how silently

No post here yesterday.

The time disappeared. Not least because of lengthy conversations on the telephone with -

(a) the branch of the bank where I hold my account:

no, they couldn't do anything about my overdraft, without authorisation from the on-line fraud people - they couldn't be sure without such authorisation that my ringing up was not an attempt on my part to defraud them. ...

I asked them how I could be sure that the people I'd rung to address the fraud were actually not part of the fraud itself: good question, they answered (I'd meant it just as a joke!).

(b) the bank's fraud specialists:

they want to scour my computer for this virus that's infected it: they're good at their job and run all sorts of tests while I sit at my desk and twiddle my thumbs and watch them move the cursor all over the place from what conceivably is the other side of the world.

Chris is the name of the guy who's doing this for me and with me: he doesn't sound like he's from over the other side of the world (but then maybe that's all part of the fraud - you can see how suspicious the whole thing's already left me!).

Before too long I feel like Chris is a friend whom I've known for years. First name terms always helps of course. And there's a certain (thoroughly un-Christian) pleasure in watching the way he ruthlessly goes about tracking down this evil virus which has swiped such sizeable sums from my bank account.

(c) our own IT specialists:

they're wanting to do their own tests and scans and checks: I'm having a sort of three-way conversation as the bank's own fraud guys are telling me that only maybe 1 in 40 of the anti-virus software can detect a virus like this, and they're wanting to know what the virus scan has shown up.

I feel a bit like piggy-in-the-middle, and a bystander in this process. It's a bit like having surgery done on your innards while you're still awake and watching it all taking place. They're going right into the 'guts' of my poor laptop, which plainly doesn't know what's hit it.

All that on top of everything else which yesterday held.

Which included the lunch-time service where the passage on which I was preaching referred to folk who found themsleves in "extreme poverty". The Lord has a sense of humour!

But yesterday has long since gone. And today's followed a pretty similar fashion.

My long-standing friend (of one day's duration) Chris has been on the phone again, moving my cursor around and doing his IT 'cleansing of the temple' stuff. I feel like a leper who's just been pronounced 'clean' by the fraud squad priests.

All of that has really just been a side-show, though. A regular little reminder that I still exist in a cyberspace world.

Most of the day's been with people.

Along at the Royal High again in the morning. This time the S3 year group (we're working down the years with the 'climax' coming on Monday when we reach the S1s).

Straight from there to the service here which the local primary school are holding. Not quite the whole school, but P3-7: so the place is mobbed. Parents and grannies and grandpas are there, and all sorts of others, too.

Celebrating Christmas. It's good and traditional stuff. Not the made up 'fluff' which down the years has simply taken over.

Five traditional Christmas hymns. Readings from the Bible to tell the Christmas story. The P7s doing the 'rap' they learned last week (and excelling themsleves again). And a chance for me to speak in pretty clear terms about what Christmas is really all about.

It's a great occasion and pupils and parents alike seem to enjoy it all.

Some of the staff are in for a coffee afterwards. There's a buzz about the place. A bit like Bethlehem must have been when Jesus was born.

Because in among all of the noise and the chat, God has pitched up and there are things going on in the lives of some of the people there which are little short of miracle.

Not seen or noticed by most of the folk. But wonderful to behold. Hard-seeming folk are opening up and pouring their hearts out in pain. Letting God in to their lives.

How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given! So God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven. No ear may hear his coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive him, still the dear Christ enters in.

It was like that here this morning. Christmas was happening all over again. And most folk didn't notice. The Lord is very discreet.

How silently the wondrous gift is given.

The afternoon and evening saw a switch to the other end of the age spectrum.

The Tor is a local nursing home, run very much as a distinctively Christian place: they have two regular weekly services there, on a Sunday and a Thursday, and from time to time I'm asked to lead the service.

It's a short, half hour service, with 3 or 4 singings of old, familiar hymns (which most of them could sing in their sleep: some of them probably are asleep, of course!), a couple of prayers and a reading from Scripture with a short exposition thereafter.

It's a lovely time always. The singing varies, and some of the time it feels like I'm singing a solo: the responses vary as well - from those who've remained asleep, through those who've fallen asleep to those who are very appreciative ("what a nice man..", "what a tall man..", "what a good word..", and "thank you").

We've a couple of folk resident there in the home so I pop in and see them as well (they haven't made it to the service). They're looked after well and always glad to see me. And me them. I've known them for years and they were always so faithful, prayerful and kind.

There'd been a call through the day in regard to a lady, well on in her years, who was failing quite fast.

She's out in another nursing home, and I learned that her daughter, whom I'd tried a few times to contact, is there at the home with her mother. I called out there at night and shared for a while in her daughters' patient vigil at her side.

There's another lady there, in the same part of the home, who's shared in our life very fully for many a year, but is now pretty much restricted to the home. I took the chance to see her, too, though by then it was getting late (at least, in her sort of daily routine).

Another day goes by. And I'm thinking, how busy everyone is at this time of year. Including myself.

Just like Bethlehem was.

And just like it was at Bethlehem, long, long ago, all silent and unseen the living God's pitched up and is wonderfully at work in many people's lives.