Keeping It Simple

I often hear about churches that try and get back to the early Church model. One can understand why sometimes. There must be disenchantment when another piece of corruption within the Church gets into the news. The massive infrastructure of the Church with all the trappings of power must confuse some. However, institutions do evolve. 

I was once in a church that modeled itself on the early Church format with a system of elders and deacons. It was a very caring church and by and large the structure worked.

However, it experienced the same kind of manning problems that the early church did ( Acts 6 ) in that the leaders did not have time to do everything. Certain people became overstretched. The answer in these situations seems to be to delegate certain people to be specialists while others might have to stick to more menial tasks. 

The church I am thinking about decided to have a pastor! Shock, horror!! He did not last long. The church dispensed with this office and went back to an eldership. 

The last I head the church had adopted a more ‘rock praise’ worship format. More shock, horror!

The simple truth is that organisations do evolve and while it is easy to parody the fixtures, fittings and formats of the mainstream churches they have often come by having for example a priest or a minister through simple evolution. 

An organism that does not grow is perhaps not alive.  

Living Well and Dying better

The writer Zola in his book the Debacle writes of the French soldiers dying from their wounds in the Franco Prussian war being berated by an officer to ‘die like men.’

Yesterday, I went to the memorial service of a man I had not seen for a long time who had been seriously ill for a long period and eventually passed away. He was in his early sixties.

The tributes made me think how well he had lived and how well he had died. 

A pastor declared how he had lived and died a Christian. It was not the usual tribute cobbled together by the family and read out by a minister who had not even met the deceased.

Two things struck me. His children said how he had been a friend and a father. He had left his children prepared for the world and with a positive image of a father not as a tyrant or conversely just a ‘money tree.’ If they choose to follow the Christian faith it is their own decision but they can not say they wanted for guidance or an example.

The other thing I heard was that in his last days the man listened to hours of tapes by a favourite preacher. The dying man was preparing for eternity not reminding himself of his achievements or bewailing lost opportunities. I have spent time with people who realise they are very ill and I have known some who want to quickly finish off a project or make sure their possessions go to the right place. This man did make arrangements for his projects to be stored but he also made arrangements for others to benefit by them.

An old mystic I once read said we should not run from the time left and try and do as much as we can but rather we should advance towards it. 

Thomas Gray’s elegy of a country churchyard tells of what a great leveler death is. The poor, the unknown and famous all lie in the same patch of earth. I like to think this verse describes Paul Clowney. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere

Heaven did a recompense as largely send:

He gave to Misery all he had, a tear

He gained from Heaven ( ‘twas all he wished ) a friend

Days and confused

Today I did something silly. I thought it was Saturday when in fact it was only Friday. I got into my Saturday routine and wondered why a radio programme that has run for decades was not on. I rang a pal and found I was a day out.

I am I confess fascinated with these quirks of time: Phineas Fogg gains a day in Around the World in 80 Days, Sam Tyler in Life On Mars goes back forty years and Bill Murray keeps waking to the same day in Groundhog Days.

Days, the poet Philip Larkin said, are what we live in.  

When we are young time seems a limitless commodity but as we age we realise there is only so much time left ‘in the bottle.’ 

An old mystic said we should walk towards time and embrace eternity.  Our Lord  said we should use the time wisely as the days are evil.  Maybe Our Lord appreciated better the brevity of our physical lives. He also knew how are lives would end as in the case of Peter

( John 21.18 )As the parable of man who lays up for the future ( Luke 12.19 ) shows us we are not privy to when we will be called to give account of our lives. 

As in most of life a balance is needed. I have known two workaholics and sadly both died tragically young. A slower pace would have been better for both. I am sure we all know those who seem to have wasted their days. We must be saddened not judgemental I think. 

O, yes, but having an day  did give me time to write this blog.

http://www.stpauls.co.uk/Visits-Events/Special-Services-Events/Autumn-Forum-The-Case-for-God 

Anger is one letter from danger

On Sunday mornings I sometimes go to an Anglican convent near me as they have a boot sale where they sell things very cheaply. They have a tradition of giving little cards with bon mots on them to customers. This one below made me think. 

A couple of years ago I joined a new church. I was very impressed by the kindness and humility of the clergy. However, on one occasion I went to see one of the priests and had to tell him something very personal. I was expecting sympathy along perhaps with correction. However, he was quite brusque with me. It seemed out of character. I was surprised but he is a very busy man so I took the course of accepting his mild rebuke and made a point of praying for him. Up till then I might have reacted with anger. I have to say that as his reaction played on my mind I had to pray through gritted teeth. I remembered though that line in scripture about leaders having to give account for us. Hebrews 13.17

The other day I found out that at about the time I went to see this priest his wife died. 

I am glad I kept my cool. 

He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city. Proverbs 17.32

More off the top sir?

I recently heard the President of the United States say that black men had a special relationship with their barber. My immediate reaction was to think if a white president had said the same he would have been pilloried. However, it set me thinking. In my area if I want my hair cut I can spend five pounds and have it done speedily but in silence by a Bengali boy who speaks little English and speaks little anyway. I can for ten pounds spend twenty minutes talking football, politics and religion with another barber. We are the same denomination, similar age and both love football. 

There is something special about a hair cut and a good natter with someone on the same wave length. Women know this already. I began to think of another situation of confidentiality. 

Before I joined a mainstream denomination I had a problem with confession. Now it is part of my regular churchgoing. The sacrament of confession is so often portrayed in comedy sketches that its true blessing is rarely communicated. It can however be not just a chance to get things off one’s chest but it can be a time of real ministry with a priest who has the right gifts. The last time I took confession the priest having heard my sins then gave me strategies to deal with them, words of comfort and then told me that he himself was just a humble human being. He left me feeling exultant. He did something that priests do less and less these days; he ministered to me. RS Thomas, the poet and Anglican priest, said that too often these days priests are managers and not priests.

It was a special time and it didn’t cost me ten quid either!! 

Sacrificial Love

I came across a wall full of plaques like this. It is in Postman’s Park near to St Paul’s in the City of London. All the plaques are about people who gave their lives trying to save others.

Several years ago I was by the river in Greenwich near the Cutty Sark. It was mid evening and I noticed a young black guy on the parapet overlooking the river swaying precariously. He was drinking from a bottle. I should have grabbed him and pulled him back from the parapet even if it meant a bit of a fracas.

The inevitable happened and he went over into the river. I looked down and it was quite a way down into the Thames and the water was running fast. I am not a good swimmer and have never done any lifesaving. I knew that if I jumped in I would not be of any use and would probably drown as well. That is my justification anyway.

Fortunately, a young man saw what happened and took off his jeans and shoes and went in and saved the man.

There was once a man who knew that He could save the whole human race from its rebellious nature or at least those who were willing to accept His sacrifice. He did not draw back like I did from giving his life. The real reason being that He loved in way that I do not and was totally free of selfishness.

Restless Hearts Two A Penny

Almighty God,

you have made us for yourself,

and our hearts are restless

till they find their rest in you;

These lines from St Augustine have perhaps become cliche´d. The third and fourth lines are so often quoted now that I fear they have lost their wonderful truth. Also, it often comes detached from the second line which is the key to not having a restless heart in the first place. We inhabit a world, increasingly true in the West, where we do not acknowledge that Man was made for God. Man increasingly believes he was made autonomous and his heart will be restless until it has all it desires ie material goods, fame, status and sexual satisfaction.

Coming over Waterloo Bridge I was confronted by this sign. It was attached to a building in the South Bank which is probably the most important cultural centre in the UK. There was no other slogan to suggest how we fight nothingness. Perhaps it is meant to apply particularly to the arts. If you have seen Sartre’s play In Camera you will know how depressing and nihilistic art without God can become. My thoughts went immediately to St Augustine’s lines as a defence mechanism. Sad then if they are devalued by overuse.

The other lines that are in danger of being over quoted are ‘Footprints In The Sand’ which I now see as a poster, framed to go on your wall and the other day I heard someone say they were going to read a poem and then read Footprints. It has been made into a song.

Expect Footprints the Movie. I was rather pleased then to hear Tim Vine ( a Christian comedian so he is family and is allowed ) gently satirising it.

‘My beloved child, when you look back and see one set of footprints, it is then I should tell you that at that point I thought we should both hop.’