silence

It takes some time for the dust of Christmas to settle.

When Christmas falls on a Saturday, there's a three-day burst of high-octane and extra-ordinary worship. Followed by a calm that, by contrast, is almost eerie.

People's energy levels dip to the point of oblivion. Excitement becomes exhaustion. The rapturous praise of the festive days is lost in the sound of silence.

I sometimes think these days which follow Christmas are akin to what we read of in the book of Revelation. "There was silence in heaven for about half an hour." [Rev.8.1]

The growing, three-fold crescendo of praise which has gone before, culminating in the glorious celebration of the Lamb at the centre shepherding his people and leading them to springs of living water; and the wonderful affirmation that God will wipe away every tear from their eyes - that growing crescendo of praise is suddenly lost in a hushed and holy silence.

Now, I appreciate that the relative calm and quiet that's descended on all of our lives since Christmas Day and Boxing Day were done is certainly a very different thing. But the 'silence' on this blog these last few days is more the thing I mean.

The whole extraordinary thing we celebrate at Christmas time is just too big to take in on the hoof. The reason why we celebrate with soaring songs of elevated praise is huge - so large and all-encompassing, we need some time and space to ponder and reflect upon it all. To allow the sheer mystery to soak through all the superficial garments of our praise and get beneath our skin. To allow our hearts to marvel once again at God's great, all-sufficient grace in Jesus Christ.

The 'wee lamb' there in the manger (as we sometimes describe a baby) has grown to be the very Lamb of God. The Lamb of God has now become (what wonderful pictures the Scriptures set out!) the Shepherd of the flock.

This Child, whose birth we celebrate so well, has grown to be the matchless Man, whose death on our behalf has dealt at last the death-blow to the things which grieve us most. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Christmas without Easter would be terrifying.

The holy, pure and altogether righteous God, come down to be with us: well, that would be simply frightening ... if we don't have One to take on our behalf a mediatorial role.

It's Christmas as the start of something new which gives us cause to sing. God has come down not simply to be with us, but to do something for us.

What good is the birth of a little child so long ago, if that's all the whole thing amounts to - what good is that birth to a person who's struggling with illness and soon to die?

But if this is the coming of God himself, intent on effecting the greatest of all rescue acts, addressing the problem of sin, removing sin's guilt, breaking sin's power, and, finally, utterly banishing sin's very presence in a world made wholly new - well, that gives us all, whoever we are, whatever our personal circumstances, that gives us all good cause to rejoice.

We all need the silence to take it all in.

It's a huge thing God has done!

shining eyes

Benjamin Zander is a classical musician.

He loves classical music. And he thinks that everyone else in the whole wide world will love classical music, too. They just need some help in seeing it.

"Classical music is for everyone," he argues. "They just don't know it yet!"

He makes it his life's work now to help other people discover its joys for themselves.

Replace 'classical music' with whatever stirs your spirit and 'floats your boat', whatever is the passion in your life. You're maybe a teacher of English Literature, and you doubtless feel exactly that enthusiasm for your subject. Or a teacher of Maths. Or you're heavily into environmental issues and you feel that way. Or anything else.

It's for everyone, you'll want to argue. They just don't know it yet.

Well, that's how we Christians are when it comes to Jesus and the gospel. Jesus is for everyone. The good news is for all.

It's just they don't all know it yet. There's some explaining to do!

Anyway, if you've got a spare 20 minutes then you'll certainly not waste that time if you watch the clip below. Benjamin Zander helping a crowd of 1,600 people 'discover' classical music.

Transfer what he's saying and doing to what we're about as the church and you'll catch some sense of of what it is we're about.

Classical music with shining eyes.

time

Christmas week. I love it!

But there's a lot on and it's an early start. I've a few things to do before heading off to today's first-thing-in-the-morning Royal High School assembly.

They're having 'Nation' assemblies rather than year-group assemblies at Christmas this year. Everyone in the school is allocated to one of four 'Nations' (the Picts, the Scots, the Britons and the Angles): doing it this way means there are four assemblies instead of the usual five (I get Wednesday 'off' - which is just as well since there's a Primary School Christmas service that morning first thing, and I've yet to learn the skill of being in more than one place at a time).

I speak on a different theme to each of the four assemblies - though they're all tied in to Christmas (albeit in a discreet sort of way - they're 'whole school' assemblies, after all, intended to be inclusive). Today I speak about time.

The shepherds gave their time - hours, certainly, once they'd left their sheep and walked up the hill to Bethlehem, seen the young couple and their new born baby and shared with them the equivalent of the regulatory 'cup of tea' (hospitality counted for much in those days).

The men from the east gave their time - in their case certainly weeks and more probably months. They took the time to travel; and they gave, as well as their costly gifts - they gave perhaps as much as a year of their lives in a way that would have been a huge and timely encouragement to Joseph and Mary.

Years back now, when I was just starting on the long adventure of fatherhood, I heard a statistic which shocked me to the core. The average amount of (quality, 'dedicated') time a father gives to his children every day.

10 seconds.

There are reasons why that is the case - because most fathers would be shocked at the thought that that might be all that they gave to their child each day.

They're busy men. They're tired probably (they work quite hard, after all - and probably stay up way too late at night). They're maybe distracted and worried (they have responsible jobs doubtless, and maybe on the personal front their lives have become just a little complicated too).

And yes, they're probably selfish and lazy as well.

10 seconds can end up being a good day.

I talk about the gift of time to the Britons today. It's a salutary lesson for all of us at this time. Christmas sees us all getting busy and tired and distracted and worried: and we all can be selfish and lazy as well.

It sets the note for the day. Time. Giving people time.

I'm out seeing folk in the morning. And then again in the afternoon. Along at one of the hospitals. I give the man's wife a lift back home. It would be a couple of buses for her otherwise - and not at a good time of day.

It's slow going back, the traffic is rush-hour-compounded-by-snow sort of speed. It takes some time. But then, it's time I'm glad to give. And time that she in her turn is glad to be given. It makes a little difference to her, I think, at a difficult time for them all.

And I'm out seeing someone at night as well. A person I've come to know just a bit in the wake of two bereavements. It's been hard and sore, the path of grief this person has had to walk.

But I've had the sense since I first was involved that the Lord is at work through the darkness of sorrow and grief, and that somehow, in God's kind providence, these griefs will prove to be the entrance to a whole new work of grace within this person's life.

It'll take time, I don't doubt. And part of the time that's involved is the time that I'm willing to give.

It's another long day by its close. And I'm left to wonder again where all the time went!

The answer, I suppose, is simple. It was given away.

More often than not, that gift of time is actually far more valuable than all of the gold, myrrh and frankincense which the men from the east carefully brought.

ditch the ditto

I came across this striking photo today of two homes which have been decorated with external Christmas lights.

You might argue a lack of creativity on the part of the folk on the right. Or, I suppose, you might argue, conversely, a huge creativity on their part.

As a comment on society at large, it's perhaps a graphic picture of the way our lives get lived.

We're a good deal lazier, probably, than once we were. We don't put it in those terms, of course. We speak instead of the need for rest and the right we have to some comfort.

But, hey, we're often rather lazy.

Our meals now come pre-packaged. The microwave is wonderful. Why take the trouble to do things ourselves when others will do it for you.

We're a good deal less creative, too. The whole fashion industry, for instance, is built on our sheep-like commitment to 'DITTO' as the way we now express ourselves.

Someone else dictates the way we dress. I mean, how creative is that?

Christmas is anything but a lazy sort of 'ditto' from the Lord.

It's God the great Creator at his own creative best. Even the angels of heaven are stunned at the sheer creative daring of the Lord, as he fashions out incredibly a way of full salvation for humanity which satisfies at once the dictates of his righteousness and love.

Whatever else you choose to do to mark this festive season, don't take the lazy option and descend to doing some 'ditto' sort of thing.

What did we do last year? Let's just do ditto again.

What have our neighbours decided to do? Let's just do ditto ourselves.

What does everyone else always do? Let's just do ditto ourselves.

Celebrate the brilliant creativity of God! Celebrate the bold, expansive goodness of this God who finds solutions and is glad to pay the price!

Set the trends, instead of simply following suit.

Dare to ditch the ditto.

impending death

There have been a series of deaths in recent days.

And a series of funeral services coming up, of course - along with a series of services, talks and assemblies in both of the schools. The next two weeks will be full to overflowing - I'm trusting God's grace will be just the same!

Many faithful stalwarts in our congregation's life are getting on in years. The shadow of death inevitably looms quite large across the frontiers of our congregation's life.

These elderly folk are the visible reminders to us all of the former generations, the ones who've gone before us, and whose labour we are privileged to enter now and share. We really want to honour them, by building on the work they've done.

It's hard getting old. When your future is largely behind you, regrets and fears can subtly sort of infiltrate the soul.

With your living mainly done, you start to think you maybe didn't really do enough: you think of what you might have done and could have done and maybe even should have done.

But now, of course, you can't. The time and opportunity is gone.

You wonder what your dying will be like. You wonder just what happens when a corpse is all that's left. You wonder what awaits you at the judgment seat of God.

These are now no longer merely academic questions. These are where an ageing person's at.

What will our dying be like? The New Testament chooses not to say that Christians die: instead, we're told, we sleep. That's what it's like. A child going to sleep in her mother's or father's arms. Comforted, warm, and secure.

And we sleep with the prospect of waking refreshed, renewed, restored, a whole new day awaiting us, a day that's bright and clear and pulsing with adventure.

What happens when we die? A corpse, indeed, is all that's left - at least to human sight. There's been a separation. We are body and spirit together. That, from the start, has been the essence of humanity. God joined the two together, body and spirit, breathing life (spirit) into the dust of the earth.

So death does what we're told should not be done. Death separates what God has joined together. God is committed to remedying that. Resurrection (the joining together again of body and spirit) has been guaranteed. God will have the final word.

But before that day of resurrection comes, when at last we're clothed again with all those bodily senses which enable us to taste and see and hear and smell and touch (and thus enjoy to the full and revel in) the splendours and the beauty of God's handiwork - before that day we nonetheless are able to enjoy being in the presence of our Saviour God.

We depart this life and go to be with Christ. Which is far better.

We know something of this in our present experience on earth. There are times when we know God's presence, times when we're touched by his love, times when we sense his hand upon our lives. Such times as these transcend our physical senses. They're in a different realm. They're somehow beyond the body.

That knowledge of his presence, that awareness of his love, that sense of his kind hand upon his child - that's all part of the 'far better' thing which the Scriptures assure us is ours when as Christians we die.

What awaits us at the judgment seat of Christ? This can be a worry, even a fear. But it needn't be, and it's not meant to be. The gospel is clear and emphatic.

There is, therefore, now no condemnation for those that are in Christ Jesus.

Are you in Christ Jesus? Is your life wrapped up in his? Have you entrusted your life to him?

If so, then there is, as of now (and indeed as of long, long ago), no condemnation. None at all.

It's all been dealt with. All the doing has already been done. By Jesus. For you.

That's what makes it good news. For the Christian at any rate. And that's the key issue always. Is a person 'in Christ'? Are you 'in Christ'? That's the crucial transaction. That's the one thing you and I are to do.

What must we do to do the works God requires? Jesus was once asked. His reply was simple - "The work of God is this: to believe in the One he has sent."

Period.

Everything else has been done by him.

These are the things that we all need clear and settled in our hearts and minds. The ageing not least, but young and old alike.

Because death is coming to us all - and none of us can ever tell just when.

changing seasons

There's probably no ideal age to be.

I've always concluded that my 'optimum' years would be when I was 45-55. Optimum because my physical vitality and spiritual maturity would be in their best balance.

Before 45 I might be strong on ideals and energy, but (by definition) I'd be lacking in experience and the sort of wisdom which is tied in closely to that experience.

After 55 my physical condition would be deteriorating, for all that my spiritual maturity would more and more (one would hope) be coming into its own.

Realistically, with the best will in the world, I'd have to recognise that after the age of 55 my energy levels would be less, I'd tire more easily, I wouldn't be able to do quite as much as once I did.

Translated into the way I live my life, I long since realised that the emphases would inevitably have to change. I'd be less and less fit for the physically demanding and more and more able for the spiritually demanding.

I'd have to learn to pace myself better, and I'd have to learn to prioritise slightly differently.

Of course, when you're in that 45-55 age bracket, while you may be at your peak in terms of that balance between your physicaly energy and spiritual maturity, you're probably also having to cope with the greatest demands.

For those in work, in that ten year span of their lives, they're often holding down extremely responsible positions, working long hours, and facing enormous pressures.

For those who are married with family, their children are now often at an age when the demands on time, finance, energy and the heart, are invariably huge and exhausting.

Cash is constantly needed, a taxi service is regularly required, sometimes at unearthly hours of the morning or the night, difficult, direction-setting decisions are having to be made, and the strains inherent in that age when your offspring is neither entirely a child nor entirely yet an adult can stretch the heart to breaking point.

Very often, too, the demands of caring for ageing parents begin to kick in as well. Sometimes there's travel involved, sometimes some practical help: sometimes support and encouragement, sometimes advice and the need for the power of attorney.

If you haven't learned to 'juggle' by the time you've reached that age, you often have to learn to do so then. Quickly. It can often feel like a hundred and one different plates which you're trying your best to keep spinning.

Maybe it's just as well that a person is at their peak at that time of life. Most times, they need to be, to cope with what that time of life will often bring!

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." So says the so-called 'Teacher'. And, it's this which at least in part I think he means.

There are these different seasons in our lives. We need to learn to recognise just where we're at, and what particular 'activity' this present 'season' demands.

I'm not 18 any more - despite that being the way I most times think of myself. Forty years on from that (not quite, but roughly), I'm into a very different 'season' in my life. The activities to which I give myself are bound, therefore, to be different.

The priorities in the ministry I seek to exercise are bound to be different too. I'm getting beyond that time when the balance has been at its best between the physical vitality and the spiritual maturity. I have to adjust. I have to be clear as to just what it is that this new, incoming 'season' best fits me for. And concentrate on that.

There isn't an 'ideal' age to be as such. The age and the stage we're at, the 'season' we are in, is simply 'ideal' for certain sorts of activity. Our truest wisdom lies in being able to see just what those activities are and then giving ourselves to them.

true grit

We had the P7s here from the local school this morning. The bulk of the morning anyway.

All 76 of them, plus their teachers, plus some 'crowd-control' helpers the teachers had brought along too. Not that you'd have guessed there were that many children along, they were that well behaved and engaged with the whole thing so well.

We work through something of what Christmas is really about with them all. In some ways the whole thing gets boiled right down to the five simple pictures they have in the centre-page spread of the work-books we give to them all.

Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem to register.

There's no room at the inn for them when the baby Jesus is born.

Shepherds out on the fields around Bethlehem are the first to hear the news.

In response to the angelic message, they come to see for themselves.

Wise men from a distant land also come to bring their gifts to the new King who's been born.

The children seemed to enjoy it all. The teachers certainly did: they had a demanding morning undergoing a customer-research, coffee-sampling exercise, which they're prepared to do again come Easter time!

We pray that the message gets home. Christmas isn't complicated. Remove the 'fluff' and it's a simple, stunning message of the most audacious thing God ever set in motion.

And we can get to be part of the action, too!

A quick tidy-up once they're gone, then off to the school myself - this time for the last Scripture Union group of the term.

Our usual venue has been taken. It's being used by the staff for their annual Christmas lunch today. It's getting to be a tough day for these P7 teachers. Coffee all morning, then a Christmas lunch!

We find another venue, in the computer room. The children are loud and boisterous once again - they generally are over lunch, it's a chance for them all to be letting off steam. But they seem to enjoy the time and they keep coming back for more.

Today I'm trying to help them put Jesus on the map of all their lives. They need to know the basic facts.

Where was he born? Where did Jesus grow up?

Real places on the real map of the world in which they live, close to places like Turkey and Cyprus where some have been on holiday.

Bethlehem, Nazareth, Jerusalem: these are all real places. Places you can visit still today.

Jesus is for real. It's not a made up story.

The afternoon is different.

Real people again, coping with the sometimes harsh realities of this very real and in-urgent-need-of-major-repair contemporary world.

Only a Jesus who's definitely for real is going to be any good.

Made-up stories are no use at all for folk like this who are coping with illness and death and bereavement, and with breakdowns of health or the break-up of homes, the disruption of family life.

I'm walking back home later on and a car is skidding all over the place. Stuck in a rut, and unable to move either forward or back.

I stop to give the lady a hand. In part it's a case of instruction - explaining how to handle the car and what I need her to do: and in part it's a case of a hands-on approach as I give her the push which she needs (well, not her so much as her car, you'll undestand!).

It's another little cameo, portraying what the gospel is about. Our world is now skidding all over the place. People are stuck in a rut. They feel they're not going anywhere, and all their best efforts are only making it worse.

Jesus comes to rescue us. A real Jesus. Who knows his stuff, because he's been here himself and he knows the course well. And who's able to get us moving once again, and going somewhere purposeful in life.

I spend my life explaining gospel principles: and then, when it comes to applying those basic principles, I'm seeking, too, to help the folk I'm pastoring to work them through and work them out, and thus to help them get back on the highway of God's purpose for their lives.

True grit, I guess.

a stitch in time

Another full day, shortened by the fact that I had a visit to the dentist in the morning.

That involved a 3/4 hour hike through the snow, across the hill, to get there, a full 3/4 hour there (not all of it in the dentist's chair - well, it was, I suppose if you include in that phrase the waiting room chairs), and then a 3/4 hour hike all the way back.

Maths isn't my strong point, but that works out at over 2 hours of the morning removed from the frame. Not that it's wasted time. A stitch in time saves nine, and a filling in time saves a lot of hassle later (hopefully).

The dentist gave me an injection to numb that part of the mouth, though he needn't really have bothered - not because I'm a big brave lad, but more because my mouth was numb already from the cold. It was freezing! Beautiful to look at, but absolutely freezing. Probably about -14 or so again.

I think my mouth started to thaw out at some point through the afternoon. Certainly a good while after the lunchtime service, where the attendance was up on last week, but still (because of the weather) noticeably small.

Then there's been the session we're having with the Primary 7s tomorrow to be prepared for. The thing's been a bit on hold, until we knew for sure that it was going ahead. But the school confirmed today that it's definitely going ahead.

We've done this now for a year or two at Christmas and Easter. The whole P7 year group come round to the halls (with their teachers and one or two helpers), and we work through a two hour, inter-active presentation with them on the theme of Christmas (or Easter, obviously, at the second event).

It's a fun time, when hopefully at least something of what Christmas is all about comes across to the children. A case of trying to separate the 'bubblegum' from the 'fluff', if you can see the force of that illustration.

It's when we're young that the message ideally is heard and embraced. The older we get and the more set in our ways we become, the harder it is to embrace the good news of Jesus. So we want to try and disentangle all the strands of Christmas in such a way that they're able to see very clearly what it's all about.

It makes life a whole lot less complicated later on. A stitch in time sort of thing again.

We put our work among the children growing up within the community here right up there at the top of our priorities.

Not because other things (and other people) don't matter as much (they do), but partly because the opportunities today for work among the young are fewer and farther between than once they used to be and need to be grasped when they're there.

And also because the one stitch now is going to avoid the nine (and often significantly more) metaphorical stitches later on.

picture postcard

Picture postcard stuff indeed!

But who wants to live in a postcard?

On the plus side, I'm a good deal fitter, I'm sure, for my walking wherever I'm going instead of taking the car. The down side - I can't get to see so many folk.

On the plus side again - it ensures a slower pace of life, a better sort of rhythm to the tasks I need to do. The down-side - it makes the day a bit longer, since the tasks all still need to be done!

The freezing feel of Narnia has crept across our horizons. Literally - and perhaps spiritually as well in our land. "Always winter but never Christmas."

Who knows but the wicked witch has been at her work again in our land.

We're needing our Aslan to come once again. Remember that great line in C S Lewis' book, 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' -

"Aslan is on the move. The witch’s magic is weakening.”

The melting snow is how C S Lewis describes his own conversion. This is how he puts it in 'Surprised by Joy' -

“I felt as if I were a man of snow at long last beginning to melt. The melting was starting in my back — drip-drip and presently trickle-trickle. I rather disliked the feeling."

May there be many for whom the snows begin to melt, and the cold chill of winter slackens its grip on their lives, through the course of these next few weeks.

light in the darkness

Shovelling snow is something I think I could now do in my sleep!

A lot more of that today, with another morning's worth of steady snow, leaving a further thick-piled carpet over all the paths and ground.

We had a long-wheel base van stuck in the car park and sliding in such a way that it completely blocked the entrance to the car park. A challenge to dig and shovel that one out, but we managed in the end - wth the help of two of the doctors from the local surgery who were out themselves to shovel some snow since there was a distinct lack of patients.

You can tell, though, that folk are getting just a little bit weary of yet more snow. Sound travels further when the snow's on the ground - which meant that I overheard a driver up on the main road (where traffic was crawling at best) regaling another fellow driver with a three-word rebuke, "You xxxxx idiot!"

Frustration and tiredness as much as anger or blame was the root of such remarks, I suspect (and it wasn't the only remark like that which I overheard today!).

It's cold, it's dark, and it's getting increasingly depressing for a lot of folk. So the reading today from 'biblefresh' was more than apt.

'Biblefresh' is "a movement of churches, agencies, colleges and festivals seeking to encourage and inspire churches across the UK to a greater confidence and appetite for the Word of God,[whose] vision is to make 2011 a year of the Bible to help individuals and the whole church gain greater skill in handling the scriptures and a greater passion for hearing and obeying the Bible."

We've signed up to it.

I'm using through these days a series of biblefresh 'Advent Reflections' which, according to the covering note, "are based on material from WordLive, Scripture Union's free, daily, multimedia guide available at http://www.wordlive.org/" (https://www.scriptureunion.org.uk/89157.id).

Today's passage is Isaiah 9.2-7

Reflect: God raised Isaiah's vision to the future hope that would one day be fulfilled in Jesus. Even though Isaiah couldn't have known how or when God would do it, he sees clearly theh birth of a baby - the one who would be called 'Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.' In a dark world, God's light shines in Jesus.

Pray: for opportunities today to share his light.

Well, there have been opportunities all right to share his light - in all sorts of practical ways.

For all those who, for a whole variety of reasons, feel like they are people walking in darkness, may that great light, the light of God's presence and love, shine upon them and open up for them a future bright with hope and possibilities

walking

A while back I was given, and read, a 300+-page book on .. walking.

It's called Wanderlust: a history of walking by a woman called Rebecca Solnit.

I wondered, to start with, whether there really was enough to the whole simple business of walking to warrant a book that long. But I soon discovered there is.

One of the points which the author was careful to make is that our brains function best when we're moving along at walking pace. Sitting at a desk may be fine for all sorts of things, but that static condition is not as good as the steady, rhythmic movement of a walk.

We often talk of getting up from our desk and taking a stroll to 'clear our heads'. Why? Because the movement and pace of the walk is strangely conducive to helping us think at our best. We seem to be made, in other words, to be those who think on our feet.

I've been walking a lot today. The snow on the ground has confined the car this week to the role of some snow-clad, ornamental statue in the driveway. I've been hoofing it here there and everywhere.

Over the hill to Murrayfield this afternoon, to a nursing home there and a visit with a lady there whose husband had just died the day before.

Throughout their 57 years of married life they've been a devout and godly couple, devoted to one another, and together devoted to the service of the Lord.

Theirs was a marriage the way it's meant to be. Openly God-honouring in the worship which they offered him together every day. Manifestly Christ-glorifying in the way they sought to show both Jesus' Lordship and his servanthood in how they lived their life. And constantly grace-imparting to a multitude of different folk with whom their paths would cross.

They've been together a huge support to me across the years, and a ceaseless source of faithful prayer, encouragement and strength. To countless others as well.

It's a bit of a hike across the hill to the nursing home, but more than worth the effort. It was good to see her and to talk with her for a while.

The Lord was very present. He's good and kind and gentle, easing himself, in a way that's not intrusive, into sorrows such as these and becoming himself the balm that grieving people need.

"You will be taking the service, won't you?" she kept on asking. Her short-term memory now is far from good. It mattered to her that I would be leading that worship. She needed the re-assurance.

Down the years it's meant so much to me to know that they were always there and always so committed to supporting me in prayer. It was humbling to hear her concern that I would be there for her and for her family in this sore time of sorrow. Of course I would be there.

* * *

At night I was hiking my way out west this time, to the outskirts of the city and a home on a hill in Cammo. A meeting arranged some time back with a group of folk, which ended up just myself and the man whose home and hospitality I was able to enjoy on my own!

A profitable time, nonetheless, as iron sharpened iron in our thinking about next year. 2011 marks the 400th anniversary of the King James (or 'Authorised') Version of the Bible. Loads of churches are marking the year with a thing called Biblefresh. We were giving some thought as to how we might be marking it ourselves. I find it exciting and full of enormous potential. But more on that another time.

And then, of course, the same hike back. It was that which made me realise how helpful all my walking through the day had been. My brain ticking over at optimum speed. A lot of good time for clear thinking and none of the barrage of telephone calls to interrupt my line of thought.

And the chance, on occasion, to stop and to chat with some folk.

There's a lot to be said for our walking. Enough to write a whole book!

the narrow path

Narrow is the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.

Today provided a graphic illustration of just that - at least when it came to the regular lunch-time service.

There was a path (hardly a 'road') through the thick-lying snow. And it was narrow. And only a few 'found' it.

There were six of us there at the service today. Five if you exclude myself as the one conducting the worship and preaching. Four if you exclude the pianist who'd rung to check whether the service would actually be on.

One of the four expressed her gratitude afterwards - "Thank you for treating us as if we were a large congregation!"

The singing was lusty, and largely in tune (no thanks to me!). The prayers were the more direct and specific, given our common awareness of people not there and the reasons for that. And there wasn't any skimping on the reading and expounding of the Scriptures.

The road is narrow that leads to life, and those who find it are few.

It was Jesus who said it. And he plainly meant it.

That 'narrowness' lies at the heart of our discipleship. Whatever may be the merits of a so-called 'broad' church, it certanly doesn't mean that there's a breadth to the canvas of credal, confessional faith.

We can't just believe what we want. There's an uncomfortable 'narrowness' to the truths of the gospel from which we're not able to wriggle free at all.

God is our Maker, holy and sovereign and good.

We are rebels, sinful, tainted and destined for hell.

Jesus is the very Son of God, our only Saviour.

Audaciously entering this tarnished world, and living out, as fully man, a life of matchless obedience, he suffered in our place and bore (to the point of exhaustion) the rightful wrath of that holy, loving God.

His being raised from the dead confirmed that his work was completed, authorised him to pour out his Holy Spirit on his people, demonstrated that he is the one who will judge us all at the last, and guaranteed that all who have trusted in him shall share one day in that resurrection to eternal life.

His return is awaited. Be warned. Be prepared. Believe.

The gospel declares such non-negotiable truth. It is uncomfortably 'narrow'.

And it's not just what we believe that is marked by this challenging 'narrowness'. it's how we behave as well.

Discipleship is a way of life. His way. According to his word.

Which doesn't sit comfortably with the standards and values and lifestyles of the God-disowning country where we live.

A nation which prides itself increasingly on being so 'broad-minded' that it tolerates, encourages, and wants to applaud just about anything and everything in terms of a so-called 'liberal' (a complete misnomer since it's actually enslaving rather than liberating) outlook on life and living.

Following Jesus involves our deliberately taking that 'narrow' path.

The 'wide' gate, and the 'broad' path, which we seem constantly to be being encouraged to choose, is a literal dead end.

Its comfortable 'room for manoeuvre', and its very attractive 'freedom' to believe what you want and behave as you like, hides the destination. It leads only to destruction.

Jesus said it, not me.

The sooner we get back to a proper understanding of this radical discipleship the better it will be.

You don't want the fountain of life freezing over!

Messiah and the mall

We're made to be creative. Like God himself.

Christmas is God at his creative best. 'Dropping in' on the world, to the surprise, consternation and delight (depending on who you were) of the multitudes.

Brilliant. Audacious. Breath-taking. Life-changing. Turning a corner in history.

How 'creative' can we be in a manner reflective of God?

Well, how about this. Back on the 13th November this year a whole crowd of unsuspecting shoppers got a big surprise while enjoying their lunch. 'Christmas' kind of happened all over again. (Click on the picture to view it)

There were over 100 participants in this 'Christmas Flash Mob', using their combined creative talents (and a good deal of Spirit-given courage, since they risked occasioning offence, ridicule and possibly [who knows these days] the sanctions of the law), to sound out that glorious good news of Jesus all over again!

Isn't this what we're called to be and do as Christians?

gospel ministry

Like most of the country, a thick carpet of snow covers all our ground.

We have a lot of ground, including a sizeable car park, which slopes up and away from the hall. Drainage, accordingly, is not generally a problem.

But the downside comes when there's snow or ice. Park at the top of the slope (if you manage to get your car there) and there's a chance that your parked car will slide back down the slope of its own volition.

Having a huge big car park is great. But it's a lot to clear when there's been a heavy fall of snow. And since the doctors' surgery is right beside us and patients use the car park when they go there, we can't exactly leave it untended - a miry pit from which there's no way out.

I was out shovelling snow the larger part of the morning. I thought I'd make a start before the snow had got trampled down, so it was a half past seven start. And that was me 'til after 11am!

Mainly because every time I thought I'd call it a day someone else got stuck and I had to go and dig them out.

It seemed to me a graphic illustration of the essence of the work to which I'm called as a preacher of the gospel. Digging people out and setting them on the road again.

Psalm 40 puts it in that sort of way. "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire (read 'snow and ice'): he set my feet upon a rock and gave me a firm place to stand."

That's what the Lord does, in and through the gospel. Digging people out seemed like a graphic illustration.

At the other end of the day, another illustration. I'd called by a couple to see if they needed provisions. While there, the lady of the house fell. It was just as well that I was there as she might have remained on the floor for a good long time otherwise!

As it was, we got her on her feet again, and all was safe and well. As I say, another illustration of the work of gospel ministry. Getting people back on their feet again.

We are a 'fallen' (and often 'falling') people. Jesus puts us on our feet again. Psalm 40 again - "he set my feet upon a rock, establishing my way"

Like clearing the snow and digging folk out of the slippery rut into which they've slid; like helping folk who have fallen back onto their feet again, the work of gospel ministry is hard and uses muscles you didn't know you had.

But there's more than a little satisfaction at the end result!

Jonah

You'll know the story of Jonah, I'm sure.

But the 8 minutes you'll need to hear it re-told by a child will not be wasted time! (Click on the picture to view it). One of our older members e-mailed this in - The story of Jonah like you've never heard it before, and probably never will again.

pastors

Talk about 'meeting together'!

Having underlined yesterday the importance of meeting together, I find today is a long succession of meeting with different people. It's a steady, seamless stream of people, all by arrangement, mainly here, but I'm 'off-site' and out and about as well.

Conferring with a range of different leaders across a very varied spectrum of the church's life: and working through with other folk I'm meeting with some painful pastoral issues.

It takes me from the morning through to meal-time at the end of the afternoon. And then there's also a meeting at night with the leaders here, addressing the next year's budget.

One of the folk I've been seeing today highlights the value of taking some time 'apart'. Simply getting away for a day from time to time. Pastors need that space, he says.

He gives me a leaflet along these lines. The leaflet has a number of intersting quotes -

"Pastoral ministry is deeply rewarding and an immense privilege. [I couldn't agree more. It is a huge privilege, sharing with so many people in spheres that are essentially such 'holy ground'. And yes, it's wonderfully rewarding, too - not least in seeing the Lord at work, effecting change, and bringing gneuine healing].

"But the role brings with it particular vulnerabilities and peculiar pressures. The Gospel may be unbreakable treasure but the messengers of the Good News are positively fragile."

They have to be. They have to be utterly sensitive. Sensitive to the Lord, to what he's saying and doing in a person's life. Sensitive to the person they're with, to the needs and the feelings that person has, and to what's being said in what is not being said.

That sensitivity, though, does make a pastor vulnerable. He feels the weight of others' cares as though they were his own. He feels the hurts that others know as if they were his own.

And because his skin is never thick (he can't afford such calluses to grow across his heart), he often struggles inwardly with an aching sense of failure and most times feels acutely any criticism made.

The leaflet quotes from C H Spurgeon, a preacher from a by-gone generation, whom I always have admired -

"It would be a dreadful thing to be a pastor without cares ... but some are overloaded with cares and overweighted with sorrows."

I remember my grandmother speaking about Spurgeon (their lives over-lapped). He was a remarkable man, an astonishingly eloquent preacher in the Baptist Church, occupying, with his sizeable frame, the Metropolitan Tabernacle pulpit in London for many long years, and drawing vast crowds of people every week.

The pastoral ministry consequent on that was huge. The Word of God, expounded by a man anointed by the Spirit of the Lord, simply ploughs the ground of human hearts and brings all sorts of things right up to the surface. Things which need to be addressed, worked through.

Pastoral ministry, properly understood, is the personal application of the Word that's being expounded. Given there were thousands every week attending that worship in London, Spurgeon had a lot of that to do.

Outwardly you'd have thought he had it all together. But the struggles he had in himself you'd hardly believe. Lifelong, massive struggles, in a number of different areas of his life.

Overloaded with cares and overweighted with sorrows.

The man spoke (or wrote, since the quote is from the book, 'An all round ministry') from very real personal experience.

But then, that's pretty much what the great apostle Paul was saying, too, when he spoke about the trials and afflictions he'd endured.

He wrote that "the God of all comfort .. comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation: if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurancec of the same sufferings we suffer." [2 Cor.1.4-6]

He's saying, in a sense, that pastoral ministry involves a great amount of empathy. There's a sense in which the pastor has had to have been there, known that, and got, not the T-shirt, but the scars and wounds to prove it.

Pray for your pastor! He's not some thick-skinned superman. He carries the cares and the burdens of those for whom he cares as though they were his own. He feels for his people. He aches for his people. He yearns for his people.

And the pain of that yearning is great and intense and ongoing.

meeting together

An important part of surviving in the jungle of our secular world is our meeting together.

"Let us not give up meeting together ..."

It can be tempting, for all sorts of reasons, to skip the meeting together. We're busy people, after all. Time is at a premium.

But this meeting together is part of the basic survival package which the Lord gives to us. Because hand in hand with the call to meet together is the urgent exhortation to encourage one another. The two belong together.

There's the Sunday meeting together. That's why and how the 'day of rest' was first defined. Not just downing tools and quitting the work side of things for a day: but actively meeting together.

"A day of sacred assembly," as the good book puts it.

We meet for together every single Sunday. It's meant to be a priority (not all can make it each week, of course, for different reasons: and some can't make it at all - but that doesn't alter at all the fact that it's to be a high priority).

Our survival, remember, depends, at least in part, on this meeting together - and the encouragement that brings. Which is why we try and make it very clear that the time over coffee and tea at the end is just as integral a part of it all as the slightly more formal 'act of worship' itself.

The chance to engage with each other - to meet together, rather than simply sitting beside each other.

I was up in Aberdeenshire last night, for an evening service there. Howe Trinity Parish Church host an annual Songs of Praise, which draws in folk from neighbouring congregations. An expanded version of this meeting together.

And a time of real encouragement. There was a good-sized congregation and a vibrant spirit of worship. And the Lord himself was present in our midst.

Today has been much the same. Meeting together with different folk.

Meeting with people this morning. With the set intent of affording each other encouragement. They need it. I need it. It doesn't come any other way than by meeting like this together. It's how we survive. As important as that.

Through to Glasgow this afternoon, to meet with others who've gathered from all over the country. We don't really meet to decide that much. But as one of the men there says - it's the meeting together which helps. There's encouragement in that.

Tonight there's our regular monthly time of prayer (well, it's not as regular as it might be, I guess, since it's not always the same night of the week).

This, too, is our meeting together. And this, too, is for our encouragement.

Clive Parnell is here tonight, sharing something of the work in which he's involved with UCCF.

He reminds us that committed Christians comprise perhaps something like 2% of the student world. He draws some helpful contrasts with the way things are now as compared to maybe 20 or 30 years ago.

More students, less care. More stress, less cash. More mess, less maturity. More ignorance of the Bible, less confidence in the gospel. More plurality, less tolerance.

A whole series of contrasts. It's a very different student world today. It's good to hear of what's going on. Encouraging.

The Scriptures stress this meeting together. Our society today can sometimes make it hard.

Neighbours often don't really know each other at all. The garden fence, over which neighbours of a former generation often talked, has become a high-level hedge or even a wall. A barrier and a boundary, the opposite of any sort of meeting together.

The common green's been replaced by individual lawns. Families barely see each other: there's a TV in everyone's room. Even the pub's been largely superceded by the virtual world technology has somehow engineered.

It's harder now than it used to be. But certainly just as important.

Let us not give up meeting together! Our survival depends on it.