Tuesdays

On a Sunday morning a while ago, I met two ladies who I guess were in their early seventies.  They were neatly dressed and I imagined that they might have been walking to church.  The snippet of their conversation that I caught as they passed me by has lingered in my mind.  “Now listen,” said one to the other, “ – while I think of it – you know on Tuesdays you go to …”  Intrude with me, if you will, into this private conversation, and consider my thoughts about it, phrase by phrase.

‘Now listen’ – the speaker had to say this to gain her friend’s heightened attention.  For each of them this was an opportunity to unload the week’s events.  But what the speaker was about to impart was important.  She wanted to make sure it would be remembered, over and above their usual weekly chatter.

‘While I think of it’ – Clearly there was much to share when these two met; maybe they only saw each other on that occasion each week, and each had much to share with the other.  Having remembered the need to make this particular announcement, she wanted to ensure it didn’t get overlooked: crowded out by other matters.

‘On Tuesdays’ – Both the need to specify the day in the first place, and the emphasis which the speaker placed on the word, gave me the impression that on other days, other events would also be regularly attended; their average week was quite full.

‘You go to’ – For all her age, the listener was known to be an active individual, not content to sit in and wait for the world to come to her, she was able, and even more important, willing, to go out and find the companionship of others, and join in activities with them.  

And what of the bit I missed – whatever was going to follow, some detail about the forthcoming Tuesday’s activity?  Maybe it had been cancelled.  The build up to it suggested that there would have been, at the very least, particular inconvenience or disappointment for the speaker’s friend if she were to discover this on Tuesday; better that she was forewarned.  

Those fourteen words had much to say.  Whether an accurate summary or not, the incidence prompts a parallel question in my mind.  What does God want to say to me today?  Amongst all my rambling thoughts, and all I read or listen to, is there something special that He wants me to know?  One way to find out is to examine His word in the Bible, and to study it in depth.  This analytical technique is one that we can apply to any verse of scripture.  Treat it like a chocolate orange: ‘tap it, unwrap it’, and indulge in the full richness of God’s word.

Growing Stronger on the Vine

It’s a widely-held belief in the advertising industry that the long Christmas and New Year break offers people a great opportunity to make plans for their summer holidays.  In my case this year, it was more productive than many.  Instead of leaving things until the last moment, I’m all fixed up for a – hopefully sunny – week in July.  My mission is to lay one more ghost of the past, by re-visiting somewhere I went to many years ago with my now ex-wife.  It was, in fact, quite an enjoyable time, marred only by the fact that I was there on business, and it was actually she who did all the sightseeing!

Whilst musing on this aspect, I recalled a week I’d spent a few years ago with a Quaker family in Lincolnshire.  This was a more significant ghost-busting expedition, since it was somewhere else that the two of us had visited, this time during a rather tense episode of our life together, and I benefited greatly from the relaxation of being there years later on my own.  I recall sitting at my breakfast one sunny morning, looking through the open door to a great vine growing in the conservatory. 

Had it stood erect, the plant must have been a good eight feet from the pot to the tip of the topmost shoot, though this was hard to judge since it was tied across the metal rods that supported the roof.  If it were not suspended like that, the vine wouldn’t have been nearly so luxuriant; it would have got no taller than a foot or so above the pot, and then toppled, before perhaps being trodden underfoot.  

I wonder whether our lives are sometimes paralleled by the growth of such vines, straggling unadventurously, scarcely moving from the security of a humdrum routine, so long as we rely on our own efforts for development.  How much greater we can be if we are supported, if we are lashed to something firm, like that vine was to those roof stays.

Jesus used a vine as an illustration of his teaching (see chapter 15 of St. John’s Gospel).  Sadly there is an unwritten rule within our culture that says we should be able to stand on our own two feet, do everything for ourselves, and live independent lives.  We feel it’s a sign of weakness to admit that we can’t cope, that we need help, support or guidance.  

It’s a most selfish attitude, of course.  By kidding ourselves that we can be independent, we are not only reducing our own efficiency, but we’re denying someone the privilege of helping, of being the hands or feet of God in a situation for which they are particularly suited, and maybe called.  

To finish I’ll pass on a wise saying that (I now admit) always bears repetition.  Next time you have even the slightest doubt about your ability to manage something – be it family or business, major or trivial – remember to “Let go, and let God!”

C is for ... Beautiful?

From time to time over the years, I have taken great pleasure in listening to a particular song on the radio.  Sung by a group called Beautiful South, I believe it is called ‘Don’t marry her’.  The song is a sad tale of unrequited love.  The singer sees the object of her affections well on the path to marrying someone with whom, she is sure, he will quickly find happiness turning into boredom and frustration.

As I listened to it again recently, I realised, in three alliterative words, why I like this song.  It’s charming. A well-defined melody is matched by clear diction and smooth tonal qualities.  It’s catchy.  It took me ages to learn the words of the chorus, and I still have to concentrate really hard if I want to sing along with the record.  And it’s that chorus which provides my third ‘C-word’: “The Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco bay / And you realise you can’t make it anyway. / You have to clean the car, take the kiddies to the park. / Don’t marry her – have me!” 

The words provide a clear-cut message, spelling out the ‘plot’ of the ballad.  This other woman will quickly force the young man into a strict routine, affording him no freedom to enjoy life as we presume he does at present.  But this clear-cut message has a sting in the tail, as the singer contrasts ‘marry’ – presumably a permanent state, and possibly a blessed one – with ‘have’ – a régime of taking the pleasures of the present with no thought for the long-term.

On that occasion, two pieces of Scripture came to mind as I meditated on those words, and I invite you to look them up at your leisure and see if you agree about their relevance.  The first is Proverbs 5:3-12.  There is a definite tendency in twenty-first century, ‘post-modern’ life, whether in the specific matter of marriage or in other ways too, to look after the present, without a care for tomorrow.  It seems appropriate at harvest time to comment about sowing and reaping, and the obvious relation between them with regard to our lifestyles.  If we pay no attention to the longer term, to preparing ourselves for the future by following disciplines that we learn are not only wise but God-given, then we have only ourselves to blame when things turn sour.

And, finally, least we should think that there is any possibility of half-measures: of offering a nod of partial adherence to the lessons we find in the Old Testament, while still going our own way most of the time, I offer the simple statement that came to me at the same time, and is to be found at Matthew 12:30.

Suffice to say that, being now older and hopefully wiser through realising the potential lesson of the words, next time I hear this song, I shall content myself with the enjoyment of the music!

Comings and Goings

Janus, from whom January gets its name, was the Roman god of comings and goings.  He had two faces, one that looked forward and the other back, and often his image would be found at a doorway.   It’s fitting at the turning of the year to look both ways, reflecting upon what has gone before and looking ahead to what is to come.

Didn’t we have a long lingering autumn?  I believe those beautiful leaf colours are due to the timing of wet and dry periods during the course of the year.  But the gales of the last week or two have finally removed the last of them, and all we see now is the bare branches.  As you look at those tree skeletons, share some reflections with me.

Those branches are the framework of the tree.   When the new leaves grow next spring, we shall see once more the trees with which we are familiar.  Their shape will be the same as it was in last summer’s photos, obscuring the same bits of the street scene, just as ever was.  It will look the same, fulfil exactly the same function, even though every one of those leaves will be new.

Isn’t life like that?  Our pattern of life next year will closely resemble that of last year, with the same family, friends, neighbours and work colleagues.  We’ll go to the same clubs and society meetings, enjoy the same hobbies and interests; life will carry on in the same general shape as always.

The New Year will have brought some changes, though, just as a close examination of those trees outside will reveal the growth of new twigs and the loss of the odd branch here and there.  People move in and out of the area, take up new challenges and adjust their activities accordingly.  Someone at work may have retired and have been replaced; perhaps a dear friend has died and is sadly missed.

There will be changes within us, too.  We will, inevitably, have a different outlook on 2014 from that which we had on 2013.  Our attitudes will still be based on our individual history and our reflections upon it, but they will have been adapted by the experiences of the last year, as these have become integrated into our personality.  Changes in our lives might be caused by, but can also make us more able to deal with, changes in the world around us.

Some churches have special services for the New Year, encouraging their members to invite God afresh into their lives and helping them to commit themselves anew in His service.  If you have been touched in a new way during the recent Christmas season, let me encourage you to pray these words as you enter a new year in a new relationship with God.  They come from the Covenant Prayer of the Methodist Church.

Let me be full,

Let me be empty,
Let me have all things,
Let me have nothing:
I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal,
Glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

... Whirr when it Stands Still

“Christmas is for children.”  

We’ve heard it so many times, haven't we?  Often it’s really an excuse.  When we allege that this is a season which is only relevant to children, we are attempting to explain why we, as adults, no longer take part in the festive celebrations.  You can hear it in your ears as you read these lines, can't you? "Oh, they're just children's games." "It's all right for the children, but ..."

I think the real reason for this reticence is likely to be that, having passed out of our own childhood (so long ago that we can no longer remember what it was really like!) we’ve lost any sense of mystery. For The story of Christmas is all about mystery.  Who can truly explain what it was like to have been in that stable, or on that hillside, and to discover that there is something very special, something unique, about this tiny new-born baby?

It's bad enough two milennia later trying to get our minds around it, but to have been there, to explain what actually happened - 'mystery' is the only word for it.  And the trouble is, the more we hear it, the more we try to fathom it out, the more familiar the story becomes, the less we really understand, because we've lost with our childhood the capacity to appreciate mystery.  In a way, it’s like reading the end of a detective novel.  It can only be a mystery once; as soon as we've read it, the key to the puzzle is known; the spell is broken.

Among the songs made popular a few years ago by the Irish singer Val Doonican, was a ditty about a Marvellous Toy.  It told of a toy that had been passed down from grandfather to father and from father to son.  This toy made a number of different noises, which were added to the refrain by the singer according to his ability: “It goes [ring] when it starts, and [click] when it stops, and [whirr] when it stands still; I never knew just what it was, and I guess I never will.”  The mystery of Christmas is a bit like that.  We can’t define precisely what it is, but perhaps the wide-open eyes of a child, seeing a new toy for the first time, is a good example of that same emotion.

In the oh-so-busy, 24/7 lifestyle of the twenty-first century, when our senses can embrace so much and treat it as commonplace, it is increasingly difficult to get our heads round the idea of something as unknown and awesome as the experience of the shepherds on the hillside that Luke tells us about.  How can we imagine the wonder, taste the mystery, and feel the tingle of excitement they must have felt as the angels told them that the full glory of God was on the point of becoming reality in their humble world?

A verse which doesn’t often feature in our Christmas readings is Mark 10:15: “anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”  I believe it has a particular relevance in our present age, when childhood is so quickly extinguished and ‘teenage’ begins ever earlier.  Let us allow ourselves, if only at this one time of the year, to be taught by our children.  Let them show us, as only children can, something of the simple joy and wonder of Christmas.  Let our busy lives stand still for a moment, so that we can feel the ‘whirr’ of God’s tremendous love in our hearts.

May all my readers know the joy of a truly blessed Christmas.

The Dream Remedy

Along with much rubbish, it must be said, I find a lot of wisdom comes to me in dreams.  Now I've winnowed the wheat from the chaff, I feel this one is worthy of a wider audience.  The background was an upcoming school parents' meeting.  One of the teachers had handed me a draft of the speech he was preparing for this occasion, and invited my comments.  I told him, "It's too academic.  It's written by an academic, for other academics.  What parents need is reality.  Tell them how it relates to them, what it means to them, how it has changed your own life."

I've no idea what the subject was, and for this purpose it doesn't matter.  The kernel of wisdom that came from my dream was what followed - the need for a speech on any topic to be related to the real-life situation of its hearers.  It's a lesson that many politicians could profit by learning.  And while you might agree with that - or not - it's a lesson from which we could all benefit in our conversations.

Relating to real life is how Jesus spoke, too.  I'm going to finish this brief note by setting my readers some 'holiday homework' (sorry to pursue the school theme!)  With the festive season approaching, it's not beyond the bounds of possibility that you might at some point feel overcome with all that's going on around you, and need a little relief.

Let me suggest that you find a quiet corner, behind a curtain, or with an overcoat in the garden shed.  Take a Bible with you, and read through any of the four Gospels, from start to finish, like a novel.  Let the Evangelist's narrative flow over you, and soak up the story of Jesus' earthly life and ministry.  For a short while let Him take over your mind and enter your innermost being.  Emerge refreshed, and ready to re-join the party.

And if your friends should notice your refreshment, let your conversation relate to their real-life situation.  Tell them your secret - they might enjoy the remedy too!

The Numbers Game

In common with many models, if not all, my mobile phone has in its display an indicator that shows how ‘full’ the battery is.  I feel uneasy if this falls below 50% and each evening, when I return from work (or nearer bedtime, if I’ve forgotten), I plug it in to recharge.  In addition to the numerical display, mine also has a light that shines yellow while the phone is charging.  This changes to green when the charge level reaches 90%, so if I’m in a hurry I know that I can unplug it and go, confident that I shan’t be out of contact.

It’s strange how the difference between 90% and 100% seems far less than that between 10% and zero, while, arithmetically, they are the same.  I remember, many years ago, how I agonised over that brave step to begin tithing.  On the one hand, my conscience was telling me it was the right thing to do, that this was a Biblical precedent that I should follow, and so on; on the other, I felt that my income was so low that I would never manage if I were to give away a whole tenth of it.

One day, however, I looked one last time at a verse that had long been part of my dilemma, “Bring the entire tithe into the storehouse so that there may be food in my temple.  Test me in this matter,” says the Lord who rules over all, “to see if I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you a blessing until there is no room for it all.” (Malachi 3:10), and took the plunge.  As I look back now, over good times and bad, I realise that the effect - and indeed the effort! - of managing on 90% was quite small, and I just can’t think of anything that actually suffered.  I certainly never went hungry!  Today, with the financial constraints of a economic crisis, many people are having such a reduction of income – and far worse – forced upon them, and some have suffered so greatly that they do go hungry, if only so that their children can eat.  It’s not to them that this article is addressed, but to others.

One way in which these folks, and people in far worse conditions in the third world, can be helped is through Christian charity.  There are about 163,000 registered charities in this country, and many more that aren’t registered.  Some are Christian, some are not; most are genuine in their desire to help other people in one way or another; some are not – caveat donor!  At this time of year generosity is at its height, wearing a red coat with white fur trimmings.  It’s also the time of year when Resolutions are made.  May I suggest that, if you aren’t already tithing your income, it might be a good time to start, with some of that 10% going to the church, and the rest to a selection of worthy charities.

Believe me, it is possible to live – and to live well – on only 90%.  To someone else, that might be the difference between 10% and zero!