learning by mistakes

This was a hit-the-new-week-running sort of day.

An early start and then straight into production of the magazine.

We changed the whole format of our congregational magazine a couple of years ago. We recognised that coming out only a few times a year the role it best fulfilled was that of giving a colourful snapshot of our congregation's life.

A little glimpse of what we're about for those who maybe are pretty much peripheral.

It's a full colour, brightly produced, easy to read magazine.

And by leasing a marginally smarter printer we're able to produce the thing ourselves. And save ourselves thousands of pounds in the process.

It's a pretty straightforward process. Essentially a number of buttons to press. And a good deal of patience, since the machine produces the magazine at the rate of maybe one every two minutes.

And we need about 600 of the magazines.

Mind you, when I say the machine is smart, I mean it's really smart. It produces the thing completely. Printed, folded, stapled. The lot.

It's smart. So we don't begrudge it the time it takes to produce these complete magazines.

Every so often you have to go and remove the pile of magazines that it's produced. And every so often - less frequently - you have to refill the paper tray.

But other than that you just sit back and watch it happen. Or get on with some other work.

One of the men came down about midday to take over the sort of 'maintenance' tasks which freed me up a bit. And all went fine until one of the toner cartridges ran out.

We'd not been good 'Scouts' and were caught unprepared for that. So we had to stop mid-afternoon and wait for another cartiridge to arrive.

We'll know next time. This was the first full time we've done it all 'in-house'. We learn by our mistakes.

A lot of the time has been spent at my desk today. And a fair bit of that's had me corresponding.

Mainly by e-mail. There's masses of e-mail, of course. Most of it's easily dealt with (and I don't mean just by 'Delete'!).

But sometimes replying takes time. There have been a number of vexing and difficult pastoral needs which I've sought to address today.

There's an immediacy about e-mail which is great. It enables those who maybe are not able to be meeting me in person to be talking through their problems in the knowledge that they'll not be hanging on for half a month before receiving a reply.

And there's a degree of 'intimacy' too. Sometimes it's just that little bit easier to say the things that need to be expressed without being literally face to face.

So quite a bit of pastoral work is done by means of e-mail. And those sort of e-mails take time. A lot of time. And a lot of care. And a lot of prayer as well.

I was fixing up a wedding, too, at night. A young couple, who first got to know each other through SU camps - and have grown in their friendship down the years.

It's great when I know the folk I'm going to be marrying. But I also feel the responsibility always, too. I'm preparing a couple not just for a day but for a life they'll live together. So there's loads to work through in the coming months. I'll look forward to seeing them again.

I couldn't spend all that long with them both tonight. I was off out to join all the folk who now meet for a time of Bible study on a regular sort of basis.

An interesting time all right! We ended up thinking about how to handle tensions, conflict situations, which invariably arise. We didn't quite come to blows ourselves, but there was some lively discussion.

The issue's always a real one. Life lived in community is always fraught with tensions and disputes. So we have to learn to handle these aright.

The Scriptures have this amazing knack of hitting the nail on the head.

I found it helpful - even if none of the others did!

As with printing off the magazine, so with most things that we have to face in life. We generally learn by all the mistakes that we make.

Which, at least in part, is what I think is meant by grace.

You don't get scorned because you get things wrong. Which is just as well.

privilege

Privilege. Yes, it's very much a privilege, a lot of what we do.

I was thinking that again today, when at various differents points throughout the day I was struck by all the many opportunities there are to shape a growing generation.

I'd been along at the school first thing. The first of the school assemblies in 2009. P4-7.

Again, it's the Head who does the talking. In the main. HIs value this month is 'happiness' and he gets the children thinking about what happiness really is. Where and how it's found.

He has some interesting statistics. Back in the 1950s, right after the war, a sample survey revealed that 56% of the population said that they were really happy. A year or two back they did the same thing and the results were markedly different. Only 36% (or something like that) would call themselves happy now.

Money can't buy you happiness. In fact, all the things that we have maybe get in the way of actually knowing that sort of contentment which a former generation seemed to know.

I was back from that in time for the time of prayer. Except that got delayed.

There are a number of ante-natal classes which we host here in the halls, and the lady who was running the one today had forgotten just how to get the technology working. So we sorted that out before we got down to prayer.

But in our praying today we were praying for the children still unborn, still in the wombs of those who were coming to these classes. We prayed that God himself would guard and keep them all and fashion in their lives the knowledge of himself and lives that would be fruitful in his cause.

I found it exciting and striking to think we were privileged to pray for these little children.

And, of course, they grow up. A lot of the Mums start coming about the place and meet here for their lunch once the children are born. One of the Mums today had brought her sister and brother and a friend along as well. She's enthused about the place so much to them she said they had to come along!

It's great when that happens!

I think we help to shape these growing children, too. Perhaps their parents as well. Through the quiet, unseen influence of just the way we are. The service that is given, the love that's shown, the sense of fun and peace there is about the place.

It rubs off on them all. Or at least we like to think it does.

Even the fountain outside plays its part. The children sort of gravitate to that. It's a focus of attention. And a symbol of the flowing life we know.

I've been working a fair bit today in preparation for an all-day conference that's taking place here on this coming Saturday.

It's a Scripture Union Team Leaders' Conference, a sort of 'pick-me-up' type of thing to encourage, enthuse and inspire the many different leaders who will be involved throughout this coming year in SU's work - not least those people who'll be leading all the many camps that SU run.

Scripture Union is a wonderful organisation and the work they do among children throughout the land is massive. It's a privilege to be a part of that. And, for me, a huge and lovely privilege to have been asked to give the Bible teaching at this conference.

So I've been hard at the preparation for that today. And made some progress at last.

I'm struck by the long-term nature of it all.

I speak with these leaders and hopefully fill their horizons with a sense of what God can do. They're inspired, enthused and excited (I hope). They go off and through the course of the coming months they teach who knows how many children about the life that Jesus gives.

And who knows how many youngsters will have their lives transformed? And who knows just what impact some of them will grow to have upon the nation as a whole and maybe even right throughout the world?

You can see why I think it's a privilege, so much of what we do!

Exciting and humbling.

tapestry

My life is like a tapestry. And today's been a good illustration of what I mean.

Here it is in brief.

Preparing the halls. Our beadle's off work at the present, so we all get involved in doing what needs to be done. There are tables to be shifted and a floor to be swept. I get the basics done and I'll wait for further instructions 'til the girls come in.

Admin. There are a load of e-mails which have come in overnight. I start to catch up on them. Not just a case of replying, but sometimes one thing leads to another and it all takes time! First thing in the morning, before anyone else is in, is usually a good time to get these things all done.

Prayer. Before I know it, it's 9.40am and our regular 'prayer time'. There's only Kathleen around, but others elsewhere will be joining us too. It's good to have this time and to be able to commit the day to the Lord. Yesterday was a great first day back for the Reception Area. We pray today will be the same.

Setting out the hall. Kathleen advises me how she'd like the hall set out for lunch. There are a few tables to be brought across from the other hall, so I get stuck into that.

A visitor. I'm barely started setting out the hall when in comes a guy who pastors a church in Amsterdam. His father's one of the elders here and has been in hospital for surgery. So John's across for a couople of days to see his Dad.

Coffee. Any excuse will do! But it's not every day that John's around. So it's good to be able to start to catch up on his news. He's been there in Amsterdam about the time that I've been here. It's great to compare notes. He's always really encouraging.

More coffee. Nigel comes in with Craig, his youngest son. He joins the party. Which soon expands yet more as John's Mum and Dad come in - they've been at the doctor's across the lane.

School. Nigel and Ailsa, along with their three boys, are here in their summer holidays - all the way from New Zealand, where they went in response to the call of God some three years back. This is the first time they've all been back since then and the boys have been keen to go back to school. See their old friends.

So I'd said I'd take Craig round to the primary school. Ailsa's involved with the young women here this morning and Nigel's committed elsewhere. Craig and I walk round to the school. He's a lovely lad - like his brothers, always polite, but, equally, full of chat. He's looking forward, I think, to seeing his friends again.

His friends at the school are over the moon to see him back again. There's instant recognition and they slot in with each other right away. I do the introductions with the teachers, some of whom don't know the family. Then I leave him to it. Ailsa should be back round to the school later on to pick him up. I take the risk she'll remember and leave Craig there.

Visitor. One of the leaders here had rung first thing to ask if he could pop in and see me about a number of things. He heads up one of our Ministry Areas and it's always good to be able to touch base with him from time to time.

So I'm not long back before he's at the door. He's a busy man, so he's got his list of things he needs to chat about.

I find it great the way such folk as him, despite their busy lives, are glad to give themselves so fully to so many different matters where their wisdom and their energies can count.

It helps to talk things through, to get things clear, to be able to see things progressed. I find in the midst of a busy day that folk like that are always a real encouragement.

Lunch follows. It's a snatched and rather hasty lunch, but shared with others round the table as we talk through different issues which are pressing at this time.

There's a sense of our being involved in something big. Something that God is doing in our midst. It's not always easy and sometimes the pressure of time comes rushing in. But I wouldn't miss this for anything.

A meeting. Well, it's more a one-to-one sort of meeting. With another of the leaders. Arranged in advance, this one. It lasts slightly longer than I'd anticipated, but the time isn't wasted at all. We chat through a range of important matters which help us see the way ahead together.

We pray for each other, as well as for all of the work going on in this place, before we part.

Visiting. In the course of my meeting with him, I've learned of a sorrow a lady has known in the past few months. I decide to go now and to see her. It's strange - her name has been before me more than once these last two days, and now this leader that I've spoken with has mentioned her again and said perhaps a visit would be welcome.

I've learned to take such promptings as the leading of the Lord. And I've learned not to think of postponing a visit to some other time. It's like the Lord means now is the time to go.

I go.

She seems to value the fact I've called on her and values the chance to talk. There's sorrow, all right. Deep and profound and sore. She finds it hard to pray. Her neice had died. A lovely young woman in her forties. With two young girls.

They were very close, this lady and her neice. They spoke every week on the phone, despite this neice being half way round the world out in New Zealand. The void that there is since she died is desperately deep and dark.

So we chat for a while and I pray with her too. She's not been able to pray herself, so sore is the depth of her grief. God knows that better than any. And surely understands.

The shops. I call by the shop on my way back home. There are things to be bought for the tea. But because the shop is local, too, there are people I meet there as well. The shopping includes some chat. Snippets of conversation which are useful and help build relationship.

Kirkliston. It's off out at night to a meeting in what is now my 'other' church. The group who're tasked to look for the person whom God is raising up as their next minister - that group is meeting tonight.

I don't really have to be there, I suppose. Not technically, anyway, I think. But I want to be there to support and encourage. And to offer what guidance I can.

I'm not allowed to prejudice or influence their thinking in terms of the people they're now considering. But I can help to sharpen that thinking. I can help them to see it in context.

It's a good meeting. A bit longer than I had thought it would be. But good nonetheless.

They're super folk and they end with a time of prayer. It's uplifting to hear how many take their turn in praying out loud. I'd thought it might be only one or maybe two. But, no, they're almost queuing up!

I can't help but think that the Lord means really to bless this people in coming days. it's a good way to end the day.

Well, almost. There are one or two things that I have to do when I get back to the halls. Which includes locking up and closing things down for another day.

Another good day in the kingdom of God. They're none of them quite alike. None that I could ever speak as being a 'typical' sort of day.

God doesn't do the 'typical' at all.

threads

There's a programme sometimes on the TV called 'Comic Connections'. Or something like that.

It shows the connections there are across the years between different comedians, writers, producers: that sort of thing.

Yes, I know, it doesn't sound really riveting stuff. But it's interesting, nonetheless. Seeing the hidden connections.

And it's more than a little interesting to see those sorts of connections in the way God does his work.

Mostly you only ever see it all in hindsight. Not as it's going on.

Because most of the time it's spread out over years.

For instance. Today it was back to business with our lunches here. And being a Tuesday, it was my turn for the soups.

Always up for adventure, I decided to experiment. A different soup. One I hadn't made before.

Potato Soup. Well, that's what I said to start with. Then I soon began to realise this wasn't going down a bomb. The name, I mean. It sounded ... well, boring and bland, and not exactly what we're looking for.

I tried again. "I'ts 'Cream of Potato Soup," I said. As if that little epithet would somehow effect some major transformation.

They still were somewhat dubious. 'They' being the girls who run the whole affair.

"You'll just have to wait 'til it's ready and try it then. You'll see," I said, "it's tasty and good. I'm sure it is!"

Of course, I couldn't give a guarantee since I hadn't ever made the thing before. But I'd got the general notion from a man who lives behind me in one of the new houses up the hill.

I visit these homes round Christmas and Easter time each year. I knock on the doors and deliver a card. Seasonal greetings. That sort of thing. And I'm up for a chat, and sometimes they welcome me in.

This man usually does. So when I was round before Christmas last month, he welcomed me in once again. We got chatting about all sorts of things.

In the course of which it transpired that he makes a soup which all of his family love. I mean, really love. They insist that he make it. It's that good.

So being in the business of soup-making, too, I asked him just what it was. I didn't take down all the details but I got the general drift. And here today I thought I might as well start back with a bit of a bang and try making the soup myself.

Onions, potatoes and stock. Seasoned to taste. And then at the end a tub of Mascarpone. The man didn't say to do that: he just said 'cream cheese'. But I figured that this would do.

And it did. Turned out a treat.

Connections, you remember. A series of routine visits over the years. Getting to know the guy.

And here we are, a good few years on down the line, and the connection I've forged with this man bears its fruit. Well, a little bit of fruit.

There were other 'connections' as well today.

I've been in and out of the Royal High, the local secondary school, for more than twenty years. Most of the time just 'touching base', helping out with the different assemblies they have and there at the end of the year.

It's not much, I guess, in the whole grand scheme of things. But it's regular, a kind of slow and gentle 'drip .. drip .. drip' in terms of contact with the school.

But it meant today that the school was quick to turn to us to see if we could help. They've got the chance of hosting a striking presentation of the life of Eva Schloss, the step-sister of Anne Frank (of 'Diary' fame).

Not a chance they want to miss. But their hall's being used for exams. Could we help out?

It's exciting to think we'll maybe be hosting a thing like that for the school, which folk from the community woould be welcome at as well. (It's yet to be decided, but it's likely at this time).

The acting rector and the man who's doing the organising of it all came across in the afternoon to view the possible venue. They were most impressed and taken with it all. Even quite excited at the prospect. As we were too.

Connections again. It wouldn't have ever got this far without there being those threads and threads of contact down the years.

In some ways that's what all my time and all my days are really on about. Winding those threads together 'til they form a thick, strong net which draws folk in to Christ.

Funerals, too, are pretty much that sort of thing. No one event on its own ever impacts on a person's life to bring them to the Lord. Most times it's a whole long, varied series of events, a whole long time of warm, sustained relationships, which helps an individual to configure all their thinking once again and see at last why Jesus is so central to it all.

But funerals play their part in that, for sure.

Death always makes us stop and think a bit. Which is a major part of the battle.

So there's a sense in which there's a willingness to listen and to think throughout the service of thanksgiving that's being held.

I leave it up to the Lord, of course, as to what in fact gets through. I simply paint my pictures, as it were, in the hope that what I say about the person who has died will let folk know that no one knows us better than the Lord himself.

"You got her to a T!" I was told again today. Which is gratifying and somewhat re-assuring. But I hope folk see it isn't really me who 'got her to a T', it's more the Lord. I hope folk start to sense that ... well, they cannot hide from him. He sees and knows it all.

And loves us nonetheless.

Another guy came up to me at the end today and said, "There was an awful lot of work in that".

True. There always is. An awful lot.

But I live my life on the premise that as I work so God works too.

The great Creator God. Who takes all the chaos our lives reflect and remarkably brings some order to it all.

Which is just as well.

Because there's an awful lot of chaos in our lives as well!

And even on a day like this, where there's much that's excited and warmed our hearts, there's been as well an awful lot of time spent on the phone, addressing different issues where our tendencies to chaos have created vexing problems once again.

It would be great if life were simple!

But the trouble with working with all those threads is that often they end up knotted!

another year, another day

Already the 5th of January!

It's really rather worrying how the time flies by. I mean you barely blink and you're five days into the new year.

All the festivities are gone in a flash.

Reality soon kicks in.

The first full week of 2009 begins for me with two funerals. One today and one tomorrow.

Sadness and sorrow for all of the people involved. Life always seems short, no matter how long it may be a person has lived. And the folk who've died were neither of them all that young. Up in their eighties.

I looked in at the Guild this evening. Mainly to see the technology was working all right. And then to close it down later on.

One of the ladies was speaking about her grandfather, a man well up in his nineties at the time. How he used to say when his friends would ask if he was looking forward to his telegram from the Queen that when you reached his age you were only looking forward to your next meal.

I guess it's about perspective. When you hit that age you don't really plan too far ahead in the future.

I remember my Dad used to say that each day was a gift. We don't ever get it again.

And I'm conscious tonight that another of God's good gifts has been and gone. Another day, with tasks to do and people to see and the chance to reflect on it all.

People sometimes ask me why I write these posts. Lots of different reasons, I suppose.

But one of the reasons is simply that I think the Lord himself adopted such a pattern from the start. Whatever you make of the account that's given in Genesis chapter 1, it's pretty clear God isn;t in a rush.

He takes his time and at the end of every day he stops and looks, or 'sees' what he has done. Reflects on it a bit. And concludes, yes, that was good.

That's part of what I'm doing at the end of every day. Stopping and rehearsing all the many different parts the day has held; reflecting on it all and seeing ... well, yes, it isn't always good, I guess, except in the sense that I've sensed God's presence with me and it's good to be alive.

And it's good to be able to share with other people in the sacred sort of moments in their lives. Which the passing of a loved one always is. A sacred sort of moment. Holy ground.

I often find it hard, demanding, sore. But it's good nonetheless. A privilege.

Today was no different in that regard. There's a lot of work preparing for a service such as this. I don't use notes, but write a script in full.

That takes time and effort, sometimes hours and hours. I like to take a 'run' at it, sometimes through the night. The phone doesn't ring in the dead of night for one thing. Which means there aren't that many interruptions.

The service itself, of course, is past in a flash. But there's something almost timeless in the sense there is of God being very present at that time.

That's not a thing I can conjure up. I have to simply trust that he'll turn up. Because if he isn't there, the emptiness is worse than any words could ever tell.

But he does turn up. At least, it seems to me he does. And it felt again today like he turned up.

There were crowds of people present. More than the chapel could seat, so there were folk left standing by the doors and up the sides. A tribute to the sort of man he was, the man who'd died.

A gentle man. I think that phrase best summed him up.

All the days he lived were tiny little chisellings which fashioned out this final, single phrase. A gentle man.

And I'm left to wonder as another day goes by just what this bit of 'chiselling' has fashioned in my life and what the phrase will be which at life's end will be the Lord's own epitaph upon my life.

clutter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christmas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Death, it seems, has no respect for dates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immanuel, I suppose.

Christmas in its truest sense.