priorities

None of us can do everything. Despite the fact we'd like to.

So there's always the need to prioritise. Because if we don't the urgent tends to stick its head in front of the important.

We have to choose. And what governs the choice is always pretty critical. Whose approval am I looking for? Who am I trying to please?

Silly question. At least when framed like that.

It's the Lord I'm seeking to please. And so I'm always trying to figure out from him just where he means that I should be and what I should be doing day by day.

It's a choice that I make to be at the school so much. A choice informed (I hope) by him. He laid it on my heart and made it very clear a year or so ago, before there were these openings - he made it very clear that that was where he meant me to have time to be far more.

So today, once again, I was along for the next in the sessions with all of the Primary 5 on Christianity. This time on the four key words they have to be familiar with (according to the stuff in their curriculum). Gospel, miracle, parable and sacrament.

Except we only got as far as the first two of these. It was that good fun!

'Gospel' and 'miracle'. Well, I guess by definition they should both be fun. I think the children enjoyed the time: and I think they got the message. They're a great bunch and enter into it all so very fully.

I was barely through the door on my return before a man who was our youth worker a long time back comes through the door. I'd said to come along today and I'd given him my times. And here he was, bang on the button.

Clive's not been well for quite a while. A virus, months back, which seemed to get into his body and attack his systems, putting him out for the count for weeks and weeks on end. It's not been an easy time for him.

But he's thankfully on the mend, picking up strength and able to do a bit more all the time. It was great to see him.

And great to be able to offer him somewhere to come to and do some work. That's one of the problems he's had. Working at home's proved hard. So the very simple discipline of getting on his bike and riding along here is the sort of framework he needs.

We've got the room to house the guy. And it means, as well, that he's around and able to be with people when he wants as well.

So he stayed on for quite a while and joined Douglas and I for lunch as well. I think I could have left him and Douglas chatting all afternoon! But there were things that Douglas needed to run past myself, so eventually he and I had a chance to chat things through and pray aout the issues that he had.

Again, these are choices I make. By seeing them, it means there are others I do not see.

Same with the e-mails. A lot of e-mail correspondence.

I know there's always the 'Junk' I could consign them to. But a lot of them centre round pretty important pastoral matters and often involve considered and lengthy replies.

One was the sequel to last night's visit and the way the Lord's been working in that persoon's life. There were more quite remarkable things going on today in the person's life.

It's humbling and thrilling to see all the Lord is doing in the ordinary lives of people all around!

And then there were visits to make as well. People to call by and see. Some in relation to the lady who'd died, whose funeral service is later this week. Some in relation to people who've been in hospital.

A man in particular, who's rallied quite amazingly these last few days. Noticeably so, when I saw him tonight. It was good to see him and his family, too, and to be able to pray with them.

But my days are like everyone else's days. A limited number of hours. And a limit, as well, to the things I can do and the people I get to see.

There are choices I have to make. And by leaving the choice to the Lord and asking for his direction, it's great to find I'm where he means that I should be.

And some wonderful things result when life gets lived like that!

patience

Patience.

Not the game, but the virtue.

We're not always all that good at it. But the Lord plainly is.

I was stuck in a waiting room this morning. For an hour and sixteen minutes.

Not that I didn't have other things I was able to do. But I still was obliged to wait.

It wasn't a doctor's or dentist's surgery, or anything like that. No. I was effectively queuing for tickets.

My son is away on holiday just at the moment. And tickets for a football match he's wanting to attend went on sale this morning. At 7am.

It's an 'on line' thing. So he'd asked me to get them for him and I was happy to oblige. And although I logged in at 7am on the dot, I still had an hour and a bit to hang around in this (very pleasant) 'virtual' waiting room.

(It struck me that an amazing number of people must be up and about at 7 o'clock on a Monday morning! But that's beside the point.)

It's an odd and interesting experience.

They manage the virtual waiting room quite well. So that when you first 'arrive' there's a 30-second 'countdown' going on at the bottom of the screen. Which made me think in my huge naivety that it wasn't really all that long that I'd have to wait.

Except that once the 30 second countdown was up, it reverted back to another 30 second countdown. And again. And again, and again, and again. Over 150 times in all, I realised in hindsight, by the time I was done.

To start with, it's easy to be patient. I knew there'd be a queue and a wait but I figured being up and about at 7am it wouldn't be all that long. 'The early bird catches the worm.' Some pious principle like that, I assumed, would apply. The Lord honours the virtue of those who rise early.

That was how I was thinking, I guess. But as the time went on, I began to think that maybe I'd got myself stuck out there in cyberspace. Lost without trace, with a stupid ticking 30-second clock my only company.

Forgotten. That's what it felt like. Waiting and waiting. And the longer the time went on the more the confidence drained that the promise would be fulfilled.

(Because the screen was full of promise, of course -

We are currently experiencing very high demand. As a result, you have been placed in our holding area. Please be patient and wait for the timer below. Thank you for your patience.

That sort of thing. And you've had enough bad experience of this sort of thing over the years to make you start to doubt it after a while).

Anyway, an hour and sixteen minutes later on, when I'd long since given up anticipating anything other than this infuriating 30-second timer doing its repetitive jig across the screen, to my total surprise, the promise is fulfilled. And in less than 30 seconds I have bought my son his tickets.

And, boy, did it feel good!

It was, as I say, a 'virtual' waiting room.

Which is what an awful lot of life is like as well. A virtual waiting room. Having to wait for a dreadful long time in the hope of God doing his thing.

And starting to wonder if maybe you've got it all wrong, and starting to think that maybe the whole thing's a farce, that God simply will not deliver.

The longer the time goes on with no sign of God doing his thing, the more the doubts creep in.

There's loads of stuff like that in the Bible, I realise.

People having to wait. And wait.

For lengths of time that make my 76 minute sojourn in Chelsea's virtual waiting room seem really not that hard.

Loads of people like that. Like Abram and Sarah. Not able through all the years to have any children of their own. And promised by God (when way past the age and the stage of life when children could ever be born) - promised by God that he would yet give them a child.

So they wait. And wait. And wait. Years on end. Until they just about give up all hope.

And then, when it all seems too late, the miracle child appears. Amazing.

God is astonishingly patient. Prepared to wait. And he looks to us to learn ourselves to trust him as we wait and know that in the fulness of the time he'll come up trumps and deliver the goods.

I had a lengthy chat yesterday afternoon with someone here about that. Because for this person time is running out and if massive finance isn't found then ... well, I guess, it's 'curtains', in the theatrical sense of the word. The end of the show. The end of the road. The end.

You have been placed in our holding area. Please be patient and wait for the timer below.

(And keep waiting, please!)

And as the timer ticks away, you just begin to wonder. Have we got lost in some sort of spiritual cyberspace?

But no, it's a 'holding' area. God's got a hold of us. And he's got a handle on our situation, too.

I was with a man this afternoon whose wife had died. They've been married for 68 years and the guy must be up and into his 90s now.

They didn't have any children. I knew that from long ago. But it made me think of Abram again. Here were a couple who'd had to wait. A lifetime of waiting for them, I guess.

In the evening I was with someone else. Trying to tease out with the person lots of long-since buried emotional 'stuff' that's been there in the caverns of the heart for ... well, for absolutely years.

Since the person was 9 years old or so, it gradually emerged. And that was hardly yesterday.

But it's maybe only now God deems it safe to draw these hurts and scars up to the surface of the person's heart in order that his healing grace may be at last applied.

It reminded me just a little bit of all the bits of shrapnel that had got themselves deep buried in my father's leg during the war. From time to time for years and years thereafter another little bit would sort of ease its way up to the surface and be finally removed.

There's vast amounts of emotional shrapnel deeply, deeply buried in this person's life. I'd sensed that was the case. Which is why I'd gone round to the house.

And it was like the Lord himself has waited very patiently over ever so many years. Sitting there in a kind of virtual waiting room, not rushing in but waiting, waiting, waiting 'til the time was right.

And here he was, beginning now to tease this shrapnel out and to the surface.

The person didn't know how or what to pray at all. But all that's really needed is that all these bits of shrapnel, all these hurts from years and years ago, are somehow all identified and brought before the Lord.

Just saying to the Lord - Here, way back then, that hurt. And this, as well, that hurt as well. And this. And that.

Naming them all, and thereby, as it were, simply opening the door to the Lord and allowing him access at last with all of his healing grace.

I think it was a guy called Hallesby, in a little book called 'Prayer', who once suggested prayer is really just opening the door to the Lord onto different areas of need. Inviting him in and giving him thus the access that he needs to work his healing grace.

It was that sort of thing tonight. And I think, although, it took a long, long time - I think it helped. And healing was starting to happen.

And I thought at the end of the day how very, very patient is the Lord. I mean, he's waited years. Absolutely years.

And he's never given up hope that the day would come when the healing he longs to impart could at last begin to be given.

Knowing how patient he is makes it slightly less hard to be patient myself in the face of the waiting I often am called on to do.

I'll one day always get those metaphorical 'tickets for the match'.

You have been placed in our holding area. God's got a hold on my life and he's got a handle on my needs. "I'm holding you," he promises.

Please be patient and wait for the timer below. I'll get what's been promised at last.

no ordinary life

The school tends to figure quite largely on a Thursday at present.

There's always at least one assembly, and today there were two.

Except I only managed to one, since after the first I went in to a session with all the P7s. And that took me right on to break, by which time the second assembly was history.

(In point of fact I didn't miss much, since the second assembly with all the P1s through to 3s, was really a repeat of the first).

Today the theme with the P7 pupils was 'saints'. Or maybe 'Saints'. With a capital 's'.

I'm probably the wrong guy to be getting to do these sessions, since, the way I read the Bible all the followers of Jesus are simply 'saints'. I don't see there being an upper and lower class (or an upper and lower case) distinction ever being drawn.

And no sort of fast-track to heaven for the privileged few, which according to some is what the upper-case, upper-class Saints somehow get.

So I tried to explain what the Bible says. And then explained how across the years the upper-case, upper-class Saints sort of slowly crept in. People who lived remarkable lives or did remarkable things.

And note that it's 'people'. The children wanted to know pretty quick if the 'saints' (or the 'Saints') included both genders. Answer - yes, of course!

No glass ceilings, please, in the halls of godly piety!

I wanted to try and get across the fact that all of us really can live remarkable lives and even do some pretty remarkable things. That's why the Bible refers to us all, who are followers of Jesus, as 'saints'.

Francis of Assisi is a fairly good example. So I'd started with him. I'll look at someone else next week.

With this guy Francis it was mainly about lifestyle and outlook. A very simple lifestyle and a hugely cheerful outlook with a passionate care and concern for all of God's creation.

Mainly, I think, the children got the picture.

One of them said she was born on the very day that Mother Theresa died and so her middle name was Theresa.

Which then led on to another one starting to ask about some family friend who was born, he declared, on 06.06.06. I knew what was coming!

The little child's mother is convinced, it appears, that the child's behaviour reflects the fact the child is possessed by the devil. What did I think?

You can see how quickly we manage to get right off the subject!

And yet, I suppose, it's not that far off beam at all. There's a strange, recurring fascination with the whole spiritual dimension (we got onto Merlin as well at one point). And a concern to understand, and make life work in the lives of ordinary people.

Which is pretty much what Francis and his crew were on about. Making life work and addressing the ills people faced.

There's a man in the hospital just down the road who has suffered a stroke. So I was in to see him as well. Talking about addressing the ills people face.

He slept through it all (my visit, that is), but perhaps it's simply the fact of my presence and the offering up of prayer that makes the time worthwhile.

Nothing remarkable happened to him while I was there, certainly. But I'm not sure that's what 'sainthood' is about.

Healings sometimes happen, sure. But most of the time the stuff of 'saints' is simply the life of service. Like Jesus himself. Who came to serve.

That's what we're trying to be about in all that we do each day. And over the piece, across the years, that can start to add up to a quite remarkable life.

protected

We're properly protected now!

At least so I'm assured by the guy who came in today to take a look at the computer which had suffered the painful-sounding 'Blue Screen Death'. In regard to which he seems to have effected something of a clean screen resurrection.

At least, the machine is functioning fine again.

But he also installed some password-protection, without which who knows how many different people could be taking a sort of 'piggy-back' ride on the back of our interent connection out into the wilds of cyberspace.

With which there are two big problems.

Problem one - if someone had accessed the internet in this sort of way and downloaded, say, child pornography; and if the thing had been traced back to us, then we would be guilty of the offence.

Which seems a bit odd to a guy like me brought up on the deep-seated notion in Scots Law of mens rea - ie, you're meant to have some guilty mind or intent.

Problem two - anyone accessing the internet in this sort of way can easily hack into all of our files: and presumably create whatever havoc they want - if they know what they're doing (though non-computer-buffs like ourselves can cause havoc even without knowing what we're doing!).

Anyway, we're protected. No longer exposed and vulnerable.

I guess it's not just in relation to computers that there's the need to be protected in this way.

Relationships work a bit like that as well. In any context where there's some sort of exposure to others in any sort of proximity - like the home, or a community of believers - then it's a bit like our being 'on line'.

We're vulnerable. There's a need to be protected.

We were thinking along those lines at the lunchtime service today. The havoc that's caused when there's not the protection in place.

You see that all worked out in the family life of Joseph. Joseph the son of Jacob. A long time back, for sure. But lessons for today.

Gossip, favouritism and 'bad-mouthing' - all of them rear their ugly heads in the life of this pretty dysfunctional family. And yes, there are good reasons, I guess, why they do.

The basic problem was simply a lack of love.

Love refuses to speak ill about others behind their backs. Love refuses to show partiality and to favour some above others on whatever ground. Love refuses to focus on all that is wrong and chooses to see what is good.

Love is the vital protection that needs to be set in place.

It's good to be reminded of that. And it was, I think, a timely reminder - certainly for some, judging by the comments I received later on.

And, of course, prayer, is part of the the package the Lord provides to give us the protection thaht we need.

I've tried to build that into the pattern of communal life here. I see how important it is.

So a Wednesday evening affords that chance for folk to meet together and to seek the Lord's protective hand upon the different facets of our life.

There must be some spiritual equivalent, I'm sure, of the dreaded 'Blue Screen Death'. But whatever it is, we don't want to know!

We choose to be properly protected instead!

taste of heaven

We've encountered the phenomenon of 'Blue Screen Death'.

It's a computer problem and the name doesn't suggest that it's really all that healthy a thing. Not that I'm an expert on these things at all, but I don't think it is. All that healthy.

It's like the computer has gone on the blink. Except, it's not even blinking. It's just staring out from a blue screen with a whole lot of technical data explaining (if you hadn't already realised) that there is a problem.

We happened to have a computer expert in at the time. The guy who's been working on our database and who's been trying to fix us up in such a way we can 'network' between the offices. And we'll get another guy in tomorrow to take a look at things and see what can and should be done.

Computers are great when they work. And when they don't, well, it's a timely reminder of the need to ensure we can live without all these 'things' which become so much a part of modern life.

I was out at the school, anyway, much of the morning. We'd arrarnged for the database/networking guy to be in while I was out, since we knew my computer would be definitely free at the time.

So I missed a lot of the 'fun'. Instead I had my own fun over at the school.

Primary 5 again. Part 2 of the course on Christianity. This time on 'The Bible'.

Great! They're a super bunch of children, really well-behaved and always full of interest. And they cottoned on quite quickly and got the drift of things. It's a joy being in at the school to teach them there.

Quite a number of the children there were out at night at the Brownies. Well, the girls in the P5 classes.

I happened to pop in to the halls when they were meeting in the evening and stayed a bit. They'd just been learning a song and so they sang the thing to me. They're always so full of fun!

Douglas was in at lunch again - it being Tuesday. And so was my sister, up for the week from Wales. It was lovely to see her again.

She was speaking about the sort of work they're doing down there, building on the contact that they've had with children from the Holiday Club. Going round the homes each week with a children's magazine.

It's a point of contact. And that sustained contact week by week begins to grow relationship. And once there's that relationship, well, anything can happen.

I think that's what Jesus was all about. He just went around, doing good. Contact. Then relationship. Half the time, no doubt, there was nothing all that startling to report.

Except that simply by his being there, the taste of heaven sort of rubbed of on those around. And almost without their knowing it, they started to breathe the pure, fresh air of the kingdom of God and were bit by bit drawn in.

It's lovely to see that happen in the lives of folk today.

That's how we see the simple sort of ministry we exercise here day by day. It's the atmosphere, we pray, that'll bring such real refreshment and renewal to the many different people who come in.

The taste of heaven. A breath of God's fresh air.

And that's how I see so much of what I do as well. In at the school. In at the halls. Small moments of time where contact brings relationship.

And through sustained relationship the Lord himself is more and more made known.

restoring

There's a brilliant verse in the Bible which promises that God "will restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast."

I remember a long time back, when I first dared to use a highlighter on my Bible, that was one of the first verses to be made to stand out.

God will restore you.

What a wonderful thing to be true about someone!

I remember, too, reading another verse and thinking I quite fancied that as the words to go on my tombstone - "you will be called repairer of broken walls, restorer of streets with dwellings."

A restorer.

Today's been a day when it's that that I've been reminded of, time and time again.

I got a surprise visit half way through this morning when Jennie (of wedding-organising/sausages-stress-me fame) popped in.

There were one or two different things she had to collect. And she just wanted to say thank you again. The wedding on Saturday was absolutely terrific. They all loved it. And the small little ways we were able to help were really just a privilege.

She'd dropped in a card to thank us for all our help. And on the card she'd mentioned the comment that one of the guests had made - that we'd restored her faith in humanity.

I think the wedding was that sort of occasion. For all the people there on the day, it did them good. Restored something in them. The spirit of praise at the service they held in the church. The well-kept, spacious grounds. The simple, but super food. The halls decked out so beautifully. The chat. The laughs. Just about everything.

And our willingness to help and make it a day like that was like the icing on the cake for some, I guess. Restoring something in them.

A bit later on, over lunch, I was along at the school. Mainly to meet with Chris, the teacher there with whom I run the Scripture Union group.

We were planning the time and the day - we'll need to change from a Monday to a Thursday this year: and also trying to figure out when we should start, and the material that we'd use. That sort of thing. And a brief time of prayer together before I had to leave.

I'd got delayed, though, on arrival at the school. There's a teacher there who's had bad news, health-wise. By some kind providence of God I met her in the corridor and so I stopped to chat.

She's not that old at all, so the news with which she's had to come to terms has hit her like a bombshell, I'm quite sure.

And it struck me again that for her as well there's a pressing need for God to do his restoring thing. Healing her very body. Restoring her health.

I promised her that we'd pray for her - and pray for that restoring grace of God.

Mid-afternoon I was meeting with someone else. One of the ladies who's running The Guild this year. She was in to chat about the opening night which will be in a couple of weeks.

Their theme this year - He restores my soul.

Same sort of thing again. God and his restoring work. This time on the soul.

Those bits of us that can't be seen and can't be reached by any ordinary medicine. But which are pretty important in terms of making us tick.

God will restore you.

And you will be called repairer of broken walls, restorer of streets with dwellings.

You could do worse for an epitaph!

'sausages'

"It's the sausages that are really giving me the stress!"

So said Jennie, the girl who's doing all the organising of the wedding this coming Saturday. She was here tonight, along with the audio systems guy.

It was good to be able to run through the whole thing with them and put them at their ease. And have some fun as well.

But it was a surprise when she said that it was really just the sausages that were giving her the anxiety. I'd have thought it might have been a hundred and one other things before it came to ensuring the sausages were all cooked.

Often though, it's the little, maybe unexpected, things that catch us off our guard and cause the stress. The big things we're sort of psyched up for. We know what's coming and get ourselves prepared.

And maybe it's more the smaller things which catch us unprepared. The bit of straw on the camel's back. That sort of thing.

The children along at the school today were asking, I guess, a similar sort of thing.

I'd been in, first of all, at the P4-7 assembly, where they had 'speeches' from six of the pupils contending for the post of Head Boy and Head Girl. I think it comes to a vote from the children of Primary 7 - and this was their final pitch.

They were all really good. Excellent in fact.

And after the assembly I was in with the Primary 4s. It was meant to be all on the theme of what I did, but it tended to stray into all sorts of deep, philosophical questions.

I mean, it was meant to be a question and answer session. It was just the questions took more of a license to roam than I'd thought they maybe would.

Sod's Law kicks in, I think. I get a classroom full of 50-60 children and I randomly pick on one for the first question.

And here's my easy starter for 10 - who is God's God?

This is another thing that college doesn't really teach you. How to answer hugely deep philosophical questions like that in a simple and easy way. I did my best.

It wasn't the only question along those lines. But some of them, certainly, had to do with what my work involves.

What's the easiest thing you do?

In some ways, I said, the easiest part of all I do is simply watching God at work. And one of the things I enjoy the most, I added, is coming in to the school.

Which is not an example of me being a sook or anything quite like that. I really do enjoy it, the children are always so eager and keen, and I'm just a child at heart.

But the question got me thinking through the day. What is the easiest thing I do? Is any of it easy? Is any of it all that hard?

What are the 'sausages' in my life that occasion any stress?

I'm not really sure.

I enjoy it all and I'm always so conscious of the Lord being always at work.

Like I was out later on at night to Kirkliston, sometime after 9pm it must have been. To call on the family where the 20 year old son had ttragically died a few weeks back.

They'd mentioned in passing the last time I was out that today was their daughter's birthday (her 18th I figured, from what I'd previously learned). So I thought I'd go out with a small bunch of flowers, as a tangible way of letting her know that the Lord himself knows and understands the turmoil of emotions in her heart on a day like that.

Engaging with a family I've never met before at a time of dreadful tragedy - I was thinking that's not something easy. And even tonight, arriving there, and finding the place packed with all sorts of friends and relatives I've never met before - that's not easy either, I suppose.

But, I mean, the Lord's right there, and it's lovely to see the reaction of folk when they catch just a glimpse of a God who cares, a God who remembers and comes.

I was thinking about some other things the day has brought. Trying to figure out what the 'stress-inducing sausages' really are in my life, day by day.

The school for the first part of the morning. Then straight back here to a couple of further appointments I had with two very different people. Addressing different needs.

I'd said to the children that I'm basically just a sort of teacher. Teaching folk what God says in terms of how to really live.

Which means listening, of course, to him. And being with other folk. And, as often as not, having simply to try and work through with them what the Bible has to say in terms of their own present and personal problems.

Much of my days are spent like that.

Listening out for what the Lord is saying. Which involves taking time apart, and at some length, to get to grips with what it is he says: as well as doing that listening all the time to what he says when I'm immersed in conversation with whoever it may be I'm talking with.

And being with just all sorts of different people at so many different stages in their lives. With so many different problems. So many different shapes and forms of 'sausages' which make them suddenly anxious and concerned.

I think Jennie's fears were allayed tonight. The sausages will be fine!

Sometimes it's just the chance to sit and chat things through that people need. And those small little tokens of God being there and always there in charge.

rules of thumb

Over the years I've developed a series of 'rules of thumbs'.

They have their source more in experience than in any science. I guess their 'genre' is more "old wives' tales" than academic research.

One such 'rule of thumb' is that when I find myself in a 'Catch-22' sort of situation (doesn't matter what you do, you lose), then the Lord simply loves to demonstrate his amazing ability to rescue.

To provide a way out which often we hadn't conceived of before at all.

Another such 'rule of thumb' is to work on the basis that when there's a pattern of things which are happening that seem to be pretty irrational, that usually indicates that somewhere behind the scenes the devil is hard at work.

I've been invoking both 'rules of thumbs' in recent days. There are things going on which it's hard to make sense of and which seem to have no resolution that isn't rather messy. Classic 'Catch-22' sort of stuff.

And all in the context of a work of God going on which the devil seems set on assailing.

A fair amount of time today has been spent with others addressing a problem like that. As in hours and hours.

And in the end of the day it's always a case of resorting to looking to God. He's the only one who can really sort things out. And some of the time we're not left any option but to have recourse to him.

It was great to have the midweek lunchtime service back on stream today!

It must be almost 10 weeks, I suppose (maybe more), since they finished way back in June. And the regular folk have missed it, for sure. Me too.

We've started to look at Joseph's life. The one with the amazing technicolour dreamcoat. That Joseph.

And it was good today to see just what a mess his own domestic background was. Not just his parents' lives, but back to his grandparents too.

A legacy of hurt and a history of sin. Relationships really screwed up. And yet, these were believing folk. Devout and godly people, who were nonetheless not yet the finished article. Not by a long shot.

But God still worked within and through their lives. And that's the hope we have. Always.

However mixed-up, messed-up, screwed-up and dysfunctional our 'family' life may be, it doesn't stop the Lord from being at work.

Which is just as well, since otherwise we'd all be well and truly down the tubes.

So it was good to be able to finish the day with the customary time of prayer. Not many out, but that's not the point. We were able to join with each other and cry out to God for his help.

Things happen when we look to the Lord! That's for sure.

you make me laugh

Something someone said to me today really struck a chord.

The person said, very simply - "You make me laugh!"

Well, it wasn't said, as in 'spoken'. It was more said as in 'written'. In an e-mail.

And I've never actually met the person before, nor myself been in touch before.

It's all to do with a wedding that's taking place here this coming Saturday. Not one that I'm conducting, attending or involved in at all in any way. Except that the couple being married are using our buildings for the service and the reception.

They belong to another fellowship not really that far away. Who don't have their own set of buildings and normally meet in a school. Which is fine, most of the time. But not so great when it comes to weddings.

And Saturday's now the big day. Not long to go. And the last week sees all the little details getting finally tied up.

The person I've been in touch with - again and again throughout the day - is the so-called 'Wedding Organiser' (or 'Manager' - I forget the exact title).

I wouldn't fancy being in her shoes at all! It must be quite an undertaking.

She's had all sorts of questions. I can understand that. She needs to be sure that everything's fine and all right. You only get your wedding once after all.

So I like to ensure that the hassle is somewhat removed by the use of a little humour. And I think it maybe worked.

"You make me laugh!"

I think that's what the Lord does. He makes us laugh again. In the face of all life's hassles and hurdles, he makes us laugh. Turns our sorrows into joy, our darkness into light.

'The oil of gladness instead of mourning,' as he once puts it.

Anyway, it's a wedding week. And what she said made me think of how the way that Jesus lived did exactly that in the lives of people.

He puts a smile on the face of the world again. He makes us laugh.

'A crown of beauty instead of ashes ... the oil of gladness instead of mourning ... a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.'

I spent a bit of time this morning with the bride, some bridesmaids and her pastor, showing them round the church. Letting them get the feel of things and see how they wanted it all.

Trying to put them at their ease a bit.

Which I normally do with a couple and the bridal group at a pre-arranged rehearsal.

This couple, though were dispensing with that. Their pastor's view was the rehearsals are a really stressful thing. And one you're best to do without.

Which is strange. I take the entirely converse view. The rehearsal for me is a brilliant way of removing the stress and putting them all at their ease.

I make them laugh. I think it's as simple as that.

It's maybe dressed up as a rehearsal, but it's really designed to put them all at their ease. Remove the stress. Enable them all to enjoy the whole thing.

The 'oil of gladness' sort of thing.

"You make me laugh!"

I think that's a pretty good way of describing what Jesus did. And does.

Not that he's a stand-up comic sort of thing. Or looks to us to copy Peter Kay.

Except in effect. In the way he makes people laugh. Puts a smile on their faces. Helps them feel good again and able to cope with all of the hassles of life.

I guess that's why people pay good money to go and hear these stand-up comics like they do. At the Apollo Theatre or wherever.

"You make me laugh!"

Jesus seemed to give folk in the clutter and the darkness of their lives a whole new bright perspective on it all. The sense that, yes, with the help of God, they'd now be able to cope.

Life could be different. Fun again. Something to be enjoyed.

It was that sort of thing at night again as well. I was out to see the lady whose husband of 60 plus years had died a week or two ago.

The funeral service had been last week, so I thought I'd call on in and see her once again. Her son was there as well, which was great. The one who came to be a follower of Jesus from a pretty shady, dark and desperate sort of lifestyle he'd once had.

This is 'oil of gladness instead of mourning' ministry again. 'A garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair'.

I don't mean a superficial comic turn. Telling a series of jokes. That would be so utterly insensitive. It wouldn't be a help at all. It wouldn't be remotely how the Lord himself would be.

That's not what I mean when I say that he makes us laugh.

I mean that he gives us the laughter of hope, the laughter of praise and of trust, the laughter of knowing that somewhere out there there's a God who is wonderfully good.

I mean he simply raises us up, as it were, to live again, or as the West Life song puts it, to be far more than we could ever be. And ourselves to make other people laugh again as well.

not taught at college

Things they didn't teach you in college.

Yes, well, there are a lot of them! Which, I guess, is pretty much true for any line of work.

Anyway, I had another one of those moments today where I thought to myself I haven't a clue exactly what to do.

There's a couple who live in the village here and I've known them just about all the time I've been here. Twenty years and more.

They're an older couple, getting on up into their eighties now. He's going blind and she's had her scares with her health as well.

She's as Irish as they come and he's from Wiltshire sort of way - and speaks like he walked straight out of 'The Archers' set.

They're a lovely couple. Devout, believing folk, who are always glad to welcome me into their home.

We have a load of fun, a lot of laughs. But prayer as well. And I knew today she wanted prayer with some surgery coming up at the end of the week.

So round I'd gone and she was just getting back from wherever she'd been as well. The timing worked out well. We chatted for quite a while - well, she did the chatting, pretty much non-stop, with a whole load of things she wanted to say, having been back in Ireland herself just last week.

And then, at the end, I prayed. It wasn't hugely long or anything, but I think it covered all of the bases.

So I wasn't expecting what happened next. After the 'Amen' we all stood up and she came right over and took my two hands and said, "Give me the blessing."

Now, remember, she's from Ireland not Toronto. And she's always been throughout her life immersed in the Roman Catholic Church. Really immersed. I mean, even the Pople himself couldn't do more.

So I knew she was asking not for the sort of blessing which can see a person crumple to the ground a bit like Amir Khan did the other week. I knew she was asking for the sort of blessing the priest presumably gives.

With all the criss-crossing with the fingers that goes on.

Which, of course, is not something they teach you at college how to do. At least, not the sort of college I went to.

I think she simply assumed I'd know what to do. And it never crossed her mind as she stood there with her eyes quite shut, that I hadn't a clue. Not about the correct technique, I mean.

I didn't want to disappoint her, of course. So I took the plunge and went boldly and confidently ahead. I worked on the premise that if I did the thing with conviction, she'd think, whatever I did, that this was truly valid and sort of ticked all the boxes. Even if I didn't actually cross my ts correctly as it were.

Which I think is the way it's meant to be, so far as God's concerned. I don't think he's bothered a toss about technique. One way's as good as another so far as he's concerned.

I blessed her. I played safe. Nothing fancy. Stick with the tried and trusted.

And there's nothing more tried and trusted than the original priestly blessing, first pronounced long millennia back by the first of Israel's priests, a man by the name of Aaron. Which is why it's called the 'Aaronic blessing'.

She seemed content with that. Profuse in her gratitude. Which was really very humbling.

The child-like dependence whereby she cast herself on the words of a man like myself pronouncing the blessing of God Almighty himself.

Even though I haven't ever had a single lesson on the how-to-do-it side of things.

There are loads of situations like that.

When I was in at the school last week, teaching the Primary 7s, I had the same sortof thing arise.

I was in to explain what baptism is. And one of the questions they asked was - "When you make the sign of the cross with water on the forehead of a child, which finger are you meant to use?"

Pass.

Another thing they don't really teach you at college.

And I'm madly trying to think if maybe there's some pious form of 'digitology' which recognises the particular significance of all the different fingers.

But I'm honest enough to let them know I haven't a clue.

And then, warming to the subject, I say I hardly think it matters. I mean, what would happen if the person baptising the child was missing the vital finger? Would you say, sorry, pal, you don't have the finger we need?

I figured not. And I let the children know I didn't think that sort of tiny detail is the sort of thing that matters at all. God doesn't care a toss about technique.

I think he simply says - 'Just do it.'

Baptism, blessing, whatever. Just do it.

Like I say, I don't think he's bothered so much about the how-to-do-it side of things.

I think he's happy that we simply look to him and to his Spirit for the guidance and direction that we need on that account. And just do it.

College can teach you a fair amount, for sure. But the real teaching comes from the Lord.

Which is what Jesus always promised his first followers anyway.

kindness

"Kindness has convicted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or learning. And these three never had much effect on anyone if they did not have kindness as well."

Following on what I was saying in yesterday's post, these words of F W Faber, which I first heard a very long time ago and have remembered ever since, seem very apt.

roof before walls

This afternoon I took the chance to walk all the way to the crematorium.

It takes just under an hour, gives the chance for the heart to do some useful pumping, and provides a space and time for serious thought (without any phones going off).

Plus there wasn't any rain today (for a change!).

After the service of thanksgiving was past, a guy came up and enquired if he might ask me a question.

I'm always immediately wary when that sort of thing occurs. What had I said or done? I feared it might be a rather heavy, theological question, that perhaps would totally throw me.

But, no.

"When you're at college," he asked, "do they teach you how to sing?"

I was still on my guard. I got used to such questions a long time ago as a child. "Can you whistle?" folk would ask: and then they'd follow it up with their ready-made punch-line - "..because you sure can't sing!"

Maybe those moments from long ago have left me slightly scarred.

At any rate, I feared the worst when the question came. I feared he might go on with a comment like - "..because they probably should do!"

However, the guy saw my hesitation (even if he couldn't quite read my mind) and he quickly went on to indicate how much they'd appreciated my singing.

Which took me by surprise. Usually it's what I say that leaves it's mark, not how I sing. At least, I work on that basis. And here it was turned upside down.

For this guy at least, it wasn't my message so much as my music which struck a chord. As it were!

It was, as I say, a little bit unexpected. The wrong way round in my way of thinking. I'd have said the message is more important than the music.

But then, I've been struck how it's often the 'wrong way up' that things are done. Not the way I'd expect.

I mean, I've been puzzled the last couple of days at the way they're building the houses beside the church. They seem to have started with the roof and got that all done before they've built the walls.

Unless it's a house for midgets.

Or they've been building the bulk of it underground - like the Iron Age House which I saw up on Berneray in the summer.

I think they're simply building it a different way from that I had expected. Roof before walls. Because maybe in Scotland not least, these mild but rainy summer days, maybe we need protection from the rain before we need protection from the wind.

Not what I'd expected. Roof before the walls. My music impressing a mourner instead of the message I'd tried to bring (though maybe that did, too, for all I know).

And I think the folk at the funeral found it better than expected. I think they maybe feared the truth being preached, and found themselves being pleasantly surprised to find that grace preceded truth.

That seems to be the order that the Lord follows. Jesus was full of grace and truth. Not the other way around. Roof before walls. The covering of grace before the pillars of truth.

I think I got the message across. The son of the man who'd died, this lovely Christian man who'd once been such a wild and wayward rock-musician in his earlier life, he and his wife came up to me after the service and said, "Well, you pulled no punches there!"

I think they meant I got the message across with no uncertain clarity.

But it was done in love. And I hope with a measure of grace pervading all and making the truth more palatable. The music as well as the message. Grace as well as truth.

I've thought of that a lot since that guy spoke.

Reflecting on the time I had at school today as well, it seemed that maybe that was true there, too. I was teaching the P7 classes about 'Baptism'. I think I got the basic points across.

But I was very aware that there not least, it is music before the message. Grace before truth. The roof before the walls.

In other words, the way I am with folk, the music of my manner and the attitudes I show - they're always as important as the message that I preach.

It occurred to me later on at night that that was exactly the case again in visiting out in Kirkliston in the evening.

I popped in later on to see the couple whose son had tragically died these few weeks back. For them it's getting really hard. Really starting to hurt. And they're struggling to cope. Who wouldn't?

What do they need most of all? Not God's truth, so much as God's grace. Not a message from a preacher's lips, but the music of a pastor's heart.

Not the walls, but a roof.

I hadn't expected a house to be built like that. And when people discover God's grace is extended before his expounding his truth, I think that too comes just as unexpectedly!