Losing fifty pounds: the secret of contentment

It wasn't an accident this time. So don't worry.

And I haven't been gambling, so get up off your knees, my soul is safe.

It's the best fifty pounds I ever lost - not that I'm in the habit of losing fifty pounds regularly, I'm a vicar, and can't afford to do that!

And I seriously hope it isn't simply mislaid, and that when I say "lost", I mean "lost", never to be re-found.

For, of course, I don't mean £50 at all. I mean 50lb. Just over three and a half stone for the UK readership. Back in September I weighed in at 14 stone 10lb - 206 pounds for our colonial friends. 89 kilos. Today I hit 11 stone 2 lb - 156 pounds. 71 kilos. That's a reduction of just under a quarter of my body weight in just over seven months.

How and why?

Let's start with why. So I got old in November. 40. I'm short, losing my hair, fat and ageing. One of these four factors is in my control!

How? Discipline. I took most sugar out of my diet - I drink a lot of Coke but switched to Coke Zero. Dessert is my favourite meal of the day - and it went. For a while completely, for a while just reduced severely.

And as my friend Ricky points out, the drugs do work. As an ongoing migraine preventative I swapped from Pizotifen (side effect: weight gain) to Topiramate (side effect: weight loss) in September. The information sheet that comes with the tablets includes this helpful line: "If you are losing too much weight...the amount of food being eaten should be increased." Well, that's clear!

The thing is, these tablets have given me a metabolism I haven't had since my early twenties. I can eat almost anything and not gain weight. If I just eat normally, I lose weight. So I eat well, and stay put. If I want to shed a pound or two, I eat normally - not frugally. This can't last, but for now, it's like finding the goose that lays the golden egg!

And I haven't been down to this weight since leaving Aberystwyth in '99 - and that summer it was due to hard work, involving a strict diet and lots of exercise.

Let's get this in perspective. St Paul talks about those people whose "god is their stomach", and when I see all the diet stuff around, I wonder if he means that as well rather than just people who simply gorge themselves. Contentment is about being happy however life finds you, because circumstance doesn't rule you.

But at 40, and having given up and felt that I was now always going to be the chubby kid in the class, to get back to being my old shape again does feel good. And it makes me wonder what else have I settled for that need not be the case?

Because contentment is not about settling for less. Yet sometimes as I grow older I find that settling for less becomes acceptable. These last months have shown me there is a difference, and I need to spot that difference, be content in all things, yet continue to strive for a life that settles for nothing less than all I can achieve.

My church is growing a bit. Lord, grow it more. In faith and number, please.

I am enjoying doing musical things again - Lord I pray for more opportunities, and more time to develop these skills again, to make the most of them, not to think that I've gone as far as I can.

Suddenly there are kids here who want to grow in worship leading skills - Lord give me a passion to pass on all I have learned and imbibed over the years, that they might thrive.

Losing weight - losing complacency - gaining new vigour and new contentment. And the old dog is learning new tricks.

Listen on the Web!

St Catherine's broadcast on the BBC today - and by the way: Happy Easter! In case you missed it, click Here is the link, and then click on the "listen again" button. But you have to listen between today, April 8th, and April 14th 2007, as after this week the link will still be there, but you will be listening again to the next church to be broadcast!

I am happy with the spoken element, but a little disappointed with the BBC recording of our music, which 'live' had rather more to it than you'd guess from this recording. Still - have a listen, and let me know what you think.

Again: Happy Easter!

(later)

On listening again, I think that the BBC did a really great job with the spoken stuff, and the singing is very good too - especially as we could have had more people come to the recording. But I wish you could have heard how amazing the band actually were! Ah well, that's live recording and limited time I guess. I think on the whole I am really pleased - it is a good Easter service that tells the story well. My Asbury friends would recognise my narrative theology!

"Hands on" solutions

This term we have been looking at gifts of the Spirit in our Tuesday home group at church. Last week I did a practical session on how to pray for healing - because the week before people had offered to pray for me, cos they felt they should, but they really had no idea what to do.

Healing prayer isn't magic. It is simple, it is compassionate, it is gentle, it is godly, and it is common sense. I follow the Vineyard "hands on" pattern of prayer, and use a very clinical teaching model - not a technique - as I demonstrate how one might pray. Emotional it is not: we ask the Spirit to come, and trusting him to answer that positively, I then take every opportunity to show teh group step by step what is happening as we pray so that they may learn as much as possible from the experience.

We do ask for someone to volunteer to be prayed for. Kath stepped forward. I don't know how she is over the issue she asked for, but at the end I felt I should add a prayer for her sleep, something she hadn't mentioned. She was really touched by this, as she had been struggling recently and needed help. And has slept well since.

Then I asked for prayer, whilst others prayed for me following what they had learned, and I am pleased to report my migraine stopped at day thirteen - ie on Tuesday night. I have even started sleeping again, which is an added bonus! Recovery after a prolonged migraine is itself a bit of a journey, but one which is going well.

I love being in a church where people learn and discuss and share and experience God together. I love, too, having friends who ring me up afterwards and conduct the most bizarre phone calls... wonderfully de-stressing!

Heads you win...

So it settled. The migraine. This is the end of day eleven, making this the longest migraine I've had since last July. Actually, one brief evening's flicker in November apart, it's the only migraine I've had since then. So no complaints.

The change of medication I had in September has done a great job - and had one significantly positive side effect of which I will write more in the days to come. Before that point, in the first six months of the year I had three migraines - 8, 15 and 22 days in duration.

What causes them? Too many things. Diet has some effect. As does stress. As does the weather. All these things can come together and not cause one. Or seemingly there can be no trigger, and one happens. Given the remarkable stresses of the job since last September, to get this far without so far succumbing is a major triumph. Again, credit to the new drugs, which I take religiously, twice daily.

The length of an attack is the main problem. Fuzziness and forgetfulness and dizzyness and the like are all very amusing in short measure; they grow old quickly. As do the headaches themselves, though these vary in intensity, and darkened rooms etc help - as do simple pain killers (when in industrial strength - thanks, doc) though little else does. Coke can help - Coca Cola, that is; the caffeine sometimes seems to knock the edge off. But it also stops me sleeping. Swings and roundabouts.

I have managed to carve two days at the end of this week in my diary to take as days away; providing I am well enough to drive somewhere. If my balance is bad, that's not a good idea... But sometimes a break away is one way of breaking the cycle. At 15 days I will try anything. At 20 I will be demanding all sorts...

And at 27 days I shall be going on holiday. I hope to be sorted by then. But if stress is a major factor, a holiday will help. Though a migraine lasting 27 days will be a recent record, even by my standards.

Still: perspective. It's a debilitating headache. That's all. God is good, and there are many, many people who would give anything to be so lucky. There was a posting below this, which I have removed, about the Pakistan/Ireland cricket match entitled "Such Games as These". Given all that has happened since, I felt I should remove it, and I should be so lucky as to be able to complain about a migraine.

Accidents do happen

So I am driving up the hill to the spot where I always walk the dog. It's a single track road, pretty wild. And suddenly as I round a corner, there's a cyclist coming at me, really fast. I brake. He brakes. I come out of it better.

I don't hit him. I stop well. I'm driving carefully, cos the road is tricky, and I do it every day. But he is coming downhill towards me and is going fast; he hits his front brake so hard that he goes over his front wheel, smacks onto the road, hits his head with a crack, hits his face, his arms, his legs. He's wearing a helmet, which I think saves his life.

He lies there. I wait, I'm in shock. I call out - are you OK? He moans. I get out of the car. He is lying at the side of the road, his bike in the middle, about ten yards in front of me.

Are you OK? Yes, he says, getting up. His left eye and chin have gravel grazes. His right trouser knee is torn. He is struggling to stand. Sit down, mate, I say. I'm OK, he replies. Then he keels over and hits the road face forwards, eyes going back into his head.

I call an ambulance. I think I am fairly upset at this point. I mean - it's not my fault, it's an accident, and yet it is entirely my fault. If I had set out two minutes later, he'd have reached the wider bit of road. If he'd have been concentrating, he'd not have hit the brakes so hard. If I'd decided to feed the dog before setting out to drive up to out usual walking spot, we'd never have met. He'd be OK.

It's an accident. Accidents do happen.

He comes to, he calls his wife, his daughter answers. I'm feeling terrible. There is a world of people affected by something I'm a part of - but didn't do! The ambulance comes, eventually, but by then he is lucid again, OK, though the second fall gave him matching gravel grazes on the other side of his face. He says it's OK it's not my fault. I leave him with the paramedic.

His name is Dave. He never asks mine, and in classic British style, I never offer it.

MySpace Update

I take it back. Well, not entirely. I mean, the vanity thing holds, all those famous Christians who have a MySpace notwithstanding.

But I take it back, because I have discovered all sorts of things through this experience, which are proving really worthwhile.

1. We have a star in our youth group. Matt Truelove is a 16 year old lad in our youth group, and he has an amazing singing voice. I had no idea. But on his site he has some tracks of him singing some songs, and he is genuinely great. I want to encourage him to go for it, cos I am really impressed.

2. I discovered IM - instant messaging, and have had a couple of enjoyable keyboard conversations with Karen in Maryland via IM. Anyone else out there who does this - let me know!

3. I came across the MySpace of Charlie Groves, old friend of many years ago, and he called me, woke me up yesterday morning, and we had a great chat over the phone. As he now lives in Bristol, I hope we will meet up soon.

4. Friends on MySpace are people who may be really close, or just the most casual of acquaintances. So - on my friends list are people I know really well, passing well, slightly, hardly and one or two I really know not at all. (Though we have "friends" in common, who may I guess come anywhere on that list! Chris Tomlin after all has 50,000 friends. I bet he has problems hosting a birthday bash.)

Plus, I've had fun writing the site and messing with photos. So, a pleasant diversion! Try it!

P.S.
Last night I had a sudden migraine set in. Today I have lived in semi-darkness, and it is diminishing. This is only the second bout in six or seven months, the first lasting only an evening back in November, so the current medication is doing a good job. If this calms down quickly, I remain happy. If it settles in, it will be the first prolonged bout since last summer, and that is pretty good going, and still means that I've had the longest migraine-free period for about 3 years. So I am still giving the current medication good marks. We'll see. However, it remains a bit of a shock after so many months to get such a sharp attack.

Marcus goes MySpace

It's true. Click here and see for yourself.

Last night Karen, the BBC producer, said I should get myself a MySpace site. So today I did. It feels like ultimate vanity. So make me feel better. All you fellow MySpacers out there sign up as my friends.

Anyway, a fair few friends do have sites. And some of them are geunine holy people. And what is the difference between that and this? ...Except that this gets to actually say something, and to listen to your responses, other than just advertise ME.

So I made my blurb appropriately self-deprecating in a double-bluff sort of a way.

Wracked with guilt, clearly.

Sign up, sign up!!!

Record Time

Done. At last. My computer tells me it's eleven twenty six as I start to type this on Monday evening. I've just come in, at the end of my working day.

This evening we recorded two short morning services for BBC Radio Wales. The first will be broadcast on Easter Sunday at 8am, the second on June 17th (which happens to be Father's Day - but which has nothing to do with the subject matter of the service). Both can be accessed via the web for a week after they are broadcast on the BBC Wales site - I'll post a reminder for my faithful overseas listeners!

I opened up the church at 4pm and closed it at 11.15pm. Seven hours. They started recording at 7.10pm and finished at 10.10pm, three hours. Record time I think for two broadcasts that will come in at around twenty four minutes each.

Still, if I will involve a cast of fifteen readers and twelve musicians, and ask the moon from all participating, including children, then what can I expect?

Though would you expect any less of me?

And when you hear the broadcasts, please note this: in all those voices you will hear, mine is amongst them. But only amongst them. For we are starting to be a church here where all sorts of gifts and talents and people willing to use their gifts and talents are coming to the fore. And though these are things that take work and time - they aren't half exciting.

So tonight was time to record; and now it is time to sleep.

The Camera Never Lies...

...but sometimes it has a bit of fun.

No, this is not the local council's latest attempt to remove a turbulent priest and his troublesome flock from their midst! The crane has arrived to do its work in erecting the car park next door to us, and from the right angle it appears to be encroaching upon our territory, but the Church in Wales have forbidden it to do so, and Opco (the construction company) have promised it will not, and the site manager (who is a super chap and very helpful) is making sure everything is being done properly. I think...

However, as I walked down the road this evening, the illusion of this shot was too good to pass up, and I though regular readers might enjoy it.

We were offered a significant sum of money to allow the crane to sail over our land, but the Church in Wales and I agreed that the sum offered came nowhere close to compensating us for any inconvenience we would suffer if any damage were to be done to our building. Insurance is one thing, but the hassle we'd have to put up with, and the the conservation issues raised meant that it was really a no go for us.

So they have erected the crane you see - and its tall, raised arm means it never comes over us, even though it is right next door. Watching it in action is fascinating. A bit like the aliens in War of the Worlds - and an eerily similar noise at times as it turns from one angle to the next! I hear it as I shave first thing in the morning, and hope a death ray won't come through the bathroom window...

And the whole town is finally realising that the building that will go up on that site will be really high, and that my words on the subject may not have been so exaggerated. Does that sound ever so slightly like "I told you so"? Forgive me - I think in the circumstances it isn't wholly terrible of me.

Actually, I have got used to it now. Already I am wondering how it will be a blessing for us, and how we can be a blessing to it. A huge office block/car park, the promise of more shops - this means a lot more people right next to us. In evangelism terms, that's a real gift. So: no more Mr Nasty. No more Rev Grumpy. No more Letters to the Editor.

Still,, if anyone wants to pass on this photo...

Singing and Swinging

I promised evidence of my evening with the Byron Jones Big Band. Here are a couple of blurry photos. When I've worked out how to do it, I'll add a link to YouTube for the strong of heart!

And my right leg still hasn't quite recovered from a rather energetic kick in "Ain't That A Kick in the Head". I should know better at my age.

What's funny is listening to the recording of the evening and then seeing the video footage - the songs that sound better are the ones that look dull. The ones that look better, sound pitchy. I guess I need to work on that old stagecraft thing.

Or just the singing.

Hey, I had a great time, and you never know, one of these days I might get to poison the other singers again - I mean, they might not be able to make it again, and I might be asked back!

Too Steep For Comfort

So I'm back home after a week with our parish ski holiday.

What? Your church doesn't do a ski trip? You should complain! And before you start thinking that Pontypridd is a bit more South Kensington than South Wales, I must point you to the excellent Goldhill Holidays, who provide a fantastic service at super bargain rates.

We had nothing but blue skies and sunshine, and if the snow wasn't brilliant, it wasn't bad either. At least a week in the sun has done me a power of good.

As for the skiing...

I had the enormous pleasure of ending up in the advanced class. I was the least accomplished skier in the group, and only blagged my way into it cos I felt a strong desire to really push myself way beyond my comfort zone and this seemed the best way to do it.

And it was great fun. Our tutor, a genial Scot named Andy, took us to all sorts of places I would never dream of skiing by myself, and taught bits of technique that I didn't have. We went off piste from day one on, which was a fairly new experience for me. And we started at "steep" and got steeper!

On the last day, we took the Lauberhorn chairlift. One of the girls wondered why we were doing this - because at the top there would only be two red (intermediate) runs, and one of the easiest black (advanced) runs in the resort. Not that I have never done a black run. And the World Cup course, of course. Oh my, I thought.

Shouldn't have worried. It was much worse. Andy took us off piste, across the mountain, to a slope he of which he said, "now this is steep", and everyone else agreed. Again, a moment's panic for me. I mean, it had all been steep for me, all week. Now they thought it was. Off piste, steep, and full of moguls - bumpy bits for the uninitiated. I can turn on moguls - but have only done it on gentle, shallow slopes. I can do steep - but have only done it on limited areas, not a huge mountainside that is beginning to induce (for the first time all week) a severe bout of vertigo. I can do limited amounts of off piste. But all three? On a slope that was far harder than any black run in the resort? Did I mention I have never done a black run?

Did I mention that I wanted to be pushed beyond my comfort zone? Was I getting my wish fulfilled? Careful what you ask for!

Off we went. Correction. Off they went. I am rooted to the spot in fear. The vertigo has taken hold and all the technique I ever had has simply flown out of my head. Poof. Gone. As the last bloke set off, I said, "I really can't do this." And he went.

Andy was alerted to my predicament by one of the girls. He shouted up the mountain - "Just traverse along to the right and do one long turn". I think the moguls were less severe to the right. And earlier in the week, we had done an off piste exercise where we had just pointed our skis downhill and let them take us on a slow turn out of the slope.

I hear his command. I understand it. I know I have to do something. And I have my own skis - which I know really well. I know that if I trust them, and dare to point them downhill, they won't just keep going, they will bite, they will pull me out of the fall-line and into a turn. If I snatch, I'll turn too quickly and fall. Not a good idea at this angle. I have to trust.

What would you do? The thing with trust is that until you act on it, it doesn't exist. Like it's bedfellow 'faith', you can think you have it, but until you have to use it - you don't really know.

It worked beautifully. Perfectly. I pointed my skis down the mountain, prayed hard, and executed one of the best turns I'd done all week. And I'll admit freely I was shaking all over by the time we reached the bottom, but Andy made a point of looking me in the eye and saying "you can do this" (great teaching manner that chap - full marks) so I went up again and did it again, with a lot less fear. And a third time, likewise.

Mind you, everybody went up for the fourth time - at which point I skiied past them and headed for the Start Bar and a coffee with something quite strong added. I mean, you can have too much of a good thing!

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

It's the second day of snow here in Pontypridd. The first was fun - lots of snow overnight, then pretty morning snow followed by a bit of sun, a quick thaw, a lot of fuss and nothing. Chaos and panic, the local Tesco making £50,000 extra in a day as people filled their freezers (ironically) "just in case". All my appointments for the day were cancelled as people rang up "because of the weather" - which made sense first thing, but not really by 6pm.

This morning, it's snowing again, but there is far more traffic out and about. Clearly people have had enough fun. One day off was all they needed. Or a sunny morning's snow was more appealling than actually a snowing morning to take off.

So the dog and I will stay wrapped up inside the house (pictured), waiting for enough of a break in the weather to brave it outside for a walk. He loves running in the snow - but like the rest of Pontypridd, only when it isn't actually snowing. Otherwise, it's the fireside, a favourite chair or bed for both of us.

And no appointments to cancel - Friday is my official day off in the week. So....

The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go - let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

A Renewing Wonder

This week has several highlights. A smattering of snow making me positively salivate as I look forward to the real thing at the end of next weekwhen I return to Switzerland, for one. Last night's outing with the Byron Jones band - a great experience, and I might write more about that another time. There is audio and visual proof!

But also two unexpected friendships have been renewed this week courtesy of Google. On the left, Chris Berryman, on the right, Jon Timmis.

Chris lives in Florida, but I knew him first in Maryland when I lived out there in 1990. The rather splendid photo is coutesy of the internet movie database - IMDB - (well, I had boasted about my CD being available on iTunes!) though I could have taken it off Signal Centers, the charity for disabled folk he works for. I almost didn't recognise him: he had a beard the last time I saw him, about a decade ago!

Jon lives in York, and we knew each other in Aberystwyth, where he helped me lead the church youth group, and where he was one of my real solid friends. Then I moved to Cambridge, he to Canterbury, other things happened. We lost touch. He found me via Google and the St Caths website. He looks a little greyer than I recall - and his photo is off his academic website at York University (which loses me at the first line, "My research interest is primarily in the area of Biologically inspired computing...")

We are just starting the process of getting back in touch. I hope it works: friendships are precious things, and renewing them a great gift. Unexpected voices from the past are a special delight. They bring back memories and shared journeys, which inevitably have different colours associated with them, and I love this.

My time in Aberystwyth was not all sunshine; nor was Jon's. A renewing of our friendship will take us there again, but also gives us a chance to be friends today, and I think for both of us today is brighter. I look forwards to this.

I haven't really been in touch with Chris since both of us were starting our adult professional lives in our late 20s. I expect we are both the same as we were and yet very different. I really look forwards to seeing how he has changed and grown, and to hear his take on me. And now that he is living quite close to my sister, I'm sure it won't be long before we actually meet up again rather than just do the email thing!

Time is a strange beast. Finding friends who have shared it and used it differently and now share it again fills me with a wonder I want to express but for which I have no words. It's a child-like joy.

Enjoying the moment

Every one needs little things to look forwards to. This week I am singing with the Byron Jones Big Band on Wednesday evening in Newport.

Byron has been running the band for years, and combines some pro musicians with some keen amateurs and some students from the music college in Cardiff. How he does it amazes me - just getting everyone together is hard enough. But finding new music, new arrangements and new musicians when needed - as well as new enthusiasm when you hear the same old excuses. I am full of admiration for him. You can read more about his band here.

Anyway - every now and then I get to sing with the band when the real singers take a night off, and this week is one such week. Thanks to the hard work of Malcolm Jenkins and the South Wales Big Band Society the band have a monthly gig at Burleigh Hall inNewport, a sort of Jazz Cafe; this is where I get my gig.

I even got a rehearsal... though I only got to sing one of the eight numbers I will be doing 'live'. I think that means Byron is happy I can do all the others. As long as he's still happy afterwards.

In a period when church life is as hectic as it gets, and when I am encouraging the guys in the church to be more involved and to be sharers of their faith, I think it really matters (a) that I have some fun, (b) that they see I have a three dimensional life, and (c) not everythingI do happens in the large Victorian building ten feet outside this study window!

Now: all I have to do is remember the words, the music, the rhythm, the keys, the arrangements, the intros, the endings, the timing, the nuance, the feeling, the swing, the...

Oh blow that. Charlie Parker speaking of jazz improvisation said: "Know the changes, forget the changes". It holds for jazz singing. Know the songs, forget the songs: enjoy the moment.

Single minded?

I had an interesting phone call yesterday.

Geoff is a local doctor, and a man on a mission. He has started a link between Pontypridd and Mbale in Uganda. We have supported this in our giving on several occasions. We have hosted joint services. He has often asked me to go over there - so far I have said no.

Yesterday he rang to ask if I was going to a meeting, and as I knew nothing about the meeting I said no. Could I send someone else, he asked?

He is like a dog with a bone. And credit to him - he has a vision for all the churches being linked with this, and indeed all the town. He has created a link between all the local GPs and even the hospital, and the local council, and is doing an amazing locality driven thing the like of which I have not previously seen. This will get you to his website so you can read more for yourself.

However, again I said no. He was clearly put out. This is a vision he has from God. I am saying no to it.

Yes, that's right.

Because I too have a vision from God, and it is a vision for my church here. And as exciting as Geoff's is, my church can't be driven by his vision. His vision doesn't get priority because it's bigger. We will join in, at the right times, in the right ways. But Geoff has no idea what is going on day to day in our church, and I can't drop things in order to make his vision our priority. His church, which meets 200 yards away from ours, has many more people and many more groups, and many more leaders; sometimes I think that bigger churches just don't understand how smaller ones work. I pray that as we grow, we will remember these stages of our life so that we can always help others along the way.

Our priority right now is to learn as a church what evangelism is. To learn how to better share our faith in Jesus with others. This is a scary thing for some, a worrisome thing for others, a fun thing for a few, and an important one for us all. The last thing I can do as pastor of this place is to say, "by the way, if anyone would rather do something else, Geoff has something that might be more fun - go and get excited by that!" And three key people go off and do so; and they come back bubbling, and create a little groundswell about that work, and before I know it, our attempts to make evangelism the centre of our life together have all but evaporated.

When I worked in Aberystwyth, Stuart Bell (the rector there) constantly frustrated people who wanted to do various exciting things. If they weren't exactly what he thought the church should be doing, he said, by all means do it, but it's not a church event or activity or programme; it's your own thing. He was single-minded. It could be so annoying!

But God blesses that place, and I do believe part of the reason God can bless that place is because Stuart is so single-minded. He knows what his vision is. He follows it. He doesn't get blown off course. I pray I may know half the blessing on my church he has on his; and that I may learn at least half the lessons in my life he has in his.

So - I'm sorry Geoff. On the phone you sounded disappointed that I wouldn't come. But I said no because I am trying to follow Jesus and grow the church here. Do I think you are following a vision from God too? Absolutely. Do I think that vision applies to and includes St Catherine's? Quite possibly. But not today. For there are days where - and as a man of vision you must surely know this - in order to see a vision come to pass, you have to be single-minded.

Nadolig Llawen from the dog

If you've clicked on here for my Christmas message - look below. This is an added bonus. Or just keep reading, cos you never know, my random wafflings might pass your clearly wastable time!

Matt (the Springer) is not much one for the presents normally. But here he is, surrounded by the detritus of Christmas afternoon, thrilled with himself for opening all his own gifts.

Who needs kids?

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!

A day or two early, true, but you must realise that in my life the next 48 hours will afford precious little time to stop and offer a seasonal thought or two to you, my more distant (in space, though not in thought) friends.

The year past has been a good one, and this is an appropriate time to pause and say a quick thank you. I may have crept into decrepitude (or at least slipped past the last remnants of my youth) as I hit 40 last month, but there is a lot to be said for the well-being of these years. Not much to prove, and lots to enjoy. Even the persistent migraines of recent years seem to be subsiding a little, and the new headache tablets have helped me shed so much weight I can fit all my favourite clothes again! And I got to meet my namesake, Marcus Green, and his wife Catherine, in Cheltenham in November. A lovely evening, if a little bizarre - meeting someone who has gone through life sharing my name. Still, I think it will be a while before I meet another namesake, who happens to be a serial killer.

On a personal front, I've had several trips (mostly to Switzerland - my skiing skills really are getting quite decent these days), though renewing friendships with Gideon and Michelle in Germany, and seeing Karsten there again was also wonderful. No transatlantic tours this year; my theological fame clearly has its limits - Cambridge and London, which were both fun for me, and I hope worthwhile for the people who came to hear me. I also renewed friendship with several people: Tim Savage, from Oxford - a great reunion, and great to meet his family; also my old English teacher, Robin Taylor, which has been a delight - especially receiving occasional limericks from him. He assures me they are, in fact, from his pal Andy (the poet laureate...) Ricky Carvel, JD Walt and Karen Welborn's blogs have kept me entertained and inspired. And then there was my birthday party. Thank you to all who made the journey over here. I was genuinely thrilled to see you - it means the world that we keep in touch, and to those who couldn't come, thanks for the cards and gifts. You know how much I value our friendship.

It is hard to seperate the personal from St Catherine's. I have so many good friends here now, people who mean the world to me. We had a parish ski trip in February (oh yes, there are real perks to being vicar), and two 24 Hour Worship Times (see elsewhere on this blog). These were stand-out events. But so were our confirmation service, the Tuesday homegroup every week (Andy, Esther, Rhian, Guy, Rachel, Kev, Kath, Gill, David, Sam, Steph, Richard, Val, Naomi, Dan, Kirsty and others too - forgive me), every single Sunday, the growth of our children's work under Naomi Wood's care, new members joining, one or two families really growing in faith, a youth alpha group, and much more besides. The youth group went to see Delirious (a band, if you don't know) in Newport; I wasn't invited. When I first came here, I dragged a small group with me to see them. Now, it happens without me knowing, and I'm not even asked along. Fantastic!

Speaking of music... The "Every Breath" CD continues to sell. iTunes is our main distributor at present. I have had the pleasure of singing with the Byron Jones Big Band this year - and will again in February 2007. My Quartet played a strange gig at the Caerphilly Flower Festival - but the best thing about that was a first opportunity to play with the amazing Osian Roberts. We have seen more of him since, and what a pleasure that has been. Stephen Roberts played a blinder at out 24 hour worship in the jazz hour, and Osian plus Gareth Roberts, Matt Price and the usual rhythm boys (Ed Wiles, Dan Jones and George Wilson) were superb at our Advent Jazz. I had a great week writing arrangements for that; one of our 80+ yr olds came up to me afterwards with a smile all over his face saying, "That's the first time I've ever swung 'Lo He Comes With Clouds Descending'!" Radio Wales have booked us to record their Easter Sunday service for 2007.

Future thoughts: Come and visit! There are lots of rooms in this wonderful Victorian palace Matt the Springer and I inhabit. Enjoy Christmas. Have a good New Year - I'm off to Wengen, skiing and evangelising, suffering for the Gospel over the New Year. God is good, and I am loving life.

Blessings. Merry Christmas!

another year

As I sit here in my study it is almost time for the chimes at midnight to strike the end of my birthday.

A day of humbling joy, a day of cards and gifts and good wishes and generosity that has taken me by surprise. A day that has almost swept my heart away with the kindness of people and the love of God.

I have not been looking forwards to this day. It has felt like the end of something. But the sheer wonder of receiving so much from so many has made it feel far more like the beginning of something. Perhaps I have been looking backwards too much lately: so much, in fact, that I have failed to notice the beauty of the present - which has been the real gift of this day.

On the old organ at St Aldate's in Oxford there was a card with this verse from St Paul, and perhaps I feel the wisdom of it just now: "forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenwards in Christ Jesus".

And there are those chimes, right on cue.

The photo is of me and Matt, this evening, late.

History Boy

Spent a pleasant evening yesterday watching Alan Bennett's play "The History Boys" in Cardiff. The film gave me a great nostalgic trip a few weeks ago - the play less so.

And yet, the final line of the play carried with it a poignancy and a sense of urgent futility that struck me as one of the most beautiful lines I have ever heard from the stage.

After all the "success" of the eight boys achieving their Oxbridge places from their hapless northern grammar school, after their seventh term studies and shenanigans, after their teachers present foibles and future failings are made abundantly clear, after the boys' own ordinary ways forward are revealed, the newly deceased Hector emerges behind them in their grieving reverie to encourage them onwards:

"Pass it on, boys," he urges, "pass it on!" Curtain down.

As I say, I found this to be a stunning end. For in that group of lads, all fail. The communicators (teacher Irwin, journalist Scripps) are portrayed as passing things on - but words and not beauty, self and mockery without self-mockery that makes either tolerable. The one who loves beauty in the abstract - Posner - is seen as lost in his own little world, communicating nothing. The one who chases beauty in the concrete at school (Dakin) now chases unlovely money. The rest vary from the worthy to the warped - but principally are forgettable. Which Hector was not.

Pass it on. To whom? How? It seems they found education was just for exams after all. Irwin won; Hector lost.

And I sat there, thinking of all the teachers I enjoyed at school. Robin Taylor, Jack Longstaff, David Ramm, Lynn Martindale, Graeme Slack, Alan Petford, Mme Lindley, Tim Heavisides, a myriad more. All those at university who made me stand up for myself, like Henry Mayr Harting and Roger Highfield. Those at Wycliffe like Tom Wright, David Wenham and Alister McGrath who made my brain think theologically. And in my life I find myself to be a deeply flawed human being treading in the footsteps of deeply flawed human beings, handling the precious gifts of a faith that is more valuable than I know how to say.

All the gifts those guys gave me at school, university and theological college - skills and visions and imaginings and the like - now fill my life as I hear Hector's words as Jesus' charge to me:

Pass it on, boy, pass it on.

Casino Royale

Loved it. Not perfect, but fantastic Bond. Superb acting, great set pieces, good music (nice nods to former film scores along the way - especially in the brief "falling in love/recuperation sequence", very OHMSS); slightly messy storyline with too many endings - although the final, final ending might be one of the best endings of any Bond movie ever.
Thank goodness for a real actor and a decent director.

Ageing Gracefully

November 1st 2006. So begins my final month of this decade of my life.

Today is that significant birthday for Andrew Dunne, oldest of my friends, in that I have known him (with gaps) all my life. We went to infant school together. In the picture he is at the bottom left, I am at the top right. We are 6, or maybe 7 years old. Mrs Mason's class. These days we both have a lot less hair, and I think are less likely to be seen wearing a tie. (Can you imagine! Six year olds wearing ties! There are probably laws against it now!) I have a fantastic photo taken by him in the school yard when were about ten; me, Darren Greenfield and somebody else, and the graininess of the shot makes us look like street kids from some seventies TV cop show. If Andrew had been in it I'd have used that one. I think perhaps he took it. Happy birthday, Andrew. Older and wiser than me!

Another decade. This month. I received my first card two days ago. I threw it onto the piano in disgust. "I'm not there yet!" Last week I saw a couple of former teachers, one of whom asked, "Which year were you born?" "I'm still the right side of that decade marker," I joked. Just. Skin of my teeth. Finger nails.

I'm not vain, you understand.

But sadly I'm not young anymore either.

5 essential requirments for long term success in ministry

A friend of mine is studying with Hillsongs in Australia. He sent me an email with this question: "What you believe to be 5 essential requirments for long term success in ministry?" And he asked me to give him my answers.

Clearly, he can't just pinch it off Google.

So I had a bit of a think, and came up with the following. Comments please, and better ideas welcome. I'm in this for the long haul, and if you guys can help me (and Chris in Oz) I'd be grateful too!

1) Worship Jesus with all your heart, mind, soul and strength; do it daily and privately as well as weekly and publicly. Make it the core of who you are and be no-one and nothing without it.

2) Live a life of integrity that means people can tell number 1 is happening. It's hard and a real challenge, but without this, number 1 isn't happening. Jesus' litmus test for if people are loving God is: are they loving their neighbour?

3) Do what it takes to keep the passion real. Doing the stuff but losing the passion is every minister's experience and nightmare. It happens. Face it and beat it. Being with Jesus is more than doing his work.

4) Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience.

5) Enjoy! Laugh a lot! Serving God is a blast! Richard Wurmbrand danced for joy in his cell in communist Rumania not cos he was crazy, and not to annoy his guards, but cos he loved Jesus, and even in the midst of persecution was genuinely filled with joy. So - don't look so miserable. God is good. Enjoy! Laugh! Glory!

What do you think?

The Best Worship Service Ever

OK, that's probably overstating things. I mean, Solomon's Temple opening jamboree has to be pretty high. It is concievable that the Last Supper might make it on the list too, as well as Pentecost or something from Revelation 4 and 5. I guess somewhere in heaven a group of Palestinian shepherds will have their own angel choir story too.

But - having said all that - I have just experienced at least two of the best worship services I have ever been a part of. We've just finished our latest 24 hour worship event here. And the whole thing was amazing, even given the terrible cold I have been suffering. Actually, that added to it in a strange way: it made the dynamic of "sacrifice" a bit more real, it cost a bit more, and that probably deepened everything.

Last night at 10pm we had a jazz service. Dan on bass, Ed on piano, George on drums, Stephen on alto, and me singing. As a jazz service, I think the best we've done. Good, flowing worship, really relaxed, and with a great spiritual energy which we haven't always achieved. In part, this was cos I made sure that people stood and sang (sometimes they just sit and listen), but in part it was cos the Lord and I have been walking a strange path in my personal worship times recently. "Singing in the Spirit" is a good charismatic practice; but scat singing in the Spirit is a bit more unusual, and that's been a part of my life with God for a bit, and last night I let rip a bit. Glorious. A tremendous freeing of the soul. One member of church (Jill) said afterwards that she had never seen me so animated! And actually I felt it too.

This morning we had our confirmation service as the last part of the 24 hour event. It was an amazing service - full of praise and worship and the sense of the presence of the Spirit. Now some of you may feel that this is surely only to be expected. Well, I don't think I have ever experienced a service like this in Wales, not even in Aberystwyth. The relaxed presence of God was palpable. The music was stunning (thanks to Kirsty for some amazing string arrangements in both hymns and songs) and all the musicians working with me (George, Ed, Paddy, Dan, Kirsty and her strings) were on top form. The whole church was filled with the Spirit. It was pure joy.

Maybe it comes from being so in love with my church here; but I have had many wonderful worship experiences in other places and still when I got home I sat here and prayed - "Thank you Lord - that was the best worship service ever!"

And regular readers (the three of you) may remember a thing I wrote in August about courage. As I looked out at a congregation made up of our own folk and many visitors, I was aware of some not liking what we were doing. But I was not dis-couraged; the Lord renewed my courage to be faithful to the call he has placed upon me, and as I felt that spiritual en-couraging my spirit soared.

It was a great day. It was a great morning. It was certainly one of the best worship services I have ever known. And now - Lord, bless this church. Grow this church. May we see this again – and indeed I dare ask that may what we saw today pale by comparison with what you are going on to do here.

You can find photos of the day and a more formal write up on our church web site here.

24

It's back! Our second twenty four hour worship time happens at the end of next week - October 14 and 15. We are having more trad hymns, more contemporary praise, our artist Cas Smith is coming, our jazz quintet will be leading us, there will be Taize and Psalms and Poems and lots of Scripture. All of St Mark's Gospel will be read out through the day, and at midnight we will have "Revelations in Music" - all of Revelations (bar chs 2-3) with music from time to time interspersing the really exciting bits! There will be new songs, and a creative hour to write something for the final hour - our confirmation sservice with Bishop David Yeoman. Prayer time and African songs and classical music and Kidz praise. Click here for more info and for our poster.

And if you are nearby, come and join in!

Our job is to worship God; his job is to grow the church.

Sometimes I just love my church

It's true!

When I was at the end of my second curacy, I am afraid I hated Sundays. The pressure that was placed on me by different people requiring different (and indeed mutually exclusive) things was so intense. I stopped sleeping on Saturdays as the pressure grew overnight in anticipation.

But now - I love Sundays. I love my church. I love the traditional folk at 8am, the families at 11am, the space and time to be more relaxed at our 6pm service.

Yesterday was Harvest, and we thought about our generous God. This was helped enormously by an experience I had on Saturday, and I think you might enjoy the story.

So here I am, in my study, preparing a sermon on generosity. In the morning, I've had a text from two of our musicians, Andy and Esther, saying they are free to play (they normally do on the first Sunday of the month) and I've left an answerphone message saying - great! Plus, would Esther like to help lead some of the service? Then I get a phone call from Andy. They sing in a choir loosely attached to a Cardiff church, and the woman who runs the choir has asked them (fairly strongly, I suspect) to go to their church as it is Harvest Festival there. Andy sounds fed up, and says he wants to be with us but they feel like they have to help Gauri. I say, of course you must go, don't worry, see you in the evening.

Then as I put down the phone, I grind my teeth and start to fume at the injustice of it! It's our Harvest too! These are key people for us! Not only are they 1/3 of our musicians, they are a fabulous young couple, and if there are visitors at the service, I want them to see young people at the front! Perhaps I should ring Gauri and let her know that this isn't on. Perhaps I should ring Andy and Esther and convey to them the strength of my feelings. And I am slightly aware of the irony of preparing a sermon on generosity whilst feeling quite selfish about these lovely people, but only slightly.

Instead, I call Kirsty to check she and Dan are playing. And Matthew, Dan's son, who is improving all the time as a guitarist. They are. I tell her about the problem with Esther and Andy. She sympathises. We grind teeth together. We agree to leave it, cos they are probably feeling bad.

I sit at my desk. I stare at the phone. I make a decision, and pick it up, dialling Andy and Esther's number. Gloriously, it is engaged!

And just gently, I feel the Lord's smile, and I hear him say: "You know, sometimes generosity has to hurt to be generosity." If it's easy, if I don't miss it, it probably isn't being generous to give it. The cross is a place of pain and giving - the ultimate generous act from the completely giving God. And suddenly, I get the profundity and the humour of the whole thing. I get the point. I get that I have been given an opportunity to be generous as I prepare this sermon, and I very nearly totally blew it. But for the grace (ie generosity!) of God.

Anyway. We had a great day. The Lord blessed us. There are one or two people just moving into faith for the first time, and seeing them alive with Jesus was a total joy. We are giving to Soteria Trust's Soteria College in Ibadan Nigeria as our Harvest offering, and Naomi had prepared a phenomenal power point presentation about it. I think our folk will really give well to it. And (a bit shamefaced, true, but there you go) I really enjoyed preaching about the generous God who calls us to be generous too.

How was Andy and Esther's morning? You'll have to ask them...

A Simple Quiz

We had a simple quiz in church this morning. Check it out by clicking here! And if you want to know how it fitted my sermon, all I can say is "seamlessly"!

Pope Benedict and the Infidel Apology

When I heard that the Pope had apologised for what he said last week about Islam, quoting (and clearly quoting, not at all suggesting it as his own opinion) Manuel II Paleologus who said: "Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached" - I was horrified.

Why did he apologise?

Why should he apologise?

Firstly, and this may come as a shock to the Muslim world, but the Pope is a Catholic. No, really. And as such he neither accepts Mohammed as The Prophet, nor does he accept Islam as the best and peacable way to God. If this upsets Moslems, they need to get real.

Secondly, irrespective of creed or outlook, in the West we have something called "Free Speech". It allows all sorts of opinions to be expressed fairly and openly, even opinions we don't much like. It is as awkward for George and Tony as it is for the Pakistan Parliament, I am afraid, and we rejoice in it and in its awkwardness. If Islam wishes to airbrush out of history an opinion expressed against it - tough.

Thirdly, the BBC website, in reporting this story, contains these lines:

Hours before the Pope spoke, two churches in the West Bank were attacked with firebombs in what was believed to be a reaction to the Bavaria speech.
And in the Somali capital Mogadishu, an Italian nun was shot dead by gunmen. The shooting may have been connected to strong criticism of the speech by a radical Somali cleric.

So this peacable and non-violent religion demonstrates just how peacable and non-violent it is by reacting to a speech at a university gathering of academics by bombing two churches and shooting a nun. If it looks like a cow, sounds like a cow, smells like a cow, walks like a cow, and signs its cheques "Cow", sometimes it really is a cow.

And if they want us to believe they don't like violence, at some point either they stop the violence, or we stop buying the line.

But then I read what the Pope said today in his apology.

"I am deeply sorry for the reactions in some countries to a few passages of my address at the University of Regensburg, which were considered offensive to the sensibility of Muslims. These in fact were a quotation from a medieval text, which do not in any way express my personal thought.
I hope this serves to appease hearts and to clarify the true meaning of my address, which in its totality was and is an invitation to frank and sincere dialogue, with mutual respect."

Which is academic speak for: Please listen to what I say and don't just go bombing churches and shooting nuns. And if you'd like to stop doing that and actually talk and develop a respect for us, that would be nice too.

I like this Pope. I find myself in complete agreement on this issue.

WebParish

A new blog site for the faithful readership: my church now has a blog page. Any church member can post a blog, and anybody at all can comment. Take a look and see what's going on - not a lot yet, honestly, but I am hoping in time that this will take off!

Tired

Tired, tired, tired. Tired and not sleeping. How does that work? Sleeping and not getting any rest.

A more difficult Sunday - simply because I am tired. God is good though: my basic test of how good a service has been (ie how much people have been touched by God) is how long they take to leave the building. If they run out, it was as bad as I feared! If they linger, the Lord was there. Turns out he was here today, I just missed him in my tiredness.

On Pluto

Thanks to Karen for this observation on the demotion of the ninth planet of our solar system to the status "dwarf planet":

And the winner is...
Gustav Holst. His suite The Planets is no longer out of date, astronomically speaking. Instead it turns out to be ahead of its time.

Though I might add I feel a pang of regret that there are now no major planets named after Disney cartoon characters.

And have all the plutocrats suddenly become wealthy dwarves?

Passion For Your Name

I have just had two well spent days at the Passion For Your Name conference. 1200 people with hearts to worship Jesus and to learn more of how to do and live the same.

Highlights were: an hour of worship led by Mark Beswick, in a black Pentecostal style; getting to sing some of Tim Hughes' new songs; a challenge by J John to evangelise; time with friends; being prayed for; and much more besides.

In particular, as I was prayed for one evening, I felt the Lord speak to me about courage. Sometimes, I know something I want us to do as a church, but as I try to lead some new creative thing, I see a couple of scowling faces and I shrivel inside and end up doing a cautious, passionless version of the thing I intended. My courage vanishes and I am (literally) dis-couraged. I have never seen "discourage" as a "courage" word before. But surely it is: for being discouraged normally means I lose my ability to be creative as fear wraps itself around me, and being "en-couraged" again re-equips me to serve well as I have my courage renewed.

Does that make sense? I was left thinking - O Lord, give me courage! Let me not be dis-couraged and prevented from acting in faith; let me be en-couraged and enabled to be creative and fearless and a worshipper who would walk your paths after you, whatever else may be going on around. Let the scowls not win! Let the courage you give me bless the whole church here. And may we be a church that can, a place of en-couragement for all who come here, a place that builds up every member.

Let's see how that gets answered.

The Rooney and Ronnie Show

Ahh!!!

Day two of the new Premiership season (that's soccer for my faithful US readers!), and United thrash Fulham 5 -1. Enough to bring a smile to the weariest face. And I publicly eat my words after the World Cup, when I was decidedly amongst those who wanted Ronaldo out of Old Trafford. Today was the Rooney and Ronnie Show, and (though I confess to finding it hard to actually like Ronaldo) the Portuguese lad's play alongside Rooney was great to see.

Football is often said to be a modern equivalent of tribal warfare; if so, the World Cup always affects who belongs to which tribe. But now that Nationalism has been put away, and again we are free to enjoy the clearer allegiances of commercial materialism - sorry - Club, Rooney and Ronnie's summer spat is history. It's a heart-warming tale of forgiveness, a lot of money, and a manager that both players are scared of.

Plus, for a while all United fans are free to dream again of glory days: enough of this sunshine nonsense, and roll on the winter, season of rain, mud, red cards and goals galore!

Grief

Love's loss, time's wound, a powerful, powerless, aimless, aching wellspring. Grief is an outpouring of emotion, a scattering of words: enough emptiness to fill a world.

Four and a half years ago Charlie breathed and breathed no more, slept and slept no more, was and was no more.

You'd think I'd get over it; he was just a dog.

And I can't. I try, and I can't. Surely I can have no tears left; yet I cry on.

Grief claws into my soul: if I lie still, he goes deeper; if I struggle, deeper still. I hardly dare think of Charlie now because of this pain; so grief robs me twice of my friend, my companion, my shadow.

Love is... my dog.

Grief's a bitch.

Book thoughts

Reading a friend's blog I came across the follwing questions, which made me think a bit. I wonder what your answers would be - here's mine.

1. Name one book that changed your life.
Well, clearly I am going to go through the same issues as my friend in working out whether or not it's OK to choose something other than the Bible here! But given the Bible, two books come to mind for different reasons. As a young Christian, David Watson's autobiography "You are my God" was life changing. Reading it made me a charismatic before I knew what one was. It really transformed my understanding of God and of what it meant to be a Christian, and it propelled me into my adult faith. And the second book... forgive me, it's my own - Salvation's Song. Not because I think it's a great read, but because writing it changed me dramatically. The year it took re-shaped my ministry and life, and gave me for the first time a theology of the cross which really works for me.

2. Name one book you have read more than once.
So many to choose from! Some of the Bond novels, so many books of the Bible, or my favourite book of George Herbert poems: but perhaps the evocative and wonderful "The Dark is Rising" by Susan Cooper will do. I loved it as a thirteen year old, and I still love it. Dark, moody, wintry, exciting and mystical. A great children's novel, with plenty to satisfy adults too.

3. Name one book you'd want on a desert island.
And now I think I will plump for that collection of George Herbert poems. I'm presuming I have the Bible and Shakespeare anyway, as they are to be found on every desert island. And tempting as taking one novel would be, I think eventually it would grow tiresome. Herbert's poems always have new light, and require being read out aloud, which would be a good discipline in such an environment.

4. Name one book that made you laugh.
Anything by Jasper Fforde. I've just finished "The Fourth Bear", and he never fails to make me laugh. I shall try for ages to find a reason to use his "right to arm bears" line in a sermon.

5. Name one book that made you cry.
Where to start! Maragret Atwood and Amy Tan manage it with every novel. But I think I will choose "Firesong" by William Nicholson, the third in his "Wind on Fire" trilogy, because Chris Holmwood got him to sign a copy of the book for me with a reference to Charlie, my old Springer, who had recently died. Four years on, I can't pick that book up without a tear coming to my eye!

6. Name one book you wish you had written.
Anything by JK Rowling; the bank balance would be a lot healthier! Or anything by Tom Wright - just for the insights he has into Scripture. Or "The Unquenchable Worshipper" by Matt Redman, a tiny, thin book which has a weight of understanding and experience of worship and a commitment to Jesus to which I rarely come close.

7. Name one book you wish had never been written.
Ooh, tricky. Let's find my inner book-burner.
Two close run things and a winner.
First - and forgive me , this is really controversial: what if there had never been the Koran? Would the world be a better or a worse place? I can argue that both ways, so having thought the thought, I shall put it aside and move on.
Second, and also just failing to make it: Silence of the Lambs. Yes, it was a book first. And my sister made me read it - and on the printed page the words and ideas so messed with my imagination that I gave it up and threw it away!
Third, and the winner: the Da Vinci Code. Not because of any theological point, but because if it had never been written the whole world would not have had to sit through the second most tedious movie ever. (The most tedious movie ever being Pirates of the Caribbean, based on a ride rather than a novel.)

8. Name one book you are currently reading.
"Simply Christian" by Tom Wright. It's his basic Christianity book, and has a lot I like and some aspects I dislike. If you are looking for a good Tom Wright book to start with, his "the Challenge of Jesus" was for me far more satisfying. And any of his commentaries in the SPCK "Matthew for Everyone" series will do you good too. I've just finished "non-stop" by Brian Aldiss; good grown-up sci-fi, as well written and thought out as Aldiss always is.

9. Name one book you have been meaning to read.
I could put something pretentious down here, but by now it has become clear I read mainly novels, some of which are children's novels, and a few light theology books for good measure. I have been meaning to read Tom Wright's "Jesus and the Victory of God" for quite a while, but the size of the book makes it unlikely. And I have been sent a book on bereavement which I do mean to read - when I can pluck up the courage!

The post finished there, but I'm going to add a tenth point.

10. Name one book which you thought you loved - but which you hated when you re-read it.
"Cather in the Rye" is an easy answer for me. As an angst-ridden, zit-faced adolescent, I loved it. Really loved it. Thought it summed up the world and all its problems perfectly. Coming across it in an airport, I bought a new copy two or three years back, started to read it, and found myself wanting to throttle poor Holden Caulfield and to tell him, lovingly, to GROW UP! I disliked it (and him) so much I gave up half way through. Whereas, having hated HG Wells' "War of the Worlds" as a teenager, I picked that up at an airport last year and revelled in its sweet and melancholy prose. A beautiful small book that deserves far better even than Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg!

Superman Returned to

OK, I went to see it again. I don't often do this, but I was so disappointed not to be thrilled first time around that I decided to give it a second go.

Well, I knew I wouldn't like Lois, and I still didn't. But I didn't dislike her as much - I was simply left cold by her, which is a sadness both in Superman terms and in simple human terms: Teri Hatcher and whatshername off Smallville never left me like this. Mind you, Teri reminded me of an old girlfriend, which was a mixed up thing in and of itself, and which always served to heighten my Lois-ward reactions (Typical! Wonderful! Oh no! Oh yes!). What I hadn't remembered was just how much Lois there is in the film.

What I wasn't prepared for was how bored I was by the leisurely pace of the whole thing. For an action film, it was tedious. The opening plane wreck was the best thing in it. Go see it just for that - and then go home; you'll save yourself a lengthy 2 hours and more that serve very little purpose.

Ricky Carvel has a great scoring system for films; and some great views on films he likes and dislikes. He's going to dislike this: on second viewing Superman Returns took a nose-dive down to a 4/10.

Every Breath CD Now at iTunes

It's true. Go to iTunes and type in "marcus green big band" and there we are. Ninety nine cents a track in the States, seventy nine pence each here in the UK. Download away!

Gifts and gratitude

On Wednesday I had the enormous pleasure to spend half an hour with my old music teacher, Jack Longstaff. I was visiting the grammar school in Blackburn to hand over a copy of my book for their library, and in chatting to Phil Lloyd there decided to call on Mr Longstaff.

TJL (as he signed himself on all my schoolwork) retired two years after I left school. And that retirement was 20 years ago. So he's in his mid eighties now, but still living in the house where I went as a kid for my piano lessons - a house which remains very much as I remember from that time.

Mr Longstaff was the single most important teacher I ever had. He taught me everything I know musically. He was my piano teacher, and as he taught me to play he taught me to listen and to understand music as I listened. He taught me harmony, and this gave me the practical skills to arrange and to compose. He took all the potential of the boy and enabled me to grow into the musical man I became.

I wanted to see him, because I wanted to say thank you for that gift.

And as I was about to leave he picked up a CD of excerpts from our old school choir and gave it to me. Our school choir under TJL was 250 strong. We did major works. The very first thing I ever sang in any choir was the Verdi Requiem. It remains my all time favourite piece of classical music.

This afternoon I listened to that CD. The sound quality is excellent, and the memories that filled the room were wonderfully tangible. I remember singing in Blackburn Cathedral, and the shock of hearing the orchestra for the first time when we had rehearsed to the piano for so many months. The Verdi Requiem excerpt (from 1979) is the last movement, the Libera Me: right at the end, all of us trebles headed up to a glorious final high C which is really the soloist's domain, and which I have only ever heard one other choir attempt. Absolutely glorious.

Gifts of music, and now gifts of memories. And Mr Longstaff, I am grateful for them all, more than words can say.

Story and meta-story in man and superman

OK if you are still reading following a title like that, I applaud you!

I often use a line when I'm lecturing on my book to get people's attention. It goes like this: Many protestants work on this basic understanding of the Scriptures, that in the beginning God created everything and everything was good. Then man sinned and everything went bad. Then God decided to help by sending Israel the Law, only it didn't solve the problem - how could it? Man was so bad he could never keep the Law. So God thought again and sent his only Son, and he sorted the problem.

I know this is really simplified, but does it sound familiar? I hope not because it is total rubbish. The cross isn't plan B! The cross is always gloriously plan A. So why did God give the Law? So that we can understand plan A when we see it. The Law is fundamentally about how to worship God, and then how we should live together in the light of worshipping this God. And if we don't get this meta-story right, this world view, this biggest of big pictures, then all our attempts to understand the stories within, the details that make up the bigger picture, we will inevitably get the detail wrong. Only a church that doesn't understand what the Law is (ie about worship first) would imagine sin was primarily about the moral things we struggle with. This makes us fuss about sexuality as if this is God's fundamental issue with humanity. Drivel. Get the meta-story right, and all the details will fit nicely.

So: Superman. Here's the thing: my big picture, my meta-story (like everyone else's) is set by my first real Superman exposure. I know this. And for me, it wasn't the 1970s films. It was Lois and Clark in the 90s. So Clark as clutz is totally alien (to use an appropriate word) to me. And more importantly, Lois and Clark (and self-evidently Smallville) makes this important choice: which one is real - Clark or Superman? - answer: Clark.

Clark is the real person, and the blue tights are the disguise so that we don't recognise Clark at his other job. Whereas I think if you grew up with Christopher Reeve, and now the new movie, Superman is the real person and Clark is the disguise so we don't recognise Superman at the office.

Which is why I dislike the new movie so much. It makes the wrong choice on the central character. It makes the wrong one the "real" one. Everything else is skewed by this basic choice. Nightmare. Meta-story sets the deatils, and if the wrong picture becomes the big picture, I don't want to see it.

We all agree; Lois is terrible. Everyone I know uses the word "feisty" to describe Lois, and Kate Bosworth just doesn't have that. But the problem with this movie is greater - in terms of my lengthy intro, it misunderstands the cross because it thinks it is plan B. So everything is misunderstood.

Make Clark the real person and everything about Superman works. Make Superman the real person and Houston, we have a problem.

Gone Fishin'

Day two of my holiday. Glory. How I love holidays.

I went to see Superman yesterday: visually stunning, but character-wise not exactly how I see it all. Alas. So a mixed feast. And now I am in the splendid home of John and Clare, along with their sons Micah, Simeon and Daniel. Matt is with me, very much enjoying the female companionship of Sheba. (Cue mental "Arrival of Queen of" music) Sometimes I worry that Matt doesn't have the famed Queen's paramour's discretion with the ladies.

And I got to see John at work - Juggling John - eating fire and escaping from chains and a straightjacket. Wonderful. Doing what he loves, entertaining the crowds, and doing it very well too.

And though this is day 22 of my current migraine (never fear - the record is still six months off!) my head is cooling nicely and I think the end is in sight. Which is good. Holidays are great for de-stressing, and even on day 2 the ability just to sit with a book, or read a paper, or spend time writing the blog, or watching a film, or walking Matt in a beautiful park and eating a cake from Raymond Blanc's place on St Giles - just the chance to do these things does a man good!

Holidays mean health. It's as simple as that. Thank the Lord for such precious gifts, and may the rest of these two weeks be equally wonderful.

Heroes and Dreams

So the second series of the new BBC Doctor Who is over. And tomorrow I get to see the new Superman movie. I confess: these are two of my favourite heroes!

I love both. One is enigmatic, a loner, filled with a sense of right and justice, prepared to put himself in harm's way to protect those he loves, always in the right place at the right time, both magical and mystical, bringing hope into the lives of those he touches. And the other is... pretty much the same with a cape. Of course in the 70s, both had capes, though Jon Pertwee's Doctor's cape was a rather small natty retro-Edwardian thing. And Superman never had a Tardis. Though of course the popular picture does involve him using a phone box to change in.

Well there's a question: is the Doctor really Superman?

And I'm not going to answer it. Well, not really. Well, a bit. Well, OK if you insist...

Both are pictures of a need in humanity met by an outsider. Story after story presents ordinary people in great peril (though occasionally the danger is limited - think of Superman rescuing a little girl's ice cream from hitting the floor - or the Master taking over Perivale) not knowing how to deal with the situation in which they find themselves. So along comes a hero to help.

I rather like that the hero in the current Doctor Who series is a tainted hero - he may heal, but he may also hurt. The Doctor is a force that is beyond human niceties, and those who get too close find themselves likely burned by the experience. This is Saturday evening hero-dom way beyond the simple charm of Lois and Clark. Yet still he comes out of the ether and saves the day. It is a myth as old as history: because it is a need as old as humanity. Clothing it in a blue box or blue lycra makes it fresh and new, but actually a huge part of its power is its comfort which in turn is its familiarity. We don't need these heroes re-invented for today - just spruced up a bit and told well again. We need heroes because we need hope, and part of that hope is surely that part of us might inhabit that cape or that police box.

Ask yourself when you watch these shows: who are you relating to? When you watch, is it the family in the car about to be hit by a meteorite? ("Oh that could have been us!") Or the mechanic on the space station who is about to be possessed by the evil aliens? ("That's just like when I was at work last week!") No! It's not even very often Lois or Rose/Sara Jane/Leela/Romana/Jo/Susan etc etc. It's the Clark who is ordinary but special, the Doctor who is vulnerable yet triumphant. These aren't Messiah shows with ersatz Jesuses working modern day miracles to feed the TV masses; these are escapist wonders which raise the hearts of the humdrum to a glimpse of being something greater. And I love them for it.

I don't need another Saviour - I have one. And I don't dream of being him. (Surely even in the extreme worlds of geekish fandom surely no-one worships Colin Baker or Tom Welling?)

But what I do need, what we all need, what we desire and enjoy and revel in is the pleasure of the fantasy that if we were the hero in the story we would be that good too. "That could be me." Of course it couldn't. I can't fly/travel in time/deflect bullets/regenerate. But that's not the point - it's escapist! It's fantasy!

If I can't have big dreams how small a life would I be left with?

We are right to want life to be better. We are right to want the monsters defeated. We are right to dream! This is what it means to be human. Thank God for the people who tell us these stories and remind our imaginations of these great truths.

Life and death and worship

A friend of mine has just sent me an email with this great line in it:

"Much worship is designed to be instrumental for the sake of mission rather than an ultimate place of doing mission."

I think this an accurate observation that deserves a little time being spent over it. Cos what lies behind this position, and what my friend is critiquing, is the basic assumption that worship is not the gospel; we need to give people the gospel, and worship might entertain people whilst we do so or it might even create a good ambience in which to preach at them. But it is an extra, not the core: the icing, not the cake.

This same friend last September whilst I was visiting Kentucky made a comment on a song we both know: "Let worship be the fuel to mission's flame". He said - "but worship is the flame!" And I said, "Amen!" It was the most profound thing I have ever heard in Kentucky.

AW Tozer puts it this way:
"Jesus was born of a virgin, suffered under Pontius Pilate, died on a cross and rose from the grave to make worshippers out of rebels!"
The point of the gospel is to make worshippers; indeed the force of the gospel is "We can worship God!" Which is to say through Christ we can do and be what we were made to do and be, being saved from doing and being anything else (which clearly can't be as good). So worship is essential to mission - because how can you experience or even talk about this good news without experiencing the truth and power of the true and powerful worship of Jesus? This is indeed the cake, and a very good cake at that.

Let me slice this cake another way.

Really often just lately I get this question thrust at me: what happens to people who don't know Jesus when they die? (They are asking if their friends and family will be OK in the hereafter, or does our gospel exclude the people we love.) But this totally misunderstands the gospel. We are not the travelling salesmen and saleswomen of a heavenly insurance package. We are not! The good news of Jesus Christ is that through him and in the power of the Spirit we can worship God today! Let us not be so fixed upon future destiny that we forget today's reality. Indeed - forget the future: are our friends and families worshipping God today? No? Then who or what are they worshipping and why are we leaving them there? This is the question we need to have: what is happening to people who don't know Jesus when they live, never mind when they die. Let's sort out today for tomorrow is gloriously in the Lord's hands.

Seeing worship at the heart of the gospel places worship at the heart of how we communicate the gospel, and also fundamentally questions how we view people who live outside the gospel.

Salvation's Song on Offer!

My book has hit the remainders bin. It's official. Kingsway have put it on their special offers page (www.equippingthechurch.co.uk/index.php?cPath=171_201&page=2 ) at half price. So if you never quite got around to it, now is the time to buy!

24 Hour Praise People

And still my heart is soaring.

For a new vision is beginning to grip me - a vision of calling others to join in our salvation songs, a vision of 24 hour praise people across the land taking the time to worship Jesus together. What if next time it's not just us and David's friends in India, but many churches all over the place joining together for 24 hours of worship? What if the idea of 24 hour worship were not just to be a calling for St Catherine's in Pontypridd, but a calling for all sorts of churches to join in with?

So I am writing to friends and asking them to pray. I am praying that the idea will stir hearts and souls and cry out to people to join us. We are a generation that has seen an amazing revolution in worship, but now to our songs and our bands and our skills and our equipment we add perseverance and an unstoppable desire to be with Jesus.

I had a perfect day in 2005. January. I was in Wengen. Every part of the day was perfect - the skiing, the weather, the food, the time with people, the time alone. It was a perfect day. I felt amazingly well, and knew it was a special day as it happened. Not just a good day - a perfect day. Last weekend was like that, but more so. And so was Monday. And Tuesday was pretty good. And so today (Thursday) is too. I want to invite Christians to take part in a Perfect Day of praise. We are going to do it again here. I can't wait!

Let me know if you want to join in.

The Day after the Day

So - it is now a day on from our day of worship. I slept well last night!

And the interesting thing is - I feel really well. I mean, I feel really well. Totally at peace, content, happy. I guess I should expect this; after all I've just spent 24 hours worshipping Jesus. If there is any reality to faith in Jesus I should be feeling great! But I didn't expect this.

Which makes me feel a bit stupid! I mean, so often I teach from the Gospels and point out that when people spend time with Jesus they get transformed; his good health is catching and people get their lives turned the right way up. Yet I didn't expect it for myself, didn't go into this looking for it, didn't try to make it happen.

God is good. Honest.

24 - One day of worship

24 hours of worship. A perfect day.

Back in Febrauary, I heard Jonathan Wilmot from Greyfriars Reading preach a sermon in Wengen, in which he referred to the Hebridean revival; the people there simply trusted that if they prayed and repented, God would bless them. It made me stop and think: should we do that here at St Catherine's?

I live by 13 words: my job is to worship God: His job is to grow the church. And it seemed to me to be the Lord's leading that if we as a church did our job, we could be sure he would do his. So the idea for a perfect day, 24 hours of worship, began to form. A further conversation with Jonathan the next day gave me the date for our day of worship - Pentecost 2006. Today.

So with the worship team here we began to plan. We created a day that would embrace all the worship styles of our church, and more besides. Jazz, organ hymns, praise band, taize, art, kids praise, silence. We also wanted to demonstrate the importance of Scripture to us, so we decided to read out loud the whole of St John's Gospel during the day - a chapter for nearly every hour. Dan Jones came up then with the idea of me reading out St Paul's letter to the Romans, which he would intersperse with some guitar suites adapted from JS Bach.

So we did it. It started yesterday at noon, and finished today at 12.30. It was one of the most awe inspiring things I have ever experienced. Time and again I was struck by the power and the beauty of our God as we worshipped. The variety of styles kept everything fresh, but the constancy of the experience of worship kept everything real. Four of us did the whole day; four more only missed small amounts. We were seldom in single figures (amazingly we were 11 for Romans and Bach at 3am!!) and the biggest crowds (apart from the celebration service to end the day) were at the Songs of Praise (old fashioned hymns) hour, and at the Praise Band (contemporary worship) hour. I think that represents us well! Friends in India of church warden David Carver prayed with us through the day - I look forwards to hearing how it was for them.

Tears and laughter, deep moments of awe, simply a sense of the Spirit of Jesus - these were at the heart of the day. Seeing the sun begin to rise as we read through Romans, and the day dispelling the night was amazing. And the kindness of people - Julie Davies making a lunch for me afterwards, and dropping it round to the house touched me enormously.

So Lord: we are doing our job. I know you are doing yours. I look forwards to seeing how this church grows. And please don't let me forget the power of this day. It has been perfect.

Easter Hymn

The Lord is here! He stands among us now
In risen glory and with smiling grace
He speaks His peace, He breathes His Spirit's power,
And warms us with the light of Love's embrace.

We see the hands that nails have pierced and torn,
The marks of grief upon His feet and side:
These victory scars with joy are gladly worn,
They say with triumph this day death has died.

The night is gone and daylight is restored,
Our fears are banished by the hope He brings:
With trembling knees we bow before our Lord
To be raised also by our King of kings.

So now we stand with songs of rising praise
And sing the anthem which can know no end:
Confessing Jesus ever and always
Our Lord, our God, our Saviour and our Friend.

After St John 20.26-28
Tune: Woodlands 10 10 10 10