Interval

The very first post I entered here was entitled “Overture”: it was simply to get the ball rolling, to begin the blog by setting the tone for the site.

But now we have the Interval. Not for the blog, but for something far greater in my life.

I’m on a train, just leaving Geneva, heading for Wengen. The rising sun is breaking through the last wisps of morning fog, glistening on the lake beaneath me to my right. We stream past slower trains with less to do, more people to carry on shorter journies perhaps. This train is all but empty as it speeds to Lausanne, Bern, Luzern.

And I speed away from St Catherine’s for my Sabbatical. Always a capital S. I have been looking forwards to this since the idea first occurred perhaps two and a half years ago, and more solidly since I began planning the book I shall be working on – let’s give it a working title, let’s start calling it Forgiveness – for over a year now.

On my left fields, a chateau, tall trees and then forestry covered hills with snow-capped mountains peaking out from behind them.

But not just a Sabbatical. An interval. When I came to St Catherine’s, I set myself ten years and then a review; it soon became apparent that that would not be long enough to do the work I was called to do. So I re-set my parameters to fifteen years. On that basis, this is half time.

Half gone. Now a break. Then the same again, that’s all.

Of course, it also became apparent that fifteen years was a totally arbitary thing. Goodness, I have no crystal ball here, and no idea what the Lord will call me to do. But yesterday as I said goodbye at morning and evening services, I was aware of that idea, and aware too that one day I will leave for good – and it really hurt!

I saw my old theological college principal last week; and I commented to him then that I didn’t remember anyone telling me at college how much I would love my church. It is my family, my home, where I belong, where I see God working and loving people, where I want to grow & grow old.

Half way? I sincerely hope not! But I know I am only there because he has given me the wonderrful gift of being there.

So this is an interval. Between Acts One and Two. Of how many, I cannot say!

Sun, almost too bright now, making reading my screen hard work. Banners flying from buildings. Winter countryside. A ruined farmhouse.

An interval. To breathe, to consider what has happened so far. To take stock. To anticipate what will come. To give thanks.

And then the curtain rises again – for I won’t take aseat for Act two, I’ll take the stage: Christian life is no spectator sport. And where Jesus shines his spotlight, I want to be found standing right there.