On Pluto

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

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 His suite The Planets is no longer out of date, astronomically speaking.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

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

And have all the plutocrats suddenly become wealthy dwarves?

Passion For Your Name

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

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

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

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

Let's see how that gets answered.

The Rooney and Ronnie Show

Ahh!!!

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

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

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

Grief

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

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

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

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

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

Love is... my dog.

Grief's a bitch.

Book thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Superman Returned to

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

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

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

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

Every Breath CD Now at iTunes

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

Gifts and gratitude

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Story and meta-story in man and superman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone Fishin'

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

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

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

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

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

Heroes and Dreams

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life and death and worship

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

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

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

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

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

Let me slice this cake another way.

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

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

Salvation's Song on Offer!

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

24 Hour Praise People

And still my heart is soaring.

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

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

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

Let me know if you want to join in.

The Day after the Day

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

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

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

God is good. Honest.

24 - One day of worship

24 hours of worship. A perfect day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Easter Hymn

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

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

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

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

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

Overture

Overture

A gathering crowd is a great thing. People pushing past to get to their seat (and always, always that empty seat in the middle of the row belongs to the last person to arrive); your view is great till the person in front sits down and they have either the most enormous hair, or despite being five foot nothing "tall", this is due to remarkably short legs and their upper body is freakily blocking the view for three rows back...
The band is tuning up. Random notes and runs and trills send anticipatory thrills through the assembled throng. Then the lights start to dim.
I love this moment. Sheer expectancy. And I cannot believe how many people miss it! Last night I was in Cardiff for "The Rat Pack Live!" (a great show) and as the lights go down, there are people talking, shifting around, opening toffees - missing one of the best experiences a human being can have: the almost time, the time before the time, the nearly there time, the about to begin time.
Which is where we all live all the time if only we could see it. The Lord is about to do something amazing. We are almost at heaven's door. Salvation's Song is about to sound out. And we eat crisps or talk to our neighbour or ourselves or think of the supper slowly cooking in the oven or watch TV or do any ordinary thing that prevents our eyes seeing and our ears hearing and our souls soaring because the Overture is about to begin.