Success!

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

Unexpected places

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

Presents?

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

Waiting

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

Car

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

Van

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

Treadmill

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

Lights

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

Discovery

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

Thankful

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

Remember

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

Ear Plugs

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

Gap

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

Risk

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

Sorry!

I’m wondering if Elton John was in fact right when he sang “sorry seems to be the hardest word.” I’m certainly not good at it. Saying sorry that is. When I was a kid and did something that resulted in me being sent to my room (I know it’s hard to believe, but that did actually happen), the way to redemption (that is, being allowed out of my room) was to say sorry. Trouble is, when you’re a kid and you’re cross with your mother who sent you to your room, saying sorry is hard. Really hard. Especially when it was your brother’s fault. It was always my brother’s fault! And that’s part of the problem isn’t it? Mostly we want to think it is really someone else who should be saying sorry. That’s why it is so often so hard to say sorry. Because we don’t think we have anything to say sorry for. We wat to blame someone else. It goes back a long way it seems to me. Adam said it was Eve’s fault and Eve blamed the serpent. No-one wanted to say sorry. Actually, rather than say sorry and front it up, Adam and Eve hid. Or they tried to. They hadn’t worked out quite how hard it is to hide from God. We’re still not good at saying sorry. How many times do you hear someone in a public office say sorry for a mistake? What’s much more likely is for them to blame the opposition or the markets or…because it’s always someone else who’s to blame. She may have done it, and I apologise if she has and I’ve missed it, but the SNP member of parliament who travelled to London to Scotland and back knowing she’d been in contact with someone with a positive COVID test and then knowing she’d herself had tested positive, might do well to consider saying sorry. However, before we judge too harshly, perhaps we all share the same challenge: that things never really apply to us in the same way as they do to others. Right? Isn’t that what we mostly think? It’s quite humbling when someone says sorry to me. But I am not usually humble enough to say sorry to them. Truth is, we all make mistakes. The way out of my room when I was a boy, was to say sorry. It was too hard to do in person, so I used to make a paper aeroplane, write “Sorry” on it, and try to fly it from by bedroom window to the kitchen below hoping it would fly in through the window and my mum would catch it. It never worked. Never, I would spend hours in my room. I wonder what rooms we spend our time in because we can’t find it in our hearts to say sorry. I’m living with some scars. Maybe you are too. I'm learning it’s better to say sorry. Tried it earlier today. You don’t need to know the details and I’d be embarrassed to tell you. The good news is that I believe in a God of mercy, which means I can say sorry and keep saying it. He hears me every time. Elton John asks: “Why can’t we talk it over?” Turns out those are wise words. And, I think, words God might say to us. I wonder how different the world could be if we learnt to say sorry. Maybe, maybe, we could find out. By trying it!

Taste and see

I’ve been doing it for 16 years now. I haven’t done it every year. Sometimes things get in the way, things like taking a son to university. But, I’ve been to many more than I’ve missed. I do it because I enjoy it. I do it because I want to support the cause. It’s an easy way to help. It works for me. It works for them. It’s for a good cause after all. I can make that sacrifice once a year on a sunny September day. Actually It’s not always sunny. Sometimes it rains! I was reminded this year of how it started for me. That was even before I started going to this particular day. But I wouldn’t be going today if I hadn’t started before. What got me into it in the first place was the need to raise money. (Funny really because I’m still dong it to raise money, so in some ways that’s not changed.) Anyway, we were going to knock down the church building and rebuild it. For that we needed money. Lots of money. We began to think of ways to raise big money. And one day, one person had the idea of putting on a golf day as a way of raising money. I didn’t play golf.. I didn’t really want to play golf. Golf was a game I had neither the time or the money to play. And anyway it was a game for old men. Why would I play golf when I could still run around a football pitch and chase a ball? But, because I was the leader of the church and wanted to support the idea, I went. I borrowed clubs and I went to play golf. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t good golf. I’m not even sure I enjoyed myself. But, somehow, I got hooked. And the rest as they say is history. Now I play golf whenever I get the opportunity. I’ve had some great conversations on the golf course. I’ve seen some wonderful countryside visiting golf courses. I love getting up early on a frosty winter morning and going out early to catch the best part of the day. And, just for the record I’ve played some good rounds of golf. I’ve got better. I don’t always play well. It’s become a place of solace where I can get away from things. I love being outside. I love the exercise. And I love the satisfaction of a well executed shot. And here’s the thing: I would have missed all that if I had never gone that first time. I was invited. I took up the invitation. And I’ve never looked back. What I would have missed. As I reflected ion the conversation at this year’s Sierra Leone Mission Golf Day, a verse came to mind: “Taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed it the one who takes refuge in him.” (Psalm 34:8) I would have missed out on all that golf has given me if had never tasted it. I wonder what God might be inviting me to in this time. I wonder what God might be inviting you to. Maybe I need to taste and see. Maybe I need to take God at his word and trust him. Maybe you do too.

How long?

On Tuesday I met an really interesting man. He was in a bed and when I saw him. I thought he would definitely not want to talk to me. He was wearing headphones and seemed to be completely engrossed in watching his TV. But, when I walked past his bed on my way to talk to the guy next to him, he ripped off his headphones, smiled a big, excited smile and introduced himself! His mistake was that he thought I was a doctor and he wanted to thank me for the treatment he’d received while he’d been in hospital. As we got talking, and he was very keen to talk, it turned out he was a really interesting guy. He told me that he was from Iraq and that, years ago, he’d worked for Saddam Hussein as his minister for protocol. He told me that twenty six years ago he’d defected. And now he was telling me how much he appreciated the treatment he’d been given during his time in hospital. He kept telling me that. I told him I couldn’t take any credit for it.. I told him I wasn’t a doctor. He didn’t seem to mind. We chatted for a while and then I asked: “How long till you can go home?” The truth is he didn’t know. It turned out he had multiple problems. He’d had one operation, which had been successful, but now he had to wait for more. In fact, only after his first operation was he ready to be treated for the thing that brought him to hospital in the first place. So my question: how long? didn’t have an answer. Or at least an answer that he could give. I’m beginning to ask the same question: how long? How long is this pandemic going to go on? How long until we can meet again in church in the way we would like? How long do we have to postpone the things we love to do, but can’t? How long until everything is back to normal? And I don’t even want to think about the truth that normal will be different! What struck me as I moved on to the chap in the next bed, was just how enthusiastic my Iraqi friend had been. All he wanted to do was thank me. All he wanted to do was to tell me how grateful he was for what had happened. All he wanted to do was to share his joy with me. Truth is, it really affected me. He had a great big smile. He had an attitude of gratitude. His enthusiasm rubbed off on me. It got me think about the way in which I am responding to another lockdown. It got me thinking abut how I might choose to respond to; how long? Truth is my meeting with this guy changed me. I’m wondering if I might be that person for someone I meet. I’m wondering if, because I live in a bigger and better story than the one I see in front of me, I can bring hope to someone else. Maybe you can too.

Anniversary

Well, as you know as a church we are celebrating 137 years of Crawley Baptist Church tomorrow. There isn’t anyone alive who was there at the start. But it’s still going. I haven’t studied the history of the church carefully, but as far as I can tell, and certainly within the more recent history of the church, it is a church that has a good history. What do I mean by good? I mean it’s not a church with a history of disagreements and splits. Sure, there have been times when there have been difficult and honest conversations. Sure there have been times when decisions taken have left some people unhappy or upset. Sure there have been people who have left the church because they don’t like what’s going on or the direction they think the church is going. I know all of that’s true because all of it’s happened in my time as the minister. And, being honest, it’s never easy when any of this kind of thing happens. But, the church is a church with a good heart. It’s a church with a desire to work things out. it’s a church that finds a way through. People will always leave churches for all sorts of reasons. That’s true of every church through the whole history of the church. And yet, here we are. Celebrating the 137th anniversary of Crawley Baptist Church. As I reflect on the history of the church, with all it’s triumphs, all it’s failures, mostly I want to say thank you to those who have walked before me. I want to say thank you to those who have paved the way for me being able to do what I am doing today. You see, without those people, I would not be who I am today. We would not be who we are today. I am grateful to those who had the courage to walk their journey of faith, in the best way they knew how, over many years, shaping and guiding the church. We know times are always changing. The speed of change is the thing that’s changing most. And we’ve seen many. many changes to the way we do church even in the time I’ve been n the church. We are always looking to see what can and should change. I am amazed at how many books I can read on how I should be doing church today. Thing is, it seems to me God is creative and innovative God and he can work with pretty much anything when we do it with the right hear. Anyway, the point is this: thank you to those on whose shoulders I now stand. Thank you for walking your journey of faith in the best way you knew how. Thank you for laying the foundations for people like me. Thank you for enabling me to minster in your wake. Thank you for serving God well. Thank you. As we celebrate our anniversary tomorrow, it leaves me wondering what I am leaving for those who follow? What are we leaving? What will those who follow us be able to say about our time? I hope they’ll be able to thank us for walking our journey in the best way we knew how. That would be enough for me. And you?

Kittens

To be honest I’d forgotten how much fun kittens are. We’ve had five cats in our married life, and, amazingly, they all came to us as kittens. Yesterday we went and saw the kittens now running riot in Meg and Justin’s house. They are tiny (although bigger than when we first saw them). They are balls of fluff with legs. They have eyes that are way too big for their heads, and ears that seem to pick up every sound imaginable. They are cute. They are curious. Endlessly curious. Everything seems a great adventure: a shoelace; a toe; a shoe; any wire; all the gaps that you don’t want them to find. These kittens are spoilt They have a tower almost as tall as the living room on which they can climb and jump and scratch and hide. They can chase each other up and down, in and out of the doors and windows specially designed for them to do just that. If that’s not enough, they have a set of tunnels they can leap into and out of; a place to hide in and from which to pounce on a unsuspecting brother or sister. Then there’s the the laser lights: that brightly coloured dot on the carpet, the wall, up the stairs, on the furniture that must be chased down and thwarted by their paws. It can be exhausting just watching them. Every moment is a moment of excitement. Every moment is a moment for a new discovery. Every moment is a chance to escape and discover something new. Every moment is full of life and energy. Kittens are bundles of fun giving us hours of entertainment. But it won’t last. Our cats are now about five years old. They don’t care about towers as high as the ceiling. They don’t care about tunnels. They don’t care about bright coloured lights on the carpet. In fact, if we tried that with our cats, they’d look at us with that disdainful look only cats have, as if to say: “What are you doing? I don’t understand you humans!” When our cat Fizz was a kitten she use to jump onto the broom as we swept the kitchen and ride around all the time we were sweeping. Turns out the kittens we saw yesterday have risen to new heights of kittenness even today. In their house they have a hoover that goes by itself. You just set it off and it goes round the room by itself, very cleverly knowing when to turn and go in a different direction! It starts when you hit the start button. Or…when a kitten jumps on it and presses the start button for you! A kitten who does the hoovering. That’s not bad thing is it?!! Fizz got bored with the broom. She found other things to take her attention. Like birds, or mice or…So will the kittens. They’ll realise it’s really the job of the humans to do the hoovering. They’ll ignore the tower of fun. They’ll walk past the tunnels that once captured them. They’ll become cats. They’ll lose their kittenness. They’ll lose that fascination with literally anything that moves. They’ll grow up. They’ll catch birds and mice and frogs and bring them into the house just to prove they can do it. And, it would be wrong if they didn’t grow up. Same with me. I need to grow up. I hope I have. I certainly don’t do all the things I once did. I can’t! But now I’m older, I’m wiser, I hope. I have a different perspective on life and what’s important. But if I’m not careful, maybe I can lose that sense of wonder at the world. At possibility. Maybe I can lose that sense of fun you have when you’re young. Maybe I can become cynical. Maybe I can become a little less likely to expect something out of the ordinary. Maybe I have God figured out too. I know what he will do and what he won’t do. Maybe I lose that part of me that some people call expectancy. What some might call faith. Maybe I can lose that sense that God really can do something new, or different or unexpected. Maybe, it would be better if I still have a part of me that’s just like a kitten: there’s possibility everywhere. Maybe God would like me to be more like a kitten sometimes. And maybe you too!

Interrupted

So I’m here on retreat. I’ve got the books I really want to read. I’ve got the solitude. I’ve got the time. You’d think it would all go to plan wouldn’t you? I’m on retreat because in the time of lockdown it was really difficult to carve out time to read. Reading is one of the things that sustains you in ministry. I’ve learnt that over time. It’s a challenge for me. I’m not fast reader. Never have been. Like I said before, I’m a plodder. And I plod when I read. Some people can read a book in a week, or a day. I know I live with people kike that. But I’m not one of them. And some of the books I read need special help! So I’m here to read. About hell! That’s something to cheer you up! More of that another time. Maybe. But here’s the thing. Even here I get interrupted. I came away so I didn’t get interrupted. Some things though have to be attended to. Yesterday, last evening, we were told lockdown was coming back. Or some of it. So now I have to work out how that affects church and what were doing. I can’t ignore that. Well, I could but it wouldn’t be wise. I’ve also been interrupted by my aunt and uncle who live near and who’ve invited me over for dinner one night. That’s a nice interruption but an interruption all the same. Jesus got interrupted. He was on his way to help a centurion one day when a woman touched his cloak. Most of us would have missed that. Jesus was in a crowd, all pressed in around him. They were, no doubt, wanting his attention. Perhaps they were asking for his help. Or throwing insults at hm. But when a woman touched his cloak he noticed. He stopped. He asked who ha touched him. He wanted to know. He allowed himself to be interrupted. That interruption led to a woman being healed. It demonstrated the reason Jesus had come: there is a kingdom that brings wholeness and you can be part of that kingdom. There were times when Jesus didn’t allow himself to be interrupted. Peter wanted to fight to save him from the clutches of the Sanhedrin. Jesus rebuked him and healed the soldier whose ear Peter had cut off. In that act, Jesus said he would not be interrupted from the reason he had come: to bring the kingdom that brings healing and wholeness. We all get interrupted. Jesus allowed himself to be interrupted. He even went on retreat sometimes. What I’m thankful for is that, in all the interruptions, unlike me sometimes, Jesus never lost sight of the bigger picture. Nothing would get in the way of of him walking to the cross. Because that’s where the kingdom of healing and wholeness is found.