crossing lines

People figure largely in my life.

I think that's the way it's meant to be. We're made to live in community. And that means people.

It also means spending time with people. Good time, quality time, sometimes quite a lot of time.

That's been the pattern today again. Time being spent with people.

First, through the morning, and at quite some length, little bit of catch-up time with Diana.

I've known her for years, since long before I ever came to where I am just now. And that's as much as twenty years ago itself.

Diana's back from time she's had out east. She works out there, a university lecturer. She's been out there for years. Decades.

From time to time she's back. And there's always the chance to catch up. And the catching up brings issues to the fore. Challenges we face. She in her situation. I in mine.

In many ways the same sort of challenge. It's just the context that's different. The challenge of commending Christ without the cultural clothing we have wrapped him in.

It's not easy. Neither for her out east, nor us right here. But it's a challenge we have to tackle.

Sooner rather than later.

Lunch brought a pleasant surprise.

Jim and Margaret, the parents of the bride at Friday's wedding through in Glasgow, took the chance of calling in. They'd had to come through to bring something back to a shop in town, and it was great that they stopped for their lunch.

The wedding last Friday was a wonderful day. So full of God's presence, so rich with the pleasures of worship and friendships and partying into the night.

Everything about the day was great. The worship in the Baptist Church. The meal itself, the company. The speeches. And the ceilidh in the evening. The whole thing was great.

And it's lovely when you get the chance to chat it through again. I was pleased for them. There's a lot of hard work and a fair bit of 'angst' for the parents of any bride. But they'd enjoyed the day as well.

And they're lovely folk with a heart for the Lord, and it's great when new friendships are formed.

Today was Deirdre's last day.

Deirdre's the midwife who's been here now for years. She's a total star. The best midwife in the city so far as we're concerned. Everyone thinks the world of her.

She's brilliant at her job, as loads and loads of parents gladly testify. And in her annual holidays she goes off to some far off, way out places (like the Amazon) to use her skills to help with folk less fortunate.

She's amazing. We view her as part of the team. And I think she's glad to be viewed as such and enjoys being around us here as much as we do having her.

But today's been her last day. She's moving on to somewhere else.

So we gave her a bunch of flowers, a little card and a very impromptu speech. And there were hugs and tears and .. well, saying goodbye is always pretty hard.

But again it's been striking to see the way God sort of breaks all barriers down. I don't think she's a follower of Christ herself. But we all believe God's used her here in very special ways.

And then, through the evening, there was Jim again. Another Jim. It wasn't time I spent with Jim. Because he died at the start of the week.

It was time I spent both talking and writing about him. Time spent with his family. And time spent in the office here preparing for the funeral tomorrow. But time when my mind and my heart has been concentrated fully on him.

I don't know where he stood in terms of Christ. He didn't come to worship (though his wife quite often does).

But what he did throughout his life was really most impressive and the massive contribution that he's made within the life of the community we're part of here is humbling for a guy like me. Very humbling.

And it leaves me thinking again - as I've really been thinking all through this week: what does God mean when he calls us to 'be separate' from them? (By 'them' he's meaning 'unbelievers')

My problem - Jesus didn't live like that at all.

He was different, sure. Distinctive. But not separate. He didn't avoid these folk who'd made a mess or viewed things rather differently. He almost sought them out. He actually crossed the lines of separation which religious people drew.

He talked with them, he ate with them, he worked with them. He even had some on board.

So why do we draw all these boxes and lines? And how do we stay both distinctive and also involved?