I'm thinking today about something almost all of us do multiple times every day. But I'll keep you guessing for a few more lines while I tell you about my mother. It's partly my fault, I confess, that her final years were increasingly lonely. In her eighteen years of widowhood, I visited her as often as I could - no, let me be honest - as often as I was willing to do so but, of course, it could never be enough. When we cleared her house after her death, we found her teaspoon ... with about an eighth of the bowl worn away!
It brings tears to my eyes as I remember the discovery; I can imagine her now, sitting at her table, gazing absently out of the window, stirring, stirring, stirring that cup of tea ... It's an activity with a definite purpose, to distribute the flavour throughout the drink, but in her case the purpose had long since been achieved and the action was just something for her hand to do while her mind was ... who knows where?
I apologise if the next comment seems unseasonable; I assure you it's not. The last Sunday before the beginning of Advent - we're talking the end of November - used to be called 'Stir-up Sunday'. In some households, I don't doubt, it still is. I was told it was because that was the day when Christmas puddings would be prepared, and each member of the family was invited to stir and make a wish. As good a reason is to be found in the Book of Common Prayer, where the collect, or set prayer, for the 'Sunday next before Advent' begins, "Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people;".
The prayer calls for those whose wills are thus stirred to be rewarded for bringing forth good works. The stirring that is requested (who actually beseeches these days?) is that the fruits of the Holy Spirit - see Paul's letter to the Galatians (Gal. 5:22) if you can't remember what they are - should be sufficiently agitated as to penetrate every part of our lives so that anyone having anything to do with us would know that we had been touched by God.
On the seventh Sunday after Easter, we shall celebrate the feast of Pentecost, commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Disciples in the form of tongues of fire. The traditional name for this feast - Whitsunday - is said to be derived from the white garments worn by those expecting to be baptised that Sunday, or alternatively new (white) summer dresses that might make an appearance that day. Another theory, however, dates from the time of the Norman Conquest when the Old English 'hwitte' (white) became confused with 'wit' (wisdom or understanding) (which is known in modern English in 'half-wit' or sayings like 'hasn't the wit he was born with'). This latter offers a more direct link with the Holy Spirit which brought new understanding to the Disciples.
However you prefer to think of the derivation, the fundamental aim of the feast is to remind us of the presence of the Holy Spirit in our hearts and encourage us to exercise those Spirit-derived fruits in our lives ... which is why that pre-Advent prayer is so relevant just now. So when you next find a spoon in your hand for its drink-stirring purpose, let it also remind you of the reason the drink is being stirred, and of what might need to be stirred in your heart!
Wednesday, 15 May 2019
Wednesday, 1 May 2019
What Are You Here For?
In many ways, I suppose, my life has followed the same general path as many of my readers. When I was at school, I had certain favourite subjects, those that I was good at, and those that I loathed, and in which I was rubbish. Unsurprisingly, after a few false starts, I found a career in accountancy, matching my lifelong inclination toward things mathematical. Later in life, I had a second career as a delivery driver, travelling the length and breadth of the country - and beyond, on occasions - and I realise that this, too, utilised a schoolboy strength: a liking for maps and my aptitude for geography.
Now again, in retirement, I find that the church - the broader church as well as the one where I worship week by week - has provided outlets for my skills: some that I was aware of during my working life and others that specific circumstances have drawn forth. Each of us has a broad variety of talents and it's my belief that these are gifts from God through His Holy Spirit. Often they are obvious, and we follow them up with no hesitation; sometimes, however, it takes an observant friend or maybe, as in my case, an unfortunate block to a career path, to bring to the fore something that has lain dormant for decades.
During our recent commemoration of the events of Holy Week, we may well have read the story of Jesus' three trials: before the Sanhedrin, before Pilate and before Herod. One of the charges levelled against Him was that He was the King of the Jews, a title that Pilate didn't really understand. "You are a king, then!" he said, as he tried to dig a little deeper into this Man who had been brought before him. Jesus replied, "You say that I am a king." And He added a few words in explanation of what that meant in His case. "In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth." (John 18:37). We were reminded of this particular verse in our service this week, as the preacher focused on why Jesus came to earth.
At this point, Pilate asked a rhetorical question for which he has become famous, "What is truth?" and, seeing that there was nothing about Jesus that would cause him political trouble, he abandoned the interrogation and sought the agreement of the crowd to release Him. In the face of the furore whipped up by the Pharisees, it was a futile attempt. But we're left with Jesus' statement of what He was here for. It raises a question that poses a challenge to us all. What are we here for? What is being asked of each one of us in our lives?
Now, that's a question to which I'm not going to suggest an answer for anyone, let alone my readers, of whom I know nothing. If you aren't sure what your purpose in life should be - and many of us aren't - I can only suggest that you pray and ask the Lord, or get a close friend to do so either with you or for you.
Someone said to me only this weekend, "You do a lot for the church, don't you?" I suppose I do, and indeed, many things can sit comfortably beside one another, making it perfectly possible to do both X and Y as the demand occurs, but there are others that aren't compatible at all. Usually because they are done at the same time, in different places, some tasks are mutually exclusive, and one person couldn't be expected to do them both.
St Paul gave a trio of things he might do for the good of others; in each case he stipulated a critical condition under which he ought to do them. Unless this critical condition was fulfilled, he said of the first, "I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal" Of the second, he said, "I am nothing" and of the third, "I gain nothing." That critical condition was the presence of love in whatever he undertook ... and, by implication, in whatever we might choose to undertake, whether for the church or for particular individuals (1 Cor. 13:1-3).
If you're anything like me, this is a question to which you may never have given any specific thought at all. There's nothing worse than feeling like a square peg in a round hole. It's a fundamental need for each of us, to know our purpose in life and to make sure that what we're doing is the thing we were 'cut out for' in the first place. Take your time, but ask the question sooner rather than later:
What are you here for?
Now again, in retirement, I find that the church - the broader church as well as the one where I worship week by week - has provided outlets for my skills: some that I was aware of during my working life and others that specific circumstances have drawn forth. Each of us has a broad variety of talents and it's my belief that these are gifts from God through His Holy Spirit. Often they are obvious, and we follow them up with no hesitation; sometimes, however, it takes an observant friend or maybe, as in my case, an unfortunate block to a career path, to bring to the fore something that has lain dormant for decades.
During our recent commemoration of the events of Holy Week, we may well have read the story of Jesus' three trials: before the Sanhedrin, before Pilate and before Herod. One of the charges levelled against Him was that He was the King of the Jews, a title that Pilate didn't really understand. "You are a king, then!" he said, as he tried to dig a little deeper into this Man who had been brought before him. Jesus replied, "You say that I am a king." And He added a few words in explanation of what that meant in His case. "In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth." (John 18:37). We were reminded of this particular verse in our service this week, as the preacher focused on why Jesus came to earth.
At this point, Pilate asked a rhetorical question for which he has become famous, "What is truth?" and, seeing that there was nothing about Jesus that would cause him political trouble, he abandoned the interrogation and sought the agreement of the crowd to release Him. In the face of the furore whipped up by the Pharisees, it was a futile attempt. But we're left with Jesus' statement of what He was here for. It raises a question that poses a challenge to us all. What are we here for? What is being asked of each one of us in our lives?
Now, that's a question to which I'm not going to suggest an answer for anyone, let alone my readers, of whom I know nothing. If you aren't sure what your purpose in life should be - and many of us aren't - I can only suggest that you pray and ask the Lord, or get a close friend to do so either with you or for you.
Someone said to me only this weekend, "You do a lot for the church, don't you?" I suppose I do, and indeed, many things can sit comfortably beside one another, making it perfectly possible to do both X and Y as the demand occurs, but there are others that aren't compatible at all. Usually because they are done at the same time, in different places, some tasks are mutually exclusive, and one person couldn't be expected to do them both.
St Paul gave a trio of things he might do for the good of others; in each case he stipulated a critical condition under which he ought to do them. Unless this critical condition was fulfilled, he said of the first, "I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal" Of the second, he said, "I am nothing" and of the third, "I gain nothing." That critical condition was the presence of love in whatever he undertook ... and, by implication, in whatever we might choose to undertake, whether for the church or for particular individuals (1 Cor. 13:1-3).
If you're anything like me, this is a question to which you may never have given any specific thought at all. There's nothing worse than feeling like a square peg in a round hole. It's a fundamental need for each of us, to know our purpose in life and to make sure that what we're doing is the thing we were 'cut out for' in the first place. Take your time, but ask the question sooner rather than later:
What are you here for?
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