I've just lead my second funeral during these pandemic days of social distancing and self-isolation. I can only imagine it's going to get harder. Let me fill you in on what normal used to look like.
The 'phone would ring and it would be the Funeral Directors asking me if I'm available with a date and time. An email with fuller details follows and I set a reminder on my computer to call the family. If there's a mobile number I'll send a text to let them know I'll be calling.
We arrange a visit (unless they are too far away to make it practical) and Put the data into my diary which these days automatically finds the address and shows me a map. I print out a file I have of possible readings, make sure I've got some business cards and power up the MacBook.
At the visit we go through the elements of a funeral and talk about what they would like to do. And, this is a key part, I get to meet the family and try to get a read of where they are emotionally and spiritually. Grief is not an easy journey to navigate and my job is to help make this part as easy as possible.
We meet at the crematorium or wherever the service is to be held and we greet one another. The service proceeds and at the end I shake everyone's hand. Sometimes you hold the hand a little longer because it's obvious they need that bit of extra assurance.
This is not a job for me, it's an expression of ministry, it's about being a representative of the kingdom in the midst of their sorrow and grief.
But now so much of this has changed. No visits, no face to face contact. I suppose we could use Skype or FaceTime or Zoom or some other video conferencing tool, but who has the time to set them all up and switch between them. So it's a telephone call, a series of emails, a nagging feeling that there's something missing.
You arrive at the crem to see what looks like a very large marquee erected in the main car park. I't not a marquee of course, it's a temporary mortuary. More signs that life is even more fragile in these days of escalating infection and deaths. No access to the office to check the music and chat to the chapel attendant.
The hearse pulls into the drive. No limousines, the family have had to make their own way there. You wonder who it is you've been talking to on the 'phone. you can't wander up to people and ask, you just have to hope that they will somehow make themselves known. Either that, or you'll have to ask form the front.
You start the service with an apology for not having been able to visit and for not be able to shake hands at the end of the service. It's not your fault of course, and everyone understands, but you still feel a pang of guilt that somehow you haven't served them well.
In the chapel all the service books have been put away. How do you say The Lord's Prayer without a book? From memory you say, but which version and whose memory? Uncle John wants to share a few memories. Okay, but what do you do if he touches the lectern? In a small chapel you might nt be able to get 2m away unless you open the back door and step outside!
Half a dozen mourners sit spread out in a 100 seat chapel. No handshakes at the end, just a nod from a safe distance. No time with the family around the flowers.
It feels so strange, and any spare thoughts you have ought rightly to go to the families who are having to say goodbye to someone they have loved in such a clinical and sterile way. But as I make my way home I can't help but feel that it's going to get harder. One fellow celebrant has stopped because his wife is in a high risk category and he feels it's the right thing to do. I agree with him.
So far I haven't be involved with a funeral for anyone who has died as a result of a Covid-19 infection, but I doubt it will be too long. As long as I feel safe and well I will continue to serve families to the best of my ability.
I'm not trying to suggest that as funeral celebrants we're being overlooked. We're not key workers. We don't need special recognition for what we do. I just wanted to share my thoughts.
Showing posts with label reflections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reflections. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 01, 2020
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
What a Native American Prayer taught me about my own spirituality
I did a funeral the other day for someone who was described as being very spiritual but not in a traditional Christian way. I often hear variations on this description, often accompanied with some sort of apology for some reason. The apology is probably because I'm an ordained minister and therefore represent orthodox spirituality to them (if only they knew me better!).
I also think that for many people they actually don't associate church with spirituality but rather religion, which is totally different in their eyes. To be honest, sometimes they might be right.
In the preparation for the service I'd been asked to look at finding a way to introduce a prayer I regularly use (God be in my head and in my understanding...) in a way that allowed the people their to express their own spirituality and that of the deceased person. For them kindness or goodness would be more appropriate than "God". In thinking about that I'd come up with a form of words that meant I could sill say the prayer as it is and yet make room for people to connect with it as they wished. I often do this with the Lord's Prayer by offering an invitation to join in saying it but not making it an obligation if someone is not comfortable doing so. It's a simple act of pastoral kindness in my view and not some sort of denial of my faith!
So, having sorted out the prayer I was taken a bit by surprise by the Native American prayer that was read by someone at the service. It's called "The Great Spirit Prayer" and here are the words:
Our problem is that we've disconnected ourselves and our faith from the world around us and reduced it to a form of words we must articulate and not a life we are called to live. The idea of living in harmony with our environment s not some New Age philosophy but surely an expression of our place in a created order for which we have responsibility.
And who wouldn't want to act from a pure heart and not with anger?
Our selfishness has robbed us of being able to walk humbly with our God. We'd rather agonise over the rights and wrongs of dropping £1 in the hand of a homeless person than simply doing it as an act of pure heart seeking to help others.
The downside of evangelicalism is that we've pursued an orthodoxy that protects the gospel from corruption, but in so doing we've limited its expression through the simplicity of a life lived in relationship with the God who loves us and misses us.
I also think that for many people they actually don't associate church with spirituality but rather religion, which is totally different in their eyes. To be honest, sometimes they might be right.
In the preparation for the service I'd been asked to look at finding a way to introduce a prayer I regularly use (God be in my head and in my understanding...) in a way that allowed the people their to express their own spirituality and that of the deceased person. For them kindness or goodness would be more appropriate than "God". In thinking about that I'd come up with a form of words that meant I could sill say the prayer as it is and yet make room for people to connect with it as they wished. I often do this with the Lord's Prayer by offering an invitation to join in saying it but not making it an obligation if someone is not comfortable doing so. It's a simple act of pastoral kindness in my view and not some sort of denial of my faith!
So, having sorted out the prayer I was taken a bit by surprise by the Native American prayer that was read by someone at the service. It's called "The Great Spirit Prayer" and here are the words:
What struck me most about this prayer is the humility it expresses. This isn't the kind of prayer you might hear most Christians utter as they plead for their finances or job prospects. It's not what you'll hear in some churches as calls for revival or heavenly interventions are made. But as Paul did with the monument to an unknown God, if you substitute "Lord our God", for "Great Spirit" it is a prayer that we can say. Yes there ay be odd elements that we might be careful about (lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock), but overall it expresses a simplicity of faith that I fear we have somehow lost.Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind, whose breath gives life to all the world. Hear me; I need your strength and wisdom. Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset. Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice. Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people. Help me to remain calm and strong in the face of all that comes towards me. Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. Help me seek pure thoughts and act with the intention of helping others. Help me find compassion without empathy overwhelming me. I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy, Myself. Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes. So when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.
Our problem is that we've disconnected ourselves and our faith from the world around us and reduced it to a form of words we must articulate and not a life we are called to live. The idea of living in harmony with our environment s not some New Age philosophy but surely an expression of our place in a created order for which we have responsibility.
And who wouldn't want to act from a pure heart and not with anger?
Our selfishness has robbed us of being able to walk humbly with our God. We'd rather agonise over the rights and wrongs of dropping £1 in the hand of a homeless person than simply doing it as an act of pure heart seeking to help others.
The downside of evangelicalism is that we've pursued an orthodoxy that protects the gospel from corruption, but in so doing we've limited its expression through the simplicity of a life lived in relationship with the God who loves us and misses us.
Thursday, July 05, 2018
When faith becomes a platitude
At the end of May I wrote this post in the wake of yet another school shooting in America. I could have written it as a response to the ever increasing knife attacks in London. The only difference is that in the US "prayers and thoughts' get wheeled out as if that's sufficient. That's what bothers me.
I'm angry. Angry and frustrated. I'm angry and frustrated because yet another school shooting has occurred in America and more lives have been lost. But that alone is not all that is winding me up today. It's also the response.
President Trump offers his prayers, a good and proper thing to do, but he can do more. He has the power and authority to create a climate for change. To tell people that it must stop, that more guns are surely not the solution. To tell them that even if they have a constitutional right to bear arms then they need to give up that right for the sake of the nation and in the name of sanity.
Now I know that there are those who profess a faith and subscribe to the pro-gun lobby. I also know that there are those who will tell me that I'm not an American, I don't live in America and it's none of my business. Okay, I understand that, but I'm going to speak anyway because there's more a stake here than national political and identity.
Our faith is being undermined when powerful people invoke prayer without action as a sufficient response. Prayer is not a political tool. Jesus said some interesting things about faith that lacks action. For example, in Matthew 25 we read several parables that follow similar themes. There are the wise and foolish virgins (5 are prepared, 5 are not), the 'talents' or bags of gold and the sheep and goats-a parable about judgement. It is in this last parable that Jesus speaks about the righteous who act 'For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I needed clothes and you clothed me...' If you know the passage, you know that their action wasn't predicated on who was hungry or thirsty, they simply responded with action to the things they saw. The unrighteous see the same things but do nothing.
So why this passage? Well in the first place I'm not about to use it to condemn or judge people. That's not the point. The point is simple. Faith demands action. It simply cannot stand by. It cannot be a platitude.
The gospel remains a powerful message, not only about how we relate to God but also about our responsibility in the world. It has something to say about poverty, about homelessness, about guns and violence, about economics and exploitation, about refugees.
Yes, I'm still angry that powerful people dispense faith without using their power to make a difference.
I'm angry. Angry and frustrated. I'm angry and frustrated because yet another school shooting has occurred in America and more lives have been lost. But that alone is not all that is winding me up today. It's also the response.
President Trump offers his prayers, a good and proper thing to do, but he can do more. He has the power and authority to create a climate for change. To tell people that it must stop, that more guns are surely not the solution. To tell them that even if they have a constitutional right to bear arms then they need to give up that right for the sake of the nation and in the name of sanity.
Now I know that there are those who profess a faith and subscribe to the pro-gun lobby. I also know that there are those who will tell me that I'm not an American, I don't live in America and it's none of my business. Okay, I understand that, but I'm going to speak anyway because there's more a stake here than national political and identity.
Our faith is being undermined when powerful people invoke prayer without action as a sufficient response. Prayer is not a political tool. Jesus said some interesting things about faith that lacks action. For example, in Matthew 25 we read several parables that follow similar themes. There are the wise and foolish virgins (5 are prepared, 5 are not), the 'talents' or bags of gold and the sheep and goats-a parable about judgement. It is in this last parable that Jesus speaks about the righteous who act 'For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I needed clothes and you clothed me...' If you know the passage, you know that their action wasn't predicated on who was hungry or thirsty, they simply responded with action to the things they saw. The unrighteous see the same things but do nothing.
So why this passage? Well in the first place I'm not about to use it to condemn or judge people. That's not the point. The point is simple. Faith demands action. It simply cannot stand by. It cannot be a platitude.
The gospel remains a powerful message, not only about how we relate to God but also about our responsibility in the world. It has something to say about poverty, about homelessness, about guns and violence, about economics and exploitation, about refugees.
Yes, I'm still angry that powerful people dispense faith without using their power to make a difference.
Monday, May 14, 2018
I'm still here: Me and the Missional Movement
Making the decision to re-read a book can remind you of things once influential in shaping your thinking but largely forgotten or subsumed in other trains of thought. I ought to re-read far more than I do on that basis! Anyway, I started to re-read something and it reminded of me of why I think the way I do about church, mission and community.
Ever since I wrote a rather lengthy, and somewhat pretentious essay about the commissioning statements of Jesus and the Early Church, I've been asking questions about the kingdom, mission and the church. It finally crystallised with the emergence of the language of the missional community. As I tried to figure why, if it was the heart of the church's reason for existing, evangelism was so hard? Was it just down to the spiritual battle against the forces of darkness, or was it because somehow we'd lost the plot and prioritised the 'winning of souls' in a way that skewed the role of the church.
Suddenly the vocabulary of the missional movement gave me a way to both understand and express what I was feeling. The church wasn't here to lead a movement but to follow one. We weren't on a mission as much as we were in partnership with the God of mission. It was his mission, not ours.
That leads us the question "What does that mission look like in my community?" If the kingdom of God is among the people with whom I spend my time, how do I alert them to that reality? How do I stop trying to turn everything I do into a precursor for evangelistic engagement?
Well, I'm struggling to answer some, if not all of those questions, but I find myself every so often involved in seeing glimpses of what the rule of God means in the everyday interactions of my life. It usually comes as I sit and talk with people and they share their struggles and ask me what I think. One lesson I learned at college from a long serving minister was never give advice. If it works, they become dependent upon you, if it doesn't they blame you. So the best course of action is to explore ideas with them. I've had two or three of these encounters recently.
I don't carry a sign or a card identifying myself as some sort of life coach or counsellor or guru. I'm just me. I listen and more often think 'what am I supposed to say to that?' I try to reflect things back and somehow to allow the kingdom of God to reveal itself. I was once described as being ruthlessly committed to grace, and I think that still stands.
Grace changes everything. The unfolding story of the bible is of God's desire to be with his people. To share daily life with his creation. The tabernacle has long been a wonderful example to me of how far God will go to be at the heart of the community of his people. He does this not by providing an escape route but by making it possible for him to dwell amongst the people he loves. The tents and screens have less to do with keeping people at bay and more to do with God figuring out how to live amongst them without destroying them. Oh, and by the way, that's not the church, it's much, much wider than that. To equate the church with the kingdom is to miss the point almost entirely of the narrative of scripture.
So I try to be 'grace'. I can't think of a verb that does the idea justice. Gracious, graceful, just don't cut it. Perhaps grace-filled is the closest. I try to be the kingdom not just preach the kingdom. It doesn't always work. I'm trying to partner with God by living as best I can in the midst of a community. I guess we'd call that incarnational and I guess it's what Jesus did and what he calls us to continue to do in his name.
Ever since I wrote a rather lengthy, and somewhat pretentious essay about the commissioning statements of Jesus and the Early Church, I've been asking questions about the kingdom, mission and the church. It finally crystallised with the emergence of the language of the missional community. As I tried to figure why, if it was the heart of the church's reason for existing, evangelism was so hard? Was it just down to the spiritual battle against the forces of darkness, or was it because somehow we'd lost the plot and prioritised the 'winning of souls' in a way that skewed the role of the church.
Suddenly the vocabulary of the missional movement gave me a way to both understand and express what I was feeling. The church wasn't here to lead a movement but to follow one. We weren't on a mission as much as we were in partnership with the God of mission. It was his mission, not ours.
That leads us the question "What does that mission look like in my community?" If the kingdom of God is among the people with whom I spend my time, how do I alert them to that reality? How do I stop trying to turn everything I do into a precursor for evangelistic engagement?
Well, I'm struggling to answer some, if not all of those questions, but I find myself every so often involved in seeing glimpses of what the rule of God means in the everyday interactions of my life. It usually comes as I sit and talk with people and they share their struggles and ask me what I think. One lesson I learned at college from a long serving minister was never give advice. If it works, they become dependent upon you, if it doesn't they blame you. So the best course of action is to explore ideas with them. I've had two or three of these encounters recently.
I don't carry a sign or a card identifying myself as some sort of life coach or counsellor or guru. I'm just me. I listen and more often think 'what am I supposed to say to that?' I try to reflect things back and somehow to allow the kingdom of God to reveal itself. I was once described as being ruthlessly committed to grace, and I think that still stands.
Grace changes everything. The unfolding story of the bible is of God's desire to be with his people. To share daily life with his creation. The tabernacle has long been a wonderful example to me of how far God will go to be at the heart of the community of his people. He does this not by providing an escape route but by making it possible for him to dwell amongst the people he loves. The tents and screens have less to do with keeping people at bay and more to do with God figuring out how to live amongst them without destroying them. Oh, and by the way, that's not the church, it's much, much wider than that. To equate the church with the kingdom is to miss the point almost entirely of the narrative of scripture.
So I try to be 'grace'. I can't think of a verb that does the idea justice. Gracious, graceful, just don't cut it. Perhaps grace-filled is the closest. I try to be the kingdom not just preach the kingdom. It doesn't always work. I'm trying to partner with God by living as best I can in the midst of a community. I guess we'd call that incarnational and I guess it's what Jesus did and what he calls us to continue to do in his name.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Russell Brand and the kingdom of heaven
I read with increasing interest and fascination a recent article (Oct 17) about Russell Brand's encounter with faith and spirituality, born out of journey form addiction to sobriety. As many evangelicals might rush to try and work out if they can now call him a Christian or not, I was much more interested in his journey and the reflections and observations he was making about the teaching of Jesus the role spirituality can have in the rehabilitation process through which every recovering addict must go if they are to get free of their addiction.
Brand is on a spiritual journey, that much is pretty obvious, but it's some of his observations that caught my eye. Asking questions about what the realised kingdom looks like for a world crippled by addiction to superficial fulfilment; that the purpose of religion is "love and connection"; the relationship between forgiveness and being forgiven and the impossibility of redemption until you are willing to forgive and let go. So many fascinating things.
Then I got to thinking about the church and it's preoccupation at times with sound doctrine rather than practical outworking of the gospel. How many times did I hear the cry, "What we want/need in this church is good, sound Biblical teaching." When what was actually needed was a simple attempt to try and live out the values and expectation of the kingdom. Russell Brand picks this up when he comments about Jesus telling the rich young ruler to give up all he has and follow him.
There's something wonderfully simple about the kingdom when you boil it down to love and connection. It's not perfect, it's not polished, it's not about excellence. It's not about providing the best, loudest, most technologically clever experience of worship. It's about being something so much more than such superficial thinking. And yes, it is superficial. Going to a worship event doesn't have to be better than a rock concert.
My relationship with the institution and practice of church is, to be honest, non-existent these days. I don't go, I don't want to go! I'm busy coaching on a Sunday and even if I could move it all to Saturday I'm not I would suddenly feel a deep desire to wander back into the pattern I left behind 6 years ago.
But the kingdom still bothers me. The implications of what Jesus taught still cut through the busyness that surrounds me. I might not be concerned about filling the church, but populating the kingdom still sits on my agenda.
As yet another mega-church leader faces allegations about their behaviour I wonder if the drive to succeed, to be excellent in all we do, is a route to power that ultimately demands a high price from us. Is the church too corporate, to reflective of the world's values and less expressive of the values of the kingdom?
I'm not sure where the answer lies. Maybe we need to stop, sit at the feet of Jesus and listen.
It's midday and my alarm reminding of that fact has just gone off. It's time to say the Lord's Prayer. That's why the alarm is set, to remind me stop each day. Some days I simply say the prayer, somedays I'm in the middle of trying to drill a forehand winner down the line, some days I take a little more time to reflect on the words. Maybe today is a more reflective day.
Brand is on a spiritual journey, that much is pretty obvious, but it's some of his observations that caught my eye. Asking questions about what the realised kingdom looks like for a world crippled by addiction to superficial fulfilment; that the purpose of religion is "love and connection"; the relationship between forgiveness and being forgiven and the impossibility of redemption until you are willing to forgive and let go. So many fascinating things.
Then I got to thinking about the church and it's preoccupation at times with sound doctrine rather than practical outworking of the gospel. How many times did I hear the cry, "What we want/need in this church is good, sound Biblical teaching." When what was actually needed was a simple attempt to try and live out the values and expectation of the kingdom. Russell Brand picks this up when he comments about Jesus telling the rich young ruler to give up all he has and follow him.
He references Jesus’ command to the rich young ruler in Matthew 19 who asks, “What good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life?” Brand says, referencing Christ’s response, “Give away all your possessions and follow me—that’s a pretty radical thing.”A difficult passage for many a middle-class, house-owning, financial security seeking, wise-stewardship leaning congregation. It's not that we don't want to be fully devoted followers of Jesus, we just can't afford to go that far! And yes, I understand that there is a specific application in this passage, but let's not allow ourselves to excuse ourselves from the possibility that our discipleship might be more costly that we'd like to think.
Brand says the reason why this idea is so radical is because it strikes at the core of the values so many people secretly hold: that money and materialism can cure our unhappiness. “I think the reason that the economic arguments Christ offered are not promoted is because they are deeply at odds with the way we live,” he explains.
Instead of focusing on unhealthy patterns centered on self-fulfillment, the message of the Gospel offers an alternative: caring for others and helping those in need.
There's something wonderfully simple about the kingdom when you boil it down to love and connection. It's not perfect, it's not polished, it's not about excellence. It's not about providing the best, loudest, most technologically clever experience of worship. It's about being something so much more than such superficial thinking. And yes, it is superficial. Going to a worship event doesn't have to be better than a rock concert.
My relationship with the institution and practice of church is, to be honest, non-existent these days. I don't go, I don't want to go! I'm busy coaching on a Sunday and even if I could move it all to Saturday I'm not I would suddenly feel a deep desire to wander back into the pattern I left behind 6 years ago.
But the kingdom still bothers me. The implications of what Jesus taught still cut through the busyness that surrounds me. I might not be concerned about filling the church, but populating the kingdom still sits on my agenda.
As yet another mega-church leader faces allegations about their behaviour I wonder if the drive to succeed, to be excellent in all we do, is a route to power that ultimately demands a high price from us. Is the church too corporate, to reflective of the world's values and less expressive of the values of the kingdom?
I'm not sure where the answer lies. Maybe we need to stop, sit at the feet of Jesus and listen.
It's midday and my alarm reminding of that fact has just gone off. It's time to say the Lord's Prayer. That's why the alarm is set, to remind me stop each day. Some days I simply say the prayer, somedays I'm in the middle of trying to drill a forehand winner down the line, some days I take a little more time to reflect on the words. Maybe today is a more reflective day.
Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.Your kingdom come; your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory. Forever and ever. Amen
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
After Vegas: After Parkland: After the next time?
I wrote the following after the Las Vegas shootings but in the end decided not to publish it. No particular reason, it just didn't seem appropriate at the time. I don't know why. But history has repeated itself and once again I fid myself looking in form the outside and asking the same questions. Something in me wants to let those within the USA who want to see change that they are not alone in the world.
It's been a few days since the awful tragedy in Las Vegas unfolded. Along with many of my fellow UK citizens, I remain somewhat dumbfounded by the continuing reluctance of a civilised society to change its attitude and its legal system with regard to the ownership of guns.
We don't challenge the US from the outside with some sense of superiority. We challenge because we don't understand how a nation can continue to be wedded to the idea that guns, and the apparent ease with which they can be acquired, are not a factor in these events. We listen to the arguments that guns don't kill people, people kill people and shake our heads. Why? Because we can't understand how other cannot see the simple logic that if you put a gun in someone's hand you increase the possibility of it being used.
The sad truth of it is that it appears to those of us on the outside that the nation is so entrenched in its defence of an amendment to its constitution that it's forgotten that it is an amendment and could be changed if there was the political will to do so. That's what amendments are. Changes. Alterations to improve or clarify. And surely by now everyone can see the need for clarification and change.
In 1996 Thomas Hamilton walked into a Primary school in Dunblane and killed 16 children and a teacher. As a nation we said, "No more, this has to change." We changed our law. There were some who raised objections, who questioned the knee-jerk response, but we made the change. We understood that he was unstable. We could have described him as 'sick and demented'. We could have called his actions 'pure evil'. We probably did. But then we acted.
From the outside it appears that the US has decided that the death of children is bearable (Sandy Hook) for the sake of retaining a freedom that looks more like an irresponsibility that it does a right. In the aftermath of what has been reported as the worst mass-killing in recent history, will the same attitude prevail?
Steve Turner, a Christian poet, once wrote:
History repeats itself.
Has to.
No one ever listens.
Is anyone listening now?
It's been a few days since the awful tragedy in Las Vegas unfolded. Along with many of my fellow UK citizens, I remain somewhat dumbfounded by the continuing reluctance of a civilised society to change its attitude and its legal system with regard to the ownership of guns.
We don't challenge the US from the outside with some sense of superiority. We challenge because we don't understand how a nation can continue to be wedded to the idea that guns, and the apparent ease with which they can be acquired, are not a factor in these events. We listen to the arguments that guns don't kill people, people kill people and shake our heads. Why? Because we can't understand how other cannot see the simple logic that if you put a gun in someone's hand you increase the possibility of it being used.
The sad truth of it is that it appears to those of us on the outside that the nation is so entrenched in its defence of an amendment to its constitution that it's forgotten that it is an amendment and could be changed if there was the political will to do so. That's what amendments are. Changes. Alterations to improve or clarify. And surely by now everyone can see the need for clarification and change.
In 1996 Thomas Hamilton walked into a Primary school in Dunblane and killed 16 children and a teacher. As a nation we said, "No more, this has to change." We changed our law. There were some who raised objections, who questioned the knee-jerk response, but we made the change. We understood that he was unstable. We could have described him as 'sick and demented'. We could have called his actions 'pure evil'. We probably did. But then we acted.
From the outside it appears that the US has decided that the death of children is bearable (Sandy Hook) for the sake of retaining a freedom that looks more like an irresponsibility that it does a right. In the aftermath of what has been reported as the worst mass-killing in recent history, will the same attitude prevail?
Steve Turner, a Christian poet, once wrote:
History repeats itself.
Has to.
No one ever listens.
Is anyone listening now?
Friday, January 19, 2018
For what it's worth
There are still times when I get quite angry about the events of 6 years ago. I still feel like I was misunderstood by my denomination and simply brushed aside. The ultimatum to either join a church or lose my accredited status failed, in my view, to express any sort of understanding of what we were going through. It seemed that the local church was more important. We were dispensable, replaceable. The local church wasn't. Therefore the local church took priority. And anyway, they were probably right and I was undoubtedly wrong.
That's how it felt. It's how it still feels if I spend too long thinking about it.
What brings it to the surface every now and then is usually a moment when I think about what I could have done differently if I'd behaved myself and continued to make more and more compromises and acquiesced to the demand to conform to a pattern of ministry that wasn't me and wasn't how I understood my call. I simply didn't fit and that wasn't acceptable.
I think it was the day someone told me that the way we were doing church was no longer something to which they felt they could invite their friends from the golf club that I realised it was time to walk away. So we did. Of course it wasn't that easy. We could have resigned, but that would have meant moving out of the house in 3 months whereas getting the church to terminate my ministry meant we could stay for 6 months. No pastoral care, just tick the boxes, meet the criteria. Ridiculous and hurtful because in many ways it reinforces the sense that it's your fault, you're the failure, you've done all the wrong.
It's been some time since I revisited all these feelings, but today I sat with someone talking through some of the issues they are facing. The 20 years of ministry that was cast aside 6 years ago leaves a positive mark too. Things that draw you into ministry don't go away just because you're no longer in a role that fits or doesn't as in my case. Perhaps what God saw in me he still sees. Perhaps the gifts and skills he gave me, gifts and skills he nurtured in me, are subtly at work for the kingdom still. Perhaps coaching and therapy are just alternative ways of expressing those things that have become part of a "landless" experience.
If I'm really honest I doubt very much that I will ever find my way back into a local church. There's one place where it might happen, but not yet, not now. I could arrange my time to make room for a monthly excursion, but why would I want to go back and do the very things that were wearing thin for me?
It was hard sitting and listening to someone pour out their troubles. It takes concentration and not a little effort to listen well and respond helpfully, occasionally offering a challenge or two. But it was a reminder that skills once learnt and practiced remain available, if a bit rusty and tarnished with neglect and lack of use.
The church is not the kingdom just as it is not the building nor the worship nor the Bible study group or the prayer meeting. I didn't promise my life to the organisation 40 odd years ago. I promised it to Jesus. It's still his. I may have left the church behind, I've never left the kingdom.
That's how it felt. It's how it still feels if I spend too long thinking about it.
What brings it to the surface every now and then is usually a moment when I think about what I could have done differently if I'd behaved myself and continued to make more and more compromises and acquiesced to the demand to conform to a pattern of ministry that wasn't me and wasn't how I understood my call. I simply didn't fit and that wasn't acceptable.
I think it was the day someone told me that the way we were doing church was no longer something to which they felt they could invite their friends from the golf club that I realised it was time to walk away. So we did. Of course it wasn't that easy. We could have resigned, but that would have meant moving out of the house in 3 months whereas getting the church to terminate my ministry meant we could stay for 6 months. No pastoral care, just tick the boxes, meet the criteria. Ridiculous and hurtful because in many ways it reinforces the sense that it's your fault, you're the failure, you've done all the wrong.
It's been some time since I revisited all these feelings, but today I sat with someone talking through some of the issues they are facing. The 20 years of ministry that was cast aside 6 years ago leaves a positive mark too. Things that draw you into ministry don't go away just because you're no longer in a role that fits or doesn't as in my case. Perhaps what God saw in me he still sees. Perhaps the gifts and skills he gave me, gifts and skills he nurtured in me, are subtly at work for the kingdom still. Perhaps coaching and therapy are just alternative ways of expressing those things that have become part of a "landless" experience.
If I'm really honest I doubt very much that I will ever find my way back into a local church. There's one place where it might happen, but not yet, not now. I could arrange my time to make room for a monthly excursion, but why would I want to go back and do the very things that were wearing thin for me?
It was hard sitting and listening to someone pour out their troubles. It takes concentration and not a little effort to listen well and respond helpfully, occasionally offering a challenge or two. But it was a reminder that skills once learnt and practiced remain available, if a bit rusty and tarnished with neglect and lack of use.
The church is not the kingdom just as it is not the building nor the worship nor the Bible study group or the prayer meeting. I didn't promise my life to the organisation 40 odd years ago. I promised it to Jesus. It's still his. I may have left the church behind, I've never left the kingdom.
Thursday, January 04, 2018
A Less "Civil" Society
Am I just getting less tolerant as I get older or are we becoming less and less civil? It's a question that I seem to be asking more and more as people around me (and by that I mean other drivers, shoppers and gym users) ignore simple courtesies and are absorbed in their own little worlds.
New technology doesn't seem to have helped. It annoys me when I see someone at the counter in a shop or at the till on their 'phone. The person behind the counter is deemed less important, or so it seems, than the buzzing and beeping smart 'phone that appears to be glued to the palm of their hand. Am I alone in asking permission from the shop assistant to take a call? Probably.
I get frustrated, and yes annoyed, when I stand aside to let someone through the door and they don't acknowledge it because they too busy on their 'phone or lost in their own little world, head encased in a large pair of headphones. It's just about all I can do hold back a muttered, "You're welcome," as I hold open a door and some ear-plugged, lycra coated gym bunny waltzes through without a smile or thank you in acknowledgement of my generous courtesy.
Of course there are still people who say thank you when you hold a door for them; who, despite being in the middle of a call, give you a nod or smile of appreciation because you step aside and let them pass. And I have a sneaking suspicion that there are more of these folk around than there are of the others, but I'm still bothered by it.
Even Siri and Alexa seem to encourage rudeness insofar as you no longer need to say please and thank you when you ask them to do something because why would you clutter your instructions with courtesy when you're only talking to an AI interface-"Alexa, play Jazz FM, please." Perhaps Apple and Amazon should add a parent-type voice that says things like, "What's the magic word?", "A thank you wouldn't go amiss", or "Who made me your slave!"
Being civil doesn't cost us anything except a moment of our time that says we noticed, we're grateful. That is, of course, unless cracking a smile is going to do irreparable damage to your fake tan or interrupt you busy social life sharing character assassinations of your closest friends.
New technology doesn't seem to have helped. It annoys me when I see someone at the counter in a shop or at the till on their 'phone. The person behind the counter is deemed less important, or so it seems, than the buzzing and beeping smart 'phone that appears to be glued to the palm of their hand. Am I alone in asking permission from the shop assistant to take a call? Probably.
I get frustrated, and yes annoyed, when I stand aside to let someone through the door and they don't acknowledge it because they too busy on their 'phone or lost in their own little world, head encased in a large pair of headphones. It's just about all I can do hold back a muttered, "You're welcome," as I hold open a door and some ear-plugged, lycra coated gym bunny waltzes through without a smile or thank you in acknowledgement of my generous courtesy.
Of course there are still people who say thank you when you hold a door for them; who, despite being in the middle of a call, give you a nod or smile of appreciation because you step aside and let them pass. And I have a sneaking suspicion that there are more of these folk around than there are of the others, but I'm still bothered by it.
Even Siri and Alexa seem to encourage rudeness insofar as you no longer need to say please and thank you when you ask them to do something because why would you clutter your instructions with courtesy when you're only talking to an AI interface-"Alexa, play Jazz FM, please." Perhaps Apple and Amazon should add a parent-type voice that says things like, "What's the magic word?", "A thank you wouldn't go amiss", or "Who made me your slave!"
Being civil doesn't cost us anything except a moment of our time that says we noticed, we're grateful. That is, of course, unless cracking a smile is going to do irreparable damage to your fake tan or interrupt you busy social life sharing character assassinations of your closest friends.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Setting some goals for 2017
To be honest, setting goals is far easier than achieving them. But then again, you knew that. For those who watched Red Dwarf, it's a bit like Arnold Rimmer's revision timetable. So much time and effort goes into a colour-coordinated, carefully planned timetable that there is actually no time left to do the revision so the timetable needs to to revised before work can begin. Round and round the circle Arnold goes!
Well, goal setting can be a bit like that. We can spend so much time working out our goals, making them "smart", visualising the outcomes, that we simply run out of time to get down to the real work. Perhaps there is a simpler way.
Maybe, having defined our goal, we should make a plan about how we are going to achieve it and then make ourselves accountable in some way for our progress. I think the hardest part of setting a goal comes in having a realistic assessment of where I am right now and understanding what I need to do to get to my goal from where I am.
In some areas this is probably easier than others, but just because it might be a little more difficult with your goal, doesn't mean it's not worth the effort of trying. My mindset was changed when I first came across Jim Collins (Good to Great) and heard him speak about the different measures needed in non-profit organisation compared to business when assessing progress. Almost everything can be measured in some way.
If you can measure progress then you can plan for progress. Or does that sound too cliche or simplistic? Perhaps it is. I know I can measure my consistency in tennis by counting the number of shots per rally or how many times I make one more ball than my practice partner or opponent. I can measure by discipline in reading by ticking books off a reading list or simply by how far I am through a book. Equally I can measure how regularly I'm using my journal by seeing how many pages are used, or more accurately how many daily entries are made.
So I know I can measure myself against my goal. But what determines my ability to reach my goal? Think about my tennis goal for a moment. It's quite simple: Win a graded tournament match. Some of the things that will determine whether I reach my goal or not are in my hands, some are not. I can, generally speaking, control my practice. I can apply myself to practice and development. I can even try listening to my coach! I can't control injuries (although I can do everything possible to be well conditioned). I can't control the draw. If I get a seeded player in the first round at each tournament, I'm going to struggle. I can choose the tournament. I can be the best prepared I can be. I can't control whether I play my best tennis on a given day or not.
If you're setting as goal, then you need to think about those things that impact your ability to reach your goal. You may have to accept that something will come a long that will disrupt your plan. If you've thought about it beforehand, you will be better prepared to deal with it when it arises.
In the end the goal is just the end product of the journey. Not reaching the goal is not total failure. I've had the same tennis goal for several years now. In fact I'm not sure what I'll do if I actually manage to achieve it! I have won a few matches, but interestingly the ones I've won don't "count" in quite the same way as the one I'm after. But that's a whole other topic!
Here's the interesting thing. This simple goal of winning a tournament match keeps me focussed and disciplined about practice. As I hit 60 this year, I'm still committed to working as hard as I can to reach this goal. It might never come, but without it turning up to the lung busting, heart pounding, joint aching practice sessions would be pointless. So I practice to reach my goal, but my goal keeps me practicing and persevering.
Well, goal setting can be a bit like that. We can spend so much time working out our goals, making them "smart", visualising the outcomes, that we simply run out of time to get down to the real work. Perhaps there is a simpler way.
Maybe, having defined our goal, we should make a plan about how we are going to achieve it and then make ourselves accountable in some way for our progress. I think the hardest part of setting a goal comes in having a realistic assessment of where I am right now and understanding what I need to do to get to my goal from where I am.
In some areas this is probably easier than others, but just because it might be a little more difficult with your goal, doesn't mean it's not worth the effort of trying. My mindset was changed when I first came across Jim Collins (Good to Great) and heard him speak about the different measures needed in non-profit organisation compared to business when assessing progress. Almost everything can be measured in some way.
If you can measure progress then you can plan for progress. Or does that sound too cliche or simplistic? Perhaps it is. I know I can measure my consistency in tennis by counting the number of shots per rally or how many times I make one more ball than my practice partner or opponent. I can measure by discipline in reading by ticking books off a reading list or simply by how far I am through a book. Equally I can measure how regularly I'm using my journal by seeing how many pages are used, or more accurately how many daily entries are made.
So I know I can measure myself against my goal. But what determines my ability to reach my goal? Think about my tennis goal for a moment. It's quite simple: Win a graded tournament match. Some of the things that will determine whether I reach my goal or not are in my hands, some are not. I can, generally speaking, control my practice. I can apply myself to practice and development. I can even try listening to my coach! I can't control injuries (although I can do everything possible to be well conditioned). I can't control the draw. If I get a seeded player in the first round at each tournament, I'm going to struggle. I can choose the tournament. I can be the best prepared I can be. I can't control whether I play my best tennis on a given day or not.
If you're setting as goal, then you need to think about those things that impact your ability to reach your goal. You may have to accept that something will come a long that will disrupt your plan. If you've thought about it beforehand, you will be better prepared to deal with it when it arises.
In the end the goal is just the end product of the journey. Not reaching the goal is not total failure. I've had the same tennis goal for several years now. In fact I'm not sure what I'll do if I actually manage to achieve it! I have won a few matches, but interestingly the ones I've won don't "count" in quite the same way as the one I'm after. But that's a whole other topic!
Here's the interesting thing. This simple goal of winning a tournament match keeps me focussed and disciplined about practice. As I hit 60 this year, I'm still committed to working as hard as I can to reach this goal. It might never come, but without it turning up to the lung busting, heart pounding, joint aching practice sessions would be pointless. So I practice to reach my goal, but my goal keeps me practicing and persevering.
Friday, November 25, 2016
Oh no. It's nearly Christmas!
I must confess, Christmas is not one of my favourite times of the year. I know there are plenty of people who get really excited, look forward to the possibility of snow and can't wait to drag a tree into the house and cover it in tinsel and other assorted decorations. Not me. Sorry.
Having got that out in the open, the reason for writing this post is how we handle the story of Father Christmas. I read a short piece in the paper the other day about an article in a medical journal by two psychiatrists about the dangers of the Santa narrative in a post-truth world. Now it may have passed you by, but 'post-truth' is the word of the year for 2016. In a nutshell, post-truth is about discovering that we've been lied to about something and then in turn distrusting facts in favour of emotions when we make choices like whether to stay in the EU or elect a President. As a side note there was an interesting interview with Trevor Noah on the Today programme (Radio 4's morning news and current affairs programme) this morning about the Trump victory. If it's available on iPlayer it might be worth a listen.
Anyway, back to Santa and post-truth problems. The problem, according to the article comes when our children discover that the story isn't all we've been telling them. You get the drift without giving anyway any secrets! The argument follows: if our parents lied about that, then what else have they lied about? Can we really trust anything anyone tells us? This in itself presents a problem, but there's another issue with the traditional Father Christmas story. Only well-behaved children with a 12 month track record of being good will get presents and then only according to the disposable income of their parents. Apparently Santa is more of a capitalist than we might have first thought. Christmas, it turns out, is a meritocracy.
Now, let's shift tack for a moment and think about how we handle Christmas as Christian parents. What do we do with Santa? I never bought into the whole "Jesus is the reason for the season" mantra. He's the reason we celebrate, but that's because we redeemed a celebration rather than established one. We offered a new story, an alternative view of the world. Something we'd do well to remember. But we live with these two stories, the Jesus born in poverty and obscurity offering hope and redemption to anyone who wants it, and Santa, an all-seeing, judgmental old man who might have a jolly smile but who's been monitoring your behaviour all year round and will reward you accordingly.
Perhaps we need to set about redeeming Christmas again. Not in terms of putting Christ at the heart of it, but reframing Father Christmas in a narrative of grace that might allow us to move from that story to the gospel in a better way. What if Santa came and blessed you with a gift despite your past record? What if the point of his gift was to let you know that you were not forgotten, despite the evidence of your situation or circumstance?If my hazy memory of the St Nicholas story is anything to go by then this is closer that the "naughty or nice" narrative of more recent times.
As Christians, particularly as Evangelical Christians, we can struggle with these things. But what if we looked at them from a perspective that was rooted in grace and not just winning a doctrinal argument. Maybe that would mean we wouldn't have to face the post-truth questions quite as much.
My favourite Christmas service I was ever involved with came pretty early in our ministry days. We were in Newark and I came up with the idea to explore a conversation Jesus and Father Christmas might have had. I don't remember the details. I know they talked about how it felt to be thought about only once a year, to be expected to perform to amuse or convince people of their identity.
If I were doing it again this year maybe we'd try and work a more redeeming angle. Let Christmas be about getting what you haven't earned and what you don't deserve.
Having got that out in the open, the reason for writing this post is how we handle the story of Father Christmas. I read a short piece in the paper the other day about an article in a medical journal by two psychiatrists about the dangers of the Santa narrative in a post-truth world. Now it may have passed you by, but 'post-truth' is the word of the year for 2016. In a nutshell, post-truth is about discovering that we've been lied to about something and then in turn distrusting facts in favour of emotions when we make choices like whether to stay in the EU or elect a President. As a side note there was an interesting interview with Trevor Noah on the Today programme (Radio 4's morning news and current affairs programme) this morning about the Trump victory. If it's available on iPlayer it might be worth a listen.
Anyway, back to Santa and post-truth problems. The problem, according to the article comes when our children discover that the story isn't all we've been telling them. You get the drift without giving anyway any secrets! The argument follows: if our parents lied about that, then what else have they lied about? Can we really trust anything anyone tells us? This in itself presents a problem, but there's another issue with the traditional Father Christmas story. Only well-behaved children with a 12 month track record of being good will get presents and then only according to the disposable income of their parents. Apparently Santa is more of a capitalist than we might have first thought. Christmas, it turns out, is a meritocracy.
Now, let's shift tack for a moment and think about how we handle Christmas as Christian parents. What do we do with Santa? I never bought into the whole "Jesus is the reason for the season" mantra. He's the reason we celebrate, but that's because we redeemed a celebration rather than established one. We offered a new story, an alternative view of the world. Something we'd do well to remember. But we live with these two stories, the Jesus born in poverty and obscurity offering hope and redemption to anyone who wants it, and Santa, an all-seeing, judgmental old man who might have a jolly smile but who's been monitoring your behaviour all year round and will reward you accordingly.
Perhaps we need to set about redeeming Christmas again. Not in terms of putting Christ at the heart of it, but reframing Father Christmas in a narrative of grace that might allow us to move from that story to the gospel in a better way. What if Santa came and blessed you with a gift despite your past record? What if the point of his gift was to let you know that you were not forgotten, despite the evidence of your situation or circumstance?If my hazy memory of the St Nicholas story is anything to go by then this is closer that the "naughty or nice" narrative of more recent times.
As Christians, particularly as Evangelical Christians, we can struggle with these things. But what if we looked at them from a perspective that was rooted in grace and not just winning a doctrinal argument. Maybe that would mean we wouldn't have to face the post-truth questions quite as much.
My favourite Christmas service I was ever involved with came pretty early in our ministry days. We were in Newark and I came up with the idea to explore a conversation Jesus and Father Christmas might have had. I don't remember the details. I know they talked about how it felt to be thought about only once a year, to be expected to perform to amuse or convince people of their identity.
If I were doing it again this year maybe we'd try and work a more redeeming angle. Let Christmas be about getting what you haven't earned and what you don't deserve.
Tuesday, November 01, 2016
Halloween: An unresolved question for the church?
Another Halloween passed us by without any knocks on the door. It helps when you're not at home, but that's not really the point! We've gone through various phases over the years. We've done the "We don't do this" phase, we've done the "Do you know what you're doing" phase and we've had sweets ready to give away too. All bases covered there then.
But it was a short conversation between two kids in one of the tennis squads I coach that caught my ear yesterday and started me thinking about our response to the 21st Century approach to October 31st. One of the kids must have asked a question about what another was doing for Halloween. An innocent enough question probably. The response of the other kid was short and to the point, "I'm a Christian. We don't do Halloween."
"We don't do Halloween." What exactly does that mean? Okay, so I can work that one out, but it just made me stop for a moment and wonder whether we're focussing on the right things when we teach our children to respond with what we don't do.
Of course there are times when "We don't do" is the right response, the correct approach. But is it always the case? Can we not offer an alternative, a fuller explanation. We don't want to be the people that offer a full explanation of the origins of the celebrations and the inaccuracies of current trends, but our children deserve to have our reasons better explained.
I'm not sure where I stand these days when it comes to deciding whether Halloween is just harmless fun or something more sinister. The commercialised and sanitised version of a festival that lines the supermarket shelves and ultimately someone's pockets is far removed from anything religious or spiritual. Perhaps some use it to celebrate stuff that is spiritually dangerous, but for most that's surely not the case.
There are times, or so to seems, that we are too concerned about the influence the world might have on us rather than the influence we might have on the world. I'm not sure that dressing up as a skeleton or a zombie is necessarily going to desensitise us to the very real presence of evil in our world and neither is it going to usher in some dark malevolent force. Tell me, is trick or treating a worse evil than abandoning migrant children in Calais? Does one lead to the other? Life and ethics are far more complicated than a simple linear cause and effect philosophy allows.
But whatever your view might be, what alternative do we offer? I'm not suggesting we have alternative parties, or maybe even go door to door offering sweets, giving something away. And anyway, would you trust someone who turned up at your door and said, "Would you like some free sweets?" No. I'm just concerned that we provide our children with a better explanation, a better response than simply, "We're Christians. We don't do Halloween."
Of course the interesting thing is that the kid asking the question just accepted the answer and we all moved on to the next drill. Perhaps I'm worrying too much!
But it was a short conversation between two kids in one of the tennis squads I coach that caught my ear yesterday and started me thinking about our response to the 21st Century approach to October 31st. One of the kids must have asked a question about what another was doing for Halloween. An innocent enough question probably. The response of the other kid was short and to the point, "I'm a Christian. We don't do Halloween."
"We don't do Halloween." What exactly does that mean? Okay, so I can work that one out, but it just made me stop for a moment and wonder whether we're focussing on the right things when we teach our children to respond with what we don't do.
Of course there are times when "We don't do" is the right response, the correct approach. But is it always the case? Can we not offer an alternative, a fuller explanation. We don't want to be the people that offer a full explanation of the origins of the celebrations and the inaccuracies of current trends, but our children deserve to have our reasons better explained.
I'm not sure where I stand these days when it comes to deciding whether Halloween is just harmless fun or something more sinister. The commercialised and sanitised version of a festival that lines the supermarket shelves and ultimately someone's pockets is far removed from anything religious or spiritual. Perhaps some use it to celebrate stuff that is spiritually dangerous, but for most that's surely not the case.
There are times, or so to seems, that we are too concerned about the influence the world might have on us rather than the influence we might have on the world. I'm not sure that dressing up as a skeleton or a zombie is necessarily going to desensitise us to the very real presence of evil in our world and neither is it going to usher in some dark malevolent force. Tell me, is trick or treating a worse evil than abandoning migrant children in Calais? Does one lead to the other? Life and ethics are far more complicated than a simple linear cause and effect philosophy allows.
But whatever your view might be, what alternative do we offer? I'm not suggesting we have alternative parties, or maybe even go door to door offering sweets, giving something away. And anyway, would you trust someone who turned up at your door and said, "Would you like some free sweets?" No. I'm just concerned that we provide our children with a better explanation, a better response than simply, "We're Christians. We don't do Halloween."
Of course the interesting thing is that the kid asking the question just accepted the answer and we all moved on to the next drill. Perhaps I'm worrying too much!
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Has God's will been done?
This is another old draft post that never saw the light of day at the time of writing, but it's either time to delete it or publish it and I've chosen to do the latter. It's far from a complete analysis or thought out presentation, but it is where my mind found itself at the time.
It's now four months on from the referendum, so although that was the initial focus of my thoughts I hope enough time has passed that if we end up with a discussion about anything, it's about how we understand the will of God and not what we feel about the vote.
In the aftermath of the referendum vote there are going to be many more politically and economically significant questions to be resolved that the theological ones concerning the idea of God's will. But for those of us who share a faith perspective, the theological questions remain (no pun intended).
Now I think it's important that we don't get drawn into some pointless debate about where this all stands in relation to the "end times". It's tough enough working out how to live in a way that honours God in the present without having to worry about the shape of things to come at the same time!
My concern is what I see as the sometimes deterministic view that appears to link the will of God with the sovereignty of God in an unhelpful way. At it's most simple I would argue that these two are quite separate. Let me explain.
To acknowledge that God is sovereign is to believe that he is ultimately in control. Maybe better still, it's to believe that nothing happens that he doesn't know about. It's actually quite hard to define without slipping towards some form of determinism that might suggest that God does in fact control everything and that nothing that happens happens without his direct involvement and decision.
God's will, however, is not the same as his sovereignty. And with that we slip into dangerous waters too. Dangerous because we are now in the realms of concepts like the permissive will of God, God's plan for my life, free will, can I miss God's will, am I living "second best", etc etc. And let's not forget God's sovereign will!
Something like the referendum challenges some of our perspectives. If we've prayed that God's will is done and the vote comes in, irrespective of it's outcome, do we assume that somehow God's will has been done? Does that stand up to Biblical scrutiny? Put it another way, just because we've prayed, does that necessarily mean that the outcome must be God's will? You see the difficulty.
This is why I've used the word deterministic earlier. It's the assumption that one thing follows another as cause and effect, but to do that with our prayers and God's will is surely a reductionist view of how our relationship with God works and how prayer and the will of God interact. Think about the conundrum of the story of Adam and Eve. Was it God's will that they broke his one rule, or was it his will that they remain in the garden, learning and growing spiritually to maturity.
Personally I don't think our membership of the EU comes under God's will in quite the absolute way some people appear to think it does. We change governments regularly, does that suggest that God's will for our nation shifts from red to blue politically too? Of course not. At it's most simple God's will is that we do right things in right ways. No one political ideology has a monopoly on that.
It's now four months on from the referendum, so although that was the initial focus of my thoughts I hope enough time has passed that if we end up with a discussion about anything, it's about how we understand the will of God and not what we feel about the vote.
In the aftermath of the referendum vote there are going to be many more politically and economically significant questions to be resolved that the theological ones concerning the idea of God's will. But for those of us who share a faith perspective, the theological questions remain (no pun intended).
Now I think it's important that we don't get drawn into some pointless debate about where this all stands in relation to the "end times". It's tough enough working out how to live in a way that honours God in the present without having to worry about the shape of things to come at the same time!
My concern is what I see as the sometimes deterministic view that appears to link the will of God with the sovereignty of God in an unhelpful way. At it's most simple I would argue that these two are quite separate. Let me explain.
To acknowledge that God is sovereign is to believe that he is ultimately in control. Maybe better still, it's to believe that nothing happens that he doesn't know about. It's actually quite hard to define without slipping towards some form of determinism that might suggest that God does in fact control everything and that nothing that happens happens without his direct involvement and decision.
God's will, however, is not the same as his sovereignty. And with that we slip into dangerous waters too. Dangerous because we are now in the realms of concepts like the permissive will of God, God's plan for my life, free will, can I miss God's will, am I living "second best", etc etc. And let's not forget God's sovereign will!
Something like the referendum challenges some of our perspectives. If we've prayed that God's will is done and the vote comes in, irrespective of it's outcome, do we assume that somehow God's will has been done? Does that stand up to Biblical scrutiny? Put it another way, just because we've prayed, does that necessarily mean that the outcome must be God's will? You see the difficulty.
This is why I've used the word deterministic earlier. It's the assumption that one thing follows another as cause and effect, but to do that with our prayers and God's will is surely a reductionist view of how our relationship with God works and how prayer and the will of God interact. Think about the conundrum of the story of Adam and Eve. Was it God's will that they broke his one rule, or was it his will that they remain in the garden, learning and growing spiritually to maturity.
Personally I don't think our membership of the EU comes under God's will in quite the absolute way some people appear to think it does. We change governments regularly, does that suggest that God's will for our nation shifts from red to blue politically too? Of course not. At it's most simple God's will is that we do right things in right ways. No one political ideology has a monopoly on that.
Thinking about sabbaticals!
It's funny how things pop up now and again that prod you into action or simply generate a memory. It can be either positive or negative, you never know until it happens.
Having not written anything for months, not that there hasn't been stuff about which to write, I checked my account to see a "comment awaiting moderation". This is usually because someone has found my old post about my index to Songs of Fellowship, but not this time. This time it was a comment on an old post from 2008 about my impending sabbatical. If I'd done something different or not even bothered with the sabbatical, would things have turned out differently? I'm not sure and there's little point speculating about it now. It's enough to say that decisions were made that set the chain of events in motion that brought us here to this point and time and place.
It's interesting to think that it is 8 years since I had a sabbatical. Of course I'm one of the privileged few who got to take sabbaticals in the first place. Most people go through their whole working lives without ever getting the chance to take a prolonged period of time out to reflect or do some piece of research or simply do something completely different. Imagine how your life might change, how your view of the world could change or even your view of yourself if you could spend three months working overseas or in a shelter or reading? I wonder what some of our companies would look like if CEO's spent some time on the shop floor or if editors of certain newspapers spent a little time with refugees.
I can't imagine being able to take the time out for another sabbatical. If I were still in full-time ministry I'd have been overdue another break, but self-employment makes it hard. On the other hand, it's not beyond me to make the most of my flexible schedule and invest some time in doing some of those things a sabbatical gives you the opportunity to pursue.
Years ago, and I do mean years, I remember taking out a sheet of A4 and writing down everything I was doing and trying to put a timescale against. Was it something that was short term, medium term of long term? Did it have an end date? Then I wrote down the things I wanted to do and how long I though that would take. Then came the challenge of working the two lists together. That was difficult, but it enabled me to do two things at that particular time. One was completing a distance learning course to improve my counselling skills, the other was handing over some tasks and ministry things to others in order to free up time to concentrate in other areas.
I never produced anything academically worthwhile during my sabbaticals. I rarely read new stuff because I was always reading new stuff anyway. A sabbatical was a chance to switch off from some of that. Now, it's very different. Any sabbatical time will be very much shorter, a week maybe two at the most. Most people call them holidays! A rest, a change of scene, both great ingredients for a mini-sabbatical.
Perhaps I need a plan, perhaps I should write a guide on how to take a mini-sabbatical. I feel a self-help book emerging.
Having not written anything for months, not that there hasn't been stuff about which to write, I checked my account to see a "comment awaiting moderation". This is usually because someone has found my old post about my index to Songs of Fellowship, but not this time. This time it was a comment on an old post from 2008 about my impending sabbatical. If I'd done something different or not even bothered with the sabbatical, would things have turned out differently? I'm not sure and there's little point speculating about it now. It's enough to say that decisions were made that set the chain of events in motion that brought us here to this point and time and place.
It's interesting to think that it is 8 years since I had a sabbatical. Of course I'm one of the privileged few who got to take sabbaticals in the first place. Most people go through their whole working lives without ever getting the chance to take a prolonged period of time out to reflect or do some piece of research or simply do something completely different. Imagine how your life might change, how your view of the world could change or even your view of yourself if you could spend three months working overseas or in a shelter or reading? I wonder what some of our companies would look like if CEO's spent some time on the shop floor or if editors of certain newspapers spent a little time with refugees.
I can't imagine being able to take the time out for another sabbatical. If I were still in full-time ministry I'd have been overdue another break, but self-employment makes it hard. On the other hand, it's not beyond me to make the most of my flexible schedule and invest some time in doing some of those things a sabbatical gives you the opportunity to pursue.
Years ago, and I do mean years, I remember taking out a sheet of A4 and writing down everything I was doing and trying to put a timescale against. Was it something that was short term, medium term of long term? Did it have an end date? Then I wrote down the things I wanted to do and how long I though that would take. Then came the challenge of working the two lists together. That was difficult, but it enabled me to do two things at that particular time. One was completing a distance learning course to improve my counselling skills, the other was handing over some tasks and ministry things to others in order to free up time to concentrate in other areas.
I never produced anything academically worthwhile during my sabbaticals. I rarely read new stuff because I was always reading new stuff anyway. A sabbatical was a chance to switch off from some of that. Now, it's very different. Any sabbatical time will be very much shorter, a week maybe two at the most. Most people call them holidays! A rest, a change of scene, both great ingredients for a mini-sabbatical.
Perhaps I need a plan, perhaps I should write a guide on how to take a mini-sabbatical. I feel a self-help book emerging.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
A Little Facebook Conversation
I was once described as being ruthlessly committed to the doctrine of grace. Rather nice I thought and it was meant positively too. Grace trumps everything. Grace means you can look at another person and bless them even when they tear you apart. Grace means you can see in others the struggle to live in a context of faith even when they appear to be messing stuff up. This is neither being delusional about sin nor unwilling to address it and discipline it when appropriate. Grace is not a way of avoid ing conflict.
Some people lack grace, to state the obvious. some express their faith through generating conflict in the name of truth. Convinced of their absolute rightness in all things, they quickly condemn or call out others. I recently had a very short Facebook conversation with someone that illustrates this. Now normally I follow the advice that goes something like: Remember, it's actually possible to read something on Facebook with which you profoundly disagree, ignore it, and move on with your life. Experience tells us that getting into an online debate is often pointless and people rarely change their minds. But sometimes it's important to engage and express a contrary perspective, even if it's only to keep the conversation honest. Anyway, here's the statement to which I rose the other day:
Okay, so I probably wasn't as gracious as I could have been. Do you think they spotted the sarcasm in my last response?
I guess the question I struggle with is whether it's actually worth the effort to engage with such theological naivety. Sometimes it is because at least that puts another perspective into the comments and one would hope encourages others to engage their brains. One can but hope.
All the time these simplistic pronouncements are made about who is right and who is wrong; who is going to heaven and who is not; who is a cult and who is not, the mission of God is left unattended as we focus our attention on who we think should be excluded rather than upon God's great desire for who he wants included.
Some people lack grace, to state the obvious. some express their faith through generating conflict in the name of truth. Convinced of their absolute rightness in all things, they quickly condemn or call out others. I recently had a very short Facebook conversation with someone that illustrates this. Now normally I follow the advice that goes something like: Remember, it's actually possible to read something on Facebook with which you profoundly disagree, ignore it, and move on with your life. Experience tells us that getting into an online debate is often pointless and people rarely change their minds. But sometimes it's important to engage and express a contrary perspective, even if it's only to keep the conversation honest. Anyway, here's the statement to which I rose the other day:
Standing face to face with these false teachers, Jesus Christ the Son of God, called them "hypocrites", "blind guides, " "blind, " "whited sepulchres, " "serpents, " and "generation of vipers" (Matt. 23:23-34). Yet, we are told today that we are to fellowship with men whose doctrines are just as unscriptural as those of the Pharisees. Some who say they are Bible believing Christians insist on working with Roman Catholics and other assorted heretics. Yet, according to many, we are not supposed to rebuke them for their compromise. We are to MARK them and AVOID them. "Now I beseech you, brethren, mark them which cause divisions and offences contrary to the doctrine which ye have learned; and avoid them " (Rom. 16:17). Those whose conduct and teaching contradicts the Word of God are to be marked and to be avoided. This requires discernment and judgment in the light of the Bible.Here's my response:
I'm not sure I really want to get involved in this petty debate, but a friend of mine posted it and I do feel that there are unanswered questions and issues that need to be thought through. I'm concerned that the original author seems to assume that simply quoting Scripture is equivalent to declaring truth. That's a dangerous stand to take. Think about it for a moment and you will realise that a verse quoted out of context can be a dangerous thing. Secondly, who are all the other assorted heretics? Are charismatics heretics because they accept the use of gifts or are those who are cessasionist heretics because they don't? Are the Seventh Day Adventists heretics because they choose to worship on a Saturday rather than a Sunday? Are Methodists heretics because they practice infant baptism rather than believers baptism? What about those who hold a pre, post or a-millenial view of the end times? Who are the heretics and who are orthodox? How about the role of women in leadership or the practice of ordination? How about Calvinist and Armenians? Once you start down the road of being the only one who tells the truth, everyone else becomes a heretic. Do you think that the primary focus of the Kingdom of God is to dot the i's and cross the t's of orthodox doctrine or to populate heaven? I'm not really expecting a response, in fact I'm not sure I even want one! I'm not going to get into a tit-for-tat debate. I just wanted to suggest that some thinking needs to be done.I didn't expect the reaction to be "Oh, gosh, you're right. How could I have been so narrow-minded and arrogant. Thank you for pointing that out, I'll rethink my attitudes." This was their response:
We do not use scripture out of context. We can back up with scripture why the cults we call out are indeed cults. If your preferred cult is among them let us show you the truth according to the word of God in His one true book.I'm somewhat intrigued by the idea of a "preferred cult". I wonder what the writer would have to say if he actually knew my background and experience, not that that makes me immune to error of course. I might just be an heretical theologian after all! Anyway, I thought a short snappy reply was in order and wondered if the injection of a little humour might help. Okay, so a little sarcasm.
I have a sneaky suspicion that you are going to be terribly disappointed at who God allows into heaven. Perhaps you need to have a quiet word with him just to be sure he's on the right track. I would hate for him to make a mistake! Btw, I've never given the idea of a preferred cult much thought. How does being vegetarian sound?I got no further response!
Okay, so I probably wasn't as gracious as I could have been. Do you think they spotted the sarcasm in my last response?
I guess the question I struggle with is whether it's actually worth the effort to engage with such theological naivety. Sometimes it is because at least that puts another perspective into the comments and one would hope encourages others to engage their brains. One can but hope.
All the time these simplistic pronouncements are made about who is right and who is wrong; who is going to heaven and who is not; who is a cult and who is not, the mission of God is left unattended as we focus our attention on who we think should be excluded rather than upon God's great desire for who he wants included.
Thursday, September 01, 2016
The agony of faith
I started writing this post some time ago when yet another picture appeared on Facebook declaring that "religion" was the cause of all the violence in the world perpetrated by terrorists. I find myself wanting to shout back that it's simply not true and that if only people would stop and think for a minute then they wouldn't post such inane and stupid stuff. But I won't do that because I'm caught between personal outrage and the reductionist perspective at work and the desire to be "full of grace". I'm desperate for people to discover the grace of God for themselves and winning arguments over petty mudslinging memes is not the way. Perhaps this commitment to grace and desire to find a way to point people to God is what creates the agony of faith that I seem to experience.
I've been contemplating writing some reflections on the Psalms and calling them The Agony of Faith. It's an idea that has been in my head for a while. Agony because if anyone tells you being a person of faith is easy and comfortable, then I'm either seriously lacking something or their experience is not rooted in the same world as is mine.
I find faith hard. Not necessarily believing, but just making sense of life sometimes. Faith is not easy. I get angry too. Angry at the way faith is often portrayed as a crutch for the weak-minded, or an opt-out for those who are less enlightened.
I find myself angry at the portrayal of faith as the root of the world's problems as if terrorism never had a home in political ideology. I grew up in the 20th century. A time when left and right wing politics resulted in millions of deaths. But no one seems to remember that when someone using their faith as an excuse detonates a bomb in a crowded market. I remember planes being downed, pubs being blown up, hostages taken (and sometimes killed), all in the name of revolution or communism or supporting some right wing dictatorship. Faith does not have a monopoly on fanaticism. If you want an example, think about Stalin's purges or the Khmer Rouge. How about the genocide in Rwanda or the ethnic cleansing in the Balkans.
If that is not enough, the triumphalism and selfishness of some expressions of 21st century faith also get me down. Do I really need to "feel" God's presence in order for it to have been a good worship experience? Exactly what does it feel like anyway? I remember preaching a sermon once based around the idea that worship was always an appropriate response irrespective of the circumstances. It is never a case of worship when you feel something.
So faith is hard. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It's open to misinterpretation as well as misrepresentation. We get things wrong. When I read my Bible I read about struggles as well as triumphs, mistakes as well as successes. When someone tells me they can't believe in God because of all the bad stuff that happens and because of all the unanswered questions or because of things that simply make no sense, I understand. As for me, it can only ever make sense if God exists because that means there is someone to answer for it, some to address the the basic question we have: Why?
I've been contemplating writing some reflections on the Psalms and calling them The Agony of Faith. It's an idea that has been in my head for a while. Agony because if anyone tells you being a person of faith is easy and comfortable, then I'm either seriously lacking something or their experience is not rooted in the same world as is mine.
I find faith hard. Not necessarily believing, but just making sense of life sometimes. Faith is not easy. I get angry too. Angry at the way faith is often portrayed as a crutch for the weak-minded, or an opt-out for those who are less enlightened.
I find myself angry at the portrayal of faith as the root of the world's problems as if terrorism never had a home in political ideology. I grew up in the 20th century. A time when left and right wing politics resulted in millions of deaths. But no one seems to remember that when someone using their faith as an excuse detonates a bomb in a crowded market. I remember planes being downed, pubs being blown up, hostages taken (and sometimes killed), all in the name of revolution or communism or supporting some right wing dictatorship. Faith does not have a monopoly on fanaticism. If you want an example, think about Stalin's purges or the Khmer Rouge. How about the genocide in Rwanda or the ethnic cleansing in the Balkans.
If that is not enough, the triumphalism and selfishness of some expressions of 21st century faith also get me down. Do I really need to "feel" God's presence in order for it to have been a good worship experience? Exactly what does it feel like anyway? I remember preaching a sermon once based around the idea that worship was always an appropriate response irrespective of the circumstances. It is never a case of worship when you feel something.
So faith is hard. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It's open to misinterpretation as well as misrepresentation. We get things wrong. When I read my Bible I read about struggles as well as triumphs, mistakes as well as successes. When someone tells me they can't believe in God because of all the bad stuff that happens and because of all the unanswered questions or because of things that simply make no sense, I understand. As for me, it can only ever make sense if God exists because that means there is someone to answer for it, some to address the the basic question we have: Why?
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Too many Pastor-Teachers in Leadership?
I've been doing some reflecting recently and some thinking about the future too. In fact we both have. Being busy can get in the way of planning the "what next" stage of life to the point where you suddenly find yourself in your own future without any real idea how you got there. That sound pretentiously profound to me, but the point is that you can just drift into things and it's good to stop every so often and do some reflecting and thinking. So that's what we're doing.
We wouldn't be giving away anything by saying that eventually we will probably move back to Bedford. Ally and David seemed settled there and it was probably the place we felt most at home during the 20 years of moving around the country as manse family. The question is more a when rather than an if. Of course it brings up all sort of other questions, mainly about where exactly we would look to live. But there's more to it than that.
We spent 8 years in Cotton End serving the church there. We learnt so much during that time and explored so many things. I still can't quite get my head around how willing the church family were to experiment and grapple with new ideas and opportunities. Moving away was quite a wrench. The next 2 years would turn out to be both the most difficult and challenging 2 years, and they would also mark the end of full-time ministry for us. What we did learn in that period was the God was challenging us and shaping us in quite a different way and that the legacy model of church was no longer a sustainable model for us. That isn't to say that it can't work, it's just that we could no longer do what was required. Okay, so I never could do what was required, I simply wasn't wired up to fulfil that sort of of role.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I think too many of our churches, yes I still see myself as part of the church, are lead by pastors. Looking at Paul's leadership traits in Ephesians it strikes me that too many pastor-teachers (if you want to combine the roles) lead churches. These good folk have all the skills and gifts to get alongside people, to comfort them, guide them, teach them and encourage them. The church needs them. But does it need them to be the primary leaders?
When you look at Paul's list you have to ask where are the apostles and prophets and evangelists? Church leadership is a multi-faceted process. It needs all of these gifts. Perhaps the problem is that we've elevated pastor-teacher above the rest and in so doing have actually done the church a dis-service. I think we've also excluded many good leaders because they don't have those pastor-teacher skills.
I'm not saying that a pastor-teacher can't have vision or can't be an effective leader. I just think we've missed out on so much by promoting one dimension of leadership to ordained office at the relegation of others. When we only put a pastor-teacher in charge, then we get the same result every time. We get legacy model church because that's what legacy model church looks like. It's pastor-teacher lead. It meets on Sundays and does worship. It produces Bible study notes for house groups. All good things, but not all that the church is called to be. Apostles and prophets and evangelists are are pain in the side of the legacy model of church because they see something different. We need the pain. We need leaders who aren't necessarily gifted pastorally or even as great teachers but who see things differently.
If the church is ever really to leave the building then it will be because visionaries and pioneers, the apostles and prophets and evangelists, will take us there. The pastor-teachers will still be important, but they won't be leading the charge.
We wouldn't be giving away anything by saying that eventually we will probably move back to Bedford. Ally and David seemed settled there and it was probably the place we felt most at home during the 20 years of moving around the country as manse family. The question is more a when rather than an if. Of course it brings up all sort of other questions, mainly about where exactly we would look to live. But there's more to it than that.
We spent 8 years in Cotton End serving the church there. We learnt so much during that time and explored so many things. I still can't quite get my head around how willing the church family were to experiment and grapple with new ideas and opportunities. Moving away was quite a wrench. The next 2 years would turn out to be both the most difficult and challenging 2 years, and they would also mark the end of full-time ministry for us. What we did learn in that period was the God was challenging us and shaping us in quite a different way and that the legacy model of church was no longer a sustainable model for us. That isn't to say that it can't work, it's just that we could no longer do what was required. Okay, so I never could do what was required, I simply wasn't wired up to fulfil that sort of of role.
Which brings me to the point of this post. I think too many of our churches, yes I still see myself as part of the church, are lead by pastors. Looking at Paul's leadership traits in Ephesians it strikes me that too many pastor-teachers (if you want to combine the roles) lead churches. These good folk have all the skills and gifts to get alongside people, to comfort them, guide them, teach them and encourage them. The church needs them. But does it need them to be the primary leaders?
When you look at Paul's list you have to ask where are the apostles and prophets and evangelists? Church leadership is a multi-faceted process. It needs all of these gifts. Perhaps the problem is that we've elevated pastor-teacher above the rest and in so doing have actually done the church a dis-service. I think we've also excluded many good leaders because they don't have those pastor-teacher skills.
I'm not saying that a pastor-teacher can't have vision or can't be an effective leader. I just think we've missed out on so much by promoting one dimension of leadership to ordained office at the relegation of others. When we only put a pastor-teacher in charge, then we get the same result every time. We get legacy model church because that's what legacy model church looks like. It's pastor-teacher lead. It meets on Sundays and does worship. It produces Bible study notes for house groups. All good things, but not all that the church is called to be. Apostles and prophets and evangelists are are pain in the side of the legacy model of church because they see something different. We need the pain. We need leaders who aren't necessarily gifted pastorally or even as great teachers but who see things differently.
If the church is ever really to leave the building then it will be because visionaries and pioneers, the apostles and prophets and evangelists, will take us there. The pastor-teachers will still be important, but they won't be leading the charge.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Don't say this!
The Christianity Today (Christianitytoday.com) website, in the guise of Leadership Journal, posted a piece about the five dumb things Christians say when evil strikes. It's worth a read. Here are the list of five things to avoid saying:
- This is an opportunity for the church
- This is God's wrath for...
- Did you hear...
- I don’t agree with their lifestyle, (or politics, or religion, or…) but…
- Everything happens for a reason
When you take the time to draw breath and consider these things, you begin to realise that such statements are not the words of a faith rooted in the grace and compassion of God. So instead of saying something stupid try weeping with those who weep, mourning with those who mourn.
Read the article here.
Thursday, June 09, 2016
Is enough, enough?
When did enough become not enough? When did faith become about abundance rather than sufficient? When did knowing that faith can move mountains become inadequate, demanding a demonstration in order to prove its veracity?
I got to thinking about these things when I saw an advert on a website I've used a lot over the years, particularly when I was preparing sermons regularly. "Life-changing messages to give you abundant faith" was the offer, and it made me think is that really what I want, or even need. I need enough faith to get through today, rather than abundant faith. I need enough faith to honour God in the things I'll be doing today. Tomorrow is literally another day and we can deal with that when it comes. For now, get me through today.
I read Psalm 139.
Some days I crave more action on behalf of the God who says he loves me but who appears to be somewhat silent when I ask questions. When I seek answers and interventions and nothing appears to happen, then I want more.
But maybe today I settle for enough.
I got to thinking about these things when I saw an advert on a website I've used a lot over the years, particularly when I was preparing sermons regularly. "Life-changing messages to give you abundant faith" was the offer, and it made me think is that really what I want, or even need. I need enough faith to get through today, rather than abundant faith. I need enough faith to honour God in the things I'll be doing today. Tomorrow is literally another day and we can deal with that when it comes. For now, get me through today.
I read Psalm 139.
You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.This is enough. To believe this gets me through the day. To have the faith to believe that I am known and loved by the creator and sustainer of the universe is more than enough to make it through the darkest of days. At least I think it ought to be so. Of course it isn't always.
Some days I crave more action on behalf of the God who says he loves me but who appears to be somewhat silent when I ask questions. When I seek answers and interventions and nothing appears to happen, then I want more.
But maybe today I settle for enough.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Petitions
I was watching the news this morning and they were talking, albeit briefly, about the impending debate in the House of Commons about Donald Trump. This debate has been precipitated by a petition. Now that might not be a bad thing, government actually responding to the concerns of the people, but there are things about it that do raise some concerns.
I remember having a conversation with a local MP many years ago about petitions and how they were viewed by politicians in contrast to a personal letter. I don't remember the details exactly, but the gist of the conversation was that a personal letter carried far more weight than a petition. The MP suggested that it was possible to get 100's if not 1000's of signatures for just about anything, whereas a personal letter said someone had taken the time to sit down and write something. And, if one person took the time, they probably represented the view of a potentially sizeable portion of the constituency, whereas people might just sign a petition simply to get rid of you form the doorstep or move on in the shopping centre.
Well, things have changed, and everyday we get emails and social media requests to sign a petition of some sort. Some I sign. Many I don't. That's me exercising my democratic right and not me not caring by the way!
And therein lies the problem. If I don't sign am I out of step with popular opinion, am I uncaring or uninterested? We judge very quickly and we are in danger, or so it seems to me, of creating a culture where we only ever listen to the voices of those with whom we agree and take immediate offence with those who think differently. Have we lost the ability to debate and discuss ideas and issues?
I'm not sure it's a good use of parliamentary time to be debating Donald Trump. A man whose hair looks like it's been styled by the creator of shredded wheat or the Brillo pad is difficult to take seriously in any context. The fact that he could become the next President of the most powerful nation on the planet would be comical if it were not so worryingly possible. Listening to his comments about not having time to be "politically correct" simply confirms his status as, well fill in the blank yourself.
On the other hand, listening to Natalie Bennett (the leader of the Green Party) this morning, I'm willing to accept that there's a case for the discussion. That's the value of listening to both sides of a debate. I guess in the end that if it takes a petition to help us all engage with the issues, then more power to the petition. But beware the petition that polarises the issue into who's right and who's wrong reduction of complex questions.
I suspect in the end that Mr T won't be banned from visiting the UK. I just hope that if and when he does he gets asked the tough questions and gets well and truly grilled over the things he's had to say.
I remember having a conversation with a local MP many years ago about petitions and how they were viewed by politicians in contrast to a personal letter. I don't remember the details exactly, but the gist of the conversation was that a personal letter carried far more weight than a petition. The MP suggested that it was possible to get 100's if not 1000's of signatures for just about anything, whereas a personal letter said someone had taken the time to sit down and write something. And, if one person took the time, they probably represented the view of a potentially sizeable portion of the constituency, whereas people might just sign a petition simply to get rid of you form the doorstep or move on in the shopping centre.
Well, things have changed, and everyday we get emails and social media requests to sign a petition of some sort. Some I sign. Many I don't. That's me exercising my democratic right and not me not caring by the way!
And therein lies the problem. If I don't sign am I out of step with popular opinion, am I uncaring or uninterested? We judge very quickly and we are in danger, or so it seems to me, of creating a culture where we only ever listen to the voices of those with whom we agree and take immediate offence with those who think differently. Have we lost the ability to debate and discuss ideas and issues?
I'm not sure it's a good use of parliamentary time to be debating Donald Trump. A man whose hair looks like it's been styled by the creator of shredded wheat or the Brillo pad is difficult to take seriously in any context. The fact that he could become the next President of the most powerful nation on the planet would be comical if it were not so worryingly possible. Listening to his comments about not having time to be "politically correct" simply confirms his status as, well fill in the blank yourself.
On the other hand, listening to Natalie Bennett (the leader of the Green Party) this morning, I'm willing to accept that there's a case for the discussion. That's the value of listening to both sides of a debate. I guess in the end that if it takes a petition to help us all engage with the issues, then more power to the petition. But beware the petition that polarises the issue into who's right and who's wrong reduction of complex questions.
I suspect in the end that Mr T won't be banned from visiting the UK. I just hope that if and when he does he gets asked the tough questions and gets well and truly grilled over the things he's had to say.
Friday, January 15, 2016
Failing better
It's an interesting quote to have for a sportsperson because most people would expect something about winning or being the best. This is about perseverance. It's about hard work and determination to be the best that you can be despite the disappointments that come your way.
Tennis is a solitary sport and the nature of the competitive side of the game is that most players lose most of the tournaments in which they play. Losing is a familiar feeling in tennis for all but the very best. I've been told that Feliciano Lopez was once asked how he dealt with losing. His reply was simple: It happens every week.
Of course this doesn't make losing easier to take, you don't have to like losing in order to be able to deal with it and learn from it. The easy option is either to give up or simply choose only to play people you can beat. But that gets boring.
Stan Wawrinka recognises that he is not a Federer, Nadal or Djokovic, men of exceptional ability, but he's still a Grand Slam champion twice over. I'm not sure he'd have done that had he not been able to embrace the philosophy of trying again and "failing better" as he did so.
I recognise that I am very fortunate to get the opportunity to practice my tennis as much as I do. I'm also lucky that while I sometimes find the practice frustrating because I'm not succeeding at what I'm trying to do, I never get bored by the repetition of what we do. I truly enjoy the drills. I know that these drills will help me fail better and hopefully one day actually hit my goal and win more often. I remind myself of these things when I lose, which is more often than not, and I get up and go again. I did that because I'm not ready to settle for where I am currently.
I could get all philosophical now and point out that there are lessons for life in there. We give up too easily when things get hard. Gym memberships lie unused, fitness equipment gather dust in the cupboard, books are left unread, diets are unaltered, goals remain distant unattainable dreams. From a Christian perspective, discipleship remains dormant, prayer is half-hearted. The list goes on.
Beckett's words serve as a reminder that every day is a new opportunity to make a better attempt at whatever it is for which we are reaching. Whether it's a more reliable backhand, a better, healthier diet or a more consistent prayer life. It's just a matter of making a disciplined choice to try again even if that means inevitable failure again. The only difference is that you fail better because you try harder.
I've done my 100-day 10k steps challenge a few times now. Sometimes I've started, but failed. No matter. I've started again. When I've started again and gone on to succeed, it's been a great feeling. The trick always was to think not in terms of 100 days but 2, then 3 then 5, then 10 then 20 consecutive days, each day becoming a victory in itself. If I missed day, I could look back and see what I'd achieved and then look forward to having another go.
So set yourself a goal. Make it achievable then keep trying, keep failing, but keep trying.
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