holy ground

The long line of days when there's been no entry here tells its own story.

Like the long flat line on the hospital screen which gently draws a final line beneath a person's life, the lack of entries here has been occasioned by the steady downward line of Mum's declining health and then, at midday yesterday, her peaceful, sacred death.

(That wasn't a miss-print, by the way! It was holy ground on which we all stood, and not a frightening experience at all).

The bulk of my life has been spent at the side of her bed these past few days. And I wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else at all. Her dieing, and her death itself, was marked throughout by just so many tokens of the gracious hand of God upon us all.

And I mean that. Just so many, constant tokens of his hand upon our lives. It's actually that, far more than any sorrow there might be, it's that, the sheer, persistent, overwhelming goodness of the Lord I find the hardest thing to cope with in it all!

Does that sound strange? I think our hearts can cope with pain and sorrow - however hard and sore such things can be - far better than they cope with that huge, eternal, ever so extravagantly tender love of God. My heart is simply just not big enough to cope with and contain the vastness of such wild and warm and winsome love from God.

If my heart is broken at all, it's not by the shattering blows from outwith of that grief at the death of my Mum; but rather from within, through being stretched beyond its bursting point by the personal, perfect, always so particular love and care of God the great Creator for the likes of such as me.

These last few days we've simply been beside her. And with her through these days we've known, in ways that go beyond all words - we've known the Lord himself being there beside us too.

It was, in truth, a privilege.

That thin, flat line which separates eternity from time is very much the line on which we stood. And on that fragile threshold it was given us to see, to catch some small and fleeting glimpse of God in all the glory of his love and grace and power in Jesus Christ.

Awe before the bright, effulgent majesty of God is what we knew. Our feet have surely stood on holy ground.

needing repair

When I was in at the hospital the other day (it must have been the first day Mum was in), I saw a sign on a bed across the floor.

It said simply, 'Needing repair - do not use'.

Which was interesting. Given that there was someone in the bed!

Though it crossed my mind that the sign was maybe referring not to the bed but to the person in the bed! Possible, I suppose. But unlikely!

I figured the bed was having to be used simply because of the pressure there was for care. Not ideal, to have to use a bed that's needing repair. But then we don't really live in an ideal world and sometimes that's just what you have to do.

From time to time we feel like that ourselves. Needing repair - but nonetheless continuing much as ever. Necessity demands it in a far from ideal world.

Saturdays, for me, perhaps reflect at least a hint of just that truth.

We, each of us, we do need that repair. A busy, full, demanding week will take its toll. The one day off the Bible urges on us all has that in mind. We need the rest, a chance to be restored, refreshed, renewed.

We need time out. Repair.

And yet it doesn't always work out quite like that! I guess I had a bit of that today.

The prayer and then the breakfast at the halls to start the day was something of the sort.

But mostly it was more of the same that the last few days have held. Up at the hospital through the afterrnoon to be with Mum. Then down at the halls at night to do some preparation for a Sunday which has come round rather fast!

I smiled at the thought of the sign on the bed. A picture of myself. Needing repair - but nonetheless still fit for use. At least I hope I am!

angel

When I was in at the hospital through the afternoon to be beside my Mum, I got talking to a man from the Philippines.

I presumed he was a nurse from what he did, but because I'm not familiar with the nuances of the way they dress I didn't get it right. He was something less than a nurse, a nursing auxiliary or something like that.

In another life, he's actually a professor at the university, teaching US and Asian history. But now he's here, along with his wife, he's settled for a rather different job.

His name was Angel (pronounced 'Ang-hel', the Hispanic way, he said). And he's a Christian: and his name means 'messenger' (he didn't tell me that - I just happen to know that!).

It crossed my mind that that's a great name to have, so very much appropriate for those who follow Christ. Messengers.

Our lives and our words bring a message to those that we meet. That's what I'm called to do. Each day. Wherever I am. Whatever I do.

I started to think of all that my day had involved. I'd been at the school (the secondary school) first thing. A 5th and 6th year assembly. A chance to say a brief few words to all these teenage pupils.

A message. It made sense, my being a messenger.

From there I went on to call on a couple whose mother had died. The funeral's not till next week, but it was good to be with them, to let them chat on about all that this lady had been.

I must have been there for close on an hour, a lot of the time just listening to what they were saying and how they were feeling and why the man's mother had plainly made such a big impact on him and his brother and all of their children as well.

A message? Well, I suppose there was a simple message that I brought. A message of a God who cares: a God who sits and listens to the stories of our lives and to the whispers of our hearts: a God who will remember all the details of our individual needs.

A message such as that is only brought by sitting there - not speaking all the time. But nonetheless, there's still a message there.

The afternoon was mostly in the hospital. My Mum's not well at all. A lot of the time she simply drifted in and out of sleep - or that strange land half-way between a wakefulness and sleep.

So there wasn't a lot of chatting going on. It was more a case of simply being there for those moments when she opened up her eyes and looked around. I guess it's reassuring when the first thing that you see is something most familiar.

Peace is what I give you, Jesus said. I want to do the same. To give my Mum some peace amidst so much that is confusing and distressing at this time. 'Angel', again. A messenger.

Having seen her in the afternoon, I worked at night: and arriving here at the Halls I met a girl from primary 5, out with a friend on roller blades. We got chatting. She's the one who started pitching up on Sunday mornings and who really so enjoys it all.

She'd loved the P5 classes that I'd led. So I asked her if she'd like to read the passage from the Bible at the service this coming Sunday. (The person I'd hoped would do it had not been able). She was thrilled to be asked, over the moon!

'Angel', again! A messenger of grace. A bit like the angel appearing to Mary. Well, in some ways! A message of significance. This girl was being told she's significant. And I won't forget the look on her face when that fact hit home! Wow!

But the night wasn't done. I was up at the hospital once again late on. My Mum was far from well. I was glad I'd gone. My sister and I were able to be there as they tried a procedure which is always both sore and distressing. Without success, which only made it worse.

'Angels', again. You're not alone. The message that we, all of us, always need to hear.

you got a friend

Jesus had it right.

(I mean, of course he did, but sometimes one more little aspect of the way he lived hits home with freshness and with power).

Although he was their teacher, they were not his pupils but his friends. That's how he viewed them. That was the relationship he sought. You are my friends.

He enjoyed being with them and was glad of their presence, support and their sharing in his work. They did the kingdom thing together. On the level with one another. As friends.

He had it right (as I said at the start!).

It's good to be surrounded by your friends. That's what I'm trying to say, I guess. Folk here have been great today. We simply pull together here and root for one another.

They're my friends. And it's great being on the receiving end of all of that. Understanding, concerned, helpful, supportive and kind. Setting me free to be up at the hospital more and there with my Mum for some time.

Of course, it's been a lovely sort of providence of God as well that my sister's been up from Wales this week: she was there at the hospital today from about midday - right on through to the sort of 'closing time' at night (about 10pm).

My Mum will have been so grateful for that. The presence at her side of one she knows - providing a sort of anchor of familiarity amidst the churning seas of so much that is uncertain and unclear.

Though I walk through the valley of deep darkness I will not be afraid, for you are with me. I know he said that "you are my friends", but more important still is simply this - he is our friend. There for us always in our time of need.

I think my sister's presence in the ward is a sort of sacrament of God's own constant friendship, love and care. Embodying the presence of our risen Lord. That sort of thing.

In some ways that's exactly what we're called to be as followers of Jesus Christ. People who simply bring his presence and his friendship into every place we go. People who embody him. Jesus, in flesh and blood today.

In a sense, I suppose, that's all I ever seek to do and be.

That very thought had crossed my mind when in at the school today. I wasn't there long. The usual Thursday sort of thing. Over coffee. Brief. Spontaneous. Unstructured.

A chance to chat with whoever's free. A chance to simply be there. A presence. The presence of Jesus, his friendship and care.

Idle chat, the bulk of the time. Light-hearted, relaxed and mostly fairly fleeting. A word with the teachers, the briefest encounter with Douglas the janitor there, a simple touching base with the two hard-working secretaries on entry and departure (I have to sign in and out each time I'm there!).

Friendship again. Often expressed in the little things.

I had to laugh in the late afternoon when I was up at the hospital seeing my Mum. I was chatting away to the lady in the adjoining bed and in the course of all the chat she asked what I did, and was I a school teacher! I said, Yes, I do that sometimes, too!

Half-kidding, of course!

(I asked her why she thought I was a school teacher and she it was because I sounded intelligent! And, here, I thought she was in hospital for a gall bladder problem!).

But it did cross my mind that there simply isn't any one thing that I do. And most of what I do is really bound up with mainly being a friend. That's what I do when I teach in the school. Jesus was their teacher, but the pupils were his friends.

That's what I do whatever I'm at. Because that's what Jesus did. And does.

I had a great long chat today with a guy, now up in years, who's doing just that as well. Using all his expertise and strength to help address the poverty so many face in a country far from here. Practical help. Putting people on their feet.

Being their friend. It was challenging hearing his story. Exciting, too. And who knows how that story may continue in the days to come - and how it might involve us here as well.

family life

The children of P5 were over with us today. It was great.

They've really enjoyed these classes we've had: and I think they actually felt a bit sad that today's would be the last. Meanwhile, anyway.

Today was a chance to show them round the inside of the building and let them see why things are as they are and what they're called. It's always great to have that opportunity to ... well, explain to them the message I've been teaching them these last few weeks.

The person: and the event. Simple. And all summed up in those three easy words - Jesus is Lord!

It doesn't matter what's the starting point - it's great to take folk back to this. The person and the event. What Paul did in Athens. And what I was able to do again today.

Starting with the buildings and the way it's all laid out, it all points back to what it's all about - this one amazing person, Jesus Christ and his rising from the dead. I think they got the picture!

We gave them juice and biscuits in the Hall afterwards. They love that sort of thing. We sat them down and let them watch the DVD of the Holiday Club we held here back in April. Since it featured some of them as well, they loved it, thought it was hilarious in parts and simply roared delight! What a lovely thing to see!

But there's no gain without pain, so they say. And the pain today was borne by my Mum who got rushed off into hospital with acute and intolerable pain.

My sister's up from Wales this week, so she got the trip in the ambulance as well. I joined her in the hospital and spent pretty much the rest of the day there.

The staff were great. Run off their feet half the time. But great with it. Helpful, thoughtful, always re-assuring and good to have around. Relationships are everything!

My Mum got shifted to the Royal late on. The specialists are there and they're best placed to treat her with the symptoms and condition that she has.

It's hard to sit and watch such pain, I have to say. To sit and watch and not be all that able to do much in terms of easing all the pain.

Except, of course, to pray. And, reflecting on the day, it seemed to me so much of how her needs were being addressed was very much in answer to such prayer. The hand of God upon her in her need. Sustaining and enabling her through what's a very scary time.

She kept insisting that we must have other things to do and hardly would be wanting to be there with her. But where would a son and daughter rather be than by their mother's side when she's in need? Isn't that what family's all about?

Which brings me back to where the day began. The message that I'm trying to get across is in the end relational - and not a merely intellectual thing. I want these children all to come to know, relationally, the Lord.

To know what it is to be part of his family. To know what it is to belong. And I think they got a feel of that again today.

red cabbage

Can you ever make soup using red cabbage?

Well, at one level, of course you can! I just did. Today (and not for the first time either!)

I called it 'Tartan Tommies' and combined the red cabbage with red plum tomatoes and red tomatoes roasted in the oven. The problem, I've come to see, is that 'red' cabbage is not actually red. It's purple.

More red than the green cabbage, certainly. And (at a stretch, and even then only maybe) 'red' at least in the sense of being a deep, deep red. But not literally 'red'.

And it doesn't matter how many red plum tomatoes or red roasted tomatoes or red anything else you add, the 'red' cabbage (which is actually purple) seems to win the colour stakes!

And though folk seemed to like the description of the soup and the smell of the soup (and if they'd got that far) even the taste of the soup, show them the colour and ... well, a polite no thanks!

Now you can see that I'm getting a thing about this whole business of purple soup!

But you can surely see as well that it is in fact a kind of culinary and unfair discrimination against this brand of cabbage: a sort of gastronomic racism, if you like. A colour prejudice.

Which effectively means that although you actually can make soup using red cabbage - in practice you can't! At least, if you do, no one's prepared to eat it (so what's the point of making it?)!

We were talking about this sort of thing over lunch today. Not the red cabbage as such, nor soup for that matter. But the way our ingrained ways of thinking prevent us even countenancing anything else.

It was the monthly 'fraternal' today. A meeting of fellow pastors from around the locality. These times are usually warm and good. But recently they've become more and more lively and stimulating.

Amazing what sitting round a table eating food can do to folk! They're all so relaxed, it's great. So the chat is good as well. And we ended up addressing once again some fairly major themes.

Why it is God's people don't seem able to communicate their faith. How former ways of 'doing church' just will not work today. And how those ingrained ways of thinking can present just such a barrier to the progress of God's work.

It's the 'red cabbage' problem all over again! If 'church' is not a 'colour' that I'm happy with - well, it's just not church! And I won't touch it!

The folk today were happy enough with the carrot soup. Orange for soup is OK, it would seem (the future is orange, of course!).

But then carrots themselves, when you stop and think about it - carrots themselves aren't orange at all: they're actually purple!

They're only orange because they've been dyed. That's not the way they were made to be.

And I think that's true of the church today: the colour of our life today is not the way it's meant to be - and not the way it was.

I'm trying to get back to the way it's meant to be. What does it mean to follow Jesus Christ? What does it mean to be his church?

The only dying that counts is the death that Jesus died. That death is coloured purple: it was the king who died. And purple's the colour of royalty.

Red cabbage stuff again. For the 'colour' of his death is meant to stain our lives and leave our living always 'purple' too. We've a lot to learn about getting right back to how it's meant to be.

It was, therefore, good to be seeing this afternoon a couple about their marriage. The girl grew up in the church and the man seemed a lovely guy.

And a privilege always for me to be asked to take them on from where they're presently at. That's what Jesus did. Finding out where people were at and taking them on from there.

That's really all I'm called to do. To open up the future for these folk (and yes, I know the future's orange!) and give them something way beyond thheir wildest dreams!

tremors

By the time I got down to the Halls this morning there were already some people gathered there for prayer.

They hadn't exactly booked the room so I hadn't a clue they'd be there! Otherwise I might have joined them. These were some parents whose children are all at the primary school. They've been meaning to meet for long enough (I think), but had just never got it together.

Until today. It was maybe the thought that something exciting is happening along at the school which prompted them now to pray. I mean, they've been praying, I'm sure (of course they have), but now they were keen to join together to pray.

That in itself is a sign of the Spirit at work. When people come together to pray. It's always a clue, a sign, a sure and certain pointer to there being a work of God going on. Like those tiny, little tremors in advance of some big earthquake that's impending.

There's something like that going on. Lots of little 'tremors' which are harbingers of something really big. That's what it feels like these days. The sense of there being a work that God's about to do, little puffs of smoke (to change the image slightly!) suggestive of a coming, huge eruption of the lava of God's love and power.

I was later in this morning, as I say. I had to do some shopping first. Buy up the ingredients for the trifle which I'd said I'd make for a lunchtime meeting the 'Complex Team' were having here today.

We try and meet together periodically. A sort of mutual support system.

I mean, the support is always there, make no mistake: but it's good to take some time to simply 'be', when there's not the constant busy-ness of serving all the lunches and the cups of tea and coffee through the week within the 'complex' here.

A chance to pause, reflect and chat things through and pray for God's fresh working in our midst. More of the little 'tremors' which anticipate the 'big one' yet to come.

And the trifle goes down a treat!

I was on from that to the school again, for this meeting about the start of an SU group. Chris is very much the driver of this thing: he's the teacher at the school, and it's great that it comes from him.

So we were meeting in his room, after the children had gone. Hazel was there as well - she's been with SU now here in Edinburgh for a good many months: and .., well, she's just a great enthusiast. Great to have involved. And always so eager to help.

It's like the bits of a massive jigsaw all beginning to come together. Like the way folk often work at a jigsaw. Taking time to get all the bits laid out on the table. Then finding the corners, slotting them into place: and after that the edges, so that slowly a frame's built up.

It's rather like that. The frame's been put in place and the bits of the jigsaw are all ready, it seems, now to be fitted together.

That meeting of those parents here this morning was significant. A sign indeed. Another little tremor! Something big is just about to happen here!

At night I was out in the home of a couple who've been with us here for a while now, talking through the baptism of their second child which is happening soon (the baptism, I mean, not the second child!).

It was great to be able to talk for a while. Most of the time it's only fairly fleeting bursts of chat I get with them. On a Sunday, over coffee. That sort of thing. So it was great to have time in their home and to be able to talk at some length.

I suppose what struck me most in speaking with them both was the massive opportunity we have to raise up all these growing generations of our children in a way that sees them knowing Christ themselves.

There was a moment today which captured, I thought, the essence of it all.

It was as I was leaving Chris' room along at the primary school. The school was all done for the day, of course: the children all gone away. And just as I stepped out the door, one of the girls from P5 came rushing by on her scooter. I called out a 'Hi!' (using her name) as she flew along the path: and she turned and responded with a smile and a wave.

She's a lively girl, bright in every way: and she's been along to the services here before.

But life is lived at pace these days. And all we get with so many of these children here (eager and open and bright as they are) - all we get is a brief and fleeting moment in their lives to bring them Jesus Christ.

He who hesitates is lost!