forget me not

Signs.

The Lord does a good line in signs. Or 'tokens' if you like. Tokens of his love.

Little things you might easily miss if you didn't really know him.

Like that tiny little hint of approval (or disapproval) in a man or a woman's eye which their loved one alone picks up.

They've lived with each other long enough, they love each other deeply enough, to pick up on these little 'signs'.

The Lord, I suspects, prefers these gentle, discreet little tokens of love to any dramatic thunderbolts out of the sky.

Like tonight, when I called on a lady whose husband had died a week or two ago. As I entered the house, I could hear the music of the hymn, 'Abide with me', starting up.

The lady was watching the television. This is Monday, remember, so it wasn't 'Songs of Praise'. I think it was maybe the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, but I couldn't be sure.

No matter. The hymn was 'Abide with me'.

Which was the closing praise she'd chosen for her husband's funeral service. Because he'd been listening to 'Songs of Praise' the day before he died and had remarked when he'd heard this hymn that he liked it.

A 'sign'. A gentle, discreet little token of the Lord's compassionate care. Bringing her back to the service of worship we'd had and giving this quiet assurance he hadn't forgotten.

I'd earlier called someone else to ask the guy if he would lead a time of worship and study.

He remarked when I rang what an interesting call this was. He'd almost spoken to me himself just yesterday and asked if I wanted him to do exactly that. But had decided that if the Lord himself intended this then I would certainly ask.

Which, of course, I did.

The Lord laying it on both his heart and mine. Which is by andlarge what he does and how he works.

Back at the end of the 19th century there was a famous baptist preacher down in London. I think (as an aside) my Gran once heard him preach, but I'm not entirely sure on that (and it's too late to ask her now).

C H Spurgeon. A man once approached him and said that the Lord had told him he was to preach in Spurgeon's pulpit in London.

To which Surgeon quite rightly replied - He hasn't told me.

End of story. The Lord joins the dots. He lays the same concern on the hearts of all concerned.

He doesn't forget.

And these gentle, discreet little tokens we get are quiet and subtle reminders that that is always the case.

He doesn't forget.

truth

Trust.

This month's "value" at the local primary school. The first of the new school year.

This is where it starts.

Yes, I was in at the school again today. The first assembly the P1 children have had.

The Head was speaking about trust. Who you trust and what trust is and involves.

And, of course, truth came into the equation. The school motto is "Honest and True". So that got an airing as well.

Trust and truth. The two have been before me much of today in one way and another.

"Trust in the Lord forever," declares the prophet of old (Isaiah 26.4). And that's the heart of all that we seek to do. Urging the people to do just that and simply trust in the Lord.

But the prophet's exhortation doesn't stand alone.

"Trust in the Lord for ever, for the Lord, the Lord is the Rock eternal."

Trust is rooted in truth. The truth about the Lord. Who he is and what he's like. He is 'the Rock eternal'.

But it doesn't even end there.

"Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord is the Rock eternal. He humbles those who dwell on high, he lays the lofty city low; he levels it to the ground and casts it down to the dust."

Trust, yes. But the trust is rooted in truth, the truth about God. And that truth is then expounded. So that we understand exactly what is meant when it's said that the Lord is the Rock.

I'm newly back from a whole long evening addressing this question of truth with a person here.

Can we ever be all that certain about the truth of God? When you come to that 'truth', the person suggested, is it not all rather subjective?

You come from a certain background, you bring your own perspective, you have your own way of thinking, and you've had your own experience. Surely that colours the way you read the Scriptures? So that your 'take' on the 'truth' is going to be different from mine.

Can we ever be all that certain about the truth of God? That was the line the person was trying to air. And I think it's a question a lot of people have.

And it's very basic stuff. If 'truth' is such an elusive thing, how can we cultivate trust?

Well, yes. We are all different. Background, personality, experience, and so on.

But no more so than the writers of Scripture itself. They were all different, too. You only need to read what they wrote to see that for yourself.

But that didn't mean the truth they revealed was somehow highly 'subjective'.

The truth is not 'subjective'. And the exposition of that truth is also not subjective.

I'm bound to be myself in teaching Scripture: and as a result the way I teach the Scriptures will be coloured by my own distinctive teaching style, and helped, I hope, by what have been my own unique experiences.

But that doesn't make the exposition of Scripture a thing that is basically subjective. I can't simply make the Scriptures say just anything. I must let the Scriptures interpret themselves.

So I can't simply take the statement that "the Lord is the Rock eternal", for instance, and make it mean what I want. I have to let the Scripture interpret itself.

And so I have to take on board the immediate exposition of that statement that the Scriptures give. I have to take on board the many other references that there are to this great theme throughout the whole of Scripture. The 'rock' that Moses struck from which the water came. The statement that "that rock was Christ". And a whole load more.

I have to do a lot of work, in other words. I'm not a free agent, quite free to expound as I will. I am 'licensed' to preach. I am bound to expound what the Scriptures themselves have set out.

I am called and ordained and obliged under God to discern by the grace of his Spirit exactly what Scripture declares. And woe betide me if I seek or presume to do anything other than that.

'Truth' is not what I choose it to be. 'Truth' is not a chameleon-like thing which can change according to context. 'Truth' is not an elusive thing, dependent on the hearer.

'Truth' has been revealed. Made known. Made clear.

I expound that truth as such, on its own terms.

And I do so that others may learn to trust in the Lord. Forever.

On the basis of that truth which he's revealed about himself.

prayer

A guy named Ole Hallesby once wrote a book on prayer called .. well, simply, and without a lot of originality, "Prayer."

It doesn't need a flashy title. It's the content which is its selling point.

It's not a long book, but it's a hugely helpful book. And if you ever can get your hands on a copy, pay some good money to do so. It's worth it.

Simple, clear, godly, uplifting. The sort of thing that'll stir you to get down on your knees (at least metaphorically) and pray with growing confidence.

We're having to learn the importance of prayer all over again these days.

Crying out to God in the face of our need and in the face of the mess that we're in. I was at a meeting last night which highlighted just how deep is the pit that we're in.

I won't go into the details. But it was pretty depressing stuff. It felt a bit like being in a boat which was holed in a number of places: every time we patch up a hole there are three other holes through which the water is pouring.

A kind of sinking feeling.

God's people have been there before. The Bible's full of times like that. Which provides at least some minor measure of comfort.

Anyway. Back to Hallesby and his book on prayer.

It's a good long time since I've read that book but during its course he likens prayer to the boring of holes in the rockface into which the sticks of dynamite are pushed.

Prayer is boring.

He doesn't actually say just that, but I recall, the first time I read the book, smiling at that three-word simple summary of what the guy was saying.

The explosion of the dynamite which shatters the huge, hard face of solid, resistant rock - that, he says, is the work of the Holy Spirit. The dynamite of God.

Everyone wants to be around for that! It's exciting, dramatic, a moment not to be missed.

But before it ever happens there's the 'boring' work of prayer. Painstakingly slow, and wearisome, too - the business of boring those holes in the rock face where the sticks of dynamite then can be carefully placed.

That's never so attractive. Hardly that exciting.

But absolutely basic.

So we're doing a lot of praying in these days. Boring.

There's a solid, stony rockface of ungodliness confronting us, and it will not shift at all without the huge, explosive power of the Spirit of the living God.

We're boring the holes into which can be pushed the sticks of the Spirit's dynamite.

Warning. This is not a safe place to be.

life

I was through meeting folk in Glasgow today.

I went by train. And arriving in Queen Street station I noticed a man with a sign in his hands: the sort of thing you see at airports at the arrivals bit as the passengers come through the gates and need to meet up with a person they've never met.

This guy caught my eye.

Partly because I haven't seen that at a station before (not that I'm the world's greatest traveller). Partly because I was first off the train and the man was right at the turnstile.

And partly because of what his sign said.

LIFE.

I smiled. It seemed to me a very striking picture of our busy modern life.

All manner of people rushing around - but not really sure where life in its fulness is found. They need someone to point them on the way like that and say, 'you're wanting LIFE? Then here is where you'll find it.'

Then I smiled some more.

Beside this man with the sign saying LIFE there was another (much younger) man. Just standing there. Hands on hips.

And across his T-shirt were the two short words -

GOING NOWHERE.

I thought for a moment I should stop and introduce this second guy to the first.

But then I remembered this was Glasgow ... and, well ...

I mean, this could have been some evangelistic campaign the church in Glasgow was running for all I knew. Presenting the radical choice that faces us all.

LIFE ... or, well, GOING NOWHERE.

I left them to it. And pressed on to my meeting.

And a very strange thing took place during the couse of the meeting.

Not entirely unrelated to the scene at Queen Street station.

There was a man at the meeting I've known for years, but whom I haven't had any contact with for ages. As we moved towards the lunchtime break the Lord laid it very clearly on my heart that I had to go and speak with him.

Plain as daylight.

I was glad I did. He'd had the same intention: knew he had to speak with me.

It soon came out that something I'd said in another public meeting, maybe 8-12 years ago now I suppose, had really hurt his wife. And had left him feeling resentful towards myself.

All these years.

Unwitting and unintended on my behalf. But hurt and harm through a combination of my naivety and insensitivity.

It was good to have the opportunity to apologise. I hope he had a sense of just how contrite I was. He was very gracious himself in response. And not a little relieved, I think, in at last getting all of this out.

There's a psalm which came to mind. It starts -

"How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell together in unity."

He said, "I don't want to be resentful towards you. I want to treat you as my brother."

This matters so much to the Lord. Brothers dwelling together in unity.

These are important days in terms of the purpose of God. He's taking the lead himself, it seems, in addressing those things that have kept us as brothers apart. It matters to him.

And why?

Because of what's said at the end of that psalm. It's there, where brothers are dwelling together in untiy, it's "there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life for evermore."

LIFE.

Back where the day began.

Maybe the sign was for me!

Maybe the Lord was reminding us all that we're going nowhere until we sort these things all out in terms of our relationships with each other.

Brothers.

Brothers who must stand now by each other in the challenges we face.

Brothers who must dwell with one another in a Spirit-given unity. Which can be costly and painful.

"How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell together in unity. ... For there the Lord bestows his blessing, even life for evermore." [Psalm 133]

fire

I was reading Leviticus 9 today. It was like the Lord was speaking directly to me.

"Today the Lord will appear to you," said Moses.

Then again - "this is what the Lord has commanded you to do, so that the glory of the Lord may appear to you."

Just a little bit fuller. Not just 'the Lord' appearing to you, but 'the glory of the Lord'.

Then better still.

When Moses and Aaron came ot "they blessed the people: and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people."

Everyone was in on it.

And "fire came out from the presence of the Lord..."

That's what I'm looking for here.

The glory of the Lord appearing to us all.

The fire coming out.

Today.

grace

The Leadership Team are away this weekend. Well, Friday evening through to Saturday afternoon.

So there's quite a bit of preparation to be done for that. And the week is running out on me rather fast!

A bit like life itself.

A couple came in this morning and I stopped to chat with them.

A lovely couple, who've given so much down the years. But now, like so many their age, they're more and more dependent on the help that others give.

We chatted a bit about that. They spoke of the way they were conscious of losing both their dignity and liberty.

Old age, with all the infirmity old age entails, old age, I suggested, is God's final lesson in grace. An utter and total dependence on him for it all.

He does everything. Absolutely everything.

Our abilities and our energies, our efforts and our labours, our faith and our hope and our love, and our everything else - none of that's ever the reason God does what he does in our lives.

He does it all himself. We get what we're given by God, the glory of heaven itself, simply and purely because he chooses to act in that way.

Learning that lesson may well see us losing both our dignity and our liberty. But learning the lesson is a truly, wholly liberating thing.

It isn't dependent on me.

Not at all.

Which is just as well! Because when it comes to preparing this Leadership Team's time away, I'm stepping right into the dark.

It's not a thing I've done before. Taking thirteen or fourteen folk away with a view to their hearing the word of the Lord and discerning his will for our life.

A great idea! A wonderful notion!

But, practically speaking, how on earth do you bring it about?

In four short sessions can we really get clear what it is that the Lord is directing our living towards?

Grace. God does it all.

Grace. God takes the weak things of this world, even the things that are not - and confounds the strong. God takes an inexperienced guy like me, who's not done this sort of thing before in his life - and effects what he's purposed to do.

A friend was in today. A man who knows far more about such leadership than I have ever known.

I saw that as a providence of God. A token of his hand upon our lives.

I was chatting away with this man about the time we'll spend away, explaining what it was I hoped to see and asking how he'd use the time himself.

It was rather reassuring to discover that he'd seek to go about things in the sort of way I'd thought.

But I come back always to that final lesson in grace. God does it all.

It won't ever happen unless God does it himself. We won't ever hear what he's saying to us, unless the Lord speaks and unless he opens our ears. We won't ever see what he's doing, unless and until he opens our eyes to see. We won't ever know his direction for us, unless he makes it all clear.

That's grace. God must do it all.

Pray with me that he will!

offence

The nurse wasn't all that pleased when I looked in at the hospital today. (I love the entrance to this hospital! I always imagine the folk who live inside the little house waking up one morning to find that some naughty prankster has built a set of stilts beneath their floor!)

"Do you know when the visiting hours are?" she asked.

Which I did. Roughly speaking, anyway. And by that time, yes, I knew I was way beyond the limits.

And, yes, I know they've got their job to do and they're not always helped by people like me wandering in. That's why they have the visiting hours, obviously.

This was a pastoral visit, I explained. And I can't always fit all the visits I'm wanting to make into neat little blocks of time which suit the hospital. Was it OK by them if I carried on?

I'm a sook at times. I don't ever like to offend or cause trouble for others. I bend over backwards to be ever so courteous when faced by a thing like this.

But I'm not that sure this nurse was into courtesy. She had a job to do. And I was perhaps the very last straw in a day which was doubtless a strain.

She let me in to see the person, anyway. I must smile quite sweetly at times! And I was profuse in my thanks, whatever the problems I'd caused.

The person I saw was quite overwhelmed. She hadn't expected me in. It meant a lot to her. It was as if the Lord himself had ambled in to be beside the woman in her need.

I was glad I'd gone in and glad that I'd persisted even though in terms of visiting I crossed the line. The Lord was there and at work.

Sometimes we just have to live with this, the fact that we cause offence. Not needless offence. But offence, sometimes, in making Jesus known and going where he leads.

He was exactly the same.

needy people

"You know what you really need?"

You've probably had that said to you before. It's not really a question, it's more a warning.

Even if you say 'Yes', you're still going to get the advice that's coming your way.

It happened to me again today. I was chatting away with a friend and all of a sudden, out of the blue, it was this little line that came out.

Now there are really quite a lot of things I 'know I really need': I could have kept the guy there for hours as I ran through the list.

But I figured he was going to tell me anyway. And the sooner I let him the better.

So I simply said - tell me.

His answer was not what I'd really expected I have to say.

"You need to stop being a presbyterian church!"

In the current climate that's a pretty provocative guideline the guy was throwing to me. But he didn't exactly mean it the way that it sounded.

I think.

"I don't mean in terms of the way the church is governed," he said. "I mean you need to develop a praying community."

He must have seen my bemused and slightly incredulous look.

"I don't mean that you never pray" (referring to more than just me - he was talking about our corporate life): "but you need to become a praying community."

He'd known that sort of thing himself before. In a sort of former life.

And I guess he was simply stressing the fact that our growing to be a people uniting in prayer is the basis for any real progress, in terms of the purpose of God.

Prayer not an adjunct to our common life - one of the things that we do. But the absolute foundation. The thing on which the other things all rest. The thing from which the other things all flow.

Philippi came to mind. It's a town in northern Greece and how the church started in Philippi is told in some detail by the man who first wrote down the story of how the church grew.

In fact, it's about the only place where we're told in any detail how a church began.

And it started with ... well, a praying community. A small group of folk who simply got down to some praying.

After that a remarkable sequence of wonderful Jesus events began to unfold: the dramatic and life-changing work of the Spirit of God.

So, yes. My friend, of course, is right.

We need to become, more and more, an overtly praying community.

Which may seem obvious.

But something else happened as well today which highlighted well where much of the challenge now lies.

I came across a man today, a member of the congregation here, whose statement really shook me to the core. "I'm not a believer."

Now that's got to be a bit of a problem if the folk who make up the congregation here are not themselves believers!

And maybe that's the essence of the problem through the wider church across our land today. The absence of faith.

There's loads of love, I'm sure.

And not a little 'hope', I guess (the same sort of crazy Scottish optimism about the Church which leads folk to think it's only a matter of time before Scotland finally wins the World Cup).

But the absence of faith is a problem!

When the toughened old warden of Philippi's jail asked Paul "what must I do to be saved?" he wasn't told, 'love your neighbour': he wasn't told, 'hope for the best'.

He was told very simply, 'Believe. Believe in the Lord Jesus.'

And here we have a member of the church who says - "I'm not a believer."

This is 'Houston, we have a problem' stuff. There are folk within the Christian church who are .. well, basically not believers.

You know what I really need?

sand castles

I seem to be talking with folk a lot these days.

Talking, and listening and teasing out all sorts of things we're finding we need to address. And listening through it all to the Lord. Discerning his quiet, gentle voice, as he whispers amidst all the noise.

Jesus once said of himself that "the Son can only do what he sees the father doing." Which is sound advice for us all.

What's Dad doing? Because that's where I want to be.

So our 'listening' for him is really no more than our trying to discern just where he is and what he's at and pinpoint where his voice is coming from.

"I'm over here. This is what I'm doing."

There's been a lot of that today again. Sometimes on my own, to be sure, in patient 'preparation'. But sometimes with others as well.

We're more and more persuaded now the Lord intends to ratchet up a level or two the work that we're involved in through our halls.

He wants to make himself known. He can't help it. He's not one to hide at all. He won't play hard to find. He wants us to know what he's like and actually know him ourselves.

How does that happen?

Because that's where he is. "I'm over here. And this is what I'm doing."

So that's all we really want to do as well. And we're trying our best to figure out just what that's going to mean.

It's exciting. And just a little bit scary as well.

But we're praying along those lines. And expecting great things from the Lord.

It's easy to end up committed to all sorts of things. Busy, busy.

It can look quite impressive. Dedicated followers of Jesus. Doing so much.

But if all of our effort is not being directed to where the Lord's at and what the Lord's doing just now, it's missing the point and really nothing more than building castles in the sand. They can look impressive. But ... well, it's summer, you've been to the beach, you know what happens yourself.

I was through in Glasgow at night. Hence the time of writing - I'm not long back. There were good numbers there. And in some ways the challenge was very much just on those lines.

What is the Lord doing in these days? On a wider front. Through our land. In all that's going on within the church.

What is the Father doing? Because we only want ourselves to be doing that.

So the talking and praying and thinking out loud that went on is all of it part of the process of opening our eyes and seeing what the Lord is now at.

The summer's past. The time for the sand castles is over.

the death of the life

Here are a couple of quotes from a book I've been reading.

The writer has that lovely knack of being able in a single sentence to put his finger on the nub of the issues we face. I love his bluntness!

"There is no perfect storm out there that can sink the church of Jesus Christ. No matter how much or how rapidly culture changes, the church is designed to prevail. Yet, with each culture shift, it is painfully obvious that the church has become an institution rather than a movement.

"The distinction lies in the fact that institutions preserve culture, while movements create culture."

We're a movement. A wide open sea, where the waves of the Spirit of God are everywhere seen - not a stagnant little pond.

How on earth do we get ourselves back to what we're meant to be? How can we ever transform a whole big institution back into a movement of God?

Those are the sort of issues I'm trying to address in these days. It means a lot of seeing and speaking with folk. It takes a lot of time.

* * *

Here's another quote from the guy.

"When those who hold positions of leadership in the church of Jesus Christ stand opposed to the very heart of God and refuse to submit their lives to his Word, it is the death of the life of that church."

He doesn't pull his punches. And he hits the nail on the head.

The death of the life of that church.

The moment when 'movement' petrifies into museum.

born again

Moses. I shouldn't have left you wondering at the end of yesterday's post if I'd been doing some Dr Who-type time travelling.

Moses is from Malawi. And Dublin. If that's not too confusing.

He's part of the Dublin-based group called John 3:7 who are staying in our halls at this time.

He and his brother (in Christ) - called Shane, I should say, not Aaron, to avoid any misunderstanding - arrived last night as the advance party. The rest will arrive tonight, sometime after midnight, when I'll be hoping to be safely tucked up in bed.

They're a group who engage in street evangelism. They stand on the streets of Dublin - and Edinburgh, too, these next few days - with large perspex boards which simply say JOHN 3:7.

That's all. And people come and talk. I guess they're a bit intrigued - the more so, perhaps, if they've had a bit to drink - and want to find out what on earth this is all about.

Maybe you do too. Maybe you're madly scrambling for your Bible now to look the thing up for yourself!

Because you know the JOHN 3:16 thing. I mean, that text pitches up everywhere.

Literally. Football pitches, cricket pitches, athletic tracks, and just about anywhere else you can think of. Probably even the moon, for all I know.

But this is JOHN 3:7. And the subtle little difference means (1) you don't know the text off by heart and (2) you're intrigued to know what it does actually say.

I guess that's how it works. That, and the simple question in folks' minds as to why on earth these very varied guys are standing around with big yellow perspex boards in their arms which herald a name and two numbers.

People stop and talk.

And they soon find out what the reference actually says.

"You should not be surprised at my saying, 'You must be born again'."

Oh.

Ohhhhh!

Long story short - people come to faith.

They find themselves 'born again'. They enter the kingdom of God. They start to follow Jesus as the one who gives new life.

It's not a very complicated thing. It's not a hugely intrusive thing at all.

They're simply there if you want. But it's clear what they're really on about, and there's enough that's intriguing to make passers by take a look.

Why do I go on about this?

Well, just because we've been thinking ourselves very hard about how we're in danger in all that we do of actually missing the point.

And it's just as if the Lord has brought these folk to our halls to remind us of what we're about. Sharing the good news of Jesus.

Not running a wonderful cafe. Not managing a busy and brilliant community centre.

But sharing good news by these means.

There's a cafe on Harris that merits a plug. And has really made me think.

The Skoon Art Cafe. It's miles from anywhere. Off a road that's off a road that at best is no more than a C road.

People don't drop in because it's there by the side of the road. They go because they know what it is that they'll get.

Which is more than just a cup of coffee or tea. Or a bowl of soup or scone or cake. Or whatever.

The man who runs it is an artist. That's his passion in life.

In fact, he once told me that he looks forward each day to the moment the cafe closes - since then he can get back to his painting.

You can't avoid being aware of that. His paintings are all around the walls.

It's a lovely place, and the food and the service is good. But it's plain as daylight that the cafe is not what the man and the place are really all about.

It's art the man loves. It's art that fires this man. It's art that he lives for. It's there in the name. And you can't get away from it when actually there.

And in some ways, too, that's why people go. It's not just for the coffee or the food. It's because there's something more.

It isn't intrusive at all. He doesn't thrust this passion for his art right down your throat.

Anymore than the guys from JOHN 3:7 do the passion in their lives.

But it's there. And it's plain and clear as daylight what these folk are really on about.

Now that's what we're being challenged about in what we do.

Our place is called the Reception Area. OK, a rather uninspiring name.

But it lets you know what we're really, deep down on about.

Reception. The Lord receiving people. And people receiving the Lord.

As simple as that.

But it's easy for that to get crowded out by all that's involved in serving the coffee and food. And easy to slowly lose sight of just what it is we're on about.

Until people who come aren't aware of that at all. And even we have lost sight of the thing as well.

So having Moses around has helped us to hear what the Lord has been saying to us all through these days.

Perhaps the whole venture requires to be born again!

shaking

Some people think Haggai is the plural of haggis.

It's not. It's the name of a Hebrew prophet who brought God's word to his people at a troubled time in their life.

I read from his message to the Leadership Team tonight. Including this -

"This is what the Lord Almighty says: 'In a little while I will once more shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and ther dry land. I will shake all nations, and the desired of all nations will come, and I will fill this house with glory,' says the Lord Almighty."

'Shaking' is one of the things he does. And it's happening here and now.

Here in the local church. Here in the church across the nation. And right now. In these days.

One of the leaders had experienced an earthquake. 7.3 on the Richter scale. He was some 300 miles away, but it was scary enough.

'Disorienting' was the word he used.

There's a lot of that happening here in these days. It's easy to get disoriented. And the shaking's so strong and persistent here (both locally and nationally), that I'm running around doing my best to keep folk from falling, their heads are in such a big spin.

Yesterday I had lunch with a guy I hadn't met before. He's an Anglican priest from Bredasdorp in southern Africa.

Cape Agulhas is in his parish (or one of the seven he runs). You can't go further south than that on the whole of the African continent.

I mention that as an incidental fact because there's a sense that the whole of the work we're involved in here is heading south. As they say.

It was a 'funeral' lunch. He was right at the end of his holiday here and I asked him about what the Lord had been saying to him through this time apart.

'Faith,' he said. 'That's the word the Lord has been laying on my heart.'

Strange. The very last part of the passage with which the funeral service began read thus - "I will praise you for your faithfulness."

And the very last part of the passage with which I closed was pretty much the same - "He who calls you is faithful and he will do it."

Faith. The Lord is full of faith. Utterly, wholly faith-ful.

And because of that truth we're urged as well to be full of faith ourselves. "Be faith-ful unto death and I will give you the crown of life."

I'd rather it didn't end up in death (though it will do one day, of course!). But that's not my call.

He who calls you is faithful - which means that he will do it. Which means that I can trust him and be full of faith myself.

Even when the whole place is shaking like mad.

He knows what he's doing. And the shaking is needed to wake folk out of their slumber, to get things the way they should be.

It took an earthquake in the town of Philippi to bring a tough Roman veteran soldier into the kingdom.

"I will shake all nations, and the desired of all nations will come."

Don't worry about the earthquakes, says the Lord. I know what I'm doing.

Which is just as well.

Getting shaken around like this these days is hardly all that comfortable. But when the Lord does the shaking the desired of all nations come.

Exciting!

Not least because Moses pitched up as well this evening! But that's another story.

confessing churches

An article appeared in The Herald today which is, in all sorts of ways, sadly and soundly misleading.

And since it implicitly implicates all of us here, it's helpful, I think, to try and set the record straight.

The writer's referring to the 'fellowship of confessing churches' and here's what he says -

"Nearly 40 rebel parishes across Scotland have joined forces in a defiant stand against the Church of Scotland over gay ordination, the issue that threatens to split the ancient body.

Well, that's an unfortunate start, is it not?

'Rebel'? Hardly. The fellowship of confessing churches is concerned to affirm what the Church of Scotland has always historically believed. Which doesn't exactly tie in with the notions of rebels.

And a 'defiant stand against the Church of Scotland'? That's a little bit over the top, to say the least. Affirming these long-held convictions which the Church has historically held is not either fairly or best described in these terms.

And to suggest that this 'stand' (defiant or not) is 'over gay ordination' is missing the point - and not really reading the text of the fellowship's script. 'Gay ordination' (whatever exactly that means - and readers assume different meanings whenever such shorthand is used) gets no specific treatment in the list of affirmations which the fellowship articulates.

As fears rise that the Kirk’s move to halt public discussion on human sexuality could accelerate its disintegration, individual churches have “unashamedly” signed up to a campaign of non-co-operation against the Church over its decision not to address the question of allowing gay ministers for two years.

I don't for a moment doubt there are very real fears that the whole Kirk could 'disintegrate', but it's simply not true that there's any 'campaign': and it's really unfair to suggest there's a stubborn 'non-co-operation' at the heart of what the fellowship's about. Unfair because untrue. There's no 'campaign' of any sort, and 'non-co-operation' is not on our minds at all: unless 'co-operation' means agreeing with everything that's said and done, which it doesn't.

It includes nine churches in Glasgow and surrounds (it depends what you call the 'surrounds': the way they're listed on the website there are twelve in Glasgow and the South West),

four in Edinburgh (which includes ourselves),

and four in the north-east around Aberdeen.

Members of the General Assembly have described the move to appoint a special commission, which it is understood does not have any gay or lesbian members, to review gay ordination after the gay divorced father of one Rev Scott Rennie was allowed to take up a post as minister in Aberdeen, as a “fudge”.

I'm not so sure it's as much that the thing is a 'fudge' that the comments suggest as that the result is highly confusing. The General Assembly decides one way at one point, and then, in almost the very next breath, it declares, 'No wait, we're not really sure, and haven't decided anything really yet'. That, as I say, is as much confusing as fudged.

But this, of course, is a widespread perception that many have shared and is not the particular property of the fellowship of confessing churches.

One parish, which the Kirk refused to name, has indicated to officials that it will withdraw congregational funding to the central Kirk, a key component of Church of Scotland affiliation for hundreds of years.

That may be so, but it should be underlined that this is not in any way a 'party line' commended by the fellowship. The fellowship is just that - a fellowship, not some sinister lobbying group.

As long as that's clear, that's fine. But it's made to read as if this is somehow the 'line' the fellowship's taken. Not so.

Now 35 churches have publicly said they will not accept gay ordination under any circumstances, putting them on collision course with the Kirk ahead of the critical 2011 General Assembly when the special commission reports back, and more are to follow.

Well, actually they haven't. Not if you read what the fellowship seeks to affirm. You can draw that implication if you like, but it's not what they've actually said. What they've said is rather different and addresses the whole broad issue of sexual morality in a much more rounded way.

To suggest, moreover, that 'they will not accept gay ordination under any circumstances' is the stuff of innuendo. By contrast, it's never suggested at all by anything the fellowship affirms that those who are homosexual should not, by reason of their sexuality, be ordained.

It's never suggested. Because that's simply not the case. And it's highly misleading to suggest by the use of that very ambiguous phrase - 'gay ordination' - that it is.

And the whole business of this 'putting them on collision course with the Kirk ahead of the critical 2011 General Assembly when the special commission reports back' - well, that's an interesting statement, is it not?

I thought the Kirk was yet to make up its mind on the matter. And that that's what the Special Commission was helping the Kirk to do.

How can you be on collision course when, at least in the general theory of things, the Kirk hasn't said what the path is it's chosen to take?

Come on, who's playing games with whom?

The defiant congregations believe that by adhering to a “covenant” compiled by the evangelical group, Fellowship of Confessing Churches, they can stay within the auspices of the Kirk while standing firm against accepting gay ordination. They have agreed to place the unambiguous statement in a prominent place in their churches.

There we have it again. 'Defiant' congregations. I think that misrepresents what they're about.

The 'covenant' is really nothing more than a straightforward re-statement of what the Church has always historically believed. I mean, you can check it out and see for yourself.

It's not about 'gay ordination'. It's about what it is that as Christians we believe and how it is that as followers of Jesus Christ we're called to behave.

The covenant signatories “recognise God’s creation of humankind as male and female and the unchangeable standard of Christian marriage between one man and one woman as the proper place for sexual intimacy and the basis of the family. We acknowledge the great harm that has come from our failures to maintain this standard, and we repent and call for a renewed commitment to lifelong fidelity in marriage and abstinence for those who are not married.”

This is as much (if not massively more) about heterosexual behaviour as it is about specifically homosexual behaviour. Great harm (and hurt - great hurt) has been done by our failure to uphold clear biblical standards in relation to sexual activity, not least on the part of ministers, and not least in regard to heterosexual activity.

Is there a problem with our humbly acknowledging that?

Isn't it plain as daylight when you look around society that enormous harm and hurt has been done within our society's life by the wholesale permissive attitudes which have prevailed and the consequent relational chaos within which so many grow up?

And isn't it simply the case that the church has been too often silent, and even indeed complicit in all of this, by herself being plainly 'permissive' in failing to challenge and deal with such things in her members' and ministers' lives?

And isn't it time that some of us simply spoke up and acknowledged the hurt and the harm that's been caused in this way? What on earth is so wrong with that?

The fellowship, which was in existence for some time, is not solely there to fight gay ordination, said one Glasgow minister.

It's actually stronger than that. It's not even primarily there for that reason. And the notion of 'fighting gay ordination' ... well, I hope that I've highlighted enough how misleading that phrasing can be.

The Rev William Philip, of St George’s Tron, said: “I’m very glad that the fellowship gives our congregation an opportunity to publicly make a stand for the orthodox Christian Gospel, so that anyone who comes to our church knows this is what we believe in.”

In the wake of the widespread confusion as to what the church believes, it's surely both helpful and fair to let folk know. We owe it to folk to be clear about what the Church has always historically believed.

The Herald revealed on Wednesday that the controversial gagging order has already been disregarded by one minister, while another has resigned over the Kirk’s position, narrowly established after debate and a vote at the gathering of nearly 1000 Assembly delegates in Edinburgh in May. However, no-one at the Church’s headquarters in the Scottish capital is willing to address the latest breach on the grounds that members are unable to discuss publicly anything to do with the issue.

Well, of course, that's part of the problem! We're caught in a really pretty pickle!

I'm not all that sure that the so-called 'breach' of the 'controversial gagging order' is actually such at all. The guy wasn't talking about the 'issue' itself: he was talking about the 'moratorium' on speaking publicly about it.

But maybe you're not allowed to speak about that either!

In fact, maybe I'm not meant to comment in public about a (misleading) newspaper article which refers to the 'moratorium' which relates to our speaking publicly about 'the issue'.

Which is about third-cousin-twice-removed from what the Assembly actually ruled in its so-called 'gagging order'. But now the whole thing's got just about everyone running scared.

The Kirk insists potential disciplinary matters are firstly dealt with by presbytery officials, but clerks say they are prevented from acting publicly because of the ban.

The Rev Louis Kinsey, of St Columba’s Church in Aberdeen, who vehemently opposed the appointment of Mr Rennie, said the moratorium “only adds to the momentum towards disintegration”.

None of the presbyteries of Glasgow, Edinburgh, Aberdeen or Lochcarron and Skye, the latter of which had sought debate on gay ordination at the last Assembly, would comment.

Silence rules.

But in days of considerable confusion it's not silence which is going to help so much as a clear, unequivocal voice.