resting

So after a month at home, I find myself resting once more. A planned break - planned since last summer, before all the unscheduled interlude of these past weeks. It's nice to be in the warmth again.

In the grand scheme of things, this strange period of my life will pass, and I will look back at it with wonder. With gratitude for friends at home and away, with deep knowledge of the God who has held me through these days, with wonder that a body can take quite so much stress. And then forget it and live on.

So I sit in the sunshine, resting. And plot my first encounter with an iPad. And think about Biblical images and ideas that refuse to leave me alone. And begin to to be dimly aware that soon I must plan for what lies ahead...

The Nicest Things

My day has been made by two tweets on my twitter home page. Chad & Josh from Asbury - I was really touched! I found the times in the chapel there genuinely inspirational, and though I didn't talk about it much with you guys, I'd been having a rough ride & those times made a real difference to me. As did your friendship. And BBQ. Though my stomach never quite got the hang of that Chinese restaurant...

Wengen (3)

One of the pleasures of visiting here is renewing friendships and spending time with people over meals and in cafes and hotels and homes.

Maggie is always a delight - and a meal at her house is a joy, given her husband's culinary skills. And apple schnapps. And mandarin ice cream. Everything home-made, you understand. Andy & Ulli talked trees, and the rest of us simply indulged...

I have been surfing the finer establishments of the village: Sheridan's on Friday, Paul & Sarah's on Saturday, and I have been well fed and watered. And even more importantly the company has been superb.

Also on Friday I had a lovely lunch with Jutta, and as ever we prayed and shared how the Lord has blessed us through the year. I look forwards to seeing how her move to Austria works out.

But tonight it's back to the meal rota and supper at the (better left unnamed) Hotel. Four of us were there on Wednesday. The worst meal I have ever had in a hotel. The worst. We were all appalled by it and commenting on how terrible it was - till the waiter came and asked, "Everything OK?" At which point we meekly nodded and said, "Oh yes, thank you," and then as he walked away laughed at how we had fulfilled such a British national stereotype! Tonight I (a) hope for better, and (b) if necessary promise not to do so badly on the honesty stakes...

Wengen (2)

It's been a busy week.

When Gill and Ben left, I was desperately sad - we'd had too little time, and I always love seeing them. Teaching Ben some of the basics of skiing was real fun, and any other year I would have had far more time in my first few days in the chaplaincy to take him up and around. But that's how it goes. Plus - their jinx on snow hit here: it was overcast and mild until they left, when the snow started to fall hard, and then we had beautiful white streets here in Wengen ever since...

And sunshine...

But I was delighted to have Andy and Esther staying. As friends, as colleagues. We had a great time together. On the day after Gill and Ben left, I had a lazy day - trying to finally rid myself of my cold and prepare for Sunday - whilst they reminded themselves of the resort. On Sunday, we had two lovely services, with far more people in church in the morning than I expected. Andy & Esther helped out, and then we skiied through the afternoon sunshine. Beautiful.

On Monday I took Maggie Gerber's advice and purchased the local cough mixture to put the lid on my terrible cough which has continued for weeks now. Well - it certainly works. However, it almost put the lid on me aswell... I got every side-effect in the small print and spent Tuesday writhing in bed! Esther took my place at the weekly DHO drinks party to advertise the role of the chaplaincy in the community. She went down very well.

Wednesday - much better. And we had a full day. Thursday - Andy and Esther spent some time praying for me, for my work here and at home, just for me personally. Time I valued enormously. Then off we went - and attempted some great runs, with only one slightly defeating Andy...

They've gone now. Hopefully, all flights to Bristol are on... and still will be when I need to get home on Tuesday. Having them here has been a real gift.

Evangelistic highlight of the week so far?

Well, who knows how many may have been helped through the memorial service. But I had the real pleasure of sharing supper with a family at the Belle Vue one evening, and the two splending children started to ask me about my faith: "But do you believe everything in the Bible?" "Is Jesus really the only way?" The 12 year old apparently turned to his mother (she told me later) and said: "He's a really good teacher," so I guess something went well!

I'm tired, happy, glad to be here, and getting ready to come home. Still more to come...

Wengen

So it's been a busy start to my time in Wengen this year. Come, I said to Gill, bring Ben - the first couple of days are always quiet. It will be great to show you the resort, I'll teach Ben a bit of skiing, we'll enjoy the snow - it'll be fantastic.

To Andy & Esther I said - come help me with the chaplaincy. The first few days are always quiet, so come for the weekend, and then we'll see what there is to do! We'll meet people, ski, share faith, you'll see what I do here.

And to be sure, I have taken Ben out; we did carve some time for me to get him up to the beginners bowl on Scheidegg, and he really enjoyed himself in the blizzard conditions up there. He even skied without falling over (much) on the second day! (Though I have never seen anyone take my instruction to lean forwards so much to heart that his head hit the ground... I took it for granted he'd look where he was going!)

But by the time A&E arrived, I had spent the best part of two days preparing for and then taking the memorial service for Myles Robinson, the unfortunate young man who tragically died here in Wengen just before Christmas. His family have been amazing, and with the help of good friends of theirs we put on a two-hour service, allowing people to come into church, pray, light a candle and write in a condolences book. At the end of the time, I said a few words, and also invited the local Swiss Pastor Jan Madjar to do the same. And we prayed.

It was an amazing and beautiful event. Over 300 people came through the church. It had been our intent that folk would take their candles with them as a memory of Myles, but quite quickly they started to plant them in the snow outside the church, and the unplanned thing was a thing of rare wonder and heart-rending glory.

Some kind people commented that my words were perfect for the day. But the day was perfect to itself. And now the family have left for England, and for the rest of their lives still stretching out so enormously altered.


I closed the church up, and allowed myself to break for a while. It is the nature of the job that we are required to be strong for all around, but at times that strength, given by God as it is, comes at a cost. And then I was glad to be able to walk down to the Bellevue, to Gill & Ben, to Andy & Esther, to friends and family and to a good meal and the least introspective year-turning I have allowed myself for some good time. On some occasions, reflection is overrated.

Merry Christmas

I've travelled through snow and ice, through traffic beyond belief, to England (which was officially closed - the bridges, both of them were shut) and back, to friends and with the dog all the way, returning home to a burst water pipe and no heating, and tonight at our Midnight Service, Aled spoke of journeys and how travelling together is better.

So I would like to wish all who travel with me a very warm seasonal greeting, and add my concurrence to Aled's thoughts. All of us at times feel that the way is lonely and the road uncertain; but that photo on the previous posting is a picture of intent - we do this together. Christmas is the season when above all others we hear the angels sing God's heart that we do this together - that we are not alone, that he walks the paths of this world with us, and so the snow and the ice and the fear and the closed bridges and unexpectedly long detours are not things we cannot bear.

For there is a Saviour. Someone who makes life safe.

Thanks to those who comment and those who just read, to those who constantly peruse these pages and those who dip in, to those who stop me in Tescos to ask questions and those who email me or phone. I wish you Joy; I wish you glory; I wish you peace. I wish you all that this season foretells and promises and whispers and shouts, and I wish it today.

* * *

A burst pipe and no heating? But a wonderful plumber who was here in no time and sorted it out. The journey is not free from pain, but with help and good company and the right person at the right time, even the pain is not a total disaster. Blessing will shape us if we let it.

Merry Christmas.

(Later)
I am overwhelmed as ever by the generosity of people - thank you all. I cannot list every gift and giver here, but I am grateful to every one - more than I can say. And Matty too! Both of us are relaxing after lunch now, and after visiting someone in hospital and taking a beautiful walk in Castle Coch woods - snow on the ground, sun in the sky, perfect. Thank you, to all and above all, to Jesus, who has filled our hearts to overflowing today.

OK.

OK. We walked in the snow this morning, and then drove to Cardiff for Matt's scan.

He has a small cyst on his kidney, and very high blood pressure. His blood levels and the protein in his urine show chronic renal failure. Kidney disease. On the down side (it's some down side) there's no cure - dogs don't get transplants. On the upside, we have caught it very early, and first we will try some medication, then we'll try to get his blood pressure down, and maybe then we'll see a specialist to see if there's anything else to be done. We may change his diet. He's nine. He might live really well for years - a presumptive diagnosis isn't written in stone on a memorial tablet.

And yes, I feel rotten. But God is God, and I will praise Him; or, as Habakkuk puts it:

Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Saviour.

Here We Go Again...

Matt has been having skin problems. Can't spell it, but you wouldn't want it - scales and flakes all over his back, and at the same time something similar which may or may not be part of the same condition around his eyes.

Simon, Matt's Vet in residence, called in Nicola, his skin expert, to make sure we were doing the right thing. She prescribed antibiotics - which Matt vomited up: he doesn't like antibiotics. Eventually, with the help of medicine they give to dogs having chemo so they keep their stuff down, he took them. And is getting better.

But...

Just to make sure that's all it was, we did some blood tests. And a urine sample. Oh yes. I had to sort that bit out. (I originally wrote "I had to do that bit" but realised one or two of you might misunderstand!) I'll let you imagine the fun that was.

These tests had a slight spike on them - nothing amazing - but one level was maybe just over what you'd expect. A kidney indicator. So we did them again a couple of weeks later. Second set were slightly higher than the first set. And today, a couple of weeks on, we did them again. Third set higher still. All still not exceptional. None of them the kind of thing you'd bring a dog into the vet's for. All of them too low to be showing any outward signs -

Well, he's a bit off his food, and I think he's lost a bit of weight. I'd put that down to being on the antibiotics. None of this has anything to do with the skin stuff. If he hadn't been going in for that, none of this would have been spotted.

None of what?

We don't know. But on Monday he's having a scan on his kidneys, just to see. Here we go again. O Lord, thank you that if there is something that needs looking at you made us look at it. And please - make Matt well.

Christmas Present!

St Catherine's application to the Big Lottery Fund has been successful!

We asked for £104,066 to complete our fund for salaries for the children's worker (St Catz Kidz) and senior worker (St Caths Plus) and the Big Lottery have granted us £109,106 - because they say we made an error in our National Insurance calculations, and so we need slightly more than we thought.

How amazing! More than we asked for!

The Big Lottery Fund has been more than helpful throughout the whole process, and though the application process is not easy, they have been fair and several times asked us again to check details - right up to the last minute as they were making decisions. We found them excellent.

And of course we are really grateful - to them, to everyone who helped us in the course of the application, to all who wrote in support of us, to political voices across the spectrum, and to our God who answers prayer. This is the most wonderful Christmas present.

It means that both workers are now secured for three years - full time. And as we have only just begun the St Caths Plus project, this is especially exciting there. We shall take time to make sure we are making all the right decisions and hope to have further news on that front soon. Our aim as a church with these projects is to make people's lives better in every way we can, and we are thrilled that this grant makes the work we are doing secure for the foreseeable future.

Jane Davidson, our Assembly Member, is also delighted with this award. She says:
“I am delighted that the team at St Catherine’s has received this much needed funding, and look forward to seeing the great benefits the money will bring. I would like to offer my congratulations to all those involved, and would encourage anybody interested in the facilities on offer to pay a visit to St Catherine’s.”

Esther Sowerby, who headed up the fundraising, is pictured here with me, holding the cheque from the Big Lottery Fund. (It's a publicity cheque - we can't actually take this one to the bank!) She also runs the St Caths Plus pilot project at the moment, and today, as the news is announced, is taking 30 of the members of that project on a trip to see the BBC National Orchestra of Wales at the Hoddinott Hall in Cardiff Bay.

Over the first term of St Caths Plus project, up to seventy older people have benefitted from the work Esther and her volunteers have done - and that's from a project that has been running just two days a week. As we now consider how to make it full time, alongside Trish Tazzini-Lloyd and the very successful St Catz Kidz programme, we face an enormously exciting time. Jesus tells us to love God and to love our neighbour. We believe in caring for all in our community and hope these projects go some way to making life in Ponty better for many, many folk.

Can't tell...

I just can't tell you. I'm really sorry. No, I can't.

I had a wonderful piece of news today, but it's embargoed till December 18th. So I'm not allowed to publish it. It's nothing to do with the church hall, in case one or two of you are thinking about that.

And in the midst of feeling pretty low, a good day with good news is a real blessing.

O - I so want to tell you. Shhh - I mustn't. Not allowed - I'd better go now -

Getting Back On The Horse

Or the hearse, to be more accurate.

Life goes on, and so does death. My context is to have a tragedy and then keep on helping others through theirs. So today I buried somebody else; another family and different tears. Stories I don't know, and grief that I safely observe without drinking too deeply.

The way we would all rather do grief.

Of course, I haven't just switched off from Rob and his family. His father sent me an email last night, with further kind words about the things I have been trying to do for them, and some of you who were there on Monday have been generous in leaving facebook comments.

George and Elaine, Rob's parents, have a special grief, it seems to me. In addition to losing their only child, they have purposefully arranged for his burial near to their grandchildren - who live with their son's estranged and almost divorced wife. They are old, and will not often get to see their son's grave. They took photos of his final resting place so they have a memory of the spot. Gone his voice on the phone, his visits, his emails, and gone even a chance to pop out and leave flowers and shed a tear for these elderly folk who now mourn their son in absentia.

Just off junction 11A on the M5. Well, I might drop by, I pass that way occasionally.

I was thoughtless to my own mother when I returned on Monday - no, not thoughtless; but I appreciate she needs me to be more communicative, and I was unable to speak. I was unable. Disabled by the day.

People should be. Why? Is not Rob in heaven? Is this not a good thing? Of course; but I grieve not for Rob - not for his state, not for his life with Christ, though perhaps there is a sadness that he has not lived to share his children's growing up; every parent would want that. I grieve for George and Elaine. For his marriage to Ruth which had ended though Ruth always hoped it had not. For his children growing up without their father. For the people from a former church who emailed me such a sad letter that I could not even bear to reply.

I grieve a friendship. A man younger than I. A human being with talent and promise and capable of so much. Gone. And yes, the Lord has a better plan than I, but in my ignorance, I grieve. I miss Rob. Though in recent times we had not been as close as once we were. I grieve that was my fault.

And get back on the horse and watch others do the same thing. It is life. We carry these things, and if we carry them, then we must carry them to the cross. Not alone. Asking for help, for (at the least) a helping hand to bear the burden, and hopefully for one stronger than us to take them from us altogether. In time. If possible - if we can learn to trust and let go.

"Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest."
O to find rest for my soul.
O to find rest.

another year

Ryan Giggs shares my birthday. He prefaced his 36th birthday by scoring his 100th Premiership goal yesterday: congratulations Ryan! Though Wayne Rooney took the plaudits with a hat-trick, and so United won 4-1.

Hat-tip too to Cas Timmis and Simon Davison who share the day - Simon also being the same age as me today. I'm not aware what either of them did yesterday. I had a fairly ordinary day, waiting for a postal delivery and preparing for a quite Sunday - quiet because Esther is speaking this morning so I just have the evening to look at, though the passage is an obscure bit of Revelations...

The day is also the eve of tomorrow, and Rob's funeral. I am looking forwards to seeing friends there, and to celebrating friendship with them. It will be a time to say what matters - and what matters is this: God gives us many gifts, but the most valuable are each other. I am who I am, and for all sorts of reasons am the kind of person who doesn't wear emotions on my sleeve. But were it my funeral tomorrow, I would not want "achievements" mulled over and rehearsed for all to consider; it's the friendships & relationships we are given and which we create that make life so rich. Rob was a rich man. So, as I celebrate this day, and am again touched by so many good wishes, am I.

Moving On

I started to write this, to say that I have been unable to write anything since the previous post, because I am unable to get past Rob in my thoughts this week. I have done and said things, but to move beyond my dear friend seems somehow not right.

I started to write this - when the phone rang and it was George, Rob's Dad, calling me to say that Rob's funeral has now been set for Monday November 30th at 1pm in St Phillip and St James Hucclecote, followed by a service in the crematorium.

So. I will write soon of other things. But not just yet.

Robbed

Strangely, I do remember Toby Scott being there. Toby is now Director of Communications for the Methodist Church of Great Britain and writes occasionally for the Guardian. And Richard Bowker too, former head of National Express, now building railways in the UAE. And author Mike Hampson. He was there.

But Rob Graham? I've never recalled him. Yet he says I was responsible for his coming to faith that weekend our school Christian Union spent in Grassington Congregationalist Church.

How typical. Rob wasn't about flash and surface and being noticed. He was a worker - someone who made things happen, who got things done. I'd see him do the things I did sometimes and want to plead with him not to: why would he want to trade in all the qualities of life he had and add to them the flighty things that I had?

After QEGS, I went to Merton college Oxford. He followed three years later. After Merton, I became lay-assistant at St Aldate's. Rob followed that too. After St Aldate's, I went to Wycliffe Hall to train for ordination. Rob stayed a while at St Aldate's, being an administrator for the student work, though he really wanted to be a worship leader. A pastor. A preacher. And sure enough - he then went to Wycliffe Hall to train for ordination.

George (Rob's dad, who I think I met first when I cycled over to Rob's house in Garstang one summer, when we were both still at school & George and Elaine were running the Methodist church there) said to me this weekend "I don't think you realise how much he thought of you".

But it was I who was the silent one in this friendship. I, the eternally taciturn and unemotional, who would have left no clue of my feelings for such a good and broken and imperfect and wonderful friend.

He came to me when his marriage was in trouble - and sought my help. I fully understood. I fully grasped everything he said. And yes, eventually, having promised him no judgement, I fully judged him in the end by losing patience with him. When someone you trust highly lets you down it's never easy; I let him down. And he cut the communication. I don't blame him. And when he tried to re-open it, I was slow to respond. Pride, you see.

Eventually we slowly thawed, with bits of internet chat. I was looking forwards to seeing him in due course. We had all the time in the world.

Till a Mercedes outside Chesterfield on a rainy, windy night ploughed into Rob's car, and then there was no time for any of us any more. His final act was to keep his children safe, but not himself.

It's not the guilt for having been imperfect in a friendship. It's the pure sadness at not being able to say how much I value him to his face. It's the shock of discovering the truth of this only when it's too late. Stupid, stupid.

Memories of of singing in York Minster & of recording together with Indra's choir, of school, of St Aldate's, of his licensing in Nailsea, of praying with Rob and Catharine Morris and having lunch together, of Ruth and Rob's wedding - where I played trumpet in Merton Chapel (and yet we remained friends - how much punishment can a person take!) and of all those terrible sweaters he wore.

But now my friend you have gone before me and it is my turn to be the one who follows in your footsteps. The roles are reversed. You see face to face the One I see only by faith, dimly; but though I tarry, I shall be there one day. Our paths have been linked too long, so accept my sadness at our recent silence, and know how much I think of you.

Dear Lord Jesus, grant to Rob a peaceful rest and a glorious rising. And to all of us who have been robbed of our Rob, your Spirit's comfort, please.

Public Service Blogging

I bought two new CDs for the long car journey down from Lancashire to Pontypridd today. The Pursuit and The Performance. Any similarity in the CDs kind of stops in the titles... although I did enjoy both of them. And, in the interests of public service blogging, I thought I’d share my reaction to them.

Firstly: Jamie Cullum. I think that to get this guy, you have to enjoy pop and jazz. He writes nice simple pop that is so intelligently jazzy it blows your head. And such good jazz that has amazingly sensible pop credentials it makes jazz musicians swoon with envy. Time and again I loved the way he melded the two together. I couldn’t see how it would happen – and yet it did, either by rhythm or piano or vocal inflection or just feel.

His lyrics are pop, not jazz. But the whole package is an amazingly brilliant combination, in a way that fellow pianist Peter Cincotti completely failed to do recently.

Just listen to I’m All Over It – it’s a pop song that is jazz through and through. Or If I Ruled The World – a Harry Secombe song, not even jazz, but turned into thoughtful and wistful pop at its best.

Jazz lovers ought to buy it just for the brilliant opening track – Jamie Cullum playing with the Count Basie band on Just One Of Those Things. Everyone else enjoy everything else – I think this is an amazing intelligent album I will go back to many, many times.

And then, a guilty pleasure. Well into her eighth decade, Dame Shirley Bassey has produced a stunning CD. Stunning. I mean – vocally she sounds twenty years younger throughout (well, almost - there's one track where for me she slightly sounds a little older; but still not 72), and at times DSB genuinely manages to completely roll the years back to days when she was just a slip of a lass from Tiger Bay. And the songs, all new, are great! By turns gentle and reflective, and then effortlessly slipping into pure bombast – and if one or two are forgettable candy floss, even these are gloriously high-class candy-floss. Tom Baxter’s opening track is a thing of beauty; Gary Barlow’s This Time a sub-Sondheim (and that’s real praise) classic; David Arnold and Don Black’s No Good About Goodbye is the best Bond theme never used in a movie (and I had to re-listen to it straightaway – “no solace in a kiss, no comfort in a sigh, no good in goodbye” – fantastic). Richard Hawley adds a fragile After The Rain, and the Pet Shop Boys finish it off with style. And I’ve left out tunes that may be your favourite.

Goodness, Simon Mayo & Mark Kermode had David Tennant on the radio – the four hours in the car were an absolute pleasure.

Sleep Exercise

Just a little dream I had that might entertain you.

I was lolling on the floor, waiting for something to begin in my dream when (realising that I was actually asleep and this was a dream and I had nothing better to do) I decided to see if I could do press-ups in my sleep.

Oh yes.

I got to twelve (and they were quite hard going – the technique felt really tough) before actually waking myself up, laughing with the effort...

How Do You Cope?

I have been saddened to read of the suicide of Robert Enke, the German goalkeeper this week. Suffering from depression beyond his ability to deal with or share, he ended his life under a train at a spot where he often walked his dogs.

A successful footballer. Rich, married, though he had lost a young daughter some time ago, he and his wife had recently adopted a child and seemed to have so much in life. As if that mattered – which is what the reports all say.

Anyone who has suffered deep depression has been at that point of giving in. Most get past it. I’m told Suicide is the biggest killer of men under 45 in the UK. Apparently 20% of the population suffer from depression in some form, and 10% actively find themselves under its grip today.

I’ve chronicled here before how depression plays its part in my life. Reading about Enke brings tears to my eyes. I’m pretty sure most of the reports I’ve read don’t really get it; but those of us who live there do. Have I ever reached that point? Of course. So how have I coped?

You know, I often say that the point of being a Christian is not the eternal insurance policy – the going to heaven when you die. No – I mean, I believe in eternal life – but the real point is the having Jesus now. The difference knowing God makes today.

I don’t know how people who don’t have that hand holding theirs, that voice speaking softly in their ears, that smile comforting them, that light breaking through the dark, dark, darkness – I don’t know how people without all this can possible begin to cope. I couldn’t. Really, I couldn’t.

I could recall specifics. I’m not going to – perhaps apart from the blessed gift of sleep which has sometimes got me through the very, very worst hours. I will say this: “there but for the grace of God” is not a phrase I use lightly or meaninglessly. I live as best I can a life that tries to worship Jesus every day because the fruit of the acts is in the living – and when push comes to shove, at the really crucial moments, he has always been there, and somehow I have managed to see that. The seeing in the darkness, my, that's the trick.

So I write these few words as an encouragement in the light of this week’s news story to anyone reading today needing a little hope. God still loves you, even if you are feeling unloved and unlovely. I have no cure to offer – but I know that I am not alone, and that Jesus stands with me when I am lowest; so I know he is with you too. We have company – of one who understands, and loves, and listens, and stays right here.

In the midst of depression so often it's the loneliness that's the killer. But we are not alone.

Only a Vicar

So Mum has had her cancer op. Tumour removed, everything sorted, surgeon happy, Mum safely home.

As a retired nurse she is the very worst kind of patient. She gets terribly stressed before anything happens, and then doesn’t listen to a thing afterwards. Her blood pressure was high (but not as high as when she had it done at her GPs) before the op. Of course – she was so stressed, I’m surprised it was low enough for them to do anything. That stress might have heightened it before-hand and relief lowered it afterwards... perish the thought I was offering a sensible suggestion; I am only a vicar.

After the op, Mum was shivering. It’s the general anaesthetic wearing off, I said; do you feel feverish? Yes, she said. Well, there you go, I said, that’s it.
Then the sister came in. “I feel shivery,” says my Mum. “What’s wrong with me?” And she gets the same explanation. Of course, I’m only a vicar, so I couldn’t have been right, though I have had a general and know exactly what it feels like.

She had no pain killers last night. She didn’t sleep well – she had a pain. Amazing. They cut into her, and she had a pain. She accepted the pain killers this morning (“bit of overkill, all these,” she said, grimacing) and then called me at lunchtime to say she was feeling much better. Except – it turns out she had palmed some of the painkillers because she thought them a bit much, and it wasn’t till her friend Maureen told her it was the right dosage that she accepted them.

I tell you, it was like this when she had her heart op, and that time I was often alone coping with her. Nurses. The worst patients.

But she’s fine and as you can tell, very much herself – and for all that I am very grateful. Thank you Jesus; it’s been a worrying time, and I am grateful for all her little ways. Long may they continue (preferably with her in Lancashire and me in Pontypridd).

370

Remembrance Sunday again. The hardest preach of the year, and as I am feeling the pinch and not so up for the fight, I opted for a fairly straightforwards talk with remembering, freedom and the cross lifting us to something greater, interspersed with some poetry and a little 1 Corinthians (adapted).

The singing group, the Tuesday Homegroup (which the Thursday Homegroup calls "the larks", they being "the crows") had their first public outing. They were excellent. They sang before the service - and laid a marvellous bed of worship on which everything else could rest. During the service "proper" they sang Wesley's "Lead me, Lord", and were fantastic. I was so delighted.

The weather was wonderful - the opposite of last year's downpour. And the turn-out? We say we are full at 350. But our figures record twenty more than that today.

It's interesting at a time of remembering to read back in this blog. I came across this. It made me smile bleakly. Two years ago. I could have written it yesterday; though I am feeling the pinch and not so up for the fight.

The Dame & The Dog

Ain't YouTube grand?

Here's a clip of that Graham Norton show with Harry Connick, Katherine Jenkins & Rob Brydon. The whole show is there on YouTube - Harry sings in part five if you find the related clips - but at about six minutes in, Katherine duets with a little black dog via Skype. This is what we pay the licence fee for.

I've just re-watched it and re-loved it. A televisual gem.

Yes and No

Last night we had a special Diocesan Conference to discuss the future of the Archbishopric of Wales.

Still awake?

Actually, it was a good evening. People were engaged, and there was a genuine discussion, with real opinions expressed and debated. It's not the most fundamental issue facing the world-wide church today, but for us the Archbishop is an important figure, and it is right that we seek a way to ensure the post is constituted in the way that serves the church best and enables the holder of the office to live and breathe without being crushed by expectations that conflict and destroy.

For those who don't know, the Archbishopric in Wales is not currently fixed in one place. Any of the six diocesan bishops may be the Archbishop: when the post falls vacant, the remaining bishops vote amongst themselves to decide which of them should next be Archbishop.

However, with the development of Welsh society, the advent of the Welsh Assembly, and the increasing importance of the broadcast media in Welsh life, drawing the Archbishopric permanently into the Cardiff area makes more sense than ever.

Yes - we agreed with that. By a heavy majority.

But the proposal before us was to make the Archbishop the Archbishop of Llandaff, our diocesan bishop always the Archbishop, with a badly defined assistant bishop elected seperately as his assistant, potentially in conflict over major ideas of mission and pastoral care, especially as the two could overlap from one Archiepiscopate to the next.

No - we disagreed with that. By a larger majority.

Other ideas were bandied about; the assistant could be a better defined "area" bishop; the Archbishop could be a "presiding" bishop without a diocese and able to be based in Cardiff but also to travel throughout Wales more freely without being tied to Llandaff. The way the Archbishop is elected needs to be examined - also any assistant.

Bishop David, our current assistant, was delightfully humorous. It was asked what his status was in this - what would happen to him when Barry retires? He answered with delightful cheer that he didn't mind, he was pleased to be ministering today. He was asked about his experience in York, where the Archbishop has area bishops working with him. He replied: for one Archbishop, he wrote the letters, and the suffragons licked the stamps; the next was happy for the suffragons to write the letters; and for that Archbishop's successor, if the suffragons had dared to write letters, they'd have been stamped upon. This received perhaps the biggest laugh of the evening!

The opening meditation by the retired bishop of St Asaph will be my abiding memory of the evening. Speaking on 1 Thessalonians 5.24, "The one who calls you is faithful", he reminded me that this phrase is present tense. God is the one who calls us. Calling is not past tense - a moment in the past, to which I look back to receive affirmation and comfort in the ongoing work of ministry. In the context of the meeting, it was clear we were seeing that God has not called us to be his church in this land once - in the past - and now we are trying to work on, in the wrong age, in our own strength, not entirely clear how to apply something outmoded in the modern era.

No. The one who CALLS us is faithful. He still calls us. He still loves us. He still has a purpose, an ongoing calling, a calling for today to which we must listen and respond.

For me, personally, it hit a deep note.

I am tired. But he calls me. Even today. He has not finished with me. And he is faithful - so though I am tired, his calling is fresh, and his faithfulness refreshing. He did not call me to this work in the past and leave me to it; he calls me each and every day. Today too.

The one who calls us: how wonderful. There is no "no" here, only a glorious and eternal "yes".

More Harry

...Oh yes. This week's Graham Norton Show, available on the iPlayer for seven days for UK viewers is a must for Harry fans. He chats with Graham alongside Welsh duo Katherine Jenkins & Rob Brydon (not that they are a duo, but they are Welsh and there is two of them). Harry is obviously taken with KJ and bemused by RB; well, maybe it's a Welsh thing...

It's quite fun - the competition of who sang at the most famous birthday party (Sinatra, Streisand, er...Brydon) is very amusing; as was the throwaway revelation that Ioan Gruffudd has a Welsh Bar in his garage in LA where he invites friends around to watch the rugby, with KJ singing the anthem - for real.

Oh yes, it's very Welsh, invite a few friends around for the rugby, and get a major singing star to sing the anthem. Actually, in the village that is South Wales, it is very believable behaviour!

And though I thought the "dogs singing opera" extract was going to be dull, the "live" via skype duet of Katherine Jenkins and a Westie from Canada on O Mio Babino Caro was pure genius.

PLUS - Harry sings All The Way from the new CD at the end, and is excellent.

Tower

This week I have been blessed by two friends who have been a tower of strength to me. You know who you are. In the midst of all that life is, you are a gift from God, and I am grateful beyond words.

Your Songs

So here's the thing: last week Michael Buble released a new CD; now Harry Connick Jr has a new collection of songs out.

As a singer of these songs, I have to say that I am thrilled to be living in an age when there are men of this quality releasing albums of this quality and having them hit the pop charts.

Harry's CD is quite different to MB's, as you'd expect. The production sound is more jazz, less pop, and the voice is - well, it's a matter of taste. If I'm honest, I do think that CDs get Buble at his best. Harry is a "live" act, and on record he can be an acquired taste. It's the flaws that make him perfect, as opposed to MB, where it's the perfection that makes him so good!

The songs are a mixed bag on "Your Songs", a concept album from an idea by "legendary" Sony record producer Clive Davies. All the songs are chosen by Davies and arranged by HCJ, all are well known, with some being obvious standards Harry might sing, whilst others are pop songs from the 60s and 70s (so far so similar to Buble) but perhaps Harry's more obviosuly jazz styling does not take so simply to these tunes. I am hoping that on some, repeated listening will bring increased pleasure; an album can grow on you. I think that there are others that I will learn to skip.

The songs that Harry ought to excel at - he really does. All the Way, The Way You Look Tonight, Who Can I Turn To, Some Enchanted Evening, Smile - and then a couple of surprises in a beautiful And I Love Her and on the version I have (an American import - thanks Chris!) Killing Me Softly. The band is good, and the arrangements have a lot of Harry's astringent wit to them. If I have a couple of questions over those arrangements (and to question Harry on music is like questioning Jesus, so I feel like I'm taking my soul into my hands here) I sometimes want to shoot the violins; they noodle away pointlessly when just the rhythm section would be a cleaner backing. And why (WHY???) do so many of these arrangements end in awkward rits? If a drummer is playing to a click track (rather too obviously) when he slows down he has to do it well; this is done too often and not well enough. Songs can end in other ways than by slowing the tempo, and I am amazed that this trick is employed so often - it makes me feel a song hasn't ended so much as just run out.

However.

Then you get the Marsalis brothers playing beautifully restrained solos (don't play jazz! just play the tune! shouts Sony producer Clive Davies from his throne in the back office) and some mature music making of the first order, and Harry singing as Harry sings on some wonderful songs. Not enough Harry piano playing (alomost none, actually - clearly that would have been too jazzy) but here's the other thing -

Clive Davies won't be on the tour.

Harry is always better on tour. He produces slightly tame CDs and then gets his audience into the tour and introduces them to jazz- quite difficult jazz - and re-imagines the songs on the CD as he would really have liked to record them. This CD is good. Occasionally very good. Always listenable. I can't wait to hear it done AMAZINGLY - which will be when I hear it "live".

Chiari Petition

A member of our church is soon to have neurosurgery to help with a Chiari Malformation from which he suffers. You may at this point be wondering what this is - and that's a reasonable question. Chiari Malformations (CMs) are structural defects in the cerebellum, the part of the brain that controls balance. And so the surgery will be serious, and we are praying for him, and look forwards to his treatment and recovery.

But he has asked that I sign a petition that asks the government to make information about the condition more readily available. The NHS websites contain little information about the condition, and sufferers not only have to face the illness but also the problems of communicating what it entails to families, friends - and of course employers, and that is once they have had the medical profession spot their symptoms and diagnose them accurately. It is not especially rare, but it does seem to lack focus, and the petition is asking that the oversight on the NHS websites is put right in order to help sufferers. I have gladly signed the online petition at the Prime Minister's Office. Here is the link - you fill the form in, then they send an email which you click onto and your name appears at the bottom of the petition.

If we can do some good for people who need help, we should. I encourage you to take two minutes now and make a difference.

When things go Right

Last Saturday my fridge started to make a terrible noise. Normally, for it to go wrong my Mum is somewhere around, but on this occasion it did it all by itself. Everytime the engine kicked in, it fair roared.

On Tuesday I got around to ringing up the warranty people.

It took two minutes for them to arrange to come out and repair it - on Thursday. Which I thought pretty good. Often they tell you it will be a week on Wednesday. Two days seemed fine to me. The fridge was working - just at rock concert volume. They said I would be contacted early on Thursday and given a two-hour slot during which the repair man would call - again, excellent; how often have we all had to wait in all day for these people?

On Wednesday they sent me a text reminder. On Thursday at 7.55am I got another text - the chap would come between 1pm and 3pm. He actually arrived at 12.50pm, which was again excellent - right at the start of the window. He rang me just before arriving to check I was there. He took one look at the fridge, asked where the noise came from, told me he knew exactly what the problem was, checked he had the part on his van and fixed it. He had left my house by 12.55pm.

And the fridge works perfectly.

When things go right (after they've gone wrong) there is something inside you that goes - THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD ALWAYS BE! How easy was that! No problems, no awkwardness, no hanging on the end of a phone having to press "4" then "7" then "1" then being cut off and having to do it all again... No waiting and waiting, and then being told that there was nothing wrong, or that it was my fault, or that he'd have to come back in a fortnight as the part needed to be ordered from Siberia.

It was just perfect.

Thank you Indesit.

News of PodCaths Spreads

Today I received an email from Bible Study Magazine, a magazine in the US that encourages people to engage in Bible Reading, telling me that they are running a short news item about PodCaths, our St Catherine's Podcast, in their next issue. Here's what they wrote:

Hi, my name is Adam Navarrete from Bible Study Magazine, a bi-monthly publication based in Bellingham, WA, U.S.A, that has regular circulation of nearly, 15,000.

In our forthcoming November/December 2009 issue, which will have an expanded audience of nearly 65,000 readers, we have in place a story on St. Catherine’s “PodCaths” for our In the News section.

The headline reads, “Podcast Bible Study Fields Questions from around the Globe,” with the following story:

At St. Catherine’s in Pontypridd (north of Cardiff, Wales), people from as far as Orlando, Florida are participating in biblical discussions by listening to an audio podcast and submitting questions via email. Anglican vicar Marcus Green leads Bible reading and informal, unscripted discussions that are often filled with laughter. The podcasts, or “PodCaths,” as the group refers to them, are available on the church web site under News at St-Caths.org.

Well - I have to say that I had a good look at the magazine's website & really enjoyed some of the articles, and though I don't know the people involved, and I do appreciate that in part a news story is an outreach to see if you can find new readers - from what I have read, if I found this magazine in a bookshop I would buy it. Anything that encourages good engagement with the Scriptures and gives good tools for people to help along the way has my vote.

It's good to find friends who share the journey, isn't it?

About Jazz, About Jesus, About Ten Minutes

I spent a great evening yesterday at Rugby School (it's a bit of a modern institution... you'll remember I went to the quincentenerary of my own school earlier in the year; these guys have half a century to go yet before reaching that milestone!) preaching in chapel at the invitation of the chaplain, Richard Horner. The music was provided by the school's jazz orchestra, and Richard had googled "jazz vicar" in order to find an appropriate preacher for the occasion... alas, all he could find was me!

It was, for me, a real privilege. I came to faith at school aged 12 or 13, and part of that journey was our equivalent of the kind of event I spoke at last night. I remember the headmaster speaking once, and the chaplain on a different occasion, saying things that hit my heart and opened me up to God. My prayer as I went to Rugby yesterday was that there might even be one person in that building for whom one thing I said might have the same effect. I will never know; but they will, and that is enough.

The band was excellent - and clearly the whole school enjoyed the final song (Shine Jesus Shine) in particular. Props to the lad who filled in on drums right at the last minute, even if he had to play with a stick & a recorder cos that was all he could find! I find it so encouraging to see this kind of music being enthused about in school; I had to run my own jazz band at my school! I must add that the choir was also lovely, and their arrangement of "The Day Thou Gavest" was the kind of beautiful thing that probably gets taken for granted there - and anywhere else would be rightly regarded as stunning.

Given that I was asked to speak for a short period of time, I actually did that very unusual thing of having a full text. If you are interested - Here it is:

About Jazz, About Jesus, About Ten Minutes

I’ve been asked to speak today about jazz, about Jesus & about ten minutes. Let’s see if I make all three.

I don’t know what your attitude is to making mistakes? Joe Venuti, a jazz violinist of the first half of the 20th century said: “If you’re going to make a mistake, make it loud so everyone else sounds wrong.” Does that work for you?

Miles Davies, on the other hand, the great jazz trumpeter of the generation later than Venuti, had a slightly different take. How about this: he said “Do not fear mistakes. There are none.” Or, again, more simply & perhaps more bravely for a musician, he added, “there are no wrong notes.”

I guess you can imagine what he means. In the flow of jazz, the note following note, the freefall of creativity where a musician just plays and plays… and plays… (incidentally – do you know the difference between a bottomless pit and a long jazz solo? Even a bottomless pit eventually comes to an end…) you can imagine in the flow of jazz he means that you can play anything. There are no wrong notes.

But there’s a problem with that.

The problem is there are wrong notes.

I’ve heard enough bad jazz to have heard too many bad notes, and some of them played very loud, and all that did was make everything sound wrong. There were mistakes. There are mistakes. In jazz, in music generally, in life, of course.

Bill Evans, pianist, who died in 1980, actually not long after I was first getting into jazz, not that my getting into jazz and his death were connected you understand, put a slightly different spin on things. He said:
“There are no wrong notes – only wrong resolutions.”

George Gershwin, the great American composer, pointed out that “Life is a lot like jazz – it’s best when you improvise”, but the problem with improvising is that we do sometimes mess up. We hit a wall. We make mistakes. We get to places we’d rather we hadn’t got, and we get to places we are thrilled to have reached but now we are here we have no idea what to do next. Bill Evans’ point is – it’s the resolution that matters at these points. Not the mistakes, not the wrong notes, not the problems. Everyone has the problems. Mistakes are a reality of life – if you don’t make them you aren’t making music. You aren’t living.

The question is – how do you resolve them? What note will you play next? “There are no wrong notes – only wrong resolutions.”

The Bible is full of occasions where Jesus meets people in precisely this situation. A woman who has had 5 husbands and the bloke she’s with now she’s not married to and the community has spurned her; a man who’s supposed to be a priest but has either been thrown out or who has walked away (we don’t know) but who is now reduced to taking tax money for the occupying forces from his own kin; a woman caught in adultery with a crowd around her ready to stone her to death; a thief on a cross, dying. People in the midst of the wrong note.

But life is not about the wrong note – there are no wrong notes, only wrong resolutions – and Jesus offers them a next note, shows them how the song might carry on, how the melody can play on and become something beautiful if they’ll listen to him and trust him. They have a choice; and so do we.

Some of you have made mistakes today. Some of you yesterday, some will do it tomorrow. But bad notes are not what life is about. Jesus offers songs of life that are more than one bad note – and his resolutions can become something wonderful, if we will trust him.

Of course, it’s easy in the Bible – there he is, standing before you. Speaking. Showing you what to do.

D’you know, Jesus promises to be with us always? And if one person can be trusted to keep a promise it’s Jesus? There are times we simply have to realise it’s time to ask for help? I guess you might call it prayer – though religious words (prayer) can make him seem far away. He’s not far away.

So here’s another jazz principal that should help.

Charlie Parker, a truly influential saxophonist who died very young in the mid 1950s, is reputed to have said: “know the changes, forget the changes.”

In jazz, the “changes” aren’t when things are suddenly different – like, how many bishops does it take to change a light bulb? – “Change???”
The changes are the bedrock of all music – the harmonic pattern, the chord structure, the base on which the melody and the rhythm and the improvisation that jazz is seemingly all about are anchored and from which all these things grow and live.

If you want to be a jazz player, you have to know the changes. Cos you’ll roll into a bar one day with your sax under your arm ready to play, and the pianist will look at you and say, “Do you know ‘I only have eyes for you’?”, and in the jazz world normally that’s not a terrible chat up line, it’s an enquiry as to whether you can play a particular song. Normally.

And if you don’t know the changes, you ain’t got the gig.

Now there are thousands of songs – and you have to learn them all. You have to - if you’re serious. It takes an awful lot of practice to make it up as you go along. But there’s an extra level. Cos there’s no pleasure in dancing with someone who never looks at you or listens to you cos they’re always looking at their own feet, and there’s no point in listening to someone who’s always thinking, “Eb – Cm – Fm7 – Bb7(b9)”. You have to learn these things so well they become instinctive. Know the changes – forget the changes.

It’s all very well for me to say, there are no wrong notes, only wrong resolutions, trust Jesus to help you play the right next note in life when today you’ve made a mistake. But what IS the next note? What do you do when you’ve made a mistake? Where do you go? What are the changes? What are the parameters that will get you through and make music out of the mess?

Jesus was asked, during the last week of his life, what is the greatest commandment? The Jews had 613 commandments in the Old Testament, and their scribes and rabbis added a ton on top of that. He was being asked this question. What are the changes of life, the structure, on what are we supposed to base everything else? He replied:

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and all your strength; and love your neighbour as yourself.

God loves you more than you can ever know. Trust him. Believe him. Receive him. And love back as you are loved. When things go wrong – whether it’s your fault or done to you – don’t get defensive, don’t fight back, remember that you are loved and carry on loving. The person in front of you is a person too.

Love God, love people. Know this so well you can forget it. Not because you no longer know it or care, but because it becomes instinctive. A part of you. Know the changes, forget the changes.

You see, it’s not the wrong notes – it’s what you do with them. And if you have this as the changes, the structure, the harmonic pattern of life – Love God, love people – you will make mistakes, play wrong notes, you too are human, but you will go on to resolve those bad notes into some kind of wonderful music and to improvise a life that people around you near and far will love to see and hear.

About jazz. Tick. About Jesus. Tick. About ten minutes. (Look at watch) Not bad. May we pray?

Crazy Love

This morning I bought the latest CD by Michael Buble. You can click here to have a listen to it. There's a lot less big band than on previous recordings - though the vocal version of Basie's All of Me is well done - and the opening Cry Me a River is the definition of "overdone"... I began to wonder if Mr B was auditioning to make a Bond movie title track.

But I will forgive a lot of things for this: the man can sing. He has a simply great voice that effortlessly encompasses emotions and notes and words, and does what a singer should do. I will never forget the concert in Cardiff a few years back where I heard him give the greatest singing performance I think I will ever hear from this kind of artist (though sadly neither will I forget other times when he has been decidedly average). This recording put mne in mind of that great evening: Buble is some kind of singer, even if his material is distinctly variable.

There's a lot of sixties and seventies influenced motown stuff here, and it's not bad; his pop side gets a decent outing, and I'm warming to it. It's a very middle of the road CD... BUT he can sing!

(Though listen carefully - apparently the word "that" has two syllables; almost invariably he sings "a-that"!)

£9.85 well spent. I will keep listening. And enjoying.

Ooh Aah

I have just watched Looking for Eric, a warm and engaging film about a postman with problems and a hero-complex about Eric Cantona.

Right at the end it includes the above clip, after referring to it early in the film ("I'm still trying to get over the seagulls") and there were several times I laughed out loud: Cantona picking up a trumpet and fluffing his way through the Marseillaise, which to all United fans is simply the Cantona chant, was a wonderfully funny moment.

It also deals with the problems of mental illness, and after hearing an interview with cricketer Marcus Trescothick on the radio at lunchtime I was again struck by the silent ordinariness of such problems. The unspeakable burden and the crippling weight they place on average human beings, who bravely live on anyway.

Life is not about the disorders that afflict us; we cannot help the hand we are dealt. We can choose how we play that hand - and a little humour and a determination to live on as best as we can, sometimes feeling like we are pretending to be human, but always living on - these are good choices. I am inspired and encouraged in my walk by tales like these.

And by heroes who speak such twaddle as Cantona's seagulls and bring such joy by so doing.

New PodCaths!

We have some new PodCaths episodes now available online at the St Catherine's website, and at iTunes (where you should search for "Podcaths Marcus Green")! They were recorded at the end of September and beginning of October, and feature the regular bunch working their way through readings from St Mark's Gospel. If you use the St Catherine's link, do give QuickTime chance to download - it may take a minute or so - and if you use iTunes, why not subscibe? Hopefully there will be more in November!

Impressed?

I'm never sure whether to be impressed or saddened when I come across perfect people.

I mean, fancy not needing Jesus. It must be very lonely. Not being loved. It's all very well being able to look St Paul in the eye and saying, "Rip out Romans 2.1 from the Bible, it doesn't apply to me, boyo," but the follow on is that you lose Romans 5.8 too.

I'm afraid that I am totally fed up of the utter twaddle that is being spouted about MPs expenses AGAIN. Amazingly, everyone and his wife AGAIN are perfect. They have never fiddled the tax man, claimed something that wasn't theirs, taken more change from Tesco than they should have. (Well, it's not the same, is it?) These lousy MPs should just pay for everything from their wages.

And when they bring investors from abroad to their homes, to entertain them so that they will bring in hundreds of thousands of pounds' worth of investment into their constituencies - NO! NO expenses. The home is not the job.

Twaddle. Bunkum. Self-righteous hypocrisy.

I posted a comment on someone's facebook (you'd think I'd learn) with an apology. I said:

I know it's not a popular opinion, but clergy realise that the home is needed as a part of the job. Seems to me that if an MP is entertaining people in the constituency in order to bring in jobs and investment, as I hope mine does, then some upkeep on his house and entertainment costs are entirely appropriate from the public purse. Sorry.

I'll give you one guess how many agreed with me. Two irate females spouted nonsense against me - quoting moats and porn movies.

That's right - all MPS spent a fortune on moats and porn. If it were true, I think I might be tempted to change careers.

Goodness me. I do not for a moment think all MPs got everything right, but nor do I think that the mistakes of the few give the mob a right to the kind of sanctimonious witchunt of the public spirited that we have seen over the past months. It is sickening. As Christians, we should stand up for those who serve us in Parliament, especially those who have sinned badly, and not lounge around pointing fingers and bad-mouthing men and women who need support not brick-bats.

Or is this the new evangelicalism? Love your neighbour - unless he's gay or an MP? God preserve us from ourselves and grant us more of Jesus than a heart like that.

Oh - the rose at the top? Something beautiful on a day when people are being ugly. The last rose of October in my garden. Red and lovely and rather wonderful, isn't it?

QI Fact of the Day

(The following - including the St Augustine quotation - is on the BBC Website homepage today... I found it interesting, and thought you might too.)

The Christian congregation in Africa has grown by more than 4,300% since 1900 - a rate of expansion unknown since the earliest years of the Church. There are about 390 million practising Christians in Africa today, more than three times as many as in 1970. Over the next 20 years, this figure is expected to grow by a further 200 million.

The good Christian should beware the mathematician and all those who make empty prophecies. The danger already exists that the mathematicians have made a covenant with the devil to darken the spirit and to confine man in the bonds of hell. ST AUGUSTINE (354-430)

Grrrrr...

So after a long day (four services) - a long but really fun day, with loads of people around and a real sense of God blessing people - I decided to catch up onsome unnecessary stuff. I clicked onto Facebook.

The line at the top of my homepage read "72 new posts". It's been a day or two.

And being in a brainless mood, I read through them. This status update, from Rachel, a good friend from Oxford days, caught my eye:

Sermon, sermon, sermon... concentrate, concentrate, concentrate...

It amused me. We've all felt like that! It was followed by a great comment from someone I don't know called Mark:

Sermon ... MERLIN .... Sermon .... STRICTLY COME DANCING .... Sermon .... CASUALY ..... Sermon ..... the BBC are deliberately making it hard for us. And of couse Satrurday is the only evening available for sermon prep!! I've tried concentrating, studying and even using the force...but on the upside, there's still 12 hours before we have to actually preach.

I was so amused, I posted a reply:

I'm impressed by Mark. My version: 6.30pm: Oh God I have a sermon to think about... MERLIN... was there something I should be doing? STRICTLY... Feeling guilty... XFACTOR (on Sky+)... bed.
6.30am: Oh God - I have a sermon to think about...

Now. This was OBVIOUSLY a humorous comment. I mean, it didn't have a little drum kit cymbal sound effect going with it or a clown logo, but I would have thought that you'd have to be pretty brain dead not to get that there was a typical Facebook lightness of touch going on here.

And if you didn't know, you might grant a person you didn't know the benefit of the doubt given the medium of the message. You'd think.

So, for the benefit of Dan C, another person I don't know, who then wrote:

Well concentrate then and stop looking at Facebook. Just remner how much they pay you, that'll help

I'll add 2 things.

First - I preached four times today, two different sermons, with countless hours preparation going into them. A bit of self-deprecation goes a long way, and is enjoyed by very many people, but hard work doesn't enjoy being belittled by ignorance.

Second - Father moaned over lunch that the sermon was too long. Mother nodded, and wished that Sunday School seemed a bit more - well - prepared. James (13) added that the guitarist was out of tune. All morning. Helen (6 and a half) said she didn't think it was at all bad for 50p.

And I think Guinevere is too good for that wimpy Arthur, Ricky Whittle was seriously undermarked, and the twins ARE annoying but not as bad as everyone says; Danni Minogue on the other hand...

3.0

The St Catherine's Website has just hit its third incarnation. Go to www.st-caths.org to see what's new - absolutely everything!

Thanks to Geraint & TL for all their work alongside me on this, they have been fantastic - TL on designing the thing, and Geraint on making it happen. There are some really great features - and lots more to come on pages that as yet are just gateways to all the features that will appear over the months ahead.

But st-caths.org 3.0 is alive and well! Have a look and tell me what you think of the new look!

Give Thanks

Harvest weekend at St Catherine's. Always time to stop and work out what there is to give thanks for - and there's always lots.

Personally, I took a couple of days away last week as my Dad had an op on his shoulder following a fall he had last December. He'll be fine now, though the recuperation will take a while. Technically he's not supposed to drive again till Christmas Eve... can't see that happening... But I am grateful he's had the op, and grateful for seeing him.

My mum had news last week that she has a small tumor in her bladder, but strangely this too is something to be grateful for. It could have been so much worse. This is an easily operated on form of cancer, and caught early (as it seems to have been) really straightforward. Of course it's a worry, but there's so much to be thankful for, and we pray on and wait to see what happens.

We had a lovely family gathering for Harvest, a super meal, with loads of people and great food, and again MGQ providing the music. Chris, Dan, George & Evan joined me this week - Tom was moonlighting in another band, and this was the first time Evan has played with MGQ, though of course he's been with the big band before. It was great fun. So good to enjoy the music as we brought the family of the church together.

And on Sunday, we brought our harvest offerings for Support for Romania, as they prepare to go to help orphanages, hospitals, doctors, prisons and schools next month. In the midst of all our stuff, it's good to give thanks and just to give. To give to those who need. To share. Freely we have received, freely we give.

We had a lovely family in for a blessing of their baby in the service, and again, it's a joy to share with such a family the love of Jesus and to tell them of his great love for them. No-one came up afterwards and told me they'd come to faith. But who knows what God is doing? Maybe I'll hear next week. Lord, grow the church and bless your people. And thank you for another harvest here - for seed sown and lives of righteousness being raised and reaped.