anger

Sometimes a single theme seems to dominate a day.

Today's been a bit like that. And the theme has been anger.

Appropriately enough, the weather down south has been making the headlines again. It's a sort of 'anger' thing way out there in the winds and seas and clouds.

The meteorologists have been describing the storms that are hitting the country these days as an 'explosive cyclogenesis', or in more down to earth language, a 'weather bomb'.

Anger is that sort of system transferred onto the globe of our lives. A fiercely destructive thing.

Much of my day has been spent with a series of different people. Lengthy, painful sessions, exploring the hurts and slowly trying to fashion out a future which will give the person hope.

The morning was largely filled with that. (Once I'd made the soup, of course!)

What do you do with the anger you feel? When that anger's been building for years, when that anger's the fruit of a thousand different hurts? It's a huge, big 'low' of energy and if the thing is all held in, then one day it'll simply be volcanic in the way that it destroys the angry person from within.

There aren't any 'magic' solutions. "Let's just pray about it" may sound good and pious, but it doesn't really help. I mean I do pray with and for the folk, and I do so with expectancy and hope.

But faith without action is dead. And the exercise of faith involves us somehow trying to figure out just what the God-directed action is to be. And that takes time, commitment, care.

The bulk of the morning, as I say, was really involved in that sort of faith-ful exercise. It meant a few phone calls, fixing appointments, agreeing to go with the person and meet with someone else as the next step forward.

Anger doesn't vanish just because you pray it will. Not usually, anyway. I guess it'd be fine if it did.

Meeting with someone else in the early afternoon, it was 'anger' again which came up. As a topic of conversation, as it were, rather than anything else. The man I was seeing was struggling to know how best he could help a friend he has who is filled, he declared, with rage.

Anger. Like the 'explosive cyclogenesis' of the weather bomb, the thing is really destructive. It's certainly destroying this person as well. And what to do, and how to help - the guy I was seeing just hadn't a clue how best to hep his friend. He only knew that something, somehow, somewhere must done.

Faith - and some action as well.

And the man with whom I spoke has issues like that too.

He's a leader in Christ's church. Elsewhere. And not long back, an anger in the man exploded too.

I suspect that the anger he felt had been building for quite a while. And I also think that what he said in that sudden, really rather out-of-character, angry outburst which there was - I think it maybe needed to be said: the folk to whom he spoke, I think his angry words were maybe nothing less than God's own word to them.

But still ... it was in anger that he spoke. And that has repercussions, too.

It struck me that this incident was really quite like Moses when he lost the plot and lost the rag and kind of lashed out in his fury at the Israelites.

I think that what he did was probably something Israel had to see. The man's exasperation at their lack of trust was surely quite like God's. Except that Moses lost his cool.

And lost, as well, his ticket to the promised land. It was really quite tough on the guy.

He led them through these many years and brought them to the borders of the promised land, the threshhold of a whole new world. But that's as far as the man himself could go.

I felt for the man I was speaking with. That's maybe how his leadership will end as well.

A long and faithful leading of his people, but all he'll do is bring them to the borders of a brighter, better world.

And later at night, when the leaders here met, I started to think that that's perhaps the way it'll be for me as well!

In hindsight I wondered if the passage that I read in opening up the meeting for us all was maybe more prophetic than I thought.

Deuteronomy 31 - Moses went out and spoke these words to all Israel - "I am now a hundred and twenty years old and I am no longer able to lead you. The Lord has said to me, 'You shall not cross the Jordan' ..."

'I'm getting on in years. I'm really getting past it now. And I'm not going to get to see you where I'd set my heart on taking you.'

That's the sort of drift of what he said. And that's how I began to feel when the meeting was over and done.

But then, I was probably tired! Not thinking all that straight. Not seeing things as I maybe should.

little children

Betty died yesterday morning.

Round about sunrise, on Sunday morning. The day of resurrection.

The timing seemed singularly apt.

A sort of final stamp of God's own hand upon her life right at the very end.

Betty had a vibrant, radiant, sometimes almost child-like faith in Christ: a warm and generous attitude of love to one and all, expressed in just so many ways: and a hold upon the hope that we've been given in God's Son which was unquenchable.

So the details of her dying at the dawning of another day of resurrection was a kind of gentle, clear assurance from the Lord that that great hope by which this woman lived is built on solid ground.

I was glad for her that she didn't really have a lingering illness. There was always a certain decisiveness in how this lovely lady lived. She knew her mind. And deep within her soul, I like to think, she'd sensed that this was it and once that all was clear to her she didn't hang around.

That was yesterday morning, of course. But its shadow hung over today.

Speaking with her relatives and then, mid afternoon, the chance to meet with them and chat with them a bit about arrangements for her funeral.

Since there are family members abroad who may well wish to travel back and gather with the rest of us to thank God for her life, the service won't be held until next week. I'm glad in a way that there won't be a sense of rush. Sometimes it's good to have that sort of space.

At times like this, it's strange how all our memories come flooding back. We find it helps to talk. To chat about the person who has died, the good times and the hard. The ups and downs. The laughter and the tears.

It's as if thereby we somehow sort of chisel out the features of her life until the picture God is keen that we should see emerges and we start to see her as perhaps the Lord himself has always seen her as his own unique, distinctive, and beloved little child.

So there's been a bit of talking here today as well. Not only with her nephews who were in, but also with some others who have known her over years.

I mean, everyone sort of knows her. Even the people who don't, if you see what I mean! She was that sort of person. She left her mark on everyone, through the unembarassed confidence in Christ she had and also through the eagerness with which she daily revelled in the life that he has given us.

She knew that it was good to be alive.

It helped being along at the SU group at school again today. Eleven of them there today and again they were fairly high. A bunch of lively, lovely little girls. So full of life and energy. So full of fun and interest. So keen to learn, so keen to pray.

And being with them there today and watching them all, I thought that that's what Betty, too, was like. Still, for all her nearly eighty years - still a little girl in all the ways that matter most of all.

I think that's how we're meant to be. All of us. Little children.

I think that that's what Jesus meant when time and time again he stressed that we have to be like children both to enter and enjoy the wonder and the beauty and the freedoms of the kingdom of the Lord.

There's an element of my being just a grown-up boy, as well, in all the preparation that I do. I get excited by what I am learning, as God seems to open up his word and speak to me.

A bit like solving a puzzle. Finding the key that opens the door to a whole new vista of truth.

Some of the time was spent today in getting to grips with that. Thinking ahead to the service here this coming Sunday night. What God is saying to us all. I'm excited already!

Excited, yes. Filled with a sense of wonder. Seeing the possibilities. Eager to get up and go.

That's how children are. That's perhaps the only way we ever really get to enter and enjoy the kingdom of God.

And I think Betty herself had long since sussed that out.

presence

The sign at the side of the road is finally there in place!

For long enough the noticeboard's been fairly out of date. Not because we weren't concerned to change the sort of posters that we've put up there. But more because we kept on thinking that it wouldn't now be long before the whole thing would be changed. It was.

The firm who've been doing this for us came and tried to put it up a few weeks back. But the day was windy, the noticeboard blew from their hands, and they had to return and start from scratch again.

As in making a new board.

It looks quite good, I'm bound to say. Gives all the basic info that a person sitting at the traffic lights could want or really register. It's bright and full of colour. And it's got a basic message too.

But it's strange how it's hard to see the old one go. Even though it's long since past its 'sell-by-date'. It's still a wrench to draw that line, consigning what's been there for maybe twenty years and more to memory lane.

Yet it needs to be done. And not just with noticeboards stuck by the side of the road.

There are times when we all must move on. Draw a line beneath a previous episode in life. And launch into the future which, by definition, is unknown.

So there's a certain sort of symbolism, I guess, in this new roadside notice-board going up. Because it is a sort of line we're drawing here as well. We're moving on. Entering a future which is different from the past. And still unknown, and therefore still a risk.

Part of today involved me speaking at length with someone for whom this business of drawing a line is very much the essence of their present need.

It's hard. Especially when the future isn't clear and looks itself quite bleak.

But nonetheless I think that line is needed now. Not least because the present for this person isn't clever one small bit. 'Bleak' doesn't describe it at all. A living hell more like.

It's good to be able to talk. (I know it's a cliche!).

We hadn't arranged to do so, but I'm glad that our paths got to cross. The chance to talk was really quite important and I'm praying hard the way ahead will soon become more clear.

I'll need to walk at least the first few steps along the way together with the person. Help the person out. Push the doors and be there as an almost 'father-like' support.

I think that's kind of what Jesus did as well. He didn't really rabbit on, all words. He got involved. Was there to help. Travelled on the road with folk, not least when things were tough.

And gave them that support. That sense of God the Father being there.

"My presence will go with you" God once said to poor old Moses long ago, when Moses didn't fancy what the future might entail.

Presence. How important that is. How important to be just a 'presence' within the life of the whole community. Just there. I think that's a bit what the sign is about.

How important as well to be there at the side of another in time of need.

I was up at the hospital later on. The traffic was bad so it took me almost an hour - and then I couldn't find the ward for long enough. But I got there eventually.

And the very first thing the person said was simply this - I wondered when you'd come. I knew you'd be, but I wondered when you'd come.

Scary in a way. What would the person have thought if I hadn't in fact made the trip?

Because the fact of my simply being there at her side was what she had been looking for. Presence. A physical, visible symbol of the presence and care of God.

Just being there. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I wil fear no evil - because you are with me".

Same again, in perhaps the most famous of all the Bible's words. Presence.

I think, in a way, that's what our life is really all about. Bringing into the world a sense of the presence of God.

By being ourselves with people. Physically, visibly, tangibly simply there. In love and care. With power and strength. Helping folk to sense there is a future for themselves and then, as well, to help them start to fashion out that future which the Lord alone can give.

It's the same in the acts of worship we hold. All my preparation is directed to this one concern - bringing folk a sense of God's own presence in our midst.

It doesn't happen magically. It doesn't happen through an excellent performance by musicians or the minister. Or anyone else for that matter.

It happens through a miracle of grace.

It happens through the Spirit of God.

It happens through the word God speaks.

In some ways it's not possible to prepare for things like this at all. In other ways, you can never do enough.

So I've also spent time today on just that sort of work. Directing all my energies to figuring out before the Lord how best we may indeed experience his presence as we gather here together again. That, as the new sign says, this may be very much a place where people hungry for God may enjoy a life-transforming encounter with Jesus.

Meeting God. Experiencing God's own presence here and now.

Esther - the re-make!

If you go in for pub quizzes or things like that, it's useful to know that the one book of the Bible which doesn't ever mention God at all is the book of Esther.

Of course, there's a sense in which the whole short book is all about the Lord. And how he works 'behind the scenes'.

He doesn't either need or court publicity. He just gets on with doing what he does.

The story of Esther's really quite amazing. God's never even mentioned: but the way it all turns out it's clear that God is very much in charge of world affairs and somehow (in a way which never interferes with all the different choices that we make), somehow he just over-rules and works things out for good.

Behind the scenes. No mention of God. Yet it's all about God.

Amazing the way he works.

I was thinking of that once again last night.

For those of you who read these posts, I hope it's clear that though it must appear that I'm narrating what I do, in fact I'm really trying to highlight (and I guess to understand as well) what the Lord himself is doing in our midst.

Anyway, last night. There was a meeting again in regard to The Lot. These are difficult days, but exciting days as well. Days of transition and change. Days of real challenge and days of potential as well.

We've reached a situation which, financially, is rather like the one that all the Israelites experienced when they headed out of Egypt on the way to what they'd thought would be a better life.

A massive, mighty army coming charging along behind them. Imposing, impenetrable mountains on either side. And the vast, uncrossable barrier of the Red Sea in front of them.

What in motoring terms is called a 'dead end'. What in euphemistic terms is called 'a bit of a hole'. No way forward and no way out.

But what we discovered in meeting last night were remarkable actions by God. Well, I say, 'by God'. But it's Esther stuff again. That's me getting down and behind the text of what in fact's going on, and recognising God himself at work.

Some might say 'coincidence'. And in some ways, of course, it is. Coincidence. The timely coinciding of a range of different things.

You don't have to read God into the equation. But it helps in solving all life's mysteries, and facing all life's trials, if you do.

You can read the book of Esther either way.

A 'B' grade sort of movie with a set of really unexpected twists and turns which sees things reach a climax where it all works out so well.

Or a simple, subtle warning to whoever dares to live life in this world without real reference to God: Don't!

Danger. God at work.

Well, that's what's very much happening now at The Lot. Out of the blue and just at the perfect time, a wonderful coincidence. Or, more to the point, coincidences plural.

I'll not go into the detail. But in general terms, there have been some very striking 'movements' going on.

Just the right person coming onto the scene and into the process of change at just the right time. For her. And also for us.

All the right skills. All the right contacts. All the right blend of expertise, wisdom and drive.

(And, interestingly, the very first person to visit The Lot on the day that it opened its doors).

But not just that. The right person, in the right place, at the right time.

Amazingly, as part of her work - she's in a sort of limited transition in her working life - she's able to spend as much as a day every week on pursuing the projects we've asked her to do for The Lot.

So not only is she able and willing to help us out, with all the different qualities she has - she's being paid to do it as part of her job!

(A bit like Moses' mother, once again, being paid by Pharaoh's daughter to look after that wee boy who was her son! I think the Lord has a huge big laugh when he works things out like this. And even if he doesn't, I do! I think it's all amazing and I love the way he works things out like this!)

And that's just one of the ways that things have been remarkably moved on.

Alongside that, there have been some striking movements in the policy the government has formed, which mean it may well be there's funding for the work The Lot's committed to, which hitherto we couldn't even dream might be available.

High level government policy change. Which mirrors, it seems, exactly our current concerns.

A person being called to the work at precisely this opportune time. A government changing its tune at precisely the moment of need.

I mean, this could be another modern 're-make' of that ancient book of Esther! Not a mention of God. But he's absolutely everywhere. If you've got the eyes and faith to see him.

Behind the scenes and everywhere. God. The sub-text of the story all the time.

I'm aware of that in my daily life. And it's that I try to highlight in these daily posts.

My life is simply full of things like this. God at work, behind the scenes. In everything.

For example, I was along at the school today again. This is my 'coffee with the teaching staff' day.

Except I never even made it to the staff room up the stairs.

I signed in at reception. And twenty minutes later I signed out. Never having left the entrance hall at all!

A Mum was there with her little P4 boy. New to the school. Newly down from further north and everything so new.

It was as if I was meant to meet them there today. The boy was called Nathan. A Hebrew name which means - he gave.

And I'm thinking as I meet with them and talk with them and see this as another great 'coincidence', this timely, easy crossing of our paths at just this major juncture in their lives - I'm thinking that name reveals it all.

He gives.

He sets these meetings up. He moves these folk around. He prompts these top-notch leaders in the corridors of power to come up with their policies. He orchestrates it all.

He gives. He simply loves to give. It really is just wonderful this living life with him.

Nathan has a brother, so I learned. This younger boy is Samuel.

There's a guy in the Bible called that as well. His mother had been quite desperate.

We're told that when the boy was born, she named him Samuel, saying, "Because I asked the Lord for him".

Nathan and Samuel. It was like the Lord wanted simply to make this clear.

He gives. We ask.

In that order.

That's how it works in the realm where Christ is king!

bereavement

'Does it ever get any easier?'

It was Nessie who asked the question, as she came around the tables here today and served us all our lunch.

It wasn't her waitressing skills the lady was talking about. Rather, the pains and the void of bereavement. Nessie's husband died a few months back and it's still sore.

She loves coming round on a Wednesday here, to help out with the crowds who come for lunch. She's great with them all. And I think it helps her, too. Gets her out. That sort of thing.

I fear I said 'No' just a little too clearly and fast.

But I don't think it does get easier really, no matter the time that goes by.

There are times when the void of my Dad not being there is as deep as it ever was. I still miss him loads.

And that's now almost quarter of a century ago he died.

My Mum, as well, of course. A matter of a mere five months since she's no longer been there: and the void is just as fresh and real and deep as first it was.

So, no, I don't for a moment believe that the grief in bereavement will ease. I think it's more a case we learn how best to cope with it.

I was chatting with folk at lunch today, in the aftermath of Nessie's question as she served. Most of the folk were widows themselves. Like Nessie, now, as well. They all said the same.

There are phases, of course, milestones along all the journey bereavement involves which mark out the stages of grief. But does it get easier? Not really.

That's one of the many good things about these midweek lunchtime services we hold. There's always this chance to chat round the table with all sorts of different folk.

And as we chatted on today they turned the whole thing round on me and asked me if it wasn't quite depressing for me when I visited the dying and bereaved.

'Draining', I said. But really not depressing much. There's always such a sense of God being very present and of his being much at work.

I find that really quite exciting, a humbling, privileged window that I'm given which enables me to see the Lord at work. Turning all the formlessness and darkness and the voids into a whole new situation he creates.

Draining, for sure, but not depressing at all.

But even that doesn't make it easier. I find it always hard.

Hard to go in to the hospital ward - as I did again this afternoon - and see a dear friend slowly sort of slipping out of life.

The longer I'm here, the harder it gets. Not least because these folk that I am seeing have become across the years a sort of family.

Betty's a case in point. I thought, some two or three years back, when she'd been in the hospital - I'd thought back then that that was maybe it. But no, she'd rallied quite remarkably and got back home and been her usual bright and cheery self.

I can't see that being how things work out for her now. I think she's slowly slipping from this world and in perhaps a day or two at most will quietly sleep and slip away.

I called in yesterday as well to see her in the ward. She was sleeping, and peaceful, with the hint of the smile she always seems to have upon her face. I sat with her and read a bit and prayed a bit.

As much, I have to say, to mark the presence of the Lord beside this saint, as for herself. I'm not sure she'd have heard a word herself.

Today I was in again. She's in a side-room now. Poorer and weaker. But still so very much at peace. And again, I read the scriptures at her side and prayed. Strange, the Lord gave me a Scripture (not one I'm that familiar with), as I sat there at her side.

As if he said, "That's for her. That's all you need to know."

Again, I didn't stay all that long. Twenty minutes or so. I find it hard.

How many times have I called on folk like that across the years? Who knows. And does it ever get easier? The answer's always No.

Betty's a friend. Up in her eighties now, I guess, so a generation on from me. But still a friend.

I realise how quickly down the years all the little cameos there are of who she was and how she looked and what she did, that sort of thing - all these little cameos combine to fashion bonds of love and friendship with such folk.

She didn't mind what other people thought of her. She knew the Lord had loved her and I think for her that that was all that mattered.

She used to sing her heart out in our worship here on Sundays, with a huge, big massive smile across her face.

And after worship, as she passed me at the door, she'd always take my hand in hers and bow to give my hand a kiss. I fear I was a little bit embarassed by it all at first (too much exposure to all the little 'Child Protection' rules, I guess). But now I'm kind of used to it, I miss it at the door when she's not there.

She never bothered one small jot what others might have thought. She was glad to show her gratitude and love for one who was a brother in the Lord.

I think that's why I answered Nessie's question just as quickly as I did this afternoon and said, No, it doesn't get easier at all.

For myself, it only gets harder, this business of saying 'goodbye'.

I know it's not the end. And yet, so far as this life goes, of course, it is.

And, as I said, it's not a thing which leaves me all depressed. Just drained. Sometimes desperately drained.

When I call on in and see the likes of Betty there in hospital: when I sit around around the table with these folk at lunch-times such as this today - I think I start to understand the better just what Jesus meant, when saying to those people who had gathered round himself to share the journey with him, that they were, indeed, his family.

It often feels exactly like that here. It's great! It really is.

But it also makes it hard.

creation

Last night, as I said in yesterday's post, I was round with the couple I've been meeting with now for almost a year.

Except, now it's two couples. The one-to-one sort of thing that it was has grown into a kind of group I suppose. In fact, there's been a lot of growth in loads of different ways. Which leaves me really thrilled and also humbled by it all. God so very evidently working in our lives.

One of the ways there's been some striking growth is in the way we pray. From the first time we met we ended with a prayer.

I prayed. Me being the minister and that sort of thing. But, I mean, they asked me to, it wasn't something ritually imposed or anything like that.

But now they pray as well. It's wonderful! Such unpretentious speaking to the Lord. We all pray. All five of us now.

A week or so ago, we'd prayed about Paul's nephew. This poor young lad had had a really nasty burn at school. There were fears he might lose his thumb and there was the prospect of a fairly major skin graft.

So we'd joined with each other and asked God to bring his healing to bear upon the boy.

And last night we learned that when the doctors took the bandage off they were themselves amazed at how his hand had so remarkably improved. No problem with the thumb. No need for any skin graft at all!

We were looking at Genesis 1. In the beginning God created. From the beginning, too. That's just what he does. And here, he'd done it again.

Those words from the start of Genesis 1 have been with me all through today. There have been these past few days that many little things reminding me that sometimes God just draws a line and says - Right, now we'll start again.

And he does. He starts his whole creative work again. In our lives and situations.

Which are often like the earth had been, we're told, when first God started work. Without form and void and only darkness everywhere.

And the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

I love that little sentence. That's the little line God draws to say it's time we sort of get ourselves all ready for the action to begin. God's action. God's creative, re-creative action.

When he starts to put things right, to sort things out and open up a future which at present seems impossible.

This morning was just like that. A hopeless-looking, pain-filled situation. One that's long since lost its 'shape' and 'form' and now is far from being remotely like what it was meant to be and what the person longed that it might be.

And the person involved left desolate, empty, and dry. The life and sparkle all but sucked completely out of her over all these many months.

And the prospect just so desperately bleak.

Formless. Void. And dark.

And this morning it was like God simply said again - the Spirit of God is hovering over the waters. Ready for action, which is now about to begin.

I was able to say that I would help and was ready to be involved. There are steps to be taken and now is the time. Creation beginning again.

The start of a whole new work of God, which bit by bit will bring about a future that could scarcely be imagined were it not for God's own Spirit being so mightily at work.

It's amazing to see God at work. Right there in the dark, in the formlessness, emptiness, void.

The Spirit of God hovering over the waters!

It was something the same at night. Albeit in a very different context from the one there was this morning.

A couple who've been coming here each Sunday for the past few weeks. Her family a mess, if such family life existed now at all. And his own background, different in its way, but far from being the way that he'd have wished the thing to be.

And wanting to start again. Marriage. But marriage begun with the blessing and presence of God.

The girl started coming to share in our worship a few months back. And, though she lives a distance away, she kept coming back. She felt, having searched through the city, she felt that this was a place and a people where she could belong.

He's "not religious at all". Neither am I, of course! But he started coming along. From choice, he said. Looking for meaning. Looking for life. And starting to sense what it maybe was like to be free at last.

He was there at worship this Sunday morning past. And moved to tears. The message was so personal, so much about himself.

The Spirit of God hovering over the waters.

I must have had a good two hours with the two of them.

And the more we talked the more it seemed to me that we now were her 'family' and we could now be helping with the many practicalities there are in getting married.

A place for the reception. Arrangements for the flowers. Things like that. "I mean, £80 for a bouquet!" she exclaimed. "When I could walk into Tesco and get the flowers for less than a quarter of that. I think I'll make the bouquet myself!"

Marriage isn't cheap these days! And here's a girl without a family network to support her in the many different aspects of the day. I said we'd gladly help her out - and make the whole thing fun for them and for the friends they're keen to have along.

Formless, void and dark. In a sense, that's where they're coming from, this pair. And the presence of the Spirit of God, 'hovering over the waters', was really just so palpable, I almost heard the flapping of his wings!

In the beginning, and from the beginning, God is the one who creates.

Days like this are really very humbling when I see the Lord being very much at work in just that way.

And find myself, as every single follower of Jesus gets to be, a part of what he does.

the one thing I need

Mondays I'm usually along at the lunchtime SU group at the local primary school. Today was no exception.

They're interesting, children! You never know quite just what to expect. Today they were high as kites. Maybe that explained the sort of answers they were giving.

We were playing a game at the start of the time where they had to choose whether something that I mentioned was a thing they'd need, a thing they'd want or a thing they couldn't really care a toss about.

Some interesting answers. Like, a large, expansive (and expensive) flat-screen TV is a thing they'd need.

While water is a thing they'd want but wouldn't need. On the basis, they said, that people in Africa didn't have water, so .. a shrug of the shoulders, presumably you can get by without it.

An interesting observation. I'm not sure how the same logic follows through with the flat-screen TV sets. But then, that's children for you!

The basic question, though, is one that's fairly challenged me these past few days. What do I really need?

I touched on it on Sunday night. How Jesus once spoke to a friend of his named Martha. Martha was basically stressed out. Domestic life can often be like that, I guess.

And Jesus simply told her as it was and said she was pretty much missing the point. One thing is needful, he said. The subtext being that being busy round the house like that was not the 'one thing needful'.

Martha's sister Mary had it right. She was merely sitting there with Jesus, simply listening as he spoke, enjoying his being there with them in their home.

That's what you need. Jesus could happily live with a cobbled together meal on plates that didn't match. It's the time with the people that mattered to him - not the standard of cuisine displayed or how the thing's presented.

A pig's breakfast would have suited him fine, as long as he'd time to be sitting and chatting with friends. (Except, of course, I realise, being a Jew himself, a pig's breakfast would not have been that 'kosher')

Sitting and listening to him.

I tried to do some of that today. The one thing needful.

This coming Sunday night I'm going to preach on sixteen chapters of the book of Deuteronomy. Seventeen, thinking about it (my maths is not that great!).

Chapters 12-28 of this remarkable book contain a whole long list of down-to-earth instructions for the Israelites: instructions on the nitty-gritty business of ... well, getting on with others in the land they're going to settle in together when they cross the river Jordan.

Life lived in community is complex and frustrating. We know that here. Most folk know it - either with their families, or in their place of work, or with their next door neighbours or the like.

Hence this comprehensive package of instructions Moses gives.

Anyway, that's my 'text' for Sunday night this week.

So I spent some time today just reading through these chapters in a 'one-er', then re-reading them, reflecting on the lessons they point up. Sort of sitting and listening to Jesus.

It didn't seem like a waste of time. Slowing down, listening in at length and then, I guess, 'digesting' what this whole large chunk of Scripture has to say to us today.

(Loads of it, of course, is pretty much related to a rather different culture from our own, so there's quite a bit of sifting to be done to figure out its lessons for ourselves).

The evening was sort of the same. Except this time joining with others. 'Mary and Martha together' sort of thing.

The five of us who met last week, we met again. Seated round a table, coffee and sweets and shortbread to hand. Six of us really, since Jesus himself is always around. Which is why we're really there.

The time seemed to fly. Listening and learning. And being there together with him.

The one thing we need.