Journal: Dying matters Awareness week

What an amazingly immense day spent outside engaging with people as they shopped as part of 'Dying Matters' awareness week. I have had so many conversations with people and taken the opportunity to just 'be' with the people of Tamworth and it was marvellous.

From 10:00 to 16:00 I walked, talked, listened and prayed. I handed out leaflets for a bereavement support group based in St. Martin's (Stonydelph) and conversed with people from St Gile's Hospice   Funeral Directors, and many other people besides.

Back on the Streets on Friday - hoping it stays dry and that I experience more of the same.

There is a real temptation for me to just give up on all the admin and stuff and just soak myself in being out there on the streets - so many needs - and so much joy to be celebrated and made real.

As a society it seems that we don't do death as well as we did. We don't think about it in a healthy way, in fact we rarely think about it unless our mortality (or that of someone we live or know) is threatened. One of the most important roles a cleric has is that of helping people to die well - not a morbid thing, but something of joy and completeness I reckon.

We don't always grieve well either and the spectrum ranges from 'always look on the bright side of life' through to turning the home into a shrine and engaging in a toxic grief that ends normal life for others too. Death is a painful thing, but it is supposed to be and because grief is so often malformed rather than bring healing and a way forward it causes people to revisit the pain with no obvious exit for the roundabout!

So on with the week and the encounters and conversations and the pain of loss and the optimism that a new day brings.

Have I mentioned how much I love this ministry stuff.

Lord, for everything that's been today and all that's before me tomorrow: I thank You.

Dying - in the Ditch

Next week (May 8th -14th) is 'Dying Matters' Awareness Week.

There will be a presence on the streets of Tamworth with representatives from the local hospice and clergy, funeral directors and the like giving people the opportunity to talk about dying, death and bereavement and things that affect them personally.

As part of this we will be launching a new venture: Dying - in the Ditch.

A regular monthly evening in a micro pub where conversations on death, dying and bereavement and some good company are on offer.

Not a 'church' thing but a response to the needs in our town. Something for people of all faiths or no faith.

So if you have a question, a concern relating to death and dying, or have lost a loved one and are seeking answers - or a friend and a safe place - Why not come along?

Monday 8th May - 7:30 pm onwards

Journal: living under this world's yellow sun

The day now past has been one of challenge, blessing and a little personal pain today; not bad for a day billed as "off'. It started with breakfast and the company of a friend. One of the people who will listen to me and make, not always comfortable, comments and observations and provide part of what in combination with others is an effective spiritual direction process.

It's good to reflect and make oneself vulnerable to people - something we clergy do too little of - for it makes us human and exposes our feet of clay. The problem I find that hits me most is that unlike Superman,  living under the yellow sun of earth  doesn't seem to give me super powers at all! In fact there are times when I struggle to leap small obstacles with a single bound and am not only slower than a crawling bullet, but am wounded by words too! Yes indeed you - I'm frail, fallible and human.

Part two of today came in the shape of a service which unexpectedly arrived at my doorstep. But it was soon sorted, done, and gave me a sense of blessing too. When everyone is human then only the few - in this case the one - is truly revealed to be super. And so God was brought into the presence of others and I was blessed to be able to bless. That's what days off are for: Blessings!

So by the time the afternoon was with me we (the two made one through marriage) decided to take in a 'wrinkly film' (£3 each with a tea or coffee handed to you - a real bargain indeed). The film:Collateral Beauty - billed by some an a little over emotional, self-indulgent, offering.

But I got much from it even though it was so very obvious, over-egged and had too many words at time; yet was still effective and, for me at least, at times little painful. It's not often people will find me mention Timmy, a son who was loved much and who, attracting a litany of health issues, graced this world for just shy of ten years.

Howard the Will Smith character) is, Scrooge like, visited by love, time and death as he struggles over the loss of a child. Now it wasn't so much the film that touched me and entered into places I thought were dealt with and boarded up but the opportunity to let words and images resonate with the crystal glass memories and pains that lie hidden deep within the boarded up places.

The problem we have with loss is that we either bury the feelings of pain and grief with our loved ones or we nod at them and pass them by on the other side of the road, hoping no to have to stop and engage with them (a bit like some of the people life conspires to bless us with :-) ).

So yesterday I grieved over the loss of a son and touched the heart of God, another Father who shares the loss of a child, and was equally touched and blessed by the whole painful encounter. Tomorrow I will stand with people and in the resonance of today will bring them to a place of grief, loss, celebration and continuance of life. This yellow sun and the vulnerability it brings to my every day is indeed a blessing for it illuminates the hand which holds me and makes me safe.

Film done, it was time to write funeral services and edit sound tracks so that they fit the bill for my trip to the Crem'. It is so easy to 'do' funerals as if they were a row of identical objects on a conveyor belt. But the time taken to craft words that speak of the life, the joys, the pain, which shape and mound us is essential. The simplicity of finding words for a treasure is overtaken by the opportunity to be an apologist for a life lived in painful experience and broken relationships. This is the joy and the challenge we encounter when in the company of another person's dead.

The day ended with wedding stuff - and boy do I struggle with weddings! Unlike funerals where people need a neighbour, someone who will come alongside and help make sense of things, weddings often turn out to be a long line of service providers with the cleric and a required, yet not always required part, of the whole thing. But for this one I am involved with people I am involved with and so it's part of the family rather than part of the package. And that's a joy I will enjoy this coming Saturday.

So another 'day off' ends and I have had fun and pain and revelation and more besides.

Lord, for all the facets of the day I give You thanks and praise.
For my dead, and the dead of others - I give you thanks and commend them to Your grace, love, care and mercy. Bring Your healing into the presence of those whose loved one I will do services for this week.
For those I have been a blessing to today: I thank You.
For those who have blessed me and shown me kindness - thank You for them.
Lord, bring me sleep and refreshment - may tomorrow be filled with encounter and opportunity to make Your love and life real in the people before me.
Lord, I love You,

Journal: Initiation?

What would usually have been a cool Sunday was tinged with sadness as one of our lovely old ladies left the building this week. She'd been looking tired and was obviously struggling and I guess it was truly a blessed relief for her - and a sadness for those left behind. Add to this the loss of half a couple who have been a big part at another of our churches and the recent loss of another chap and it all gets a bit sad. 

But we celebrated lives and did the stuff in a couple of places and then did a couple of baptisms - two beautiful babes (one being the Mum who just shone) and the younger of the pair managed the whole event without crying when I got him wet. It was an odd service with convoluted and unwieldy liturgy and no oil for the chrismation - and, of course, for once my oil stock was left at home - so I did a virtual signing and explained how oil, water and light were the key elements of the service, 

We missed bits - after all, how many responses can you insert into a block of text before it gets to be worthless - and we laid the tracks as the train was running and in the end, did something sequitur and theologically sorted.

Phase one of the day lasted six hours - but it felt like one, the sign of a great day - phase two took the shape of a bit of pastoral engagement and raced through and then, wonder of wonders, I had an evening off so I chilled with the family.

But what of today? 

I learnt that misshaped liturgy is something unprintable to me and something of an obstruction to those outside the Church who are subjected to it. It's stupid, lazy and arrogant to assume that we need to dumb down our services because people are thick. It's pathetic to visit a church and talk down to or demean the congregation because of our own lack of liturgy, theology and experience - the fault too often lies in us.

Lord, on a day when we celebrated the second Adam,

A day when we remembered what sin has done,

A day when we celebrated new life in Christ,

For the bits where I was a stumbling block - I'm sorry

For the bits where I was a light in the darkness - I'm thankful

For those who heard the Gospel preached - I'm hopeful.

Feed me, forgive me and lead me deeper into You.

How many ropes can a cleric swing from . . . t

i. . . in a day without falling off? This was a question posed to me by someone today.

They said I was like Tarzan swinging from tree to tree - they didn't mention whether they thought I was doing the yelling bit, but I hope that in their minds eye I was! "Don't you ever stand still?" they asked. I merely smiled and reminded them that drinking tea whilst on the move was hazardous and swung on.

Today went like this: admin, pastoral, meeting, pastoral, pastoral, ring hospital to check on member, book home visits, lunch @  Church 'drop in', funeral visit, FDs, pastoral, Kid's Club, Communion service (baptism of Christ), DCC meeting. Loads of ropes and in between them plenty of telephone calls and texts. I've never thought of checking before but there were 26 mobile calls and 32 texts. I didn't manage to be behind the desk much today so only managed four calls on the landline - non 'spam' emails numbered 38.

I'm trying to cut down on electronic communication and will, where possible, try to engage by telephone or in person. It isn't any less efficient and the opportunity for people misreading the content or the tone is remember, they merely have to cope with me; which is probably equally confusing :-).

I realised today how much the ABEND (abnormal end) that is death - that system crash where life encounters a zero and comes to an end - affects people. There are the people who examine the code and seek answers, there are those who tear their hair out and get in a bit of a tizzy, others still who stop to reflect on the event and the impact it brings, and those who merely put the hat and coat on and withdraw from it all.

Funerals firmly in the four digit realm I always expect to encounter the unexpected and am rarely disappointed. From just me and the deceased in the crem, the 'walk through', the deceased waiting outside in the hearse whilst we do the service and the secret cremation before the funeral - and more besides - the options are many and the realities expand to keep you guessing.

But funerals are the bested bit of my life - they bring pastoral opportunities and the chance to debug and restore the lives of the bereaved such that they continue stronger and calmer through, and from, it all.

The pastoral, especially the home Communion, is another joy - Church and belonging made real for me and the person/s before me. Add to this the chance to visit in hospital and take the light of Christ into that place and the cake just bets bigger and tastier. The opportunity to be one who 'comes alongside' (parakletos - it's what the Holy Spirit does with us) is the opportunity to bless ourselves, and I hope the people we are engaging with, it's not work at all is it this ministry life - just time spent generally partying.

So Lord, for all the engagements today, may they have shown your love and compassion. For those who I know with needs, may they have been met and situations salved just a little more. Thank you for the lessons I learned yesterday - may I put them into practice today.

I thank you for Jesus, the Christ, the word made flesh and as we celebrate His baptism I thank you for mine - keep me faithful to my baptismal calling - keep me rejoicing in the salvation I have been given through the life, death, and resurrection of this God made man.

And for the person who asked me to do this: comm: 49 and hrs:15 (just realised it's a day off tomorrow - so should stay static).

I was a prisoner and you visited me

A day of variety and challenge - begun with the daily Office and moved quite swiftly on to the early morning Communion and then some pastoral encounters before I found myself behind high walls and barbed wire as I visited one of the residents in an HMP establishment. Add to this some more pastoral stuff and watch of 'Independence Day 2 (Boris Johnson was played by a large repulsive reptile - talk about typecasting!) and now - it's an early bedtime as have cold and busy day beckons tomorrow.

That said - on the work front I've clocked up some thirteen hours of work today - so realise it's not as light as it felt when I started writing. But it's the ministry engaged in and living with God that matters most I reckon.

The sadness of loss for those I like, and the loss of the people I liked too, hit home this morning as we prayed at the Communion service. The people I know who are caring for loved ones with life-shortening or life-ending illnesses (and there seem to be so many at the moment) and the number caring for ageing parents and family members too. The reading today from 1 John 3 which spoke of being and doing rather than words and posturing; this is the call of the Church for God did not use hollow words but, in Jesus, the Christ, took on flesh, became human , and DID!

That danger of us looking to works to reward and to 'make us acceptable to God and holy to all around us' is immense - but the danger of doing nothing is equally problematic and debilitating, isn't it? We have to do - it's not about being 'driven' (as a colleague recently put it), it's about fulfilling our baptismal calling. Although it's been a short day from the norm, it's been a full one and a fun one and for that I can be nothing but grateful :-).

The opportunity to do a prison visit was a blessing for although I've worked in a few HMP locations over the years, looking at things from the family's side and discovering how the inmate I visited regards doing their 'bird' and the place and people around them - was invaluable. Watching the prisoners around us and the way they interacted with their visitors was interesting too; the relationships and the way some took every moment to touch, caress and cherish their locked awY love. For a moment I found Isaiah 61 pop into my head but thought of 'setting the prisoners free' might set off a few alarms and make life a bit tough for the already stretched and challenged screws!!!

So tomorrow is Epiphany and  the Magi arrive - the world gets to see God made man and the ultimate solution unveiled before it in the shape of these distant travellers, for they represent the world.

Lord may I too make the Christ known to the whole world. May I be in step with all you are doing and be a blessing to all I meet, and if not a blessing may I not be a curse.

Thank you for the word made flesh - bless this flesh made priest I pray.

Life in all its fullness

Today has truly been one of great extremes as I contemplate the loss of a lovely lady, suddenly and unexpectedly taken, others walking the path towards the exit of this life into the eternal love and presence of God and those who are struggling to exit early; alongside which there was a midweek Communion to bless and pastoral encounters to challenge.

Lord, I thank you for the life of a woman who slowly and in the background became someone who popped up and chatted from time to time - a woman who had a voice that she was willing to make heard when needed and a grace that overcame situation, circumstance and experience. May she rest in peace and rise again in glory and those she leaves know of your presence and hand upon them.

Lord - help me to take the winning shot and then accept the fact without needed to add to go any further than is needed. To be the man you have called me to be and to stand fearlessly and tirelessly as, and wherever, you call me to be.

For the (many) times when I deserve a slap, I truly repent and seek to be someone different.

For the times when I might leave unsaid what needs to be said through fear of being thought harsh, forgive me and help me to amend this perhaps 'too gentle' error in me.

For the times when my frustration at the failings of others around causes me to stumble - help me to pray for them rather than merely get wound up and look less than the man I am through your love and life.

For our children, I pray that they would have a sure and steady, enabling, faith and that the furrows they plough might be straight and fruitful. For our four very different children I pray for them and the futures, those they will love and the lives they will lead - may our quiver full of arrows fly true.

For the woman who sleeps by my side as I type this I give you thanks. For a friend, sister, colleague and love who at times sees my feet of clay (and head of poo) and still loves me - the respect and admiration she commands at times through her own perambulatikns and calling - I am so very grateful and just a lot besotted.

Father God, for the encounters today and the places when You have been made obvious and apparent; for the spaces where heaven and earth have existed a fingertip apart; for siblings and family and fun and new terms begun - all of this is yours and for that I am so thankful.

Lord as today closes and the new day beckons - open up for me the opportunities and the encounters and the challenges - and as they appear, help me to be your man amidst it all.

You are a great God and Your hand is seen, your love is felt, and your voice is heard in so many, oft ignored, ways - make me a herald, a partner and keep me as Your beloved as the dawn appears and the day is mine to serve you.

"When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory."
1 Cor 15

Death - it's not a celebrity issue!

What do the numbers 53, 60, 96, 95 and 84 mean to you I wonder?  Do they mean anything at all?

For those who appear to be obsessed with celebrity deaths, these are the ages of George Michael, Carrie Fisher, Ricard Adams, Liz Smith and Debbie Reynolds who have all died recently (Reynolds being the latest).

A number of people have engaged in in the 'tragic' news - tragic on the grounds that they were stars; they were famous and did stuff that put them in the public eye. They tell me how. "There's something going one with all these stars dying!" And you know what - they are right.

Now consider the ages 94, 88, 95, 88, 70, 98, 88, 67, 80, 91 (my last ten funerals) and have a think about the fact that in some of those there were a handful of people left to mourn the loss of a life and yet in the stories that represented their lives there were heroic acts, selfless love, tragic lives and lives lived to the full.

A heroine taken and heroin taking another - that would be the heading for a couple of the celebrity deaths; a mother's broken heart accounts for another and 'just being old' a couple more of the celebrities.

But there's no conspiracy - as (a much quoted and more often unattributed) comment puts it - the high number of celebrity deaths corresponds with the rise to fame of film and music stars and the birth of the 'celebrity' whom so many now worship makes a large number of the deaths nothing more than a statistical reality and a reflection of candles burnt. Now I know one of the recent deaths was extremely sad in that the loss of one celeb' played a part in the second death but look at the 'December' deaths and tell me which of them cause a real surprise:

Liz Smith: 95      Richard Adams: 96       Debbie Reynolds:84       Carrie Fisher: 60
George Michael: 53    Rick Parfitt: 68      Zsa Zsa Gabor: 99          A A Gill: 62
Greg Lake: 69     Peter Vaughan: 93        Andrew Sachs: 86

Now look at the list again and having removed those who have clocked up a fair number have a stop and think about lifestyle choices of the 'surprise' deaths that remain - could it be that the 'sex, drugs and rock and roll' lifestyles and the like have played a part here?

So we now reach a place where it becomes pretty obvious that despite the newspaper hype and the fairtydust folklore attitudes of many around me (and I am assuming that the people here are little different to the people elsewhere) and you will see that God, most definitely, is not building a rock and roll band. Neither did he read Watershed Down and cry out, "Author, author!" only top find him standing before Him in an eyeballing later.

Regardless of who a person is or what they do - a life is a life and yet some seem to count the life of the star as something more than the life of a woman who cleaned toilets or worked at a lathe and walked to work because the money didn't allow for a bus or the man who was working four jobs during the time when short-time working, layoffs and the like (aah, remember the 60's and a time when the UK had a manufacturing industry?) - and all that to put love in the home, food on the table; clothes on their children's backs.

We need some perspective - all life is valuable and the loss of life is always a tragedy for someone.

It is sad that many who had so much in life get more again in death whilst the 'have not's' are buried quietly with barely a nod or, sadly at time, a person to note their passing.

One of the saddest funerals I have ever done was for a person who devoted their life to the service of others and yet when the died at 104 there was just me, the organist and their carer from the Old Folk's Home to mark her passing. The stories were few because none who knew them were alive and those who might have been family, albeit distant, had no relationship with them because they were separated by the generations!

So - here's a plea. We are called to comfort those who mourn and the greatest role I have as a Priest is that of helping the well, and the dying, to die well - regardless of whether that event is imminent of perhaps(but who knows) years off. We have all buried people in their teens, a time when death isn't even the glimmer of a fear and the assumption is that there to be tens of years before them.

So we can but live each day as if it were our last and act as if someone is watching (and of course they are - and I don't mean Santa either!) and an account of our actions will asked of.

Yesterday the Church remembered the 'Holy Innocents' - those children under two who were put to death by Herod as he sought to remove Jesus from this world. Today we ignore the children, those innocents, who die around the world in refugee camps, warzones, places where famine, poor sanitation and the lack of effective (or cost-available) drugs all conspire.

I have met people who have spent inordinately large sums of money to mark the passing of a celebrity and yet these same people were resolute in their lack of support for the Christian Aid envelope stuck through their letterbox. How happy we are to pay out for what is unimportant whilst the important - and isn't life always important? -  is ignored.

So a message to those around me: 'Wake up before you go go" because you only get one chance to do good things on this earth whilst you're here - and after that there's some clarification to be sought. A no, a Band Aid Tee Shirt doesn't count as having acted charitably, it means you were more likely than not just indulging the celebrity cult with a bit of salve (after all, the local who told me they spent almost £500 to be at the concert: "But it was for a good cause," and, "They really loved nn and, at last, got to see them!!   Yeah, that sounds like charity doesn't it?

Psalm 146:3-9 has a pointer in all this:

"Don’t put your life in the direction of those who know nothing of salvation life for they are as flawed and fallible as you. They live their lives of illusion on the screen, the stage and in their own existence and yet, they so often fail to have what it takes to live life to the full - and yet people seek the empty reality wrapped in the misplaced glamour that the masses crowd in to give them

But when they die, their fantasies, the appearance and the applause die with them so why not, instead, put your hope in God and know what real blessing and turn peace; what things make for a whole person and a fulfilled and blessed life are all about?

God has never decided to no longer reply to His fans, neither has he erected high fences to keep us away because He wants His privacy. God always stands up for the wronged and feeds the hungry (without selling you a Tee Shirt) and acts to release captives of all kinds.God loves all people, protects the strangers, takes the side of orphans and widows, but (and this probably is a warning - so take it as such) makes short work of the wicked."

Let's admire and applaud talent and ability - but never let us lose our balance such that we make them the small gods of our age who can lead us nowhere and do little of substance for us and be a dissipation rather than blessing.

Just saying.

And now praying:
Gracious God, 
surround us and all who mourn this day with your continuing compassion. 
Do not let grief overwhelm your children, or turn them against you. 
When grief seems never-ending,
Take them one step at a time along your road of death and resurrection
In Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

More reasons to be cheerful

Another day done and I can reflect on more privilege-laden happenings:

The joy of engaging with those who are suffering from the debilitating effects of dementia; an awfulness in which the sea of confusion slowly comes in and leave less of the beach for the person to exist on until they are overwhelmed and lost in the waves. Yet, even when the tide has come in, the enagagement with those who are now all at see in the shape of the Eucharist, the surfacing of the person as the Lord's Prayer is recalled and said from a small reef amidst it all, the lights coming back on - drawing merely upon the past remembered or making connections because of the externally, never to be forgotten?

I know what I think :-)

And then more engagement with someone who mourns the loss of a loved one. The privilege of being asked to make special that last moment when a departed loved one is in the same physical place with them for one last time. Surely one of the most important roles a cleric can have as we seek to make sense of a life now ended and point to a hope made real, and realised, in the death and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.

An then there was the opportunity to discuss love and duty and to explain how 1 Corinthians speaks of a love that makes a habitation, a shelter, for the focus of that love in the storms of life. To join the dots such that we realise that love calls us to do what is right and that duty is merely the obverse side of thc coin we call love - and reflect on the reality that those who march away to protect strangers, in doing so, exhibit a greater love - one which may call on them to lay down their lives.

Add to this the usual round of conversations with funeral directors and people seeking simple answers to astounding questions; the challenges of seeing sin break lives and those broken merely seeing it as 'bad luck' - how do we explain that playing in the train track is likely to get you hit by a train and knowing the words 'sin, self and selfishness' all need to feature in the cast list at the end of the tragedy before you - and still restore them gently?

And yet, as ever, we manage it because to do it any other way would be to potentially cause us to stumble too!

Just a glimpse at a day where blessing and the Christ have been found in amazing quantities - another day when the privilege of a dogcollar and and ever-present, loving, God make bed a happy place to reflect on and look excitedly for the next day to come.

Lord - I love you!

When the end of life becomes our reality

One of the most amazing, and awful, privileges I have is that of being with people on, or near, the time of death, for death, like life, can take many courses before the final hand is played!

Over the past weeks I have been privileged to find myself in the company of others surrounding their loved one, physically and with love, and with a lone person in their room; their having effectively outlived those closest to them being made real. Two people leaving this life: one well past average age of those I do funerals for (87) and the other nowhere near it!

As I do, I prayed with, and for, them, anointed them and claiming the promises of Christ for them, after death, closed the accounts ledger and entrusted them to God's grace, love, care and mercy. An easier task than that perhaps encountered when trauma has been the means by which they have departed this life you might think, but oddly this is not the case; for all life ending is loss and I'm not sure whether the tears and pain I feel as I make my way home are an indulgence or a sign of something I hope never to lose in my own person.

But when death comes knocking we are all affected.

Few, regardless of our externals and the ways in which we apparently deal with death, are truly unaffected by it. We watch those we love slowly climb the ladder of the slide and then, having reached the top, knowing there is only one way to get down, slide into death. Like every slide, some go easily and quickly whilst others go down slowly, sticking in places; other still leave scratch marks all the way down!

Often, when asked what I consider my most important role as one who ministers the Gospel of Jesus, the Christ, my response is: 'To prepare, and help, people die well.' This causes raised eyebrows in some but when you really think about it, death is the one exam we cannot resit and therefore, when it comes, we need to do it well.

One of the things I find myself encountering increasingly are people whose loved ones have gone leaving a body that continues without them; that awfulness that is Alzheimer's - something so many encounter and are cornered by. It's like a car where the driver has stepped out only to find that it has contused on its journey with no one at the wheel. Every now and then the driver might appear but eventually the vehicle carriers along with no one on board with the result that soon we forget who the driver was and consider what they are no longer.

One of the ways of countering this is to create memory boxes for those who suffer and memory books for those who will be left for the day will come when both are all that is left of our loved one unless we take care to preserve them. Write the familiar family stories down so that they remain in ink when the words are no longer heard and the memories are gone. Collect up the photographs and the names of past family members and the collective histories for those who will be leaving us and for those who are yet to come, for:

A person doesn't truly die if their name is not forgotten!

And when death comes: That transition from this world to the next. Remember the promises of God and challenge it;

Death, where is your sting?

Grave, where is your victory?

And the answer to these two questions is this:

Trampled underfoot and made a mockery of by the cross of Christ

May all who have departed this life rest in peace and rise in glory!

What is being 'Christian' all about?

"Now that's a very good question," I thought to myself as I struggled to find a reasonable answer and, reasonable or not, I gave one anyway - and this is how it goes:

"In my book Christians are people who, recognising the distance between them and God, are rather grateful that Jesus popped in and did the 'cross thing' because that (the 'cross thing') plays an important part in removing the distance and reconciling us to God.

Not only that but Jesus (whose job title in this role is 'The Christ*') having died pops over to hell (which because we use the term 'descends' must, I guess, be located in a downwards direction) and kindly points out to the bloke what runs the place (hereinafter refereed to satan (not Stan as my spellchecker sometimes suggests) that the only real power he has is death because this is the penalty for his (satan's) only product 'sin' and, having died and come back as alive, means that He (Jesus) has broken the only power he (satan) had.

Then, having come back from the dead he (Jesus) points out that when he broke death He did it for everyone - not en masse but in a one-for-one, real-time, act - so all you need to do is recognise who He is and What He did and (thanking Him) take a 'get out of sin free' card from Him (Jesus) and satan is stymied."

In a shorter form it goes like this:

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life."

John 3.16

So it's all very simple:

God and us were meant mates but became separated from each other because of sin

Jesus death on the cross breaks the power of sin (death) and restores the relationship between us and God

Accepting that Jesus, the Christ, has done all this and deciding to take the ticket from Him and live in the reality of forgiveness, eternal life and . . .

. . . Relationship with God through, for and with Him (Jesus)

That's what it's all about.

Can it get any simpler?

* Christ not being Jesus' name but a description of the role He occupies in that He, as the Son, comes to this world of ours as a man (that's a reference to His sex and to the fact that He is also human) as the 'anointed one of God' - He is God's solution to all the ills of the world basically.

Some Blue Sky Thinking

Which I rather like as a challenge to people of all viewpoints and faiths (and non-faiths too) - No one escapes this statement and the more one considers it the more it seems to develop discussion and the odd bit of polarisation (especially when they point at you and say, 'That's what your lot do!').

Give it a try and get talking (try it on the train too perhaps!):

Showed it to someone recently and their first response was 'Let's get them!'

Still trying to find out which 'them' it was and hoping I'm not part of it!

Tried it again and was met with the response, "So . . .  What is truth then?'

As if I know, I have difficulty separating fiction and real-life at times [have to go, Noddy ands his mate has just parked outside]

:-)

The Cell: Mental illness

Trapped in a cell, not of walls, but of mind;
Invisible to those outside,
Unbreakable to those within.
The sunny days that only you can see
As trapped within my life, gloom is my reality,
And where you see hope;
I see only more of the same.
You give me anti-psychotics but fail to see - 
The way that psychosis and your, many, diagnoses,
are really anti-me.
But there's a tunnel,
created with despair,
and death.

I'm free!

In memory of a man who proved that mental illness is indeed a terminal disease and on a day that is World Mental Heath day I find his death to be a stark reminder of the tragedies that accompany mental health issues

dona eis requiem

Priests and Privilege

I wonder how many people there are out there who think that the possession of a piece of plastic around the neck and the prefix 'Revd' make for a privileged class of people?

I wonder if they also realise just how right they are if they think that and also wonder if they realise that they are more than likely right for all the wrong reasons?

The reality is that privilege means that one gets invited to things that others generally don't as what appears to be a matter of habit and as a mark of who the person is. After all, if you're one of those suitably enobled people you get invited to stuff all the time - this is indeed privilege and preferment.

If you're one of those rare people who have won a medal in some major sporting arena, or perhaps in some major arena of conflict then you will also get yourself invited to things - So if you're Mo Farrar of Johnson Beharry VC, you can expect those invitations to select gatherings and amazing functions and happenings to fall through the letterbox all the time I I guess.

But if you think that's the all the case because you have that wonderful 'Revd' sellotaped to your business card then you have got the wrong sort of privilege in mind; after all, I haven't been invited to much in the way of gala functions, state balls, celebrity-filled junkets or the like in all of my time doing the job.

BUT - We are indeed privileged, and it goes like this:

I have been privileged to sit by the bed of a person who is departing this life and have had the privilege of helping their last moments in this world have shape, meaning and within the pain - a dignity.

I have been privileged to sit with those who have lost a loved one and help them come to terms with their loss, finding meaning, reason, hope and solace in the situation before them. Sometimes I have been able to bring a perspective of the person's life and to see within the haphazard jumble of life's events a consistency and qualities that closeness to them has previously obscured.

I have been privileged, as I was today, to find myself in a crematorium (or at a graveside) and, in the company of the deceased and their loved ones find before us someone whose life was to be not only celebrated but also given thanks for - even when they have left earlier than my 87 year average!

I have been privileged to celebrate life coming into the world and to give thanks for it in blessing and baptism services - often at times when those bringing the child knew only that they wanted to have God involved even when they didn't understand fully what that might mean (another privilege as I get to explain guilt, love, grace, sacrifice and relationship as found in Jesus, the Christ, and the cross).

I am privileged to have eaten out with the homeless on many occasions, sharing a sandwich and a brew as I find out who the image of the invisible God is made visible in!

I am privileged to be invited to dinners, but as there's no such thing as a free meal, that comes with saying grace (another privilege which I'd pay for - and with mess dinners - I do!).

The list could go on for a lot longer (are you still awake?) but I'll stop here (or shall I mention weddings, school assemblies, chaplaincies, marriage counselling, prayer ministry, preaching, church, worship and the rest? No, thought not ;-) ).

Suffice to say I am more privileged than perhaps many of you out there might think.

Pax

Fire Brigade death in Manchester

As someone who grew up in a home which was dominated by the London Fire Brigade and the daily potential for injury or death every time the bells went down I find myself especially saddened by the death of Manchester firefighter Stephen Hunt last night.

One of the realities of a 'smoke eaters' life is that of never knowing what perils the next shout might bring or what sights the fire fighter might be subject to - something those outside of the job can so easily be ignorant of, or immune to.

Please pray for the family and friends of Stephen Hunt, his colleagues on his watch and those in his brigade (and all fire fighters).

dona eis requiem

Beginning and End (and in between)

Many a time I have sat by the bed of someone who was soon to leave this world of ours and been challenged by the family members who clung so hard to them.

Many a time I have urged people to let go of their struggles with others and choose a path of peaceful coexistence, even when it means moving away from them.

Many a time I have sat with, and prayed for, couples as they come to terms with the loss of a baby.

Often in these encounters I find myself drawn back to the words of Psalm 139 and the strength, comfort and direction that is found in this piece and the thoughts it contains.

Psalm 139

Lord, there's nothing you don't know about me: Beginning to end and all that's in between.

You know my thoughts, my deeds and more besides.

You know where I've been, what I've seen and what I'm going to as well.

You know what I've said before I say it (and how you wish I wouldn't).

Where can I go that you're not?

How can I avoid your gaze?

No matter where, or how, I can't give you the slip.

Darkness hides me from men, but not from you;

Holes in the ground or high in the peaks and there I am alone, except for you!

Morning, noon and night; 

Seven by twenty-four by three sixty-five - there you are alongside me!

Before my first scan you saw me and knew me,

My whole life story; triumphs and sadness, challenges and trials,

There they were, all my choices (not sadly yours), all my deeds!

From the womb to the tomb (and beyond) as I grew and blossomed,

Blossomed and decayed.

Your words, You hopes, Your love;

Surrounding and a finger tip away.

Would that perhaps I had realised this and acted better;

Made the right choices; done the right thing; been the better man!

If only you'd have got rid of the really wicked people,

Stopped the bloodshed, stayed the wars, protected the innocent;

If only you'd change your mind and act on the earth once again,

Forgot the rainbow and down down and dirty with the down and dirty people!

How I wish you'd check me out and see what bits of me are wrong.

What thoughts, deeds and plans deny you and damage us both,

And those around me too!

Find them and work on them with me,

For you doing it without me would mean nothing, would it?

Make me the man I can be, should be, rather than the man I am;

And wait for me with everlasting life at the journeys end.                                   ©VicVDB2013

So farewell Margaret Thatcher . . .

Margaret Thatcher's death is a sad event at so many levels:

I. She was someone special to her family,

II. She pushed the boundaries for women in so many areas (some would include women in ministry here too) and her landmark 1979 election as Prime Minister did many good (and some bad) things.

iii. She was resolute and strong and served her nation and party well in many ways.

iv. Some have used her death to vilify and rejoice - acts which display a paucity of generosity and a blinkered and pathetic mindset.

Personally I found some of her policies to be distasteful and struggled with her and those around her - but I am grateful for her life of service and can but pray and commend her to God's grace, love, care and mercy.

dona eis requiem

Neonatal Death: Call the Midwife

Tonight's episode of 'Call the Midwife' dealt with the issue of neonatal death; an issue that once it has visited a family never really goes away.

I was doing so well today and then this blinking programme turned up and as the story unfolded I found myself with tears running down my face and myself taken back to the very first time I fund myself in a room with a Mum, easing her to a place where we could pray and ease the child towards the waiting female member of the undertaker's staff.

I have to be honest and say that there are timers when the blessed resonances that all pastoral encounters leave behind not only ground you but also give you exquisitely painful insights into God's love for His child and the pain that separation, for our sake, brought Him.

There will be many for whom the pain is revisited as the wounds of loss are re-examined and made real once again. For those who find tonight's episode may they find healing, wholeness and restoration.

For those who have gone:  May God grant them eternal rest (dona eis requiem).

Lessons I learnt at School . . .

Lord of the Flies!

The poor soul who tried to teach us English struggled to get us to see wider than the words as we worked through William Golding's 'Lord of the Flies' and although I still wonder what Ralph thought when he saw Piggy's body, I think my teacher did a good job.

The word's of Lord Acton, which my teacher droned on about (endlessly), and also added to obviously stuck. "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, so we need to be careful in how we control the power we have!" His warnings about how the book taught us regarding "The thin veneer of civilisation which separates from the natives," ring true, especially as I watch the news following Bin Laden's death.

Seeing people waving the headlines:

Did nothing to convince me that what many were about was revenge of the most distasteful kind.

Meanwhile elsewhere, images were shown of images of Bin Laden being kissed and him being mourned over:

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction (Thanks Isaac) and one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter (unless we build bridges and convince him otherwise).

What we need now is to not gloat triumphantly, but to understand that Bin Laden has reaped the harvest of his wickedness, and perhaps to hope that we won't reap ours (before God, not at the hands of man).

I was blessed and touched to see one man at the site of the WTC with this placard:

He echoes my sentiments completely. We need peace, not revenge, not cries of vengeance (isn't that what brought Bin Laden here?).

We need to look at ways of bringing peace and justice to our world, not seeking to settle scores and not believing in the power that we, or our nations, hold. For it is folly to believe we can achieve anything, that we are all powerful and can conqueror all before us, only God can claim that. Only God can live up to that billing.

Let's pray that the dust settles and that those who might seek to bring their own brand of retribution have their hands stayed.

Justice - Mercy - Humility, this is the way that true power is handled, this is the means by which everything can be achieved and walls broken down.

Pax