friends

Do I have any friends at the church?

That was one of the questions asked of me today when I was in with the P4 classes this afternoon.

It was a question and answer session. Part of the course they were doing on the Christian faith. And in finding out about ministers, vicars, priests, or any other name you care to choose and use, they thought it would be good to quiz a real live example.

Find out what a minister is (a servant - of God and people) and does (how long have you got?).

And what it's like (great!). And when did I decide that I'd become a minister (I didn't: it was God who made the call). And what I like best about being a minister (the chance to be involved with people, old and young alike) - and least (meetings which are a waste of time). And what's my favourite wedding (my son's!). And a whole load more of brilliant and imaginative questions.

It was great. An hour simply flew by. I love such times. The children are just so full of enquiry and want to know it all.

But the question which stuck in my mind was the one about my having friends. As if my being a 'minister' might somehow preclude me from being friends with folk.

So I tried to correct such notions as that by stressing how from the start the thing is simply all about our being friends. Being friends with Jesus. And then, as such, enjoying being friends with one another.

That's what it's all about, I said. So, yes, I have loads of friends at the church - because that's just what we are.

From there I went to the crematorium to conduct a service of thanksgiving for the life of an older .. well, 'friend' I should say (in the light of all the above!).

Except there weren't that many friends assembled there at all. In fact, there weren't that many folk full stop. Nine of us in all, I think. Some friends in Christ. And some who'd offered friendship to her in the care that they extended through her latter years.

It's sad when that's the case. Not how it's meant to be at all.

Relationships. That's Jesus' prime concern. It's there that he invested all his energies and time.

I'm slowly learning that. Trying to make time and give time to people.

Tonight's been the same. People. Not least the family of the man who'd died. His wife and children: his parents and brother: his mother- and father-in-law. All of them there. I hadn't met the man who'd died - nor any of his family.

That's always hard. Especially when the man was still so young. Only 41. And especially when he'd taken his own life. What can you say or do?

Nothing. Nothing, I guess, except extend somehow the arms of Jesus' friendship to a family in their grief. Sit with them and grieve with them and share somehow the burden of their pain and loss.

All so very different. The man was a brother and son, a husband and father, and son-in-law, too. Each of them there caught up in a grief that was shared but was strangely uniquely their own.

I often think at times like that it's not at all 'the minister' they want. The minister's just like all the futile paperwork that's got to be filled in: another hoop to go through in the drawing of that line beneath a person's life.

It's surely more a friend they need. But how to be a friend like that when as I ring the bell I'm just a total stranger to them all?

I think that's a part of what made this guy Jesus distinctive, attractive and loved. He approached a total stranger and at once could be their friend. Astonishing really.

But the way I'd like to learn to live myself.

So it was good to be able to end the evening with the couple who've now become friends: the couple whom I'm meeting week by week to chat through what it is to follow Jesus Christ.

A great time with them once again: having a laugh and learning a lot. Do I have friends? Of course I do! Loads of them. And I'm gaining more and more of them all the time!