'late'

People sometimes jokingly talk about a person being late for their own funeral.

It doesn't often happen in reality. But it did today.

There was a brief committal service at the crematorium before the service of thanksgiving we were holding back along here at the church.

Eleven o'clock we were due to start.

I was there. The family were there. A number of friends were also there.

But the hearse with the coffin was not to be seen at all. It had somehow got stuck in traffic. I can't think the family were all that pleased. It's hard enough when all goes well.

As we stood at the top of the steps and waited for the cortege to arrive, the organist turned and said to me that a funeral like this must take up really most of the day.

He was right. It does. And it did.

Seeing to all the little final preparations. Getting along (in time) to the local crematorium. The service there. Then back along for a fuller, longer service in the church. And then on to the buffet sort of meal they had thereafter at a place nearby. And walking back.

He was right. The bulk of the day is really given over to this single, special focus and this one important act. Drawing the line, in the presence of God, at the close of a person's life.

I've known the lady who died, of course - and all her family, too - for more than thirty years, I guess. So a day like today is really fairly personal. I mean, they always are. But it's the more so when you've known the folk for years.

It was a good day, though, and in many ways I'm glad there isn't time or opportunity for all that more. Such mourning is a thing that needs some space.

Space to meet with the Lord. And today there was a sense of that all right. A sense, I think, that every person there would've had. I hope so, anyway.

And a sense as well, I hope, that days like this afford us all the chance to re-assess our lives and get them back on track.

Often we're too busy to get down to things like that. And so we leave consideration of these big and weighty issues in relation to the Lord until it's far too late.

A bit like the hearse today. Is that why we often refer to the dead and deceased as 'the late' whatever their name may be?!

There are far too many people in our modern busy world who live their lives so fast they end up ultimately late.

little things

Yes, I'm alive and well. And still a free man!

The fact that there was no post from me here yesterday caused some, at least, anxiety. It's comforting to know there are those who both notice and care!

I was busy. That was all. No late night interviews with local police. No grillings at the hands of MI5. No undercover filming at the dead of night.

Nothing like that at all, I'm afraid. Just kept on the go all the time.

The school and the children and all of the preparation that there is for all the different services coming up. And a meeting at night at Kirkliston again to jump through the necessary hoops that there are in order that things can progress.

(And transferring my 'industrial espionage' from the camera to the programme that I use to make a DVD. If you blink for too long at the wrong sort of place then you'll miss it - it really is short!)

Today has been much the same. A multitude of different, 'little' things requiring my attention and thus eating up the time.

'Little things'. Buddy Holly sang the song. But it often is the 'little things' that actually are the building blocks of all our daily lives. The things that make us, each of us, the people that we are. The things that make each day so very different from another.

Things, today, like my getting a 'register' signed.

It's a complicated system in a way, this business of a congregation choosing for themselves a new minister. The people who're entitled to a vote get the chance to use their vote in saying 'yes' or 'no' on a single nominee whom they're presented with.

Not much of a choice you may think. But they do get to choose who comprises the team that will come with the nomination.

And that's the first stage. Choosing the Nominating Committee. So there are rules in place so that everyone knows just who is entitled to serve in this way and who is entitled to vote.

Hence the primary need to get an 'Electoral Register'. Which everyone's had the chance to check. And which then must be signed.

By myself (that's the easier bit) and also by the guy who acts as sort of secretary to the whole big group of churches in the city bounds (that's the marginally harder bit - since it involves a trip up town, where parking can be awkward and the wardens can be vultures).

But it has to be done, since you can't make any progress till the signatures are all down there in place.

I tied that in with a trip through town to a different crematorium on the other side of town. For a service I was leading in thanksgiving for the life of a man who's been out in Kirkliston for years.

It's strange to take a service where, apart from this man's family, I barely really recognised a soul. Having been where I am for these many years, I've got used to there being always folk at these funeral services whom I've seen and have known quite a while.

Today I felt a stranger. And yet, despite that basic feeling, it's important that I somehow can convey to folk that God himself is anything but a stranger when it comes to times like this. He knows us all. In all the smallest details of our lives.

It's that I try to impress upon folk. And I do it, I guess, by painting a picture which is detailed, personal, warm. Not a vague and general sketch-like thing which could apply to anyone at all. But a portrait. Unique and distinctive and .. well, it could only have been that singular individual.

I think that came across OK. Though it's hard to say.

Between the service there, and getting there and back, and then as well preparing for the services tomorrow (there are two involved in this case for the person who has died) - much of the day was spoken for.

Preaching, preparing: presenting Christ. Making this person called Jesus a present and pressing reality for all of the people I meet.

With him as well, it really was the whole conglomeration of the 'little things' he said and did which built up such a picture in the minds of those he met and helped them see that really he is God!

And so it is with us, in all our daily efforts to 'present' him once again. The picture's built up in the little things. Together, they all of them count.

"just pickin' flowers.."?

Johnny Cash used to sing a song called 'Starkville City Jail'.

Neither great lyrics nor a great tune really. But it went down a bomb when he sang it to the prisoners at San Quentin.

And I can see why. Because the song's a complaint about the way he was arrested once himself for .. well, "just pickin' flowers", as he puts it in the song.

A fairly minor, trivial sort of thing that surely wasn't harming really anyone.

Today I understood the feeling all too well.

Not that I got arrested. Not quite.

But it got a bit too close for comfort!

And why? Well, it wasn't 'picking flowers' I was challenged about. It was taking some footage for the DVD I'm making for this 'green' day that we're holding in a week or so.

I hadn't even trespassed onto private ground. I had parked the car at the side of a public road. No harm in that, I thought. And filming a clip of the smoke which was coming from out of a sizeable, well-known industrial plant.

Which anyone passing can see from miles away. And I mean really miles away.

It's hardly exactly a secret or hidden location.

But all of a sudden a guy pitches up. Vulture-like. A security guard sort of thing. Asks me what I'm doing.

Johnny Cash came to mind at the time. This was my "I'm just picking flowers" moment, if ever there was one. I mean, it was fairly obvious what I was doing!

But out of the blue, by one small, fairly common act - taking some film from the side of a public road - I'd become, at least potentially, involved in industrial espionage.

The guy took my details and I explained what it was I was doing. And why. I even let him see the sort of footage that I'd taken. I was tempted as well to suggest that I send him the finished DVD.

But discretion's the better part of valour. And my valour was in its 'better' mode just then.

The end of the story?

Nothing like!

I was out later on in the afternoon, visiting a family I've known over many years, who've recently been bereaved. My mobile phone starts ringing. Persistently. As in again and again and again.

The family say eventually just to answer it. So reluctantly I do.

This is the police. Following through the report they've received. So they take all my details again. Ask all the questions again. What and why and when and where. And anything else you can think of.

And here's me sitting with a family in their grief and I'm thinking Johnny Cash thoughts once again - "I was just pickin' flowers!" Who'd have thought that making a DVD would generate such a fuss?

So the police advise me that the matter having been reported they must follow it all through. So they'll have to pass my name and details on to the Metropolitan Police. Anti-terrorist squad, presumably.

However, I'm really most obliging and I give them all the details that I can. I explain again that all I'm really trying to do is make a DVD about the way we care for the environment. All I really wanted was a visual of some smoke being pumped up by our industry.

And here I am, not quite on their 'Most Wanted' list (I hope), but down on the files at the Met.

Don't start to think the matter ended there, though! Not at all.

I get a further call at nearer 10pm. The police again. They need to see the footage. Smoke coming out of a tower. But they need to see the footage for themselves.

So down they come to the church. And I show them the footage I took.

They want to know just why I have been taking it.

The environment, I say. A film about the environment. For children at the local school. (Maybe that's what they all say, of course!)

But why did I want this footage that I took.

I'm beginning to think this footage is the last thing that I now would want to have taken, the hassle that it's plainly caused!

But I tell him why I wanted it. Explain how it's going to be used. Because he wants to know the detail of it all.

It's a bit about the atmosphere, I say. How much of the script do you want, I'm tempted to say. Because I've got the whole thing here.

But it's the atmosphere, this bit. The thin, protective layer around this planet earth. Just like our skin. And the need we have to take good care of this most fragile atmosphere.

I begin to think I'm starting to preach, presenting the case the DVD is basically trying to make.

I think he's starting to think the same. Since he pretty soon stops me and tells me, Yes, OK, that's enough. I take the hint.

It doesn't feel too comfortable to somehow feel a 'baddie' in this way. Suspected of industrial espionage. When all I was trying to do was to make a simple DVD.

'Picking flowers' can be a perilous enterprise, I realise.

A case of mistaken identity. Actions being misconstrued. Folk reading into the things that we say and we do what simply was not ever there.

I wonder if that's why there is such trouble in our world today. Complete misunderstanding. Viewing folk potentially as enemies when maybe they were actually just friends, whose actions have been misconstrued and quickly then interpreted in just the very worst of possible lights.

Maybe it's fear that does this to folk. Twenty years ago, there wouldn't have been such a fuss.

But there is today. Because today we're afraid.

Fear is a giant predator which stalks the world today. No wonder there are problems right across the globe.

The only genuine antidote is love. I think it's probably that we've largely lost.

storms

Mondays see me along at the school for the lunchtime SU group.

I never know quite what to expect. How many there'll be. What mood they'll be in. It's all so unpredictable.

And so are the answers they give.

We were reading the story of Jesus asleep in the boat while a storm had blown up on the sea. His fishermen friends were pretty much scared out their wits, so fierce were the wind and the waves.

They shook him awake. At which he stood up and rebuked both the wind and the waves. And everything quietened down. Amazing.

But why did he do such a thing?

Out came the usual stuff. To show his friends that they could always trust him, no matter what: since he is so much greater than the storms they'd have to face in life. That sort of thing.

And then one of the girls piped up - "I think he was maybe annoyed at being woken from sleep. Like he was saying to the wind and the waves, 'Shut up! I'm trying to sleep'..."

Not exactly what the commentaries teach! But I understand the feeling.

There are times when the wind and the waves of incessant demands prevent any semblance of rest. Times when I want to stand up and effectively say, please give me a break!

Of course, I'd probably end up capsizing the boat of my life if I tried to stand up and do that! But I got what the girl was on about.

It's a bit like that at the moment here. The minister out at Kirkliston's left. And the locum's yet to start. So for this week at least I'm filling in out there. As well as here.

First thing this morning I got a call. An ominous start to the week - the undertaker calling me on my mobile at 9am on a Monday. A man from out at Kirkliston had died. Arrangements required to be made.

So already the end of the week's getting full with funerals Thursday and Friday. And visits, of course, to be made meanwhile. Along with everything else.

There's a lot on this week. A lot to be done with the event that we're holding on Saturday 7th of June getting near. A meeting at night and work to be done through the day in creating a DVD. But bit by bit we're getting there and the whole thing should be fun all right!

I was out at the home in Kirkliston at night as well, once the meeting here was done. Calling by on the lady whose husband had died and spending some time with both her and her son who was also there at the time.

They didn't seem all that fussed that it wasn't the minister who's been there these past twelve years.

They were simply glad, I think, that someone was there who'd bring to them a sense of the presence of Christ at this time of their sorrow and loss.

I always feel the privilege of that.

And it sometimes feels, as well, at times like that, that I'm called by God to stand there like the Lord himself and still the storms of grief which toss the fragile boat of their emotions in these days of grief.

And when their hearts are wonderfully calmed, as once again they were tonight out there, it's humbling to have witnessed yet another little miracle of grace.

But I could still use some sleep!

the winning habit

It's the season of cricket again. Can our team at last succeed?

For the past who knows just how many years a team of us here from the church have played against a team from Bellevue Chapel.

It started as a single game one year. Which they won.

And the next year, too.

The following year we won the game. So the decision was made that really it should be a series. We lost the series that year 2-1.

And pretty much ever since that's been the story of the series every year. With one degree of glory or another we manage to lose.

This year is already beginning to look the same.

We played again tonight. We looked the part. Or some of us did. All dressed in white and kitted out, as cricketers generally do.

But we didn't produce the goods.

Nothing like.

To say we lost is probably clouding the truth of the thing. We were systematically demolished.

Despite our taking a wicket the very first ball of the night. That was the high point of all of the match for our team. It all went down-hill after that.

It can reach the stage when a team begins to think a bit like losers. Most times when we think like that, it's what we end up doing.

Perspective determines performance. At least to some extent.

Which is why so much of the Bible is about getting the right perspective on our lives.

The perspective of serial winners.

It's striking how much of the stuff that's there in the Bible is all about that.

God raising his Son from the dead: and giving us the victory.

Instead of the loser's "I can't", it's all about learning to say "I can.."

I can do all things through him who gives me strength.

That's the perspective on life that we all of us need. And that's what I'm always so eager to try and impart.

The trouble is, when it comes to the games of cricket we play, the other team shares that perspective. And we can't both win.

You see. There I go again. We can't!

Perspective is everything. I must learn to practice what I preach!

by name

The hospitals sometimes make it hard to track a person down.

Not deliberately, of course. I don't think.

It's just that there are times when it seems to take an age to find out where a person is. I had that problem today again.

I was looking for Sheila. Sheila's always been so good to me since ever we were here. And now I'd learned that she'd been taken into hospital a day or so ago. I wanted to see how she was.

The easy way is to telephone the family. Which I did. But they were out. Maybe at the hospital, I thought.

So I simply rang the hospital. The girl who answered the phone, she recognised me at once. She used to work at the local school. So we had a bit of a chat about that, which was really good.

But it didn't help me find where Sheila was.

It was complicated by the fact that her surname is one of those that can be spelled in a whole different number of ways. With or without the 't'. With or without the 'e'. And any combination thereof.

But even when I told her how the surname should be spelled, that didn't help. Giving her address didn't seem to help much more.

Did I have the date of birth? I began to think that maybe new security regulations would require of me the knowledge of some PIN. But, undeterred, I pressed on with what more and more was looking like a vain pursuit.

Yes, I could give her the date of birth.

Another trawl through all their computer records.

When did she come in to the hospital. Yesterday.

Do you know what was wrong with her? I had a vague idea from what I had been told. I wondered if I'd have been best to get a medical degree before I started enquiring.

No, they couldn't find her at all. Which was odd, since I knew she was there.

It was becoming a bit like a game of hide and seek.

And then she suggested another name. Not 'Sheila' at all. Try it, I said.

And sure enough, this different name ticked all the other boxes we'd explored. Street and number, date of birth. Everything.

It felt like I'd reached the top of Everest when finally I found her in a bed in the Admissions Unit.

But I was glad I'd gone in. It was good to have time with her there. I think it brightened her day and eased what fears she may have had. And it was good to pray as well.

She was in a bay of four. I like to try and speak with the others there when I'm visiting someone in hospital like that. So I went and spoke with the other lady there (one of the beds was empty and the other one had visitors). She'd heard me pray and was grateful for that.

It turned out she's a member of Charlotte Chapel, the Baptist Church at whose Ladies' Meeting I was speaking last week. So it was good to be able to speak with her, then pray with her as well.

I prayed for her as 'Barbara'. Because that's what the note above her bed declared.

But I did begin to wonder, when I prayed for her as such, if that was in fact her name.

Or if, like Sheila, her 'hospital' name is not in fact the name she's ever really called by anyone.

She didn't seem to notice if that was the case. She was simply glad of the prayer. And glad that she is known by God by name.

That's why I like to speak with folk like that. Folk I've never met before, but there they are in hospital. I like to let them know that they are noticed by the Lord.

And I like to use their name because his love for us, each one of us, is always just so personal. He knows us all by name. All the smallest details of our hearts and lives are known to him.

Far, far beyond the bits of information I was being asked. He knows it all.

He alone can really, fully know us, each and every one. by name.

variety

No two days are alike, that's for sure!

The Lord's great that way. Each day is a gift. And none of them quite the same.

I don't really bother with breakfast most of the time. Mainly because I'm not that hungry. I tend to eat on a need-to-feed basis rather than a 'this-is-the-time-of-day' sort of basis.

Today I was way up town, though, first of all. Half-past seven, and 'breakfast' with a couple from South Africa. In, I think, a Swedish cafe. "Peter's Yard".

I hadn't met them before, but he's across on a lecture tour about the Zulu Wars. Rob and Karen Caskie work at Fugitives' Drift Lodge and this was a chance to meet them both. Briefly over a coffee. A very pleasant way to start the day. And a lovely couple.

From there it was off to the school. It's a Wednesday after all.

Never mind the fact they hadn't told me there were photos being taken in the hall today! Even Wednesdays at the school can sometimes vary!

After that it was off to the garage to get some fuel. Not for the car, but for the mower that the 'beadle' uses here.

He used to go on his cycle to collect the fuel. Or 'gas' as he chooses to call it (since he's American): which confused me at first.

But now in the light of terrorist acts he's not allowed, by law, to take it on his bicycle. In a car's OK. But not on your bicycle, pal. Glasgow Airport take note...

Back here at the halls the water was off. In fact, the water had been off for quite some while. Yesterday afternoon, I think. The builders next door had drilled through a pipe. Or something like that.

How much we depend on water for all of our lives! We had to close the place to the public here today, as a result.

And in between all that I was nipping off back home to see a plumber there. A couple of dripping taps.

Water when it's not wanted. And no water when we needed it. Too much in the one place. Not enough in the other.

A picture of the world in which we live. Too much and too little. It doesn't seem fair.

Which was the theme of the lunchtime service I was leading today. Psalm 73. A psalm that's always pretty relevant. I think folk found it so today.

There were a couple of people I needed to see in the afternoon.

And then some final preparation for the meeting I was chairing out of town. Kirkliston. The first chance I'd had to meet all the leaders there. Now that their minister's gone.

It was great to meet with them all. Get a feel for the people and place again. And I think they felt themselves the time went well.

But another very different context from the one that I'm accustomed to. Variety again.

New responsibilities. New challenges. New people. New friends.

God's new thing in a rather different place.

God with us

What happens when troubles come?

Where do we turn? How do we cope? And who will be there to support us in times of trial?

Sometimes the question is mainly theoretical. When things are going well and troubles are far away then the issue's academic.

But most of us find it doesn't ever stay that academic all that long.

I was with someone last night who was talking in just these terms. She's not had her troubles to seek and we ended up chatting a bit about this.

How she's helped and supported through trials and pressures and pain. How important it is that there's someone she knows will be there. Whenever the need should arise.

We're trying to ensure that that is the case for everyone here. A reminder, in tangible, physical form - a reminder that God's always there. It's something we're really working at these days.

And, of course, I'm not exempt myself from all of this!

There's a 'chaplain' appointed to be there for me. Periodically the chaplain will call. And today was the day.

It's a new 'chaplain'. A lady called Myra. It was good to meet her and see her and good to be able to talk.

She wondered if I valued my having a chaplain. My reply was 'yes' and 'no'. On a scale of 0-10 I'd have given an answer of 5.

'No', because I find myself supported and encouraged by a range of people here. My 'pastors' in their varying ways. I value their care and the ministry all of them bring in their watch over me.

But 'yes', because it's good to know there is, indeed, someone 'out there', a kind of safety net, should all else fail.

'You, O Lord, are with me'.

That's a pretty standard line the writer of the Scripture songs adopts. That's our fall-back position.

The 'bottom-line', a rock-bottom truth when you hit the wall and reach rock-bottom in the face of life's adversities. It's then, above all else, we need to know, there's someone there. The Lord.

'You, O Lord, are with me'.

It's that great truth we want to ensure that people can experience. And most times that means someone physically there. A person who, in this respect at least, embodies God himself.

That's why I try to take the time to call on folk. A tangible reminder of the presence and compassion of the Lord.

I was doing that again today. Calling by on different folk, mostly in the aftermath of sorrow and the anguish of bereavement that they've known in recent weeks.

I hope they got the message. There's a God who cares.

A God who's always with us in the darkest times, as well as when life's good.

face-to-face relationship

From time to time our premises here get used by outside 'bodies' for a 'day away'.

Today was a case in point. A group of staff from one of the local schools had time off-site for an in-servicec day.

They sometimes come here. In fact, if they got the chance, I'd think they'd be here really rather often as they find it so refreshing and enjoy the place so much.

We have great premises and a lovely spread of open ground with gardens, grass and trees. All sorts of folk are glad to come and have a seat and get a bit of peace.

These folk from the school are pretty hard pressed. They need that sort of peace. They need this sort of setting where they can, together, just relax. We're glad to afford them the chance. They do a great job. And we love having them around.

It means a bit of catering, though, of course. Bacon rolls and coffee when they start the day. Mid-morning coffee. And then their lunch.

I was helping out with all of that. A bit of preparation and a bit of being around. Acting the part of the waiter. Serving their needs.

It's all good fun. And we have a laugh. And often, I think, a lot of good work gets done in the informal ethos and very relaxed sort of state that just sitting around and having a meal can create.

I think I'm sort of unofficial 'chaplain' to this group of staff as well.

In the midst of it all I managed some time with a guy whom I've known from ages back. He used to be in Edinburgh, and although he's now been way down south in Hull for many years, he still has a burden for all that might yet be done in Edinburgh.

It's always great to see him. He's one of life's enthusiasts. Warm and full of encouragement. Wise without a hint of it ever being 'worldly'.

A few years back he started a thing called '40 Days of Prayer'. We used it here through Lent, the forty days of fasting in the run-up to our Easter celebrations. Two years in a row we used the thing. And I think folk found it helpful.

He's come up with a different thing. 'Try Praying'. A little, easy-to-read booklet, a page a day for a week. Designed to help people pray. To give prayer a try.

It's a really useful thing. A resource that all sorts can use.

He was wanting to know what I thought about how it might better be used. How it might be widely used. In a city-wide sort of way.

I'm never that sure how good this city is when it comes to 'city-wide' things. I'm not even sure it's a 'city' as such: more a massive combination of a series of village communities.

I said I thought that that was maybe how this booklet might be profitably used. Within these much more local communities. Which he agreed. But he added that if all of the local communities all did the same thing at once ... then it would be 'city-wide'!

He was talking about a sequel to 'Try Praying' which they're thinking of in Hull. 'Try Church'. Which they'll maybe push in the autumn. With another, similar sequel, more at Christmas time, called 'Try Jesus'.

I said I thought that would be better maybe at Easter. Since that's what they actually did. Try Jesus!

It was good to see the guy. It always is. And good to plan ahead and see just where God's future maybe lies.

Time with him is always like a 'day-away'. He brings by his very presence a certain 'space', a sort of spacious garden ethos in the place of all the pressure-laden city life we most times live.

There were visits as well to be made today. And though I might have followed through on some of the issues there were by e-mail or by telephone, there really is no substitute for face to face engagement in a home.

We were made for such immediate, face-to-face relationships.

That's what the group of staff from the school were finding again today. The space and the context where face-to-face relationships could blossom and thrive once again.

That is what was happening when this guy from the south looked in. That's what life is meant to be about. Try praying. Face-to-face relationship with God.

And that's what being in people's homes affords, like nothing else.

time

A Friday is often a day for a bit of catching up.

Sunday comes closer and all of a sudden another week's gone. Or going.

Today I've tried to make the time, prolonged and concentrated time - simply to be with the Lord: to 'hear' his word and get it clear and figure out just how it all applies to us today.

It's exciting. And surprising.

And it needs to be done. There aren't really any short-cuts when it comes to this. God doesn't deal in junk food which can quickly be prepared.

He feeds his people well. And they come to expect no less. Rightly so.

So a day like today is a 'kitchen' sort of day. Preparing the food for the faithful.

And for the not-so-full-of-faith as well. They're maybe even hungrier still.

That was the bulk of my day. Though quite some time was also spent on various different matters iof a more administrative sort.

Some to do with what we're doing here. Some to do with what's going on away out at Kirkliston.

And some to do with the flat across the road where my mother stayed. Insurance things. Phone calls here and there as one call points me to another. A sort of telephone pass-the-parcel, in which I and my needs are the parcel they're passing around.

It all takes time. And I was thinking again how really very priceless is the time we daily have.

Not to be wasted at all. Not to be frittered away in idle pursuits.

How would I live if I knew I only had days left here on earth? What would I do? Where would my priorities be found?

It's a good old-fashioned principle to live as if each day we have is actually our last.

Mind you, I hope this isn't my last!

But if it is, then it's certainly been good.

I've got things done. I've heard God's word. I've managed some creative stuff as well. I've shared with the Creator in his work.

old and young

Charlotte Chapel is a well-known church up town.

They have a Ladies' meeting every Thursday morning. And from time to time I get invited there to speak.

It's a whole morning thing effectively. What with getting up there, first of all, in time for the coffee at 10. Then the meeting itself 'til half past eleven. And finally getting back.

But it's a good morning and they're a great group of ladies and I always enjoy my time there.

There are maybe as much as a hundred folk. Mainly getting on in years. So the whole hour-long occasion has a sort of old-time, mission-hall flavour to it all. Good and long-loved hymns being sung. Readings from the Bible. A soloist with a song or two. Sometimes a bit of 'testimony' too.

And then the speaker for the day.

Which was me today.

As I say, they're a great group of women and always so very appreciative. They help 'draw out' God's word. Preaching's a pleasure.

I preached on Psalm 16 and loved it. It's a great psalm. And I think they thought so too by the end of it! Well, most of the ladies there, of course, they'd have thought it was great before I even began, I suppose!

So that was the morning gone, at least by the time I got back.

A little bit of an outing for myself. A sort of 'day away'. Or a half day, anyway. Sometimes that's really good. To be taken away from the normal, routine run of things in my own familiar environment. 'A change is as good as a holiday'. That sort of thing.

Except it's hardly much of a holiday! With all that extra input, there's not been that much preparation time thus far this week. And time is marching on.

I tried to get some done this afternoon. But I'd promised to call on a family here in the later afternoon, so I didn't have all that long at my desk.

The family that I went to see had agreed to help with the latest DVD that we're producing here. For the 'green' event we're hosting here at the start of June.

It's been good to get them involved in that. The children, with their speaking parts. I think they really like that sort of thing.

And by taking the time to be in their home and working with them through the script that I'd prepared - it's another form of teaching, I suppose. To a younger generation.

The contrast's been quite striking.

An older generation in the morning. Lovely folk. And a straight, old-fashioned Bible exposition is the form they like their teaching to be packaged in.

And a younger generation later on. Very, very different.

Relational. Sitting down at the table with them. Laughing and chatting and talking things through.

Visual. A DVD. Presenting God's truth in picture form.

And participatory, too. Getting them involved. Doing the thing themselves.

Holding these two in balance is, I think, the biggest single challenge that I face. Bringing God's word to two entirely different 'cultures'. And learning, somehow, to tailor my 'teaching' aright.

at home

The value for the month at the school through May is 'co-operation'.

It's a helpful reminder for all of the children there, of course. And the way that the Head worked through the thing today was really good. Illustrating just what it means in the life of a school like this.

Explaining just what the cooks in the kitchen do each day, and how they go about it (I didn't know, for instance, that they also cook the lunches there for Cramond Primary School - and the lunches then get taken down by truck!).

Explaining how all of the school could help in funding one of the pupils as he goes across to Turkey to represent Scotland in some 'MindLab' competition there.

And a whole host of other pertinent illustrations too. It was good.

I'm glad he sees myself being there as part of a large co-operative sort of venture in the whole of the wider community. We have to work together. And sometimes the lines are not that neatly drawn.

Co-operation is the essence of my life, I guess. I'm working together with God. Same as really every single follower of Christ.

We're figuring out what he is working at: and getting involved with that ourselves. It makes life pretty interesting, that's for sure.

The midweek lunchtime service is a case in point. None of us really thought this up. It just sort of 'happened'. Something the Lord was doing. So we played along with him.

And week by week I'm really very humbled at just what it is he's doing there and how he lets us be involved in all of that.

Same again today. I was leading the service on Psalm 62. And looking out across the sea of faces I ws struck by just how many folk are there. Folk I thought were really not that bothered about our worship here since for long enough I rarely ever saw them on a Sunday.

And here they are, each week! It's wonderful. And it's good for them to have the chance for eating with each other afterwards.

Which involves a huge amount of work, of course. Preparing food and serving food. That sort of thing. But again it all comes back to this one crucial value that the Head is always on about - co-operation.

Because there are folk involved in the serving of the food who haven't been with us at worship yet. At least, not in the formal 'Sunday' sense of worship. But they love it here on a Wednesday and enjoy being involved in this 'service' of hospitality.

For them, I suspect, it's a helpful sort of staging-post in their ongoing journey of faith. A means by which the Lord just draws them closer to himself.

There are folk who come to lunch here who are just like that as well. Week by week we see them here, popping in for their lunch.

And again, at a level they're happy with, they're exposing themselves to the Lord. Most of the time without every having the faintest clue that that's what's going on!

One of the Mums who comes has a little girl. Three years old or so. A lovely wee girl, who's really into ballet and who loves to help us out. Clearing the tables and taking the stuff to the kitchen. That sort of thing.

She had me out in the gardens here, to show me her blowing bubbles.

Strange how the smallest breath of wind on that little watery mess can create such beautiful bubbles and see them floating away.

A picture of the strange unseen activity of the powerful Spirit of God.

A picture impressed on a young girl's mind at an early age. A thing of fun and beauty. A lesson that the Lord is maybe storing up for her to learn in later years.

I was back in my office after lunch when Alastair came along. I was due to meet with him, so that was no surprise. But at the door he announced that there was someone there looking for 'the prime minister'.

This wee girl again. So in she comes, quite the thing, and sees the fish and wants to feed them food, and .. well, just makes herself at home. Which is great.

I'm going to be talking with this man here, I say. Good, she replies. The hint not taken at all.

Do you want to go back to your Mum, now?

No.

Maybe your Mum is looking for you?

No.

Maybe your Mum is missing you?

No. What's this? she asks.

I explain. It's a little plastic 'troll', with a shock of gaudy blue hair, and a little sign which says on it 'I love my Dad'.

It looks like you, she says.

(Thanks a bunch, I'm thinking to myself. I prefer the prime ministerial comparison)

Let's see what your Mum has to say, I suggest. Getting back to the point.

No.

Come on, I say, I'll take you to your Mum! Let's play a game and go and see if we can find your Mum!

A move to which she finally concedes.

Here's a little girl who feels at home.

I think that's what we're really trying to do. Help people, old and young alike, just feel at home. Give them a sense of coming home.

Which is what we're all of us seeking. And what the message proclaims. Relationship with God is really much like coming home.

But the journey can be a long one. Ask the 'prodigal son'.

And there are loads of stops on the way.

A little girl like this, she maybe needs to feel it first, before the thing is ever put in words.

And I guess it's not just little girls for whom that's true.

the future's off-road

This picture made me laugh. A little car with its massive wheels.

A car that was made for the city, adapting to go off-road.

I think that's a bit like us these days! In terms of our basic story - structured for a 'tame' and ordered life as the people of God, but intent on discovering the wilds again, the wilds where our life's meant to be.

* * *

There have been a couple of meetings today. In amongst everything else.

There's a lot going on, and in many ways there's a feel for it being a time for getting ready. A new stage about to emerge. And we need to be ready.

Much of the morning was spent in preparation. Of one sort or another.

Figuring out what the Lord is seeking to say to us as I ponder the Bible text. And how best to get that across.

E-mailing left, right and centre in the ongoing work of admin.

Preparing some more for Saturday 7th of June when we're hosting an 'eco' event. I've a lot to do to get things ready for that. And the day's approaching fast.

And giving some thought to the meeting tonight. Preparing some papers for that.

So the morning soon went! Another half day of my life has suddenly disappeared! Scary.

Douglas was in for his lunch again. He, too, is readying himself for a further little milestone in his life.

(Apart from the fact he'll be sixty five in a few months' time!)

He's due to receive his doctorate in just a matter of weeks. A notable bit of work he's done, a thesis of massive size. I'll have to call him the Doctor soon!

We were joined at lunch by Alastair. The guy who's been helping us build a whole new database. He was in with his latest version of the thing to test it and see if it does what we want it to do.

He's a big James Taylor fan. He came in for his lunch with a T-shirt parading the name of his hero right across the front.

It made me wonder if we share (and wear) the same excitement when it comes to this guy Jesus. And just how far we'd go for him.

Alastair had taken his wife and son as far away as Glasgow to hear the man in concert. James Taylor, that is. And probably payed through the nose for their tickets as well, for all I know.

If Jesus came to Glasgow would I drop what I was doing and make sure that I was there? No matter what it cost?

Like I say, it made me think.

Getting the database up and running again is part of the way ahead. I think that Alastair's glad to be helping us out. He sees were trying to do things differently. And so what he's doing is slightly off the beaten track so far as he's concerned.

I think that's where God's taking us. Off-road a bit. Out into open country. Back to the wilds, the place we're meant to be.

I was meeting at night with some of the leaders here again. The whole congregation has to vote in a few weeks' time on changing the way we work. We had to prepare for that a bit.

In some ways it isn't really all that big a step we're hoping thus to take. In other ways it is. So it's important to try and get it right.

And think through implications. Which we were trying to do as well.

It's good, compelling stuff. It forces us back to the good old book and makes us think things through together in a way that's fresh and new.

And sometimes pretty challenging as well.

But 'off-road' living generally is. I hope we'll show we're up for it.