Party Time in Maryland

It's simply wonderful to be here with Karen, Jerry, Stephen, Paul and Harry Welbourn. Plus - lots of other family members too! These guys were like one big extended family to me 18 years ago, when I stayed here for six months, and this has been a fun evening catching up.

Good food, good music, good company. K&J's elder two, Stephen and Paul had music performance tests today and both scored really highly - as well they should. Stephen played his Mendelssohn violin concerto segment and Paul his Debussy flute piece for us. Fantastic.

Then Lori and Karen and Megan and the rest of us sang hymns and show tunes. With equal reverence.

It quite took me back! When Karen was at Merton, evenings would often revolve around her at the piano and gatherings of friends singing. And now, much older and a little wiser, here were with some things not much different.

Friendship is a great gift. For which, many thanks.

And we're done. Sort of.

So we're done. Sort of. 124,137 words. 503 pages. A first version of the first draft. Glory!

There is an awful lot more work to be done, and I may even do some this next week. But my aim was to finish by tonight. Why? Because this has been wonderful, I have loved every creative minute of it - but it has also been solid work, and before I leave this country in 10 days time I would like a holiday!

Oh yes. So please note my wonderful praying people of St Catherine's, I would like some different prayers now please. Rest! Relaxation! A quiet mind and a still spirit!

I am so thrilled to have finished this draft of this book. Every target bar one has been hit. The one I missed? 120,000 words. But given I'm 4,000 over, I think that's OK. Give a guy a break!

Forgive me, OK!

The photo is of the current front page. It is headed, "The Forgiving", and carries two quotations.

One is from Isaiah 46.3-4.

"Listen to me...

You whom I have upheld since you were conceived, and have carried since your birth. Even to your old age and grey hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you."

The second quotation is from George Herbert:

"Forgiveness is the most necessary and proper work of every man; for though, when I do not a just thing, or a charitable, or a wise, another man may do it for me, yet no man can forgive my enemy but myself."

This weekend I'm off to visit Karen Welbourn, who was at Merton with me a million years ago, and her husband Jerry and the kids, and we will probably go to church at the Falls Church just south of Washington DC. I am really looking forwards to this trip. K&J hosted me for much of my six months stay back in 1990 when I lived over here, and their families were so wonderful it will be fantastic to see everyone. The last time I saw them was in 1995 - so I guess we will all have changed!

Many many blessings.

My heart is filled with joy, thanksgiving and praise.

Thank you Jesus: thank you Lord for this project, for this time, for these words. For all that is still to come. For this unbelievable opportunity. For creativity and discipline! For the beauty and power of the word and the imagination.

Glory.

Thank you. Amen.

100K

I guess there are milestones. One hundred thousand words feels like one. Though it's not a significant moment in the book - it is a significant moment in the writing. And if you look carefully you get to see my current working title and title page, with a quote from Isaiah on it.

Now, lunch.

Sunday at Heartland

The first thing I have to say is that the building may be unprepossessing, but these are wonderful people. I was welcomed everywhere, greeted, spoken to, made to feel at home. This is a church that knows how to treat guests. I was impressed.

I had super time with Andy and Trisha, whom you can see here with their boys Jake and Eli. Andy led worship in the main morning service with his excellent band. Good to see Zach, who played drums at Furnace last summer as well – this is his home church too. The music was lovely, and we used some songs I knew well and some that were new to me but all were good for worship.

Preaching at the main service, and joining us for lunch was Ron Allen, pictured here with his wife Carolyn and I, after the service at Andy and Trisha’s for lunch. Ron has pastored this church for ages, though he is handing over leadership to Andy. Both his sermon and John Youse’s at the early service were great, though it was their hearts rather than their words that stick with me. I loved what I saw – big generous hearts winning people for Jesus.

At the early service John spoke on the question of what revelation is, and as he was doing so, I felt the Lord help me with something. I have been slightly struggling with exactly how I progress the story of my book. The next bit has been just escaping me. And now I am clear. John reminded us to simply ask for revelation – to be shown what we needed to see: thank you Jesus!

Oh, I promised yesterday to record a couple of things form Saturday night’s sermon. Here you go: "Resentment is deadly, and the first relationship it kills is the one with yourself". Or try this: “We’re often asked, ‘Can Christians dance?’ We’ve always felt the answer is, some can and some can’t.” I think that second one works on so many levels it is an absolute masterpiece.

At 6pm, there is now a ‘liturgical’ service run by Ben Sternke at Heartland – or at least, it is run actually off site. (It's called "Christ Community" and you can read more about it on Ben's blog - click here and scroll down till you find it!) Ben is running it for people who might not want exactly what the morning service offers, who need a way in from liturgical churches, who have life experiences that mean something more formal but still Spirit led is good, who can hold on to the structure and find God in the organised side of church – a sort of thirty-something post modern take on a Eucharist. Not that it is simply aiming at that demographic. And not that you have to have a beard if you are a man (I was so grateful when eventually someone else without one came in)... It was quiet, thoughtful, beautiful, and Ben’s preaching was my favourite of the weekend (which means it was most like my own). Good narrative theology. Giving people The Story by telling people the story. An excellent preach on John 9. And again, warm, friendly people making me feel at home. Quite lovely.

Thank you Lord for the privilege of being here. What an amazing joy to meet these folk. What a thrill to worship amongst them. Thank you. I tell you, these trips to worship with God's people in different places are eye opening and heart warming and spirit refreshing and totally wonderful. It will be years before I get to do this again. And I am loving every moment.

Happy St David's Day

Happy St David's Day!

I have now flown into Fort Wayne, Indiana, which is really in the middle of nowhere, to stay with Andy Booth. Fort Wayne gives the impression of being very rural, though the city at 300,000 people isn't far short of the size of Cardiff.

Andy, whom I know from the Flames of Fire/New Wine Cymru conference as a worship leader, is one of the pastors of a great church here, Heartland, and he is hosting me here for the weekend - he and a couple of his friends, Tom and Karen Maxwell, at whose lovely house I am staying.

It is cold and snowy! We're not in Tampa anymore!

Tonight I have been to another church in town, "The Chapel", where the pastor is called Rick Hawks, and he preached on the Prodigal Son. The church was interesting (with a band of 13 or 14, and a dozen singers who came in formation with hand-held mikes from the congregation at the start of the service looking like the old Coke adverts teaching the world to sing) and the sermon good; when I can find my notes I'll edit this and put a couple of comments in. I thought it was all stunningly professional. And I really enjoyed it, though in all honesty, I think a visit is all I could do; it wasn't a church I could live with. I get to see Andy's much more informal church in the morning. Andy took me along as he wanted to hear the preacher who is a friend of his and he had never been to the church before.

I did however take photos of Andy's worship space and of The Chapel before the service started. I'll try and upload the pictures later so you can work out which is which (there's a big clue in one picture!!!)

Fifth Saturday in Sabbatical

So the weather is sunny. It was a little cool in the middle of the week, briefly, (as you can see, my Uncle Michael & Gill felt the need for jackets, but actually the morning sun already had reached the high 60s by this time!) and now has warmed up again. Which is a shame. Because tomorrow I fly to Fort Wayne Indiana, where right now it is snowing!

This week always looked like it might be hard to fit much writing in. Firts there was flying back from DC on Monday (and that's the next picture - straight down the centre of Washington out of the plane window), then it was Gill (my sister)’s birthday on Wednesday, and my uncle Michael and his wife Margaret flew in on Wednesday evening as well for a few days. Then today I am meeting up with my good friend Chris Berryman who lives down the road in Orlando.

So given I am aiming at 20,000 words a week, somehow I have managed almost 18,000, and am now at a total of just over 95,000. Which is not quite the 100,000 that was my target for today at the beginning of all this, but close enough to say I’m still very much on track.

But are these words any good? What’s the point of just churning out words? Well, that’s the question. I guess in part I just have to get to the end of this and then bravely let one or two others have a look and see. I find that everything I have hoped for, all my organising and working out, the basic plotting of the whole thing if you will, is working perfectly. I am hitting all my targets. Getting to where I want to get when I want to get there. Saying what I want to say and occasionally finding myself laughing and crying along the way.

So I am enjoying the process of writing still, very much. And at almost 80% through now, at least I can say that I will most likely finish the first draft on time! Thank you for your prayers. This is being an amazing experience. Please pray on.

Family time this week has been great. To be here for Gill’s birthday was lovely. I took her out for lunch as she had the day off work. Ben, my nephew, had not bought her a card or gift I discovered the night before. So I took him out and we put that right with a bunch of flowers. I guess as it has always just been the two of them, there has never been anyone to tell him that he should buy his Mum a birthday gift: she is the one who buys everything for him. And when he went into her room in the morning and gave her the things, she was really amazed and touched.

Also, although you are getting ready for Mothers Day in the UK, it doesn’t happen here in the States until May. So Gill never gets a card to my Mum on time, and Mum always resigns herself to pulling out last year’s card. This year, she was feeling miserable because she felt that she would have to do it with my card as well. Ah, but I’d thought ahead and taken cards for all of us to sign over here, which I posted at the beginning of this week. Mum called yesterday, thrilled.

And an Aunty of mine, Joyce (see picture - at cousin Howard's wedding last October), is very ill in hospital in Manchester. Probably the closest member of the family outside the immediate parents/sister/nephew circle. Please pray for her; I hope to see her when I get home. She may not be there.

As will not Cleo, a member of St Catherine’s, who died this week. A wonderful lady of strength and courage, whose ever present smile hid constant pain, and who will be sorely missed by her very many friends. Rest in peace and rise in glory.

Oh, that concert

The first time I saw Michael Buble he wasn't very good. Though the encore was terrific.

The second time I saw him was the most phenomenal singing I have ever seen in my life.

This was somewhere in between. He has a great voice, an awkward stage manner that varies between a walk so strange it comes from the John Cleese school (though I think he thinks it's cool) and a presence that is genuinely quite magnetic, and an ability to project the inner meaning of a song in a way that is totally compelling - if he can be bothered.

The second half was better than the first, but at times it felt mechanical, and having seen him be so unbelievably brilliant I was knocked off my feet, watching him simply be great was OK but no more. I should be so talented.

The band was the best I've seen them. The staging fantastic. A US audience rather more vocal than its Cardiff counterpart!

And I did enjoy it. Just, well, you know. I wanted one the best concert experiences of my life, and instead I got a merely excellent one. How hard to please am I???

Truro

It is always a total joy to spend time with Tory and Elizabeth Baucum.

I am here in Fairfax, Virginia, in their new home for the first time since they moved last summer. Tory is now rector of Truro Church, a large Anglican church just outside Washington DC. The Episcopal Church in the States is a political minefield, and Truro Church is struggling with this, but Tory is a man of peace, a bridge-builder.

Listening to his story of faith and integrity, and worshipping with his Saturday evening congregation, I am filled with a sense of gratitude that I have been granted such a friend as this. We met quite by chance eighteen years ago in Little Rock Arkansas, and of such small coincidences is grace built.

Tory's sermon tonight, from Philippians 2.12-18 was a reminder of how we as the Redeemed become the Redeeming in the world, how we are to take on the responsibility for being the body of the Christ who dies to save, and how we are to cherish and value this awesome responsibility. We share in the task he gives us. It is a wonderful thing - though he has done it all, yet he gives us a share in it.

And before church, Elizabeth and I spent time talking about the value of writing, the creativity and imagination of it, the way in which the Creator God asks us to revel in being made in his image by displaying that image in the acts of our lives - the creations of our own imaginations.

Again, I am thankful for the gift of friends such as these.


(Sunday)

So by the end of the morning, I had listened to Tory preach the same sermon four times. I think numbers 1,2,3 & 4 were the ones that had the most impact on me.

Here are some thoughts from that sermon, which was all about working out our faith.


1. Tory said, you thought that when you signed up to church you signed up to stability; but actually you signed up to a journey, to dis-equilibrium and change and transformation. When you don't like the journey, the company, the venue or the menu, don't get so caught up in the problems that you lose sight of the goal - where you are going - or of the one who is leading you home.

2. Here are 5 "How to" books: How to win friends and influence your neighbours; How to Crochet; How to not look older; How to succeed in business; How to play jazz. The last is the only Christian one, because in jazz, the musician is as much played upon as playing, allowing the music to influence the person, remembering that there are no bad notes, only bad resolutions. So too in our faith: it is a co-operation with the Holy Spirit working in us, not just what we do, and though this moment may have been what seems to be a mistake, how we let God take us on from here is the real test.

3. Remember who you are and you'll know what to do. How are we to live out our faith at this post code? (My job is to worship God, his job is to grow the church, anyone?)

4. You who are redeemed are now the redeeming. You are the unblemished, the sacrifice, the means by which God brings his love to the world. The first sentence of this point was something I said to Tory over a sandwich yesterday afternoon as we talked about the passage he was preaching on; he then made it a key point in his sermon. After I had heard it the fourth time, I felt the Lord say to me really clearly -
"You said it to him; now I have said it to you FOUR times; have you heard it yet? Am I getting through?"

Also at the service was George Kovoor, principal of Trinity College Bristol, and we had lunch together afterwards. He is a remarkable man, and it was good to spend time with him. I liked him enormously. I hope to get in touch with him when I get home. He may yet be able to help us at St Catherine's with my ongoing quest for a form of evangelism that matches outreach with worship. We shall see.

A great day.

P.S. As you can see from the photo, the forecast deep snow for the weekend did not happen: thanks for the prayers re the weather!

Coming Out To Play

The Sun has got his hat on
Hip hip hip hooray
The sun has got his hat on and is coming out to play.

Given what my completely unreasonable target was for this weekend - 80,000 words - I’m just over 3,000 shy of that total. If I get anything done at all on my Washington trip, I’ll make it. I’m not sure if that will happen. The next section is really important, and I think I want to be able to focus completely on it, rather than do it in bits and pieces.

I am so looking forwards to the next couple of days. Tonight I go to see Michael Buble in concert in Tampa. And in the morning it’s back to the airport for the next flight, and then off to see Tory and his family at Truro Church. Wonderful. I think that it will be a very inspiring weekend - everything Tory says about the church sounds great, and it is so good to hear him so enthused about his church.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Though pray for the travelling - the weather is rough on the Eastern seaboard, and I may get stuck...

Florida!

So here I am, safely arrived at Gill's house in Florida.

You'll have to wait for photos of Gill and Ben - Gill's at work and Ben's at school. So for now that's just me and Lucy the dog. More family shots will come!

The routine is working well. I get up ridiculously early, 11am UK time (ah, but do the time zone thing and you'll see that it is early!), in order to sort out Ben for school, and then I am ready to work whilst the house is empty.

Today was kind of interesting. I am getting near the two-thirds mark in the writing. At that point I hit a real change in the structure of the book. There is a surprise in the telling of the tale. I have the detail of how that works all planned out now. And there is an emotional punch in it - at least for me, so I hope also for the reader, if there are ever readers of this great work. For a little while I had to pause as I reflected on what I am planning to say. And it's not even as if I've said it. I'm just planning on it. I do hope the reality works out as well as the intention.

You'll be glad to know the weather is overcast. In Florida. And that at the weekend as I head to Washington DC the forecast is for heavy snow. Of course, I only brought my small leather jacket; so no big expeditions whilst I'm there... I hope! I'll tell more when there is more to tell.

Blessings to all. After all, I am being so blessed here, it would be rude not to pass them back. Put your hand to the screen and just feel them coming right at you!!!

The In-between Time

Or – this is what happened on the third Saturday in Sabbatical! Because this weekend I am in between journeys. On Thursday I got back from Switzerland, got back to England that is – I don’t make it home to Wales till all this is over in mid-March. Where in England? I’ve been in Chorley, where my Mum lives, and where Matty is staying for the duration. The picture is Matty helping me re-pack my suitcase in one of the bedrooms in my Mum’s house. You can see how helpful he is being. Though right now I’m sitting in Manchester Airport. Very in-between.

The trip from Switzerland was uneventful. And the stay here has been likewise pretty dull – washing clothes, doing bits of shopping for the next stage, trying to fit in a few blocks of writing, a nice meal out with Dad and Lorna and a lovely lunch today with Mum.

Highlight? Man Utd thrashing Arsenal 4-0 in the FA Cup, I think; the victory was expected, the margin a delight.

Church this weekend? St Catherine’s on the MP3 player, one of last year’s radio broadcasts. So much moving around, and getting ready to fly down to Gatwick in preparation for the Florida leg that I had the option of a depressing hour in the local Anglican church here or the chance to walk the dog and enjoy the sunshine. Guess which won.

So I’m at Manchester Airport because tonight it’s off to Gatwick, near where I will stay with Owen and Liz, former neighbours of mine in Ponty (and the best chefs I have ever known) till I disappear off to Florida early Tuesday morning. This is the messy bitsy bit of the sabbatical, but at least I got to see family and Matty and now I get to see O&L, with whom I haven’t spent any decent time for far too long. They were the people who kept me sane when I first moved to Pontypridd. I owe them more than I can say – they were such a godsend.

So – I’ll tell you more when I get to the States. Keep praying! Blessings to all.

Moving On

Last day in Switzerland today.

The sun is still shining, and I am still writing! But I thought I'd include a photo of me actually on skis, just to show that I don't just take photos of views...

The group from St Catherine's are here now, and having fun. It has been great to see Andy and Esther and Steve and Julie and all the Youth Group/Kids as well. Also, Miles is in town with a different group, and I spent yesterday morning skiing with him.

Actually, I spent yesterday skiing everywhere! From 8.30am till 4pm. I just about wore my skis out. It was great fun. And today it has been a solid writing day to make up for it. Lots of progress there - though I need to do a bit more, which is hard, because I have reached a sort of break point, and to start again today would mean beginning a new section which needs to have its own momentum. Hmm.

This photo is Joanna and Al Copley. Al is the pianist at the Falken Hotel, and and it has been my great pleasure to eat with them these last few evenings, and to talk about faith, and to listen to Al's wonderful jazz and boogie woogie piano playing. He is a phenomenon, and their friendship has been a genuine gift aswell. One of the joys of coming here regularly is the renewing of friendships, and this one has been special this year.

But in the morning I leave. A brief trip back to England, and then on to the States.

Two further things to record before I finish for now.

As I walked across at Mannlichen yesterday, basking in the warm afternoon sunshine, glorying in the mountains, rejoicing in the freshness of the snow, I poured out my thanks to God for this whole experience, and I felt the presence of his Spirit gently lift my own. I record this because I will confess that it has been a while. With all my heart I know that his Spirit is always with me, helping, sustaining, guiding, speaking - these things I know and see. But I just haven't felt it for a while. The weight of work, responsibility, the sheer pressure of life and the intensity of a timetable. And yesterday, I felt it. It was simple, brief, wonderful.

Second, I had a remarkable dream the other night. About three years ago, a friendship I valued ended badly. I have many times since reminded myself to forgive that person, and prayed that I might be forgiven. Don't ask. In the dream I was speaking of this to an older, wiser person, but not just of this - we spoke of the many years of friendship that preceded; and towards the end, the older, wiser person spilled his glass of red wine over me. A clumsy act? Or a symbol of forgiveness, the blood that cleanses all. And I was suddenly aware that over many years there was much to forgive. And to be forgiven. In writing about forgiveness, I suddenly saw in this one friendship a microcosm of a whole world of relationships: we think one thing is the problem, and there is so much, it never ends, it all ties together, and we have to constantly work out hearts and lives where forgiveness is everyday speech and thought and life. And I can't make one person forgive me; but I can make sure I have forgiven them, holding nothing back, by forgiving time and time and time again. Till it's all gone. Till it's as natural for me as it can be.

Because then, I think, life looks different with the restraints removed. It's not about the past - it's about the future. And suddenly I think I'm getting a sense of what my sabbatical is about.

PS

And tonight I went back up to Wengen with Andy and Esther and Matt Jones to see Maggie at the Falken, to enjoy Terry's bar one last time, to listen to Al's piano one last time, to remind myself that saying goodbye here is one of life's temporary impermanences. As I said, it's about the future.

Second Saturday in Sabbatical

...Or, Update Number Two!

Right, so how are things going then? Well, the book is progressing nicely. This week has been a bit slower, but that’s for two main reasons. First, I’ve been going back over last week and tidying up, as well as just doing a bit more research as well as writing. Even so, I’ve hit the 40,000 word mark, which is half way. That’s a false mark, obviously. I intend to write about 120,000 words and edit it down to 80,000 in the end, so really I’m a third of the way, which is about where I ought to be right now. But I need to keep this rate going, which is going to be pretty intense.

Secondly, I’ve been a bit less prolific this week because I have actually been skiing! Yes, I decided to relax a little as well as work, work, work. So it’s been up early, out before the crowds, and get two or three hours on the slopes before eleven. Then back to the computer and off we go.

Church has been lovely. There have been some super people in resort this week. A lady who became a Christian here 25 years ago and was visiting again with her husband. Jennifer is a piano teacher, and I have seen her a few times. Antoinette is from Edinburgh and belongs to a tremendous church there, and has been very encouraging. Antony and his wife from Oxford know friends of friends, and time with them has been great. Then there has been evangelism, and that has been really good, with several wonderful people, in all of whose lives I am sure the Lord is working.

The weather has been varied: some fresh snow earlier in the week, and some strong winds, have given way to more blue sky and sunshine. Actually, the lower slopes saw rain one day, and this followed by a freeze and then snow led to quite treacherous conditions. The bottom parts of runs all turned to ice, and the Down Hill Only Club’s MacMillan Cup had a couple of casualties as early finishers careered off the course and into the car park. I spent a treacherous morning that day getting down to Grindlewald, feeling I needed ice skates more than skis, and treated myself to a large piece of apple tart in the rather fine backerei in town afterwards.

Prayer requests? Same old same old. Discipline and creativity in the writing. Creativity at good times of day, also, as I did get up in the middle of the night on one occasion, and fine as that was... Plus a real edge to my preaching this weekend, to touch the hearts of all who come to church, drawing them to Jesus. That’s what it’s about.

This is such a gift. Such a joy. Such a privilege. Nearly two weeks gone! It is flying by.

Fab-ulous?

I had the great pleasure of watching England beat Switzerland 2-1, the first match of Fabio Capello’s reign as manager, in Rock’s Cafe, a little bar here in Wengen. In fact, it’s where I am right now as I post this on the web.

Rock’s shows a lot of Premiership games, and so as you can imagine is very popular with British football fans. And, it turns out, with the Swiss, who came in cheerily shouting “Up Schweiz!” one by one during the early stages of the match. (Pronunciation guide: Oop Schweetz is as close as I’m going to get. Many of the Brits had no idea what they were saying, and cheered it with them!)

2-1 is a win. Better than that – it wasn’t like watching Steve McLaren’s England. Everyone seemed to be playing in position. They knew what they were there to do. They passed the ball!!! When someone passed the ball to Peter Crouch’s feet, I felt like standing and cheering. It was the 91st minute before the long ball appeared. Sure, Wes Brown looked a bit dozy; he does at Man Utd. Ashley Cole looks a shadow of himself. Wayne Rooney isn’t a lone striker. These are quibbles.

It was a different ballgame entirely to this.

And I spent it very happily in the company of a couple of Scots, Graham and Lynn, who had come to church on Sunday, and who then turned up again in the piano bar in the Falken last night. Most agreeable.

Fabulous Fabio? Not quite, not yet. But a great start in a friendly the manager wanted to win, which showed the right attitude after too many meaningless such games in the last few years. We look forwards with anticipation.

Skiing!

Finally, I made it out onto the slopes today (Tuesday).
Yesterday we had another blizzard, a terrific dumping of fresh snow, and the forecast for today was good, so I got up good and early, took my skis to be waxed, bought my lift pass – and off I went.

A beautiful clear sky, amazing snow under foot, a sharp fresh wind. Stunning. Down the Mannlichen, then across to Kleine Scheidegg, running through the trees to Brandegg, and finally down the long trek back to Wengen. Two and a half hours of blissful skiing in perfect (if cold) conditions.

For a first day back on skis, I feel remarkably fit, and my technique wasn’t too appalling. Decent rise and fall, decent control, good speed, no mishaps. I have a weak right knee at the moment, but it’s strapped up, and it gave me no problems at all.

Then it was a brisk walk to the Hunenfluh, where Jutta van Eeghen lives. Her husband, Ernst, died last year, just after I visited. So it was strange to see her alone in the house. She asked if I could recall what we talked of, and actually I could. We had a lovely hour together, and she provided me with a super lunch. We prayed before I left. The Lord bless you, Jutta.

This evening it was supper with Maggie Gerber, good friend and church warden here in Wengen, and her husband Ulle, who cooked rabbits for us. His own rabbits. Also there was Karen Jones, my original ski teacher too (for those of you who have read Salvations Song the book – she gets a mention there), and two other of Maggie’s friends, Paul and Sarah, who were really good company. Paul writes books on vintage racing cars. Fantastic food, splendid wine, and far too much of Ulle’s homemade schnapps. Quince schnapps. Blackcurrant schnapps. Apple schnapps. It’s going to be a slow start on Wednesday, I feel.

On the writing front, just a couple of thousand words today. But I did a word count on a couple of novels. First novels often come in at maybe 70,000 or 80,000 words. I’m at 31,000 or 32,000 after one week and only about a quarter of the way into the story. So it looks like I’ll have plenty of editing to do later on...

Saturday

Sun and snow, pleasure upon pleasure, endless gifts and joys without ceasing. Saturday is here and already I have to check each day which day it is - oh the joys of life away from a desk and a routine and a life of responsibilities!

Here's a photo of St Bernard's Wengen I took this morning. The cloud was down and the snow was falling, though as I look out now the sun is already breaking through again. There is a pristine beauty in the freshness of each morning here, whether there has been new snowfall or not. Each morning I pull back the curtain by my bedside to see what kind of day it will be: blue sky and sun, or wondrous, magical snowflakes falling like blessings from the sky.

I still haven't actually been skiing yet. Maybe Monday. I am enjoying writing too much. And day by day, my output is remaining high. Yesterday was a long, hard day. I hit an important point and wanted to just get it right. It will need re-working, and the end was rushed. But I was pleased with a solid day's work.

A book on forgiveness needs light and shade. You have to deal with things that need forgiving. They have to be faced. And if everything gets forgiven too quickly, everyone looks at it and goes, "but my life isn't like that", which won't do. Yet the power of what Jesus has done for us has to shine through, or the weight of what we face is too much. It's a balance. There will be time at the end to adjust if I need to. Yesterday was a day to face tough things. Today will take that further. Tomorrow - is Sunday, the joy of worship and Matthew 17, the transfiguration, which will be great.

Thanks for the prayers. I appreciate it.

Writing

A day and a half into writing, and six thousand words are done so far. That's not bad.

Are any of them any good?

Day one - yes. Today - has been mixed.

I have lived with these words, with these ideas, with the characters and places that will populate these pages for so long that as I begin to commit them to the page, they are old friends. But they live, they breathe, they have histories and shapes and theologies and futures that take me by surprise. I love this process!

And I have to give them their due. My voice has to rule, but only in order to give life, not to take it. There was a moment this morning when I knew I had to express a thought that was not within my normal expression. It was hard to frame words in that sentence.

I have not put on my skis yet; I have loved writing too much.

I am learning so much, enjoying these days, this journey. What joy.

Even my morning worship is new, with time for songs of worship unlike anything I have experienced in ages. This is a total privilege.

I guess it will get harder; but for now my sabbatical is sheer pleasure, sheer joy. Glory. keep praying!

Interval

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a creative mood

So I'm geting ready for my sabbatical. Seven weeks to produce a first draft of my next book. And this morning as I sat and worshipped in church before the day began (I always go in early on a Sunday) I must have been in a creative mood. For my fingers wandered over the keyboard, my mind settled on the words, and in twenty minutes the following just came to pass.



Which kind of expresses where I am right now. Ready to listen, ready to follow, ready to begin an adventure. Three weeks in Switzerland & four in the States are all lined up - but the big story of writing another book outshines the locations. And for the opportunity, my heart is simply fit to bursting with thankfulness.

And my dreams are filled with images and words from God. I'll try and take time out of the organising of the next two months that has to be crammed into these hours in order to record some of them for you, and for me! For tonight, that song will have to do.

"Take my mind, take my heart, take my all in all,
Take me at my word I pray."

Snow, Scaffolding, and Psalm 23

Which have nothing to do with each other - except they all featured in my weekend.

Snow.

On Friday I had lunch with Catharine Morris in Cirencester. Lovely - arranged for quite a while in order that we would have a chance to meet up before I disappear off on my forthcoming sabbatical. It was terrible weather, pouring down, indeed so much so that on the drive there I almost turned back.

But I had booked a ticket to go on to Hereford in the evening to see the Syd Lawrence Orchestra, and I did want to see Catharine, so on I drove.

I left Cirencester at 4pm, the rain having turned slightly sleety. I looked at my fuel guage - quarter full. Should I put more diesel in? No need - I'd fill up in Hereford later. But ten miles or less out, on the A417 towards Gloucester, I am stuck in snow. There's no snow on the forecast. The radio is only talking about flooding. But for the next FIVE HOURS I move one and a half miles. Quarter of a tank of fuel. Am I going to be here all night? Slight panic. It's a dual carriageway so I can't even turn back. I have a blanket, & snow boots in the car - though my mobile is dying fast.

When I can turn off the dual carriageway, I do - only to get stuck in those floods!

I eventually reach home just after midnight. A journey of 70 miles took eight hours, and I missed the concert - though so apparently did Chris Dean, leader of the Syd Lawrence band, who was also in the same snow drift as me, though he found a pub to hole up in. There's a committed musician for you.

Scaffolding.

Ian, site manager on the car park next door to us, rang yesterday (Saturday) afternoon.

"It's late notice, but we're a bit stuck, it's a money thing for us now, we have to work through this weekend, and we're pulling the scaffolding down off the site, so I'm just letting you know."

"Which side of the site?" I ask.

"Yours," he replies, embarrassed. "We don't want to disturb you obviously on a Sunday, so when are your services?"

"8 till 9, & 11 till 12.30," I reply.

"Oh, that's most of the morning," he says, unhappily. "We're going to have to do it I'm afraid, as I say it's a costs thing, we're behind and have to make up time. We'll try not to make too much noise."

And I'm thinking, they are pulling down a mountain (eight floors) of scaffolding right next to us. That ain't going to be quiet. Plus I know the planning permit for them, so I have a question:

"Ian, doesn't the planning permit have a condition on it that you don't work on Sundays?"

"Er, yes," he says.

"And have you sought an exemption from that for this weekend, cos I haven't seen any of the bills around the place that I'd expect to see if you have?" Because if they want to change any of the conditions of planning they have to put notices around the site and get permission to do so.

"No."

"Well, then I don't think we have a problem, do we?"

"Is that it?" he asks plaintively, hoping for mercy. And we chat a very little more, and that is how it is left.

Till 8am today, when just as I start the service, the scaffolding starts to come down. So I leave the service in Richard's hands, whispering to him "I'll be back", and I go outside. Because as far as I can see, the business of the construction of a car park has made a choice: their money is worth more than the people sitting in front of me coming to worship. And I disagree, and actually so does the Council who gave the planning permit. These people have rights. Money isn't everything.

You have to get the picture. It's still semi-dark. We are a Victorian building with a spire. Next to a building site covered with scaffolding. I am robed up - cassock, surplis, stole.

I call out to the nearest worker - "Excuse me!" He looks at me, shocked.

"What's the matter?" Irish accent.

"It's a Sunday, and by planning permission you can't be working here today." I was not at my most eloquent and most charming. I was straight to the point.

And then this guy was brilliant. Motioning with a cutting action across his neck, he called up to all the workers and told them to stop. "Guys, stop, stop!" he called, "the priest's here! Stop!" Then he turned to me: "I'm going to have to call the guy in charge, can you wait?"

"Sure," I said.

He gets his mobile out. "Kevin, get here now, the priest's here & he says we've got to stop!"

And I'm thinking - Irish Catholic. You've got to love them. I'm one picket line he is not going to cross.

Kevin comes: Ian has told him it's OK to work today, he told him on Friday. Which makes me slightly irritated that Ian waited till late on Saturday before mentioning it to me - in the hope that I wouldn't do anything, I guess. And that he then didn't get back to these guys. And now he isn't answering his phone (he never does on Sundays - I could have told Kevin that).

The scaffolder says: "Would you mind if we worked on the other side of the building, on Mill Street?" He's not upsetting 'the priest'. But he's got men there & he wants them to work. I admire his style.

"Technically you are still breaking the planning permit," I said - "but if I can't hear you, you can do what you like." And the scaffolder took control, and moved his men to the other side of the building, leaving me to arrive back in church just as Richard had read out the Gospel & I was due to begin my sermon. It is possible that Ian will be calling me in the morning...

Psalm 23

After Ian's Saturday phone call I headed out to the hospital. Gladys was very ill. At 92, she was diagnosed with cancer last year, and has been failing for a while. She was taken in to the Royal Glamorgan this last week. A lovely faithful lady.

When I arrived, her son Stuart was still there, and I chatted to him briefly before he left me alone for a while with his mother. Stuart was one of my church wardens when I first came here. He's always been a member of this church. Gladys tells stories of them coming up from her home when Stuart was a lad, of choir trips to Barry Island, of church days gone by.

When it was just the two of us, Gladys said, "I've lived long enough now". And so I told her I was going to read her a Psalm & pray with her. Those Irish Catholics would have a name for this; as a Protestant, we don't call it "Last Rites", but that's what I was doing.

I'd pulled an old, tiny white King James Bible off the shelf & popped it into my coat pocket. I think it was my Gran's, or maybe Dad's from school days. It seemed the right version for the occasion. And I opened it at Psalm 23.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

"I learned that as a little girl," Gladys said, as I finished reading it, "I could say every word with you." And we talked about the Psalm briefly.

Then I took her hands and blessed her, assuring her of forgiveness & the love of Jesus. We prayed the Lord's Prayer together. At the end she added, "Thank you Lord for helping me".

We sat in silence a while. Her breathing altered, and for a moment I wondered if she was going to go there and then. Eventually I took my leave. I told her I would see her again, but we both knew I meant in heaven. She blew me a kiss. I squeezed her hand and said thank you - for the delight of being a friend.

I walked out, & turned back in the doorway to see her waving.

It was lovely, peaceful, wonderful. We said goodbye, and knew what we were doing. I committed her into God's care, and she was ready to leave. This job has so many sides to it, but being the gatekeeper is the most sacred, precious thing.

My phone rang again at 9am to tell me she had passed during the night.