tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17093808698540266972024-03-12T16:54:52.210-07:00Do you want to Thrive or just...survive?Explorations metaphysicalFulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-48508417137956658532020-09-13T08:12:00.002-07:002020-09-13T08:17:13.729-07:00Why don’t we talk about the Holy Spirit, and why we don’t feed our souls.<p>It was the chaplain at Shiplake this week who said we don’t talk enough about the third person of the trinity, and a colleague who wouldn’t really identify as a Christian who came out out with his view that we don’t feed our souls.</p><p>This got me thinking: religious folk can often be so busy doing church or trying to be nice to others, that they ignore the ‘still small voice’ . Others, who probably don’t attend church can also be so hard working, so stressed, that they neglect the inner most part of themselves, which is crying out for rest, refreshment, quiet, silence, solitude. Sometimes this leads to a crisis point and they break down, having tried buying new stuff, trying a new sport, drinking more beer, anything but just stopping, putting down the phone, and staring at a nice view. </p><p>The thing is, both secular and religious writers are at last flooding the market with books, podcasts , meditation apps, or mindfulness classes to address this. Mental health is now a top priority in schools and at universities, as young people seem more than ever before to be suffering poor mental health, brought about apparently by too much social media or time spent online. </p><p>So you’d think that the message was getting through at last: that everyone was now making time to slow down, take time out, say no to more commitments, set better boundaries. Looking around, though, I suspect it’s not really a thing yet. Why? Probably because the sheer pace of life lived largely online or with an addictive phone in our hand stops us from making the change.</p><p>While I’m sure it’s true that any form of meditation is beneficial, let’s think more about the first statement..</p><p>Imagine when you breathe in, that you breathe in...The Holy Spirit. Imagine the being, presence and power of God flooding your soul. Like a stream which floods over a parched river bed. In those moments, you sense a deep peace, a calm and love which reminds you of your creator. It doesn’t stop there, though. You may feel emotional, and tears may well up. The Spirit speaks into the depths of your being, and then you realise He is wanting you to surrender long held hurts ,unforgivemess, or fears. He may even bring to mind memories which need to be healed or just laid down. Or He may just want you to know that he loves you. The Holy Spirit, the spirit of Jesus, reminds you of his sacrifice on the cross for your sins, that you are free and forgiven, a beloved child who can sit in His presence.</p><p>It doesn’t end there. It’s not all about having a wacky spiritual experience, or a deep therapy session. And to be honest, it may sometimes just be about breathing slowly and taking time to relax. The second stage is also the outworkimg . When you return to your life, your work, your family. You breathe out. You breathe out love, joy peace, goodness, compassion. I learnt this idea from Brian Heasley’s book about Prayer 24-7 in Ibiza.</p><p>This breathing in and out is what Eugene Peterson calls the ‘unforced rhythm of grace’. Our lives become more fruitful. We still struggle, yet this trellis somehow keeps us grounded. Safe. </p><p>Inevitably this doesn’t happen without a daily habit . A quiet time. It needs time too. And it’s not easy. When we sit down our mind is often racing, thinking, processing. Some days we may get no further than letting the worries go. Most days we need to feed on scripture, chew it, let it sink in : without it we will starve. </p><p>So for a follower of Jesus, a person practising the Way, this is the aim. The soul will be fed with nutritious food, refreshed, rehydrated . All for the purpose of being able to serve more, to be kind, to persevere, to be Christ to others ,or just to have the strength to keep going when things get tough.</p><p>So feed your soul. Put your phone down. Switch it off. Retreat to the ‘eremos’ - wilderness. Jesus did. If you want more on this I recommend reading ‘The Ruthless Elimination Of Hurry’ by John Mark Comer. Keep going for refills. Suck in the fresh air of The Holy Spirit. It will , slowly but surely transform you , making you more like your Saviour. It will draw others to Him, too. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-49732999187709455472018-12-19T00:42:00.001-08:002018-12-19T11:54:00.799-08:00Joseph: To Dad or not to Dad?<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Mary grows a child without the help of a man</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Joseph get upset because he doesn't understand</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Angel comes to Joseph in a powerful dream</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Says "God did this and you're part of his scheme"</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Joseph comes to Mary with his hat in his hand</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Says "forgive me I thought you'd been with some other man"</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">She says "what if I had been - but I wasn't anyway and guess what</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I felt the baby kick today"</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">It was the Prayer 24/7 Advent podcast on Joseph today that got me thinking about how blokes often feel a bit left out in the whole baby birthing thing. You go to antenatal classes, read up about contractions, placentas, breech births and whatnot, paint the nursery, check which outdoor four wheel drive buggy will best cope with the contours of climbing the Lakeland fells, yet when it comes to the birth you realise you’re just a bit part in t</span><span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">he whole story and that actually your wife is a whole lot stronger than you’ll ever be .</span><br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">If your story as a bloke who got married and became a father is a bit like this then pity poor old Joseph. As Bruce Cockburn so aptly puts it Joseph has to deal with the whole ‘</span><span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">she`s been with some other bloke thing’ before he got married then thinks he only has one honourable course of action, or as The King James version so poetically puts it: he was ''minded to put her away privily` suggesting hes was trying to save her from shame and embarrassment - and hoping too he’ll wouldn't</span><span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: roboto, helveticaneue, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> get too much stick from his mates.</span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Mary tells her man to get over it and get on with the job of being the the earthly father to the Messiah. Wow. And just in case that was not enough confirmation God does speak to him in a powerful dream which believe it or not he acts on immediately -as you do. </span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">How many times have you had a dream and just dismissed it? Me too. Joseph though shows proper courage and decisiveness: he marries Mary, stays a virgin until the baby is born, and decides to get properly on board with this harebrained heavenly scheme. Later he sorts the travel arrangements to get his heavily preggers wife to Bethlehem by first century Uber- aka a donkey, probs, and after the whole manger-</span><span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> inn- wise men malarkey gets told in another dream to flee to Egypt, of all places, to prevent his family from being murdered by Herod’s 'gestapo.' So he gets to be a refugee too. And we thought that was just a modern thing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Chaps, (I'm talking to you here) we need to be more Joseph: we are called by God to play our part: in our families, our work, and as men. </span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(60, 64, 67); font-size: 14px;">When things go belly up it may well be God is calling you to an unexpected risky adventure which He is asking you to join in with. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(60, 64, 67); font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(60, 64, 67); font-size: 14px;">And you are not alone. You need to play your part. It means being obedient. It may mean experiencing a few vivid dreams! </span></span><span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">All you have to do is to respond to His call. </span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(60, 64, 67); font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(60, 64, 67); font-size: 14px;">How? First, like the wise men, bow down and accept him as your King.Turn away from your failings and, like the crowds who went out to see John the Baptist in the desert : repent and be baptised. Then ask to be filled with his power- aka The Holy Spirit. You’ll see that Mary and Elizabeth got this bit sorted. Women are often quicker to respond than men sometimes to the Holy Spirit's promptings, for some reason.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And be encouraged.Joseph is a great example of how we are to be as disciples of Jesus.</span><br />
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">So stop faffing about.... and get on with it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qEmI-qJes4U/XBoEaPZeoWI/AAAAAAAAAk4/_flWl4Zpob8VXJa4dS1fgi6Kdu1BqUS5wCLcBGAs/s1600/29D089B2-E178-46E1-84AD-E0948D535DE3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="167" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qEmI-qJes4U/XBoEaPZeoWI/AAAAAAAAAk4/_flWl4Zpob8VXJa4dS1fgi6Kdu1BqUS5wCLcBGAs/s1600/29D089B2-E178-46E1-84AD-E0948D535DE3.jpeg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #3c4043; font-family: "roboto" , "helveticaneue" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-13156429205702960152018-03-18T10:34:00.001-07:002018-04-18T00:55:29.705-07:00 CHEVIOT MOUNTAIN REFUGE HUTS SAVE THE DAY<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RohNJq55Hj0/Wq6hSOK3mVI/AAAAAAAAAjg/VaFUvQjti7UsFP8b1zOmfga4_m2DwnnCQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3534%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qQvHvD_n5po/Wq6hWwhTJ_I/AAAAAAAAAjk/zd-7aJi79Dk1kncaAPrHuaYo1kZDBRTBgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qQvHvD_n5po/Wq6hWwhTJ_I/AAAAAAAAAjk/zd-7aJi79Dk1kncaAPrHuaYo1kZDBRTBgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3539.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The welcome Pod at Byrness: £40, but worth it!</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CHEVIOT MOUNTAIN REFUGE
HUTS SAVE THE DAY<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"> 3rd July 2017,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">430am <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Mountain Refuge Hut, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Auchope Cairn, Cheviot Hills.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Raindrops patter on the
roof as I lie on the hard bench of the hut. Porridge hastily consumed, I haul
on my rucksack and begin the ascent to The Cheviot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">This was to be a typical day for a seasoned PennineWay walker –
but for a novice like me, a tough initiation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j5g2QO-8qfI/Wq6hZap-12I/AAAAAAAAAjo/_JX8lscebwcQ47aTr6BxRyecJmPQDxxbgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-j5g2QO-8qfI/Wq6hZap-12I/AAAAAAAAAjo/_JX8lscebwcQ47aTr6BxRyecJmPQDxxbgCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3538.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking towards Windy Gyle as the mist creeps up the ridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Heading along the ridge, insidious skeins of mist crawl up the
pine wooded valleys. The rain falls harder. Not for me the summit of The Cheviot,
described as a marshy, bleak, ill-defined peak: that would wait for
another day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">At Windy Gyle the world has gone misty and wet: I'm drenched.
Careful navigation keeps me on the ridge as visibility is now just a few
yards. The map shows another refuge hut a few miles distant, and I know I'll
need to dry out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The most northerly section of the Pennine Way is living up to
its billing as I push on over Mozie Law. Occasionally the swirling mist
reveals deep ravines to my left, and then beyond Lamb Hill there it is: a small
squat wooden hut.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I push open the door, step
over the raised lintel into a quiet, dry musty dimness. On the far bench is a
recumbent figure in a sleeping bag. He raises his head and mutters a greeting.
I feel I have intruded. Three hours later the hut is full of a motley bunch of
walkers, grateful like me for shelter from the gale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally I leave the happy,
strange circle of new found friends to begin the route march to Byrness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Outside the weather is still atrocious. The wind batters the left
side of my hood as I head for the Roman Camp at Chew Green. Hunkering down I
chew my stale roll, then head on for Byrness Crag. On my right
forbidding MOD signs tell me 'DANGER OF DEATH. In these conditions it'll be
hypothermia, not bombs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grey clouds part
briefly and I catch a glimpse of a dam and reservoir, then I'm negotiating a tricky
descent to a wickedly slippery, muddy path which takes me through the
plantation until I meet the busy A68. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Without those strategically placed Mountain Refuge Huts, with
essential supplies left by thoughtful walkers, my journey over the Cheviots
might well have come to a premature end.<o:p></o:p></span><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RohNJq55Hj0/Wq6hSOK3mVI/AAAAAAAAAjg/VaFUvQjti7UsFP8b1zOmfga4_m2DwnnCQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_3534%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RohNJq55Hj0/Wq6hSOK3mVI/AAAAAAAAAjg/VaFUvQjti7UsFP8b1zOmfga4_m2DwnnCQCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_3534%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-24847041110558172142017-11-25T09:58:00.002-08:002017-11-25T10:04:40.350-08:00 Sassoon,Passchaendaele and Sacrifice: Remembrance Sermon 12/11/17<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Remembrance Sermon on the theme of Sacrifice:12<sup>th</sup>
November 2017. St John’s Whitchurch Hill<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">John 15:13<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: red; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Greater love hath no man
than this, than a man lay down his life for his friends</span></b><b><span style="background: white; color: red; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: red; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Squire nagged and bullied
till I went to fight, </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">(Under Lord Derby’s Scheme). I died in
hell— </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">(They called it Passchendaele). My wound was
slight, </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And I was hobbling back; and then a shell </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Burst slick upon the duck-boards: so I
fell </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Into the bottomless mud, and lost the
light. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">At sermon-time, while Squire is in his
pew, </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare: </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">For, though low down upon the list, I’m
there; </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">‘In proud and glorious memory’ ... that’s my
due.</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Two bleeding years I fought in France, for
Squire: </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">I suffered anguish that he’s never
guessed. </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Once I came home on leave: and then went
west... </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">What greater glory could a man desire? </span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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At Remembrance the word sacrifice is used frequently. We
think of young men willingly, selflessly and heroically giving up their lives
for our freedom. We think of the sacrifice made by families, villages,
communities. Virtually no place or person in Britain was left untouched by the
dreadful losses on the western front in ww1, and in each city, town, village
across the land today, and later on the hill at our renewed, refurbished
memorial we will honour their sacrifice, often beneath the ultimate symbol of a
sacrifice made 2000 years ago; a cross.<br />
<br />
This is a solemn season, and as the
years pass, perhaps especially because of the recent centenary commemorations
for ww1, - the sheer scale of the sacrifice is hard to absorb. For me visiting
the battlefield cemeteries or the
memorials at key places in France: , Beaumont Hamel, Thiepval, the Menin Gate,
Vimy Ridge began to unveil the horror and suffering experienced, the courage,
the innate sense of duty. Film footage of the Somme I showed recently shows
marching, cheerful British soldiers tramping up dusty roads to the front, waving
rifles, hats and shovels. Men who, at the blowing of whistles, would leave
their trenches, and be mowed down by machine gun fire or shell shrapnel in ther
hundreds, many whose bodies would never be recovered.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
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100 years ago this week the third battle of Ypres also known
as Passchendaele, finally ended. The offensive, which began in July, came to
symbolise the horrors of ww1 and trench warfare. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fought between July and November 1917, Passchendaele, also
known as the Third Battle of Ypres, remains one of the most notorious battles
of the First World War. In three-and-a-half months of fighting, an advance of
less than five miles saw an estimated 550,000 Allied and German troops killed,
wounded or lost.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Around 90,000 British and Commonwealth soldiers were
missing; 50,000 buried without being identified, and 42,000 never recovered
from the Belgian fields of Flanders that turned into an ocean of mud.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was an offensive launched by General Haig despite Lloyd
George the prime minister disapproving of it. Torrential rain in July and
intensive shelling which destroyed the drainage system of the Flanders fields,
created impossible conditions to fight in. men and horses drowned in shell
holes filled with water and mud, tanks were bogged down. <o:p></o:p></div>
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At the end of October, the village of Passchendaele was
finally taken. Nothing remained of it. It did not exist except as a point on a
map.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In hindsight, some say the attritional battle, despite his
horrendous casualties and conditions did, deplete the Germans at a key time
when the French army were severely weakened and Russia too was in the throes of
its revolution. Some say to sowed the seeds for the armistice a year later in
1918<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sassoon’s poem
Memorial Tablet, read by David earlier is set in Passchendaele- a dead soldier speaks of
his end and with bitter irony describes
his death, drowning in mud after returning from the front line with a slight wound. Set in a village church the ghost of the dead
soldier blames the Squire’s persuasion. He questions the purpose of death and
his own memorial. For the dead soldier, there is a bitter resentment- that his sacrifice
was unnecessary, that he was coerced, and the manner of his death only
exacerbates this- drowning in the mud.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sassoon called the
Menin Gate memorial a ‘sepulchre of crime’ after the war- his message of
protest helps us to question the point of sacrificing your life for your
country. Kipling echoes this sense of being betrayed by your country ‘If any
questions why we died, tell them because our fathers lied. Not all who fought
had a high view of Britain’s cause, although most did see it simply as their
duty to defend their nation. The battle of Passchendaele, perhaps even more
than the Somme the previous year gave rise to protests about the war and its
purpose. Siegfried Sassoon who had won the MC on the Somme and was known as mad
Jack for his heroic single handed taking of a German trench made a public protest
in The Times, sacrificing his military reputation and career, then was sent off
to military shell shock hospital in Edinburgh (where he met Wilfred Owen)
because of his public protest In The Times. Those fighting genuinely sometimes
could not see what purpose it was serving.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The famous playwright, R.C Sherriff, wrote the play
Journey’s End in 1928. When ti was staged in 1929, it became a huge success
which was strange as the post war generation seemed to want to forget the
horrors of war. It’s winsome, elegiac, mood captures perfectly the heroism,
comradeship of British officers in a dugout in March 1918, waiting for e huge German
attack, which, ironically led to its surrender. A young idealistic intelligent,
ex public school 18 year old – Lt Raleigh has just joined his hero’s company, and is being
helped to settle in by the veteran Lt
Osborne, an older grey haired
schoolmaster. In this exchange, Sherriff like Sassoon, goes to the heart of why
war seems so futile and utterly pointless . <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i><u>Journey’s End extract: Raleigh/Osborne<o:p></o:p></u></i></b></div>
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<b><i><u><br /></u></i></b></div>
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<b><i>R: The Germans are really quite decent
aren’t they, I mean, outside of the newspapers?<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i> O:Yes. I remember once when we w
ere up Wipers way one of our men got shot when we were out on patrol and we
couldn’t get him in that night, and he lay there groaning all the next day.
That night , three of our chaps crawled out to bring him back. It was so near
the German lines the germans could have picked them off one by one. But as soon
as our chaps began dragging him back over the ground a big German officer stood
up n theor trenches and shouted ‘ Carry him’, and our fellows picked him up and
carried him- and the German officer fired off some lights for them to see by.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i>R: How topping.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i>O: Next day we blew each other’s trenches to blazes.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i>R; It all seems rather silly, doesn’t it?<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i>O: Yes it does, rather.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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Later on in the play Osborne and Raleigh make a raid on the
opposite trench, despite Captain Stanhope’s pleas to the colonel that it will
be suicide and serve no purpose. Osborne is killed , along with most of the men
who go with them Raleigh returns with a German prisoner. Again the sacrifice
seems unnecessary. The play’s tragic climax leaves the audience with the gut
wrenching question: was the sacrifice of
so many gallant young men too high a cost and unnecessary.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yet on the battlefield, as in so many other theatres of war,
we can read stories of supreme sacrifice, compassion and selflessness, often by
those who had a deep Christian faith. In Flanders the famous army padre the
Revd Geoffrey Studdart Kennedy, also known as Woodbine Willie becasie he gave men
cigarettes, risked his life repeatedly in June 1917 on the Messines Ridge to
rescue wounded men from no man’s land. When challenged by a soldier as he
approached the edge of a trench where they were repairing the barbed wire, he
gave his asked who he was he replied’
The Church’. To the following question what was the church doing in no mans’s
land he said ‘its job’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Captain Noel Chavasse
, the only man to win the VC twice, the 2<sup>nd</sup> time posthumously, made often reckless forays to save wounded
men. His luck ran out at Passchendaele when finally he suffered several
splinter and shrapnel; wounds whilst treating wounded at a dressing station,
refusing to be treated until he had seen to those in his care. It was this that
led to his death in a hospital in France. Both these men were inspired and
motivated by their deep Christian faith.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The recent film Hacksaw Ridge too tells of Desmond
Doss, a Us medic and conscientious objector who finally won the respect of his platoon
and its commander for his heroism in tending to 75 wounded men at the battle of
OKINAWA in 1945, lowering them down to safety off the cliff where they could be
taken to safety.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This morning, my friend and colleague, James Arney, who was
in the Ghurkas, will share his experiences at the remembrance service at
Shiplake College of the fighting in Afghanistan, and mention that whilst for
him it was his job and he could cope with the dangers, his family often
suffered immensely waiting at home for news
that he was safe.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">One
mother, Amy Beechey , lost five sons during
the First World War. Her sacrifice as a mother was great; five sons killed and
a sixth disabled for life. However, despite her great pride in her sons she was
a reluctant heroine. On receiving an honour from Queen Mary, She said ‘It was
no sacrifice Ma’am, I did not give them willingly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Woodbine
Willie, Noel Chavasse and Desmond Doss, are just some of the many who were
prepared to risk their own lives, to sacrifice their own safety for others.
Each of them took their inspiration and found their courage from the Lord Jesus
Christ, who in John 15 says Greater love hath no one than this than a man lay
down his life for his friends. On every war memorial stands a cross. Jesus knew
exactly that he had to lay down his life to save us, not simply from our sins,
but one day to bring an end to war and sin. His was the ultimate sacrifice, he
took our place and paid the penalty for sin that we might be set free and at
peace with God.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Yet
Christ himself warned his disciples there would be wars, and rumours of wars,
as we heard last week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> As we stand in silence later on Whitchurch
hill, we are reminded that the human
race is still caught up in conflict- let’s resolve to be courageous lives of sacrificial love, in a world which is
war torn and in desperate need of peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Our
readings today remind us of the promise that Christ will return to establish a
reign of peace, to judge, and people will ‘study war no more’. By living lives
of sacrificial love, we can hasten that day, a certain hope, made possible by
Jesus’s death on the cross- which initially looked like failure, but with his
resurrection he defeated death, won the victory and now gives us the hope of
glory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">And
he has fully equipped us to serve him to pick up our cross daily, to deny
ourselves, if we follow his orders, we will not stand with him on that day, but
others who we have helped enlist in his service will be there with us, worshipping
the Lamb who was slain for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Amen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-1706676171388047192016-12-21T10:28:00.002-08:002018-12-19T11:22:45.145-08:00Credo Pater Christus- An O Antiphon, not.<img height="197" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/b/b9/I_Believe_in_Father_Christmas.jpg/220px-I_Believe_in_Father_Christmas.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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<span style="background-color: whitesmoke; color: #616161; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i><b>They said there'll be snow at Christmas</b></i></span><br />
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<i style="color: #616161; font-weight: bold;">They said there'll be peace on earth</i><br />
<i style="color: #616161; font-weight: bold;">But instead it just kept on raining</i><br />
<i style="color: #616161; font-weight: bold;">A veil of tears for the virgin birth</i></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">So, farewell Greg Lake. ELP was a passing progressive rock phase of mine at boarding school. Only two songs really touched my teenage radar, Fanfare for the Common Man, and that epic classic: Brain Salad Surgery, played at maximum volume on a Sanyo radio/cassette recorder during break time or after rugger.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Greg Lake's Christmas song- In D major which is pretty standard- was always overshadowed by others, and to be honest, not one I knew well until recently. Yet unlike some, it bravely asks the right questions as Advent draws to a close, with its honest Zechariah like doubts, or John the Baptist style disappointments: <i>Are you the One we've been expecting or are we still waiting?</i> (The Message.)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Greg Lake's lyrics speak of a childhood excitement and expectation dashed. The ephemeral paraphernalia of Christmas finally implodes, 'that Christmas tree smell', and unfortunately, so does his belief in 'the Israelite'.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">My favourite enigmatic line, 'a veil of tears for the virgin birth' presages this implosion, hinting at a coming sadness, and it is true that far from 'peace on earth' Jesus'arrival precipitated the slaughter of many infants, and the flight of the holy family into Egypt as refugees.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">Greg Lake's winsome, wry, lyrics reflect the views of many sceptics and others today who feel that it's all just a myth. A virgin birth? Angels in the sky? A Saviour? Peace on earth? Really?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"> As Advent draws to a close and we sit in the dark on the shortest day, surely we have to point not just to the babe lying in the manger, but on to the cross, resurrection, ascension and most important of all, to His coming in glory- an event which many Christians seem to leave on the backburner, avoiding the uncomfortable truth that Advent is really about waiting for the parousia. Even when we read the prophecies in Isaiah we may carefully expunge the difficult bits about judgement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">You may well have many 'Greg Lakes' through your church doors this Christmas, who will look at the crib, the candles, the carols and see it all as a childish escapism, a nice myth which like their childhood belief in Father Christmas, at some point evaporated. yet the tendrils of hope are still there, and it is up to us to reawaken their hope in a loving Saviour, and a God of Justice.</span></span></div>
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<i><b><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , "noto sans japanese" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Hallelujah, Noel be it heaven or hell</span></span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="font-size: 15px;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Christmas we get we deserve</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span></span></b></i></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A strange, ambiguous ending isn't it? Surely this cannot be- many do not deserve what they get at Christmas. Yet surely everyone deserves the free gift of eternal life, and to know the promise in Isaiah 11 v9 that one day ' The whole earth will be brimming with knowing God alive, a living knowledge of God ocean-deep, ocean wide'.</span></div>
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<img src="https://americansongwriter.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/greg-lake_2419150b.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sleep in peace this Christmas Greg Lake. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We trust that you met with the Prince of Peace, born of a virgin, and that now there is no 'veil of tears'. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-68392159403898443572016-05-20T11:08:00.002-07:002016-05-21T10:23:41.786-07:00The Truth is Out There-X Files, Paraclete, and Perichoresis<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">John 16:12-15 </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"> (NRSV)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><b><sup><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">12 </span></sup></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I still have many things to say to
you, but you cannot bear them now.</span><b><sup><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">13 </span></sup></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you
into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever
he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. </span><b><sup><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">14 </span></sup></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">He will glorify me, because he will take what is
mine and declare it to you. </span><b><sup><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">15 </span></sup></b></i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I
said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <b>The Spirit teaches us the truth about
Jesus- so how do we live by the Spirit of Truth?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I was never a fan of the x Files- a
1990’s sci fi horror blockbuster starting Gillian Anderson-Scully and David
Duchovny as the oddly named Mulder, but it was enormously popular with my pupils at the time, and
it did have the best tag line: THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE.. Mulder and Scully would
have to do everything in their power to discover the sometimes gory, unpalatable
truth about the existence of aliens as they take on marginalized, unsolved
cases. Interestingly, Mulder is a believer in their existence, but Scully, a
medical doctor, is not. This makes for an amusing chemistry between the two, as
she uses science to try and debunk the theories and make Mulder return to
normal cases. Inevitably the programme’s appeal lies in the steady build up of
suspense as they hunt werewolves, aliens, ufos.. you name it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">It is true as the psalmist says that, the wonders of God, or the truth, is written in the stars,
in the origins of the universe, but Jesus in today’s gospel in verse 13 says
something really quite extraordinary. He says the Truth, the Spirit of Truth,
is not just way beyond them, ‘out there’, it is right next to, and indeed,
inside them!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Not only that, but He, the Holy Spirit,
will lead them into all Truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He has already said earlier in chapter 14 that
he is the way the TRUTH and the life. The word Jesus is using here means
ADVOCATE, literally one who is called alongside, an emissary. Another Greek
word used is ‘paraclete, a counsellor or adviser. The Hebrew word for Spirit in
the Old Testament is RUACH – breath of God, and is hovering over the face of
the waters in Genesis and acting at other key moments in individuals in
Israel’s history. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Just before these verses too Jesus has
highlighted a key role of the spirit- convicting the world of guilt in regard
to sin and righteousness. Now he wants to speak of how the Spirit will speak
into their lives, revealing who Jesus is.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> After the feast of Pentecost, the Church of
England has Trinity Sunday- and the chosen gospel Jesus speaks of the Father
and the spirit- a Trinitarian passage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Tradition has it, it seems, that clergy often
offload their preaching duties on this Sunday, as to explain the trinity is
virtually impossible. When I told the chaplain at Shiplake I was not really
going to try, he called me a coward. Yet Jesus here speaks of the Father and
the Spirit as being in intimate relationship with him-evidence that he saw
himself in what Jurgen Moltmann says is ‘perichoresis’, a dance where each
plays a key role. In fact it is clear here that the Spirit’s role is to point
to who Jesus is and what he has done, to ‘glorify’ him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Yet verse 12 begins with ominous words. Jesus
says ‘I still have many things to say to you, more than you can bear. Throughout
his ministry, the disciples have been struggling to grasp who Jesus is, and now
they are about to undergo the most difficult moment of their lives with him,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The disciples’ have just shared the
last supper with Jesus, they may well be now in the Garden of Gethsemane, they
are anxious about who may betray him, why Jesus washed their feet, and feel rather
confused. Jesus has already tried to tell them of his impending death, but they
just didn’t get it. Now he is trying to reassure them that they will receive a
wonderful gift, the Holy Spirit, who will help them make sense of his death and
resurrection. This is the truth the Spirit will lead them into- what is yet to
come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jesus needs to tell his disciples about
the fact he is the Messiah, the saviour, and that He will be with them even
after he has ascended to heaven<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><sup><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">14 </span></sup></i></b><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">He will glorify me,
because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. </span></i><b><i><sup><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">15 </span></sup></i></b><i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">All that the Father
has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare
it to you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">ere
the</span>What does the advocate do? Convicts them and us of the believability and reliability of the gospel
and that it is reliable- it point us to Jesus. </span><u><span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s easy to look around us and wonder why if we have the Spirit of Truth there are so many different denominations , and why Christians seem
to disagree on what the Bible has to say on some issues, interpreting it in
different ways. Yet on the crucial debate over Jesus: his divinity, his atoning
sacrifice and the Trinitarian nature of God we need to be one in the Spirit, united.</span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
don’t know if you saw the live streamed bible study live from Lambeth Palace
last Thursday on John’s gospel with Justin Welby. I watched it on Facebook, as
he and Chris Russell, the adviser on evangelism at Lambeth Palace looked at
John’s account of the disciples following Jesus/ Chris’ prayer at the start
invites the Holy Spirit to speak through the passage, so that they may obey it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Spirit of Truth helps us to know
the truth of the scriptures as we study it together and as we read it
devotionally. It is the rhema of God, living breathing, not just dry words. David
Watson, the great evangelist who died in the 1980’s famously said:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <b><u>All WORD- DRY UP. ALL SPIRIT, BLOW UP, WORD
AND SPIRIT GROW UP</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Have you had occasions when God’s spirit has spoken clearly into your
own situation? I remember when I was wondering whether we should move to
Shiplake averse kept pinging into my head ‘you did not choose me but I chose
you’. I knew it was from John’s gospel, but I had to look it up, and I knew
that even if I didn’t really want to leave our home in Eastbourne, it was what
God was calling us to do. That verse comes in chapter 15 where Jesus talks
about being the vine, and that if we want to be fruitful, we need pruning. Wave
of prayer – Jeanette on prayer walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Nor is the Spirit necessarily for just a
gooey Pentecostal, wacky experience :Romans
5 1- 5, which is the epistle set for today says that God’s love has been poured
in to our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who he has given us. Sometimes the word
Comforter is used in translations of the word Spirit- but the original meaning
is far from having a nice warm protective feeling inside. Apparently in the
Bayeux Tapestry there is the phrase King Harold comforts his soldiers- the
image is of him prodding them with a sword, to encourage and rally them! The
Spirit of Truth is not always a gentle dove, a literal comfort, sometimes he
prods us, convicts us of the truth about ourselves we’d rather not confront.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Last
week Claire, preaching on Pentecost , talked of our lives being like a house
with many rooms-some are open, and Jesus can walk freely around- but some are
shut, dusty, and dark, bolted. If we are to be effective for Jesus, he needs to
come in and spring clean areas of our lives, take over. That can be painful-
yet essential if we are to grow. Paul writing to the Galatians, exhorts them to
bear fruit that comes from letting the spirit of truth change them from the
inside out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
early church, filled with the spirit at Pentecost, turned the ancient world
upside down. They received the gifts of the spirit, and used them to serve each
other and the church experienced explosive growth- and persecution too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">We
have just had the #thykingdomcome wave of prayer week for the re evangelisation
of the Uk and my twitter feed has been awash with all the activities churches
have been doing as they prayed for their communities. Back in 1949 two old
ladies in the Hebrides prayed fervently for God to bring revival in their
isolated islands- no young people attended church, and they petitioned God for
the appalling state of the parish. They prayed incessantly, often late intot he
night, on their knees. 6 weeks later, an extraordinary revival took place, you
can read the transcript of Duncan Campbell’s story of the amazing wonders and
renewal that took place as The Spirit swept in. On a recent prayer walk in
Whitchurch, one of our team felt strongly she should stop and knock on the door
of a family. It brought laughter and encouragement to the gentleman recovering
from bowel cancer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">So the <u>truth is out there:</u>
Mulder and Scully may apparently return in a new series too, but the Truth, the
advocate, the Spirit resides in us who call ourselves followers of Jesus. If we
wait on God each day, asking to be filled with the Spirit of Truth, then we
should expect him to overflow in our conversations, our work, our thoughts – we
will become naturally supernatural, and others we meet who are not Christians
will be touched by the Spirit of Truth- the breath of God, the Lord Jesus who is in us, alongside
us, prompting us to act and speak for him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-22622874877656932972016-01-17T06:29:00.006-08:002016-01-18T03:00:51.355-08:00Accidents on Hills, Up the Hill Backwards, Hills without Snow and the Hill Difficulty.<br />
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<a href="http://www.sportivescene.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/28072011862.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.sportivescene.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/28072011862.jpg" height="168" width="200" /></a></div>
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Sometimes things don't go like you visualised.<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
Streatley Hill was one of them. Yesterday afternoon, descending on my velocipede at a stately 46 mph, I was aware that my brakes were not working well, that my alignment on the gentle right curve was wrong, and that I was gradually ( I use that term relatively) drifting to the muddy left edge. Hoping against hope that I could prevent this, I slowed more, but the inevitable occurred. The wheels slid, handlebars jarred and the bike twisted underneath me. I slid inelegantly onto unforgiving tarmac. Thankfully my many layers prevented skin injury. The bike was remarkably unscathed, and so, mercifully was I. No cars were following which was a mercy.<br />
<br />
It's important, after sweet cups of tea, chocolate and sympathy, to reflect on moments of drama like this. Why did I feel I had to go down this monster of a hill without braking? Am I naturally a risk taker? How did I not know my disc brakes could have been in better condition? Yet I had many layers on which saved layers of skin being removed, and a helmet. Perhaps it was just a miscalculation. Yet my nerve for descending rapidly has, temporarily, deserted me.<br />
<br />
I like hills. Climbing them especially. Sometimes backwards. And it's not always about the view from the top. It's a necessity. At my boarding school I was in HILL house. to go to bed the lucky inmates of the gloriously named 'Combe Grange'- an imposing, beautiful Georgian edifice high above the Monkton Valley- faced a vertiginous one kilometre climb up Hill Drung, a narrow tarmacked path between fields, with white, horizontal kerb stones at intervals, presumably placed there to assist the down flow of rain and to remind the weary teenagers to watch their step.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/4/48/Bowieuphill.jpg/220px-Bowieuphill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/4/48/Bowieuphill.jpg/220px-Bowieuphill.jpg" width="186" /></a><br />
On a fine mild Autumn evening in 1980, I had been listening to the new Bowie album. Everyone was listening Ashes to Ashes, the recent number one single, but, well, I rather liked the song Up the Hill Backwards. I had reached that age where lots of things had to be tried out. Music often inspired my often eccentric endeavours. It was abut 930pm and this lyric was spinning in my brain:<br />
<br />
<i><b>THE VACUUM CREATED BY THE ARRIVAL OF FREEDOM</b></i><br />
<i><b>AND THE POSSIBILITIES IT SEEMS TO OFFER</b></i><br />
<br />
So at the foot of the drung I turned around and proceeded to ascend the hill to Hill House.<br />
<br />
Backwards.<br />
<br />
It might have been the same evening I threw all my folders and books out of the study window in a fit of silliness.<br />
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BR1d6VcvwVTfONKJHGEDr2FeXxbCupoNSYbe48OfAAjDnu6AxxRNcW+05rkFsN46JFBCJNXfi7+MwtUaAQA9K+NTXnxc5faNdBCC/dyprqlNccTDS/Gta3q41Ww7OghoJOpBNO1vHU/ZHy8APEz3ZhqDMgfV0TnnD+u/ucio+2oa6DKIZhPE1qWVvq4apHwjila1YuWCt5WQGo4coYWErU1DdGhSSe865wogAR9ci9nX1LwoZs4q1i6aAqqPZAH2hwpA0KWJhBFSCWyc1oPCLFjNxdTfJFciA7F9DhBMOtJuukkNUd9L3jlHmbmHWmfoZZ9quCkMliCxOOLjDl84Psu0AFi8LznB7rccKtEH5uUQVhJcLUcMWoQO8AjgecX12IKQFkhKmYgto7CLynzgTTQmigS3ccxiRGq2AkCW96uh+FYy9glhgWwYF/dGm2Dat03QSQ+NBTU4OWjL56n0isWgm2dzRYw+c4fZ5ZHH5AiiLQGypWig1XNKVxi1YZ1apIfDD1julaVdSgmZLq1SacA+cQTTnwixLmfSp0CFk69kwLmqU26AQASrVsA37RHcTGt8TGT6VWu4UgGoJFeCZaW8QYASra9e0M8vI/CNB0t2Cucb0opFxc1wT7Sg6vKBmzdiSiEGYta2/0yGBYPVi4GGkZ58ZWOU7DNpzdxkoSkYtia8eTQT6KbIFolkKJQkXnUA9Bd+BPeMIvbQ2ZJvEhC3oE+yk4AOCRTxpGis9kTIDSiUD7LChNcBC+fi8IxEnYiVFUoTPpBNMsXgAkJDAzFkVSHIZ+WMH9i7G6mSUFcorK3P0rBQyc9WSlgMquTWLa7Kl1qAJKiCSDdJIYu7YvrDp2zLqwJboBloJolRqDmoVxNY01pWkh2aDeeaiuJ6wF/sqBlsoYbynML82h/0qKpbtg3Ro5lutONDSuEQpsNoAcqw+zL+CYdIsc9Ra837Es/0wuauKRGzGIN+Xu0AvpFNUqubnIBvEw0bJIYCZLIFe0gV4Ju0NBVzyiQbNtHtV/wDGj+2OzNl2gYLfX6NHpB+SDjUZ2WWNZe8XIvoLVJq438caRz81rN4vLJIb9JLrQYkjybLGHjZ1oc7wb/xJ9I4iwWjUfuhC/JBxrn5pW47FAwN+VX7ID7o41hn5qmABgjGn0knd7nDnCtPhDlWWddvBSCMvowO6IjKne1K+4BB+Qca5M2ZMZW6C5cDrZFTqo3sOEI7LW53QxFTfkAngN/d/ARwS5xLPK70j4Q9MmdncLaIH9wg/JBxpidmzaG4AcGvyN0fvMW58ocdmzKtL7PZ3pO8dT9JXyjokT2dpX3PRcdEucO0iX9z/AJwcy40w7NW7dWSkhyb0mppullv5ZYxw7Nmkfoy6iyqyt0cN+n8UOCZpZkSmOG4f/ZHQmdnLlfcV/wCyHzg40w7MmhyJVRRI+jbmB1mPEtyhw2XMoDLoA7tLqftb+8e4c4Sut9iT91f/ALISxNBbq5OD9lfwWYOcHGuI2OtQdSWJxcIf4+8woiVMmj/RlH7/APdCh8hxrG7MtSL3WKTdWN07zvTQ4aYQVX7aTewIrgKPQ/NIyaJAulVSQ3e6mBHzrGl2JYpk4KlpQpakMpks4qAw15COT6/HldxmupSbrJCK0r8Rm9YG2u1JSoy05gEkigwcAHJ3i0qTPkrKJqFpClEpUpJSXfN2pzgftizpUsKCiVKxBVg3svjGWGGstZGLbOn3ixq2Yzb3ZRqdhyglKiGd+ODGoA8Pkxj9mKAW4DAY1OmP+Y1ez5xKFAOHSQK4cWArE4ST6Hisz7cQNxN5SQE9gguBr8/GLNmtuAYFhqzYYuHjPqsS0qAUoqBNFB3yoQcQwFRhWLKbOAuiAMKjMg/jHoSL20tmmOVnSWac3DvpESl/RzGrupA73P8ASPGOSMZjZS0iv6yX+MVZhF5+Ddzj58Iu/pKuuYVKYVJKjzN5VIGbRQpKyWKBdZ3Z3INPOK1jthM1RSrF30xibaM1St4l1DjjEXC95RFl9TWyaFKTqDBO2LjI2W0vNSCcThGltkyHhnym1S7iSzyQpJJZr1e4DUwXtshlywGpJlimHZGEB7KtNxypheObYFvGNLPBvsGoiWKnRCeHGH7tSkcDXLX8YnsKBeNQaeHnEibKcyHLmj68YksQ3u704RllK0mtJbkK5ATpVY6oWGdTg09lv7jAQy1D/ETPndFctNtdhyUxhVrWMzGw2PZ7spINTi5rjXPnCuFkEy2pWawMyyUC9Woc10L4x02JSkhTJFXOrP8AOcXrMuUlI+jDkB2STj+zjFZapImE3TUBjcUBerqKZcIr9hRlyxU8TEgliK20rzFSXSxDscXfHGB6bVN9pXl6RGOFs20yzko51UcMlWhgKq1zB9ZXl/bFnZq5i3Uom6ygBTtC7mAMjDuFTzi6E8IdcipbZ0xKQQSKsW4h8+RiobXM9ryHpBMbeyuUEzKrHVyRpAhVumCrj7sWtnTpiyb927ddLAgkgkHM6QcacyiX8lOQpCi6G1Pz3RyNJYnVeKbOn1AJ7jgRg3nGy2BLdE3dcKmyEtiGKlkvwYRhbGXmo5iNvsi2KlJUUhBZlgKQFB03mIJDpZ8iI0mpdsLNxsNpyUplkBZImpta5gUTdQQEzpZu5BJQhs/pKHeEeXflClF+yrmSCCMnOGFIJL6VzJqFyTLly+sa+pBmORu0CVrUADclu3sJGFIFSwoLYvi76fhEfay3aZNCks3WwOoY041jV7KUkoYne7m5Y1FDAGxybxSVdx1poWHKCs+ZLQoHCtVYAUDBgQK1rHBL3tUF50tmcYHEZ0NPxh2zgZhcIUQlQcgjT7ShpFJG0AaKoHLHHjXjhBfo/MSy2oSSal8mpHX8vpvqnK7IL9a7/V54u38MDNt2i6nd7TjDPD0i4i0MFk6pD9yj8YzO0bWFKbKOjPpSnIBBLDExLNmLbCIpc0vhF9MwECkHzytnZBEmzKooUU96tMILTLRMUME1Hc3jDJ8kKDEOIhC2peJaMs8c53E6yngrYdoFCAlQftPU/WLjCNtaZ4TOmOCGarEhglIxA5x56lTkDVhpjlG4mqRMtNoluUrvFiDiCACWIalPGD5ZW72MLbe1g21L8Pn8IfZKMWNR6cYG2iUpBahGR19DBKTgIed6bYxPtGzhaJfAr/p9Ipq2YNBBhISUoBUAQCahWZIyB0MPMpPtp/i/tjXD+sZ5esxbNmhsIMJLU0Cf5REtrs6WO+j+L+2I3Dli4YMdaRH2/qrD0JVOWAAoMeCVZNEc63FQoHqHd6YHTGC05DqS4dgo4/qwMwv8y3DTHhGU16vtyyoExMwcU/GF+beEXNggrMwAPROFczBf8jV7Cvun0jb5T+LP6X+TL2jZ1DHbBJuyUj7S/wCiNBaLGpjuK+6fSBdpSUIQCGJUqhDezDynRY+mrst6WR9oe5UQnZ0E9lJKgqhNRx9qLipDYgwYT+IyvbLWqwbscMu7Klfqr/8A0MHbbK3TAu3Bpcnkv+cQZzqnh6rowhRGk0hRhttp4/Y5O8gvn8DGus1wWWeVO4SfAJ4RndnJZwQxEG51LJOP2T7gI132wZqwC+eVPx4PF6zWdiFEXUnF3IrrpzgVYLQygTQagO3c4fxjUWbaUspYzkCoxlqBoXwrBl8rU6WVyRKCVBwwc1d68Yh2jaLyUlKiFAgC6gihxvMMBphBSWkLAS5rkXy92EWDYEoSXWDmB8D4xjMP+lyBdltwG6ouSQ70Z6mlBio5RotmrCVDQuMq0LGAVoQgIBauJGtDVoKbLUGCnLXTg58cfGI/HZlLC0fbbYEyl6ldHoxuRnkuXLEEnjFm1zr4d3F8lyBWg8sYksksq0GlI69bCORYwRiX5RamyLoqaDBkv5vFmTY1D63z4xYVLLVPlFyaAIu00ohXO8B5N8YqKtMxPZSBxcOPJhF+dYgHdfKn4xRnsAAN5ya4Ac3PCMvp0L4sbFtBM2WlRqZiBhiCpOJgr0iWTaphBIN9VRwU0CNhJJtdnH/el97LEENqzvppiqE3lN946wYzUEknijL2hMF031BjSrt4xesm0J15jMVUZ8c/nWBa7Uks4zDtngMoLyJYvBVQoGtaUDe6Gps9nXzZpJJJP0jnVpqwPdE5v6xLsmW9mkfqr85i4umRFooFayvWCV26/Ae4Q22yqGH2hTKV3xn9fFYeqygpTEKYgFiCzuzvuwJ65YvpWpJU4BoxOFaFvCJiJoRRRFMLwLcgUeTxybIFwG8sqJSS6WB4ks/dENDtmqICiBV0jxvekXE2xWkR7HkUmc0e5cXhJjT5/wBWP0v8lSbb1Nn4xTtUxV1Cn7RONWZhTTAQSnSaQO2mGlSua/eIeXgwvaxs20FIJBcuKCmpeL42krVX3j6wM2KLz93djBXqIePh5eq0/a0xqKX94+sDLdPUQhSyVPeIJJJxAavLzglaZNO6KNvl/RyRwX/NCy8p4+qSZsKIwiFGGmzz2VJqCO/55xd2mtrFMGreagIqWRJwNeMWdrH/AKUgYkgafWxpyjWesayEmWTgCe4xbkWZbp3FkOH3Tg9covSZVBctSHzCgzd7GLgs1rI3J0tXBMxA97Rr2XTSflgUHDJBFMnJyiBalLoWCTmKkggnOgI74ZY9nTriL0s3h2j2nLYkh3iLZ9jnJVemXqBhfSQwbQjXPhGdikiLJUXTjiMWYAV0174tWjaCJICLpUlQIxZsKkxyzzUJKi4xFNMAKRUA6xZU6SPZONHrwqYjZf8Ai3KsTFJTcb2SpxhqKuMccouWa+kkdUg50UaZNXHOI7EToGPiPEQSS0a4zo6i61WcojkoQ2ZNADkKGtAW8FROecVLarcNcotKjbLWg0xwL3SfEFvjAybML0BAf2ce54sFLVvAvzfvpEK1tXH3Rj9J1ullr2ruw0oRaZK2IuqfhuueL4R20LvKWUnEKNNHgQu2P2MebNygpsRJUG0Sc+LRGGW+iwy2qzpN1CSKFw7HLN8mgxYbOAxYafPCKW1QApI5d7QdscoFCYtou7J6RrloSgqTdSGDoTzaoc1eDkjpOcxLP7LebgR5n9LeN1SSL6t1aXAqzPnHV2MuTcQcTuEundDsFEUarZ+UXyLT1A7cSob0pLaj0r74HTreFuUnFyH48I80RakpUyetGYdVSW9kkvyix+flIb6RKnNHDAd95++sLLWXonT0hklP6JbaXh5b8U/ydbpASrtNVQKWBLA10aA2zOkoWbhUysgWY8jmeEErbPUUEoKQsVF4U7wDh4RFxqttJsmyBN6/uuzZ4XtOcX1SpY+t5R5sNu21LqEqzkcUrH9cVlbbtajWXJS5oAVD3u8VLJE3HfdemzLNLVhM8vxgPtSy0QhLra8aDU6CMaja9qS/0UssPbI87pixZuk88FjZg/8A5v8AhBct9CY67jW9H7MAVhRu4M4bWDibMg/XHz3x5nO6ZzQN6zKCgKkTX+AOUUR0tWo/oZv3h8TDl1BcdvVJ+zgRRaYC29ATcSSCwVhz4xi7P0qWziXNb9YHuxhS+mmJ6mfSh7Ph2oLls5jpqDLEKBEnpqkpB6if33f7oUTpW2INFnFuPpC2wv6GXxmJ/qMOtSSGYi6/HjV38og2t+jkj/uD+VUTgis3PBvq5n3wnjs5O8r9Y++Gx0Ja3ZmzwpF51AhCcFEVIcnGCNlRMABTaJ4qMFvmKsYp7JtF1CgR7IFeAH4xOqfcSPacDHxbujG5WVVkPtO2LQhRSZ5Ogmy0qcZE6PDLPtqcokhNnLfW6kD3CKU4LUq/dByqHoKv3QRsabgcyU/qpUQdXFCNafjBM7aWqtWe32gmgs45SR6RdTPtXtWf9yPSIZagRupWnA1IIfTAHv8AKLiJhpuH74/sjaUGC1WsfXkfuE+kQzdp2sCqpH7hPpFieVEUFM3X/wAIHTZygku1MWwxyLQboRr21adJP/x0+kM/PNpP+x+4R57tIbOtDkXUSxT6xUT/ADRStalbtU4VammOJOGcTcroL9l6RTQsJmJkKlropPUpS4rXdS4PHEUhbILFYTQB2zpecO8DFr3k8+Ghi/0cL3+/yjOZbktKJbWslSbxetA1MOAgxIWSlN3dHBj7xAmbVQqKVwfB4LWZLXeUNYOiyrBJSsNfVQkFt4gliln4PFdF0khS5gINAlLZZlIbueOJloBJqCVKN5yBeveGWUQS1Ba2CXOJSlTkjB6vrCCS1WuYlurDpHaKki8M3SQQ5jkm2BilTqB1YKSHBdqP46x2dISkqWEzUgUKiHbHImo4tDZNomEEXUsHYkFi7fVyw1zh7CWWi/eN6UQKdtiwo7Xfl4t7P2nNBuhBUBQkEKA5OrRvCB81RBBNwg1a6ConRJCn+REikoISXKgKXVIKiCRrR+RglJp0ATmSFAFwSMaiutHiYWVjyNaeLmMpYZwv7kxMti7XGOFC6geFAYM2bpElDBaknK8lg55kkQalAv8AkF488fOOI2W6Sqjh/DlCl7YSc0pL4K3SeTsDrFkTwQcXOKgyhh6e+DiNqH5CDizfPpDZmywlyGqIKLnjBqYPl4g8DDFTUsXP8OPEf5h8RsDsuzWSoYueNIhs2zwh64l/nxjQ9YmrE0OlH5+GUVzPDgirfHj3QpjT2gs4SEgUpx/GORObWTVk+Uch6Dz61rICX9fPCG7VmAJkMCWLkZ0GTxVtSnXywf4iJNqH9D3+4ROBVWXZ5SyVDrgDXsgs9TgImlbLkOCpc4DGsoh++CezkgPyelRhE1pWq4lg1BTg1X0pFX6FpxdokkBKZoQHGMsjCGCzyCp/ylHDtCv3YkG858H8c8otWdwxcNmzcfl2iJZl7BJtMhUshhaJVMKt3E3fPOOosyXJTOk1w+lFOO8MY4qSgqO6K6gHPIxGdnSTUo8o0xk/4O7XpEmZ7cojhMR6xflSpn2DyWn1gD+b5NWluRziVOyZVKJ/i/viyG59jmkUl3jkApJ+MDrXsa0XGEmYeSScOUUJ2zEpBNRUBJClDTIqipPRdUyVzEin1z6wdBMdlzxjIm/u1ekV5tkmj/SmDV0K9IabUsYT5o/bMJW1bUksLRO+8Ym6o7Qy5SnS6Skvid1/Fng10OVeMwkFmajZv9queEC0bRmzFXZs5a09oPvVbnpFnola92aoZqA8oiyDQuZYvAB/Bj4mL6EqIww5esV5e83I8O6L8osD4GHDZWXOQ5T1jEKUFJvJDKcviNc4jmSSlSrig7uyt6rN2gRpg5gkjq71UliVVUEkYk4BT97QNtdgkhYWjdFXowGebB4g3ETZgdSkIU9BvmnEJIIzGkOLl7iS4HZ6y6k92nhEkucw/SJbUilMjRjE0i3hJoRMBHZRUtmAD44wBUsUkKU6QoP2lOA7YOH+ESW2zrDFC1qDh0FQ0PdFpYQoNuENQKUkNnpnwiNKJZoZTZEEpPvOGkACevN9lJXXBLs4biMO+LKzdYolKSK5hTnWgPmY7NmoLyzLN0HFLEHMBwYbMKEgpSFg5F1seHjD2Cl2kKV/qkAMWGpxa75GHTbSulZiQC4dOFfrU0PLweIetuqrMVXF61ahql4eu0pKn/KLmjtXDv7oZLKLeFEXZ5QQa5DKpCibvcG5x2022clW4u8HqXAGGgbnURXBRUpnpJU1GcE4OGOjZRXXZkTFB0B/aDJwoHBandBsCA2zMJO4C7YKp6tDhapxSGUkq4rul+Cs4qSrEiWmsyWpzQNez9pqcfdDFWxCVMJeb0SGwFQVADUd8EAitVpB7L85x/uhQM6lBrg5JY5PXJMKH2ewROMWdqdqVyPuiEJr3RNtJW9LHAnyaFPSq6FPdAoWwGYzcxczDkvywD+esUJBqK45ZPhBCUWBJrep3aVwwidLmonUgEMKaEgeLcY4EXTqHwNeQaIpVuYjdoPBtPnUw4qJrTF+XLOHJRbFyYkgbormHp4QpVpqykF+EMlbRAocYhtdqUqrMMo2QOyruTQ8KaM5KtKnoawZkKLVDQEtKIOMdIDUAiNAiS7AAraGzwpyMdCAx8njO2iSoU09/KNjNlxQt1jC01xyOnhC0GWsz3q6GCmwVi6tIYVFO6KU2zrQshQAN0sxd+NYi2ZIIWbxUCMk0eJvhxqLHa2Uw9knlUekEjaApKk6gt8jCBUiyS2Ci9PrBZeuWLwOtU0XilC5lFEUPkx7VMx4xMM+XJm9oLTQndUKCpOIIJiYCaCf0akmrXTw4l4gkyhcYmlcy3hHUpIoCW5lvfCB86WUy2QUqBxSxSBxD1JFaGJ7NOLF1AXdCzeuEVVAeyH5q9axAmzAElJKRgzu/iIAuSV31OQCQTvXQT4tDusL0LVrk/OKUpBGCyl+XxESrQoVCicsvgIWgZaVbxNSR9Z/hjnDbmIvlBI3WUaZjGIpiFZmiq5Y824CKtovZLqK4ctMYYSyusJIWsqIZi4w7hFlSwS+8wp2gfenCKlnlrBclKqYgt7hWkWCVOKprjiGbVkwyWvyg4AgD7SQQ9aUbTSKYmAlwlIahYFIPDQRMpAOC0g49kn3t7orrlM5Bd8WFfAwQ1k7PUkBfVpYFwRUY83PdFS0qXhdJGNcPOJEz7ootTuMgxbB6vEshSlKBvvWqSANGqcvOAB5mLFLvnCghNCSSQP4oUPYB05w/aP6WX+qYUKFPSoxKG8oZMKZfWyhWc9r9X4GFCgWitor4Q60YJ5QoUViVRSYuqG588YUKKSs7LSK0zgvlChQydR8IsEUjsKGCWIqWoU7/jChQgA7W/SS+R94gPtQsqnH4QoUTfDnobZlm8KmrPx5wYs3bHMQoUR+z/S7s/sJ5D4R1UKFBT/SvONYc9IUKAVGs1h6VGlTChQA6d6/CKkzPn6QoUIjx2Dy+MS3d/u+MKFC/Zfs1HahTBUd/wAIUKKP9GzRQd8dSMOXwhQoQOXiYUKFAH//2Q==" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Image result for drung monkton combe" border="0" height="150" 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" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The foot of Hill Drung, Monkton Combe.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On arrival at the top of the drung I had enjoyed the view of the darkened yet visible valley's features, and had somehow avoided the little kerbs. The straightness of the drung helped keep me straight. The sensation of seeing where I had come from was unusual. Facing up the hill would have left me looking at the slope, thinking about how far I still had to climb, and the house way above me, My new perspective was far more inspiring. It took my mind off the climb and allowed me to see better where I was coming from: in a manner of speaking.<br />
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Hills often have snow on them: in winter anyway. We live in the Thames Valley. My childhood in Oslo, Norway, taught me that snow and hills make winter wonderful. Bright days, bright nights. Endless fun. So when the weather forecast prophesied snow falling last night I became inordinately, irrationally excited. Apparently at the last moment the clouds mooched off eastwards, leaving a few, token,desultory patches of diminishing white flakes on the car and the driveway. Underwhelmed was I.<br />
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In Pilgrim's Progress Christian has to climb the hill Difficulty.He has the option to travel round the side of it- and there are two roads. One route is signposted Danger, the other Destruction. His two companions, Formalist and Hypocrisy, each take one of these routes. You can guess what happened to them.<br />
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<a href="http://www.redeemedreader.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/hill-difficulty-0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.redeemedreader.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/hill-difficulty-0011.jpg" height="200" width="160" /></a>Christian realises it's the hardest route on the road, but the only way to go:<br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
<i><b>This Hill, though high, I covet to ascend,
The difficulty will not me offend:
For I perceive the way to life lies here;
Come, pluck up, heart; let's neither faint nor fear:
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.</b></i><br />
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Hills you see, often have a deeper purpose. Whether ascending or descending, we learn much about ourselves, our inner motives and desires.<br />
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I like hills.<br />
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-69558783776635951732015-07-15T11:34:00.004-07:002015-07-15T12:02:43.082-07:00A Strange, Solitary Howgill SojournI have never slept out in the open in a tent by myself. Certainly not in the wild. The gusty wind lashing the side of my tent and the yelping fox prowling nearby at 2am were beginning to make me regret the decision to go on a retreat. To my 1980's adolescent memory Uldale was a peaceful, secluded valley deep in the Howgill fells; the river Rawthey flows over gentle waterfalls, and human habitation is non existent.Yet on this night, with rain spattering in machine gun bursts on the thin, one man narrow tent, I hunkered down lower in my sleeping bag, hoping that when the dawn arrived it would still be protecting me from the elements.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V_3iauoGRuo/VaU9_Exf3FI/AAAAAAAAASk/lf7SsgeXXwo/s1600/170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V_3iauoGRuo/VaU9_Exf3FI/AAAAAAAAASk/lf7SsgeXXwo/s320/170.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
It had all seemed such a good idea at the time. A retreat to my mind is not meant to be fun. it's not to pamper you, comfort you, or even necessarily restore you. It's to propel you from your comfort zones, physically, so that you can be purged and probed spiritually in your inner being. I planned to take the train to Kirkby Stephen West station on the Settle- Carlisle Line, then walk up Wild Boar Fell (2200ft), down into Uldale where I would camp overnight.<br />
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The next day I wanted to follow the Rawthey to its source on Baugh Fell, before descending to Grisedale and then trundle down the Eden Valley back to the station for an afternoon train to Leeds. As a reward, I booked to travel 1st Class home from Leeds. The strange, incomprehensible decision to cease through trains from Scotland in about 1980- The Thames Clyde Express, for example- meant a change of trains at Leeds.<br />
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Wainwright's book Walks on the Howgills, provided some sage, pertinent advice. This area is lonely, he writes,and you may not see anyone at all on your walks.<br />
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I didn't. Not until Grisedale anyway.<br />
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Wainwright also reminds the Howgill walker of the dangers of mist on the tops and how to avoid becoming lost. 'Follow the wall on the top of Baugh Fell down to Garsdale Foot.<br />
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I did. It was a mercy.<br />
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You will have gathered by now that this was expected by me to be a peaceful summer jaunt, with time to gaze over the rolling fells, with me humming 'my God how great thou art' and marvelling at the calmness, whilst reciting Psalm 121.<br />
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It wasn't. It was wet, misty and at times downright exhausting, yet strangely I learned more about myself because of this, and I'm certain I met with the Lord in a way you just don't get when you go on conferences with super smooth popular american leaders from mega churches in states where it never rains. Going wild with God has to be done. It's real sanctuary for the beleaguered soul.<br />
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As I stepped off the train and began the trek, I felt elated. The busy main road was soon behind me and I started the slow climb up Little Fell towards the ridge which leads to The Nab, a rocky outcrop at the northern end of Wild Boar Fell,which was occasionally obscured by clouds ( yes I know it's a Pink Floyd album).<br />
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On the subject prog rock,If I were to put a sound track to this little adventure, it would be Yes' classic album Fragile. The toute I took was a 24 mile roundabout, 'mountains did come out of the sky and stand there', there was a Long Distance Runaround, a' cold summer listening', and sometimes it was like 'South Side of the Sky' :<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.1428565979004px;">So much for deep worship songs.There were 2 hymns flowing through my head, which seemed to get stuck there. One was Lord Enthroned in Heavenly Splendour, </span></span><span style="line-height: 19.1428565979004px;">specifically</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.1428565979004px;"> the refrain Alleluia, Alleluia 'Jesu true and Living bread, and the other was In Christ Alone.</span></span></div>
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Never having climbed Wild Boar from this direction, I was a little daunted by the scree, rocks and precipices lurking a few feet to the left. Having scoffed a Mars bar, I launched my final assault and soon found myself lost in mist by the cairn next to the Nab. The top is a flat plateau, so I tootled the few hundred metres to the summit cairn, still in thickening mist.</div>
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At this point I made a silly mistake. I'm supposed to be a DofE chap, but I had no compass, and the map gave me no landmarks to walk beyond the plateau down onto Swarth Fell and thence to Uldale. So, sucking a lemon sherbet, I ploughed on and soon found a cairn.... the same one as earlier. You chump, I thought, and as the mist swirled, I though of Peter at the Transfiguration suggesting shelters. We can be idiots at key moments.</div>
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A plan came to me. I dropped down off the top to Sand Tarn, and walked round the edge of the fell. The mist was gone and after an hour I reached Whinfell Gill, with Uldale in the distance. By 7pm I was in the Dockholmes Limestone gorge above Uldale Force, struggling up a steep muddy rocky slope and desperate to find a suitable camp site.</div>
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And there it was, on the other side of the river: a ruined barn with plenty of level, close cropped grass. Joy was unbounded, since I realised I couldn't easily walk much further with my heavy load. (yes, that's by Free..).</div>
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The weather was worsening: the wind was picking up and the promised rain was imminent. </div>
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At this point, as I filled my water bottles from the beck, put up my tent, with some trepidation and difficulty, that I found doubts creeping insidiously into my wavering mind. Why aren't you in a nice B'n'B? What if the tent blows down due to your incompetence? As I lit the little stove in the lee of the stone wall of the barn, and poured out my Bolognaise sauce into a pan to heat up, I felt more and more isolated. My heart was flagging, my will to go through with this trek fading, and the rain was falling harder.</div>
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It's incredible how hot food revives the soul. I'll say that again. The SOUL. Eugene Peterson's view that Christians forget the centrality of food and meals in fellowship is utterly true. As I retreated into my tiny abode, sipping a hot cup of tea. I was a man again. Nothing could break me.</div>
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The next morning porridge, tea and reading Psalms 16-18 extremely loudly to various sheep generated a huge wave of worship. A few tears were shed as I sensed God's blessing, enhanced by the sun breaking through briefly on the slopes of the surrounding fells.</div>
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By 8am I was heading up Rawthey Gill. The terrain was tricky: walking across a 45 degree slope on marshy, tussocky wet ground drains energy. Even the beautiful waterfalls, rising linnets and larks couldn't disguise the fact that though the gradient was not steep, reaching the summit of Baugh Fell would be arduous. And so it proved. The final 100m I stopped three times, lungs burning. Finally I reached the cairn and yes, you guessed it: the mist descended!</div>
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Flasks of coffee are a life saver. I lurked and cowered behind the rocks by the cairn, and sipped the hot liquid I'd made earlier. I nearly hadn't packed it. My second plan emerged. I would walk directly south across the plateau to find the wall that ran along the top until I saw the cairn which marked Knoutberry Haw, the high point of Baugh fell.</div>
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Part 1 of this plan worked. Dodging small tarns and pools I saw, looming out of the mist, the stone wall. It seemed like a solid, welcoming <span style="text-align: center;">friend.</span></div>
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'I've hit the wall! I cried. I had too,though thankfully not in my tiring but still functioning 51 year old body.. Part 2 though of my plan failed. no summit cairn. Again, like on wild Boar, discretion took the better part as I followed Wainwright's advice and followed the wall ,with a fierce tailwind and rain shower, all the way to Grisedale, where I met the first human being for 24 hours: postie in his van!</div>
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Thereafter, I tootled cheerfully to Aisgill, munching Maoams, in gradually improving conditions, crossing from Yorkshire to Cumbria, and ate ravenously at the famous train-spotter's bridge. I was soaked, but the elation and chutzpah were returning, especially as I saw a steam train, and managed to refill my water bottles using an outside tap at Outhgill church. </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Once over Birkett Common on Tommy's road. I wandered under the famous line to Wharton Lane, where I negotiated two border collies guarding the road next to their kennels.One dog was friendly, the other vicious, but after passing these Cereberuses safely I stayed in the land of the living...</span></div>
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I rested on the platform at Kirkby Stephen for an hour, drying out, pondering my achievement, scoffing the remains of my provisions, and somehow not wanting to go home.</div>
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Ascending the hill of the Lord is risky, whether we have clean hands or not. Being in God's presence can be peaceful and calming, yet it can help us to experience the 'fear-of-the-Lord. This syntagm is missing in some sugary pseudo-Christian circles with drippy worship tunes. </div>
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Where can I go to meet with God? Like Jesus, on the lonely mountainside. There I can YAWP, weep, pray, shout, worship, laugh and be real with the One who Loves and has died for me and who calls me to follow him, to 'take up my cross', through good times and bad times.. ( yes, I know, Led Zeppelin).</div>
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Give it a go. The Lord, and the Howgills are there for you. Waiting. Still lonely, still remote, still places. </div>
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Not really.</div>
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-82811238016704880382015-06-28T13:58:00.000-07:002015-06-28T14:23:56.124-07:00A Sermon on Soul, Self, and SyntagmsHaving been asked to speak at Evening Prayer (traditional language) at 6pm on Sunday 28th June, I was filled with trepidation. A small, faithful congregation, lay led, like to keep this ancient service alive. I will willingly admit it's not really my thing, yet it has the most beautiful language and includes The Magnificat and The Nunc Dimittis, with phrases which resonate somewhere deep in my inner pysche, though I couldn't really tell you why.<br />
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The Lectionary readings too were not exactly well known or uplifting. I chose Jeremiah 11, 1-14 : all about the broken covenant between God and his people leading to them suffering disaster,doom and destruction. All a bit out of sync with the Collects for peace and protection from all perils...<br />
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Reading Eugene Peterson's book 'Christ plays in Ten Thousand Places' ignited some ideas,a d I found myself being drawn to 'obedience, the syntagm 'fear-of-the-Lord', the Hebrew word for soul: nephesh, and its antonym, self. In the end the following talk, hopefully spirit inspired, emerged..<br />
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The story is told that all the new officer recruits at Sandhurst parade for the first time in front of the RSM. He says, 'I will call you SIR, and you will call me SIR. The only difference is: I don't mean it!'<br />
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Obedience isn't fashionable these days, except in the services, where it is part of the routine of military life. Recently we have heard of Heads of schools and teachers feeling a lack of authority to discipline and control their pupils. Jeremiah in this reading about Judah and Israel having apparently irredeemably broken God's covenant, looks at how it is their disobedience which will now bring disaster upon them.God has given up on them. His patience has, seemingly, run out.<br />
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This does sound very heavy handed, as though God was a strict authority figure demanding obedience, and any deviation leads to vicious punishment. Surely this is coercive and oppressive God who says 'do as you're told.. or else? The people obey out of fear, and to avoid the painful consequences.<br />
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Claire has recently preached several sermons on the Old Testament, and asked us to wrestle with the question of God seeming to be a grumpy, judgemental, capricious figure in the Old Testament but gracious loving and compassionate in the New. The old covenant, given to Moses with its laws and commandments, was impossible to keep, and carried dreadful warnings of punishment, whilst the new covenant, with Jesus dying for us and providing forgiveness, appears to leave any judgement or punishment out of the equation. One is about fear, the other about love. Or is it?<br />
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Our obedience should come from fear: yet not the feeling scared if I disobey, but the syntagm 'fear- of- the-Lord'. This stock biblical phrase, a 'bound phrase', occurs 138 times in the Old Testament, and has nothing to do with fear. Rather it is about being in God's presence and cultivating a reverence for him Moses experienced this with the burning bush moment. He stood on holy ground, it was a gloriously powerful and life- changing moment, not primarily borne out of fear, but curiosity, leading to a deep close relationship with the Living God<br />
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So if this 'fear of the Lord is key to our relationship with God, it has nothing to do with rules, fear, or punishment. Yet neither is it just about going with the flow and cheap grace. it's not about attending church to feel righteous, or studying about God,( even thought that's a good thing!)<br />
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No, it must start with.. the SOUL. In John's gospel both Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman met Jesus and both were told they needed God's breath in their souls, living water. This 'fear- of- the- Lord, was flowing form another source; God's love.<br />
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The Hebrew word for soul is 'nephesh'. It means 'neck', It is this which joins our head and heart. Through it run the trachea and the jugular vein. Our whole being is pulled together, mind, body and inner being. Eugene Peterson says today in out culture we have replaced the word Soul with Self. Soul is a deep, relational word, implying relationships with God, others, and the earth. Self is the opposite, self absorbed, only focusing on the individual.<br />
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In verse 13 Jeremiah says that the people have as many gods as they do towns. Today's gods are mainly consumerism. We are asked to obey. Buy this car, wear this, drink that. This will fulfil our self, but it can't touch our soul. Around us this week we will see people buying into this, yet if we watch carefully we will see they have a nagging spiritual hunger. Many know vaguely they are being depersonalised. They are seeking for their lost soul, and we should be prepared to roll deep and point them towards Jesus, the only one who can cure our soul, and release us from self.<br />
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So Jeremiah's warning should resonate strongly with us. Obedience: fear-of-the-Lord, is a response to Love. It's not a response to rules or motivated by fear. It's our response to Jesus death on the cross. As we read God's word, Old and New Testament, we will see a consistently patient, loving heavenly Father who like the father in the story of the Prodigal Son, waits patiently for us to return to him. All we have to do is recognise our need: step out of the pig pen, and make the move. Jesus does, though tell us to obey his words, to build our house on the rock, and warns us of the consequences of ignoring them.<br />
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If you want to go deeper, immerse yourself in soul moments, immerse yourself in God's word, Claire said last week that the world doesn't need smart people, it needs deep people, who engage with the whole of scripture regularly,especially with others. Others will see and notice. President Obama, speaking last week a eulogy to the victims of the racist attack broke spontaneously in to Amazing Grace. It is overwhelming Grace which leads us to obey and follow Jesus for ourselves, and to forgive others.<br />
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An old hymn has the following chorus, which shows us that in the end obedience is the only way:<br />
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Trust and obey,<br />
For there's no other way,<br />
To be happy in Jesus,<br />
But to trust and obey.<br />
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Amen.<br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-55446930998657224842015-05-03T06:32:00.001-07:002015-05-04T06:16:17.377-07:00Inspectors, Inspections, Some Observations. The week just gone, along with the few days before, were some of the more exciting in my teaching career. I have been through a few school inspections, and they are always tough, even if you're prepared, but this one just seemed to have that extra 'pizzazz', for reasons which may become clear.<br />
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Mr Goole, aka Underwood, and his several minions, dropped us a line to say they would like to investigate not, thankfully, the suicide of one Eva Smith aka Daisy Renton, but our school. We weren't having a dinner party, and we don't live in Brumley, but some of us did wonder which of our secrets might be uncovered, so to speak. As Priestley's classic post war drama reminds us, it's always best to tell it how it is, and not pretend, or hide the truth. Inpector Goole wants us to be reminded that ' we are all members of one body', we do not live alone'. Without spoiling anything, I would like to say that our school building, unlike the Birlings in Stephen Daldry's innovative production, did not fall off its foundations and leave its inhabitants sitting in the rainy streets sheltering under blankets. Indeed, our community of teachers, support and maintenance staff and pupils proved that the human spirit can achieve wonderfully when united in a worthy cause.</div>
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Thus it was the school went into overdrive in the days leading up to the inspection. Books were marked furiously and meticulously, even retrospectively, classrooms tidied, records and data checked. Many Heads of Department rushed around demanding' female pigs' from their department colleagues! Many things which had been left undone for too long got done rapidly. The Director of Studies brow became furrowed, and his normally silky, smooth Scottish lilt developed a gritty edge. Emails flooded inboxes, stress levels soared. Then oddly, on the day the team arrived, all was dead calm.</div>
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I handed over my students' books for scrutiny with some trepidation. Three exercise books of varying quality, and another's folder which he had to discuss and share with one of the grey suited, eagle eyed Others. </div>
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And so on the Monday evening, the Game of Inspectors began.What it lacked in violence, incest or </div>
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torture, it made up for in tension and suspense... You don't know when we might come in to your lesson. If we do, we may stay for a while, we may leave half way through, but another one may wander in. Timeo Inspectoras... There are shades of Jesus' apocalyptic parables which resonate here. 'Stay awake then, for you do not know the day or the hour'. Actually, it was the staying awake at night which was bothering me...</div>
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Meanwhile I was still chewing over which tasks and ideas I could use to my best advantage if and when I was observed. After nearly thirty years as an English teacher, I will freely admit that I am out of the habit of writing lesson plans, especially ones with SEN information, time elapsed and learning outcomes. Gah. Painstakingly I ground out the jargon, and pestered my cool, funky, young department colleague for some ideas. He came up trumps. He always does. It's the glamour of youth and the spirit of adventure that men of his age are often invested with. </div>
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By Tuesday evening I was in a Churchillian, defiant mood. I felt like Michael Atherton facing up to Allan Donald in one of their classic duels: calm, but ready to throw the proverbial kitchen sink at everything in terms of my lessons. This was no time to be anxious, but to smile in adversity, and be confident. As Ron Dennis, the team F1 Mclaren boss, once famously observed, 'if you have done the preparation, then you can expect to succeed'.</div>
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<a href="http://c8.alamy.com/comp/BWG8TN/england-vs-south-africa-4th-test-match-trent-bridge-allan-donald-gives-BWG8TN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://c8.alamy.com/comp/BWG8TN/england-vs-south-africa-4th-test-match-trent-bridge-allan-donald-gives-BWG8TN.jpg" height="141" width="200" /></a>Wednesday 1105. Having not been observed thus far,I wandered into my classroom after break a few minutes to check all was ready. This was the lesson I had picked as the 'one'. Travel advert playing on YouTube, resources, It had to be now. I was ready. </div>
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She appeared at the door. My hunch was correct. As she was shown in by my Head of Department, My heart gave the slightest of leaps. I waved her to a seat, gave her my lesson plan and launched the lesson to my by now slightly cowed year 9 group.</div>
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An hour later, as the final pupil left, I turned to the inspector. She was smiling: not necessarily a good sign. This time though, it was. She seemed satisfied. We exchanged what is known as 'professional dialogue'. Ready for the next inspectorial visit, I went to my car outside and got my wooden Norwegian trail skis ready for my Year 8 starter. Sadly this wizard wheeze did not get seen. Maybe just as well, in the circumstances. Waving skis around a classroom the size of mine may have had some inspectors ducking for cover...</div>
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The rest of the week after that was a bit of a blur. The inspector who had come to watch the rowing. wrapped up in layers and wearing a thick dark blue long overcoat and with a serious expression to match,thankfully left before two coaches had to be towed back with defunct launches. I had tried unsuccessfully, to help him put on his life jacket, He may have thought I had other ideas...</div>
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By Thursday afternoon, though, my head had gone mushy. Lack of sleep had left me wanting a nap. Instead, I was, along with two colleagues, facing an interview about pastoral care. This lasted 40 minutes, after which I again retreated to the river to coach a rowing crew.</div>
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On Friday morning, with only period 1 possible for observation, I watched the classroom clock tick its way interminably, inexorably, towards 0916. A wave of relief surged through me as I realised it was all over, for now.</div>
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At 5pm, the staff gathered to hear the verdict which had been given verbally earlier in the afternoon to the Head. Scanning the Common Room, I saw a variety of expressions and faces, from the haggard, to the relieved, and the blank. Conversation was hushed, the celebratory Cava ignored for the most part. The Head took us through each section of the feedback in a slow, deliberately deadpan way. He looked exhausted too, but was there a slight twinkle in his eye? </div>
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As applause erupted, hands were flung aloft and exclamations of joy abounded at the end of his report to us, I thought how different this was from the end of An Inspector Calls, where only the Birling children show awareness and a desire to accept responsibility. For us there was no final telephone call of terrible news. But then again, like Yeats' gyre in The Second Coming, things will come full circle and we'll do it all over again. This time though:</div>
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'We had been tried, yet we had not been found wanting'. We all hate to be accountable, we all hate being judged, being found out. We all want to be good enough. Inspections remind us that one day our lives will be inspected by our Maker. The truth is, in ourselves, we are all unsatisfactory, and we won't pass. Thankfully, there is someone who can make us 'outstanding'in every way, and who has taken the inspection for us. Who is that mysterious man?</div>
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He is the Alpha and the Omega, the Living One.<br />
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Trust Him.<br />
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a5/Michelangelo,_Giudizio_Universale_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">.</a><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a5/Michelangelo,_Giudizio_Universale_02.jpg" height="320" width="264" /></div>
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-48408443698509048042015-02-11T03:52:00.001-08:002015-05-04T06:16:48.631-07:00That in Everything He Might ( cough) Have the Supremacy<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sermon
Checkendon 11am 8<sup>th</sup> February 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">About 3 minutes in I coughed and spluttered for about 2 minutes... then sounded something like a distant crackly wireless voice for another 3... gah,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Supremacy of Christ: 1 Colossians 1 15-20<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The famous
actress Nicole Kidman was once asked about her religious beliefs. She said
this: believe in a bit of Scientology, Catholicism, Judaism, and the eastern
philosophies. I like a bit of each. I’m a hybrid. She expresses the pluralism that is found
today in almost every corner of the world. Yet in today’s epistle reading from
Colossians, Paul presents to us, in a powerful, soaring few verses of theology
and praise, an image of Jesus which does not sit easily with the pluralism we
see today. Yet 2000 years later, not much has changed. Paul, writing from his
prison cell in Rome was aware of a very similar problem the Christian church
was facing in Colossae in Ad 60- that of Syncretism: the tendency to introduce
other philosophies and beliefs and put them on a level par with Christian
belief. This was a bit more serious than adding a few candles on the altar or
swinging incense, this was to Paul the slippery slope to heresy. In these few verses he encourages the
Colossians with a stunning and wonderful vision of Jesus as all-sufficient and
supreme. I have been reading and
pondering now for a few weeks as I prepared for today, and to be honest I still
struggle to comprehend the mind expanding truths contained here. The key words
to remember are ‘that in everything he might have the supremacy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Years ago I
heard a sermon on this passage by the late Reverend David Bubbers, whose style
of preaching must have been learned in the old school -because ensured that he
repeated this phrase about 20 times during the sermon. I don’t propose to use
the same technique this morning, yet I hope we will leave thinking hard about
how Jesus can reign supreme in our lives. There are three areas of Jesus’
uniqueness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He has a unique relationship to God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He has a unique relationship with the
universe<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His unique work on the cross.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Firstly:
Jesus has a UNIQUE RELATIONSHIP TO GOD. Verse 15 reminds us that if we want to
know what God is like, then we only need to look at Jesus. It is a question
that gets raised often at the school Alfah group – what was Jesus like? Sadly most of us have been born at the wrong
time and in the wrong part of the world to see ‘God with skin on’, as it were,
but in the gospels we meet the most perfect powerful consistent human being who
ever lived. Jesus himself said ‘If you have seen me you have seen the Father’.
He is ‘the image of the invisible God’. The writer to the Hebrews reinforced
this saying ‘The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact
representation of his being. The gospels
give a wonderfully detailed portrait of him. So although we can’t claim to have
seen God, yet through Jesus we don’t just know about God, we are offered a
relationship with him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Secondly,
Jesus has a UNIQUE relationship to the universe. Even Professor Brian Cox, ,
the presenter of several excellent Science programmes on the TV which my son
watches avidly, acknowledges that there may be a God. Here though Paul states
in verse 16 that by Him all things were created and that in Him the whole universe
is held together. He is in no doubt at all about who made the universe and who
sustains it. Verse 17 says that he is before all things, that is, He existed
before the universe began, he was the agent of creation,‘in him all things hold
together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We often
hear these days that belief in a creator God is declining due to scientific discoveries,
yet for every scientist who denies the existence of God, there are plenty who affirm
it. Louis Pasteur, who discovered the germ theory of disease and invented the
Pasteurisation process said The more I study nature the more I hold myself
astounded by the work of the creator. Sir Ghilean Prance, former director of
Kew Gardens says this: ‘For many years I have believed that God is the great
designer behind all nature- all my studies in science have since confirmed my
faith.’ Paul tells the Colossians that all creation is done by, through and for
the Lord Jesus. For so many scientists in History, from Galileo to Francis
Collins, director of the human genome project, God is orderly, rational and
majestic in power and creativity. So his creation therefore is, too- and way
beyond our limited minds or imagination. It’s not true to say that most
scientists are atheists. For every one that is, there plenty who are at least
theists, if not Christians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Is this your vision of God? If you are like me
God is one of 2 things. Either he is just a bit bigger than me, when I need
help and am in trouble, or he is a bit smaller, which is convenient, because
then he has no influence on my life and I can do as I please without reference
to Him! Yet whether I like it or not, the
reality is that His power and greatness mean he knows everything, especially
about you and me. We simply cannot afford to ignore our Creator. Thus huge
creative power was shown by Jesus when he calmed the storm on the lake of
Galilee, or when he caused a huge catch of fish, causing Peter to say ‘Go away
from me Lord I am a sinful man, and when he raised Lazarus from the dead. I
wonder if we need to expand our vision of God, and change our view. Like Peter,
we need to recognize that in the presence of this powerful God-man, we would
say the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thirdly,
Paul highlights Jesus’ UNIQUE WORK ON THE CROSS. Eugene Peterson’s The Message translation is
excellent here at clarifying the central event in human history in Jerusalem as
Jesus was crucified by the Romans. <i>From
beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So
spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him
without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the
universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit
together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured
down from the cross</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Here Paul
shows that the work of salvation goes even wider than humanity, that Jesus, the </span><span style="font-size: 18.6666660308838px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">first-born</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> over all creation is reconciling, restoring, and healing the whole
universe. Everything finds its
completion and its unity in him. Jesus deals with the problem of sin. He takes
the penalty and the punishment for us, because he longs to restore that
relationship with us, and one day to restore all things so that sin death and
evil will no longer exist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is why
Jesus is all sufficient, unique and supreme. No one else has, or even could do
this for us. Not Mohammed, not Buddha nor any other religious guru. No one else could offer forgiveness and peace
and a new start. In the verse 22 Paul speaks of the wonderful new status we
have, and how it has changed Once you were
alienated… but now he has reconciled you…by Christ’s physical body through
death to present you holy in his sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Many of you
will have heard of the sprinter Eric Liddell, from the classic film Chariots of Fire, who refused
to run on a Sunday. He won Gold in the 400m at the 1924 Olympics. This
astonishing feat was achieved from the outside lane in a still fast time of 47
seconds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Before he sailed to China to become a
missionary, giving up a life of fame and popularity, he and his friend D P
Thomson spoke at the Young Life Campaign meetings in Edinburgh. Eric spoke thus
to a packed hall:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We are here to place before you the
call and challenge of Jesus Christ. Many of us are missing something in life
because we after second best We are putting before you one who is worthy of all
our devotion- Christ. He is the Saviour for the young and well as the old, and
he is the one who can bring out the best in us. In Jesus Christ you will find a
leader worthy of all your devotion and mine. I looked for one I could admire
and I found Christ.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For Eric
Liddell, Jesus had the supremacy. He surrendered every part of his life and
served his master. He died in an internment camp of a brain tumour in February
1945. He never wavered from his trust in his all sufficient Saviour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And what
about us? Maybe we are tempted to think that we can rely and trust in other
things, material, or philosophical. Maybe </span><span style="font-size: 18.6666660308838px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">we've</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> forgotten that Jesus alone is
sufficient for us. He alone can save, and he has done it all. We may think we
can do things go gain brownie points. I am running the Goring 10k to raise money
for the church roof- it’s the sort of thing clergy spouses are supposed to do
apparently, but if I think somehow it will bring me credit in heaven </span><span style="font-size: 18.6666660308838px; line-height: 21.466667175293px;">I'm</span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> sadly
mistaken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">AS we
approach Lent, let’s take time once again to come to the foot of the cross and ask
God to show us those things he wants us to let go of, which we think are ok.
And let’s have the courage to avoid what Justin Welby calls moral claptrap, and
speak of Jesus as supreme, all sufficient, the only name by which we may be
saved. That ignoring his offer of forgiveness has serious consequences. If we
can capture a vision of Christ such as Paul describes here, we won’t sound arrogant or narrow minded when
we share our faith to others who like Nicole Kidman, think its okay to believe a
bit of everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you feel
God has been speaking to you this morning, and you want to reaffirm him as the
one who has the supremacy,please echo the word of this old song in your heart,
thanking Jesus that though he is the creator,sustainer, he also loves us immensely,
he has died for us and calls us to trust him and no one or nothing else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Turn your
eyes upon Jesus,<br />
Look full in His wonderful face,<br />
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,<br />
In the light of His glory and grace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Keep your eyes upon Jesus<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Let nobody else take his place<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So that hour by hour you may know his
power<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Till at last you have run the great
race<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-41925250190033088132014-12-31T06:28:00.001-08:002014-12-31T15:23:53.540-08:00Of Churchill, Angle Poise lamps and Moominpappa.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VO6ZFAOrPPs/VKP5IFvdfuI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/XG9V7Kl0BzU/s1600/2014%2B-%2B2" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VO6ZFAOrPPs/VKP5IFvdfuI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/XG9V7Kl0BzU/s1600/2014%2B-%2B2" height="200" width="148" /></a></div>
The new year will be about writing and this blog is about me trying to write. Why? Blame Churchill, an angle poise lamp and a burning desire to fulfil the immortal, though possibly unsupported claim that everyone has a novel in them, somewhere.<br />
<br />
A novel? Well at least a few short stories, articles, diaries, memoirs. I hope to have something published before the end of the year. At this point I really have no clue as to what, nor am I likely to, yet the muse has begun to hover sultrily above my ageing pate, and as I have now sucked on the half time orange of life I think it must be time to see if I have any skill in this field.<br />
<br />
So, what appeals? Stories about train journey across wild frozen wastes, travel articles on my own rail journeys, my memories of teaching, coaching rowing and being involved in a church. Also esoteric metaphorical fiction with the complexities of Yes' Tales of Topographical Oceans. Nothing estimable you might think. Nothing remarkable. Yet we shall see.<br />
<img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQuci0TODfTGiFDpuLq2Y9d994rzKFDBDWFT6X-CWCfNkIphmOx" /><br />
<br />
<br />
Churchill has fuelled my interest. Having visited the cabinet war rooms, read his early life, and now firmly ensconced in Boris Johnson's entertaining and witty 'The Churchill Factor' I realise how unproductive I have been in this sphere, whilst the great man read voluminously and wrote copiously. The time has surely come to eliminate wasted minutes on social media and other screen distractions and enter the time honoured world of writing. Even my Dad at the venerable age of 87 is still churning out very readable articles for a well known railway magazine.<br />
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The shilly shallying has to stop.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ctMGIyhOR2o/VKP5IOfWRNI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/BbopaCjiFg4/s1600/2014%2B-%2B1" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ctMGIyhOR2o/VKP5IOfWRNI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/BbopaCjiFg4/s1600/2014%2B-%2B1" height="200" width="148" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gxfj4bPzMzY/VKP5IH-mvlI/AAAAAAAAAQo/HwNzIWCwE8Y/s1600/2014%2B-%2B3" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gxfj4bPzMzY/VKP5IH-mvlI/AAAAAAAAAQo/HwNzIWCwE8Y/s1600/2014%2B-%2B3" height="200" width="148" /></a>I am tempted to do this the old way. Type writer, ink pen, manuscript, even find an amanuensis. This Ipad I am typing on is proving a temperamental beast with its auto correct and its lack of keyboard. It may well be the muse<br />
<br />
is more stimulated by the the more traditional ways of crafting a work of literature or journalism. The idea of a project gradually taking shape beneath the unflinching glare of an angle poise lamp appeals enormously. It speaks of invention, concentration, a world defined by its own semi circle of light.<br />
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Sadly this blog will only be the cradle, the nursery of such a grand ambition. You who read this will no doubt have your own views on whether I am capable of producing anything worthy or of note. So let's end with a beginning.<br />
<br />
Bizarrely I have just read the preface of Tove Jansson 's The Exploits of MoominPapa which says:<br />
<br />
'Everyone, of whatever walk in life, who has achieved anything good in this world, or thinks he has, should, if he be truth- loving and nice, write about his life, albeit not starting before the age of forty'.<br />
<br />
Well there you go .. It's a sign.<br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-89674007610016141842014-10-31T11:06:00.000-07:002014-10-31T11:37:05.448-07:00Reflections on I Heard the Owl Call My Name<div style="text-align: start;">
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<br />
Waterstones Book Shop in Bath has a knack of reviewing and displaying books which seem apposite to me. On the recommended display my eyes lighted upon visually the least interesting book cover- an orange sunset sky with a pine forest in silhouette. The title though really appealed to me with its suggestion of being a part of the wild natural world. Not only that, the blurb sent a resonance of our recent holiday in Vancouver Canada. ' I Heard the Owl Call My Name' is a haunting title for a profound story which moved me like few other books have in recent years.. Margaret Craven tells the tale of a young Anglican priest sent to a remote First Nations tribe in Kingcome, hundreds of miles north of Vancouver in the Pacific North West.<br />
<br /></div>
A short novel, it's sparse lyrical prose draws you inexorably away from the western ways of thinking and doing. Mark realises if he is to have any lasting positive impact then he had to become like them and yet remain utterly Christlike in manner belief and doctrine. Gradually they accept him as he unstintingly learns their ways.<br />
<br />
Becoming accepted by the tribe means sharing their sorrows trials, getting cold dirty and tired. it also means not getting a new vicarage. Their myths, traditions and beliefs appear to coexist peacefully. Mark buries their dead, baptises and confirms them, celebrates the major festivals. To them Jesus is another manifestation of the Supreme Being who governs their universe. Oddly, it is the atheist school teacher who refuses to interact and share their ways.<br />
<br />
Death pervades this novel, though not in a morbid, dark, shadowy way, but as a celebration of life itself. From the first page we are aware Mark has a terminal disease, though he remains unaware. From the spawning salmon who lay their eggs then thrash to their death in the shallows of the great river, to Mark's helping the elders of the tribe re-establish their ancient burial ground, it is as though death's very nearness accentuates the beauty and value of life.<br />
<br />
The growing cultural clash between ancient traditions and the growing threat of western values is a turbulent undercurrent in the novel, manifesting itself in the effect of being legally able to buy liquor, and the young wanting education, jobs and a western lifestyle. This tension is felt at its most when a white man lures a beautiful girl from the village before deserting her, yet managing to have filched the tribal mask of her family. She becomes a drug addict and dies in Vancouver.<br />
<br />
Visiting modern, powerful and wealthy Vancouver with its proximity to the mountains and wilds of British Columbia helped me to grasp the central conflict in this novel. Also it made me realise that our Christian faith means nothing until we prove ourselves to our local community and share our whole being with them.. The Kingcome tribe accept Mark because he is devoted to their welfare, prepared to go the extra mile for them. He learns their customs and language, and realises how their culture is being steadily eroded by the ever encroaching world of the white man's wealth and technology.<br />
<br />
Similarly In Fury, the recent war film with Brad Pitt playing a tank commander in Germany in April 1945, his new assistant tank driver cannot become a part of the team until he proves his worth in battle. Until then he is simply a hindrance. He is treated harshly by his colleagues until he finally sees the need to kill in order to protect his mates. His typing skills are suddenly useless, his ethics on war tested brutally.<br />
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No one we know or come into contact with will follow Jesus if all we do is visit an ancient building once a week to ' hear the softly spoken magic spell ' as Pink Floyd so aptly put it. We need to rub shoulders with them in the pub, in the town, wherever the community is. When they see love in action they'll want to know the author of that Love.<br />
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WA LAUM<br />
<br />
(That is all)<br />
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-15536952305783266982014-09-26T02:05:00.001-07:002018-03-19T07:01:06.627-07:00Have I started a fun novel? You decide..<div class="MsoNormal">
I seem to have started a novel- watch out Pratchett.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Incredible Journey of Marvinius Grop </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By Dougerry Adatchetts</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Far out in the wilds of the planet Heronium, a small grey
figure rode a huge white stallion. Galloping across the winter tundra, its
hooves left deep footprints in the icy ground. The figure was in a terrible
hurry and a glance behind gave a clue as to his fate if he were to be caught.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sudden explosion, which had ripped through the offices of the
interstellar trucking company UMove Ur Planet, left the sign with a new,
unfortunate title: U R An…. Various
amused bystanders walking past the burning, blackened ruins joked about a
certain planet beginning with U.<br />
<br />
Bariff Blodestone, the Chief Executive, stood
in shock. His life’s work had been obliterated in an instant. He didn't know
how and he didn't know why, but sure as hell someone was going to pay for it.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was at the precise moment that Marvinius had emerged from
the pub across the road, raised his wand to summon his horse, when the
explosion occurred. Bariff had glanced down the street, seen Marvinius with his
wand in the air, and immediately put two and two together to make 3.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seconds later several solar powered slingshot uMOVE 37
Radions, armed with lasers and a few bored manual labour droids, left the
ruined base to chase Marvinius.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The planet Heronium,
as with most in that southern arm of the galaxy, is prone to sudden sunlight
failure, which allows its weird sub species, the Grey Spiky Heron, to emerge
from icy rivers and take to the wing. Unusually, they possess infra red eyes, a
product of some strange evolutionary process too odd to explain.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Marvinius knew Tundra Orchid was tiring, and the Radions
were closing; he could see the sun glinting off their solar panels. The
occasional laser bullet sent a puff of smoke and sheets of flame into the
receding hoof prints.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was at that precise moment Heronium had its latest sunlight
failure.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Marvinius heaved a sigh of relief. His wand was temporarily
damaged, and his trusty steed, unable to see in the Stygian gloom, slowed to a
walk. Behind, the Radions faltered, their energy source gone, the
batteries at full power would only last a minute, and soon were motionless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An eerie silence fell across the tundra. The rushing wind
sweeping through the small copse of pine trees was the only sound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or was it?<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Above, the beat of huge wings could be heard. The droids,
scanning the horizon, decoded the aerial threat, but it was too late. As their
red tracer lasers shot wildly upwards, the flock of Spiky, spindly, herons
swooped in perfect V formation, their sharp
talons extended. One laser caught the wing tip of an unlucky heron, whose squawk
could be heard miles away. Talons ripped solar panels, tore through the thin
armour of the helpless droids and upended the Radion slingshots.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few hundred yards away, Marvinius could hear the horrific
sounds of destruction, and he smiled. He knew it could have been him. It had
been close. He jumped down and gave Tundra Orchid a drink of Floschwort Water.
It snorted and gulped the magic drink, rejuvenated. It was time to leave this
godforsaken, dreadful planet. Marvinius had some idea of who had destroyed the
UMove offices, but as yet he didn't know why. He had to find out.<br />
<br />
Fat the Next<br />
<br />
EreWan the Second had a sizeable problem: its transport to Nerveagentrusky was late, and there was little doubting the inestimable suspicion that it had been sabotaged, judging by the plume of black oily smoke which rose from just over the horizon.<br />
<br />
Genderless, and remarkably fluid, Erewan still referred to itself as a she, this was mainly due to a nostalgic longing for the days when everyone knew what gender was, but now most species had the genetic ability to alter theirs to suit the prevailing cultural miasma in a nanosecond. So, channeling a feminine thought wave to the brain, the outward shape curved elegantly into something recognizably humanoid and female , and within seconds a sharp looking silver Dwandltret Quavernator slid alongside, and a voice hollered form within.<br />
Hey babe, wanna ride?<br />
<br />
Erewan sighed at the retro sexist compliment, and climbed aboard. in the darkened interior she could make out the shape of a being who would, without too much bribery of indecent proposals, take her to Nerveagentrusky, where her she had a date with the ever elusive Marvinius.<br />
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The quavernator hummed effrtlessly into the purpling skies, its solart powered turbines wafted it to a mind bending speed.<br />
<br />
The mystery pilot glanced across and said ' He's looking forward to meeting you'.<br />
Who? asked Erewan mystified.<br />
The being you will meet' replied the pilot enigmatically.<br />
Ah, so you don't know who that will be? replied Erewan<br />
No, but I know that it will cause extraordinary disruption to your otherwise manicured life><br />
Goodness how bizarre! spluttered Erewan. Have you been on the Grancharweed ? I hear it's cheap in these parts.<br />
No, Grancharweed is for those who live near Cambridge and love to ponder tragic edwardian love poetry. I merely am here to tell you of a huge seismic wobble in the fabric of our multiverse.<br />
Erewan lapsed into silent mindfulness, layering herself with protective thoughts.<br />
Soon the Quvernator burst into Nerveagentrusky's atmosphere and descended rapidly.<br />
The mystery pilot spoke ' no charge for this ride babe, hang loose and stay alert..<br />
Erewan got out swiftly, not even acknowledging the pilot, but grateful for once to hhave been a degenerate freeloader.<br />
She strolled slowly towards the tall floating 2 mile high statue of President NerveAgent, which also served as the offices of the Bariff Blodestone's ever expanding empire.</div>
Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-91198569258025030122014-08-26T10:16:00.004-07:002014-12-31T15:25:50.203-08:00#Scotland Decides for.. Disunity and Division?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the 18th September, Scotland will decide to vote for political independence. The once unthinkable is fast drawing upon us here in the United Kingdom. Gentlemen, and women, in England now abed, are apparently oblivious to this powerful seismic rumbling, wishing and thinking it means nothing. Wake up; it does. This Isle,set in a silver sea, could be rent asunder by the machinations and persuasions of a man who makes false promises and seeks his own greatness, not the good of everyone in the UK.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here in England, those of us who love and appreciate Scotland know we can't do without her. We also feel frustrated that we have no say in this event. Whatever our differences, Scotland is part of the spine and backbone of our nation. Down the centuries we have had differences, wars, battles, border disputes, but now is not the time to weaken, dissolve and disintegrate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Make no mistake, this isn't really about Trident, Currency or Oil. This is about national identity, about nationhood, about spiritual heritage. If we lose these things, watch the disunited UK's decline accelerate. Mr Salmond promises economic prosperity, wealth, freedom, and paints a picture of Nordic paradise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He's misguided.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like many visions and broad brush sweeps of a picture, it sounds beautiful and utopian. It looks like Ben Lomond on a clear summer morning, with the still tranquil Loch reflecting the hills around. And it may be so, for a decade. Yet what of the long term future? How will we face Europe and our global concerns as separate nations? </span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xw-OoQ6dugg/U_y9ezsOGzI/AAAAAAAAAI4/d-K_hNYPtUo/s1600/View-to-Ben-Lomond-008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Xw-OoQ6dugg/U_y9ezsOGzI/AAAAAAAAAI4/d-K_hNYPtUo/s1600/View-to-Ben-Lomond-008.jpg" height="191" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Winston Churchill, ever the sage, wise and prophetic political leader, would have warned us about the perils of disunity. How would we have faced the dark evil of Nazism if this had come to pass in 1939? And it's time our prophetic leaders today in the Church made the position clear. A nation divided cannot stand, unable to defend itself. The Psalmist says 'Unless the Lord builds the house they that labour labour in vain'. and 'How pleasant is it when brothers live together in unity. The splitting of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah was catastrophic. It's time we English made overtures to our neighbours across the border and reminded each other that like it or not, we are family, and families stick together, even if they disagree or fight!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I hope English people will stop whingeing or wondering about St George and their own identity and begin to think more about being British. I hope they will begin to speak openly about this issue and see the dangers. Whatever influence people exert in the UK economy, industry or business, they must use it to show the folly of Scotland becoming independent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In 1707, the Act of Union was finally passed, over a century after James had signed the initial attempt to unite the nations .<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"><span style="color: #252525;">On the Union, the historian</span> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Schama" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 22.399999618530273px; text-decoration: none;" title="Simon Schama"><span style="color: black;">Simon Schama</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; line-height: 22.399999618530273px;"> said 'What began as a hostile merger, would end in a full partnership in the most powerful going concern in the world ... it was one of the most astonishing transformations in European history.'</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is what is at stake. It's possibly the most significant moment in the history of the United Kingdom. Roughly 4 million Scots, living in the UK, can affect the lives of over 56 million. This seems deeply unfair and unjust. What's worse is that many of the 56 million or so are sleep walking their way to a precipice. Speak up, speak out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In King Lear, the helpless disguised Duke of Kent rails helplessly against the servant of the evil Duke of Cornwall. He knows, but cannot prove the serpent- like and insidious nature of Osric who is described as a 'smiling rogue' who 'like rats oft bite the holy cords atwain, which are too intrinse to come loose'. Even though it is a Referendum, it feels like someone has sneaked in and is slowly gnawing away at the bonds which we thought were inextricably linked. In the words of the Wedding service</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What God has joined, let no one put asunder. And as the South African motto says</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ex Unitate Vires.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deo Volente, on 19th September, we will still be living in a United Kingdom.</span><br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-39237036042822961872014-01-05T05:49:00.001-08:002015-05-03T07:11:54.247-07:00Of PQ17, Magi, & 4 wise ships: HMS Ayrshire, Troubadour, Silver Sword, and Ironclad.<br />
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<img src="http://www.hulltrawler.net/Photo-Sidewinder/AYRSHIRE.JPG" height="156" width="320" /></div>
<br />
I was utterly captivated this Christmas, not by Dr Who, Downton Abbey, or Sherlock, but by BBC2's PQ17, An Artctic Convoy Disaster, presented impressively as ever, by Jeremy Clarkson.<br />
<br />
On July 4th 1942, First Sea Lord Admiral Dudley Pound shut his eyes in a meeting for a long time. Everyone present presumed he had fallen asleep. When he finally opened them, he made one of the worst decisions of the entire war. Nobody knows why he ordered the Arctic convoy PQ17 to 'scatter'. He rejected all the advice and intelligence on offer. The result was a naval catastrophe. U boats and German bombers picked off 24 out of the 35 ships, often with consummate ease. 153 men died, and huge quantities of arms and munitions desperately needed by the Soviets, were lost.<br />
<br />
The convoy in question was on course, it was well protected by cruisers and destroyers, and most importantly the Tirpitz, Germany's powerful battleship, was still lurking in a Norwegian Fjord, and not as Pound seemed certain of, at sea, about to wreak havoc.<br />
<br />
Out of all this horror and carnage, though, emerges a tremendous story of courage, ingenuity and sheer eccentric bloody mindedness. It makes Captain Phillips' tale look rather tame.<br />
<br />
Temporary Lieutenant Leo Gradwell, RNR, in charge of the converted trawler HMS Ayrshire, (pictured above) with no navigational qualifications other than a certificate to sail a yacht in coastal waters, a Sunday Times Atlas and a sextant, decided to disobey Pound. He found 3 freighters and sailed north, straight into the pack ice, to escape detection. A risky ploy, but it worked. There, at Gradwell's insistence, virtually stuck, they painted the ships white, banked the fires, and loaded all the guns of the tanks on the decks with shells, then pointed the barrels at the southern horizon to defend themselves from surface attack. Finally they used any white sheets and tablecloths to further camouflage the ships. It must have worked since one reconnaissance plane flew over without apparently noticing them. Eventually they successfully reached Archangel, but not before Gradwell had to use his skills as a barrister to persuade the american crews of the ships not to just unload their precious cargo on the first bit of land they could find and declare neutrality.<br />
<br />
Gradwell's unexpected and risky journey has more than a whiff of Epiphany about it. The wise men had no more than a star and some odd prophecies about a King to go by to get to their destination. They had to use subterfuge to escape detection. They, like the freighters, were carrying precious, significant cargo. The Russians at Archangel saw 4 ships come sailing in to port on 25th July in the morning. I doubt, though, they bowed down and worshipped the plucky RNR Lieutenant. Stalin,did however, acknowledge his contribution, and the stuffy Royal Navy felt obliged to give him a medal despite the fact he disobeyed orders.<br />
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Gradwell completed his epic, dangerous journey. He was not to be put off. His mission was to shepherd those 3 ships, their crews and cargo to port in Russia. To deliver the treasure. Pack ice, U boats, torpedo bombers? These threats had to be faced, not avoided.<br />
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We too may face being abandoned. People may laugh at our apparent lack of expertise, qualifications or the fact we place our hope in a guide book which many deride- a 'Sunday Times Atlas'- aka the Bible. Yet it contains the truth about God, us and the way to be saved. We may have to take risks, use our ingenuity, so that we share the treasure we have. Gradwell saved the men and cargo in those 3 ships. They did not perish. Jesus, the King, risked everything for us, that we might not perish.<br />
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So, this New Year, be like Leo Gradwell, a wise war time Magus. Carry that treasure, face up to dangers, and fulfil the mission you have been assigned by the One who loves you.<br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-70512118484668694682013-10-31T03:59:00.000-07:002013-10-31T11:15:03.001-07:00 Of Hendrix, Muse(Captain Phillips) and Pearls<br />
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BBC1's recent Imagine programme provided a fascinating insight into the life of probably the greatest rock guitarist ever, and since then I have read of his sad demise in a flat in Notting Hill on September 17th 1970 aged just 27. By then, it appears, he was a lost soul, adrift and direction-less, at the exploitative mercy of others in the music world. A photograph taken in the garden the afternoon before he died, shows a drawn, haggard figure with a childlike expression, holding 'Black Beauty', his favourite Stratocaster.</div>
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<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/c/cb/Jimi_Hendrix%2C_17_September_1970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="File:Jimi Hendrix, 17 September 1970.jpg" border="0" height="183" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/c/cb/Jimi_Hendrix%2C_17_September_1970.jpg" width="200" /></a>I don't think I've ever really explored his extraordinary, unique life. Tracks like Purple Haze are hard wired in to my brain, as examples of a guitar riffs which have to be learnt. I was given a T shirt on which was emblazoned the cover of Axis Bold as Love, along with a tin full of guitar picks, with images of him looking flamboyant. On my wall to my right I have a huge poster of him playing 'Black Beauty' in a studio session.When it was hanging in my study in Orchard House at Shiplake I always asked prospective pupils and parents what was odd about the way he held the guitar. If they noticed he was playing a right handed guitar slung upside down I generally said they had passed the entry test! Like so many pupils I have known, genius comes in many, strange and unusual guises.</div>
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<br />
He wrote a poem later on that day called The Story of Life which ends thus:<br />
<br />
“The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye...until we meet again”.<br />
<br />
Prophetic? Possibly. For Hendrix, his stellar, revolutionary guitar style, had brought sudden, meteoric fame, but with it had come the demons of drink, drugs, and promiscuity, disguised as comforts mechanisms to help with the hurly burly of stardom. He had no defence against these demons, no protectors, no one who could step in and save him from an untimely death, choking on his vomit. Had he sold his soul for rock'n roll? Maybe. Yet oddly, he had lived his dream, and left an indelible mark on the world. <br />
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The opening of Captain Phillips shows him driving with his wife to the airport in Vermont on a busy highway. They chat about how the world has changed, things happen so fast, and it is clear it is with some reluctance he has taken the job of sailing the Maersk Alabama to Dijibouti from Oman. Once on the ship, his concern and fears about pirates are evident, although his crew seem less than impressed with his insistence on security being tightened on board. This is a trial of wills from two opposing worlds, one the world of power, trade, money, the other is a world of desperation, poverty, injustice. The pirate leader's resolution 'I come too far to go back now' as he takes on the might of the US Navy, is born of desperation. Ironically, he wishes to go to America to spend the ransom money. He gets there, but as a prisoner who will spend 33 years in jail for piracy.<br />
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Captain Phillips may seem the eponymous protagonist, yet this film questions whether 'might is right'. His own integrity is intact, yet as he sits in the medical room on the USS Bainbridge, his physical wounds being examined verbally, clinically, coldly, by the woman doctor, we see his trauma and shock. 'Is that your blood? she asks. 'Not all of it', he stammers, aware perhaps that like Macbeth 'all the multitudinous seas incarnadine' cannot wipe it away. She bombards him with questions, yet fails to show an ounce of pity. The final image of Muse on the deck of the frigate in a life jacket is of a powerless, helpless, tricked victim, at the mercy of the US military.<br />
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For me Muse's mission and stubborn determination to succeed makes him the stand out character in the film. 'Look at me. Look at me. I'm the captain now'. We sympathise with his 'demise' too, as much as we applaud the heroic, sacrificial actions of Phillips, especially his bandaging of a pirate's foot cut by glass, which is later used to blindfold him.</div>
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Hendrix and Muse, tragically, both ultimately lost ' their 'Story of Life'. Their dreams are crushed by forces greater than themselves. In the blink of an eye, Hendrix's star began to fade. In the blink of an eye, Muse's mission for six million dollars was destroyed, despite his personal bravery and heroism. If only they had known that adulation, money and freedom are elusive, promiscuous bedfellows. If only they had learnt of a treasure that <span style="font-family: inherit;">never fails,' a pearl of great price'.</span></div>
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In Matthew 13 Jesus says that: the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.<br />
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'There must be more to life than kidnapping', says Captain Phillips to Muse.<br />
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-85919680149300304322013-08-27T15:04:00.002-07:002013-08-28T09:47:27.611-07:00If You Start All Woolly, You Won't Know What You're Knitting.. <span style="font-family: inherit;">..said a bouncy friend who we bumped into as we wandered in to Greenbelt on Bank Holiday morning. She was all fragrance, energy and frizzy wet blonde hair. Happily divorced too. The new found freedom clearly agreed with her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She was referring to her 13 year old, who had just returned from a Scripture Union camp full of biblical enthusiasm, having morning 'Quiet Times' and a desire to see her friends follow Jesus. No woolliness in her nascent evangelical theology, and she really did know what she was knitting. So too is my 11 year old niece, who returned home singing My God is Mighty to Save, and full of excitement about living the Christian life. Her parents, who lurk somewhere on the liberal spectrum, also went on such ventures, were also quite taken aback.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Greenbelt was a bit like that 40 years ago. A Christian Music Festival with the big bands of the day. It's all quite different now, more eclectic, some would say, more woolly. It has aged too. No longer is it full of hordes of teenagers from church youth groups, but middle aged couples, vicars, teachers or parents with young families. Yet there is plenty to enjoy, and much to inspire. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fat and Frantic injected a fairly lethal dose of frenetic insanity at a critical moment on Monday lunchtime. The Festival might just have been like the average 40 year old who fancies a snooze on bank holiday afternoon.They provided an explosive, rude, disgracefully nutty awakening. Thousands recaptured their 80's youth, dancing wildly or lying on their backs waving legs madly in the air. Jim Harris bounced around and off the stage, Silas Crawley stuck his tongue out in a grotesque manner, whilst Jon Soper, in a harlequin shirt, played his guitar with a dead pan expression on his face. I laughed and danced continuously for 90 minutes. Nothing woolly about this lot. Hair loss, well maybe, memory loss- possibly. Faith loss? Not a bit of it. Their heartfelt, 'idiot for Christ' Christianity just beamed out in waves of silliness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">After Brian and Last Night My Wife Hoovered my Head ended, I felt like I'd been hit by a Freight Train of zaniness. I was thirsty and desperate for refreshment. The Jesus Arms floated like a mirage in the haze. Recovery was slow, but by 6pm I was in the Christian Aid tent ready for another helping.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anthony Wilson was another razor sharp, non woolly speaker. Having had a nasty brush with cancer a few years ago, he was reading from his newly published journal 'Love for Now', and poems from his collection 'Riddance'. Last time I was with him was in an English A Level class at school. He was witty, laconic and worryingly alternative then, and cancer has seemed only to make him more so. His insights into his condition and others' reactions are shrewd and perceptive. I am scared of cancer and hate hearing about it, but Anthony's story was just utterly compelling. He has a small but very attentive audience. We chatted briefly. I was conscious that he'd been to many dark places that I hadn't, and hope I never have to. He though, emerged from that particular tunnel with enigmatic smile still intact, and that cool, sonorous, deep reassuring voice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The only woolliness which really bothered me was hearing Steve Chalke speak at the Grandstand, oddly named Jersualem. He has lost none of his humour and lively engaging manner. His brief was how the church needs to wake up and in the post welfare post Christendom era, get out of our religious buildings and get running our communities, building the Kingdom of God. He took Jesus' first words in Mark's gospel </span><br />
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The time has come,” he said.“The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”<br />
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This is where he, of all people at Greenbelt,got a bit woolly. <br />
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Repent means, he said excitedly- WAKE UP! Do things differently. We have made people think that it means if you don't believe you go to hell; it has negative connotations.<br />
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He's right, and wrong. We have maybe stressed the consequences of rejecting Jesus too much. In the context of the church engaging in community and with social issues he's right. Yet I am sure that Jesus did not mean that then and there when he was speaking to his fellow Jews . Repent means turn from sin ,find forgiveness and a new start. THAT'S Good News. Transforming communities, as Steve Chalke seeks to do with his Oasis projects, will only ultimately succeed if it starts with lives being transformed first. Hudson Taylor knew the necessity of preaching to the lost, dressed in his Chinese clothes, whilst dispensing medicine and helping the poor in China. I'm not sure Steve Chalke and Hudson Taylor would be on the same page in terms of their evangelism and mission, different culture and century or not. I hope he was being liberal with the text as a means to energise us into community stuff, but maybe he's gone woolly and taken his eyes off surveying the wondrous cross.<br />
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So, all you fuddy duddy conservative evangelicals who cast a baleful eye at Greenbelt, and curse its apparent heresies. It's still there, forty years on, and God is still at work there, inspiring his people. It's not a Sodom or Gomorrah, even if it has got some strange stuff going on. It's time we stepped out of our tribalism and worked together. Woolly or not.<br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-35014431723875300492013-07-17T06:24:00.001-07:002013-07-17T08:13:54.099-07:00Of the Dangers of Stereotyping Men, Cairngorms, and SpeedingI used to love the fact that Wild at Heart, by the American author John Eldredge seemed to herald a new era in re establishing the debate at what it means to be a Christian man in this day and age. I read this book about five years ago and it transformed the way I related to my dearest OH, and refashioned me, in cricket parlance, in to a front foot, cover driving, attacking Christian, unafraid to share my beliefs with anyone who'd listen. For too long we had been emasculated as effeminate, arty farty, anorak and sock/sandal wearing church going, geeky, nerdy gimps who wore NHS glasses whose idea of a good time was rewiring their model railway.<br />
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( By the way,I love them). So does Rod Stewart, and James May.<br />
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In fact James May has thankfully redressed the balance of real men also loving sheds, railways and all things mechanical. He is a much needed role model for young would be engineers and scientists. In fact, The Top Gear trio present an interesting cross section of different types of man. Clarkson, for all his sardonic macho posturing does have plenty of emotional intelligence, which is evident in his interviewing guests on the show. Hammond has that boyish thoughtful enthusiasm which is infectious with young people. None of them are what you could call AVERAGE BLOKES.<img height="192" src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Media/Pix/pictures/2008/06/23/topgear460.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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Whilst at university, there did seem to be a huge dichotomy. Few Christian blokes I knew were both sport mad, beer drinking types who were equally at home with art, literature, nay even poetry. The few I met may well have saved me from myself. You know who you are: Harry, Richard, Paul!<br />
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Since then, I have applauded the initiatives of organisations like CVM (Christian Vision for Men), and others who have sought to address the tragic lack of men in church. Robust marketing of a new magazine, the aptly named Sorted, conferences, and regular evangelistic events have seen some remarkable effects on the way men have reconnected with their faith or simply been converted. Now more than ever we are not ashamed of Jesus. If Bear Grylls can hack it, then so can we.<br />
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Yet there is a nagging doubt creeping into my mind about this new evangelistic initiative. It has its focus firmly on the AVERAGE BLOKE. Who is this, exactly? The Top Gear fan, who drives a white van, wear T shirts, jeans, likes beer, football and various types of rock music. He also apparently likes nothing better than to make stuff, burn stuff and hates the idea of sitting in church. Conversely, he is apparently largely illiterate (apart from reading The Sun). knows nuffink about the arts or gardening, is emotionally repressed, and hates the idea of shopping, especially with his partner. He would seem to have few academic qualifications. The thought of having a deep theological discussion or an emotional heart to heart brings him out in a cold sweat!<br />
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There is a danger with this. It makes too many assumptions about blokes. We are <u>not</u> all <b><i><u>meat heads</u></i></b>. And for those of us who are, we also love an Renaissance art, Jacobean theatre, poetry, and intellectual or theological debate, alongside the latest Metallica album, watching rugby or just beating the hell out of a mate on the tennis court. The result of making these assumptions is we marginalise the quiet, academic, emotionally intelligent thoughtful chaps who are very at ease with traditional church, architecture, and love nothing better than choral evensong. At my public school these more sensitive types often got the thin end of a wigging about being a wuss, whilst us red blooded sportsmen were, apparently, the real men.<br />
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That's codswollop.<br />
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Furthermore this type of Christian evangelism may very well alienate those men who are gay if we are not careful. It may well be that the university educated professional arty types are in a minority, but they will not respond to evangelistic events that focus on the more brutish elemental stuff. ( which of course I do love!)<br />
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And so to the Cairngorms. Trekking from Linn of Dee near Braemar up Ben Macdui last week exposed my Clarkson approach to the expedition, and my brother's more James May way of thinking. He insisted on 3 compasses, 3 first aid kits, 3 whistles, and waterproofs even though the forecast was a for a heatwave ( and it was). Whereas I was happy with just a map, tent, sleeping bag and a stove with some food. My eldest son, wisely, kept quiet, but he is much more of a precautionary type too! Nevertheless we slept out near Hutchison's Bothy, and the next morning prayed together before the final ascent. Priceless moments of Father/Son/Uncle/Nephew bonding. The next day we enjoyed chatting to to the owner/driver of a steam locomotive on the Deeside railway, about technical issues, then later we made fire with a bow drill, before going to church.<br />
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Finally, a friend who's been done for speeding asked me to write a character reference for him to read out to the Magistrate if he has the misfortune to go to court. As I typed my thoughts on him , words like integrity, reliable, and calm came to mind. Also dependable, methodical. He is on that much vaunted five year journey to faith, but it seemed to me that he's already not far from the Kingdom of God.<br />
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Now I just have to pray that the Almighty stimulates his emotional intelligence. His wife would be thankful for that, I know. It's in all men. Jesus had it, he related sensitively to men and women alike. We may not all be academic, wine quaffing intellectuals...<br />
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.. but we can aspire to be the men Jesus wants us to be, not an 'average bloke'.Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-69736286714912645912013-04-28T12:51:00.000-07:002013-04-28T13:01:31.939-07:00Of Chapel Services, Open Mornings and Album Covers<br />
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It wasn't a quiet week in Whitchurch or Shiplake, to misquote Garrison Keillor.<br />
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Taking chapel on Monday and Thursday had taken its toll. There is an art to ensuring you 'preach the gospel' in a public school. You can be too liberal, delivering platitudes about living morally, that God is lovely, and bore the proverbial pants off a lot of teenagers. Yet you can veer dangerously to the stereotypical evangelical too, though. I hope I walked that particular tightrope as I spoke about Peter in John 21 where Jesus asks three times 'Do You Love me?' Jesus takes Peter to the heart of his betrayal, forgives, reinstates.We all need that. Everyone has messed up, and only Jesus can give us that new start. Then we live the life, as Switchfoot sing we were MEANT TO LIVE. Playing the Killers Human beforehand, with Steve Turner's Poem for Easter,and singing Jerusalem ought to have convinced them that neither chapel nor Jesus needs to be dull, irrelevant or unattractive.</div>
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By Friday evening I'd had enough. Exam marking, and school duty had drained the dregs of my normally ever ready chutzpah. Saturday, however was the sting in the tail: Open Morning at Shiplake, after which I travelled to Dorney Lake with a rowing crew for their first regatta.</div>
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Now on Open Mornings, I normally switch on my charm and smoothest smile, show off the school, listen earnestly to questions about academic standards, pastoral care, sport, food, bullying. Not this year.</div>
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For once, I found myself deep in the basement of the main building, stacking several hundred chairs with a few likely lads, enjoying some lively banter. The life of a roadie suddenly seemed very attractive. Being in the background, not in a sharp suit or the prospective parental eye, was just abut the most relaxing morning I'd had at school for a number of years.</div>
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My classroom, which is shabby chic personified, had been locked so tourists and guides would stroll past, oblivious to the strange sights within.The green paint work on the door, though, is peeling. I covered it with the album covers from Blondie, Bowie, Elton John, Bob Dylan and The Clash. As I wandered up to it after my subterranean sojourn, I noticed it was receiving curious glances. Perhaps they thought it was the Music Department, or just the office of a maintenance man. Well, It was, that morning. I wish I'd stuck up some of the late Storm Thorgerson's covers for Pink Floyd's albums. His genius had an enormous impact on boys like me, almost as much as the music itself. They spoke of the weird, the other, the absurd, and made us ask questions. The cover of Wish You Were Here, with two strange men outside large hangars, shaking hands, their grey suits catching fire inexplicably. Or that metal handshake. Mysteries indeed. Our sharing of the gospel to teenagers must not be trite, simple, or even clever. It must intrigue, provoke, and ask questions. And be as cool as Pink Floyd always will be.</div>
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That Jesus is always saying to us. 'Wish You Were Here'.</div>
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-46519583376953244432013-04-12T10:11:00.001-07:002013-04-12T11:48:13.534-07:00Of Fells, Fifa and er Wensleydale CheeseI've just lost my nth game of Fifa football against my youngest son.But that is not all, my friends.He also had the gall to defeat me at Scrabble whilst on holiday in the deep still slightly frozen north, after long walks across fells still sporting craftily sculptured snowdrifts. This was on the third time of playing; he'd finally worked out al the cunning secrets of scoring highly, and now I fear my Scrabble supremacy is doomed.<br />
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His 13th birthday approacheth, and each day he manages to show that the adolescent waves are rolling in to crash on the beach of young adulthood. He can identify the key of a song on the guitar in the flick of a plectrum, lie in bed till at least 1030, buy skinny jeans from Top Man. All this accentuates, nay even accelerates my middle aged feelings. His thinly disguise contempt for my basic guitar playing is only mildly offset by his now tenor guffaws at my quirky weird humour.<br />
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Still, there are, reassuringly or not, ( I'm not sure) flashes of me coming through. He storms up the Howgill Fells like I used to, stuffs his face when hungry and hesitates in a classic diffidence when told to contact friends. I can forgive him his lack of interest in railways, his brother seems to have collected that particular gene. His liking for doing the outlandish and experimenting is scarily like mine-especially when it comes to churchy youth group stuff.<br />
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So that moment on the top of Green Bell, with views over the snowy Lakeland fells and the Eden Valley was hugely uplifting. He was way ahead of me,up the last steep incline with nowt but blue sky and sun above, trudging through the melting but still ankle deep snow to the trig point. I kept remembering my 13 year old self up there skiing one cold snowy Spring, and other memories. Trainspotting at Kirkby Stepehen station, fishing in the becks, skateboarding down the village street, hoping that a car wouldn't turn the corner at the bottom when I'd worked up to full speed.<br />
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The one big difference between now and then, him and me, is the reliance on the mobile phone. Our cosy multi fuel stove heated cottage had no signal at all. This caused teenage angst. The top of the hills gave him and his sister blessed 3G relief, allowing texts, tweets and emails to flood in. I couldn't really care less! I was quite content to make my own action,; for him the isolation was a mixed blessing. Lambs, lead mines or soaring Victorian viaducts for him have a passing interest. Kendal Mint Cake though appears to have the insane obsessive hold it did on me.<br />
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We need to show our children what it was that inspired and moulded us, if it was good, wholesome and as Paul puts it in Philippians, 'of good report'. For good or ill, our children watch us, note the effect of places, people and experiences on us. Even adolescent children, whilst apparently rejecting, criticizing or ignoring us, are still actually looking for direction. We may think they regard a good walk up Gunnerside Gill in the Yorkshire Dales as a waste of time. We may to them be stuck in the vinyl, 20th century, elderly Volvo estate car mentality; we may think they don't appreciate us or the things we love.<br />
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They will though. It's an act of faith.<br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-35857628801252879032013-03-16T10:00:00.003-07:002013-03-17T09:20:40.417-07:00How Red Noses and Relief are Not Necessarily Comic<br />
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VmHCdKznOq9Tn3VpSjE9Iyao4UXm2rCJjo0d1cTficeVEqjRTL8YOWzfaYre00OnCCyyKi6jwjmau1zX4TDK/pReMGiOzs6svobbEcQZHxCg+pJ2NRfdZ0Oz2PxOPbdw9JmA0Zz0aafzOdL9gueySd9bpZyNWtZ6aHoWS7DqCDiX325pTuqd296Tf0znV9rTlpTWPi9X9P1NtGz3dZvPy0OizXZ3D1aXmWpIUGoAAuGH4gfW7ZyZ1JTeZPJvjpwPL9pdkzTuKa1K9IAlqbi9RVA1NN/x2t6LankeUySorOY6M307uSWJ6r1/n+6nCVclw71EFCsWLkdD0gqni99Dp1HibDSSpym9JL8wrxpR1jLLfBfueq7K7LiiiqisWJu28trjhq19fgNLAAaS8yNnfYekKa2tYDkOf/OqMrY1JCRwtck68gdY8iNBAI3SARaxB1BHaOcFLDyDQMqbN4U6jD0lPWqKPgBNUb2svxvzZFRiuMU/yRjxmVYan6aKt+BsQD4ia6VxcT+62xy7pFe0kjBWyzBN+JR/1CPmZb3m7jy9CKjYy5rz/kx1dj8K/oufB1PzjW07qPFehcra1fB+pnfyfUjwqP8A0n6SxbZrLjFepLuVF8G/Qz1PJ6vKp7UH3lq22+cfUXcIcpehnq+T08nQ96EfWWLbcOcX5i8P6S9DOfJ8/wDhHxYfSXLbFF8n6fUjLZ8+TRcmwTj8KHub7iHitF9fIolYVPgJ9jH/ACr9xX7yS2lRf4ip2M1yB+K2Pqfkt7AZbG+ov8SI9xqe6AsZsk/5dQf5G+0s7S3n+JeYd0qL8L8gPiNlSOIYd4IlTs7afP1Jbk48gQcpqgX3Z5jtYmTvdJvGTGykGxly1NCaeqGEMDOp2frLuqh5sL919ZWk1JyOa6DqXUM8Mop8oWa+cqJTB6KC+nWdB7Bf2znUKb3nNnrtpV01GmuC1ORtNO6zlDqJOEG2Js7jY7K94gkT0ttDsqWWca4n2k8Ho1OjurIuWWRRz20GNCgzVTWFlkJvXCPN82xu8TOVfXWdEdC2obqywUTOLJ5NyPWdivJEKtIV8c7oDustCnZXAIDAVWYGxII6IFxfjfQUuZYonseX4CnRprRootOmo6KILAfcnmTqZBsmlgvotYXNhbr0iGQq5nT3lG9xJHBtbDW2msTGjHjczChiAbAMSLAlrDqJtIjPPdmctoYk1aj01U/ptRl3FCFUw9R9ymT31Lm3HUHTSPOBLU9JoY9LWtYdSiMC5sxXgAfgPrACD5kvU3sH3gGCCZgtr2YDw+8ALKOORjYML9tx848hgtxCqylXAKkag8Pbyk4VJReUyudOM1ho8L23zN8DimosCyEB6T39JG4X7QQQe6/Od2nfRlFNrXmcCrsf2niWgKw23QHFT7LyxXdN8SnwurH7sjS23wPX8RLVWoPmWwsay+8/IdNuf77juZh9Y27d9CTtq0V7MpebCmD2xZuFd/fJ+cj2FGb0ijLKrtClwnLzD2A2jc/2reO6fpG7GHu/qWU9q3nCU36fQJLtMw/tB4hZW7GPumiO1rj3vRBDBbVA8WQ/875ROw6JmiO0qz44NGL2lUC/QPjK4WLfUs8UqRWcIDttev5anuf/AEk3s5+96Fa+0co6Sh5MgdrKZ4028CDI+HT5SRsp/aaj+KL9DksQFCmYJxSR4im5OR5/jaReqd0c5Om92Op6mjNQpreNdDI2tdpF1+hRO+jwRuwGWebcHv8AlHCtmMjTs+5VS5ijms6e9Z+/6CU037J2Lv8A1mYpYZjZleHLuBN1lSc5me4qbkGz2XZnK9ymNNbTrXFTHso5NNc3zN2aVwikmQox3mTk8I8q2lzbeYgGSvLhU47qLbWi5PeZyzNeednNyZ1UsHZ+THZwYis2IrKTQw1nsQd2pV4oh6wLFiO7rmecsFsI5PeamPc0SUUhyPOMLbxBbWx5AcvCVFpHAGs6KW3vRO9+EX+GkQFuAyxrtcqLnjqbWtoOEALnyFN9X3nJANiSvPkBuxYDJbUwNFQWZb2BYks3jzgGTmvJrgFbLqFSogL1TWrkn/FrOw+G7HLiKPA6k5dTHAbv8rMPgDAZW2HpIjO9woFyxZ9B7flBAwbisfh0ZVqGpSNQHzfnd+mH3bbwBbgekvpW4x4DJtfLl3ejcHvLDxB+logBn6C4a6shaxG7qu8OZ56xEh8NRqlyrDcF9N49HQDgAddbxkQN5S9jTi8IfNktiKN6lPQdMW6dMcxccO0LLYT3WVzWUfOgM1JlQ8kInSp3NhLqVNzeERlJJZZ0+TZXzM9Db26pxOXWrb7DxUKJq4lOEBMzzK3AyitWjTRZTpbzAFTM6l+i7DxnFrXs2/ZZ0I28MaoY5vW/MbxMo79W6ku7UuhNM5rD8UFd1WVuyovkFcrx9dzxnTtlUqay4GKvbUY6JB7NsUT0V5zzLll6nLtqSXtSKsDl+6L2kJTcida439DaXkUzPum3BZc1XpKBZeNza5I0AijU3cp8zubAtpzr9rj2Y8TzPOltXqDhZrWPEEcQZfS1iju3eO2lj+6GOXpGY7jyfZPvtvEaCd21j2VLefFnKup7891cj1koEXwmfLnIhjCPOdts9AuoM3ymqFPL4kadN1Z45Hm9aqWNzPO1qznLLOxCCisIngMG9aqlKkpapUYIijmzGw8O2UNosSPp7ZvZ1MLhEwiKGUfxX4b7nWo/XqeHUABymVvLL4rAZoUwabAAKCTwHxsIIY+V+iR1EiDAvpCzEeIgImzcezXw5wGc/t7jfM5di3Bsf0eooPUai+bUjxcQXET4G/ZnB+ZwmHpfl0KSHvWmAfjeHMFwCLj2f80gMwZxh2qUXRLb1gVB0BZGDqD1AlQPGAjj9sQcXiMCtEE3GKFQHQ0lq0/N1DUHIqbadYklogO5fQez5yIAPGD95Ttxs59hX7yJNBSoN9CR6Sk/CMRdSqXUEm2mp6rc5JCxqfP3lZyXDJiTWwlRGWoSa1NNVp1L6spGm63VyN+sAXW9SM5biepZXsbinT7WUGo/H+5OBVSTaa4xk5bqMLeFlnV7P5ITZiJ6K1t1Sjl8TlV6zm8LgdYcGEQEsoHA8yo6yolNxtWhRlKDftRWcdfh8zRQ2ZXqxjJLCfP9zn9rA9EBrh6b6LUXhfjusPwt2Ht6jKqe2KVWnmOj6Msq7MqUZYnqupxr1Gc8ySbADUk9QE51S4lVeWXQpqOiHxeDqUiBVR0JFwHUqSOsXmfKfBlri1xRniEFMoytqjDTSdWys3L2pcDJXr7ui4nfZdla011nYzjRHP1erA+UrvDfPEzw1XR4Mly917iD1MC0tilg5ks5LKeGEe5FEJVGTwmLd2qKhVaNF1XeOgB3TvsT2n6Tnz9rLyfUNn01b0KMIRzmOrXXCefzOV28yUMf03Dnfo1CFqkabtUdEm3NWtx679Ymu1qcjPe0XGW91OSwdEu4UczOpbw7Wokc6rPci5M952PyYUaK6a21nQuqqzuR4I5dOLerMm2mdCih115SdtBRW/LghSzJ7sTxPMcaajliZyry6dWfwOpQoqnHBjmEvO68mOLTB1xiq1Pf6LIlrbybws1RR12uLG2hPXMtxW3JKJ3Nn7Id1byq5w84X5ccnteCz9cRutRIZLi5HLnZhyPYYlJPgYqtCdJ7s1hhChmSrvlyqU0Bu7MAL3sNTDeS4kI05TajFZb5IEVNu8FSL2qNU4m1NGOvYzWX4yDuKa5nRp7EvJ4zHHza/l+gBx/lQO9ejQA0sDVf/wBV+8pd17qOlT+zqSzVqeS/d/QEt5U8Tz/Rh/lb2enEq1Z8I+jLHsrZseNX/tH6ALajbivi6IoO1LzdSpTDKijUI6vqSSbXUSynUqZbksYT5Ga5sLGKhGlLecpRX3k9M68PgEqnlExtz++Qa/l0/qJT2tX+o6K2Vs5cf/b+Syl5R8b+ZTb/AKafS0O3qrj+geD2Evu+kjfhvKdiB/EpUXHZvofmflGrqXNFc/s7Qf3ZSXk/obcP5Sqe8WbC7rNbfZHUlraC91BOnWZNXXVGWf2cl+CovzWP3Z0WV7b4Ot0fOGkx5VhuDj69yvxlsLiEjnXGxrujru7y/wCOvpx9CWZ1f31Mrqvm3sRqDdhwMsbOek1ozPidqKWEW9Y33h0UGruba2H1Okg6iitTRQs6lxLdh58keYbS7XVK/wDEbcpA9GkCbePrt2n4TLmdZ4X9+Z6ihTtNm0+0m9evN/BL6fmchi86BBCrcEWJb7CaqNq4SUm+HQ5N79oFVhKnTho9Pa+if7mnZTLkrVD/AHbEjqB6p6rZjpy3pfiR4q8ckklwZ6GtNaYCi1zYCdCtV3ISqS4JNmWhT36kYLi2B2rneL3YqGs6niDbW68x2dR0ngpVHUeZtt9Xz+f90PdYVNYgkl0X7f3X5mmpXomk4pqHoNpWonVUvwdDx3b9Xo6EacIxbi8oUoqccS1Oaq4ellx3gTUdhvU2IsAhJAF+vTW3wmmUp1vZXAy04UrZOctWAM8zyrimU1DogIQdV+PtsPZNlCiqawjn3Fw60s4wi7Ickasw00nZtLLPtz4HMr3G77MeJ6PgssSgnLQTq72dEYfizm8/2gC3VTFVrQoxy+JOnSlN/AG5ZinQWYEDunkasE3lFNxShN5TCtPOlGkioywYpWUnqbaGOZ+HCVTbXEzzoRhxLMfdmWigIo2FXFMug9EXu/IlQBbtmR4yfRdmbzs6Tl7q8uXoDs4z93bzGGTeQoUChf3YUgodOFuOvZJ04vO83g01qns9nGOWynYbKaYxRFapSUpTFTpuqLbnq9tRzH0noLC5pxhKXPgebvreopKB6tVzugKBelVp1FXQlGDAEcjbgZbRpurMxT9hYPDdrM9bEVTr0QdIr+5X+lDgjTa0MLflxYAM5LZtJLYanwHX/pI5A04bH1FOmoPEcpVUpxqfeRttL6tav/Lej4rk/wC9ToMh2kejUDUmKPwKn0WHqsOY49sxypTp6o71O9t71dnUWH/eDCmfbYVHpgVd22/vhFFgXsekSbnS5HjFGEqzw9Ei2Va32XHfgnKctFl8vp6s5etm1U8wt+ofUzXG1pR5Z+Zx623L2p+Ld+S/d5fqY8RWY8ST3m8uSUeCOZUqzqPM5N/N5/UrB0kslWEV34yPMeBAQFge9oxl9PEuODMPEyLhCXFI0U7uvT+5OS/Nminm9Ucw3eB9JTK2pPkb6W3b2HGWfml+2H6m2hngPpLbu+xlErL3X5nVofaVf+WGPjH6P6mo51ulDTqshv8AhZksD18OqVxoVIZ0L7naVncbjynrrlY88mfM84LMXdzUcgC5be4cLnkJKFGUuJnr7QoW8cU8Pol+4CrVmc3J/wBO6bYQUViJ5qvcVK89+o8v+8CK36x7BJ5ZSa8uzJ6Dh6ZAYAjgLEHiCOYl9KvKlLejxITpxmsMI5ptHUq2IuvA9xHV4zqV9oqdLdisZWpmo23Zz3s8OAQw2ONRQ6X3iN2qBzI1t8SRPLzhuvHLkemo1e1jv8+YRwDGletTN0H8WkdbKeJ7VN/DWRzktaxxB23mY06nmko+gF31GvRDgdHXloZutIcWc2+mtInV+TTyWLi6K4jEMwVtUVdNOsntnTdSFvjTMuPwRx251G1HRI7PPtmKOXUw6HoajpAXBAvx5zdaXk7mW61gzVqHZa5zk8m2m2rLkrTOnC8017uFBbsdWOlbuesuBx9SoWNyZw6laVR5kb4xUVhHsJwSW4CY9xYPAdtNPiA62UqX6IlaqNaHShdyUNQzgctCiWRhnVnPrXLkVbQBPNbtSoadL0mCAXdrgAFu7r6jKLinj2onsvspf79OVvP8OqeeT4r8n+pwWb5sbBaRC0yLAA3bdToi55DjbuMhSpJ6yPRXN046UwItXpG+txqTNcZbvA5kva1ZZSxJVuiSLix149h65ZCtKEsxeCLipLDFUorxBtfkdbHqkpbr1EslfmR63humV7sevoPUgzfID2StskN55uuLIFe9EBpwybxF+AFzJJDzksrOL3jER3bm5gBFowK2kAGItDgBYNRJcgIoYkA4MYETEAnNxB6gVGRAQgA+7ABx2RoCym2sknqBqyzMfNF9LhgBx1BBuCPj7ZTUhvF9vW7KTZrr7RVGfeFluu6wGgfjct33ijSSL53rfAF1KpY3bUzbSwlgwyk5PLPePJj5TcFRwNLD4l/NVaIK6qd11B6LBhpwIBB6pZOjKtLeTXLi8FCfZp6Z15fE5nyueUanjFShhSTTUlnfhvG1gB2amX02rWLw8yemnIgouo8yWiPKrzI5ZNGBQA9lrVuQmeU86Hz2MObJ0KIGvOEIYIzm3oaRLclLMOZhSGDAEFCCCAQdQdQe6Rq/6bPWfZOKdzLPu/ujx2uOk1uG8be02la4I9FPG88FYjIj9UAJK/XHkBMYMCF5EBhABQA0YR7XB5yUQLHpi8lgB6oAHaYAUbpiAiZFgTAuI1qAyGCATCxg+IDPBgRLxZAgTEA0AJ2gAgIAK8AEDABjABKI0gJSxPAhXkt9hgUjnICEAHkgPVsqbe1MzRWp4a5W7oguDLjA0S3oxYBuY1xZ+dl+8hWf+Ue0+yMMVJy+CPIWfU9pguB1m8tsYwAYtEAwMQCJjAUQCgArR4A0YJLuBJJAasQRfuGvbJMDJUuTeQeoDKbQyAmGsHxAYNDIEiOYjwBK1xDiAwQjuhgBGmI8ICmotjINAREEA8YCtABRANaGAFaGAJCSSAUYCgAoAIQAcSSEeoZa+6JmbwzxVeO8zdVzEKNZNSzwM0bZyegEzDaYDReMvhRlLidKhsxvWQskxPnkrFjqV09hl87XfjGCPUbKjG2jNo5UZF2zqeEQ6mLv/wACX6i7Y/CKfUXf/gL9Q9sPCKfUO/C/UPbDwikPvz6COQdsT2RT6sFfPoV/s+1/SFu7WUeDvP3tPlqWO9WOBaMhHXNC2VSRDvkmP+oR1x+F0g75IHVgKbkLrbQnt5gTj3UacKm7Dlx+ZtpSlKOZFJN7mZiwiIgJFowIGIBEwAQaACDwyA7NHkBKYAUNxkQC+Q5YKocngN0Dxvf6TrbLtYVt5zXDH7ma4quGMBGps+onTls6h0KFcTI/qFZHw6j0H28i9dnEly2db+6QdxMf9nEj8Ot/dF3iY/7NpDw6390feJ9Rjs4kPDrf3Q7xMidnkh4db+6PvEyqrkKiVz2dR5Ikq8ik5Ksp8PpdCfbSEMmWNbPpdBOtIc5Msl4fS6B28gphM0txnArUcvKOTVtcmfNMyuLCFGjrllttbYeWU5bklStqNB1mXzrRjoiy4vadHTmdnstswWFVN8AgcbX4jqgrzclGWDp7Kh32jOSeOQQXYJvz19w//U3Pba9z1/gu/wAOv/c/6/yWjYE/nj/t/wC6Lxxe56/wNfZ5f7np/IhsH/jf0f7ovG/+Hr/BP/D0edT0/kf9gv8AG/oH3i8bfueo/wDD8PffkIbCD84+6PvF40/c9SfgEPffkhxsGv5ze6PvI+NS9xeYeAU/ffkif7BJ+c3sWLxqfuL1H4FS9+XoDdptl0wuFrV/OsSidEELYsSFX4kRPbFRrCivUjU2NRpxc956fL6HkM5ZSNEA94wEDAB7wAUAImIByIwEj9cEwLS4ksgZmNzIAer+TTZqlUwfnajEF6j2sQOitlHxDTda3tShFxguJqpWNKvHennzOqfY/Deu3vj7S6W1bjovIuWyrZdfMb9jMN67++PtI+K3HReQeF23x8y0bJ4Yab7e+PtLFta46LyI+FW3x8x/2Tw3rt74+0PFrjovIPCbf4+Yv2Uw3rt74+0PF7jovIXhVv8AHzGOyuF9dvfH2h4tcdF5EvCrb4+ZX+yuF9dvfH2h4tcY4LyDwm3+PmQfZPCeu3vr9pB7WuXyXkNbKtvj5lB2Own5j++v2lfilz0XkS8Lt/j5kDsjhB/aP76/aNbUuei8h+F23x8xjsphPzH99ftH4pc9F5B4VbdX5nj6VbyMZZONKmjotm8mFU778JVWqtPdRwtoXvZezE7nD0AgsBaUJYPNVKjm8sqwbuGqlbgcLg25STnCLjvH0L7MQl3SWOb+haKtT1294/eWd4o9Eeh7Gp1JCpU9d/eP3h3ml0QdjU6kg7+s3vGHeaXQfYT6krv6ze8Yd6p9BdhPqLdf1m9ph3qn0F2E+o5RvWPtMfeodB93l1G82es+0w73HoHd31AW29A/oVXU6bhPcKiyE7hTW6U3Nu402zyu8oycoV4ZAaACEAHgBJTGBEmAEljQCcQYFRkQGgB7Zs3gAmFoKRr5pCe9hvH4kyyNy4rCOzSoLcWegS/RxB3cy3sIjHDiR73MfYxH8wId7mHYxImiIu9zH2ERvMiHeph2MSJoiLvUw7GJW1EQd1MkqMSBpCR71MfYxItSEXeZ9Q7KJU1MRO4n1H2USJpiLvE+pLsonkFBtZupyPLT4HpezTgUwB1SmT9o8XtBN1G2HN+BzcEMuq9GoORb7TNdLVH1H7MRxZL5suEznoyawAmICJgRiySAk0hNkWEkA1oAZs2w6vQqqw0NN7+6TfwIjXEqrYcGn0PExTM0YPOFZiAUAGvACV4AKMBjEArwAiTABjADdkWB8/iKVLk7qG/lGr/0gxPgWUYb81E91USo9ATtAjkVogyK0B5IOImhplYgkNiIhgSZU6xYGmVNDBLJGIGyFoEclbwwTTPGaZm+m9TyzOmyTO/NCzaiXSo72qOJeWPaPKCmJ2rFuiJFW8m9TFT2S8+0H9nqxNG5/Eb/ABmO8SVTB73Y9LsrZRCgMyHWJqZLAsliwwJssvJERb0MghxDeJEgIbxBsrxVHfR0vbeVlv1bwIv8ZJSITWU0eMZjh3osabqVYXGoIBtoSpPpDtE17yeqPPyhKDxJA5pFkSBiAaAD3iAcGMBGAEYAKADRAdn5MMu38Q1Ujo0kNjy330Av/Lve0SM3hG2xhme90PUZVk6wt6GRYFeGQEWiyBBjDeGV3jyMW9FliIM0MgVMYEkVs0CQ0aRBkXtHgEzxVZpjxPNs10zN0GUzRMcZcVs9UylbYSl4fKcG5f8AnM9RY6UY/I0KZUjWWgyYixGkRMlvQER3oDRYGgJsmGgRJgyQmcD5Tzd6QPAIxHXdmAP/AIiX0uDOXfvWKPPnFpNmAiIAPaAD8ogGjAa8QDXgAoAHti8GlXF06dVQ6OKgIN+VNmBFjxuohLgX28VKokz2HA4KnRQJSUIg4KOGvE9pmd6nYjFRWEaCIEiNpIY0CLImRY0yLRDyVsYDGJgIrJgMqcwGitmgSGDSaIsZmjEf/9k=" 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" /><br />
<br />
Comic Relief's 25th Anniversary was made much of, and rightly so for the most part. It's power to reach the whole nation, to make us support such a good cause is wonderful. Cheesy, clunky and sometimes just cringemaking, it is fast becoming a National Treasure.<br />
<br />
So why on earth do I feel an uneasy disquiet over the whole 'shabang'?<br />
<br />
It was Victor's death which completely floored me. As his corpse was carried, wrapped in a towel to the hospital laundry because his parents could not afford to have him placed in the mortuary, I just could not get the distraught, grief stricken faces of his parents from my mind.<br />
<br />
Then the BBC producers cut back to... the inane, supercilious, smirking Michael MacIntyre..<br />
Ugh.<br />
<br />
In Shakespeare's Macbeth, the scene directly following the murder of Duncan and the Macbeths washing their hands of blood, the Porter wanders in jangling his keys to open the door, which is being hit hard by the arriving Macduff, whilst making crude cracks about coitus and drunkenness. Somehow it lifts the mood and helps us to shift our perspective to how regicide will or will not be discovered.. and it's a play. Only our willing suspension of disbelief keeps us horrified. When the curtain falls, we can all go home, knowing that the Bard has only 'held a mirror up to nature.'<br />
<br />
But Michael flippin' MacIntyre..<br />
<br />
This is where Comic Relief's wheels fall off. Badly. It becomes TRAGIC RELIEF, interspersed by moments of comic inanity, entertainment which, if we're brutally honest, often fails to relieve anything at all.<br />
<br />
Bob Geldof's Live Aid was another, possibly the first ever, attempt to raise huge sums via a telethon, and his passion was indisputable. It also helped relieve famine. Only one thing jarred: The Cars' song 'Who's going to drive you home' being used as a soundtrack to film footage of starving children. Incongruous, inept, inapt.<br />
<br />
It was left to James Corden, in the role of 'Smithy', to bring a little common sense and perspective with his improvised monologue, reminding us what we were up to and why were we doing it. At least he recognized that we can slob on our soft sofas being soft, warm, and inured from harm or trouble whilst watching intolerable suffering. Yet he also, wonderfully, recognized the many people, who even though they are struggling financially themselves,still dig deep. Like the widow's two farthings, they epitomize the heart of charitable giving. The rich meanwhile, even if they give thousands,barely feel it. They should end up like the exiled King Lear in the storm, who only when exposed to the horrors of homelessness in the storm, cries out 'O, I have taken too little care o' this'.<br />
<br />
Rowan Atkinson's impression of the Archbishop of Canterbury was also a depressingly predictable side swipe at the church, if not its founder. I winced at his cheap 'shagging' joke, and other cheap, crude jibes which somehow slipped in before the watershed. I can't help thinking Justin Welby would have been been wittier, somehow.<br />
<br />
The concept behind Comic Relief is essentially laudable, the vast sums of money raised testify to this, yet it's the not knowing whether to laugh or cry that mystifies me. I have just been moved to weep when I am expected to guffaw. Those extremes are too much. Mixing it causes emotional trauma. Strangely though, it does reflect the human condition and its dilemma. It is laughter and humour which often makes suffering bearable, it lifts us above the dark horrors of war, disease and death.<br />
<br />
So, can we mix it up, or should we allow thoughtful, reflective pauses, before letting the comics loose?<br />
<br />
<br />
I reckon so.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-69940593381085949822013-02-19T13:28:00.003-08:002013-03-05T12:19:38.243-08:00Turner vs Rothko ft Transformed Visions<br />
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<a href="http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/turner/i/norham-castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>I don't get Surrealism. I get Turner. So on my visit from Tate to Tate I found myself thinking this way: what has happened to art in the last hundred years? The twentieth century was a turbulent one with all kinds of stuff happening, and the art seems to reflect the myriad fragmentation of an age where no one seems to know exactly what is 'real' any more This is not to say I don't like the Surrealists. I do. They provoke, stimulate and challenge, but whether or not they say anything really powerful about the world I'm not sure.</div>
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Look at Norham Castle by Turner; a dark, murky but definable Stygian castle emerges from the mist, with a cow floating gently if slightly surrealistically on the water. Now cast your eyes across the Rothko's 'Red', with a white stripe across the middle. What exactly am I to make of this? There is little to say about it. it is eye catching, it does make me think of one of those signal lights they use on railways.Turner though, has me utterly entranced. The scene oozes calm serenity, mystery, a trace of the Gothic. Sunlight shimmers, water glistens, time seems suspended, as though the true view will soon resolve itself in to a clear definition. Rothko's though, just makes me go blank. I gaze at the white strip of light in vain. I know it's not a landscape, more a concept, but even Roger Dean's Yes album covers make more sense than this.</div>
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I did History of Art at uni for a few terms I used to think I knew about Art. It inspired me to travel to Italy and get caught up in the spirit of the Renaissance. I went weak at the knees looking at Titian, Raphael et al. I loved the Impressionists, even grasped Bauhaus and modern architecture. Yet today has had me redrawing, recalibrating all I thought I ever knew. Art seems to be spiralling to oblivion. I fear that next time I will walk in to a room at the Tate Modern, see four white walls and a floor, with a little explanatory plaque, simply entitled: 'ROOM'. The space I am inhabiting will be the art, or by being in the room I will be interacting with the 'work of art' in a real or surreal way. Bah.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turner: Death on a Pale Horse(?)</td></tr>
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Paul in 1 Corinthians talks about seeing through a glass darkly, but then, face to face. I'm going to keep wrestling with Surrealist art, I know abstract concepts can speak volumes. But I am going to leave you with a Turner painting that makes anything you see in Tate Modern look a bit tame. It's not even known what Turner called it. It got given the title 'Death on a Pale Horse (?). Love the question mark. Utterly Grotesque, Gothic and terrifying, it has strong apocalyptic overtones. Turner lets us envision the end of time itself.A Judgement from which we cannot escape. To me the artists of the Twentieth Century reflect a world which slowly but surely moves towards the Appointed Time. Whether they know it, or not.<br />
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The Poet Edwin Brock in his poem '5 Ways to Kill a Man concludes with these lines:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">These are, as I began, cumbersome ways </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">to kill a man.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;"> Simpler, direct, and much more neat</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">of the twentieth century, and leave him there.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">The Apocalypse won't be Surreal. it will be Cosmic.The Image of the Invisible God will be seen by all. And we will have to bow before him. </span></span></div>
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-36284456492153276672013-01-26T12:00:00.000-08:002013-01-26T12:13:18.608-08:00Of Snow, Skis and Snowmen<br />
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It all started at Decathlon, the boys youth group which meets bi monthly in The Old Stables when the morning service is on in church. Last minute thing: I decided to take along a pair of ancient Bonna Norwegian cross country skis first used in Oslo in 1966 by my family and last used sometime in the mid 1970's in Haslemere, Surrey. So we had a Winter Olympics thing going on, we raced the wooden sledge like a toboggan team, and experimented with the skis indoors with varying degrees of success. We had been talking about Jesus' first miracle, water into wine, and afterwards I looked at my museum relics wistfully as I stacked them in the hall next to my walking boots. Inspiration dawned. A miracle. The back of the boots had a groove which might just fit the bindings. Could these dry skis live? Could I actually ski once more on these museum pieces?<br />
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Minutes later, clad in a Norwegian jumper and bobble hat it was 1967 all over again. I skiied out of our drive and ventured down Hardwick Rd to Bozedown Hill. Surprised motorists slowed to make amusing observations especially as they noticed the skis were not exactly contemporary. Up on Bozedown Hill I climbed herring bone style half way up and turned precariously to descend, avoiding the many children on plastic trays hurtling recklessly past. I gathered speed, the skis sticking slightly. Gradually I snowploughed then bent my knees in to a crouch and, gathering speed, swept smoothly if a little inelegantly past more bemused families.</div>
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When I finally reached home, a wan sun was setting on an icy evening, reminiscent of those cold short winter days in Oslo. My whole body was aching. Turns out that Cross Country skiers have the highest V02 uptake of any sport. Well I'd gone to the limit and beyond. I would pay for it the whole of the following week..</div>
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And that weekend too I had joined my children in the garden making a snow man, complete with top hat, large pink potato for a nose, and snow dog. It's still there, thawing into an amorphous, sad icy lump.</div>
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The snow had provided a series of wonderful, unexpected challenges. From driving slowly home on the snowy Friday on quiet roads, and sliding gently but triumphantly and safely down Whitchurch Hill in my elderly Volvo estate, to skiing, to a fun youth group, to sculpting snowmen: snow does change the way you do things and it gets strangers sharing, chatting helping.</div>
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Which is all my way of saying: LET IT SNOW LET IT SNOW. Lots, at least once in a winter. We'd be all the poorer without it.</div>
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Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1709380869854026697.post-89254568298387988632012-12-30T10:29:00.002-08:002013-01-01T11:51:07.760-08:00Ring Out Wild Bagginses,Spies and Fantasies<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Those lazy crazy days after Boxing Day before New Year's Eve are a black hole, where we can disappear for a time into a Middle Earth of different adventures or strange possibilities Time passes in waves of innovative turkey dishes, Christmas cake, port, winter rambles, cups of tea, DVDs and telly, afternoon naps and excursions to the theatre, cinema or the sales. Morning routines are relaxed, breakfast seems to be eaten throughout the long forenoon, and instead of faffing about on Twitface or Terbook I lose myself in the dark wanderings of Mr Bilbo Baggins.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Tolkien knew a thing or two about viewing the world in mystical manner. Not for him the cold realities of a concrete pavement, a world dominated by rush, consumerism or technology. Instead we are taken from a hobbit hole across mountains, magical woods, to encounter giants, evil goblins, slavering wargs and, of course a stonkingly huge, fire breathing gold loving dragon who has just one weak spot, spotted by Bilbo, then unexpectedly felled by Bard, the grim man of Eagoroth, with his Black Arrow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The story ends with a quite overwhelmingly brutal battle, the death of Thorin Oakenshield, before Bilbo finally wends his weary way back home, to find his possessions being auctioned off by his family, who assume him to be dead. Ever after, though alive he is deemed 'queer' by his hobbit neighbours because of his strange travels and deeds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And those odd non-scaled topographical maps, with their strange runes and artistry, like the cover of some Prog rock album by Roger Dean, drip with adventure, danger and mystery. Tolkien's world is a bit like Mirkwood itself. If you leave the path, expect to be trapped and bewildered by an array of enchantments, and for goodness sake don't fall in the river or your dreams will be beautiful but you may never wake up.</span><br />
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" 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" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://www.jonathandanz.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/HobbitMap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Another wonderfully retro TV treat this Christmas was William Boyd's Restless. The intrigue, and revelation of a dark secret by a mother to her daughter of her spying past in world war two was utterly engrossing. The final denouement was unsettling, and even the final scene as the elderly woman still gazed into the woods from her garden looking for watchers kept me on tenterhooks. Boyd's novel takes you into the dim twilight world of spies, deception and an altogether different kind of dangers, faced by a resourceful beautiful heroine- Eva Delectorskaya- who by gut and instinct, finally manages to gain revenge on the man who loved her, then tried to kill her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Surround yourself with Tolkien and every winter ramble through the woods turns strangely into an adventure.Gnarled twisted trees, circling birds, gloomy woodland paths make you interpret the world differently. You wonder if there is some symbolic strange meaning in every whisper of the breeze. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Restless will have you observing every single detail of every person on the train, eavesdropping on conversations, looking surreptitiously at mobile screens not your own, glancing over your shoulder, wondering if you are being followed. The outside world becomes sinister, untrustworthy, full of espionage. You even want to light up a cigarette, wear a homburg hat and a double breasted serge suit, but then although you look the part, perhaps you might, like Bilbo, be seen as a bit 'queer'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So in these dark, liminal,twilight netherworld days after Christmas, as the old year sputters with rain, blustery wind and dies reluctantly, it is a time to let literary fantasies linger about you. The cold outside world can be reshaped,re imagined, reworked to operate on your own terms. Technology just can't be topped by imagination. Boyd and Tolkien know that, so do Eva and Bilbo. So should we.</span><br />
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<br />Fulltimeenglishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252014850144136275noreply@blogger.com0