open doors

Well, it's already Tuesday evening and I haven't really started giving any sort of thought to Sunday's services! It looks like being that sort of week! Again.

Not that it troubles me much at all. I think it might have done a while ago. But not so much these days.

I'm trying to listen all the time. No matter what I'm doing. No matter what the other things may be that occupy my time.

I'm trying to listen to the Lord each day, not just despite the other things going on, but through those things as well. Discerning his voice through it all. Hearing his word. Getting the picture of what it is he's doing among us and through us these days.

There's a lot going on in the school, for sure!

I was in there again this morning. Primary 6 once again. And this time on Jesus' teaching. The preparation that I'd done yesterday morning was more than worth the time and trouble. I mean, preparing material for all of the class (it obviously helps to have given some thought to what I'm going to say and how I'm going to put it all across!).

It's good to be in with the pupils there - and to have the teachers sitting there as well. A kind of captive audience. Who knows just what's going on within their hearts as well.

I think it's worth the time invested in this way. Being in at the school like this. And it doesn't really seem to let up much at all!

I was signing in on arrival when even the secretaries started getting in on the act. They said there was a nativity the school was putting on. You must come in for that! So they gave me the times and the dates for that and I said that I'd do my best.

And then they said the Nursery, too, would like to have me along. Some singing thing the children there are doing all this week. So I asked about that and they told me the times each day and I said that I'd try and look in on them all on Thursday (when, if I've got my thinking straight, I'm probably in anyway!).

And I'm mentally noting the week's getting shorter by the moment!

But it's very much like the Lord has opened this door - the school - and I figure you go through such doors. They may not be open for long. They may not be open again. There isn't time to hum and haw, there isn't room to hesitate.

When the Lord opens up a door, it's our wisdom to walk straight through.

That's what I felt when the lady across at the surgery, too, had asked if I'd take a service at the cemetery to mark her uncle's death. It seemed as if the Lord himself was opening up another door.

I mean, quite literally! I was thinking about that again today. How the Lord has sort of given me a picture of the thing that he is doing in their lives. The folk across at the surgery.

Not that I know what he's doing in their lives, of course. But in order to see this lady, Liz, and chat about the service there would be, I went across to see her in the surgery.

I don't know how many times I've been there over the years. Loads. But I've never got beyond the waiting room, the front reception desk, or into the consulting rooms the doctors and the nurses have.

Nothing beyond the public 'front', in other words. But seeing Liz has meant that doors were opened up and there I was, right in behind the scenes and into what, in picturer terms, are pretty much their 'private' lives.

It seemed like that was a picture the Lord was giving me. That he himself was opening up the door for me to get beyond, at last, the merely public front. A further opportunity.

Well, the service was held today. A formal graveside service when the ashes were interred.

It was out at Newbattle, the cemetery there. It wasn't that hard to find and I was there in good time which meant I had the chance to meet and chat a bit with all the wider family who were gathered there.

The thing's quite short, of course. But the day was not too bad, not mild by any means, but not a biting wind or anything like that. A pleasant winter's day with a watery winter sun. And not a drop of wind.

It's strange standing there with a family like that. Being the only person there who's never met the man whose ashes are being placed within that final, earthy resting place. And being the one who's called upon to speak.

It's very hard as well to know just how it comes across. Or what is going on. What thoughts are running through their minds. What way their hearts are touched.

They obviously all had loved this man - for all the many troubles that he'd had, for all the 'wayward' life, as well, he'd lived. And here he was, a man of 57. Dead and gone.

A 'man' of 57? More like a boy, I think. A lovely, lively little grown-up boy who somehow ends up lost in life. Lost because he's looking all his life for something which we, all of us, are looking for. Just love. A love that's strong enough and long enough to take us in its arms and let us know we matter more than anything.

How many there are like this man. Just little lost boys. And girls.

I used what I thought would be well-known words, the words of the twenty third psalm. The sheep and the shepherd. The sheep which get easily lost. The shepherd who cares and accompanies them all of the time and then brings them all safely back home.

How we all need that. How our homes and how our families are often where we catch a glimpse of this. How times like this can help us see more clearly how our lives should best be lived.

As I say, it's hard to know just how the whole thing comes across for people whom I've never met before.

I went back for a bit (not long) to the home of the man's older brother. An invalid himself this man, confined to a bed since being knocked down by a bus some years ago. He hadn't been able to be there at the cemetery, of course. So I thought I should look in and see the man. Give him a sense of involvement that way.

Sometimes just our presence is the thing that people need. Not so much our words. Just a sense of the presence of God.

There were things to be done back here as well, so I couldn't delay too long.

There's a service again tomorrow, for one thing! I mean, not just the weekly Wednesday lunchtime service that we have. But a service of thanksgiving for another man who's died.

So I was round seeing his wife as well again and listening again for the word that the Lord means to speak.

Sometimes the word of the Lord comes early on and I catch a sense of what it is he means to say right from the start. Other times I have to wait. And wait. Most patiently.

This has been one of the latter times! I haven't been catching the word of the Lord at all in relation to this man. So I went on round with that in mind as well, concerned to offer comfort to his widow in her grief, of course: but eager, too, to hear at last what word the Lord was giving me to speak.

It's strange how it happens, but times like that are really very wonderful! Just sitting there and chatting with his widow, it was like the door just opened once again. The door to God's own word. The message which he wanted me to bring.

It's thrilling when it happens just like that. A relief as well, I'm bound to say!

Having caught the drift of what it was the Lord desired to speak, I spent a large part of the evening simply working on that word. Working at the detail. Choosing every word.

It takes a lot of time. But a service such as this, it opens doors to people's hearts. It's always worth the time that is invested in preparing.

Who knows what doors will open up tomorrow! But whenever the Lord opens doors, I'm willing to walk on through!