Anticipation

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

Space

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

Future

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

Plan B

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

Chaos

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

Widow's mite

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

Cheated

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

Fog

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

Furnace

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

Nothing

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

Plodding

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

Ardinlgly

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

Sunday

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

Windy

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

Busy

Today I’m feeling guilty. I should have written this post yesterday. I failed. Maybe you looked for a post yesterday and wondered where it was. I wondered what you might be thinking when, at the end of a day I hadn’t really anticipated, it dawned on me that it was a blog day. Then I got cross with myself. That’s what I do you see, I beat myself up if I think I’ve made a mess of something, or failed in a task. I’ve had therapy too! Still do actually. I have language for it. I understand a least a little of where it comes from and what sustains it. I am a counsellor now too, so I sit with others and help them do what I am trying to do. But still, at the end of yesterday, I was cross and disappointed in myself. To be fair, it was a very busy day and I had to do things I hadn’t anticipated. They all took time and the day slipped away. And here I am the morning after the day before writing a blog that I should have written yesterday. It makes me wonder: is God cross with me? Is God disappointed because I failed to write a blog yesterday? Well, let me put it this way. There is nothing I can do to make God love me more, and there is nothing I can do to make him love me less. He can’t love me anymore today than he loved me yesterday, and he won’t be able to love me anymore tomorrow than he does right now. So, you figure it out! And by the way, that’s not to say that sometimes God is disappointed in my choices or may actions or my words or thoughts. Sometimes I make bad choices, say things I shouldn’t, act in inappropriate ways and God will be disappointed. But it doesn’t make God love me less. He’s disappointed because I hurt myself and others, but his love remains. And, he doesn’t get so busy that he forgets about me. Ever. David tells us in Psalm 139 that we can’t count how many times a day God’s thoughts turn towards us. He says God thinks about us more times a day than there are grains of sand. That’s a lot! And God doesn’t slumber or sleep either (Psalm 121). I may forget because I’m busy, but God is not me. He is never too busy. You may be disappointed in me because I was busy and forgot to write my blog yesterday. I might be disappointed in myself because I was busy and forgot to write my blog yesterday. My best guess is, that if God is in anyway disappointed, it will be because of the way I think about myself, or perhaps they way you think of me. But he wasn’t too busy and he was thinking of me. And he still is right now. And he will be today, whatever the day brings and whatever I might be too busy to do. The truth is, he’s not too busy to love me today.

Prodigals

It happened again this morning. Happens pretty much every Sunday morning. And some days in between, but pretty much every Sunday. I wake in a bit of a panic. Sounds a bit dramatic doesn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m simply being honest. I wake in a panic because I find myself thinking I don’t want to do church today. It’s not that I hate church. I don’t. It’s not that I don’t enjoy being up front, or in this present time, in front of the laptop. Actually I do. I love it! It’s not that I don’t love to preach. I absolutely do. I wake in a panic because, somehow, I think I’m not good enough to do this thing called church. I’m not the person you all think I am you see. However much you think you might know me, you don’t. It’s not that what you know isn’t true. It is, it really is. But it’s not the whole truth. And I am acutely aware of what you don’t know. And, what makes me panic most, is that I know that God knows what you don’t know. And here’s the thing. I’ve told you that I will preach only that of which I am convinced, and that’s what I do. I don’t preach things I’m not convinced about. That doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes say things I’m wondering about. I do. But I won’t say something is true if I’m not convinced of that truth. But, just because I’m convinced of something doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with it. I am convinced that God can't love me any more than he does right now. But sometimes I struggle to believe that. Especially when I wake on a Sunday morning. Usually that’s when I’m struggling the most. It’s when the “tapes” or “scripts” or whatever you want to call them, that I’ve learnt through life are at their most powerful. So I really need to be reminded of what I spoke about this morning. (I have a sneaking feeling it makes God smile you know, when I have to do that: say the very things I am at the same time convinced of, but struggling to live in the truth of. It’s a loving, fatherly smile, one full of love and attention. He’s not laughing at me. He’d never do that.) I really need to be reminded that in my second choice world, whether that’s one of my own making, or one that has been thrust upon me, God is watching, waiting and loving me. And, that he will never reject me when my heart turns again to him. I have to be reminded that he never hates me whatever I do and however much I might hate myself. I have to be reminded that he is always ready to welcome me. Always. And, to those of you who will want me to add that for all that to happen I have come in true repentance, I say, I’m not convinced of that! You may be right, but that’s not what happened in the story Jesus told. At least I don’t think so. The son went home because he figured that was his best option, which is not the same as true repentance. He just knew on which side his bread was buttered! He says pretty much the same thing Pharaoh did when he kept coming to God after each of the plagues. Turned out he wasn’t being completely honest about what was going on. But we’re mostly the same. And, it makes God’s welcome even better, because he meets us even at the point when we’re not completely honest. Which is really good news for people like me. And I’m guessing for people like you too.

Dying

That’s a bit in your face isn’t it? The title of the blog that is. Why would I write about dying? We’d rather avoid it if we could wouldn’t we? Even as Christians! That’s one thing I’ve never really understood if I’m honest. Why is it that Christians talk about longing to go heaven, the great place you can only apparently get to when you die, and yet at the same time try to avoid dying just as much as the next person. If heaven really is so good…? I don’t mean to be flippant. And, honestly I get it, as least at one level. Maybe we don’t talk much about heaven because in truth we simply don’t really think it can be better than what we have here. But then, for some that is far from the truth. Take the slave song “Swing low, sweet chariot.” The point of the song it seems, is to ask for God to come and take them home (heaven) because life on earth is not worth living. It’s asking for a way out. And for some that’s the truth. But not for most of us. Most of us don’t want to die because we’d rather stay here. And we have lots of good reasons to stay: family, friends, loved ones, children, grandchildren, holidays to go on, careers to build, careers to maintain, retirement to enjoy, life still to live, promises to keep, a fiancé to marry, a partner to find, a mission to fulfil, a calling to follow…And because I’m human, that’s how I mostly think. Death is the enemy. It is actually. God thinks so too. Death was never part of God’s creation. It’s the result of the choice to follow evil not love. And, we die! We all know that. And we find it hard, so very hard to live with! So why am I writing about dying? Because yesterday it was right in my face. And in lots of other people’s faces too. I was at East Surrey hospital, standing outside in the cold (and it was cold) with hundreds of staff to remember someone who had died. He was an ambulance driver who died of COVID-19. He died on his 52nd birthday. It was a tragedy. People are heartbroken, his wife and children especially. He was by all accounts a wonderful man: funny, courageous, talented, a man everyone genuinely loved. He was a Christian. People prayed for his healing. I did. Yet he died. I wonder sometimes what God is doing. The little boy in me wept. I wanted to weep as I watched his family, his colleagues, his friends who are devastated. I woke up this morning and realised I had been dreaming of speaking at the service (I was asked to pray yesterday). I was saying that Peter now knew more fully than he had ever known, the magnificent love of God. That he is now more fully alive than he has ever been. And, I believe that with all my heart. And yet I’m angry and confused in equal measure. And his family are feeling their pain far, far more than me. And yet, they too, believe what I believe, which will hold them and keep them in this difficult time. It holds me too. Sorry if I’ve spilled too much angst. It is, of course mixed with faith. Or perhaps, more accurately it is part of faith. Here’s the thing: being human is a struggle between what we can see and what we believe. Dying is inevitable but it is so very, very hard. Life can be so very, very hard. Sometimes, perhaps mostly, we find ourselves wondering what God is doing. Living with faith is living in the tension of what we see and experience, and what we believe. We must hold onto what we believe with all our hearts. We must. When God appears to be doing nothing, we trust him anyway. But we must not deny the pain of things gone wrong, and dying. Turns out God is never so close as to those who mourn.

Compass

So, I had an idea the other day. We were going for our daily exercise and we decided to be a bit more adventurous (all within the rules you understand). So we struck out on a walk not quite knowing the route we would ultimately take. We had some ides, but wanted to go further than last time. Knowing we were going into unexplored territory, I packed bag: a flask of tea (can’t survive anywhere with out that); bag of sweets (for energy); phone (why not?) and of course a compass. I love the compass. When I was in something called The Campaigners (another version of BB or Cubs and Scouts), I won an award on a weekend camping trip for my use of the compass, navigating my team across Dartmoor. We’ve been friends ever since. A venture into unknown territory in lockdown, seemed the obvious time to be reunited with my compass. So in the bag it went. I was brimming with confidence. We had everything we needed. We had checked possible routes on the internet (desperately trying to commit them to memory). We knew roughly how the land lay. And off we went. All we had to do was to find the right path. The first part was easy. We knew the route. But soon came the time for a decision: which path do we want? And then it struck me. First, we had no map. Second, it was a long, long time since I had used a compass and I wasn’t really sure I could remember how to use one. There we were, uncertain of the way forward, with a compass I only had a vague recollection of how to use, and no map. Turns out a compass with no map is of very limited value! Eventually I figured out how to take a bearing (and was very pleased with myself), but my compass wasn’t able to tell me which way to go because I had no map! They work together you see. Map and compass. I did take some bearings. I pronounced we were walking in a south-easterly direction. We did get home because we recognised where we were and knew the way. But I didn’t do it by my compass! Truth is, if we had been in a position where we really needed a compass, we would have been lost! You need a map and a compass. And you need to know how to use them together. Lockdown is a challenging time. It is difficult time to navigate, a time when the way ahead in unclear. Difficult to do on your own. If ever there was a time when we need to trust ourselves to God, it is now. The way ahead is unclear and challenging. We cannot see clearly. We may feel lost and confused uncertain of where to go. Some of us are living with loss. But God is present. He is present even though we can’t see him. What is challenging is that he doesn’t simply tell us the path to take. He’s better than that. He wants to walk together with us. Like a map and a compass, they work best together. God and me. God and you. Walking through this valley together. A journey of trust and faith and hope. Done together with God.

Two places at once!

It would have been really cool to do it as a kid. In fact there were many times as a kid when to be in two places at once would have been great. Might even have saved me from some tricky situations! And think of all the things you could do: you could not only be talking to your mum on the phone and doing your duty as her son, but you could also…Wait! What am I saying! I’ve tried doing two tings at once while I’m talking to my mum, and she always knows. Always! But then being in two completely different places at the same time, doing completely different things, that would be something else wouldn’t it? Doing the shopping in one place, while finishing the sermon in another. Picking the children up from school, while catching up on a lost night’s sleep. Being at work while being on holiday! And yesterday I was. No, not at work and on holiday, but in two places at once! Well, at least it looked that way. I was leading the Crawley Baptist Church live stream service from my dining room. (I’m actually quite enjoying doing these even though I get really nervous before we start. I do wonder sometimes if I should have gone into T.V. I love the live thing and having to think on your feet. But back to the plot.) And, while I was leading the service in Crawley, I was also preaching in a Baptist Church in Horsham! Now that’s quite a feat don’t you think? Two services. Two congregations. Two churches. Two Towns. At the same time! A few weeks ago it would never have occurred to me that I would ever do something like that. And the truth is, it’s only because of the lockdown that it happened at all. The truth is that I was asked, before the lockdown, to be the moderator of a church in Horsham (that just means I’ve been asked to help a church who are without a minster at the moment). As part of that role I was asked to preach at the church on the 10th May, yesterday. So I said yes, and in the normal scheme of things would have been at the church in Horsham yesterday to speak. But then lockdown came. The church still wanted me to speak, but they are having to do what we are having to do, and they asked me to record my talk, which I did. So yesterday, as part of their service, they played my recorded talk. And over in Crawley, I was leading the live stream! At the same time. When Jesus told his disciples it was better for them that he went away, they didn’t get it (John 16v7). By leaving, Jesus enabled God to be present in a new way. What? Well, here’s the extraordinary thing: Jesus could only be in one place at a time in his humanness. But after he’s gone, because of the presence of the Holy Spirit, God’s presence is with his people in a new way. Now before you lynch me for heresy, think of it like this: Jesus could only be in one pace at a time - it’s part of the human condition. But now, he is everywhere his followers are because of the gift of the Hoy Spirit. Wherever followers of Christ go, so does the Kingdom of the heavens. Which is great news. Wherever you go in this crisis, whoever you talk to, chat with, email, message, write to or Zoom with, God is present by the Holy Spirit. You carry the Kingdom of the heavens. You do. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Jesus himself said so! As you do that in all the places you are allowed to go right now, others are doing it too and God is with them. God is in two places at once! Actually, he’s wherever his people are. Truth is, I can’t be in two places at once, not really, however much I dream about it. But God can! And he chooses to do it through me and you. Two places at once. And then some!

International Rescue!

We didn’t have a T.V. when I was young (thanks for your sympathy), but whenever I got the chance I would watch my favourite programme: The Thunderbirds! Wasn’t it fantastic. It didn’t matter that you could see the strings, or that they were puppets. It was real to me. I just loved everything about them. I loved that they had really neat gadgets; I loved that they had different aircraft for different crisis situations: Thunderbirds One, Two, Three Four and Five (each so clever). I loved the pictures on the wall in dad’s office - the ones where the eyes did that thing when one of them was trying to contact base (so cool). I loved the way the pool moved out of the way so Thunderbird One could take off. I loved the way the sat on the couch which turned into their transport to the aircraft (I never understood why we couldn’t have one in our living room). I loved Thunderbird Two with all its pods. I had Thunderbird Two. Mine had Thunderbird 4 in the pod (the submarine). Actually, I think my mum still has Thunderbird Two in the tin of toys she kept for the grandchildren to play with! The Thunderbirds were International Rescue. They turned up whenever there was a disaster or a crisis and saved the world. I wanted to be a Thunderbird! Yesterday, as we remembered the 75th anniversary of VE Day, we were reminded that it was an international rescue. In his speech as he announced the end of the war in Europe, Churchill reflected on the truth of what had happened, that for the first year or so it was Britain fighting the war. Then the Russians joined with the Allies. And then, after the attack on Pearl Harbour, the Americans joined the war effort. It was, as Churchill rightly pointed out, an International Rescue. An International Rescue against the forces of evil. And today, those of us who love in the peace and freedom won, rightly remember with thanks. Sadly, peace and freedom won by men fighting a war doesn’t last. It’s not the same war, but today there are more wars raging that at any time in history. There is only one war that has been won for eternity. That’s the war won by one man on a cross some two thousand years ago. That was, and is, an International Rescue on an eternal scale. That was, and is, an International Rescue that brings you and me peace and freedom. It is wonderfully true that when we turn our heart to the one who won the victory, we can know his peace and the freedom he brings. But we also know there are wars still raging in our lives and the lives of those we love. The International Rescue won on a cross means we can know his peace and his freedom even as we live in the midst of those wars. That’s why he came. But it’s not just for now. It is also wonderfully true that the International Rescue that lead one man to a cross, brings the hope of eternal peace and freedom. We can look forward to the day when all wars will cease, the ones that nation still fights against nation and the ones that still rage in our hearts and lives. At the end of WWII people gave thanks for the sacrifice others had given to win peace and freedom. We did again that yesterday. And it fills us with hope that things may be different. It fills us with hope for the future. As we look back at the International Rescue that led to the cross, we are reminded that self-sacrificial love really is at the centre of the universe and that not only can we have peace and freedom here and now, but we can look forward in hope to the day when all war will cease. Secretly I still want to be a Thunderbird. But that’s just a story. And I can’t save the world. So I’ll leave it to the one who can. No, he really can!