clutter

A strange psychology comes into play at the end of the year. At least it does with me.

An irresistable urge to tidy things up, clean things out, and get things back to how they were always meant to be.

Like my desk. My office. What passes for my 'in tray'. My accounts. That sort of thing. A kind of good, old-fashioned, out-of-season 'spring clean'.

[This isn't a photo of my desk, by the way!]

I accumulate through the year an awful lot of 'stuff'.

Things that I think will maybe be important at a later date. Mail that I think I'll maybe respond to at a more convenient time.

But it doesn't turn out that way. And it all piles up.

Neat little piles. All over the place. But the makings of a mess.

Thankfully I didn't come across any unpaid bills, or stuff like that. Things which I should have replied to a few months back. Nor did I find that I was in the red. Not quite.

It was sobering, nonetheless, to see how easy it is for all sorts of 'stuff' to take up a permanent residence and almost begin to monopolise the rather spacious office that I have.

A bit like church, I began to think. With all sorts of 'stuff' (in terms of things we do and what goes on) which once maybe served a purpose (or we thought they might) and we just kind of kept them on.

Until the whole thing's rather cluttered and a million miles from where it started off.

Sometimes there's a need to tidy the whole thing up. Get back to how the thing is meant to be and was at the start. Remove a whole load of 'stuff' which is simply now getting in the way.

I think there's maybe a sort of 'New Year's Eve' mentality in all that's going on within God's church these days. A big and major clear-out. A radical sort of tidy up.

* * *

Not that that was all I've been doing these days! Far from it.

There's been a lot of preparation and a good few folk to be seen.

I was in at the hospital again this afternoon seeing a number of folk. The last of the people I was in to see was in a ward with three other ladies. So I stopped and spoke with them as well.

They didn't guess to start with who I was. I think they thought I was a doctor or something.

But once they discovered I was a minister it turned into a rapid round of 'Any Questions'. What did I think of 'gay marriages'? Were there such things, in any case? What about mixed marriages between Protestants and Catholics? And what about euthanasia while we're at it?

The whole caboodle. Every question you've ever wanted to ask your local minister but haven't had the chance to raise. And all sorts of pains and hurts and sorrows there as well. They all came out.

Daughters who had died from strange diseases while still relatively young. Husbands who were a bit of a pain themselves.

Life's not easy. And it crossed my mind that that was a good deal closer to 'church' for that little group of ladies than the buildings and the services which commonly pass for 'church'.

So the New Year could just see us getting back a bit more to the 'old'.

The simpler, far less cluttered sort of living as the followers of Christ which JEsus himself surely wants.

Christmas

Just when I thought there was maybe a moment of breathing space ... two more of our members breathe their last.

This time of year is often like that. Christmas is always busy. Happily so.

But it's dark and it's cold and the days are all short and the bugs are all having a field day. And people get ill and they tumble and fall and it's hard keeping track of it all.

Christmas itself was great! I love the buzz about the place with all the different services there are. And all the different people who pitch up to share our worship at this time.

Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday - a non-stop round of Jesus-centred celebration. Or so it seems.

And yesterday afternoon there was another act of worship in the Hall as a couple whom I married three years ago joined their family and friends in thanking God for his goodness to them in the gift of their new baby daughter.

The couple live in America now. They belong to a congregation over there where the girl was formally 'dedicated' a while ago. But they were really conscious of how many folk over here have prayed for them and their child.

So they wanted to have a kind of 'second dedication' over here, a chance for all their family and friends to join them in committing litle Chloe to the Lord.

It was a great time again. Kind of like a little gathering of believers in a home. Informal, relaxed and full of praise. It seemed a brilliant way to round off Christmas week.

Except no one had a home that big - so we held it in the Hall down here.

And it left me thinking again what a huge big privilege it is to be called by the Lord to do what I do and to share with such folk in their joy.

Sometimes it's sorrows and griefs that I share with folk, though.

And today's seen me fixing up dates and times for another two funeral services. One died on Christmas Eve, the other on Christmas Day.

Death, it seems, has no respect for dates.

Unlike the crematoria, of course. Which means that both of these funeral services will be taking place next week, not this. Still, there are visits to be made, and folk to be seen. The wait's never easy for anyone.

The days beyond the funeral are often the hardest, of course. That's when the 'void' begins to be felt in a way that's not quite there before the funeral.

Funerals are very final. They kind of draw in permanent ink the line that death itself has merely 'pencilled' in.

Very final. And that's when the 'void' hits home.

I was out tonight to call on folk who've crossed that line in recent weeks. Christmas has served as a sort of 'buffer' a bit, I think - a 'buffer', that is to the impact their loss will have. But I thought I'd call on by nonetheless. Just sort of touching base with these folk in their grief.

Letting them know that I'm there. And that the Lord is there as well. Which is more to the point.

There's nothing to say which is really going to help. Platitudes don't help. A neat and learned discourse on the hope that Christians have - that, too, is hardly a help.

It's not the head that's hurting but the heart. The heart needs bathed by something more than just the solace of a few well chosen words.

It needs the soothing sense of God's own gentle presence and his understanding love.

Immanuel, I suppose.

Christmas in its truest sense.

burning candles

I know it says Wednesday. 24th December. As in Christmas Eve.

Which is worrying. Since I'm still working my Tuesday just now!

It's that sort of time of year.

The nights are on the short side. And the days get rather stretched.

Christmas week is generally short enough at the best of times, depending on the day of the week on which Christmas Day itself happens to fall. You kind of 'lose' a day anyway, what with Christmas Day being taken as a holiday.

And at the very same time as you're 'losing' a day, you're also gaining a good few extra services, all of which clamour for good and thorough preparation. And before you know it, another Sunday is knocking at the door.

And with yesterday also effectively spoken for with all that was involved with Alex's funeral, there's a lot that's needing to be crammed into just a couple of fleeting days.

So today's been a day of hard graft in the main, applying myself to the various tasks there are in leading the people in worship at this really festive time, and in bringing God's word to a whole range of people whose needs and situations are about as diverse as they come.

Not easy. A lot of it has to be visual as well. At least, to my mind it does.

See in yonder manger low... goes the hymn. And that's the sort of emphasis the Scriptures bring as well.

When the shepherds got over their shock and started chatting the angels' visit through with one another, they concluded that they do well to go and 'see thing that has hapened.'

People need to see it for themselves.

There was an older guy as well who comes into the Christmas story, a guy called Simeon. And even he, the older generation, felt a good deal better, more at peace, once he'd actually seen the gift God had given.

And today's generation are even more attuned to that means of knowledge. So I'm prepared to give a good deal of time to working at 'visual impact'. Enabling people to see what the Lord is on about.

'Powerpoint', basically, in the language of today.

Building up the images takes time, as well as creativity. And I'm happy to offer both. It just means that the candles - which are pretty visual images themselves, of course - those candles get burned at both ends!

Christmas dinner

Sometimes a funeral effectively spans a whole day.

Not the service itself, you understand. I don't go on that long! I mean the whole long catalogue of tasks which gather round the 'main event' - the service of thanksgiving.

Today was like that. And not much else gets done.

Most of the morning involved some final preparations for the services there'd be.

A bit like a Christmas dinner, as it were. Though I don't want to get you all anxious by thinking of that! There's a lot of preparation for the meal. Turkeys take time to cook.

And so do funeral services. Hours and hours on end to get the whole thing right.

But all the preparation's always worth it if, for all who gather here to worship, there's a sense of God addressing us in person through his word.

Which I think there was today.

There was a large congregation, since Alex was hugely respected and widely known. And not an old man at all.

Size, of course, is irrelevant. God speaks when there's just a few. And the preparation that there always is is never either more or less dependent on the number of the people who'll be there. Jesus simply doesn't ever operate like that.

But the size of the crowd who were gathered today was as good an indication as you'd get of just how much an impact Alex had on countless different folk.

In a sense it's quite easy to honour the Lord when the man you're remembering so plainly had honoured the Lord himself through all of his days. His life had provided the script. Sort of.

When the person who's died is a Christian, and the people who gather the same, the spirit of worship is palpable, spine-tingling stuff. It makes you glad to be there. And it makes you all the more resolved within your heart to follow Christ that faithfully yourself.

At least, it does that for me!

With the number of folk who were present today, it took quite a time for them all to get out of the church. And then it was on to the cemetery up on the hill for a brief final act of committal.

And a bit like the grand old Duke of York, having marched them all up to the top of the hill, it was all the way back at the end. back to the halls for an afternoon cup of tea. And chat.

The chance for the chat is part of the day, part of what makes the occasion a memorable, heart-warming thing. And folk feel at home so they're happy to linger. Which is how we all like it to be.

But it means that the tidying up doesn't start 'til the day is well nigh done. And some of the ladies who've been working away in the kitchens, I'm sure, are pretty near done as well by then!

They're an amazing group of girls, I have to say. They see it as a ministry. Or a part of that extraordinary ministry of Christ in which we're all, in different ways, involved.

And, yes, it's all of that and maybe something more. Because the whole thing simply wouldn;t be the same without that something special which they bring. It's really just the nearest people sometimes get, I think, to sampling heaven's welcome in advance.

Something astonishing happens through days like this. In the face of death it's life which is always being given. All sorts of different people are touched and moved and maybe even just a bit transformed.

Something often happens in a person's heart and life through days like this.

It makes our days exciting and enthralling as we see the Lord at work.

It leaves us deeply humbled and amazed at what God does.

And, yes, I guess it also leaves us pretty near dead-beat as well!

eyes

Quite often on a Friday night, I do some late night shopping.

Well, not that late night. Sort of through the evening stuff.

It avoids the rush there often is on a Saturday through the day. And I sometimes get to meet some folk as well. Since they, too, are not that rushed.

I was out at the shop tonight. Briefly. Stuff I needed to get in a bit of a hurry. So I popped in for one or two items before heading out for a visit.

There's a lady at the checkout who is often there at night. Enid's her name, I think.

Not because I've asked or anything as forward on my part as that. But that's what her badge declares and I have to assume that it's right.

She knows me to look at now. And I usually take time for a chat.

So she was on again tonight and when it was my turn to have her check my bag of fast-track stuff all through, she turned to me and said - "You've got that mischievous look in your eyes again!"

Which was news to me. I thought my eyes were simply tired. Bloodshot perhaps. And bleary maybe.

But hardly more than that. Or so I thought.

"I can tell," she went on. "I can see it in a person's eyes."

Now, there's a queue that's formed behind, me you'll appreciate. And I'm starting to feel like some fortune-telling freak is just declaring to the world at large the secrets of my heart. I'm wanting to move the thing on.

So I simply smile.

"See," she said. "That's you doing it again."

She has a point, of course. The eyes say it all.

I've always thought that's why the two early followers of Jesus once said to the lame man at the gate of the temple - Look at us.

The eyes. That's what they wanted the guy to see.

And I don't think it's mischief he saw. And I hope it's not mischief that Enid saw either.

It's the life and love of Jesus.

It was that, I think, that loads of different people caught a glimpse of here today.

Jean was only 59 when she died. And she'd battled with cancer for 13 years.

So her life was really quite short. And also far from easy.

Today we shared in a service to celebrate her life.

There was a huge crowd of people present (which will probably get me in trouble, since it took so long to get them all out at the end that the next funeral service was going to be starting quite late).

And the Lord pitched up as well.

Hardly unexpected, since Jean had based her life on following him.

But still, when you're all gathered there and he turns up as well, it's pretty unmistakeable. And it changes the day to a day that you can't but enjoy.

It's like he sort of smiles upon us all. Enid might think it mischievous. But it's really just his love.

Like he wants to make it a special day for those who will miss her most.

And I think he did. Between the service itself and the lunch that we held in the halls back here, the whole thing was simply a treat.

I think when the Lord pitches up like that and you're not really used to his doing that, it takes you quite by surprise.

We're just kind of used to it. His being around like that. With the buzz that there is and the feeling of warmth and the sense of real hope that he brings.

You just want to get to be part of it all. Which is how it affected a load of folk I think.

Maybe that's what Enid, too, was searching for.

Not the mischief. But the 'Chief' himself.

Because he's a load of fun!

bolt from the blue

From time to time there are bolts from the blue.

Metaphorical ones, anyway. Things that happen, entirely unexpectedly, and major in significance.

I've not been struck by lightning, but it's that sort of effect they have. Sudden, swift and massive, with a power behind them which can knock you completely to the ground.

That sort of thing is what happened today.

I learned that last night one of the notable elders here had died. Entirely unexpectedly.

The news cast a shadow right over the day, affecting us all as we feel just a bit of the sorrow his family must now all be knowing.

The news coloured everything, really.

And it somehow seemed apt that at lunchtime there was our customary service of worship. And apt as well that at that service we were taking the bread and the wine and remembering Jesus' death.

Alex was a big man, in really every way. But a genuine Christian gentleman, if ever there was such a man. He was always so much of an encouragement. And always so fervent and earnest in prayer. And a lovely family too.

To say he'll be missed is to understate the case.

And to say we were all quite taken aback by the news of his death is barely to give you a hint of the impact it's had.

There was a time of prayer as usual at night. One of the men said, as he prayed, that it felt like we here were just under attack. I know what he means.

These are not easy days at all.

behind the camouflage

It was in to the school again first thing today. This time the S4 pupils.

I'm glad of the chance to get in to the school. And though the time permitted is really pretty brief, it does let me get across something, I suppose.

The school are good in letting me in, and I won't take advantage of that kind gesture they make. I try and reinforce the sort of values they are keen to see accepted through the school.

So it isn't a bible-thumping, ending-with-an-altar-call type of message that I bring. It's something a lot more low-key.

Picking a part of the Christmas story (I mean, it is Christmas, so I can get away with reference to the basic Christmas narrative) and building on that in a way that's to do with today.

That sort of thing.

There was soup to be made today, of course. But I'd got that done before I went to the school.

A Christmas week special (there aren't any lunches next week) with Festive Leek and Potato and a seasonal rendering of my Tarracarrotomango which only the really adventurous dare to touch!

Not that I was here for my lunch today. I did take a quick half bowl of the soup late morning - just to check it was fine, you understand - when a couple came in for a chat and a bit to eat. It's great when people drop in. We like to make this a place where anyone feels at home.

Which is what Jesus himself was all about.

There was a lunch today along at the City Mission. Well, a branch of the City Mission, a mile or so along the road from here at West Pilton.

One of the ladies here takes a boot-load of food and other stuff along there each week from the folk who worship here. And the good people there are able to use it as part of the powerful ministry they exercise among people with many needs.

So they'd invited myself, along with this lady, to share in their Christmas lunch today. With some of the Mission regulars there as well.

A lovely lunch, which went on for a good deal longer than I'd thought it would. But what is time?!

And one of the other guests there brought a powerful, stirring message.

He's a pastor, too, in a church across the town. But his past was much like many of theirs, I guess. His Dad had been in prison. And he himself had done a stint in jail as well, for stabbing a guy. At least five times.

I think he was telling them that to let them know he understands where they as well are coming from. The cycle of violence, which seems to build a dynasty across the generations of a family's life, can, indeed, be broken.

Today, there's been a fair bit of stuff on the news about the murder of the little boy, Rys Jones. He got caught in the 'cross-fire' between two rival teenage gangs. And ended up dead when a shot was fired from a gun.

The gangs have become endemic, it seems. And the violence which is very much part of it all is a bit like one of those massive forest fires which spreads with appalling speed and devastates enormous swathes of land.

How do you stop it all?

Well, it can be done. The guy who spoke at the lunch today was living proof of that.

I didn't mind being later than I'd planned along at the school! I was glad to have been there and heard the guy and got for myself a flavour again of what the Mission here is doing.

It's run by a guy from Uganda called Tom. He does a great job. The sort of thing that Jesus always did. In among the people.

Which is what I seek to do myself, of course. Except, it's often quite a different sort of person that I'm with. No less, nor more important in the mind and heart of God.

Just different. With often really very different needs. And yet themselves so often, too, caught up in a sort of 'cycle' which is slowly, subtly starving them of life.

I was out at night in the neighbourhood, delivering Christmas cards.

We have a card we deliver to every home in our little 'patch' this time of year. A simple Christmas greeting with a note of when we worship. That sort of thing.

I knock on the doors when delivering the card. Which means I don't get far!

It's great to have the chance like that to be welcomed into people's homes.

And it isn't long once I'm in their homes and listening to their stories before I'm seeing again what needs there are. The nice suburban housing is really just a camouflage which hides a world of need.

It was into that world that Jesus was born. To meet the need.

He got behind the camouflage. And calls us to do the same.

an unpredictable mix

Christmas is a bit of a mix. Highs and lows.

There's a lot of joy. But that simply sharpens up the sense of grief which many know.

I suppose I swing between the two.

This last full week of the term I'm in at the local secondary school each day, first thing.

Different year groups each time. Today it was the 5th and 6th year groups.

It's not always easy to know what to say. Where to pitch it. How far to push it.

They come from all sorts of backgrounds. And for some of them Christmas is nothing beyond a welcome relief from school. Period.

But whether there's even a semblance of Christian conviction or not, the fact of the matter is simply this - that these are the Christmas holidays. So I don't have a problem in touching on aspects of what went on and earthing the challenge of that in modern day life.

That's what I try to do, at any rate.

And I try and keep it festive, too. Since it's that time of year and the end of the term is close.

There was more in the way of festive cheer as well, I suppose, in the meeting I had through the bulk of the morning with the leaders of the Reception Area here.

There are plans to be made and questions we have to address. So we try and get together on a fairly regular basis, to toss these matters around. And to enjoy the break that a coffee away from the place affords.

And a good old laugh as well, of course - they're a wonderful group!

But there's sorrow as well these days.

There's a lady here who's battled with cancer for probably 13 years. She finally passed away on Sunday afternoon. It's a hard and painful time for her family.

The more so because this lady's mother herself had died just a couple of weeks ago. On the birthday of one of her daughters.

So a fair bit of time has been spent today in that connection too. The lady who died was amazing. The way she'd handled her illness and the care that she'd shown for her family. Their pride must have burst their hearts, even if the pain of their grief had not.

I was round to see them, briefly, at night.

Before going on to meet with the others for our regular(-ish) time of getting together to learn from the Bible. We had someone new along tonight which was great.

But we didn't get all that far. In fact, we didn't get any real distance at all in terms of the passage we'd planned to start on. We touched on a host of other bits in the Bible and had a look at some of them.

That's the way these times of study sometimes go. It's more like the way that Jesus taught his disciples, I think. Just gathered around the table and going with the flow of the questions that lay on their hearts.

And there were certainly questions that needed aired tonight!

Like the six of us gathered there tonight, the day's been a bit of a mixture. Which is pretty true to life. The ups and the downs, the joys and the griefs.

An unpredictable mix.

Christmas, I suppose.

stuck

Elvis Presley used to sing about being Caught in a trap.

I know, because a long, long time ago, way before they'd ever even thought of CDs, far less ipods and the like, I went out and bought a bargain basement double album with 50 of the great man's greatest hits.

They called them LPs in those days. 'Long Players'. And I can vouch for the fact that running through Elvis' 50 greatest hits is a long, long play.

One of them was the Caught in a trap one. Which went on to explain the essence of his predicament in terms of the fact that we can't get out.

Which maybe sounds a bit banal, and a bit like stating the obvious, but, believe me, when the great man started doing his thing, nothing sounded banal!

There was a guy called Moses who must have at times felt like that.

Like when he led the people of Israel out of captivity in Egypt. Which was a pretty amazing thing. And the people were understandably and more than just mildly chuffed. At least to start with.

But then they reached a point which was kind of like a dead end. With a massive big sea in front of them. And the army of Pharaoh coming charging along behind.

A very literal dead end.

It's not a nice feeling the Israelites felt right then.

And I had that experience again myself today.

I'd gone up town to collect an item from one of the shops. Their collection point is in a little one way street. Well, more a lane in truth.

I turned down the lane and got so far when I realised in front the traffic had totally stopped. A queue had plainly formed.

And by the time I'd seen the problems that might now arise, it was too late. There was traffic behind me as well.

A sizeable, no-way-past-me Carlsberg truck had parked itself right in the centre of this narrow road (sorry, lane), and gave every indication of being there off-loading its wares for the duration.

Now Carlsberg, I know, is probably the best lager in the world. But at moments like this that particular brand of lager was probably far from being top of the popularity ratings had a quick straw poll been taken of the traffic in the street (sorry, lane).

And unlike the way the problem was resolved for Moses long ago, there was no parting of the (brewery) liquids there in front of me. But then, I suppose, it wasn't quite Pharaoh's army which was charging behind.

It was just, for the moment, a dead end.

A mere 36 minutes later, the big Carlsberg trucker decided to move his truck a bit to the side, to let all the traffic through. Probably not the quickest thinker in the world.

Now most times when I'm stuck like that, I've got stuff with me in the car to do.

But not today. I think it's called Sod's Law.

It gave me time to think. And once I'd got the Elvis Presley ranting off my chest, it struck me that our stepping out in faith is often just like that.

It would have been altogether easier simply not to have set out at all. It often feels like that.

But once we've set out there's no turning back. And sometimes the way ahead seems totally blocked as well.

These truck-that's-got-stuck-in-the-lane moments happen.

There is a way forward and out. Moses discovered that. God opened a way that Moses hadn't figured was there.

And a way opened up for me as well. By the grace of God.

Not a miracle though (mind, the fact that the Carlsberg driver moved at all, albeit over half an hour later, seemed itself, by then, something of a minor miracle): just patience.

Itself a grace from God.

Most times that's the way these caught-in-a-trap situations get resolved. Patience rather than miracle.

But however it happens, the fact of the matter is simply this - it does. There is a way forward and out. The Lord sees to that.

That's what's happening here these days in our life as the people of God.

We set out on a journey. Off to what is our equivalent of Israel's 'promised land'.

A new land, anyway. A new way of being and doing church.

And there are times en route when it feels like we're stuck in a clogged up, narrow lane.

We've burned our bridges behind us, as it were. So there's no way back.

And the way ahead seems hopelessly blocked.

By, who knows, probably the best ecclesiastical 'lagers' in the world.

As in the original sense of the word. Those who pitch their camp and barricade themselves in.

just another day?

The pupils of Primary 7 were all along at the Halls today.

Exploring what Christmas is really all about. It was a great time and I think they enjoyed the whole thing.

We were down at the Halls ourselves from fairly early on, to get things all set up. Some folk from the SU team here in Edinburgh, and then, as well, a number of folk from here. Maybe nine of us in all.

I think they all enjoyed the time as well!

One of the things the children got to do was fill in a 'survey' form. All about Christmas.

What did they think the number one song would be this Christmas time? What did they like best about Christmas? What were they hoping to receive? What might they give? What were their hopes and dreams this Christmas?

That sort of thing.

The answers were really quite striking.

One of the boys I got kneeling beside at one point said his hopes and dreams were to sleep. Because that's all I really do anyway, he said, when I asked him why he'd put that.

He'd filled his sheet fairly quickly. And for what he'd like to receive he'd simply written Nothing. For what he might give, again it was simply Nothing. What did he like best about Christmas? Well, yes, you've guessed - Nothing.

He'd have done well as King Lear, of course! You know that famous line there is (which I think only Shakespeare could have got away with as 'poetry') where he says - Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing.

Well, I chatted a bit with the boy. Trying to figure out if this was the guy being perverse, or if he'd got out of bed the wrong side, or if there was something more to his negative line.

Christmas is just another day, isn't it? was all that he would say.

Which in some ways, of course, is correct.

But it wasn't the line the angels took. Today, they declared, a Saviour has been born for all people.

And the numbers of angels who pitched up to join the choir suggested that so far as they were concerned this day represented a pretty big deal.

God turning up in person to save the world is not really the stuff of a shrug-of-the-shoulders sort of just another day.

The teachers enjoyed the time as well. At least I assume they did. They sat in another part of our halls, where the coffee's on the go, and ... well, I hope they managed to relax just a bit. They deserve it.

In the afternoon the venue was reversed. I was round at the school myself for the final time with the children of Primary 6. This time on the death of Jesus.

That year group are an amazing bunch of children. They sit so well, behave so courteously, listen so intently, contribute so eagerly, and ask questions so astutely. They're fun to be with and a joy to teach.

And at the end today they gave me a gift of a pair of Christmas socks. As a way of saying 'thankyou'.

Because we'd had this thing between us from the first time I'd been there when I'd asked them how observant had they been and had they seen what colour of socks I had on.

It turned out that the socks had writing in German on them. Which I don't understand at all. As you know.

So their task for the next time out was to find out what the German on my socks declared - since some of them were studying German this year.

The next time I'd been there I'd worn the socks again (washed in between, of course). And they'd sussed out what the German meant - something about my walking in the footsteps of Jesus.

The third time I was with them I wore a different pair of socks. I figured they'd be looking out for this, which they were. And I had on a pair of Anakin Skywalker socks which I'd found a few days back.

Today I wore my stripey Old Carthusian socks. And sure enough the first question all of them asked was what sort of socks I was wearing today and what did the colours mean.

As I say, they're fun to be with, and we always have a laugh. But they also listen well and take it all in. And I hope they catch not the truth that I'm telling alone, but the sense of the presence of Jesus himself through it all.

Just another day?

Well, hardly. No two days are the same.

But a day like today it's just like God turns up in person all over again to save the world.

And it's great just to see him at work!

in charge (or not)

One of the reasons this time of the year is always so busy and rushed is the number of things there are going on at the school.

Today (and tomorrow - but I won't manage then) was the Infants' Nativity. A half hour musical, called 'Born in a Barn', attended by parents, grandparents and all sorts of others no doubt as well.

Brilliant! It always is. And 20 years down the line, I still don't know how they do it. I mean these are just the children of Primary 1 and 2. And the way they get them singing, acting, dancing and co-ordinated, too - it beats me.

And, of course, there's always an engaging simplicity about a thing like this. Seeing this major event again through the eyes of a little child.

One of the songs that they sang had the chorus - He's a King we can believe in. And at one point, too, the line was shouted out - "And it's true!"

That's the beauty of it, of course. It is so true.

The King has come. And we can believe in him. We do.

He's in charge. Even when we don't feel too in control of things ourselves.

Which could easily be the way I feel at this time.

There were people to see this morning. And before I knew where the time had all gone, it was after half past twelve. Which is when the lunchtime service starts.

I hadn't managed a lot of detailed preparation in advance. Not what I'd hoped or planned at any rate.

But he's the King. And he's in charge. And it means he takes control.

So the service was fine. What I said made sense - and it was really like I was getting preached to as well. By him!

In fact, I thought it was really good. His doing the preaching, I mean!

It all came together in quite an amazing and powerful way. He's the King we can believe in, and, yes, it's true!

A good job.

There were more folk to see in the afternoon - and I'm thinking by now the week is already half gone!

A bit like being in a river in spate and despite where you'd choose to be going you simply get carried along.

But I guess that's what happens when the Spirit of God gets outpoured. The Spirit outpoured is not just a wee highland burn, but a river in spate.

With a mind of his own. And a power you cannot resist.

Which makes life exciting, at least.

But it does mean I'm not in control. It's he who's in total control. The King.

It was good to be joining with others in prayer at the end of the day. Not twisting God's arm, as it were, but releasing the 'plugs' which otherwise hinder the flow of God's river of grace.

As the chorus of the song requests - 'flow, river, flow'.

It's white river rafting these days. And I'm certainly up for the ride.

a perilous path

Another day of trying somehow to stay ahead of the game.

And it didn't feel as if I was always that successful.

I'd gone along to the school first thing - as I thought had been arranged - to be with the P6s again for the third of their four lengthy sessions on who Jesus is and what his story is.

All after the soups had been made, of course. it's a Tuesday after all.

But I got there to find that the whole Upper School was watching the infants' 'Nativity'. Which I wasn't going to interrupt.

So I scurried back to the halls along here. And on the way I met an older lady who was struggling along on the very icy pavements that there are these days.

I asked if I could help her along, give her an arm, that sort of thing. Without being overly forward or anything.

Was I going to the doctor's, she asked. I know I'm just a wee bit tired, but I didn't really think I looked that bad! So, No, I said. I'm not, but I could if it helped you out.

I thought she was maybe wondering if I'd help her along that far.

If you would do that, she said (as in, go to the doctor), I'd really be most grateful. Here, she said, take this.

And she passed me a bottle of what looked like wine, wrapped up in its Christmas paper. Which I thought was rather generous - for me just going to the doctor on her behalf.

Until I realised, the bottle was not for me, but for them - for the doctors' Christmas party.

So I did my Santa Claus bit and I handed in her gift. And then came out and there was another man, struggling down the icy, slippy pavement. And not enjoying the prospect one small bit.

So I gave him a hand as well and saw him safely into the doctor's surgery. And I thought to myself, I could get a full-time job doing this.

Helping all these many different people as they struggle along these slippery, difficult paths.

But then I figured I've got that job already - in a slightly different way, of course!

It was just as well that I ame back when I did, mind you. The database guy was in again, to sort out some things that we'd raised with him. It was good to be there when he came.

Then my chaplain came.

Yes, I have my own private 'chaplain', who meets me maybe once every six months or so. A delightful lady who's easy to chat with and who always makes a point of praying for me.

Then she was off and Douglas was in for his lunch. The first time in a good few weeks since he's been in America, seeing his latest grandson (and his daughter, too, of course).

It was good to catch up, but it was all too brief since I'd had to re-arrange the session with the P6 pupils for the afternoon and so needed to get along.

It was great with them again. Despite it being siesta time - at least it felt like it should be for me.

But none of them fell asleep and I hope that's because they were actually gripped by the way and the things Jesus taught.

Which was what I was on about today.

And, yes, we had a whole load of fun in the process as well. Because I think Jesus did as well. When he taught.

From there it was off to the other side of town, to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary.

It's a huge long trek, unless you do it at dead of night when the traffic's not so bad. But that's not so good for the patients, of course, so I have to go through the day.

The traffic these days is really bad.

I think the Council must be playing some sort of a game these days. A sort of 'maze' that they make, which changes each day, so that there's only one way you can get to the place that you're going.

And it's not the way you think. And it's not the way you chanced on last time out.

A trial-and-error, guessing sort of game. Which must give someone somewhere loads of fun.

Biut not too many motorists. Judging by the look on their faces most of the time.

I guessed pretty well on the outward leg, so it didn't take dreadfully long. Though it was a rather different story coming back.

The looks on the faces of those I went to see was worth the time and effort. It was good to see them all. To chat and catch up and then to pray - for them and for the others in the hospital, and all who work there, too.

I didn't get back 'til well after six. Which meant a pretty rapid turn-around to get down to the halls again and get things all set up for what would be a lengthy evening meeting.

Good. But certainly lengthy.

Like the man and the woman this morning, and the traffic on the roads this afternoon, we, too, are on a journey which is fraught with many hazards and is often really slow.

We'll get there, though. As they all did today.

Even though it often seems quite slippery and the way is not that clear.

deep breaths

Today was one of those 'drowning-in-advance' sort of days.

They always say that when you're drowning you see your whole life pass before you. Though quite how they actually know that, I'm not entirely sure.

There are days, though, when you wake up and you suddenly see, not the past, but the future and what's to be done, and it all runs through your mind in a sudden flash.

It was that sort of waking I woke to this morning.

I figured I should just take a long, deep breath because the next three weeks look like seeing me up to my eyes and deeper in terms of all that there is to do!

There's a film I watched a long, long time ago, called 'The Poseidon Adventure'.

This was the original version, so I mean it was a very long time ago indeed (and I recall as a young, growing lad having something of a crush on the girl in the film who wore the red shorts. I think the actress was Pamela something or other, but I don't remember what. Maybe someone out there knows who I mean...?)

I just remember the bit in the film where in order to make it out they have to swim underwater for what seems like half a whole eternity to get to another part of the upturned boat and the chance of a route to safety.

It feels a bit like that sort of holding your breath.

Or maybe the sort of deep and careful breathing that a pregnant woman does when labour really starts.

Maybe. Not having been in the position I wouldn't really know.

But something like that. A sense that if I get the breathing right I'll make it through to the other side and something really wonderful awaits me there.

Like being part of an amazing rescue. Or giving birth to something new.

The day was full of a load of preparation. And at night I was out for some Bible study again.

There's a small, but slowly growing group of folk I meet with now to study the Bible together. And to share a bit and pray for one another too.

Well tonight it both was and it wasn't Bible study.

It was, because we were looking at all sorts of bits of the Bible and what it was that Jesus taught and what that meant for us.

And yet it wasn't, because we didn't even touch on the bit of the Bible we'd planned to be looking at!

It was really pretty exciting!

And it ended with us praying for some folk who are having struggles. One, an older man who's had(and has) an awful lot of pain which the doctors simply cannot address at all.

We figured we should pray for him that God would simply do himself what the doctors had been unable to do.

Which is pretty much what Jesus did. Healing people whom the doctors had not been able to help.

We're meant to follow him. Which means thinking like him.

One of the huge big problems that we have is that we've got our whole perspective quite the wrong way round.

We don't expect miracles.

That's our starting point. It's not that we don't believe in miracles. Because at least in theory we do. being good little Christians and all of that.

We just don't expect them.

And because we don;t expect them, we don't ask for them.

And because we don;t ask for them ... well, we don;t see them.

Which simply proves our starting point was right! And we end up expecting them even less.

A rather vicious circle.

When Jesus all along is saying to us to start the other way around. In fact the whole Bible is saying that all the way through. Start from a different perspective.

God is a great big God.

Expect miracles.

Then learn to ask for them.

And when you ask for them you'll start seeing them.

And once you start seeing them you'll expect them more and more.

See what I mean about our being entirely the wrong way round in the way our thinking goes.

Well, we talked about that quite a lot. And about how we might learn to think creatively and let folk see through what we do that Jesus is for real.

By doing the sort of things that he would do.

It was the sort of evening when by its end you kind of felt you might have maybe started to change the whole world!

So who knows what'll have happened by the end of the next three weeks!