www.

Yesterday's woes were all to do with the database.

Today the website's been the problem that I've faced.

Well, not so much the website as the access to the thing. For editing purposes.

You can still go onto the internet and find the church's website. Except now it's kind of 'frozen' in time. And therefore, day by day getting more and more out of date.

Don't ask me exactly what happened earlier on this week. It was one of those great disappearing tricks where the the whole thing, well, disappeared.

I went into the programme we use for updating the website pages. And all that was left was half a page! The rest had simply disappeared!

I've been taking advice and having folk in - and the end of it all is the route we'll adopt with the database now as well. Starting all over again.

Rebuilding the thing from scratch. Of course, like the database, too, it's not entirely from scratch. The data's still there. We can copy the text from the website you see on the internet. The website now frozen in time.

Building the whole thing again. Twice in two days in two separate realms, we've been forced to go down this same route.

First the database. Now the website, too.

I just have the strangest feeling that this two-pronged little challenge is a lesson from the Lord. A kind of visual aid, to help me get the picture.

The task that lies to hand involves, effectively, rebuilding the church again. Going back to square one (as in back to the call that Jesus gave to follow him). And starting all over again.

There's a 'website' still out there which anyone wishing can see. It's called 'the church'. Come and visit us!

And sure, like our website just now, it's getting, as each day goes by, progressively out of date.

But all the while, behind that rather 'frozen' sort of 'front' that's called 'the church', a whole new sort of website's being built. We're working on that. Behind the scenes. And there's lots we can copy across, of course.

But I guess that's what we're called upon to do these days. And I think that's what the Lord is maybe saying through this dual set of problems that we've had with our technology.

Anyway, I've spent some time on that today. And working on material for our newly re-vamped notice-board. Which reflects, I suppose, the building that we're doing from the ground.

And all the preparation that I've done as well, I guess that, too, is pretty much the process of rebuilding. Bit by bit developing the embryonic life of God's new thing.

Going back to square one and building the thing from scratch.

I think I'm getting the message!

It was Genesis 1 we looked at when I met with those two couples back on Wednesday night. Perhaps that was prophetic for us all! In the beginning God created...

the promised land

I'd be hopeless on TV's 'Countdown'.

Tell me I've got 30 seconds left and the timer's started running - and I just can't concentrate at all. It makes me nervous.

I've only got thought for the time I've got left and how it's all just flying away and I'm not any nearer the answer.

In fact, I'm not even thinking about the answer, I'm thinking about the time. Or the lack of time.

Like I say, that sort of thing makes me nervous.

So the mail today didn't help. I had a letter which started with a 'Countdown' sort of line.

Ten years to go.

It was from the Church of Scotland. Technically my employer, I suppose.

It was actually an invitation. But it read, or felt, like an ultimatum. The clock is ticking on my working life. You're down to your last ten years.

To be fair, the letter reflected a genuine pastoral care.

They were keen to be helpful and give me the chance to prepare for retirement as well as I possibly can.

But it caught me cold and brought me up short, the heading was so abrupt.

Like I say, it makes me nervous, that sort of thing. I start thinking about the time, the clock, the seconds rushing by. Instead of the tasks to hand.

I don't really want to retire, I guess. That's where I'm at.

And I don't really think that I will. Retirement's maybe more a sort of comma in the elongated sentence of our lives: and not the final full stop at its end.

It's odd how this letter today was the third in a list of reminders I've had on the theme of retirement from work. All in the space of a day. Like the Lord himself was bringing the subject up. Which I really wish he hadn't!

Last night the matter came up. John was the one who brought it up.

He's been struggling with things at his work for a while and then, he declared, it's been just as if God has been leading him on, like he'd led the people of Israel on, 'til he was now, like the Israelites long, long ago, at the edge of the promised land.

"The promised land: it's there, it's yours." Retirement.

That's what he said it's felt like for him. "Go in and possess the land. Don't footer around like the Israelites did and wait who knows how many years. Go in and possess it now."

Early retirement. So he's grasped it with both his hands. The promised land!

Well, that was last night. It was an interesting, novel, really rather striking way of thinking of retirement.

Then today, a large part of the morning has been spent with a guy who's just, this very day, retired. I felt quite privileged! His very first day of retirement - and he chose to spend it with us.

We have a problem.

A technical, computer-type problem. Mainly to do with the database - which has basically lost the plot. Or entered into a kind of digital equivalent of early-stage alzheimer's.

There's an awful lot of data there, of course. And up to now the database has coped.

It does what you ask it to do. Gives you the lists you're looking for. Sorts the data for you and produces what you want.

Well, the guy who came is something of an expert in this field. He talked it through and summed the whole thing up by saying that we'd reached the point where really it was better if we simply sort of drew a line and started out again.

As in create a new database.

It crossed my mind that this was maybe just exactly how he felt himself today.

Retirement and all that. Draw a line and start again. A whole new sphere of ministry is maybe what God opens up the day that you retire.

I don't know. I've got ten years left to think about it, though. I should remember that.

It also crossed my mind, a little later on when I was out and calling on some folk now in a nursing home - it crossed my mind that this is maybe also just what death is like.

A line being drawn to give us then the chance to start again.

Our minds can get to be a bit like our dear database has grown to be. Confused, perplexed, and not so nearly able to produce the goods as once they did.

The folk I was seeing were all really very confused.

The data's all there in their minds. Same as in the database. It's just they're not so able now to sort the data through and then present it in an ordered sort of way.

I try to hit the buttons which will trigger lines of thought. Names of sons and daughters, or of friends and long-time neighbours that they've known. Certain bits of Scripture which they've known perhaps from teenage years or childhood or before.

But most of the time, while the data's there, the processing skills have all gone.

Death is God's way of drawing the line and simply saying - Let's start again.

The data's not lost! At least so the guy told me today. We can take all the data, transfer it across, so we'll not be just starting from scratch.

I guess heaven's like that as well. The data gets transferred across. Names and faces, people, places, memories. We won't be starting from scratch.

We just get to start once again. With equipment that finally works!

Maybe retirement's like that - a sort of practice run at drawing lines and starting out again.

To get us in the mood for that great day when God comes in and draws the final line and makes us wholly new.

giving sight to the blind

While driving back home from the Hospice this afternoon, I was listening to the radio.

I heard a most remarkable story. It was about a man who, two years back or so, was blinded - as he thought for life. Some molten aluminium had exploded in his eyes and left him blind.

And now, by means of some strange and amazing surgery, now the man could see.

They didn't go into the details that much (thankfully!). But the drift of it was that the man had been enabled now to see by means of his son's tooth.

(Yes, I did a swift double take as well and wondered if I'd heard the thing aright!)

The surgeon, it seems, had removed the actual eye-ball, done some sort of 'clean-up' work with the eye-socket and somehow inserted the man's son's tooth, with a hole drilled through that tooth and a lens now set in place. And now the guy, who'd thought at first he'd never see again - now, as I say, the guy can see.

I have to say I checked the date. I thought, it's not even the first of March, let alone April! I thought, it's not St Patrick's Day or anything (the man whose blindness had been cured was Irish, we'd been told).

You can see, my mind was working overtime to try and figure out the catch! I mean, this was the BBC: and if you hear it from the Beeb .. well, it must be true!

Anyway. Amazing, I thought, how sight can so simply be given to folk, who otherwise are blind.

Which is what I'm always trying to do myself, I guess. Give sight to the blind.

It's not exploding, molten aluminium which has left so many blind today. But something else. Maybe the speed and the hot intensity of the life our society lives. Maybe the bright attractions of so many modern 'things'. I don't know.

But there's something today which has blinded the eyes of countless folk and keeps them now from seeing beyond the things that meet the eye.

A blindness which means that God just can't be seen.

Today I seemed to be reminded that it's often in the strangest ways God makes the blind to see.

Like being at the Hospice itself. Which is where I'd just been when I heard this bit of news.

And I started to think of the way that the folk I'd been seeing in the Hospice had caught a glimpse of God. Just by my being at their side. Chatting with them. Praying with them.

For them, at that time, with the sockets of their sight of God perhaps removed a bit by all the way their cancer's wreaking havoc in their bodies and their lives - for them, at that time, a simple thing, like being there at their side and taking time with them, a simple thing like that was pretty much the 'tooth-encompassed lens' by which they caught a sight of God.

I started to think of all that my day had held and how it is that sight is being restored to those who have been blinded by those forces of 'exploding smolten aluminium' of our modern life.

It's little things that often are the lens that people need. Things you'd never think would be the means of giving sight.

I mean, if you'd told me before today that a tooth, with its centre drilled out, could be in itself the means of a man who'd been blinded being able completely to see ... well, I simply would not have believed it.

Like, how often have you found yourself accosted with the words, 'Lend me your tooth, so I can see!' I mean ...!

So I ran through my mind the countless little episodes my day has held. And I started to think that maybe all of these are in their way just 'teeth with their centres drilled through'.

Little things of no great consequence at all which somehow in the providence of God become the means whereby another sees.

Going along to the school and being there at important events. The assembly again, this morning. Being pleasant and thoughtful and courteous and kind to the teachers and staff, and the children, of course, as well.

A tooth with its centre drilled through. A means whereby some folk who've never really caught a glimpse of God, perhaps begin to see.

The midweek lunchtime service with the lunch that people share. For many there, perhaps that too provides a 'tooth-encompassed lens' whereby, amidst the empty-socket loneliness of life, they catch the sight of God.

The little acts of kindness through the day. Like carrying up the steps to the Reception Area here a little baby's car-seat (with the baby snuggled down and fast asleep therein). A tiny bit of help towards a mother as she struggles with the ceaseless-seeming burdens of her life.

She'd come for her lunch the previous day. For the first time, I think. And here she was back, to meet with her friends again. Little acts of kindness. Perhaps they are, more times than we might ever think, perhaps they are the 'tooth-encompassed lenses' people need.

Which help them see.

Or sitting round the table with some friends at night, exploring how God's working in our lives.

Tonight was just another sort of milestone on the journey that the couple I've been seeing this past year have made. Expanding from it being just the three of us to include another couple.

The three grows into five. In subtle ways as well the whole dynamics sort of change. And we all grow. We all begin to get a better view of who God is and what he's like and what it is he means we should enjoy.

A guy once famously sent a message to Jesus in which he simply asked - Are you the one?

And Jesus replied - The blind see!

This guy does miracles. Not the least of which is enabling the blind to see.

I'm keen to get my teeth into this work!

service

Boilers are a bit like dogs, I suppose.

They bring a warmth of a sorts to the house. And by the time they're 13 years old or so, you're starting to sense that they're maybe on their last legs.

Our boiler's been there for close on 19 years, I guess. And for the past few years it's begun to feel (or at least to show) its age.

The annual gas inspection guy who comes with the maintenance contract, he always sort of hums and haws and makes 'Ah, well, you know it doesn't comply...' noises. Very 'knowing' noises.

Like the vet who's seeing to your dog. And wants to break the news to you slowly.

The gas man's been doing that very slowly. For the last few years.

Anyway, there were folk around today to give some quotes for replacing the dodgy boiler ('dodgy', not 'doggy' for those who speed read these posts!).

Because it's the church that pays for this, we need at least a couple of quotes. So we had two different guys round today. One immediately after the other.

It was a fascinating study in contrasts, I have to say. Two very different men. And totally different approaches. I was intrigued and really quite challenged as well.

The first was a 'salesman' at heart. He knew his stuff, could quote you facts and figures, give you illustrations and race through any amount of information in a single breath.

Impressive in his way. Articulate, persuasive and clear. With a glossy brochure to boot.

The second was much more down to earth. No brochure. No 'patter'. No nonsense. He was an engineer. His business is fixing things, making things work.

And he knew his stuff as well, of course. But in a different way. He had 'expertise', I think, while the other guy had merely loads of 'knowledge'.

They both were wearing their company tops. I'm not entirely sure of this, but I thought, if I caught the names aright - I thought the very names were in fact the give-away.

One (I think) was called S_____ Products (I can't give the name in full since that might lead to libel and I wouldn't want to open myself to that - this guy knew his stuff, remember!). The other was W_____ Gas Services.

Those may or may not have been the two firm's names. But that was without doubt the essence of the difference between the two of them.

One was selling a product. The other was providing a service.

I found it very challenging to meet them, watch them, hear them as they went about their work. And see how very different they were.

Challenging because it made me stop and ponder how I live my life myself. Which one of these I am.

The way I live my life, the way I go about the ministry I'm seeking here to exercise - am I simply selling a product? Is that how it comes across?

Or am I providing a service? (And I don't mean the Sunday thing). Am I actually serving people's needs, making their lives work?

Well, it made me wonder, I'm bound to say. Because half the time I think it's all too tempting to become in truth no more than just a salesman. A lot of knowledge, which can seem really pretty impressive.

But people want life to be fixed. They're keen that their lives should 'work'. They're mostly wanting service more than knowledge.

That's what we're trying to create in the communal life that we lead here in these days. We're trying to follow Jesus and we see that means, not knowing loads of Bible texts, but serving people's needs.

We're trying to create an environment where that is the ethos throughout. This willingness to serve. This gift from God in fixing things and making all life work.

We're trying to instil an outlook on life which sees folk willing to serve. Always. With everyone. At every single level of their lives.

No strings attached. No knocking off at 5 o'clock because .. well, hey, I've done my shift.

It's a life we're seeking to live, a lifestyle we're trying to adopt. The life and the lifestyle of this guy Jesus. Who was far more an engineer, I think, than just some sort of knowledgeable travelling salesman.

So I started the day with the making of soups. Service.

It's good for me to start the day like this. It puts me in a place where all too plainly I've a lot to learn. Not by a million miles do I know it all. But I'm ready to learn. Ready to take my turn and give it a shot.

(I know enough, of course, having been on a food hygiene course, to stick within parameters which mean the soups should be safe enough to eat!)

By starting a Tuesday in this sort of way, I'm reminded of what we're about. Providing a service, not selling a product.

And a large part of my day was then with people. Sort of fixing the boiler stuff. Trying to make life work. Trying to figure out with different folk how best to make life work.

There are often situations which are like an ageing boiler. Relationships can be like that. Things can start to go wrong.

What people need when life's like that is not the slick communication skills a salesman has, nor even all the knowledge he can spout. They need a down-to-earth and expert engineer.

A guy who can fix things. Who knows where to start and what to do and how to make it work.

That's what we're seeking, by God's good grace, our life as his people becomes. A people who simply serve. Across the board of life.

If we wore a company coat (and some of the folk who came in today suggested we maybe adopt a uniform dress! But I'm not wearing dresses, no way!), then the name might simply say 'Life Services'.

I've been busy today. A lot of folk to see, right on through 'til maybe 10 or so at night. And not a lot of 'preparation' time. But that's not really all that bad a thing. I'm more an 'engineer', I hope, than just some smart and slickly polished peddler of some product called 'the gospel'.

But I did have some time to think. A lot of 'walking' time. I'd taken the car, which my Mum used to drive - I'd taken it up to be sold at the garage she actually bought it from a good few years ago.

The guy was very pleasant and the deal he worked was good. (I suppose he was another sort of salesman in his way!). But it meant a long walk back. A good four or five miles.

It was great having time like that. No phones. No e-mails pinging in. No people calling by. Just time to get some exercise and do some sort of 'engineering' thinking as I went along. Chewing on the problems that there are. And how they'll best be fixed.

While I was up at the garage in the salesman's room, I noticed the calendar there. It was actually a day out of date, which made me smile.

But it had this quote - 'The best mirror is an old friend'.

Which made me think again. A friend knows you. That's the reason why. Not in the sense of knowing all the details and of quoting all the facts. But having the 'expertise'.

He's lived with you and been with you and knows you through and through. And that's why he can help you see the things you'll not be able ever otherwise to see.

It crossed my mind that that's what we're about in following Jesus Christ.

Yes, maybe we're a day behind in many things. But friendship is the 'engineering' work we do. Knowing folk like that. Like the engineer has come to know these boilers, since he's worked with them so much.

Knowing this guy Jesus, since we've worked with him and been with him spent such time with him across the days we kind of 'know' him inside out. As he knows us.

And getting to know the folk around us here like that as well.

We don't have a product to sell. We're keen only to offer a service.

going green

Maybe it happens with age.

But I seem to get 'greener' as every day goes by.

More and more aware that if we recognise the Lord as being creator of all things (like the world we live in), then all the noisy, vibrant, with-it 'Hallelujah' songs we sing are really pretty meaningless if they are not daily mirrored in the care we take of his created world.

I mean, God's being the great creator is really fairly basic as a truth the Scriptures teach. They start with that. And they end with that. And most things in between are all about the care God has for good old planet earth.

But hey, maybe it is an age thing.

I started the day by addressing some tasks I've been meaning to do for a while. The common end of which is to make things a whole load easier for my next of kin when I die. (I was going to say 'if I die..' but, of course, there isn't an 'if' about it, I guess - short of the Lord's return).

My Dad and Mum now both being dead in a strange sort of way leaves me feeling much more 'vulnerable'. Stupid really. Because I could die any time. But it's just with neither of the two of them being any longer there as a kind of generational 'buffer', then I'm now in the generational 'front line'.

Time to put my affairs in order! That puts it a bit strongly, though, I have to say. These were really pretty little tasks I've been meaning to do for a while. So that if I suddenly died, then folk would have some sort of clue as to where to find the things they needed to find. That sort of thing.

So maybe, yes, maybe it's an age thing. Every day that goes by is one less day I have to do what I mean to do with my life. And as the clock ticks on, I guess it's bound to bring a certain urgency to how I live my life.

I was thinking about 'environment' today. I started (after attending to these what-to-do-when-I-die administrative tasks I'd set myself) with the day by day environment of work.

I did some work on that. Tidying up and vacuuming. Relocating bits and pieces here and there which sort of cluttered up the place. Fruit in the bowl. That sort of thing. Environment.

The environment of work. If I can't care much about that tiny little world which is the place of work, then I needn't really bother with the bigger world out there.

The first step may be pretty small. But you have to start somewhere. And I started with the work-place where I'm at.

Over lunch I was back at the school. It's SU day.

We had a good crowd of children again and we were chatting about the story Jesus told about the five smart girls and the five foolish girls.

I think they thought it kind of scary when they counted up and found that there were ten of them today. All girls! They thought that we were making up the numbers as we went along until we showed them what the Bible said.

You could see them sort of looking at each other, like this was really getting rather personal!

They were full of ideas as to how we could be ready for the coming of the Lord. All the usual stuff, of course. Reading the Bible and praying. That sort of thing.

But they also came up with the notion of sort of 'decorating' the world. Like you'd sometimes decorate the house if you were waiting for a special friend to come.

So I got them thinking about exactly how they might do that and 'decorate' the world. Some of them said, 'The world's too big, it would take you far too long!' (I think they were maybe thinking rather literally).

So I said, 'Well, you start where you are. Your home, your school. You start your decorating there. Making it a better, brighter place. By what you do and how you speak. That sort of thing.'

They started to get the picture. One of them said, 'I'm going to France for my holidays. I could decorate France!' And once we got onto holiday destinations, I think the whole world could soon have been covered.

You start somewhere. Where you are. You start to make the changes there.

I went on from there to a meeting of the team who run the Reception Area here. We've been thinking a lot along just these lines in recent years.

(They're all about ages with me, give or take a year or two. Or more. So maybe it's an age thing again!)

The ways in which we can do a bit more than merely tinker with environmental care. We all believe quite strongly that it's no use waiting round for someone else to give the lead.

Sometimes you just have to go out and give such a lead yourself. We're planning to do just that.

It was a planning meeting. Planning a day some months ahead when the challenge to treat God's creation aright can all be worked through and addressed.

We're keen to instil a whole new way of thinking which in bold and most imaginative ways provides a lead which all the village and beyond can gladly follow. So that together we're able to 'decorate' the world the way it's surely meant to be.

And show the whole community the difference that our recognising God as being Creator, and our worshipping him as such, can make.

Why should we always be the ones who're doing the catching up?

A lot of time was spent on that this afternoon. It excites me no end! I picture the whole community beginning to get involved, beginning to share a large-scale common enterprise.

As the children at the SU group began to feel - the message of the Bible is really rather personal!

Like the finger's somehow pointed right at us.

'Roll up your sleeves. Get out in the field. Starting worshipping God with dirty hands. Start playing your Sunday guitars with fingers radically green'

space

My day today had its heart very much in the service of thanksgiving held, mid-day, across on the south side of town.

Mortonhall Crematorium is a relatively modern building, a striking example of the work of Basil Spence.

Never mind that the roof was leaking and the water was pouring down like a leaking tap. It made the whole odd notion of 'baptising the dead' begin to make some sense (I'm kidding, of course!).

It's a spacious sort of building. Simple and, in its own very concrete way, sort of 'soaring' as well. A dignified setting, without ever going over-the-top. And the grounds are very spacious and spread out as well.

I guess it's 'space' we need at times like this. And the worship we engage in at such times as this, that, too, affords us 'space'. Space within the broad and warm expansiveness of God. Space to mourn and grieve and feel ourselves enfolded in the comfort of God's presence and his care.

You can't do that in a cramped and rushed environment. God's too big to fit in neat, little corner cupboards in our lives. He needs the space. We need to give him space.

And Basil Spence's building does just that, of course.

It was in the larger chapel that the service was being held. Which was just as well, both in terms of the numbers of people present and the time the whole thing took.

I think, like George himself, the modest, quiet humility of Ruth had made her feel there wouldn't be a massive crowd of people gathered there. But there were. Loads of folk, from all different parts of George's life. And a wonderful spirit of praise.

One of the mourners present came up and spoke with me thereafter. She was expressing appreciation and she said - You've obviously done this before!

Not with George I haven't! I laughingly replied.

But it made me think of a different sort of space we need. The space to learn, to work at things. To make mistakes.

I think that's something Jesus gave his followers. And gives us, too. Space to learn just how life can be lived.

And I'm glad of the space he gives to me like that. He runs a risk in using folk like me. But he sees not only what I am, but also what I may yet be as well.

He thinks in that future tense. And he gives me the space to grow into the future stature which he longs that I should reach.

The family had laid on a lunch for folk and they'd kindly asked me back.

Space again. A bright and upstairs room within the Royal Burgess Clubhouse. With a wonderful view right across the spacious golf course.

And the space to talk, of course. Too often in our pressurised, diarised lives, there isn't the space to talk. We maybe sometimes pencil in a 'block of time', a 'slot'. But 'slots of time' are not the same as space.

And it's space we need. Not least at times like this. The space to talk. It was lovely to meet such a range of folk and bask in the reservoir of memories that all of them retained of George. So many different people and so many varied ways in which they'd each of them known George.

It was like having the chance to see the man through just so many different pairs of eyes.

Most folk feel much better in the aftermath of sharing time like that.

It's a sad day always, of course. But there's something refreshing and cleansing in enjoying occasions like that.

The space to enjoy the expansive compassion and care of the Lord, an oceanful of gently lapping waves of soothing grace caressing all the sorrows, hurts and burdens of our hearts.

The space for us to go out and explore again the good things in our lives, the people who have meant so much to us, the memories that we've shared.

The space to talk, to reconnect, to find out once again, without the pressures or constraints of modern life, the beauty of community - the riches of our family life, the bonds of lasting friendships which unite us in that network of humanity.

It was a good day. And the space, there was in all these different ways, to mark again the end of George's life - that space spread out and spanned (what with the travel there and back as well) the larger part of all my day has held.

There wasn't much space for anything else!

A bit of preparation. But not that much. A bit of writing letters. But not that much. A bit of seeing people. But not that much.

God made the world in such a way that all of us should have the 'space' we need.

But we crowd our time, we crowd our daily diaries 'til every moment's spoken for and spent; we cram our different places with so many chunky things.

No wonder, then, no wonder we don't find we seem to have the space we, deep down, know we need.

words

I've been working with words, really, most of the day.

Sometimes it's been spoken words, the words of conversation, I've been working with. But mainly with the written word, those words which have capacity for so much more than just the here and now.

I've been thinking a bit about words today. Impressed by the way that the Lord from the outset insists we treat all words with reverence and care. At least, that's how I read what he said on those tablets of stone.

Words are the building blocks whereby community is built. The cells of blood which, pumped each day through all the farthest reaches of the body of society's life, ensure there is a warmth and life and beauty to it all.

They need to be respected, words. Treated and handled with care. Used in a way that keeps them in prime condition.

Some of the day it's been very practical stuff, my use of words. The secretary here's been away today, so some of the time I've been dealing with tasks, and engaging with people, that normally she'd have addressed on her own.

Enquiries about the halls we have, bookings coming in. Forms to be filled, advice on the use of the halls, discussion with some in regard to the booking they've long since made. Sorting out with others all the details of a booking maybe 9 months hence, as if it was tomorrow there was such a pressing urgency it seemed.

It's never dull! And I'm never left twiddling my thumbs, at a loss over what I might do!

But it's been words, as I say, I've been working with most of the day.

In these routine conversations - mostly on the phone - I was struck again about the impact that the words we use can have. And the way we use the words we use. If that's not me being confused!

The careful use of a person's name. Remembered, and used in a context where greetings and blessing can both in their ways be employed. Just in the course of normal conversation.

Politeness and courtesy, tone of voice. They all are bound up with this working with words. When we choose and use our every word with the care and respect God commends, society itself works well.

At least, that's what I take him to mean. When he set down his words on the tablets of stone.

I popped round to the school again, of course, it being a Thursday today. There wasn't the time for a coffee, but there's always the time for a chat!

I couldn't find the staff at first. They've moved things round within the school and found themselves a new and larger staff-room. Spacious and bright with comfortable chairs - and more than enough to go round.

What a massive difference our environment can make! The space, the light, the seating, all alike - they made the place relaxing in themselves.

I think our words are like that. They create 'environment' and thus themselves can put us all at ease and help us all relax and give to us a restfulness of spirit and a hopefulness of heart.

Our words can create a sort of 'space' or 'spaciousness' within the human spirit. Our words can be as 'light', subtly bringing brightness on days that maybe otherwise are dark and bleak and dreich. Our words can strangely generate that 'comfort' which enables those we speak with to relax and feel refreshed.

Spoken words. Amazing things when chosen and used with care.

So even ten short minutes in a busy teachers' break can see the words of conversation being a part of that environment which turns a brief and fleeting break into real rest.

But alongside all of that, the spoken words, and woven through them all, there's been as well a large amount of time I've spent on working with the written word.

Preparing the message, a tribute to George, for the service we'll hold tomorrow.

A tribute to George? Well, only in part, I suppose. He was himself such a modest, unassuming man, he would not have wished a thing like that at all.

So it's more, I think, a portrait of the man that I've been painting with my words.

Not a sketch, with words that are hastily thrown across the page.

But a portrait, where each and every word, and the way those words are all combined together, is the product of a careful, well-considered choice.

Like an artist, with that eye he has for just the perfect colour that he's looking for, mixing paints aross his pallette and, with gentle, expert brush-strokes, painting all the smallest details on the canvas that he has.

It's working with words. And it takes time. Choosing and using every word that's involved with the care and respect God insists they must always receive.

But as well as the message tomorrow requires, I've been working with words in a paper regarding The Lot. Seeking the words to convey what the whole thing's about. The vision.

It's one thing to know what the vision is. But it needs to be shared as well.

What we have, by the grace of God, begun to see already in the hidden, mostly future, realm of God's eternal purposes, must now be given shape and form for all to clearly see.

Words are the way that happens. Words are the bridge between those worlds - the world of God's future tense and the world of the here and now.

Again it takes time. But to build such a bridge brings potential for change.

And the 'worship' involved (that's what the work is) in the choice and the use of the words is an altar on which, as Elijah the prophet once proved, the fire of the Lord, the Spirit of God, will fall.

To which I say, as another day of working with such words concludes - to which I say 'Amen'!

dance and tapestry

It was school again, first thing, today.

I was on my way, and running late (literally) when a man I know called after me - You don't have to run, you know!

Little did he know. I did have to run. I was late.

And it felt like that all day. Running. Just to keep up with it all. And most of the time feeling late.

No wonder the Lord speaks of walking all the time. We live too fast. And try to pack just far too much into our days. Or so it seems.

But then I'm thinking there were surely days when Jesus too had barely half a moment to himself. It may have been walking, the way he lived his life: but some of the time I think it was really pretty much 'power'-walking.

I mean, the guy got around and managed to do a fair old whack in the course of a single day. Not rushed. But busy all right.

So I don't feel bad when I've had a day as busy as this has been. It's just the way it is, sometimes. Like some old-time, ballroom dancing sort of thing. Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow.

Life can be lived as a dance like that. I think that's pretty much how Jesus lived his life. Moving with the music of eternity. Sometimes slow and measured; and sometimes quick and action-packed and leaving us all breathless with the speed with which he gets things done.

If life is a dance, today was a quick-step for sure.

In at the school, first thing, as I say. A P4-7 assembly, with some of the children from P7 giving their own presentation.

They'd done a survey through the upper school and found that among the pupils there were 15 different languages they spoke (none of which was Glaswegian in case you were wondering!). It's quite a thought, the extent to which a school like this is now intrinsically multi-cultural.

Anyway, they'd come up with a list of 'key statements' relating to ensuring racial equality within the life of the school. And because these statements all were written by the children of P7, it was really quite moving to see their commitment to peace and to equality.

The Head is doing a brilliant job, I have to say.

From there it was on, to a meeting, at quite some length, to try and resolve some difficult issues which have threatened to start runing wild.

It's good through times like that to be aware of God himself being always very present with us all. Unseen, unheard, but always there. Helping to resolve the thing when any resolution seems impossible.

It isn't just in high, exalted moments in our worship here on Sundays that the Lord is known. It's mostly in the awkwardness and nitty-gritty problems life throws up.

So, a lengthy meeting tackling things like that. Then on from that to yet another meeting. This time about The Lot (the place up town).

I sometimes think that what we're trying to do up there is rather like a pioneering farmer in the days of old. Breaking up new ground. Ploughing up terrain that's been an overgrown, uncultivated wilderness for years.

We're trying to farm the future, as it were. Trying to figure out what following Christ might look like when the mould we have adopted over many, many centuries, is finally removed.

It's exciting and tough. But I think we made progress again. And it left me enthused and eager to keep pressing on.

We had to close abruptly (I mean, we could have gone on for hours I think, it was just so good!) since the midweek lunchtime service was about to start.

And from there it was back to the office to meet with a couple with the skills and the knowledge to help with a problem we've got with our database. Computers are great when they work. But when they don't they're a bind!

At least, they 'bind us together', I guess. They were glad to help and they're off to suss it out, I think. So maybe there'll be progress on that front.

But I had to leave them at it since another meeting beckoned. And after that some other folk to see. And about four o'clock it crossed my mind I hadn't had my lunch. It was that sort of day, as I say!

And it just went on like that, with things to do and folk to see tiny little moments here and there to give some thought to what the Lord is eager to be saying to us all this coming Sunday as we join again for worship.

His word is always running through my mind. And it's almost as if, the way such days as this have been, it's almost as if the Lord himself just weaves this word through all the different parts the day involves.

And thereby sort of slowly gives a sort of picture of the message he imparts. Like the threads of his truth are woven into something like a tapestry. Because it's all been earthed in all the day by day complexities and cussedness of life.

The more I see this tapestry emerging through the week, the more I am excited by it all!

dreams

We talk rather loosely about our dreams.

The ones that I have through the night I seem to forget almost as soon as I wake (if not before). Which probably means that my mind, when left to itself, is a total jungle of nonsense and my dreams aren't worth recalling.

But I do have dreams, of course. Dreams that I can articulate. Dreams which are the picture of the future which I've dared, in waking, conscious moments of my life, to draw.

A girl was in to see me here today. By appointment. She's from these parts (as in Edinburgh) but studying down in England now. And she's doing a dissertation on the way in which the services within the Church of Scotland might have changed across the years.

There aren't that many books on the subject, she declared. At least not down south in Reading where she's at. Hardly surprising, I suppose!

So, with the dearth of books down south, she's taken this week to tour these northern climes and interview some ministers. What a pleasant girl she is! And what a pleasant hour it was to work through all the issues she was asking me about.

But she closed by simply asking me to tell her what I dream of for the worship of the people here. My dreams.

It was good to be put on the spot like that. And great to have the chance to spell them out.

My dreams.

I have my dreams all right. And I like to think it's God himself who gives me all these 'waking', thought-through dreams. Because that's what he says - "your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams".

I don't think those words are age-specific, mind! Young and old alike, I think God says, will have these visions and these dreams. Which I do.

And they're dear to my heart and they drive me on. Because I think they're dreams that God himself has given me - a kind of trailer for the 'movie' of his purpose for us here, a sort of privileged preview of the things he means to do.

There's a guy in the Bible who had quite literal, through-the-night and very much in-his-sleep dreams. Joseph.

He seemed able to remember them, too, when he woke. Which, as I say, doesn't much happen with me.

But it does for some folk here. I think that's maybe how the Lord best speaks with them and makes it clear it's him and not their own imagination running wild.

One of the girls who does so much among us here (well, 'girl' is the way I think of her ... she's actually my age pretty much: but, then, I think of myself as just an over-grown boy!) - she was in to see me for a while this afternoon.

She'd been away last week. And she'd really sensed God speaking very clearly to her through that time.

She'd had a dream. A very clear and very vivid dream. Which she was still remembering almost one whole week thereafter. Not just the details of the dream, but what and how she felt within the dream.

Very vivid. Very clear. And very pertinent indeed.

Because she knew immediately what it meant. She knew it was a picture of ourselves, us followers of Jesus here. And she knew just what the challenge was. For all of us.

I think she found it both thrilling and humbling and scary - all at once.

But it was right on the button in terms of what God is saying to us these days and where we're at. And her telling me this was just another potent confirmation of God's word to us today.

I'll not go into the details. But she used the word 'enslaved'. I'd spoken myself along similar lines this Sunday past. About Israel's response to the Lord in the aftermath of his amazing rescue of them all from centuries of slavery and suffering in Egypt.

The people of Israel simply said, "The Lord hates us..."

I mean!! You'd hardly believe it.

Except that I see it and hear it so often myself. The victim mentality. And I'd suggested the victim mentality's bound up with years of enslavement.

Enslavement. And here she was again, this afternoon, with her dream and the picture she had of a person enslaved.

More than that, I'd met, before she spoke with me, I'd met with Douglas once again for lunch. And had the time of prayer as well we always have.

I'd asked him to pray in regard to an awkward, problematic situation that we have. Which I'm struggling to see how I can ever resolve. Douglas doesn't really know the half of it, so he's sort of praying 'blind', as it were, half the time.

And as he prayed he used these terms, this very self-same image, of a man who acts and works, not as a freedman and as a free son of the Lord, but as a slave.

It was like God himself gave him that precise picture, those specific, particular words, so that I would get the message. So that I'd be given the key to see what's going on.

Between the prayer and the dream, it was like God spoke. Made clear just what the nature of the problem that I'm facing is and how it's to be tackled.

There's a need, I'm now sure, for a fresh and mighty release of the great and delivering power of God. To set the slaves free.

And then the painful process, over who knows just how many years maybe, the long and paiinful process of replacing that mentality with something wholly new. The mindset and perspective of the free man.

In terms of the work that God's doing here, I began to see that maybe I, like Moses (I love making these huge and crazy comparisons, it sounds quite good!), will never actually enter into that whole realm of promise where he's leading us: maybe I'll no longer be around when that new thing I've dreamed of long enough at last is brought to pass.

Maybe my whole business is the raising up among God's people here, raising up a whole new generation who no longer have the mindset of the slave, but revel in the freedoms they've been given by the Lord.

Maybe it takes a whole generation to be rid of the stains and the scars of enslavement.

There are days like this when God seems to speak in a quite remarkable way.

He gives me dreams, and today it was as if he put me on the spot about those dreams. Through Emma, the student at Reading. Not that she'd have known she was the mouthpiece of the Lord!

And then he used that three-fold combination of the word that he had given me on Sunday past, the dream this girl was given while away from here on holiday last week, and the image Douglas found himself depicting as he prayed.

Like he said, that's the nub of the matter!

It doesn't solve the problem that I face. But it helps me understand the better what I think is going on. And maybe, too, it shows me how the thing can be resolved.

pain

A nice leisurely start to the week?

You'd better believe it! It's been one of those days when you hit the ground running. And then soon figure you'd better pick up some pace!

George died this morning. George was a dear and generous man who's been much involved in what we're doing here for a good many years. He had a sparkle in his eyes, a delightful sense of humour and quietly got on with any number of ways of humbling serving Christ.

He turned eighty a week or two back. And having hit that notable milestone of what the Authorised Version rather quaintly calls the 'even, by reason of strength, fourscore years', his body seemed to sort of call it all a day. Time's up.

He was barely in hospital a week. And this morning he died. In some ways it's best when it's simple and quick without being in any way 'sudden'.

He lived well and he died well too.

I knew he was poorly, so I'd gone in first thing to his hospital bed. But by then he had died. His wife has been great, bearing all of the sadness and all of the care with a strength and a poise so reflective of all that is good in the faith in the Lord that the two of them both always shared.

One of her sons was with her when I called on her a little later on. It's always a privilege to share in such family life. To catch a glimpse of what a person's like from inside their 'environment', their family, instead of, as so often, from outwith. It's humbling, as well, to see how well supported and surrounded by her family Ruth is. As George was too.

It reminds me again that that's how God intends our life to be. He sets the solitary in families. That's the kind of relational environment God means us to enjoy. And it's a lovely thing to see.

But 'family' life is not, of course, without its share of tensions and disquiet. And the 'family' life of the people of God is just the same as any other family you care to name.

So I've found myself spending a fair bit of time (as in good long hours, rather than a few fleeting moments here and there), involved in seeing folk and listening to the burdens (as they feel their lot to be) and talking through the issues which have made life problematic for these folk.

It's hard work in its way, and there aren't any easy short-cuts through it all. Today's been pretty full of that, one way and another.

Right on through to the meeting we had at night, relating to the path we have to follow as we seek to move on through to a whole new way of being and doing church.

As I say, there aren't any easy short-cuts. Which is a pity, because it makes for some long days - and some pretty late nights as well!

But I'm remembering these days it took a guy like Moses almost 40 years to get these folk, the Israelites, to the point where they could enjoy life as it's meant to be.

Good things come to those who wait. And who work hard at it through the waiting days.

So I've been on my sort of 'wanderings' today. The hospital, the hospice, an office up town. East and west and north and south. All over the place. Seeing folk, talking things through.

Trying to hammer out a future for us all.

The highlight of my day? I guess it came in the evening.

I was opening up the hall for the ladies of the Guild. They had a visiting speaker who was showing the ladies some slides.

And she had her own slide projector which was heavy the way they used to make these things, weighted down with a ton of bricks (as it were) to keep them from moving around

It was stored in the boot of her car in what I thought was quite appropriately a solid wooden box. Most people the age the projector was have long since ended up in a similar recepticle.

Anyway, I brought it in from the car for her and helped her set it up. Got the lighting all sorted out; the microphones, too. Attended to all her needs. A very pleasant lady, who looked positively young beside her projector.

At which she said (not to my saying she looked so young, because I didn't actually say that to her face - I might have upset her projector!) - "How lovely it is to come to a place where you're helped in every way!"

And I thought, that's it. That's just what we're about. Creating the sort of environment where it's lovely to be, where help is at hand, where you're welcomed and served and upbuilt.

Like Jesus. He was a kind of moveable version of just that sort of place.

It was good having him around. We want folk today to discover that too.