Diligent and honest

A few weeks ago I noticed a donation in my bank account.  Most of the entries were debits but this credited me with over 100 pounds  A cryptic explanation alongside mentioned a church that I had preached at many months before, with a note about church flower expenses.  Somehow, the details for paying my expenses directly into my account had been used to pay the florists who provide church flowers.

I contacted the church and the surprised Treasurer replied with the church bank account details for reimbursement. She said the florist was also called Michael so wires crossed. I immediately returned the money and in her reply she congratulated me for being diligent and honest. It worried me that she had maybe experienced dishonest Baptist ministers!  Perish the thought!

I received a Christmas present with a note saying it was a joke. It's a wallet with imprinted words on its face including my name.  With wealth and power Michael comes great responsibility.  Oh yes.  With diligence and honesty of course.

Music, if you please

The saga with my son's book continues until May. In an effort to supercharge its writing, he visited us for eight days in mid-January (which I mentioned in the last post).  An exhausting trip from New York to London via Iceland!  I wondered how many days he would miss owing to jet-lag causing a shrinkage in our writing time.  However, he bounced into life quickly and suggested that we should target 5-6 hours every day! 

I had turned my garden study/shed/sanctuary into a serious work space, shoving books and papers to the side.  On one side tall IKEA racks hold my CD collection next to my old record player, speakers and vinyl collection, started 60 years ago.  He announced that he cannot work without music.  I am the opposite. Direct opposite!  Silence is essential for creativity.  But on the first day as I entered the study I found he had selected Holst's Planets and the CD was letting rip with Mars. 'Wow, Dad', he said,' I know nothing about classical music.  All my life has been spent with music. but classical music is a closed book. Can we play some of these while we work?'

How could I resist such a request?  I told him I would select some of the CDs and vinyl that his family loved.  Like his grandmother who loved Mozart, especially the piano concerti like No. 23.  I found the vinyl record she loved (with Alfred Brendel playing) and so gently, powerfully,Mozart wove his magic.  'Hey, Dad,''he said, ' I'm bidding for that very disc on eBay!'  And so he did.  JS Bach's double violin concerto, Elgar's cello concerto, Dvorak's New World Symphony were all new.   All, totally new!   How did he miss hearing them in our home when they were my constant companions, plus tens of others?  Well, in his own room he had his own (loud) music.

I am not sure listening to music really helped my writing, but I shall long treasure opening up some wonders to my son.  So this is a hard writing season but there have been some delights along the way. 

Pre-occupied

The gap between posts is widening. I know.  My most recent excuse is the emergency my son faces. His book project of 110,000 words has been struck by misfortune.  When he signed the contract he had the prospect of a 6 month sabbatical from his U.S. University, Sadly, the university has removed sabbatical privileges for all faculty while, at the same time, firing many faculty and staff as the institution has lurched into decline. Pleading for two extensions until May 2023, he has exhausted his publisher's patience. So, only 4 months remain in which to complete the manuscript.

Twenty-five years ago I would only have been able to wring my hands in sympathy,  However, when I joined Northern Seminary in 2000, my Seminary President informed me that the institution expected me to write a textbook on preaching that would be widely used  The writing/re-writing process over the next two years scarred me and left me battle hardened.  So, instead of hand-wringing, out of this hard-won experience I have committed myself to share the writing task.  My son came over from the US just under two weeks ago and we disciplined each day for work on the book.  And it took some discipline! 

My daily habits of doing the crossword, napping, reading are suspended. My blog posts are suffering too, as is Carol.  I have just shared a zoom session with him as we slowly move on.  Will we be successful? The jury is out. Hopefully, I shall keep some blog presence.

A slow start

Since both legs now operate fairly successfully, I was on coffee duty after our morning service yesterday. We served well over 100 hot drinks and a fair number of cold....so full-on customer service.  One man, returning after suffering a nasty bout of Covid, mentioned that my blog had gone quiet.  It was a double jolt - first, that I had a reader who noticed (!) and second, that 2023 had advanced quickly without me noticing. So, a slow start.

I admit the new year seems to have taken off at supersonic speed and left me behind.  But, with sciatica now, thankfully, in the rear view mirror I should pay tribute to another church member.. When the pain was severe and I was housebound, this friend called me on a Sunday afternoon and suggested that he visit me the next day with some exercises for me. Frankly, exercising was the last thing I wanted to do. I thanked him and declined his kind offer as graciously as I could.

It made no difference. He came round on Monday anyway. Apparently, he once suffered from severe sciatica and had been given exercises that really helped him.  He lay down on our wooden floor and splayed out his arms before pulling up his knees and twisting them from side to side.  Then extending his foot he held it mid-air counting the seconds.  'This is the best exercise for sciatica', he declared. I then realized that it was my turn next!  

Getting down on the floor was an effort itself and I needed a cushion behind my head.  He supervised my attempts to repeat the exercises.  With minimum flexibility I tried hard as he made encouraging and sympathetic noises. And he helped me stand up again afterwards. 

Is this a good story?  Most definitely yes.  Among other things these exercises helped me on the recovery road. And I really want to say thank you to my friend who took the time to breeze through my negatives, give a personal demonstration, and actually make a difference.  That's a real challenge to how to help others in 2023.

Entering 2023

Every New Year, for the 21 years I was minister, I led a Watch Night Service to see the New Year in.  In Blackburn there was a Church Social first followed by a short service, with reflection and fresh commitment. My portable radio was barely audible until Big Ben struck when I turned the volume up for the chimes to ring out. Happily we greeted each other and then processed outside.  Streets of terraced houses packed tightly around the church. Facing these neighbours we let rip with 'The Lord's my Shepherd.'  It was a memorable way to begin the new year.

Though the hymnbook  used during those 21 years had a section of hymns specifically for the Old and New Year we rarely sang any of them. But looking through I thought the words of this one is worth repeating as we enter 2023.  It has a deep seriousness, shared with many of these hymns. No bubbly enthusiasm here!  And, yes, it does have Thees and thous etc. Written by L. Tuttiettt (1825-97).

Father let me dedicate 

All this year to Thee,

In whatever worldly state 

Thou wouldst have me be;

Not from sorrow, pain, or care

Freedom dare I claim;

This alone shall be my prayer

 "Glorify Thy name,"

If Thou callest to the cross,

And its shadow come,

Turning all my gain to loss,

Shrouding heart and home:

Let me think how Thy dear Son 

To His glory came

And in deepest woe pray on, 

"Glorify Thy name."

If in mercy Thou wilt spare

Joys that yet are mine,

If on life, serene and fair, 

Brighter rays may shine, 

Let my glad heart, while it sings,  

In all proclaim:

And whate'er the future brings, 

"Glorify Thy name."

So, quite a challenge! To enter 2023 saying "Glorify Thy name" whatever happens.  May this be a year knowing God's love on every step of your journey.   

The Appropriate Gift

Imprisoned by sciatica I escaped in reading including Rosemary Hill's biography of Pugin, God's architect. It's a dense read and co-codamol and diazepam slowed my progress.  Undeniably Pugin's short dramatic life impacted Britain with his visionary Gothic architecture. Hyper-active and hyper-creative he designed cathedrals (Punch magazine said he could do one it in 45 minutes), churches, houses, furnishings with side-lines like Big Ben and inside Parliament.  So many details are fascinating such as his designing the interior of the chapel in Jesus College Cambridge (of special interest to me)  The interweaving of his Roman Catholic faith with his work and relationships threads right through. Family life was important to him as was romance but his unstoppable work rate made him increasingly remote. 

One paragraph struck me.  In 1840 with a son Cuthbert just born and Agnes aged 4, Rosemary Hill writes;

He was a fond father but at the time a distant and intensely preoccupied one.  His daughter Agnes later told her granddaughter that she remembers Pugin saying that for her birthday that year he had designed a cathedral.  She also remembered being very disappointed.

The sheer inappropriateness of the gift seems not to have crossed Pugin's mind. He wanted to give her something magnificent but unsurprisingly the four-year old was disappointed. It was all a tad beyond a child's wants and appreciation.

I haven't preached much recently but this struck me as a commentary note on the Incarnation and its sheer appropriateness.  God could have overwhelmed with magnificence, but a baby in a manger can be understood by all.  The whole miracle of Jesus being among us shrinks glory into a Lord who lives like us. Who can be easily rejected.  But, when taken seriously will never disappoint. 

 

Have a glorious Christmas

After this long (welcome to some) silence, I thankfully break into cyberspace in time to greet you as we race to Christmas Day.  At last my pain is subsiding and my leg has returned to near normal usage.  The doctor warned me that it would likely take up to eight weeks and he was right. Though physiotherapy, acupuncture, erratic exercises have helped the process.  So, I shall be able to worship tomorrow morning in flesh, which is rather what, on the biggest scale imaginable, the world-changing miracle of Christmas is all about. God coming in flesh among us. 

On Facebook yesterday I saw a quote from one of my favourite authors, E. Stanley Jones. "The early Christians did not say in dismay 'Look what the world has come to,' but in delight 'Look at what has come into the world'."

Today's reading in a book of readings through the year, has Catherine Booth (wife of William Booth)  writing on the mystery of the Incarnation.  

Humanity must have a deliverer able to save, and no less than the Almighty deliverer was equal to the task. Here all merely human deliverers, all philosophers and teachers of the world had failed because they could only teach, they could not renew... rectify the heart. They could set up a standard, enunciate a doctrine, but they could not remove man's inability....Man needed some being outside of himself, above him and yet able to understand and pity him in his utmost guilt and misery, and helplessness - able to inspire him with a new life, to impart light, love, strength, and endurance, and to do this always and everywhere, in every hour of darkness, temptation and danger....God's expedient for showing this to man was to come in the flesh. How else could God have revealed himself to fallen man?

So, enjoy a glorious Christmas tomorrow wherever you are and celebrate this best news this world had ever heard.  God has intervened to deliver us. With delight let's say "Look at what has come into our world".