feeling the heat

Last week was way too busy. Events beyond my control.

And I kept on resolving as each day went by - next week there'll be more time to pause and think.

"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" - to quote the bard himself (MacBeth, in the title role of Shakespeare's play).

Well, I'm into 'next week'. And things aren't looking all that different!

On top of the usual list of things to do, the fixtures in my average week, I've already got two additional services all lined up in the wake of two of our older members having passed away.

And today another of our elderly men, another man up in his nineties, passed away. The nursing home called and when I rang back they told me the man was almost done. I was round pretty much straightaway, but the man was already dead.

I took some time on my own in his room with the man. Or his corpse, to be more precise. The man was no longer there. Though outwardly he looked pretty much as he'd always looked these last few years as he lay there on his bed, but the life had departed.

A picture, perhaps, of the church.

Outwardly everything's fine. But inside, the bits you don't really see ... inside, I wonder, perhaps it's the case that the life has in large part departed.

The life of the Spirit of God.

Samson (you remember him? The strong man with the flowing locks who accomplished so much by the power of the Spirit of God): Samson, for instance - he didn't really realise until too late that the Spirit of God had gone, had quietly packed up his bags and left on the overnight train with barely a word of farewell.

I sometimes wonder if that's really part (maybe all) of the reason I find myself running around through these days, chasing my tail and chasing the clock and sort of chasing the end of the rainbow. A pretty fruitless exercise.

The treadmill's getting faster, and it's harder keeping up.

Is that because the Spirit of God has withdrawn, and I'm left trying to do what he does?

Or is it because these are days when all of a sudden the battle's been finally engaged?

Like a couple of heavy-weight boxers, who've been sparring in a rather cagey manner for who knows how many rounds ... and then suddenly the punches are flying and they're going at it hammer and tong.

Or like those indoor cyclists who go slowly round the velodrome, circuit after circuit, eyeing each other up until all of a sudden the action explodes and their feet and their legs are all pumping like nothing on earth.

The battle is finally engaged.

I think there's something of that in these days. And I sense it will only get worse.

The fires on the rim of the great volcano crater are starting to burn. But the volcano itself has still to erupt.

Maybe it's both. The corpse and the crater.

The corpse of the church from which the Spirit has left - and my wearisome efforts to run ever harder to try and keep everything going. It feels like that, at least some of the time.

And the crater of spiritual conflict across our land in these days, where the fires on the rim which are starting to burn are the crises requiring attention.

But those patches of flame on the rim of this great volcano are also the notice being served on us all that the fires of the Lord's Holy Spirit are about to erupt once again.

The landscape's about to be changed. Volcanoes have that effect.

There's a sense in these days that the whole extensive landscape of church life throughout our nation will be changed: perhaps beyond all recogition.

Dramatically re-configured by a powerful eruption of the blazing fires of God's own holy anger and his holy heart of love.

Life on the rim of the crater when the fires begin to push through is hot and hard and very, very dangerous.

That's where I think I'm at these days. And that's why I'm feeling the heat.