long walk to freedom

There was a meeting this evening out at Kirkliston.

I walked. It's only a distance of 7 or 8 miles and I figured the walk would do me good.

A bit of exercise, and a chance to think.

In between jumping off the road as cars came whizzing by. It's a country road with nothing by way of pavements. And the darkness didn't help.

Of course, it meant a long walk back as well, but the night was dry and the wind was behind my back going back.

In days gone by those were the sort of distances people walked to share in worship week by week. It crossed my mind that there wouldn't be many today who'd think of doing that.

Something's been lost. And whether it's commitment, stamina, or simply a whole perspective, I really don't know. But something's been lost for sure.

The walk back from Kirkliston was a picture of the journey that I'm on. Or so it seemed.

Because much of my time through today has been spent on addressing the challenges change always brings. The journey that we're on.

Kirkliston represents in many ways an older way of life. The pace of life is slower, the bonds between the people often stretching back who knows how many years.

It's more rural than urban. And the values that they have are firmly held.

The people there are looking for fresh leadership. A pastor who will hold them all together and yet will take them on to learn what being church will have to be in decades still to come.

And the walk back from the country to the city was a picture, as I say, of what that journey will be like. For them, as for ourselves.

It's a long walk, fraught with many a danger. Most of the time I'm walking in the dark. And it's a long, long slog. But there's no turning back.

We're somewhere down that road ourselves these days.

Walking back home, effectively - because much of the challenge we have today involves returning to where it all began. The first remarkable followers of Jesus Christ. How they did church.

And walking twards the future, of course, as well. Because that's where the future lies.

Church without buildings.

Church that's no longer defined in terms of buildings (the 'church'), event ('church', as in the service of worship) and day (Sunday, which means for so many ... well, 'church').

Church that's defined in terms of people, relationships, life.

It's a long walk.

Half the time it's totally in the dark. And because there aren't the neat little concrete pavements it's a walk that's full of hazards all the time.

We're constantly having to take avoiding action. Facing new problems whose headlights come round the corner and come bearing down on us at a dreadful speed.

It wasn't long before I was starting to think - 'I should really have taken the bus.'

'Or asked for a lift.'

'Or simply have stayed the night.'

Staying put seems a somewhat easier option. The long walk home is a challenging thing.

But staying put is actually not an option for any genuine follower of Jesus. Not at all.

He said 'Follow me.' Follow. As in up-on-your-feet-and-move sort of thing.

Which is what we're trying to do here. Feeling our way in the dark half the time.

But slowly, I hope, getting there.

There are some small encouragements along the way.

A man came up to me after the lunchtime service to thank me for the message that I'd brought. It had plainly touched his life and spoken to his needs. He wanted me to know.

Another man sent an e-mail in to let me know how problems he'd been facing at his work had been remarkably resolved. In answer to specific prayer.

"My life has just been transformed by the Lord," he wrote.

It was a long and painful process for the man. But it's now been finally resolved.

A picture, too, of just the sort of process we're going through. A long and painful process. But we'll get there.

Our life too is getting transformed by the Lord.