My Beloved

In May 2007 JD Walt & I spent a day together in London, along with Tory Baucum. JD asked me what I felt was missing in contemporary worship songs. "Simple songs," was my answer. We have so many complex songs now, that the great discovery of the early Vineyard music - that worship can be intimate and simple and holy and deep - has almost been lost.

Last week, as JD and I chatted on the phone, he reminded me of that conversation as he told me of this song which he had written, My Beloved. It's available as a bonus track on the iTunes version of Chris Tomlin's Hello Love album (reviewed here, here)- but not in the UK, alas. When I listened to it, I fell in love with it, and put together these simple images for our Sunday worship this last week. I hope it blesses you, for this is one beautiful song, and I look forwards to it becoming a part of our worship vocabulary here.

Stellar

When the retired head of the spy service says that Government policy is too secretive and anti-libertarian, it's time to sit up and listen. Oh yes, you'd been thinking I'd not passed any civil liberties comments for a while.

Stella Rimmington, erstwhile spy and now novellist, is reported in the press today as being extremely critical of the Government's policy during the "War on Terror", saying that their policies were in fact at risk of helping the aims of terrorists by reducing us to a police state. Read more here.

There is a certain irony in this coming from such a bastion of the Establishment as the Telegraph; and part of me feels that if powerful public servants felt so strongly when they had power, it's amazing that they felt so powerless to express such sentiments or act upon them. Civil liberties versus pension plan? Hmm.

I'm being picky. The more people like this join with the International Commission of Jurists in questioning policy and practice of our elected representatives, the better. There's an old song, which played us into my aunty's funeral - It's not where you start, it's where you finish; but actually, as a Christian, it's how you get there, and that's why we should care about these things. Freedom, respect, decency. Treating people like people. Loving our neighbours, not (glory, that this comes from MI5) spying on them & locking them up for being different.

God is Good

56 letters. There were 56 letters, not 17 as I was told on Tuesday, and I reckon at least 40 of those were from the church. I was misled. But God is good, and his people are wonderful.

Esther was super at the planning meeting, simply explaining what our children's work was, and how many kids come. The neighbours were lovely and kind, and those who came from church were so encouraging. Aled spoke clearly about the role of faith communities, and their recognition in society and law. I simply told of our gratitude for support from Kim Howells & the Archbishop of Wales, and how we had a letter from the Homeless shelter thanking us for our support. I spoke about how we cherish our children, protect them with all we can, and how we want the council to do the same.

Then councillor after councillor, starting with the redoubtable Mike Powell, added their agreement to our cause.

The RCT legal officer told them they did not have to consider child protection (both inaccurate and unwise) and the council unanimously voted against the proposal to turn the office next door into a drug unit.

We got our miracle.

Though, because they voted against the planning officer's recommendation, we have to go back to planning committee in four to six weeks' time and do this all again. So: we keep praying.

And we keep praying for CRI, who wanted to put this centre in this place. They want to help people, and I applaud that. I pray with all my heart that they will find the right site for their work in Pontypridd. And if there was anything practical I could do to help, I would do it.

90 Minutes

90 minutes till the planning meeting. Aled Edwards has come through - a genuine big gun on our side, a real answer to prayer - and we have a space for him to speak, thanks to Lesley Wilson who wrote in asking to speak, and has given her slot to him.

O Lord, please grant us a miracle.

Amen.

Till then - something glorious from the Vivaldi night to calm the nerves.

Please Pray

I'm asking for prayer. I've just been prayed for by my good friend JD and I think that at this time I would like to ask all regular readers here to pray.

We have a problem with a planning application going through our local council to put a drugs rehabilitation unit next to our children's centre. Normally I would be completely supportive of any initiative that exists to make people's lives better. I am delighted that we have had, over the years here, a slow trickle of people on different rehabilitation programmes. But putting a unit distributing methadone next to our toddler groups is something that I cannot stand for.

In a way, I am touched that some of the members here, some of the really committed and godly people, have not been able to get on board with my call to be firm over our children's work. But I guess I'd ask them to think what they are saying when they ask me if we are "here for everyone", and perhaps wonder how often my kitchen gladly plays host to people with drug problems without comment or judgement. And it might not be a coincidence that the Home Office, the Welsh Assembly, the Archbishop, the chairman of Cytun & I all agree that drug rehabilitation programmes are good: putting them next to kids is bad.

The local council has ignored legislation that protects children. I have taken it to them repeatedly, showing them a remarkable range of neglected laws from Cardiff and Westminster; the Archbishop penned a magnificent letter of support. You'd think that would make a difference. It might.

I was pretty devastated this afternoon when I learned from the council that no more than a dozen church members had written in to them about this, though losing this battle could endanger our whole children's centre. (I got a stunning email today from the head of children's services in RCT; it made clear that such a loss was a conceivable result of this planning application - and totally acceptable to him.)

I can't give you the whole picture - it's too convoluted; but I can ask you to trust me and to pray. To pray what?

That God does something wonderful that blesses everyone. It's always right to pray that everyone is blessed.

What that might be I am not sure.

In my mind, possibly I see that the people who are proposing the drug unit might suddenly find a better site. One we can support. One that does not threaten our children's work. One that allows more work in our community amongst more vulnerable people to happen, not one that makes a choice - this or that. I don't want to say they can't or shouldn't come & do their work; I do want to pray they don't come to their currently proposed site, because it puts an unacceptable risk on the children over whom we have care. We want to grow our work in an open and welcoming environment, not with security locks, fences and fear.

And I want to pray that whatever happens, happens by Thursday afternoon so that these guys retract their application for planning permission - or that the Planning Committee of the local council rejects it. This will take a miracle. But as God is God, so I ask you to come before him with me and I would rather seek a way to bless as many people as we can.

Don't send comments: just pray. I won't be adding comments to this. This church and its work in this place is my life, and I can't abide the thought of what we have to lose here. I just ask you to join me in praying for something wonderful, and that this planning application as it stands not be granted, though at the moment it seems inevitable.

Thanks.

The Shack

My new cleaner has almost finished her first shift. I know, but in the old days, there were a whole host of full-time servants here. I think I am quite restrained.

And you should try living in a shack like this.

O - you thought this was going to be about a certain book, did you? A little novel that makes God out to be like Guinan on STTNG? Right. Well, for those of you wondering about the latest must-read Christian publishing phenomenon (that doesn't have my name on the cover), Gary Smith puts his thoughts here. And for something at more of a remove, Ben Sternke on his blog has a recommendation for Michael Spence's one paragraph review of Roger Olson's 'Finding God in the Shack'."

Becky, my new cleaner, is still trying to find anything in this shack.

Let it Snow!

Dances with Snow Dogs...
The much awaited sequel to Dances with Spaniels. Can you tell what the weather here has been in the last day or two?

Baroque Videos

Here is the finale from the Double Cello Concerto at the weekend's concert with the Welsh Baroque Orchestra. A request from Mark! So there you go, we aim to please.

And then a final word for now - Amen!

Baroque & Roll

No - not another reference to the guy in the White House...

This is a first post about the Welsh Baroque Orchestra and their wonderful concert of Vivaldi Arias and Concertos from the Ospedale della Pieta here at St Catherine's this evening. (There will be more to come.)

Fantastic!

Such a privilege to host these guys, such a delight to hear them play and make wonderful use of our acoustic in a totally different way to our usual musical fare. Violin concertos, cello concertos, flute - as you can see - and then arias from Juditha Triumphans, a Psalm and another vocal piece that escapes me because my programme was snaffled!

However: I do have DVD, and once I have found some time I will post excerpts here. They were great, and it just goes to show that we don't only do jazz & worship songs! The Hallelujah and the final Amen from tonight's show will certainly be finding their way here & onto our church website vey soon.

We had a decent crowd: Pontypridd isn't, I suppose, a Vivaldi kind of place. (What is a Vivaldi kind of place? Venice.) But I hope we get this great period orchestra back, because they are excellent, and it is great to have an orchestra like this coming out of the capital and playing in venues like ours. A real treat.

PS - Just made it before midnight. So talking about music means it's not just Van der Sar breaking records today. 19 is the most postings I've ever done in a month.

Van der Sar beats Death

Edwin Van der Sar, veteran goalie, today beat Death.

The announcement came up during the online match comments on the BBC website as Man Utd played Everton as follows:

1905: It's official. The 72 minutes are up and Edwin van der Sar has beaten Death. The United keeper reaches 1,104 minutes without conceding a league goal, beating the previous mark set by Reading's Steve Death in 1979.

Not quite eternal life then. But twelve games without conceding is a phenomenal achievement. Which makes the next game the 13th in the run.

Does anyone know if Dutch goalkeepers are superstitious?

Nine Holes

As I was leaving the house this morning I discovered why I keep a collection of unwanted umbrellas at the bottom of my coat stand: Mary had had hers destroyed yesterday by a drunk in the library, and as she told me this (on her way to the library today) I was able to offer her two good-as-new ones to replace it. She was delighted. She then asked where I was off to.

"Oh, just to visit one of our old people who is house bound," I said.
"Ah, that's nice," she said. "You do that kind of thing do you? How lovely!"

I confessed Gill did most of it, but as she is on Safari in Uganda...

And the person I was visiting this morning is John Murphy. John was warden when I first came here, and my total hero. In a period where no-one really got what I was about, he supported everything I did and watched my back assiduously. When I see him now, (and he's just a week shy of his 85th birthday) we talk of the church, its life, its people, its glories, its problems, and I confide in him freely. I learned to trust him. He is a good man.

But I was in for a surprise today, which I think would have quite shocked Mary. John and I had nine holes of golf.

On the Wii.

I've never played on a Wii before, so the old man had to take me through it. He loved my incompetence. We had three practice holes first - well, they would have been for real, but somehow at fourteen shots over, I managed to wipe the game... Terribly unfortunate. So we began again. And this time, I said, "I am competitive you know."

John looked at me disdainfully. "You don't say," he replied.

The first hole was still his, a birdie to a bogey. But it was closer. I hit a par at the second - whilst this time he struck a bogey. At the third he had a torrid time and went four over, which put me in the gleeful lead - a position I never thereafter gave up.

"Oh dear," I said, "that was difficult."
"That you best pastoral manner?" he enquired.
And then when he hit the bunker at the sixth I asked, "Have you played golf before?" to the man who has lived half his life walking between greens.

It was a good job I'm half his age.

Pastoral visiting has never been so much fun! But should the pastor beat the parishioners? Oh well, I'll ask Gill when she gets back from those mountain gorillas. She'll know the answer. There's probably a part of her famous Visiting Course - "Wii believe".

Parradine/Milhous

Frost/Nixon is the second excellent film I've seen this year. This clip is for the original interviews, the real Frost/Nixon encounter. But the latest Ron Howard movie is engaging, gripping, well-acted and enjoyable. A good old fashioned double-hander, with two fine actors occasionally chewing the scenery.

So: 2008 - 0 (1, if I'm allowing QoS); 2009 -2. And we are still in January. Tonight I had a second look at Slumdog Millionaire - and it was still fantastic. Glorious. The archdeacon was off to see Parradine/Milhous, so I shall have to see if he enjoyed it.

Impressive (2)

Oh my. If you have been reading the comments on the previous post, forget Derek's attempts with the golf club - somebody just tried with his Golf. Or rather, his Skoda. The full story is here.

The BBC have video of the rescue services bringing the driver out of the car in the church roof here. Which takes a little of the humour out of it - though when you read the story, recorded in typical BBC-speak, that smile comes back:

Police said the vehicle was travelling at high speed when the collision happened in Limbach-Oberfrohna on Sunday.
The 23-year-old driver missed a bend in the road and drove through a railing before careering up an embankment and flying 35 metres through the air.

Am I missing something, or is that from the script of Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines?

Health warning: this is not to be attempted in Pontypridd under any circumstances.

Impressive

More wisdom from JD - though this is a bit different! Watch and enjoy. And don't get any ideas about the clock on our spire.

Agricultural Wisdom

Time again to give some column inches to wisdom found over at Farmstrong. JD has been opining for a while about the need for worship to centre on story, not text - that is, to bind us into the whole story of God, not into a preacher's 'theme for the day' (he has some great song suggestions for awkward themes though, and if you read back a couple of posts, I think you may laugh out loud). Creation, fall, redemption, resurrection, and the return of the King are ideas that JD wants to see repeated throughout our weekly worship so that we get the big ideas in our regular corporate dealings with God.

This is good stuff.

In a recent post, I posted a comment because I felt the initial post had a sentence (part of a quotation) that was apt to be mis-read, and you know how pedantic I can be. In part of his reply JD wrote:

My big contention is that we become narrated into the Story via worship that truly remembers the biblical narrative in a living (think anamnesis) Hebraic way of remembering. Jesus is our way in. Consider the implications of Baptism (the drowning of our plot and the resurrection into his plot) and the Eucharist, the continual nourishment on his Body and Blood in the power of the Spirit.

I guess you may have to read a lot of his stuff to get this, but then come back and re-read this summary. It is brilliant. I mean, brilliant. Fantastic theology. So good I want to claim it as mine - well, it is, I mean, I teach this stuff too, but perhaps not as succinctly or in these words (it's a while since St Catherine's had anamnesis mentioned in that precise word on a Sunday, though we get the concept every darned week).

I just had to post it in this form for now. When I have time I will post again, with a whole work-up of what this is about. But I LOVE it as a practical theology of how we design the service of worship for the corporate body as we encounter the living God in order to be more fully his people, filled with his Spirit and equipped for the service of the world.

A Second Inauguration

The Inaugural Concert at the BBC National Orchestra of Wales' new concert hall, the Hoddinott Hall, was held in Cardiff last night. This is a remarkable venue - it took half a Scandanavian forest to construct, and it is really a concert studio, because it works as a rehearsal and recording space for the BBC NOW, with seats for 350 people.

Yes. 350 people. A symphony orchestra and chorus, and 350 others get to listen. Well, potentially millions get to listen via the radio and the web, but 350 in person.

So - last night. The great and the good of Wales assembled. And I was in row C. (Presumably not being in the great, I scrambled in on the coat tails of the good). I have to say - it is a remarkable venue. The acoustic is warm and clear, it blooms without cloudiness, and then you get hit by a surprising clarity. I wanted to liken it to a Chandos recording, but at times it had the fullness of Decca, and then the clean-ness of Phillips. Where you sit affects the balance - I was too near the front; the piano was startlingly forwards in the mix. Next time I shall go further back. The photo is from the very back of the hall, just to give you an idea of the immediacy of the space - I snook my camera in and shot this pic before the evening began.

Anyway. The programme was designed to show off the hall and the orchestra - are you ready?

We began with a festival overture: Alun Hoddinott's Badger in the Bag. Can't hum that one? It's a riot of Celtic bombast, and a good joyful start. I didn't really hear it: I was listening to the occasion too much, feeling the glory of the first notes played before a paying crowd in this newest of Concert Arenas. A place beginning to yawn and breathe and stretch its limbs and come alive. Wonderful.

Then most of the band left so that the 13 percussionists could play Edgard Varese's Ionisation. Whistle along now! Actually - it was the epitome of squeaky-burpy 20th Century music. It genuinely squeaked and burped. I think someone was playing the vacuum cleaner. There were definitely sirens. And clacking things. And drums that played rhythmically without ever producing rhythm. I did the decent thing: I felt we were supposed to laugh, so I complied.

Next, the double basses and brass and a bit of woodwind came back for a world premiere! Simon Holt's St Vitus in the Kettle. It was sort of like the "Birth" section of Prokofiev's Lt Kije, but without so good a tune or any harmonic progression. The composer (who wore his best jeans and open necked shirt for the occasion) came forwards for our applause.

The first half finished with Beethoven's Choral Fantasy, which featured the superb pianist Llyr Williams and the BBC National Chorus of Wales. It's Beethoven. It has tunes and harmonic progression. Call me old fashioned, it put me in a good mood. Llyr Williams looks uncannily like Adrien Brody, whom you may remember from The Pianist, and he does a stunningly good line in meaningful looks at the audience at the end of long runs. His playing is beautiful - flowing, glorious, Beethoven as Beethoven should be.

The second half was split between two pieces: first, the Sibelius violin concerto. This was my highlight of the evening. Baiba Skride, a Latvian in her mid twenties, was stunning. And she played well, though occasionally I worried that she would have enough of her bow to finish the piece as she kept tearing off loose strings. And the piece is glorious and was gloriously played - all that Scandanavian angst resonating with Scandanavian forest we were sitting amongst.

Finally we luxuriated in Ravel's Daphnis et Chloe, the choir wordlessly joining in, the orchestra pulsating, the extremes of dynamics playing with the hall's acoustic and our ability to cope.

The BBC NOW was better than I have heard. Conducter Thierry Fischer seems to be personable and totally in charge. I loved the whole thing. The whole thing. Chatting with the people around me was great, and catching up with Byron Jenkins was super afterwards.

If you are here in South Wales, then go to the BBC NOW site and see if there's anything you fancy. It's cheap and worthwhile. Treat yourself!

Aled's Day

Today was one of those days that people will always remember: On the 20th January 2009 I was in the Nos Da on the Riverside when Aled's book West Wing Wales was launched. And we stood round a table of fried chicken and popcorn and watched Barack Obama be sworn in as 44th President of the USA, and listened as he gave his first speech as such.

Looking around at the crowd, for a while I let the gently rising voice and its pleasing phrases and cadences escape my notice: it was the Welsh faces and their rapt attention to the screen at the end of the room that caught my imagination. This is what words can do. This is what hope can do. This is what people want - and even if, after the words had stopped and the flow of hope was, for a moment, quenched, and the politicos and campaigners and hacks and hangers on dotted through the crowd tried to hide their emotions again as they faced each other, dreams had lived a while in the silence of that space. I hope that dreams come true; they deserve to; they need to.

Aled answered questions about his experience in the States taking part in the Obama campaign, and spoke movingly of how that experience should affect political campaigning in Wales. How hopes should be listened to and encouraged, and the sin of cynicism written out of our lives. How people need to be helped to see what is possible and then granted a path that takes them there, rather than be told that change will never come and they are always going to be trapped. Those who are trapped seldom unlock their own cells, but they are still in prison and still need freedom.

For a while I wished I had taken my camera. And then I felt it right I had not. In that bar, in that mixed and "secular" crowd, I was a part of something particularly holy.

And I will not forget this day: the presenting of a leader of the Free World who can speak and plant dreams in the heart of peoples.

Aled's Day.

Be Happy

From The Times: Kaka reveals that he turned down the opportunity to be the world's richest footballer after praying about it. "I believe I have made the right choice," he said. "To have gone to Manchester City could have been a great project but in the past few days I have prayed a lot to understand what the right team would be and in the end I have decided to remain here. I don't want anything else, I just want to be well and be happy."

Well then it's a no brainer - go to Man City & be happy? "Come on, sunshine," says the Lord, "It's Man City we're talking about. And they've just bought Craig Bellamy; do you really need help with this one?"

Seriously: here is a young footballer, a notoriously greedy breed, offered the riches of Croesus, and turning them down - because he prayed, and family and home and being happy meant more than money. OK - he has more money already than most of us will ever see, but he also gives away a huge amount to lots of good causes. And on Radio Five Live I heard the other day a discussion that basically put the future of football in this kid's hands. Madness & greed and big business and Middle Eastern sheikhs on the one hand - and the hopes of ordinary people that the game could be about the game and not just about the pound signs on the other.

Kaka, bless him, prayed. And the more cynical hacks of the media look on in disbelief as the big money is actually rejected and the beautiful game lives to fight another day.

When was the last time you faced a really juicy temptation and did a surprisingly good thing instead? It's amazing how many people get blessed when we pray and value the things that are really worth something: "I have prayed a lot... I just want to be well and be happy."

Hot Water

After Cafe Church last night, I was asked if there would be more video of Dances with Spaniels. Turns out not; the boy was in a gentler mood, and when I got home, was waiting faithfully like this for His Master to return.

Those of you who are more observant may notice that elsewhere on this page is a good representation of Matty's bed. This is not what it looks like. But who could be cross with such an image?

Plus, no need for a hot water bottle.

Fingers of Fudge

A reunion 20 years in the making. The original Five Fingers of Fudge recording was made in 1989, and now, for Chris & Ruth Holmwood's 40th Birthday Bash, we finally put "musical differences" aside and re-formed.

The role of Andy Jack was lovingly re-created by Jez Bennett, with the Revd Dr Michael Ward, foremost CS Lewis scholar of our age, recreating the role of Spud, a role he of course first made his own back in the late 1980s. Chris & I are playing ourselves. And OK then...

Here we are at that 1989 concert. Andy on the left, Chris seated (and the only one vaguely recognisable), Spud next (yep, the self same Revd Dr Michael Ward) and y.t. on the right. Sigh. All that hair.

15 minutes rehearsal in 20 years. Made no difference. Except - age has taken its toll in other ways than hairlines and waistbands; we had to sing down a whole tone. And that was the first time we had ever toned down a performance in our lives. Ruth's father has spent 20 years asking for us to sing at his church; now he'll spend 20 years asking us not to.

Happy birthday Chris and Ruth! O yes - the other song (in which 2 single clergy compare the merits of their existence with 2 Islamist royalists). And a visual joke for asthmatics.