday. Which is a change about which I am cross with myself but because I got busy on Tuesday and forgot. But God doesn’t change and he still loves me!

Silence

Mostly I hate silence. Mostly for me silence is a negative thing. When you prepare a talk, give and talk and then all you get is silence…it‘s difficult. My maybe faulty assumption is that people would say if they like it, so if they don’t say anything it means they didn’t. Sending out emails only to be met with the silence of no responses is…difficult. I find silence difficult. Perhaps it has something to do with my childhood experiences, although I’m not sure I’d be able to tell you why. Oddly though I’ve learnt to sit with silence. The first time I ever took myself off on retreat, the silence was deafening! I arrived, only to realise it was me and my books…for the next five days! Sounds idyllic to some of you I’m sure. But at the time I wasn’t ready for the silence. Over time I’ve learnt how to manage my way through times of silence and value them. I don’t always find it easy. But I’ve found silence gives me space and space is something that can be creative. At least for me. Some of the time! To write a talk, I need space. I need silence. I need to wrestle. I need to formulate what’s in my mind. God it seems is often silent. I suspect one of the mistakes we make is to read the Bible and think everything happens immediately. That one story follows on from another. That there is no silence. Turns out there’s about four hundred years between the end of the Old testament and the beginning of the New Testament. Four hundred years. Four hundred years when apparently God is silent. If we’d been alive then, we’d have lived in the time of God’s silence. I wonder how we’d have got on? After four hundred years of silence, God speaks. He speaks to Joseph through an angel to tell him that the child in Mary is God’s son and that he is to take Mary as his wife (Matthew ch. 1). Joseph says nothing according to Matthew’s account. Nothing. Joseph is silent. In fact, according to the gospels Joseph never says anything, ever. Certainly nothing that makes it into the Bible. I do struggle with God’s silence. Why doesn’t he speak? Why doesn’t he make things more clear to me? Why doesn’t he answer my questions? And then I wonder: if God did speak to me what would I do? I suspect I’d have a whole load of questions and challenges. I’m not sure I’d be like Joseph, who heard God speak through an angel, said nothing, but did exactly what God said: he took Mary home to be his wife. And here’s the thing: God does speak. He does speak to me. He speaks through his story, the story of Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus. He speaks through his word, through songs, through his people, through his magnificent creation. He speaks. The silence is deafening! Perhaps I would do well to be more like Joseph: to be the one who is silent and follow God in everything he says. And maybe you would too.

Black Friday

So…did you? Did you do what lots of people seem to do now? Did you manage to bag a bargain on Black Friday? Did you get a great deal? I don’t know about you, but I got multiple emails every day last week reminding me Black Friday was coming. I was bombarded with reminders of the fantastic deals I could get. I was told every day how much time was left until the savings began. And then, on Friday…more emails announcing the day had arrived. Maybe you can get good deals on Black Friday. Maybe you can. Maybe you did. Apparently you have to be careful that your deal is really a deal. I was listening to one analyst talking on the radio saying that some of the deals are not as good as they are made out to be. Apparently, you can better deals at other times of the year according to this analyst. Maybe you got a deal. Maybe you didn’t. Jim Elliot knew he had a great deal. In 1956, when he was 29 years old, Jim Elliot went as a missionary to the Acua people (now called the Waondani people) in Ecuador. There had been years of planning, but Jim and a few others wanted to tell them the truth about Jesus. The Acua had killed all other foreigners who had attempted to make contact with them, but it appeared that Jim and the other missionaries were now getting a response. One morning when two Acua women appeared across the river, it seemed something was about to happen. Jim and his colleague Pete jumped into the river to meet the women, but then heard a terrifying cry behind them. They turned to see Acua warriors with their spears ready to attack them. Five missionaries died that day, killed by Acua spears. Jim Elliot had written in his diary: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” He based that on the truth of another Black Friday. We call it Good Friday, although at the time it felt black to everyone who had followed Jesus. This Black Friday wasn’t followed by emails about more deals. There was only one deal: he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose. Good Friday is followed instead by Easter Day and the truth of God, that his death brings us life. That’s a great deal. The best in fact. And to give your life to Jesus Christ, is to give what you cannot keep to gain what you cannot lose. The truth is you cannot keep your life. One day you will die. The offer of the cross is that you can give to God what cannot keep and gain what you cannot lose: the promise of his everlasting love and life with him now, and for eternity. Looking for good deals is one thing. But missing the greatest deal of all is another entirely. Perhaps Black Friday can remind us of the greatest deal. After Jim Elliot was killed, his wife and others went back to the Acua people, and in time many of them became followers of Christ. They proved Jim to be right: he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose. And it’s still true. The deal is still on the table.

Unknown

One of my favourite “Christian” jokes is the one about he man who wanted God to save him from the flood. Sitting up a tree with the flood water raging beneath, he prayed and asked God to save him. As he sat in the tree, some people drifted by sitting on a piece of wood. “Jump on,” they shouted. “You can come with is to safety.” “No,” he replied. “God is going to save me!” And he stayed in the tree. Some time later rescuers in a boat found him. “Get in the boat and we’ll take you safety,” they shouted. “No thanks,” he shouted back. “God is going to rescue me!” And he stayed in the tree. A little later a helicopter hovered over him and winched down a rope. “Grab the rope and we’ll fly you to safety. ”No,” he waved back. “God is going to save me!” He drowned. And when he saw God he asked, “Hey God, why didn’t you save me?” God answered, “I tried. I sent a piece of wood, a boat and a helicopter, but you refused to get out of the tree.” Sometimes perhaps we don’t know what help we really need. Last week one of the chaplains responded to a call to visit a patient. Expecting to be confronted with a patient who wanted some kind of spiritual help, he was met with a question: “Does this line come from Shakespeare’s Macbeth?” That’s right, this patient asked to see a chaplain so they could ask if the line from a poem they had was from Shakespeare’s play Macbeth! Well, this patient was lucky because my colleague looked it up on his mobile phone. Perhaps this patient had the rest of life completely sorted and talking about the end of their life really wasn’t important…but perhaps too it reflects that we sometimes don’t know what help we really need. When I was training as a counsellor we learnt about the Johari Window. The Johari Window reflects the truth that there are four states of self awareness. There are things that I don’t know about me and neither do you. There are some things you know about me that I don’t. There are things I know about me that you don’t. And then there are things about me that both you and I know. The point is that there are things about me that I don’t know. And there are things about you that you don’t know. And there are things about us that none of us know. The part that you know about me but I don’t, is called my blind spot: I can’t see it. The part that neither of us know is called the unknown. The truth that I wrestle with is that there things about me that I don’t know and I am not aware of. There really are. Which is a little scary. The good news is that God knows me fully, even to the point of knowing the number of hairs on my head (Luke 12:7). And he loves me because he loves me because he loves me…Perhaps I would do well to admit there are things about me I don’t know, and trust myself to the one who holds me in his great and magnificent love. And perhaps you would do well to do the same.

Success

What is success I wonder? Everyone seems to be asking about it following the end of COP26. Was it successful? Well…was it? I’m not sure I can answer that question. I’m not sure I’m qualified. I’m not sure I know enough about either climate change itself, or what the outcome of the conference actually was. There are some of course, who see COP26 as a resounding success. Maybe that’s because they got what they wanted. Or maybe because others didn’t get what they wanted. And there are others of course, who think COP26 was not a success because it didn’t go far enough. They didn’t get what they wanted while others perhaps, did. The “was it a success” question is beautifully illustrated by the last minute changes to the final statement that came out and how it has been reported: the Glasgow pact was “watered down” and changed from stating that the use of coal would be “phased out” to stating it would be “phased down”. Whether this was a success depends on your perspective. And by who measures it. We talk about “being a success” in whatever you do. But who decides? Who decides whether or not you have been a success at whatever you do? And on what basis do they decide? My best guess is we all want to be a success at whatever we do don’t we? None of us would set out to be a failure I don’t think! What is a successful life anyway? Who measures it? Why? How? Maybe my problem with thinking about success is that my natural disposition is to think I’m a failure more than I’m a success. I don’t like people measuring me for success because they are more likely to declare I’m not. To be honest I’ve got to the point in life where I don’t want to put myself in the place where someone can tell me I failed! I’ve done all the exams and tests I want to do thank you! Some of you might say that I’m missing out and that aiming at things and failing is part of how we learn and grow. I agree. There’s always a balance. We don’t like talking about success in churches. If we do, it seems to me it’s always about numbers which leads us to compare ourselves to each other. Who is more successful? Oh…well the church with the most people of course! Really? Maybe. Maybe not. I think the problem is that it’s hard to measure success about spiritual things isn’t it? How do we do that? Ministers talk about success in ministry. No, really they do. If you go to conferences they talk up “success stories”. They don’t call them that, but that’s what they are: dramatic conversions; lots of conversions; growing numbers…There’s nothing wrong with any of those things, but I’m wondering if it’s really a good way to measure success. You don’t hear so much about plodding on in the hum drum of how life and ministry really is most of the time - which may be the best form of success there is. Maybe. Is this blog a success? Not my place to say but I’m sure you have an opinion. Although if you measure it by the number of likes and compare it to the celebrities blogs, I am a resounding failure! Am I a success in your eyes? I’d like to be, but we might understand it differently. I’m wondering f the best it can be, is for me to follow God as best I know how, using all the gifts, talents and abilities he’s bestowed up me for as long as I have breath. And then one day I’ll hear the words: “Well done good and faithful servant. Enter the joy of your Lord.” That will be success. Success of the very best kind indeed.

Promises

Last week I wrote about the CoP test I did to become a member of the BACP. Turns out it’s not the only COP Test that’s going on right now. The BACP CoP test stands for Certificate of Proficiency test. I had to prove to the BACP that I am a competent counsellor. Someone designed a test you can take on a computer that apparently proves someone as competent or not! Apparently I am. The promise that goes with the test is that if you pass, you can become a Registered Member of the British Association of Counselling and Psychotherapy. Now, because I am competent, I can access all the training, resources and help the BACP gives. They will help me find clients should I wish them to. And they give me credibility. After all, if you were looking for a counsellor, wouldn’t you want to know they are in some way competent? I also have to be accountable to the BACP. They can, and will, audit me. I have to keep up with CPD - continuous professional development. When I passed the CoP I had to sign up to this. I had to promise I would keep up with 30 hours of CPD a year. They promise things to me and in return I promise things to them. We have to keep our promises to each other. The other COP is COP26. You’ve probably heard about it. It the 26th Conference of Parties. It’s being held in Glasgow and according to the hype, it might be the last chance we have of saving our planet. It’s about climate change and trying to prevent it. It is full of promises. Nations have already made huge promises to reduce their carbon emissions. The UK has done just that. And we’ve already promised £290 million to help poorer nations tackle the impact of climate change. All we have to do now is deliver on that promise. And all the other ones we make. And that’s all any nation has to do as a result of COP26: deliver on their promises. And there’s the rub. It all sounds great. But making the promises is the easy bit. Keeping them will be the challenge. Barak Obama spoke at the conference yesterday. He urged young people to carry on being angry about climate change. He stated that his generation hadn’t done enough to combat climate change. He said we’re not far enough along the road of the promises already made in reducing carbon emissions. He may well be right. The thing is though, as one young person pointed out after his speech, back in 2009 Barak Obama, when president of the USA, promised $1 billion towards fighting climate change…and failed to deliver it. Evidently he didn’t keep his promise. Delivering on the promises made at COP26 will be anything but easy. But then delivering on promising to do 30 hours of CPD a year isn’t easy, believe me. I have to make an effort to do that. A real effort. And isn’t that always the way with promises? I once promised to follow God as best I know how. I’ve discovered that’s really hard too. It’s not that my intentions are faulty. They’re not. I really do want to follow God as best I can. But I don’t always keep my promises. God, it turns out, also makes promises. And it seems he is quite good at keeping his. He has promised that whenever we turn to him, he is waiting. The story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15) teaches us that. COP26 is a out saving the planet. And that’s a good thing. But one day, there’ll be a new heaven and a new earth. That’s a promise! The promises made at COP26 are important. And they need to delivered on. Maybe though, some promises go far beyond promises made in Glasgow in 2021. One day we will have to account for our promises. The good news is that we can trust God to keep his.

Never ending..

Fairy tales always end with the line: “And the all lived happily ever after.” It might be true in a fairy tale, but it’s not true in real life is it? Blaise Pascal (of Pascal’s triangle fame if you remember secondary school maths) said that man’s main aim in life, the thing everyone seeks, is to be happy. He said everything we do, we do because with think it will make us happy. He also said that it doesn’t work and so we do lots of things to try and distract us from that truth! Our pursuit of happiness though is never ending. My latest achievement, if that’s what it is, is becoming a Registered Member of the BACP (British Association of Counselling and Psychotherapy). Thanks you! I had to take a test to qualify. It took the BACP five weeks to tell me I had passed. I can now use their logo on my headed paper and put more letters after my name. Turns out I’ve got quite a few now. Mostly, people won’t understand what the letters mean, and neither will they care that much. But it makes me feel good. Makes me feel like I’ve achieved and done well. I remember when I finished my O Levels (that dates me) I decided I was done with exams! Two years later I took my A Levels. Then I went to university and got a degree. Ten years later I trained for Baptist Ministry and spent three years at Spurgeon’s College. Twenty years later (I’m starting to sound old now) I went to train as a Counsellor and spent another three years in college. On the last day of our training at Waverley Abbey College we sat in circle and said what we were leaving behind and what we were taking away (a very counsellor sort of thing). I said I was leaving behind studying. I wasn’t going to do any more. Never. And yet I just took a test to become a member of the BACP. And I have to do CPD (Continuous Professional Development). And I have to keep a CPD log. And, for the Hospice where I do my counselling, I have to do all sorts of training for which I have to take a test. And I do that for my Chaplaincy role too. And I do that for my role as Minister too! It’s never ending. And…oddly, I do it all to make me happy. To make me feel valuable. To give me credibility. Here’s the thing: it’s tiring! I can hardly keep up with myself. It’s even tiring writing about it. God doesn’t want me to be like that. He really doesn’t. It’s not that I shouldn’t do all these things. Most of them I should do! The problem comes in how I understand what I’m doing. At least that’s what Ecclesiastes says. It can be a chasing after the wind. Everything can be. It’s like trying to catch the wind. You can’t. If I see all these things as a means to my happiness, it’s never ending and it won’t work. But Ecclesiastes invites us to see these things in a different way. These things are not given to make me happy and they cannot, in themselves make me happy. They are generous gifts from a loving God (Ecclesiastes chapter 2). And God’s gifts are to be enjoyed for what they are: gifts! And here’s the thing: God’s giving is never ending. He is uncontrollably generous and endlessly loving. My problem is that I see everything from my point of view. I would do well to listen to the Teacher in Ecclesiastes and begin to see tings from a different point of view: the never ending generosity of God. That’s where happiness lies.

Home

I knew it was coming. Actually I’ve known it’s been coming for more than a year now. It’s been coming ever since mum died. It’s a lovely story in many ways, but I knew it was coming to an end. When my dad died in 1970 he had just (literally about three months before) taken out a life insurance policy. Being a vicar with no home of his own and no money to speak of, his death meant we had to move out of the vicarage with nowhere to go! The pay out on his life insurance policy bought us a house - literally to the penny. Mum bought a house where she had grown up and where we then grew up, Wimborne. On Saturday I went to the bungalow she had retired to, for the last time. It’s now sold. It’s now empty. It’s not home anymore. In many ways it’s not been home for a long time. I left Wimborne for university in 1982. I never lived in the bungalow, but it’s the place I grew up, Wimborne. And now the home that was there, is no longer there. I’m not particularly sentimental, but there’s something about not being able to “go home” that I will miss. That I do miss. Already. Thing is, as a follower of Christ I know that Wimborne never really was my home. And was never meant to be my home. Well…not really. Not in the long run. Not in eternal terms. And that’s the challenge. It really is. Jesus put it this way: “Don’t store up for yourselves treasures on earth…But store up for yourselves treasure in heaven... For where your treasure is there will be your heart also.” (Mat. 6 v19-21) We might think this is only about money. Maybe it is about money. But I also think it’s about where you think your real home is. A big part of my heart is in Wimborne. I want to go back there. I will visit. I would live to live there. And there’s noting wrong with being like that. Except for one thing: it’s not my real home. Never has been. Never will be. And if I spend all my time and energy trying to make it my real home, I’m missing out on the real thing. The day has come when it’s my home no longer. One day, this earth will cease to be my home, wherever I happen to be living. One day, one fine day, I will be with my father and my Father in my real home, a home where moth and vermin cannot destroy and thieves cannot steal (Jesus’ words). One day, one fine day I will be welcomed by my loving heavenly father who will rise to meet me and say: “Welcome home, Ian. I have a room prepared just for you. Welcome to your real home.” Right now I live in the tension between my home, and my real home. As I stood in the bungalow for the last time, ready to take way the sofa and the chair to give to a friend, I was faced with the truth that it was not my home. The truth that this world is not my home. And the bigger and far better truth that my real home waits for me. And the truth that one day, one fine day, I will be home.

Deceit

There’s a new film out called “Phantom of the Open” staring Mark Rylance. The film is about the worst golfer in Open history, who it turns out, wasn’t a golfer at all. He was a hoaxer. He was a liar. He was full of deceit. But, in 1976 he fooled the authorities of the British Open by declaring he was professional golfer. Maurice Flitcroft was, in fact a crane driver from Borrow-in-Furness in Cumbria. And he had never played golf. Never. Not once. He was inspired by an American postal worker who, in 1965, had entered the Open and posted a score 221 for two rounds. To put that in perspective, professional golfers playing the British Open will post a two round score of around 135-140! He wasn’t good. Maurice Flitcroft had to paly in a qualifying event in order to play in the Open proper. Having never actually played golf, he got a book by the famous Peter Alliss to learn how to play! It was a flawed tactic. He posted a score of 121, 49 shots over par. It was the worst ever score recorded in Open history. He tried again the next year and because he was so bad and not a professional golfer, he wasn’t allowed in. He changed his name and over the next few years tried under a number of different names and disguises. He was never allowed to play in the British Open. He wasn’t a golfer, he was a liar. He was so bad at golf, that after just two shots of his qualifying round the other players in his group asked the Open officials to check him out! It might sound funny now. We might think of Maurice Flitcroft and say well done for trying. But the truth is, he lied. And he continued to lie for years. He was full of deceit. He wasn’t a professional golfer. He wasn’t even a good amateur golfer. He wasn’t even as good as me! I, of course, would never do what Maurice Flitcroft did. But I am capable of deceit. Maurice Flitcroft thought he was actually good at golf according to one friend. I am capable of that, of thinking I’m better than I am: a better husband, father, minister, colleague, friend, counsellor, chaplain. I am quite capable of living in deceit about myself. I don’t always tell the truth, not the whole truth. I can lie by what I don’t say. or by what I imply. I don’t always do what I say I will. What I say with my mouth doesn’t always match what I’m thinking. I can sing in church but not mean the words. I know stuff about me that nobody else knows. The Bible says that God hates liars: “The Lord hates those who tell lies but is pleased with those who keep their promises.” I think I might have some work to do. And it might be something to do with the truth: the truth about myself and the truth about God. God hates liars, but he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love (Psalm 103). He is always ready to forgive and always waiting with open arms when we come to him. I might choose to watch the film “Phantom of the Opera” because it might be good for me. It might remind that it is, ultimately only the truth that sets me free (John 8:32).

Holiday take 2

It’s always more fun writing a blog about a holiday before you go than when you get back it turns out! But here I am, dutifully writing a blog. I could go on and on about how great the holiday was (and it was), but it seems a little unfair, because, as I said before, not everyone gets to do what I have been able to do. What I think I began to realise on this holiday is that I’m better at taking delight in the small things and not the “big” things a holiday sometimes brings. Here’s what I mean by that. I took great delight in spotting birds that I haven’t seen before. I used to be a keen bird watcher when I was younger and I know some of the more familiar birds. But there were birds I didn’t recognise. Stupidly, I didn’t take my binoculars (worried about how much luggage we already had to be honest) so I was often gazing from a distance. I bought a bird book to help me out and discovered I had seen Stone Chats, Rock Pipits, Kittiwakes, Great Black Backed Gulls, a Razorbill, Gannets, possibly a Sanderling and, to cap it all, a White Tailed Eagle! You can’t beat that. Oh, except that we saw a porpoise and red deer. I would have been happy with that. But we saw the most majestic mountains, valleys and lochs. I could get lost in that world. It is magnificent. We’ve already booked to go back next year!! And here’s the thing: it speaks, it shouts, it bellows of a God who is endlessly good, uncontrollably generous and irrationally loving, who just loves to give. When I’m there I can see it, feel it and embrace it. Fantastic. But now I’m home? I’ve bumped into all the challenges that life brings. I’ve heard the stories of some of the things people I know are facing. On Saturday we’ll sit as a family, thousands of miles away from other family, and watch on a live stream, the funeral of Lisa’s dad because we can’t be there with them. That’s the reality. Holidays comes to an end, however good they are. The reality of life sticks around and reminds us of things we’d rather forget. What I most want to remember though, is that both of these things are true: God is endlessly good, uncontrollably generous and irrationally loving and, life is hard, sometimes harsh and cruel. If that was the whole truth it wouldn’t be great would it? The whole truth tells me that one day, one fine day, I will see the beauty of God in all his fullness. And that will be better by far than any holiday!

Holiday

This will be the last blog I write for a few weeks because I’m going on holiday! And I am very much looking forward to having a break. It’s been a challenging time and to get away will hopefully be an opportunity to catch up with myself! Holidays it seems to me are a privilege. My best guess is that most of the world never gets a holiday. It’s a thing strangely reserved for a few people who have the means and the opportunity. Put it this way, there are no holidays in a refugee camp. There are no holidays for those stranded in Afghanistan. There are no holidays for many, many slaves around the world today. There are no holidays for the poor. And yet we think of a holiday as a right. And as a status symbol. Where we choose to go on holiday says something about us and maybe that’s what we want. We want to make a statement about who we are by telling others where we went on holiday. It sounds like I don’t like holidays. That’s not true. I do. Mostly I don’t want to come home from holidays! But I recognise that it’s a privilege that most of the world doesn’t have. And the thing about holidays is they are not the real world. Whether I like it or not, I have to come home from a holiday. I have to come back to the world as it really is. And that’s the world in which I actually live. Lisa will tell me that when I’m on holiday, I can be quite a different person than when I’m in the grind of daily life. That’s not a criticism, it’s a statement of fact. And, my best guess is that it will be true for many of us. When I’m on holiday I’m more relaxed. I am! Little things don’t irritate me in the way normally do. Sad, but true! And when I reflect on the question the minister asked a couple of weeks ago in his sermon, “how would your life be different if it was Jesus living it with his heart?” I think I might be more like I’m when I’m on holiday: less stressed, more relaxed, more able to cope. Which begs the question: why am I not more like that anyway? Jesus lived in the full and deep knowledge of his Father’s love. He knew love without limits. Perhaps for me to be more like I am when I’m on holiday in everyday life, it would be good for me to live more fully in the great, deep and magnificent love of God. Just like Jesus.

Longleat

You may have seen the pictures. Apparently some went on Facebook (or something similar)! On Saturday we went to Longleat Safari Park. It was originally planned for earlier in the year for Zac’s birthday, but it got postponed. So we went on Saturday for Meg’s birthday. Great when it works like that! Whatever you think about animals in zoos (and there are some positives), it is incredible to be so close to so many animals you otherwise would never see. We began by taking the safari. Slightly nervously we chose to go through the monkey enclosure. They didn’t disappoint. Well not us anyway. But the guys in the car in front had no idea what happened to their truck! First the monkeys ripped off the handle of his open back cover! And they then proceeded to take off all the letters and numbers from his rear number plate! Happily clicking away with their camera, taking pictures of all the cute little monkeys all over the truck, they had no idea of the devastation being wrought in places they couldn’t see! Mind you, the monkeys weren’t the only ones entertained by their antics! We saw some Oryx’s extinct in the wild, but safe in the park. We saw animals we didn’t even recognise as animals: some kind of stick insect that looked so much like a leaf it was hard to know if you really were looking at an insect or a leaf. Brightly coloured parrots who climbed all over you to get the nectar from the pot in your hand pulled in the crowds. But what we all wanted to see were the big animals: the lions, tigers, gorillas, cheetahs and hippos. And we did. Just. They don’t always make themselves easy to see! We heard some extraordinary facts about these animals: did you know for example that the hippo is by far the most dangerous, killing around a thousand people each year? Or that more people are killed by corks (yes…corks) than by gorillas? I couldn’t help wondering as I gazed at the extraordinary array of creatures from tiny to huge, from innocuous to dangerous, from ugly to cute, how did this all become the world around us? These animals all have their habits, behaviours, habitats and diets all unique to them. They can’t survive without them. And they do it all out of instinct. They don’t read a script. Nobody tells them how to be. They just are. And they just do. And I wondering how that is possible? If it all began by chance the odds are extraordinarily low. Extraordinarily low. Ridiculously low. It’s less than 1057800 (which is 1 with 57800 zeros after it!) To give you some idea of the size of the number there are 1080 in the universe! If, on the other hand it all began from the hand of loving creator it speaks of one who is endlessly good, uncontrollably generous and irrationally loving. And I know which one I go with.

Weddings

I went to a wedding yesterday. I had to I was the minster leading the service and the person signing the new Marriage Schedule as ii’s now called. Gone are the days of multiple books and registers where everyone had to sign four times. Now it’s one Marriage Schedule and everyone signs once! And it’s better than that for me because now I don’t have to fill out all the books and certificates either. The Marriage Schedule is printed by the Registry Office so all I have to do is sign like everyone else. Well almost, but I have to do a lot less than I once did. Anyway, even though I had to be there, it was a lovely day. What was really lovely was to see two people who had waited until they could have their wedding they way they wanted it, so this was the third date they’d set for it (July 2020, April 2021 and then yesterday). To watch them finally get to the day they were to be married was lovely. Really lovely. I do love to see people get married. It is God’s best way. Having been dad and minister at Meg and Justin’s wedding just over a year ago, I think I felt even more the emotion that is found at a wedding. But a thought strikes me: why is it that we wait until something like a wedding to tell people what we think of them? The other place we do this, strangely, is at funerals! In wedding speeches and in a funeral eulogy we say how great someone is, or was. There’s absolutely wrong with that, except that we wait until these moments to say what is in front of us all the time. Maybe some of us do tell those we love what we really think of them at other times. But I can’t thinking, when I hear speeches at weddings that I hope you say that often! And after a eulogy at a funeral I find myself thinking: I hope they said all those tings while the person lived. What I most love about weddings though is the bit where the bride walks down the aisle on the arm of her father looking radiant and being watched by the groom. His face as he watches her approaching the front of the church is filled with joy. It is, it turns out, one of the best pictures in understanding the part of the blessing we sometimes read from Numbers 6: “The Lord make his face to shine upon you…” When the Lord makes his face to shine upon us that’s what is happening: God himself has turned his face to watch his beloved. His heart is filled with great, great joy as he watches one of his children the way the groom’s heart is when he sees his approaching bride. It is a wonderful picture to hold: that God would shine his face upon us. Upon you. And that’s what he does: he looks at us, at you, with a heart filled with great, great joy. It’s a wonderful thing to pray for someone: to ask that God would shine his face upon them and look upon them in his great love. It’s not surprising really that the picture is from a wedding, since a wedding itself reflects the great and magnificent love of God. So, whenever I go to a wedding I am remined that God longs to shine his face upon me and that he looks upon me with great, great joy. May the Lod make his face to shine upon you. Yes you!

Wrestling

I’m writing this blog in Wimborne, Dorset. It’s a lovely place. I’d like to live here again. I grew up here and have fond memories of the place. Funny how memories can be rose tinted. I also have memories of not enjoying life here, or maybe more accurately, not enjoying school when it was too hard, or friendships when they went wrong. You know, the stuff that happens in every life. But, whenever I come back to Wimborne, I feel I’ve come home. I loved my formative years here. I was steeped in my faith here. There were lots of good people here when I was growing up and I’m thankful to them all for the way they lived their lives in front of me and gave me some pathways to walk. Thing is, I’m here today because I know this might the last time I can do what I’m doing. I’m sitting in the kitchen of mum’s bungalow. Mum died just over a year ago and the bungalow has sold. We’re in the process of selling and it takes a little time. At some point in the near future I won’t be able to stay here. So I’ve made what is probably one last visit. And I’m also here to visit mum’s grave. A month ago we held a small graveside service, just the family, and laid mum’s ashes in the ground. She’d be pleased with the plot. She looks over Wimborne, the place she was born and was living in when she died. We laid a headstone to mark her life and her death. I wanted to see it again. What surprises me is that I’ve felt quite strongly about wanting to come and visit. I’m not sure why. I talk to people through my work at St. Catherine’s Hospice all the time about this kind of thing and yet I can’t explain it. And here I am. And when I went to her grave this morning, I felt more emotional than I have at any other time after she suffered a heart attack and then died. I have some thoughts as to why this is so, but I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that I’m wrestling with a whole load of thoughts and emotions. And what I also think I know is that wrestling with thoughts and beliefs is a good thing. I am reading a book titled “Die Wise” at the moment. I’m reading it partly because of my work at St. Catherine’s, partly because I am a minister who takes funerals, but partly too because I am convinced that we don’t wrestle enough with death. And our own death in particular. (If you’re wondering why I’d write a blog like this at all, you’ve probably made my point for me!) In this book, the author, not a Christian, makes a powerful claim: that we would do well to wrestle with the truth of our death. it’s not a morbid thing. It’s about facing the truth and living well in the light of it. I think that’s what the whole book of Ecclesiastes is really about. And the author understands wrestling to mean to dance! Dancing requires a proximity to another, a choreography that makes something meaningful and it strikes me that is a very Christian thought: we live in a fallen world and wrestle with what happens and why it happens in the light of the truth we know about God. When we do that well, it becomes a dance. It becomes a dance of love. It is a dance we learn to dance. It is a dance that embraces life and death. It is a dance we dance on God’s great dance floor. We chose a verse to go on mum’s headstone and we chose it partly because she believed it with her whole heart, and partly because we who are left believe it too: “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21). So, in my wrestling, I’m learning to dance. And to dance is to live and to live well in the truth about my death.

The evil in me

The news from Afghanistan is tragic and distressing. For years we, the West, has pronounced that there is a better way to live and we have tried to help a country find it’s way to a different way of being a nation. Some of that has been for the very best reasons: we really believe there is a better way to live and treat people. Some of that has been for selfish reasons: a stable nation that doesn’t hate us is better for us! Whatever the reasons, we have now decided it is time to withdraw a military presence. It has cost many lives on all sides. It is tragic and distressing. What was supposed to bring change seems to have failed, for now the very regime we had hoped to silence, is back in power with a vengeance. Many more lives are at stake. Some, according to the British Foreign Minister, will not be able to get out in time to save tier lives. When I reflect on it I am truly at a loss as to what to think. I am not directly responsible for what is happening. I am not the cause of the trouble. I am not responsible for the tragedy the Taliban seem set on reaping on those who do not hold their beliefs or values. I can look at them and think they are evil. And, maybe there is truth in that. I can look at them and think I am not capable of anything like what they appear to be responsible for. But, I am reminded of a story I read about a man who had been a prisoner of war in a German concentration camp in World .War II. After the war, at the trial of a man who had been an officer in the camp, the man fainted when his oppressor was brought into the court. Everyone assumed he had fainted because seeing him triggered traumatic memories. But he later explained that when he saw the former concentration camp officer looking dishevelled and untidy being brought into the court, he realised how he was just a human being like himself. And that if one man, in many ways just like himself, was capable of such cruelty and hate, he realised how he too, might be capable of the very same thing. It is an extraordinary challenge to people like me, who might choose to believe only others are capable of evil and that there is no evil in me. It might even cause me to think about how my heart really is. Jeremiah 17:9 shouts at us: “The heart is the most deceitful of all things and desperately wicked. Who knows how bad it is?” (NLT) I have no desire to excuse the evil of others. But I might do well, in such tragic times, to examine my onw heart and ask some hard questions. How’s you heart?

Endings and beginnings

So the 2020 Tokyo Olympics has come to an end. I’m sad because I love to watch it. And there’s a part of me that wishes it could go on on and on and on. I know that’s ridiculous because sport doesn’t work like that. A game is a game. It has a start and it has an ending, otherwise how on earth would you now if you’d won? A race is a race. You start, you race, you finish. Someone wins! But there’s still part of me that doesn’t want it to end. I can be like that in life too. There are some things I don’t want to come to an end. A round of golf when I’m playing well. A holiday that takes me away from the cares and worries of everyday life. My health. Thing is, life isn’t like that. Things come to an end whether I want them to or not. And oddly, that can be a good thing, endings that is. Because sometimes what is really needed is a beginning. And beginnings follow endings. It is perhaps a deep and profound truth that some things have to end before something better can begin. One day, Jesus stunned everyone by saying that he had to die in order for the best to come. Actually he said: “Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies it produces many seeds.” (John 12:24) When Jesus prefaced his words with “Very truly I say” it meant he had something really important to say. And what was important was that for him to bring life to others, he would go to the cross and give up his life. It is a deep, deep truth that out of his death comes our life. And in order for us to live that life, something in us has to die. I don’t think it’s a one off deal either. It is fantastic when a heart turns to God for the first time. There is an ending and there is a beginning. It is the end of one way of living and the beginning of a new way of living. I wonder though how many times in life we might need an ending and a beginning. If I’m honest, there are things about me which I like and don’t want to stop. Habits and behaviours that I think work for me. Some of them may be fine. But some of them may need to stop if I am going to live well in the Kingdom of the Heavens. I wrestle with that! Maybe you do too. Thing is, we might say we believe that God is the God of transformation, and yet be unwilling to bring to an end things which stop that transformation from happening. Which, if we also believe God only has our best interests at heart, doesn’t make much sense. I, for one, can be very fickle. I can desire transformation at the same time as being unwilling to embrace an ending. In the life of faith, beginnings follow endings. And in the life of faith some things have to die for others things to live. Jesus is quite blunt: “Anyone who loves their life will lose it.” (John 12:25) That’s a challenging thought. Perhaps endings are needed for us to live well, to live in a way that means God can bless us. Endings can be hard. But maybe endings bring new beginnings that are better by far.

Remarkable

So, great news today: Great Britain have won the gold medal in eventing for the first time in 49 years! That’s a remarkable achievement. And it’s made all the more remarkable when you hear the story of one of the team who won gold. Laura Collett was competing in her first Olympics, which in itself was remarkable. In 2013 she suffered a heavy fall in which she fractured her spine, shoulder and ribs, punctured a lung and was left blinded in one eye. She was in a coma for six days following the accident in which she was evidently saved by the air jacket she was wearing at the time. To go from being in a coma with those injuries, not knowing if you’ll live, let alone ever ride again, to winning a gold medal at the Olympic Games, is remarkable. It’s a lovely story. And there are other stories of athletes who have overcome incredible odds to win. Some overcome incredible odds, don’t win, but never give up. In 1992 at the Barcelona Olympics, British 400m runner Derek Redmond was in the semi final of the event. Tragically, part way through the race his hamstring tore. For the uninitiated, to tear a hamstring means that you can’t run. Sometimes you can’t even walk. To tear a hamstring during a race is every runner’s nightmare. To tear a hamstring in the semi final of the Olympic 400m race means the end of a dream. Redmond fell to the track in pain and distraught, but he was determined to finish the race he had so hoped to win. He rose to his feet and staggered on around the track, hardly being able to stand. As the crowd rose to their feet to encourage him on, a man leapt over the barrier and ran to Redmond. Track officials tried to stop him fearing him a danger to the athlete. But the man waved them away. He was Derek Redmond’s dad. Recognising that his son was determined to finish the race, and understanding how much it meant to him, he put his arm under his son’s shoulder and the two of the walked the rest of the track to the finish line. They finished the race to the thunderous applause of the crowd. It was a remarkable sight. Sometimes winning is about the courage to get up and go again. Winston Churchill once said: “Never, never, never give up!” When the odds are seemingly against us it is sometimes easy to feel like giving up is the best option. The picture of Derek Redmond’s dad running onto the track and helping his son finish the race, captures a beautiful truth about God: he is the one who is with us, the one who comes to help us even in the toughest and most desperate times in life. He is the one who urges us and helps us finish the race. He is the one who longs for us to reach the finishing line however hard that turns out to be. He is the one who is cheering us on and rejoices like that crowd when we have the courage to keep going and not give up. It is the remarkable truth that God will never leave us or forsake us, simply because he loves us too much.