JHW (2)

Just a last look. I know the language is dated and of its time, with rhetorical flourishes uncommon today. And it has very high expectations.  But I have gained much from its seriousness and urgency. 

For example, in an address titled:  'Believing is Seeing ' Jowett reflects on the divine promise given to Abraham, described in Romans 4. How God's call came in such negative circumstances. Common experience was against it. Common sense was against it. But faith is a finer sense than common sense. It's not 'seeing is believing' but 'believing is the only true seeing'! Even when the world around rejects it. Focusing on the verse Rom 4:20 'He staggered not...through unbelief' he talks about our living in circumstances of unbelief.

We have heard the divine word but...common sense is very aggressive, and it rears itself against the promise of our God. Our material setting is unfriendly. Carnal forces are ironical in their easy triumph. And we begin to look foolish in our simple faith. And, God help us! sometimes we begin to feel foolish, and we are tempted to make obeisance to the kingdom of the apparent and to bow down and worship it. Never was there greater need of deep-living men and women who will confront the proud and massed 'unlikelies' with the spoken promise of our God. Never was the need more urgent that we should confirm ourselves in the promise amid the loud and blatant taunt of our foes. We must wear the word of the Lord like an athlete's belt! 'Having your loins gift about with truth!' These are the men and women who remain victors on the field at the end of the long and bloody day. At the beginning of day theirs is the faith which gives substance to things hoped for; at the end of the day the things hoped for have become their eternal possession. 

Yes, God needs deep-living men and women. Elsewhere he also writes about us being people of inclusive sacrifice.

Now this is the secret of the Christian life, to make the inclusive sacrifice. Religious life is inevitably tedious when it consists of a conscious yielding of our small things and a withholding of our central strength. If our self is kept back from the Lord, our religion will be a procession of reluctances and irritations. every circumstance will present a separate problem instead of being caught up in the sweep of a mighty consecration. And that is the trouble with a great many people. They try to be religious in smaller surrenders,  while the great surrender has never been made. And these small surrenders encounter curbs and restraints and the soul is annoyed and discordant. The large surrender brings us into God's large place. We pass into the glorious freedom of God's children and His statutes become our songs. 

So much to ponder from an old preacher. Thank you JHW. 

Where are they going?

To interrupt JHW and answer the query raised by the last post about my books. Well, it's mostly about where my books have gone. A substantial part of my library was left in the US - particularly the  large academic collection extended while teaching there.  Returning to the UK, another very substantial part of my library went to a seminary in India.  I was left with a strange mixture of old theological classics, biographies and those collections of sermons which did not have an immediate appeal.

So I have collections still of  Beecher, Boreham, Brookes, Fosdick, Gossip, Inge, Morrison, Parker (actually an almost complete set of his NT sermon commentary), Shepherd, Stewart, Thielicke, Watson. This isn't a complete list but it gives a good idea of the kind of stuff!

I still have some Spurgeon volumes that I want to go to a good  home!

If this stirs up any interest - please let me know!

Saying Farewell - JHW

 I have mentioned before my highly unfashionable hobby of collecting books of sermons. Preachers, who a few decades ago, drew crowds into disciples, built communities and impacted culture were prolific suppliers of these books.  Because these make for unfashionable reading now, over many years I picked tens of them up in second-hand book shops, often for a few pence each volume. Some sets of volumes have gone to libraries, but I am now left with a considerable number of elderly books destined for recycling. However, before I say sad farewells I thought they deserved some parting attention. 

As with John H Jowett (1863-1923) an English preacher hugely significant in his day with concluding ministries in New York and Westminster Chapel England. You realize how different the world was back then. When he died, the King sent condolences to Jowett's widow.  The browning volume I am saying farewell to is a compilation of the The Best of John Jowett. His sermons remain immensely readable, conversationally delivered with clear organization and key themes running through like the Gospel as comfort, his empathy for those who are suffering (he suffered poor health himself) and above all his conviction of the Gospel as Good News. Let me dip into a couple of sections before I let him go.

In his sermon on The Sufferings of Christ he tackles a much overlooked verse (2 Cor 1:5) 'For as the sufferings of Christ abound unto us, even so our comfort also aboundeth through Christ.'  Let me edit two complementary sections : First a challenge about the dangers of avoiding  suffering.

It is possible to evade a multitude of sorrows by the cultivation of an insignificant life. Shed ambitions in every direction, cut the wings of every soaring purpose, assiduously cultivate a little life. By this means a whole continent of afflictions will be escaped and will remain unknown. Cultivate negations and large tracts of the universe will cease to exist. Cultivate deafness and you are saved from the horrors of discords. Cultivate blindness, and you are saved from the assault of the ugly. Stupefy a sense and you shut out a world...reduce yourself to the smallest compass. And indeed, that is why so many people, and even so many professedly Christian people, get through life so easily...because they have reduced their souls to a minimum. They have cut the sensitive wires which bind the individual to the race, and they are cosily self-contained, and the shuddering sorrow of the world never disturbs their seclusion. . Tiny souls can dodge through life; bigger souls are blocked on every side.

I turn the matter round. I have already said that if we lessened our lives we should lessen our sorrows. It is now needful to add that if we lessen our lives we also lessen our joys. Deaden the sense of hearing and you escape the discords, but you also lose the harmonies. Drug your artistic sense, and you lose the pain of the ugly, but you also lose the inspiration of the lovely. If by the enlargement of my life I let in human sorrow I also let in divine consolation. A big, holy purpose makes me more sensitive towards the sin and hostility of man, but is also makes me more sensitive towards God. If we suffer with Christ, Christ Himself becomes a great reality. When life is a picnic we play with theology...when we suffer with Christ we come to know Christ, to come face to face with reality, and the idle superfluities drop away. Our fellowship in His battles makes us receptive of His peace: 'My peace I give to you.' There is no surer way of becoming sure of Christ than to follow the way of sacrificial life and service.

Some of us know life is not a picnic! But what a challenge: Enlarging my life to let in human sorrow opens up divine consolation. That's stayed with me ever since I first read it.  I don't want to lead an insignificant life and miss out on God's  big holy purpose. Worth pondering, yes? 

A portrait saga

Spurgeon's College hung pictures of past Principals in the main building. In my time they were positioned along an upper corridor, staring down at you.  All painted in oils, one or two really captured their subjects' expression, all dressed in academic robes often set against an impressive background of packed book-shelves.  When the time came for me to leave, the last thing I thought about was my portrait. Actually nobody thought about it. There was no budget nor encouraging discussion. 

It is a strange thing to think about. Pause to ponder how you would like to be portrayed in oils.  Oddly egoistic isn't it? I guess it tests your level of narcissism.  Of course I have some ego but my commitment to push the issue was low.  Crossing the Atlantic to begin a new teaching job near Chicago, meant energy for pursuing this portrait was pushed off the back-burner, stuck firmly behind the stove. But then my successor resurrected the issue and suggested that the era of oils was over. Why not have a photograph instead?  He said he would have his taken as he began his tenure, capturing more youthful looks!  Being Principal can certainly age you.

To play my part in the US I asked a photographer friend to take my portrait. Kindly he agreed and in his studio he snapped me in academic robe against a plain background.  The smallish photo he presented me seemed to do the trick. A year or two later I saw the outcome hanging at Spurgeon's.  Enlarged to fill a frame, approximately sized to accompany earlier oil portraits, it showed a bland standing figure not unlike a full-size passport photo or bus pass.  Too late to think of insisting on a more distinctive head and shoulders portrait in an impressive setting. Too late. 

Why bring this subject up?  Well, in the tragic closure of Spurgeon's College, every item was put in a catalogue for an auction, including the portraits.  I was given the address to send a closed bid for mine! Can you guess my response?  Yes, inaction. The auction came and went and my portrait along with other unsold items was pushed into a side room ready for the skip. And there the story would have finished, except that one of my later successors returned to collect his portrait from this junk room and saw my picture languishing. He asked whether he could take that one too and permission was easily given. Then he emailed me and said could be bring it when he was driving past my house.  Would you believe it? Door-to-door service of something I assumed was dead and buried. He came last week. I really enjoyed seeing him again and having my bland picture reminding me of its saga.

I've attached this poor photograph - strangely, being on its own it doesn't seem such a disappointment and I do look young and I'm smiling! 

 

Stage 5

To round off this little reflection piece: 

You can imagine, as Principal, the Bible remained central to teaching and preaching. I am not sure how to describe Stage 5 (that I am still in). Perhaps it began when I was asked to preach at the International Congress of Preaching in Westminster Chapel, London. I was also asked to speak to a seminar on ‘How I prepare to preach each week’.  I realized that I had never described how I set about listening to Scripture in order to deliver a sermon.  Honestly, what did I actually do?  What had become my habit?  Fully aware of the need to be truthful I constructed for the first time the pattern.  

It began: Prayerfully read the Bible aloud.  Spending quality time with the Bible expects the Lord to speak to us.  Time, patience and prayer, immersing in the text as though you have never heard it before. Just the Bible and you - for you and your listeners! Yes, commentaries are necessary to investigate and check but not at first.

I look back on this occasion as the beginning of my passionate engagement to teach other preachers about preaching. To make a long story short, this blossomed into my next role as C.W. Koller Professor of Preaching at Northern Seminary, Illinois, USA.  Teaching preachers needs oodles of humility and openness to the Holy Spirit. Part of my job involved writing a text book for seminary students. I knew that I needed to provide imagery that described my journey with the Bible and I prayed for a vivid picture that would justice to the principle of immersing into Scripture. Eventually, because of my stress on immersing myself into God’s word I chose the picture of the ‘preaching swim’. I set out the stages of preparation to emphasize the humility and wonder of immersing ourselves in God’s word with its own dynamic and purpose, flowing like a river, into which the listeners would be encouraged to join in too.  My main text (360 degree preaching, Hearing, Speaking and Living the Word, Baker Academic, 2003), describes how God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is involved in the whole process.  How deeply God desires us to learn, grow and be shaped into Christly community by his living word. 

Yes the Bible has been central to my life. Through childhood pictures, Sunday School exams, Teenage conversion and maturing in Bible study, ministry calling and the teaching of preachers. It's been an extraordinary journey. And I'm still on it. 

Inevitably I wonder about your journey with the Bible!  How is it going? 

 

Stage 4

The fourth stage was unexpected and unwanted. I was dead set against following my father into Baptist ministry. I had married and my mind (and my wife's) was far from ministry.  Yet, in our first year of marriage I underwent escalating spiritual tugs pulling me into full-time service. The process was full of checks and cross checks which included a preach in my own church - a large preaching centre in South London.  On the appointed August Sunday, with minimal preaching experience I spoke to the morning congregation. The minimal experience showed! Yet, for the evening sermon my preparation had immersed me for weeks in John 10: 19-20. Really immersed, so that the divided crowd reactions fired a surprising passion to preach. Some were saying he has a demon while others asserted: ‘These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind’ ?  Caught up in Bible’s dynamic as never before, I preached an evangelistic sermon.  In the middle of preaching I had my one and only experience (so far) of God unmistakeably speaking to me. Suddenly, with intensity and stillness, even while I was speaking, I heard another voice: ‘Michael, I call you to preach.’  It was unforgettable and vocation forging in discerning God's call. I kept the experience private for many years but decades later I have become convinced that this experience was truly of God. 

At theological college studying the Bible took prime place. I actually revelled in learning Greek (Hebrew not so much!) and began the vital task of developing a biblical theology that would undergird my ministry.  I mustn’t exaggerate how much I loved the time I was given to listen to God in the text and engage with his message to me. There was much hard work. On ordination, I became a pastor in two churches - Blackburn for seven years and Cambridge for 14 years.  I was forced into the discipline of preaching twice every week and that began a rigorous engagement with Scripture.  How much I needed to grow in my understanding about listening to God in the Bible and then how to apply God's message to the congregation. My own Bible reading was critical and for several years I used a NIV volume setting out reading the whole Bible within two years. I found this was the best way for me to maintain daily discipline. 

I was surprised that, as I grew in experience, the Lord opened up ministry in writing daily Bible readings and notes, including a weekly column for the Baptist Times and youth material for Scripture Union. The Light for my path was deepening a love of sharing the light for others' paths. All an amazing privilege. Growing work with media also focused on sharing Bible messages.  As Free Church Advisor for Anglia ITV I filmed many epilogues. One series that audiences particularly responded to was my retelling of Jesus' parables in contemporary settings before inviting viewers to find the original passage for themselves.  After 21 years in local church ministry I was then appointed as Principal of Spurgeon's College with the daunting responsibility of helping shape men and women in their call to ministry.

Third stage

I think the third stage was kick-started by my mother giving me JB Phillips modern translation of the gospels in paperback.  It was the first time that I read something that was so fresh - I could see and hear Jesus in action. This personal engagement coincided with me joining a group of young people in the church who were older than me - and how serious they were about Jesus!  I began to wake up spiritually, and when I went forward to commit my life to Jesus as Saviour after a baptismal service, I knew the Holy Spirit had made a faith breakthrough.  Jesus was real and when I was baptised, aged 14, it was deeply personal. I had many questions and was particularly concerned my spiritual encounter was not some comfortable family conformity. Now, my engagement with the Bible had desire and hunger to know my Lord better.  Wider implications of Christian discipleship were coming into focus. 

Privileged to belong to a vibrant youth group, I leaned about prayer and studying the Bible with others. Enthusiastically we witnessed in Gloucester city-centre with open-air testimony while handing out tracts. Three of us went into full-time Christian ministry -it was an unusually intense group. I realize that my journey with the Bible owes so much to this grounding with spiritually sensitive friends. Together, we even presumed to lead worship and preach in country churches. The Bible was essential as we wrestled with basic theological questions  At one point, because of atheistic attacks on the resurrection at school, I really had to work and pray. Frank Morrison's Who moved the stone? greatly helped me. The child’s love for a story book had really grown into desire to live with the living Bible. As a teenager I was advised to write on my Bible’s inside cover: ‘This book will keep you from sin. Sin will keep you from this book’.

This third stage of my journey continued through into university.  Again, sharing with Christian friends proved vital to my growing discipleship. Involved with the Christian Union and especially the Baptist student society I found myself thrown into serious bible study in weekly study sessions. How refreshing it was to work with others in preaching teams and on annual Summer missions, based in local churches. What we believed and how we could speak well for Jesus depended on our walk with Jesus and his word. Having thoughtful Christian friends for whom the Bible was the bedrock for faith and action had an impact on my life's direction. 

5 stages

Another little project I have been invited to write is part of the Scripture Union's Light for my Path series. Different writers are asked to write about how the Bible has been significant in their lives with the hope that 'they will enjoy taking part and sharing a bit of your own Bible journey as a blessing to others'. So many possibilities open up about how I might approach this, but I wondered about the different stages along this journey. I think there are going to be five but I am not sure until I've finished..

The Bible has always been in my life. I guess that’s true for all of us fortunate to be nurtured within Christian families. Born into a Baptist minister’s family I reflect back and trace a journey with the Bible that began in my earliest memories. Unsurprisingly, the first stage was bedtime stories with an illustrated Children’s Bible. I still remember some of its pictures alongside great stories.  There were obvious scenes like the animals going into Noah's ark, but I remember best the impact early on when I saw a picture of Jesus with little children.  I could see he was kind and he loved me.  One of my earliest treasures I still possess is my Child's First Prayer Book . Jesus of the gospels was so real to me that I knew I could pour my heart out to him. On one page, with appalling spelling, I asked him to 'help me not dream' because of my dread of nightmares.    

The second stage, as I grew older, was attending Sunday School.  I admit at times it felt a duty and being the minister's son I was expected to set a good example (which I often didn't!). But there's no doubt the classes developed my Bible knowledge . I recall being rewarded with Bible stickers when I repeated memory verses.  Teaching literature was colourful and Summer holiday clubs were a special treat. ( What a vital resource Scripture Union provides at this level). Later, I am not sure at what age I was expected to sit the annual Scripture Examination.  A nationally organized exam, we had to answer questions in an exam setting. Prizes were awarded (I still have my children’s Pilgrim’s Progress).  I also remember rather unedifying competition between different Sunday Schools in our city!  Yet, without a doubt this annual ordeal helped me know the Scriptures in more depth. I had definitely developed knowledge but there was no personal connection yet with the Lord as Saviour.  As is often said, you really need to meet the author!  That didn't happen until the third stage but I look back on my childhood and early youth as critically important years of being grounded in God's word. I am so grateful for all the teachers and materials that influenced my journey.

 

Deadlines..huh

I managed to send my completed Encounter bible notes to my editor yesterday!  So having a deadline did concentrate the mind. I found, as I have experienced before, that when you prayerfully open Scripture intent on hearing a fresh word, fresh spiritual things happen to me. At several points I was ministered to even while I was seeking to minister to others.

For example, and it was a surprise, I was reading the last section of Philippians (4: 10-23). Right at its heart one serene claims shines out of these verses. You should have no difficulty imagining how difficult and frustrating Paul's life in prison. Earlier in the letter he writes about facing an unknown future and being harmed by jealous preachers. He has lacked basic needs. Hunger and want have stalked him and he has been let down by all the churches except the Philippians. (That's why he is especially grateful to them in this letter). It sounds like he has much to be discontented about!  Discontentment is defined 'as a lack of satisfaction with one's possessions, status or situation.' That would seem to sum up Paul's condition.

Yet he can make the claim that he has learned the secret of being content in any and every situation (verse 12).  Can he really claim this? We can only begin to understand his experience when we see he describes it as a secret. It is only disclosed to those who depend completely on a rich relationship with Jesus. Only by knowing Jesus as Lord and Saviour, belonging to him completely, can there be the genuine possibility of contentment. Paul is given strength to live positively (verse 13) and because belonging to Jesus also means belonging to his family of believers the practical care of the Philippian church has particularly brought comfort.  Their generosity and kindness has kept his discomfort to a minimum. 

This strength that allows contentment is peculiar to the Christian faith. You cannot underestimate the 'satisfaction' of belonging to Jesus and an active Christian family. While I was writing this down I was struck by the relevance of this claim to my own situation. ( As an author you are warned to be careful about making too many personal points!)  But I had to add that in my situation my wife is bedridden with me attempting to cope as a sole carer. Yet I can testify that the love and practical care of my local church with worship and prayer has brought a real measure of contentment. I am only in the foothills of experiencing the height of being content in any and every situation but I commit myself to learning more of the secret of being content in Jesus.  

Deadlines

I may have mentioned before that my London journalist son extols the value of deadlines. 'They are the journalist's best friend', he claims. Their clarity gives end-points and provides motivation. I know as a student I didn't always appreciate end-points and they tended to provide panic! Two weeks ago I  received a contract for writing my bible reading notes declaring the deadline was 1 September 2025.  Now that caused surprised panic. Owing to Carol's downturn in health this commission had somewhat shuffled off my working agenda. Though, mercifully, Sept. 1 proved to be a mistake, the deadline remains only a few weeks away. So, clarity and motivation!

I wrote (Aug 6 post) that my notes are for Christmas 2026 focusing on Paul's letter to the Philippians. So I am seeking to immerse in Philippians at the same time as picturing the experience of the busy days leading up to Christmas. I wonder if, within the Christmas churn, Paul's letter can be heard afresh. Are there particular challenges to which the Spirit seeks to alert me?  

One thing struck me as I read the opening verses (Phil 1: 1-11). After conventional greetings we plunge into an affectionate thanksgiving for this young church. (So much of this letter is affectionate and personable). I have read this opening section many times but never at Christmas. You know what struck me?  The astonishing fact that this letter is written by less than 70 years after the Christmas events.  Too often the baby in a manger is worshipped in a holy bubble forgetting how this birth begins a fast moving explosive story of world transformation. Paul himself, writing under house arrest, probably in Rome around AD 61 is part of this transformation. Once a proud, zealous Pharisee, a venomous hater of Christians he is now utterly changed as a servant of Jesus. The way he writes, his love and confidence in Jesus Christ is boldly shared seven times in these few verses. How dramatically God has worked in his life. It's the same with this local church. Within 70 years it's one of the many communities on mission with Jesus, demonstrating qualities of life together that testifies to a transformed community. 

It shows how powerfully the gospel of Jesus moves from the manger, shepherds and wisemen to real spiritual happenings. Men and women living transformed lives.  We need to remember that the same Lord God continues to be at work right now. With prayer and expectation we should never limit God's grace and power that can change people and build churches in the darkest of times.  Never forget the propulsive dynamic of gospel grace still transforms in God's timing, right where we are. 

.  

I

I and Thou

 A library book surprised me.  It's a demanding textbook on Living with Dementia and the Foreword began with a two line quote: 

What's more important love or money? 

Love definitely.  

Interestingly it was quoting a question and answer from a resident in a dementia care home. 

This opened up the whole question of how best to test people with deteriorating memories. Usual tests ask questions of detail, such as the date, day of the week, or give an address to remember and a clock face to fill in.  In contrast with this approach, the author introduced the distinction made famous by the religious thinker Martin Buber. I rubbed my eyes with delight. The contrast in Buber's book titled I and Thou (1922) was still making waves when I studied theology (years ago!). He contrasted the I-It approach which concerns our experiencing and using of things with the I-Thou approach which concerns the whole of our being entering into real relationships grounded in life. Indeed, through such  whole person relationships we can be open to what Buber called 'the eternal Thou'. 

It's true isn't it that I-It relationships can be distant, objective, detached and cool? Ticking boxes. Putting people into categories.  But in I-Thou relationships your engagement is personal, making you open and vulnerable in genuine dialogue by making mutual commitment to understand who the other person is. Asking people about what truly matters in life - money or love - engages in a profoundly different I-Thou way and allows  you to see the humanity, wisdom and creativity of the other person.  

As you can imagine this sets the scene for the book's stress on person-centred care that seeks to create good moments in relationships and values that connect with the strengths possessed by people living with dementia.  I like the challenge of rejecting the I-It transactional approach to life for the richer I-Thou.  Whether you're thinking of dementia or relationships in general the richer I-Thou is the way to live.  A good reminder.

Spurgeon's College

 I have been asked by several people about my response to the sudden closure of Spurgeon's College on July 25th. After 169 years it was announced that the college was no longer viable.  I was Principal 1993-2000 so shared just a little in it's recent story.  My response?  Like most peoples! Utter incomprehensibility!  How could such a thing possibly occur without us being aware of its troubles - for prayer and giving?  Shock, sadness, questions.

I met with my friend and colleague at Spurgeon's, Ian Randall, two days ago. He shares the same sense of loss and sadness, especially over the suddenness with which staff and students have had their careers and courses severed.  We agreed that our measured response should focus on prayer for those caught in the cross-hairs  with especial concern for all remedial actions being taken to help people in their vocations. And that we should not despair that this is God's final word on Spurgeon's as a vision to prepare men and women to serve Jesus.  Something fresh and inspiring may be in God's will.

It is of little value to recall how the College functioned back in my time.  I confess I only have very sketchy awareness of recent developments which led to this disaster.  All I know I can do, is to pray for those who are damaged and cheer on fresh possibilities - of which there are encouraging signs.  

But it's tragic still the same.

Porridge and Christmas 2026

I was thinking. Porridge is a slang British term for a prison sentence (because that's standard prison breakfast)!. It was the title of a popular comedy sitcom on British TV. As I complete one week of a porridge diet, courtesy of my mouth ulcers, I realize it's been a kind of short imprisoning (so far) which has certainly limited me. Because exhaustion is blamed for the ulcers appearance in my mouth, I have been taking it easy - though no choice really. In Limbo time.

However, I have received a writing commission that I should complete in the next few weeks. It's beginning to nag me. It's scheduled for Christmas 2026. (Yes, I know that's looking ahead but notes for Scripture Union's Encounter God need future planning).  And this is the surprise. The section of Scripture chosen for the days beginning Monday December 21, 2026 is Paul's letter to the Philippians. Did that book immediately come to mind?

It's going to be a prayerful responsibility to see myself as a reader at Christmas time. Context really matters for reading Scripture. Because God encounters us in his living word it is alive and active for every context.  Not that the context ever changes Scripture's timeless truths but wherever or whoever we are its relevance remains sharper than a two-edged sword. The busy days of Christmas fill up our time with activities of every kind. Thinking back to days with a young family, a hectic schedule drove a long list of to do's in order that the celebration would meet expectations (including all the church activities).  Admittedly nowadays the list is shorter. Yet routines of Christmas activity are common for so many readers.

In Christmas routines Paul's letter needs to be heard afresh. Are there particular challenges to which the Spirit seeks to alert me. I shall not trouble you with all that I hope to discover but it will be good to have a sounding board as I try to be a listener truly open to what God is saying. And I'm still on  porridge.

80 with porridge

Yesterday I celebrated 80 years alive with genuine gratitude to the Lord for every year. It's easy to be grateful. They've been packed with love and grace, as a child, youth, with such positive relationships all the way. Then meeting Carol and starting our own family. God's call into ministry with all the shared service in churches and colleges, Carol always at my side.

But yes, inevitably her illness has changed much of our lives this year.  Instead of creating birthday enthusiasm - one of her sparkly gifts - setting out the breakfast table with cards and gifts anticipating the big day, it didn't register this year.  Since returning home from hospital her memory continues to very patchy! Adding to the unusual tone, my ulcers decided to unite within my mouth. Careful pain stewardship, like eating carefully on the left, had to be abandoned. My whole mouth became inflamed in pain. I was strongly advised by a friend to start swilling with salt water to kill the bacteria immediately. Further I was advised to stay off all the good things I was thinking of eating and make porridge for myself! That was the story of non-feasting on my big day...and it looks to continue for some while after a torrid night.

Yet, yesterday reminded me again how the church family can really be family. The whole church had signed a birthday card for me when I was absent on Sunday and calls, visits, emails piled in to incarnate the care.  Since neither of my families could physically share, it was startling how knocks on the door ushered in cakes, goodies and church friends through much of the day. Two good friends arrived with a poster celebrating my 80th. He's a professional signwriter with his life's work scattered through the University, city, pubs, vehicles etc. etc What amazed me was his memory of me mentioning (way back) that my favourite animal is the zebra.  On the poster is an impressive zebra. Further, he had wrapped two packages. They turned out to be shields on which he had hand-painted the Quicke family crest (which he had successfully researched) and Jesus College.  A zebra card accompanied all this with some over the top but joyful to read celebratory words.  I cannot remember a birthday when someone had spent so much time practically on creating beautiful things just for me.  I am truly, truly grateful to belong to a Christian family.  

Motive?

 Carol's return home has transferred her hospital suffering upstairs with disturbed nights, another fall though less spectacular, and continuing trouble trying to tempt her to drink (vital for the UTI) and eat (vital for some energy). I am not sure she shows any improvement since returning but then she has been receiving no medicine for a week. Friends have been so kind popping in briefly and praying. Occasionally bringing food - very welcome to me!

However a background issue has been buzzing. ( I think other old preachers may understand).  Several weeks ago I was invited to preach at my own local church on Sunday 27th. This Sunday!  I only preach at my own church since Carol has been poorly, and this was only the second time this year.  Ever since my call to preach in Chatsworth Baptist Church (and that story has been written up!) I have experienced the wonder and terror of sharing God's word. Listening for a biblical word and proclaiming it. I have always found preparation has taken me to deeper places with God, and the actual act of preaching has brought a powerful sense of working with God for transformation.  For me, it's a very special opportunity.

So, when all this dramatic stuff with dear Carol was happening I still felt positive about preaching this Sunday.  Yes, I am tired but my early work with the chosen text has been exhilarating. Even last Sunday when I was asked whether I would be able to preach I answered 'yes'.  I was sure!  Why was I so convinced?  On Monday night Carol fell in the bedroom again and set my pulse racing. I realized how weary I really was.  I still felt preaching was a possibility. Yet, by morning, when her UTI test showed no improvement I recognized the folly of persisting with my dream.

Why had I hung on so long?  All kinds of motives might lurk in my soul?  Now in my bone-weariness, I am grateful that my friend Ian Randall is preaching in my stead. But I don't think it should have taken me so long to withdraw!   

Bed Pressure

I am very grateful for friend's care as some of you have responded and others are hearing the news.  Wednesday night was distressing with hallucinations etc. and as I went back into hospital on Thursday morning I had concerns and questions (you bet!) Carol had still not slept much and slotted in between her chair and the nurses station, a 91 year old lady was sitting waiting for a bed, the need of which she announced at regular intervals throughout the day. When I sat in Carol's chair my elbow nearly touched this troubled lady's, so I couldn't but help share her agitation

Further tests continued with bags of antibiotic flowing into Carol's canula. When the doctor came late morning there was still no news about her heart condition. Though I say it myself, I gave a fairly accurate nurses' impression for several hours, moving to-and-fro the loo and trying to make Carol comfortable. Friends tell me that this was noticed! It would likely be responsible for a decision that day.

Hours later, a new senior figure appeared and told me that Carol could go home and the doctor would explain why. Stunned is the word.  Really stunned!  The doctor explained they had spent considerable time on Carol's diagnosis. Their conclusion was helped by a recent research paper he had read that the UTI infection was sufficiently serious it actually caused the heart problem.  So, with a measure of confidence they were ceasing her heart medication - drugs, injections - and sending her out with 2 more days of UTI medicine - 4 precious orange pills - into my tender care.

Later, when I returned with her clothes helped by a friend with a blue badge who could park near the hospital entrance, she was sleeping yet happy to be woken for dressing and the journey home. As they stripped the bed I was aware that the dear neighbouring-chair lady appeared to be taking her bed.  Such is the pressure on beds, evident from the moment you come into A and E, that Carol needed to be discharged.  Yes, that's put extra responsibility on me and it will be much more complex monitoring her recovery from the UTI, but I realized it was an inevitable decision. From the 7 pages of discharge papers it is clear how exhaustive the testing has been and (in spite of the surprise discharge) how excellent has been the care.

I told Carol I was posting this. She said: 'Please tell them I'm still poorly and I need their prayers.' I am so grateful to know that many friends will respond.

Sudden bad news

Breezy talk about the Austrian Alps has been obliterated by dire happenings for Carol.  For those who know her bright lively spirit, I need to report that early (5.00 am) on Monday she collapsed dramatically beside the bed.  Unable to move or coherently express herself I assumed some kind of stroke. Whatever it might be, she lay in pain for 2 hours before 2 ambulances appeared in sequence. Manpower was needed from both to carry her downstairs.  Many hours in A and E assessment led to a plethora of tests - CT scan, blood tests galore, ECG etc.  Impressive in a very busy ward.  Moved into a dementia ward Carol continued in pain and uncertainty.

I assumed Urinary Tract Infection would explain much of her distress and pain. What I would never have guessed is that tests seem to reveal she has suffered a silent heart attack.  Without the normal symptoms the heart shows considerable stress of a heart attack. It's a new one to me. The troponin blood test which should show a maximum count of 39, stood at 750!  An echocardiogram today is supposed to reveal more.

We await more information as Carol stays unhappily in hospital.  For those who don't know Carol, then skip over this personal bulletin. But I would so value prayers at this difficult time.

Austrian alps and Barcelona

Sounds exotic!  In the Austrian alps and Barcelona on the same day.  Some of you will smile knowingly at my experience!  Yes, the hospital has referred me on to a gym to keep my 'escape pain' regime going. I took my form, which they had prepared for several class members, replete with personal health details, to a nearby gym. Unsurprisingly, even as I was making arrangements to have an assessment with a trainer at the gym, I pondered a fundamental issue - did I really want the regime to continue?  While attendance at the hospital sessions was enforced, this was entirely a personal choice.  Did I want to extend voluntarily an exercise regime?  

Anyway, with some diffidence, I did meet the trainer who filled in more forms and gave me a personal plan of exercise for an introductory month.  This involves using gym equipment which he demonstrated. I am supposed to engage in 5 minutes walking when I begin for cardio exercise and conclude with 5 minutes cycling.. This is when I made my discovery. The treadmill has a large screen offering travel routes. I found I could choose to walk or cycle in far off places. Beginning in the Austrian  Alps I was staggered at my level of engagement. I really was walking, alongside others, up this road surrounded by magnificent scenery. My gentle stroll didn't take me far but I guess that's the motivation - I'll want to go further and higher next time.

And at the end, my cycle ride along a promenade in Barcelona was a breathtaking contrast with the mountain track. Moving faster I enjoyed my time in the sunshine. I recognize that Carol and I will not be travelling again for a long time but this was a welcome surprise outing on the continent. I had been anticipating some dull repetitive machine exercises.  

It just goes to show how something that I assumed would be boring can surprise with delight.  I know that's how the text I mentioned last time: This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it can spring fresh experiences on the dullest and most repetitive days. 

Remembering Brenda

Sadly, yet another funeral. Inevitably, attending funerals becomes more frequent for friends your own age!  Brenda McWilliams was one of those larger than life people who overflowed with generosity and kindness in all her many many friendships. My family first met her when she arrived in Cambridge and became part of the St. Andrew's St Baptist Church community in the mid-80's.  Within days (really...days!) her warmth was creating a network of new friends, many of whom turned up to her service last week. My family was wrapped in this caring which continued right up till a few weeks before her illness was suddenly diagnosed. My son in the US said: ' Brenda created magic in my childhood.'  Isn't that something?

Her service sheet was unusual (in my experience) for including a gallery of portraits of Brenda from a cheeky five year old through the decades until a final one of her brandishing one of her crutches.  I really liked seeing her personality shine out through the years. (Didn't Rembrandt especially enjoy painting self-portraits through his life stages)?  It reveals much.  And, as always seems to happen, when the tributes were made new facts tumbled out.  Her childhood on a farm, a brilliant first in Maths at London University with a dazzling career in the Ministry of Defence, her career moves eventually to meet Bill in criminology, a sphere in which she devoted herself to support him, and always a prodigious ability to make friends at depth everywhere. Her Christmas card list contained 400 names. Her birthday records kept many tens of those and she never forget us.  A professional colleague also testified to her extraordinary professionalism including being Copy Editor of the Howard Journal - one of the key jobs she fulfilled. So much else was evident in the service, especially Brenda's deep love of music.  A choir of her friends sang some of her favourite Bach, Wesley and Mozart.

Her son John said there was one word to sum her up: KINDNESS.  For Brenda being kind was critical to living a good life. She instilled it in her boys and consistently demonstrated it her behaviour.  She visited us in the US three times, throwing herself into every part of the experience with such enthusiasm it was a joy to witness. On each occasion an early duty involved buying postcards of Chicago with stamps. Never less than a hundred cards were handwritten and dispatched to her network.

I was left deeply saddened that such an unusual kind friend was no longer around to chat and share with.  I was able to pray with her a couple of days before she died and faith in our resurrection Lord transforms the passing. But there's still sadness, isn't there? 

A long journey

It is tempting to share a spot of family news though I know how presumptuous that can be on social media. So, please forgive me, those of you who have troubles enough. Some of you will know that my wife Carol was badly affected by Covid and her symptoms over the last two years ultimately propelled her into our hospital's Long Covid Management Team.  It seemed possible that her serious 'brain fog', muscle weakness, general fatigue were caused by her covid illness early 2020.  For 7 months she was counselled by team members, given tests to complete and literature to read. Everyone who dealt with her was kindly and sensitive. But, 3 months ago the team had a meeting which involved a wide range of experts who together decided that Carol should be signed off the long covid track and put onto the Memory Clinic track.

Shifting tracks proved complicated with her details lost between the doctors' request and clinic. Eventually, we received notice that she has been admitted to the waiting list of 36 weeks. Apparently, since covid hit the number of doctor referrals has so rocketed about patient memory problems that this is the quickest you can have a first appointment.

In the period of waiting we are both learning much.  Some years ago in the US Carol purchased (from a charity shop - as usual) an attractive plaque which reads TODAY IS THE DAY.  It's large and unavoidable. When I first saw it I was critical, suspecting it to be a new age self-help slogan requiring effort to be positive each morning. Saying to yourself TODAY IS THE DAY as though by sheer self-will we should see it as a special day.

But I have come to recognize it as an invaluable trigger on our journey. Every time I see it I say THIS IS THE DAY THAT THE LORD HAS MADE; LET US REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT (Psalm 118:24). What a splendid perspective that gives to days that may seem mundane and even troubled.  That every day is a gift from the Lord, and an opportunity to remember his promises of love and strength holding us through another 24 hours. Rejoicing isn't easy but to approach each day as a fresh gift in the unfailing grace of our Lord can bring gladness in the mundane and troubling. Yes, it can. 

TV saga and delight

I know there's (too) much mundane stuff on this blog but this week has continued a saga which began last November when our TV picture began seriously breaking up.  In her current tiredness, Carol much enjoys TV but, sadly, her regular pitiful cry began: 'Michael, the picture's gone again!'  No channel seemed exempt. I called up the company supplying our account and entered a series of lengthy earnest conversations with well-meaning advisers, who gave me instructions about checking leads etc. which required uncomfortable/impossible gymnastic moves.  Each intervention was only successful for a day or two. I became used to ceding control of my smart phone camera so they saw with their own eyes. Through December to March the plaintiff cry echoed. Twice TV boxes were sent out complete with an engineer.  Eventually, in exasperation, just before Easter one adviser told me I needed my aerial checked. They gave me a number to call. 

The aerial specialist answered hesitantly saying he was in the middle of a field and earlier in the day had fallen off a ladder. He said he would contact me later. I wondered! Yet he did the next morning asking if I was the gentleman who had phoned when he was in the middle of a field.  A delightful, unusual man in his 70's he agreed to come. Bringing in his meter and connecting with the aerial socket he expressed amazement that we have been receiving any signal at all. It's strength and quality was barely registering. He pronounced that our solar panels were preventing a clear signal and the new tall houses at the bottom of the garden weren't helping either. 

I had offered him tea or coffee when he arrived but he said he would wait until he had sorted the problem. Nearly 2 hours later we sat down for a welcome cuppa when he began opening up about his life and situation. Asking me about what job I had, I told him that I was a Baptist minister. At which he lit up.  Not because he is a churchgoer but because of his recent experience in the village where he lived. Feeling depressed and concerned he was walking down the main street when he saw the local Baptist minister. Quite wonderfully (and it really did thrill me!) he spoke about this minister's high reputation in the community.  He stopped him and asked whether he could speak with him.  I'm not quite sure where they went but the minister immediately agreed and the conversation (which turned out to be 2 hours long) proved so helpful. 'He's the kind of person who is so special you know they care and are wise. I shall never forget him being there for me'.  

I don't know this minister but I have told one of his friends all about this testimony who has promised to pass on this encouragement. To be salt and light on the main street is a great story, isn't it?.  I was so glad to hear it. 

P.S. Our aerial situation is still not properly fixed and we anticipate a third visit soon, but he has fitted some widget which cuts down the pixellating and the plaintiff cries.A

AWOL Birthday Book

 A desperate search in our house over many weeks has accelerated with increasing yelps of despair. Critical to the smooth running of Carol's birthday/anniversary calendar has been a well-worn, red leather covered note book, containing every day of the year. Painstakingly, Carol has entered birthdays as new members of the family have arrived, as friends have become close, as her big heart has embraced a selection of people through our ministries in UK and USA (and, more importantly their big hearts have embraced us).

Matching this careful record have been her filing cabinets of cards, collected through the ages for every kind of situation.  She has labelled them and either side of this desk as I type I can see the drawers signed: Thinking of You; Humour, Arty/blank; Thank You; Family Birthday, Birthday (2 general drawers) Special occasions; Cambridge/Blank and several more plus selection boxes. Her vast collection encompasses all human conditions and, for birthdays, she has anticipated celebrating specific ages with several 80 and 90 cards (sometimes bought with specific people in mind).  If you are even slightly impressed you should be, for sending cards and marking occasions has been one of Carol's distinctive trademarks through the years.

You can imagine our distress therefore when this repository of unsent cards, especially birthday cards, is sabotaged by the total loss of the master list in the little red book.  Each month Carol would look up the latest batch to receive from her collection.  Now, at a total loss (well not quite total because we do remember family birthdays) we are hearing from people concerned that no birthday card arrived. 'Carol never forgets - what's happened?' they say. I lamely explain the lost address book and the general state of confusion this end.  But it's sad. Really sad.  If you happen to be someone Carol has always remembered let me apologize right now. Sorry!

Big misunderstanding

Today I assumed I had completed my Escape Pain regime. I had asked Hannah at the outset how many sessions the clinic would run. When she said six I breathed a sigh of relief. It's been an effort to attend every Tuesday and Friday at the hospital and, though other class members are pleasant fellow pilgrims who have helped make each session worth attending, I was looking forward to dropping this weekly commitment.

Today I learned that the clinic runs for 6 weeks!  I am just half-way through!  How I came to make this mistake (hearing loss/ concentration blip/ wishful thinking) is a mystery.  But I felt rebuked when one of the other members expressed her gratitude that the NHS was spending so much time on us. Indeed, she said that she already felt a great improvement in her mobility.  

Each session begins with education on some key area like 'pacing yourself' or, today, 'using heat and cold appropriately'.  Then we limber up with a group exercise where each of us in turn suggests one of the many exercises we have learned.  Today I chose the shoulder roll backwards and forwards. (Yes, I thought you would be interested!)  Then we follow clockwise a series of timed exercises set up around the gym. At least one is always excruciating to perform and while Abba accompanies our flexing I tell myself it must be improving my joint pain

Apparently, having reached half-way, our next session comprises some heart-to-heart story-telling, preferably with positive stories of our progress so far. So, this is another of life's lessons that I should see another 6 sessions as sheer opportunity and be grateful. Yes, that's the challenge.

Carol's 80th.

On Monday Carol reached the 80 year milestone (a few months ahead of me - an age gap of which I have made much as a younger man!)  Necessarily because of Carol's poor health, it has been low key with a couple of meals shared with friends, including our church home group meeting in the large garden of one of our members.  One, a professional signwriter, had designed a large poster blazoning Carol's birthday which was pasted to a window with balloons.  Senior fish and chips were enjoyed followed by delicious sweets and a dairy free chocolate cake with unblowable candles!  It was such a kind generous time with all these newish friends (we joined the church about 8 years ago!) giving their best.

One of them had earlier given Carol an attractively wrapped gift which looked like containing a picture.  Indeed it did.  To our delight Lesley had written a poem set in a delightful design. 

For Carol on her 80th birthday. 

Eighty years, and each a thread 

In woven grace where angels tread 

A Pastor's wife, yet more than that- 

A heart where love and wisdom sat

With ink and flourish, line by line,

Your calligraphy made words divine.

And every scarf around your neck

A gentle, artful warmth reflects.

You've lit more candles than we know,

Not just with wax, but kindness' glow.

Your table, open, wide, and true,

Has welcomed many, just like you.

For those in need, you took their part,

With steady hands and servant's heart

Now eighty rings this lovely chime,

A life well lived, a sacred time.

So here's to Carol, graceful, bright,

A beacon still, a shining light.

Lesley has only known Carol a very few years but she's captured so much about her character, calligraphy, love of colourful matching scarves, hospitality giver, and compassion with kindness that has marked Carol's life. I know many of you readers won't know her but you can imagine my pride and gratitude for this creative tribute.

BQ Vol.56.2

My copy of Baptist Quarterly dropped through the letter box yesterday . This journal aims to engage with Baptist heritage and history, not only to encourage readers to recall the past but enable them to reflect on Baptist life today. With the big purpose of challenging and inspiring Baptists for tomorrow.  I have been a subscriber for over 50 years having been guilt-tripped (!) into commitment right at the beginning of my ministry.  I have always been interested in history and Earnest Payne, a noted Baptist historian, General Secretary of the Baptist Union (and someone with whom I had a personal relationship) pressed home the need for young ministers like myself to become regular readers.

Through the years there has been much to encourage and stimulate reflection. The articles are well researched, ranging far and wide. Sometimes I confess they are too niche to hold my attention. Only once have I been published with my long paper responding to the World Council of Churches' Baptism, Eucharist and Mission document (BEM) - or to be accurate to its Baptism section.

I never, ever thought that I would appear in its pages with my own story!  But the edition arriving yesterday begins with Ian Randall's paper: Cambridge, Baptists and the Formation of Minds and Hearts. He presented the paper last year at a 2024 conference on Baptists and Education.  Ian is a good friend and when I read his paper I couldn't believe that his focus on the 1980's brought together my ministry at St. Andrew's Street Baptist Church, Roy Clements at Eden Baptist Church, the Cambridge Papers - examining key issues of the time - and a number of other areas of Baptist involvement.  As he puts it: ' The Baptist initiatives outlined here, not previously analysed, show ways in which Baptists in Cambridge contributed to Christian thought and action through churches, publications, centres and groups.'

As I re-read it I felt honoured to have been included in such meticulous research (Janice, Ian's wife is co-researcher). Undeniably the 80's were glorious years to be alive in Cambridge with God's blessing and power at work in many ways.  Was I startled by some of the details unearthed? Most definitely. Was I dumbfounded to find them in the BQ jostling alongside much heavyweight material?  Too true!  It is a genuine privilege to have a section of your life charted in this way, put in the wider context where I have so many happy memories.  So, it was a good day to open the post and see my BQ. Thank you Ian and Janice.

Escape Pain

I have just been to my first Escape Pain clinic. Over 4 months ago my hospital physiotherapist selected me for this programme.  Partly, I think, because of desperation that his set exercises (since June 2024) had reached their (his/mine) exhaustion limit.  I always tried to be positive but, bluntly, sometimes the exercises themselves seem to backfire. And, partly, because this clinic is a collective approach as eight people share experiences to boost confidence.

I am one of the oldest but there is something encouraging being surrounded by hobbling, creaking limbs and pilgrim brave souls. Each of us was given a name badge so that Hannah (our noble leader) could address us and we could begin group dynamics.  We met in the hospital gym full of equipment around the echoing walls. In the middle we sat on chairs and we told how Escape Pain would allow us to become more confident in dealing with our joint pain for the long term by helping us learn techniques for avoiding the Vicious Cycle: Pain - Prolonged Rest- Overactivity.  So, we are to expect advice about safe exercise and pacing; healthy diet, managing flare ups, setting personal goals.  Always gaining tips from other people in the same condition. 

That sounds good! Our first session had warm up exercises and then rotation around eight stations.  I had a couple of thoughts.  One was general.  How optimistic Escape Pain is! I suppose you have to be positive but ageing takes its toll.  It made me think about false messaging that some people hear about the gospel. That faith in Jesus Christ means escaping pain in charmed loved lives. A kind of spiritual insurance police. No, discipleship is in the real world where Jesus identified with our human condition and now lives with us and the Holy Spirit, helping us to live with suffering and pain.

The other thought brought a smile. When we were leaving one of the women came over to me and asked me if I was Michael Quicke.  She said she thought there wouldn't be many Michael Q's (my label) in the world. It turns out she is a Baptist minister's widow whose husband was minister where my father pastored in the 1960's.  Instantly, the network of connections and relationships hummed into action. I was so happy to meet her.  That will make a difference as we meet up again. 

In this odd blog, which blends personal bits and pieces with more solid stuff, I shall report in at least once as the clinic progresses. 

Brutal deshelving

I have mentioned before my grief at needing to find good homes for my books.  On the eve of my 80's I need to let go. Of course, my main academic library I left in the US. My precious preaching books complete with dedications from friends and rich accompanying stories, came back to Cambridge but have now gone to a seminary.  But I still have an odd assortment, gathered through the ages, residing in my garden shed study back in Cambridge. Now I am left with a rag-tag (is that the expression?) of mostly older books some of which are in past-their-best condition. In particular I have books of sermons of some of the 'greats'.  My Holy Week post mentioned the famous Methodist preacher W.E. Sangster.  I have 15 volumes of his sermons, teaching and devotionals that were lovingly found, mostly in the used book shop in Saffron Walden.

But I have many other old books of past worthies.  I have reached the point where I know I must deshelve (again, is that a word?)  If any of you, dear readers, have particular favourites you might like to give a  home to, I might just have the odd volume or two.  You never know. I would gladly pack them off to you for the cost of postage. 

It's so sad to jettison books for recycling though I think some probably deserve it.  But, let's see if there are any rescues possible!  

The Resurrection Dance.

A glorious joyous Easter to you. My last post's reference from Mere Christianity triggered C.S. Lewis' memorable summary of living the resurrection life as Easter people. It has a contemporary ring and reminds me of Richard Rohr's book Divine Dance (2016) which invites readers into encountering Trinity life - God as community, friendship and dance. 

The whole dance, or pattern of this three-personal life is to be played out in each one of us: or (putting it the other way round) each one of us has got to enter that pattern, take his place in the dance. There is no other way to the happiness for which we were made. Good things as well as bad, you know, are caught by a kind of infection. If you want to get warm you must stand near the fire: if you want to be wet you must get into the water. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get close to, or even into the thing that has them They are not the sort of prize which God could, if He chose, just hand out to anyone. They are a great foundation of energy and beauty spurting up at the very centre of reality. If you are close to it, the spray will wet you; if you are not you will remain dry. Once a man is united to God how could he not live forever? Once a man is separated from God what can he do but wither and die.

What happened that first Easter is 'the very centre of reality'. Encountering the risen Jesus, with willingness to remain close, also places us in relationship with the Father and Holy Spirit that overwhelms. If you want joy, power, peace, eternal life, you must get close to, or even into the thing that has them.  I love Easter Sunday. The Cross and Resurrection are the very centre of reality for my life, my everything.  May it be a deep joyful day for you too. 

Holy Week

This Holy Week I have been reading one of my old books by W. E. Sangster ( a renowned Methodist preacher 1900-1960) titled: They Met at Calvary.  Its sobering to reflect on: the teachers who hated him, the priests who bought him, the traitor who sold him, the crowd who cried, 'Crucify him!', the judge who sentenced him, the thieves who died with him, the people who ministered to him.  For the most part it's an extraordinary tangle of dark motives unfolding in fast real time. The book's last chapter is a typical gospel challenge from this master preacher who coined the expression ' preach to convict'. It's called I was there!

If you come to Calvary with some admiration of His life and some pity at His death and see in Him nothing but another good man beaten by the wickedness of the world, you have not really come to Calvary at all. No mere man could save you.

If He was a man, it was murder; if He was God it was an offering.

If He was a man it was martyrdom; if He was God it was sacrifice.

If He was man, they took his life from him; if He was God, he laid it down of himself.

If He was man we are called to admiration; if He was God we are called to adoration. 

The teaching of this Church Universal is this: the immortal God has died for you.

All the happenings of his week that changed the world are complex as they lead through to the death of Jesus.  To think that there are so many haters in the story which leads to the most glorious foundation of Christian faith in the Cross and Resurrection. I was reminded of C.S. Lewis' comment in Mere Christianity.

If Christianity was something we were making up, of course we could make it easier. But it is not. We cannot compete, in simplicity, with people who are inventing religions. How could we? We are dealing with Fact. Of course, anyone can be simple if he has not facts to bother with.

 We are called to adoration before the Easter facts.

Acorns

Opposite the Cambridge church (nicknamed St A's by the students) where I was minister 1980-1993, Emmanuel College has inscribed words to describe their past students: I have set an acorn which when it becomes an oak, God alone knows what will be the fruit thereof.  When the new minister, Simon Cragg, was inducted a couple of Saturdays ago at a full and joyous service he reproduced this quote with a picture of an acorn on the front of the printed service sheet.

I was thrilled that the church was jam packed for Simon's new beginning - in fact they had prepared 200 hot lunches for guests and found 320 stayed. Careful stewardship (!) fed everyone though several, like myself, were unable to stay.  

To my surprise it turned out that the acorn theme proved personally significant. Simon explained in his description of the steps leading to his call to pastor St A's that he had heard Michael Quicke (that mention jolted me!) when he was a child.  Apparently I preached a sermon that struck him as a 5 year old. When he was 15 years old he found a cassette recording (remember those?) of the same sermon in his father's collection. His re-listening led directly to his calling from God into ministry. Wow!  I had no idea that this happened and his father told me afterwards it was news to him.  Simon referred to the inscription, how he was an acorn planted in the church's past ministry and how he shares the vision of many acorns being planted to flourish in the future.

At the end of the service I was met by one of the former students who is now a local Baptist minister. 'You baptized me', he said. Right behind was another former student who told me he was now in Anglican ministry in a church not far away. Talking with them I heard of two more former members of the church who are now in ministry,  One of them remarked how these were all acorns planted in my time.  

We can never tell this side of heaven what God is doing in the lives of others but as you grow older it is one of the greatest encouragements to learn stories like this.  

Missing punchline

Preaching without notes (in my case) involves careful oral writing of a full, timed script which I 'internalize' so that I can preach from the heart. (This is not memorization but a holding of structure in mind with certain key phrases that stay with me when I first preached it to myself).  I always leave the ending open for you never know where the Holy Spirit will lead. However, I do prepare some possible endings as I have sensed God moving my preparation.

With Zacchaeus Richard's contemplation piece was delivered so effectively.  He used his smart phone in the conversation with his wife and the end result registered so powerfully that one visitor said he was nearly brought to tears by its portrayal of Zacchaeus' transformation. It was powerful. It led me to conclude with a brief challenge about the way Jesus views us all as lost when he first meets us. 

This meant that I failed to use one of the ways I might have ended!  Only one commentary I consulted mentioned how one of the early church leaders (and preachers) called Clement of Alexandria, referred to Zacchaeus in his homily 3:63.  And guess what? He writes that Zacchaeus became Bishop of Caesarea in the early church. I love that detail.  There's a factual follow-up to the Luke 19 story.  Zacchaeus' momentous declaration to Jesus, right there and then at the foot of the tree, that he would give away half his possessions and repay any he had cheated, is a prelude to such changed character that he becomes a leader in Jesus' church. I wish we knew more. You can only imagine how that the personality that once took him to chief tax collector position, with gifts of leadership, organization, and team work is turned on its head. As a generous, gracious bishop his caring, compassion and ability are refocused on the kingdom of God, living for Jesus, in his way with his people. Maybe he told his testimony. It would have made a great evangelistic story. This outcast up a tree, found by Jesus.

On reflection I believe I was right to finish the sermon as I did. but follow-up stories have their own gospel power too. And that leads me to another recent experience.....

Zacchai

 Zakkai phones home    Reading Luke 19: 1-10

Zacchaeus is the Greek form of a common Jewish name, Zakkai. I often wonder what happens after someone encounters Jesus in the gospel. Imagine the crowds have gone and Zakkai is left to ring his wife to tell her that a special guest is coming for dinner. (To date no archaeological excavation has dug up a mobile phone dating back to the first century!)

Hi there my dear, Zakkai here. Just wanted to let you know that we’ve got an important guest coming to dinner.........

Yes, I know tonight’s our night out but I think we’ll have to give it a .......

Who’s the guest? Oh, it’s that preacher everyone’s talking about, Jesus. (Pause). Well actually, it may not be just the meal, it may be a bed too. (Pause) And it may not just be one guest....... 

Well he has a few disciples who go with him everywhere and it would be rude to exclude......

Oh just a dozen, but they’re used to sleeping rough.........

 Yes, I know it’s very short notice, and it’s the servants day off, but he sort of invited himself! ....

What do I mean? Well he looked up at me .........What?  No, I haven’t found someone in Jericho shorter than me....... Yes that right, I’ve been climbing up trees again. Anyway, he looked up and said,’ Zakkai, I must stay at your house today’.  So I clambered down the tree and gave him a hug. And he hugged me back.....

Why me? Well I’m not really sure. With all the crowd surrounding him it was as if he was searching for just one person –me! He knew my name, and he didn’t condemn me for who I am and what I’ve done. And what’s more, he wants to meet you.... Yes, and the children.... and their pet rabbit. It was wonderful. Oh and my dear wife there’s one more thing. I’m sorry but we need to cancel our Mediterranean cruise......

 Yes, I was looking forward to it too, but I think we may be a bit short this month......

 No I haven’t been throwing my money around again to try to gain friends. But in a way perhaps I have. I told everyone that I’d give um, a generous donation to the poor!.... to be more precise, half our money...

That’s right, one half of everything we posses. Ridiculous I know, but perhaps a downsize would be good for us at our time of life.....

No, that’s not quite the lot. Tomorrow morning there will people knocking at the door looking for compensation for money I’ve overcharged them. ...

What?  How many?  Well, most of Jericho I would think.  And I told them I’d repay them everything -  plus a bit more....

 How much more?  Oh, um 400 per cent more....... Yes I know that’s four times more. It’s quite ridiculous. We will be penniless – but I don’t care!.......

 No I haven’t lost my marbles. You see Jesus looked at me, and for the first time I felt accepted, a real person again, not just a cheat, a fraudster, a sinner beyond redemption. For the first time I can hold my head high and know that when I go to the temple to pray I have a clear conscience, my wicked past forgiven by God. And do you know what Jesus said? ‘Today salvation has come to this household’ This household – that means me, you, the children....... Not sure about their pet rabbit , but yes pet rabbit as well. He said ‘For the Son of man came to seek and to save the lost’. And if he can save me – he can save everyone! See you soon, Bye.

Overwhelming spiritual encounter

My narrative sermon on Sunday followed the moves in the story. From a negative beginning to holy curiosity and then overwhelming spiritual encounter. Verse 5: When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him: Zacchaeus come down immediately. I must stay at your house today. So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. I invited the congregation to imagine this moment. Jesus takes the initiative. Perhaps he knew Zacchaeus' name but he would have certainly heard it from the crowd around who couldn't believe it was odious feared Zacchaeus up a tree. For goodness sake. This wealthy man of status actually peering down through branches.

And what authority Jesus shows!  Has anyone ever spoken to Zacchaeus like this before? Come down immediately. But he had never met anyone like Jesus before! Jesus must stay in his house today. This unpopular man is suddenly the focus of attention and the crowd can't bear it.  Doesn't Jesus know what kind of man this is? Yes, of course Jesus knows.

When he looks up at Zacchaeus he's not seeing a wealthy, successful man, or an extortioner and betrayer of his own people. He sees a man who is LOST.  It's unlikely that Zacchaeus would have ever considered himself lost.  He mapped out his life like his finances. His personal GPS had a route of continuing success  But from God's point of view he has missed his way to true living.  His life so far is empty of God's purpose. Within  Zacchaeus God's loving Spirit is working to help him recognize the truth of this moment. He shins down the tree and greets Jesus gladly.  He's been found.  Jesus will sum up his ministry: The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost (verse 12) and Zacchaeus is bowled over by the spiritual reality of being found in God's love and purpose.

The transformation is extraordinary. For someone for whom money was everything it is now as though it's nothing. Look Lord, here and now, I give half my possession to the poor. If I've cheated anyone out of anything I'll pay him four times the amount. Being found upends all he has been living for. Everything is different.

One of the Histon church members, Richard Pike, read my earlier postings about preaching on Zacchaeus. He mentioned that he had written what he calls an 'imaginative contemplation' on this story, when he was engaged in a project a few years ago. I asked to see it and when I read it I knew that it just had to be included in my sermon. 

So get ready....

Holy Curiosity

A French painter James Tissot, who painted at the end of the nineteenth century and beginning of the twentieth imagined the scene in a watercolour picture. 

Zacchaeus is centre-stage, wearing a gold robe with jewelry and headgear. Others are in the trees alongside him, dressed simply, as are members of the crowd with Jesus on the road below.  As I look at the figure of Zacchaeus he seems to be straining to get as good a view as possible. There is nothing casual about his stance. He wants to see who Jesus is, he wants to know.

The truth is that something is happening inside Zacchaeus. Bluntly, God is at work.  I heard someone on the radio interviewed about their life who said that he was fuelled by a 'furious curiosity', not furious in the sense of being angry but with such passionate desire that he had to know.  I think I would call the happening inside Zacchaeus as 'holy curiosity' because he really needed to know more about Jesus. Whether it was the celebrity news surrounding Jesus that aroused his interest, or someone shared a story about what Jesus had done, or Zacchaeus had let his faith in God lapse and felt strangely drawn to see Jesus.  Whatever the reason, and there are tens of other possibilities, it's the way that God works in the lives of people who find themselves wanting to know more. I guess Zacchaeus doesn't realize that.

Currently a large group is on an Alpha course at our church and I guess some are there because God has been working - through a friend who invited them, or a reminder of past days of believing, or a sense of need.  One of the great mysteries of Christian life that many of us can testify to is that along the way through family, friends, needs, questions we were led to the point where we wanted to see Jesus.  God was working in our lives before we realized it.

A weird turn

Though Zacchaeus' story begins negatively it takes an extraordinary turn at verse 3. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but being a short man he could not, because of the crowd. We can understand the crowd not letting him have a good view. Place children at the front and in no way to let this unpopular man elbow his way through. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. 

A traditional site in Jericho claims to be the tree. It's not a sycamore tree as we know it and many such traditional claims are less than likely. Yet they underline the reality that there really was a tree in Jericho that Zacchaeus climbed. There really was.

 

And that picture brings the story vividly and weirdly alive -  that a grown man, wealthy and entitled, climbs a tree to see Jesus. As a boy I enjoyed climbing trees and even as a teenager I climbed occasional lampposts until I realized it failed to impress someone I wanted to impress!  What is utterly bizarre is the way that this man, with all his wealth and status, is apparently willing to take the risk and embarrassment of climbing up.  Apparently the sycamore-fig tree has accessible branches and is heavily leafed so that someone could potentially avoid being very visible. So, perhaps he could be a spectator only.

I need to show you a second picture.....

Beginning negatively

To understand Zacchaeus involves giving a little background.  Publicani were a class of people in efficient Roman society, and it was ruthlessly efficient, that were public contractors responsible for a number of tasks, of which tax collecting was the most obvious. The right to collect taxes for a particular region would be auctioned every few years for a value that (in theory) approximated the tax available for collection in that region. Jericho was a wealthy area. Any excess (over their bid) in tax collected would be pure profit  That could be a big deal!  

Publicans were monied, powerful and detested. For Zacchaeus and others like him were Jews, who had defected to serve the hated Roman occupiers. Betraying their own people they now had authority to extract extra money, to rob their national family. We can imagine this job took a particular kind of person. They had to have some money in the first place, perhaps Zacchaeus' Dad was a tax collector so that bidding in the auction was a family thing.  But they needed personality hardened enough to withstand hatred and envy from their own people,  That’s why they were bracketed - publicans and sinners. 

They really had set themselves against God’s people and against God. And the chief tax collector was top of the pile of rich betrayers.  He didn’t mind being unpopular (we see that in the story), because you really can’t have enough money. You really had to be money-crazy to put up with being hated every day But money does that. It brings the worst out of people and when you’re in love with it enough there’s hardly any limit to which you will cut corners, cheat friends, trample on strangers. The background chant could be the Abba lyric: Money, money, money always sunny in the rich man's world,  Aha it's a rich man's world. Somebody had to do this job and just look at what it has given him in wealth and status.. 

As we meet Zacchaeus he doesn’t seem to have much going for him. A totally negative character. Not likely to become a friend!

An old man's chuckle

I'll get back to Zacchaeus but this week I chuckled over one of those surprises life throws up. One of our new church deacons asked me to accompany him to interview a couple seeking church membership. He emailed me the two forms outlining the areas to be covered in the interview, and the key responsibilities of church members. On the appointed afternoon, it was a delight to meet up since the new members are neighbours whom I already know well. They brewed coffee and with baked cakes made it a real occasion! 

As we started the deacon commented that he was glad I was there because I had done this before. And I had a flash back to the heady days of ministry in the 1970's when the Baptist Union produced leaflets to help churches in every aspect of their life called Baptist Basics.  Several different leaflets were packaged in an attractive envelope. I can picture the design.

And this was the flashback! Because (having not thought about it for 50 years) I wrote the leaflet entitled Visiting prospective church members. Did I really? That's another lifetime.  The Baptist Basics series has since been re-written by a younger generation of Baptist leaders. 

Of course, I didn't mention this at the time. This is just an old man's private chuckle about the dimming past that I can jot down in my blog. Yet, don't we feel pleasure when we are still involved in something 50 years later with another generation? I certainly do.  And what made it even more of a joy was this couple's story about how Carol's insistent invitation to come to our church led them eventually to trying it and now wanting to belong.  Now, that's encouragement!

Too small?

I was challenged about how my blog never engages with big issue world politics etc., especially when there is so much tumult as at present. Of course I have my views, but I believe that my only business in this blog (and I know it's so tiny and oddly personal in the big scheme of things) is to  reflect devotionally on happenings in my little world, which accounts for its often journal-like structure. It seems particularly small, however, to write that I have to engage with a man called Zacchaeus. But that's my immediate task and you are welcome to read along!

My pastor has designed a short sermon series in Lent focusing on some of the people Jesus encountered. These stories are one of my favourite parts of Scripture. Don't get me wrong, the story of Jesus is central, teaching is vital and learning great doctrines and history is important. But these stories about real people, all kinds of people, meeting Jesus face-to-face, bring Christian faith into human sized action. If we are willing to spend time entering each narrative, picturing the scene and sensing its emotions you can share in personal connection.  Zacchaeus is my story of encounter (Luke 19:1-10).  Vividly weird, this short man climbing a tree to see Jesus passing by, I have read and re-read these few verses attempting to visualize its eventfulness and sense what God is saying and doing to me.  That's important if I am to convey God's truth for today.

But I have had a tough time trying to get a read on this Zacchaeus' character. I have preached on him once before and remember how negative I was in my assessment. Much was to do with his wealth, or rather his manner of making money. As Jesus was entering Jericho he is introduced: A man was there by the name Zacchaeus. He was chief tax collector and was wealthy (Luke 19:1). That's enough to poison the mind. Dig into the background about how Romans extracted taxes as occupiers from inhabitants and you can easily see Zacchaeus as the most hated man in Jericho. A walking (waddling - was he fat as well as short?) contradiction of all that was fair and just in the world.

I think I need to justify that negative reaction with a little more detail........

Another Coda

Just to add a coda that really is musical.  Some time ago I mentioned that owing  to a stroke affecting my left hand I gave away my electric piano and stool to my neighbour. Please don't get the impression that my left hand was ever as efficient and accurate as my right hand. I began playing when I was nine, passing various grades and (in those simpler days) I found no greater pleasure than saving up my pocket money to add another music album to my collection. Before long I was being used at church and parties. Into my first room (on the second floor) as a student at Jesus College I lugged, with hefty friends, an out-of-tune piano. Painting it orange made a statement (!) and led to great music-making fun.  But lately my uncooperative hand brought my melody-making attempts to an end. 

However, all the music sheets that were packed into the music stool, plus heavier volumes of Beethoven sonatas and Bach preludes, still confronted me in the corner of my shed/study/studio. In a large carrier bag they lay stranded uselessly. I wondered how I could part with all of this stuff to a good home. One of the homes our church house groups meets in has a piano in the lounge with evidence of skilful use as music scores lie above an open keyboard.  When the musician came to our house last week I ambushed her with my stranded bag. I assured her there was no pressure for her to take any of it but she seemed genuinely delighted (I hope I didn't misread her) to forage through my sheet music, albums and volumes. And take it all home!  This is really a good ending. 

Good endings are so important. I look back on my piano playing days with happiness because they really did bring fulfilment. Sharing a gift is a privilege.  Now my electric piano and even my music store have gone to good homes I can rub my hands together with satisfaction at the good ending.  That's a splendid coda.

Coda

My brother's funeral was worthy and well attended with a colourful eulogy from his son that brought out so many positive aspects of Steve's life and ministry. We could all say that we celebrated his life.

One thing struck me in particular.  The first reading was Luke 23:32-34;39-43. I had never heard these verses at a funeral service, have you? 

Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with Jesus to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him along with the criminals - one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, 'Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.' And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.  One of the criminals who hung there hurled indults at him: 'Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!' But the other criminal rebuked him, 'Don't you fear God,' since you are under the same sentence' |We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But his man has done nothing wrong.' Then he said, 'Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.'  Jesus answered him, 'I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.'

The vicar spoke powerfully about these verses, emphasizing how at this very last moment in the criminal's life there was such faith in Jesus that he could throw himself in mercy asking for Jesus' forgiveness and help. This simple act of trusting received the promise of living eternally with Jesus.  When you meet the real Jesus, for real, recognizing there is no one like him, no matter our circumstances, ask him for help and he responds with promises as big as this one - 'You will be with me in paradise.' 

I asked Brenda, his widow, about this choice. 'Oh,' she replied,' that's actually my favourite Bible passage. I just love the way that Jesus deals with this man, and can deal with us. I wanted it for Steve's service.' I hope I wasn't the only person who heard it and went in imagination to the cross, and heard the words for Steve too.