what's the point?

What's the point? I mean, really. Four evangelical bishops (including the omnipresent Lord Carey, former ABC) have written to the Telegraph to remind us (again) of the fundamentals of Christianity in the modern world: here is their opening parapraph.

SIR – On Monday the High Court is to be asked to rule on whether Christians are "fit people" to adopt or foster children – or whether they will be excluded, regardless of the needs of children, from doing so because of the requirements of homosexual rights.

Two Christian foster parents have been removed from a register in Derby because they don't like gays. This is, say the bishops, an afront to all Christians because clearly all Christians are now no longer seen as fit people to look after children.

What is the point?

I mean, I think there are three or four things that strike me straight away, though I'm no bishop and never will be.

1. Views on sexuality are not the most essential part of our Christian heritage. Views on Jesus are. Views on the Bible are important too, clearly - but concrete applications of minor ethical scriptures found therein are something we need to be careful about. Nuance is the first casualty of a war written in headlines. All Christians are not excluded from being foster parents because one couple takes a vocal stand against homosexuality. That one couple does not speak for every Christian - not even for every Christian who labels themself evangelical.

2. When will these guys understand the simple pragmatism of Jesus' teaching, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you"? Because what the world hears is this: "We want to come down hard and sharp against gays. Persecute them. They are getting too big for their boots. It's time someone took a stand." And what happens then is, we have declared open season on ourselves. Do unto others... If it's OK for us to be bigots against somebody else, it's OK for them to be bigots against us. This is how this happens. We don't solve it by getting louder.

3. I read in one article about this foster couple that they said they would never support a gay lifestyle as an acceptable alternative; but if they ended up with a child who was gay, would they then reject the child? If that's a possibility, I find it remarkably unchristian, and would understand why with the local council might not put a child in their care. After all, though social services might be careful to match child and foster parents, not every youngster knows themself; a kid who wants to come out but fears (another) loss of home would then face a particular burden.

4. Am I alone in being depressed by seeing bishops view this subject as the greatest moral conundrum of our age? Why aren't they ridding the church of rich, selfish, lazy bankers? Or those who oppose or ignore climate change and related ecological issues? The Bible says far more about our stewardship of the earth and about the corruption of wealth than it ever says about sexuality, and even if you want to see being gay as wrong you have to see greed and oppression and raping the land as far, far, far more evil.

So I am glad to see reports (even ambiguous ones) about last week's Lausanne Conference in some papers. No, I didn't see reports of many Anglican bishops from these shores in attendance, though Alpha's Nicky Gumbel was there. But I did read (even in the Guardian!) of a far deeper grasp of Biblical concern for the world and the people of the world than Lord Carey & his friends seem to display.

What's the point? The stats on this blog reveal that one of my continually most popular posts is one where I critique George W Bush's professed Christianity. So let me redress that balance and express here how we should live as Christians in the profound words of George Bush (Snr): "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing". We, the ordinary folk in ordinary places, must simply get on with ordinary Christian living: loving God & our neighbour, not excluding anyone from God's love and doing our best to both pray his renewing Kingdom power into this world and to work it for here as best as we can.

fingers & thumbs

David Beckham goes for a massage. Courtesy of Ellen Degeneres. The funniest thing I've seen all week. Who knew he was so talented?

Catullus & Beckham in one day. Don't say this blog isn't educational.

friday poem

Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

Reading a friend's blog, I was reminded of this poem - something I read first the best part of thirty years ago, when I learned it for O Level. It's by Catullus, and in case your Latin is a little rusty, here's my (slightly free) translation for you:

I hate & I love. I know what you're thinking - Why do I let this happen to me?
I have no idea. But I feel it to be so, and it tears me apart.

Two lines that work their simple magic over the depths of the human heart. Emotions are dynamic, volatile, wonderful and violent forces, friends and foes, powers we deftly control and by which we are ruthlessly enslaved. We want to break free and cannot; we want to revel and relax unfettered - and cannot. Love and hate walk too closely together sometimes; for comfort's sake we want one to cross to the other side. But comfort is the goal of our emotional risk taking, not the guarantee.

We love because we are human. To not love, to be an island entire of ourselves is safer - but less than the imperfect perfection for which we are so brittly made.

There are days we are torn apart. And days we are healed. And days we are held gloriously and days we hold another, and days we understand and days we have no idea -

But not to have these questions, not to face them, not to feel them, not to struggle with them, not to begin to live a life that has the possibility of them - this is to accept life that is less than life, to number ourselves amongst the defeated, to become amongst the casualties of humanity that consign themselves to stand and watch real life being played out on playing fields and TV screens by others more worthy and more lovely. Such thoughts need to be swiftly dispatched.

Pain is not pleasure; but it is not the end, and not understanding is not failure. Victory has many faces; sometimes it wears a crown; sometimes it comes in the feeling torn apart and yet walking on, doggedly trusting that in the flip coin of hate and love and the maelstrom of having no idea, today is not the whole world. A friend of mine posted a YouTube clip on their FaceBook page of a Texas politician speaking about teen suicides, wanting young people to know "it gets better". Those are words not just young people need to hear.

God is bigger, and he is for us. At some point, though human hands we have cherished may turn against us, it is true, his hand will take hold once more and a wintry soul may yet again find spring.

still writing

So: another new song. Completely different, though still from under the big hat. I'm in a writing mood, and I'm trying different styles and themes. I guess because I so often write worship songs (and this is definitely not that) I want to point out that not everything I write comes from personal experience! This was sort of birthed by a movie I watched last week, and which stayed with me. (I wrote a couple of songs for one of our jazz concerts about six years back - pure jazz standards; I was asked who they were about: nobody was the answer, though I could tell that was exactly who believed me...)

Anyway. Have a listen. Hope you like it.

the return of podcaths

It's back!

Podcaths returns. The podcast from my kitchen table has had a year's break, but the vicarage Bible study is back on the web with two new episodes recorded.The first is already on iTunes, and the second will appear almost immediately...

We are looking at St Luke's Gospel at the moment, and (with background noise from scaffolders who are doing their best to re-design my home) I hope you'll enjoy our discussion. Search for "Podcaths Marcus Green" on iTunes - that should take you straight there. The October 6th & 13th 2010 podcasts are the brand new ones. Or just click onto the St Catherine's Website and access them direct from there.

Enjoy!

It's another new (old) song...

I was sorting out a box of music up in the attic today, in preparation for next week (I'm having a new roof, as you do) when I came across this worship song. Goodness, I must have forgotten 90% of the songs I have written. This, however, is a brand new recording of one I penned maybe 20 years ago, if I remember correctly, at Lee Abbey in Devon.

It's enjoyed several outings since then (stand up David MacInnes' 75th birthday) but I have to say that as I gain more years and lose more hair, its imagery sounds strangely less amusing and more whistful!
No - scrub that - I still love the opening shock of the chorus. Hope you do too!
PS - for US readers, the Zimmer Frame is English for what you would call a "Walker".

Miracle

On the BBC 2 Review show, I have just heard a poem by Seamus Heaney, read by the poet, which I felt was beautiful and so I record it here. It's part of his new collection, Human Chain.

Miracle Seamus Heaney

Not the one who takes up his bed and walks
But the ones who have known him all along
And carry him in –

Their shoulders numb. They ache and stoop,
Deep locked in their backs, the stretcher handles
Slippery with sweat. And no let up

Until he’s strapped on tight, made tiltable
And raised to the tiled roof, then lowered for healing.
Be mindful of them as they stand and wait

For the burn of the paid-out ropes to cool,
Their slight lightheadedness and incredulity
To pass, those ones who had known him all along.

more work, more progress

Same song, but a little better recorded, so hopefully Richard can hear some of the words now! It's a bit more finished too, though there's still work to be done. It's been a while since I was in a song writing mood.

work in progress

Sometimes I just write songs for the pleasure of writing songs. I've had the chorus of this in my head for ages, but it's needed a verse. I've been playing around with it, and this is the closest I've got. Still work in progress.

Pisa

My holiday has hit the end of the line. It's just another airport. I hate airports. Fake shops and frustrated families and business men with impossible tans and posh luggage. Stale air. I loathe the stale air. Do the ship it in specially to every airport everywhere?

We've been told to go to our gate. But there's a door that says only staff can open it. So we are standing here like lemons. I might lead a revolt soon. The plane will go without us... This is Italy, no-one will question why every single passenger disappeared...

And then London. The M4. Home. Matty.

Well someone has opened the door. Rebellion averted. Time to board. Who knows what adventures tomorrow will bring?

On the other channel

I'm wide awake tonight - still it gives me a moment to point out (in case you missed it) that over on my other blog channel, the St Catherine's News blog, there are a couple of videos that might be of interest.

At Easter we began the process of honing our mission statement as a church - both in order to come up with a simple sentence everyone could know which encapsulates what we are about, and also to flesh that out a bit and to be increasingly clear as to our role.

You'll find the video here. The sentence we are all challenged to take to heart is simply this:

We at St Catherine's are called to love God and our neighbour in Worship, through Evangelism, and with Compassion.

Happy

So I've been wandering around Florence with a smile on my face, happy. This is a beautiful, lazy, ugly, intoxicating warm temptress of a city. I love it. The familiar streets and sounds and the glorious, impudently brilliant buildings which abound and both make you feel totally insignificant and as if you rule the world all in one go - all this by itself would make Florence one of my favourite urban sprawls.

But then I turn my feet with fixed purpose towards Santa Croce, hoping yet again to find with ease the ridiculous back alley wherein is hidden Vivoli's, simply the best ice cream parlour in the world.

Of course I get there with no hassles at all. My legs are on auto-pilot, or divinely inspired. Who knows?

And then the choosing. First the price bracket. I went for a middle of the range 5 euro cup. And then the flavours. Always start with old favourites. This is no time for experimentation! So it was raspberry, chocolate mousse & a dab of meringue.

Taste buds dancing. The sky a little bluer. Crowds parting and clearing a bench so I can sit before my legs give way. Somewhere in my mind's ear, an orchestra plays Italian love songs.

I buy a second. And then walk and walk around the city, partly in guilt at the amount of ice cream I have just eaten, partly to walk it off, and partly because I am just simply happy. I climb up to Piazza Michaelangelo for the view. And back. And what the heck, it's ages till supper. And I won't be back for who knows how long. Should I get my third and experiment a little this time?

What do you think...

(later)

I have just been served the biggest steak I have ever seen. 3lbs of it. It didn't say it was big on the menu, just that it was "special". You will be relieved to hear I only managed half. The rest has come back to the hotel with me & will be lunch tomorrow! Though that still makes it pretty expensive... What the heck. I'm home tomorrow night, so I'll stop eating again soon enough.

Open eyes

So it's Thursday morning. I'm about to board a bus for Poggibonsi and then Florence. And then it's Vivoli's, and ice cream heaven. Nirvana. Whatever.

I had an unusual night last night. Deep sleep, vivid dreams. The kind that stick with you. And this following on from a day when I felt a couple of internal priorities reverse. I do find holidays good for this - I am useless at turning off from the things that fill my mind in ordinary time, but allowing those thoughts space sometimes turns them on their head and brings a new clarity. Opens my eyes a little.

So I thank God for sunshine & walks in Tuscan countryside. And for the prospect of seeing differently. And for ice cream. Oh yes, bring it on

Restoration

So I went into the basilica here to enjoy the murals. They have a lovey presentation guide book now with pictures of everything, which is new since I was last here three years ago. They are massive and medieval and incredibly impressive, though a few panels are incomplete.

It was one of those panels that grabbed my attention.

The resurrection panel has almost nothing in it. In the midst of all the colour and detail and flashing eyes all around, there is just bare plaster - and two solitary moments that have been restored.

First, everyone who walks past it sees the foot of the risen Christ, still bearing nail prints, standing firmly on the devil who is being squashed and consigned to a coffin. Second. Jesus' outstretched hand is lifting someone from the grave and giving them life.

These tiny fragments on these huge walls reduced me to tears. Christ stands triumphant over the things that defeat us. His foot is stronger, even maimed and bloody, than any enemy or foe. O Lord please crush the things that crush me so effectively. Help me see this picture and trust this truth.

And then realise that your hand holds mine. Your hand pulls me up. When I feel destroyed, you are the one who makes me alive again. It's not just about the end of all things. Its not just about death. It's about the hundred deaths we all experience too often. And your foot is strong enough to finish them off. And your grip firm enough to lift even me.

So often religious art just makes me squirm. And then I see something that makes me soar.

Rest

I'm sitting here in the Piazza della Cisterna in the middle of San Gimignano. I'm sorry, but as this is coming from my iPhone (courtesy of the free wi-fi the ceramics shop opposite is kindly providing) you are going to have to wait for photos. Or use the twitter feed. Or look at my facebook page. See, I just give and give.

The sun has blown away some early clouds, though there is still a rather wonderful breeze playing on the back of my neck. Everywhere people are taking snaps or sipping wine or standing there consuming hungrily their extravagant ice creams. It appears to be German week here. Even in my countryside palace all the other guests are Teutonic. And yes, one of them was out very early to place his towel on a sunbed by the pool. I kid you not.

The walk from Il Castagnolo into town is a good 40 minutes. And stunning. But that stroll gives me an excuse for a little holiday excess... I found a lovely little tratorria last night, just outside the town walls. No German spoken. No English either- clearly this is where locals go. So it wasn't fancy, and it wasn't expensive, but it was good. And the rabbit with olives was excellent. As was the house white.

I popped into San Agostino earlier. They have a painting of St Sebastian (praying for his faithful people) which is the spitting image of Robert Powell. And shortly I will wander over to the little cathedral here, which has fantastic murals. Wonderful. Then I shall sit in the sun & read a paper.

I hope you are all having a lovely day at work, and the weather is equally kind where you are. God is good. Now - ice cream.

Ten

This night, ten years ago, I became vicar of St Catherine's. Well, actually, priest in charge. I didn't get the free upgrade to vicar for another fourteen months. But this is when my time here started, and the good folk here chose to mark the day with a few words and a spot of champagne.

Of course, the reading this evening was from Isaiah 43 - "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!" So it was appropriate to think of the last ten years... hmm...

And yesterday, a lovely member of the church, Barbara Hargreaves, passed away after a final battle with cancer. She was very dear to me. She took part in that service ten years ago, and her husband, who had died before I came, actually went to the same primary school I attended in Accrington. I had spent a little time with her on Friday, and we had prayed together, and she had asked me to read to her from Phillipians 4 -

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

We took our leave of each other. I promised I would see her again; we both knew it would not be this side of Glory. She told me she was at peace.

Ten years.

I think of the saints who have gone before. Ken & Hilda & Phil & Gwyneth & Cynthia & Edith & Mabel & Gladys & Mac & far too many others to mention.

I think of worship and sermons and Bible studies and lights going on over people's heads and in their hearts. You do get to see it sometimes. I think of prayer groups and home groups and Alpha courses and countless hours of practical work done around the place and the fellowship of the saints that happens in the rough.

I think of sleepless nights and pain and loneliness too. It's all part of it.

"Does it seem like ten years?" I was asked, several times.

What does ten years seem like? I've never been anywhere for ten years before - not since I was a kid, growing up in Accrington, anyway. Does it seem like that? No, not really. And yes, I suppose. Ten years is both forever and about half an hour, isn't it? I had hair when I came. And about twenty pounds more around my waist. Matt was born the day after; not that he came here for another 18 months - Charlie was the Springer in Residence back then.

Goodness. I wouldn't have swapped it for the world. I came because I felt the Lord whisper in my ear that we could grow a church here.

But anniversaries are strange things. They focus on us, and they focus on the remembering. But God is not in the past. Hence that reading from Isaiah. Don't get stuck in yesterday. He's doing something new. Now. Here. Today. There are people here today he's working in. Look! See! And there will be more people along tomorrow for him to love as well. So as long as I'm called to be here, I'm called to be a part of this - in my very simple sort of way. I'm just a short bald guy trying to follow Jesus, and seeing if anyone wants to come along with me.

My job is to worship God; his job is to grow the church. That was true on September 5th 2000. It's still true today.

Greenbelt 2010

They gave me a free pass. What was I to do? I stood chatting to Simon Hall, old Oxford acquaintance and now a trustee of Greenbelt, who commented that at Soul Survivor he feels like he is seen as a bit wooly & liberal, whereas at Greenbelt he's a token fundy. Context is all. And Greenbelt stll felt like it did the last time I was there 23 years ago - theologically anything goes, but preferrably a bit rebellious and although many folk seem to have some connection with the evangelical church, they are there to cut loose. A little. It walks a fine line between being naughty and provocative.

Example: the headline speaker was a guy called Richard Rohr, a Franciscan. The talk of his that I caught ("looking sideways at the church") was presented as a forward looking manifesto for the "emerging church" as it seeks to do better than the monolithic denominations that struggle to work in the post modern world- but actually it was simply a re-working of fairly standard Franciscan anarchy. Of course, there were those who lapped it up; it was the right crowd for it. And I'm not going to do an in-depth critique here, but I did feel RR was a little dishonest - dressing an ancient Christian idea in Emperor's New Clothes for an audience who would be delighted by it, without pointing out why Franciscan anarchy has so very often gone very seriously wrong - both in the falling apart of local initiatives and in the reverting to the monolith it so assiduously attempts to subvert. Ho hum. Naughty or provocative?

Speaking of which - Peter Tatchell. He paid tribute to Anglican Mainstream for giving him good publicity... (definitely naughty) and critiqued Rowan Williams very strongly (definitely provocative) but actually rather well. I am a supporter of Rowan's unity policy; but PT's critique was that Rowan has been silent on human rights (we're not talking the sideshow of gay bishops here) - human rights where 46 Commonwealth countries still criminalise homosexuality, often at the behest of the churches, and half a dozen of those have the death penalty for it. And Rowan keeps unity with those churches as a more prized goal than the rights of the people who suffer. That was a powerful critique, and one I hadn't heard in such terms before. You don't get this guy at too many Christian events, and though I think his understanding of the Scriptures is limited, I was impressed by him.

Provocative, naughty - downright weird. I spent a wonderful hour (courtesy of Andrew Powell) at the Greenbelt Folk Club. Some of these people actually were attractive human beings. And yet they were in this room that was the very definition of "sub-culture". If you have been to Greenbelt and not been in that gathering, you have not really been to Greenbelt. Until you have heard a man stand up & say seriously "I'd like to play my current favourite Morris Dancing tune" and then do so on his accordion, you haven't really experienced everything this festival has to offer.

Though most of the music is a bit different to that. Courtney Pine on mainstage was glorious - I didn't know whether I would like him; he's not really my kind of jazz. But actually - I totally loved the whole set. Fantastic. He can certainly work a crowd, and though he was a bit squeaky & lets-play-a-million-notes jazz at times, his band was extraordinary, and the whole thing worked. Big time.

Similarly, I totally loved the Dodge Brothers in the Big Top on the last evening. A skiffle band most famous, I think, for it's bass player (film critic Mark Kermode), they were high energy fun that had the whole crowd dancing from start to finish. At one point near the start the generator blew - so in the dark they shushed the crowd and played acoustically, amazingly, till power was restored. And then went full pelt for ages. Exhausting. Who needs circuits in the park to keep fit?

I was told I had to experience Beer & Hymns. The guy leading it in the on-site pub (The Jesus Arms) started off by saying "We like.." "SINGING HYMNS!" shouted the crowd; "and we like.." "DRINKING BEER!" everybody hollered. So we did both. It was a lot of fun. Especially when most of the hymns were in 3/4 time, so we had a good sway going on. There was a limit on the number of people they let in, so there was a huge crowd outside just enjoying the event as "...& Hymns". And though I'd gone alone to this, I met up with Hannah Powell from around the corner here, who introduced me to Joy & Dave & Andy, and it was great fun to get to know them & spend a good part of the weekend with them.

Oh yes. I was camping. In a tent. It's true. I am receiving counselling for this. Thanks to John & Clare for hospitality, and especially to John for helping find me when I arrived & for ferrying me back to the carpark at the end!

One last thought to finish with.

I heard theologian Stanley Hauerwas. He was reading from his memoir, and honestly, I was a bit disappointed, but then in the questions he offered a one-liner that I hope I remember always. He was speaking about intercession and the power of praying for each other when we are going through the mill. He said:

Other people praying to God for me made God present to me in a way I could not make God present to me.

I saw tons of friends, people I haven't seen for ages, and made some new ones as well this weekend. I also saw a couple of folk with whom my relationship has become tense over the years, and when we saw each other we were unable to communicate. I was deeply, deeply upset by this. I don't know how they are feeling spiritually. But I wish I could tell them I am praying for them; that I am asking God to be present for them. And I hope I can believe they are doing that for me - Lord knows I need it too. And maybe one day soon, with God answering these prayers, that truth will make enough difference to restore us again.

Provocative, naughty, weird, glorious, fun, disturbing, inspiring, sometimes very cold - but I'm glad I went.

news round up

So thanks to those regulars who point me in the direction of news items that have caught their eye - both the regular ridiculous stories that fill the pages of the Telegraph, and the faith stories that pop up from time to time.

Two of the latter have been pointed out by a few of you, and of course I have my own opinions.

What, you were afraid I was going to keep them to myself? Never fear.

First - the Ground Zero Mosque. All America seems to be caught up in the rights and wrongs of this particular proposal - and the trusty Telegraph carries a remarkably balanced article (if predictably taking a swipe at Obama) here. It's not a mosque, it's a cultural centre, there won't be minarets, and it's not actually at Ground Zero. I love the detail that among its neighbours will be the Pussycat Lounge strip joint; no protesters about this, apparently. Charlie Booker has a wonderful rant about all of the above here. It's very entertaining.

What do I think? What does it matter what I think? But for the record - I am on the record as being a tolerationist. We have fought wars to allow people to be people and not to demonize those with whome we disagree. Putting people into ghettos is Hitler's policy, not that of decent folk or even pretty poor Christians. If they want a cultural centre next to a strip joint in Lower Manhattan, then let them apply and see what the city does with it.

Minarets at Ground Zero would be an unadvisable request, but that's not what anyone is asking for. And those who are putting that idea around and who stir up crowds as a hobby should be ashamed of themselves. Which is asking a lot. But there you go.

Now. Here's another story - from the Telegraph - but on a favourite Anglican topic. Have a read of this. Gay vicar to marry Nigerian male model. Colin Coward is quite a well known figure in certain circles, and clearly here is seeing himself as a bit of a trailblazer. It's a colourful story - he's a lot older than his partner, who is African (from one of those places where the Archbishop is vehemently anti-Gay) and that he is a model just adds spice to the news print.

But what we actually have is a vicar having a civil partnership ceremony - and Colin is hardly the first. He's hardly the first to follow it with some kind of blessing either. It's the sort of thing the Telegraph does well - though you can't help feeling the Daily Mail would have made it even more salacious. Maybe it did.

What gets me about this story is this: we all know the rules, we all know gay clergy are supposed to be celibate, and we all know that some keep this and some are less honest. But I find Colin to be stunningly dishonest here. He talks about his sex life with his partner, and says it's his own business and the bishop has no right to ask - whilst making it absolutely clear they are "marrying" (his word - at the moment that's not quite the legal situation, and that's another issue) and then insinuating that they will make full use of all that this entails. Don't insinuate. Say it clearly. If it means that much to you - be honest. Honestly break the rules if you believe they are that wrong - but I find the nod & the wink and the "know but don't say" stuff utterly indefensible.

If you believe something - stand up for it. Totally. For goodness sake, if this is the person you love, you shouldn't have to hide the fact or apologise for it. By all means break a rule in order to make a better one. The world has been improved by many people who have done this. But bending rules, playing with moral codes and bishops as arbiters of the church's conduct when the issue is supposed to be so important to you speaks only of lack of integrity and moral weakness. Get some backbone, Mr Coward.

It's not the issue I find offensive you see. I find liberals in the church who think themselves at the cutting edge of a new morality so wholly compromised that any desire I have to be "tolerationist" and to embrace all people as people in the way I find Jesus doing in the Gospels is actually almost impossible to put into practice, because these guys make it so darned hard.

people say the nicest things

People say the nicest things...

Before church this evening, there was a chap sitting outside, and a couple of the regulars spoke with him and then asked me to do the same. He really didn't want to listen to what I had to offer, and to be fair he seemed to be in a bit of a mess, so I invited him in whilst wondering what we could do practically to help.

It was cafe church tonight, and folk were busying themselves preparing for this, having spent quite a while with this guy. As I got the screen ready he came over with a memory stick and wanted me to put it into the laptop we use - which has zero security on it, and I just didn't feel like taking a memory stick that I had no knowledge about and stuffing it into our computer, so I (really very) politely declined, and tried to talk to the guy whilst carrying on with what I was doing.

But he was upset with me. I was accusing him of putting a virus on our machine. No - but I had to be careful. I was like all Christians, ignoring him and not willing to help. There was a book about a man going into a church, he said, where a vicar was really spiritually dead, and the man wasn't helped at all and died. It made the vicar question who he really was. What would Jesus have done?

You know, I've had a week. I have felt like a failure all week because of one situation which I tried to put right, really I did, only I made it much much worse. I'm still trying to do the right thing in that situation because there are all sorts of things I could do (some of them quite reasonable!) that would make it far, far worse. I have felt all week that the worst thing about being a vicar is that you aren't quite human. People say they want you to be human, but they don't - they really don't. Once you are in a messy situation, anything less than being perfect is simple unacceptable.

Quite right. It's how I judge myself. No-one is as hard on me as I am on myself.

I didn't need some self-righteous jerk coming in just as we were getting ready for church and reminding me of all this. And upsetting several other people by judging them as well.

I can't sort every problem. I will make some worse. It turns out that with the best will in the world, people I hold dear get hurt - and sometimes by me. Wearing a dog collar is no protection, it's not a spiritual condom, keeping the mess inside. If I need to be perfect to be the vicar - I am in the wrong job.

And so is every other clergyperson out there, though some fake it better than me.

But I won't fake it. I may not be the easiest person in the world - but I tell you this: what you get is unremittingly real. I'm just a short bald guy trying to follow Jesus, with all my heart, and if that's not enough then I'm sorry, but it's all I have to offer.

My job is to worship Jesus. That means, my job is to give myself to Jesus - all of me in total obedience to him. The good bits of me and the bad. It's a journey. It's a struggle. But it's honest and it's true and it's life changing and as long as I'm doing it, I'll invite those around me to join in. See where it goes. See where it takes me. See what it looks like.

I hold onto the job lightly - it's a privilege, not a right - but the life of following Jesus is something I will always have, something that will always remain true and will never be open to question. I do have a judge: and I don't dread him.

When Jesus tells us not to judge each other, it's because we have this thing whereby we forget that in the moment our own lack of perfection prevents us from both seeing everything as it really is, and from saying everything as it really is. So love and tolerance and forgiveness end up being better options so many times because what we'd want to receive on our off days is what we should offer. And how do people get better? People who need to be told how wrong they are?

Anyone who thinks condemnation works better than counsel hasn't quite understood the difference between how the Accuser works in our lives, and how the Spirit works. Call me old fashioned, but with Romans 5.8 high in my mind, I'm going to opt for love as the higher motivator every time.

Now. I have a self-righteous jerk to forgive, though I may never see him again. And there are others high on my heart to pray for too. And I have to go back to busily being a failure as I so imperfectly try to be a human being following Jesus - albeit with all my heart; anyone coming to join me?

waiting

I've got a small, irksome little issue facing me, the kind of problem that just won't go away. Doesn't actually matter what it is. I've been trying to deal with it, find a way around it, sort it out, and I can't quite get there.

I got to the point where I prayed that prayer we all get to - "Lord, just deal with it. You sort it." I mean, I'm quite prepared to keep working. I'm sure I'll work it out. It's hardly the biggest thing in the history of the universe! But I'd be quite glad if God just stepped in & took this item out of my in tray so that I could get on with other stuff. Just magically, wonderfully dealt with it. Sorry - miraculously, wonderfully dealt with it. I'm forgetting myself.

Anyway. So I pray this & continue worrying away at it. And then I get this feeling that God is sort of smiling at me. You know how he does that? When you have asked for something & then carried on but he kind of has something up his sleeve?

So my Bible reading yesterday included Psalm 27, which finishes with these words:
Wait patiently for the LORD.
Be brave & courageous.
Yes, wait patiently for the LORD.

And I thought to myself - that's really encouraging. God is speaking to me. He is telling me he will help. I shall wait on him. And then overnight I thought of other stuff I could do, and decided I would do it today.

Except, this morning as I read my Bible readings I kind of felt God speaking that bit louder. Challenging me. Now - here's the thing; this process has been going on a couple of weeks, and I'm letting you in on a couple of days. Plus, the way I am about to take a Bible passage MASSIVELY out of context is not how you should read the Bible. I really don't commend doing this - and yet as I read it this morning, something in my heart stirred & it felt like Jesus speaking.

Ah.

So, this is what happened. I was reading 1 Corinthians 2, and in my head were both the plans I had for the day to do this thing which had occurred to me overnight and the instruction to wait for the Lord. After all, these seem to be a contradiction to each other. Either I wait (and be obedient) or I just do my own thing - though in the circumstances, I think most people would say that in acting I was being really sensible as my plan of action is a good one. It may even deal with the issue that has been nagging me for a little while now. That's what's in my head. This is waht was on the page:
No eye has seen, no ear has heard
and no mind has imagined
what God has prepared for those who love him.
...We have received God's Spirit (not the world's spirit) so that we can know the wonderful things God has freely given us.
When we tell you these things, we do not use words that come from human wisdom. Instead, we speak words given to us by the Spirit, using the Spirit's words to explain spiritual truths. But people who aren't spiritual can't receive these truths from God's Spirit. It all sounds foolish to them & they can't understand it, for only those who are spiritual can understand what the Spirit means.

I sat there & thought to myself, God is speaking to me. Practically I really, really ought to do what i have planned to do today. But I asked for God's help with this, and I think he is saying he has it under control. Am I daft for thinking this? Maybe. But here is a spiritual truth: faith is about trusting God with all sorts of things in our lives, great and mundane, and I guess when I believe I have heard him say "wait", then "wait" is the command.

It may mean I need to do all the work I have planned - but not today.
It may mean he is going to do something wonderful and there is no need for me to act at all - he will resolve things in a way that shows how great he is.
It may mean something else altogether, but my acting now would either spoil the best outcome or be pointless.
It may mean that my acting now would neither help nor hinder, but waiting will help me trust him more, and that will do me more good whatever else comes next.

The Psalm set for today had these words:
The LORD is my strength and shield:
I trust him with all my heart.
He helps me and my heart is filled with joy.

I do trust him. So I will wait. I closed up some pages I'd opened up on the computer. I went to the cinema (Toy Story 3 - take hankies). I don't know how this will play out - except that I will have wobbles along the way; but my life with God - by which I mean the story of my whole life - tells me that when I hear him telling me that he has this one, he means it. He might do it differently to what I expect. He often takes it to the wire. He always gets it right.

Tick. I can cross this off my to do list. Is that hopelessly optimistic? Shamelessly super-spiritual? I am struggling to get my head around it entirely.

And my reading from Proverbs kicked in at that point:
The LORD directs our steps,
so why try to understand everything along the way?

I could give so many answers to that question! But for now, I'll just wait.