Today I went to a meeting in Linlithgow of ministers from various different denominations in West Lothian. I really enjoyed our time together and felt encouraged and supported by their fellowship and by the teaching, prayer, and reflection.
When I got back to the car park where I had left my car, I clicked the remote to unlock the door, and nothing happened. Oh, oh!
I tried again, both buttons, dead - no response.
After some thought, I decided that it probably wasn't the remote, since it hadn't given me any of the usual warning signs of the battery running out.
It must be something in the car - and the most likely thing, was the battery - and a light went on in my head - which was the exact problem - the lights - the headlights.
I had left them on. But there is a warning signal if you open the door, without the keys in, and the lights are still on. So how come I didn't hear a warning?
I had parked too close to a boulder, as the car park was almost full. I couldn't get out the driver's door, and so I had clambered through to the back and got out the back door. And it doesn't trigger the 'headlights on' warning sound.
Hey ho. My breakdown service eventually sorted me out. I didn't have to wait too long, and I had no other appointments. I had forgotten my mobile phone - which didn't help!
Afterwards, I was thinking - it's a bit like our discussion earlier in the morning. If we are not putting anything into the battery, then eventually it will run out.
In our lives as ministers, there is quite a load on our spiritual batteries. We can't last very long, unless our charging circuit is keeping us topped up.
So an integral part of our lifestyle must be spending time with God, and allowing his Holy Spirit to keep us running at full power.
It was a timely lesson, although not very pleasant. It was more than 25 years ago when I last made that mistake with headlights. I must be careful not to make that mistake again, either with my car, or my job!
Monday, 22 February 2010
Friday, 12 February 2010
Vast Quantities of Love
Vast is a good word. I like it. The universe is vast. God is vast. God's love is vast.
The very word 'vast' has that sound of enormity. I think it is due to the 'Ah' vowel in the middle, surrounded by the hard consonants of V, S, and T, that emphasise the size of the word.
Perhaps the fact that 'vast' only has four letters also adds to the appeal and attraction of the word. I have to be careful these days which four-letter words I am using.
Vast is a safe word. Although if we start thinking, reflecting, pondering, dwelling, on the nature of such vast things as God, love, and the universe, then we might move out of safe territory and enter into a realm of risk and danger.
Speaking of which, my friend Steve's Cool Risk site has some interesting topical articles and pictures on Risk and Perception just now.
In contrast to the word 'vast', the four-letter word 'tiny' conveys the exact opposite condition. Tiny bird, tiny mouse, tiny morsel, tiny pay packet, tiny house, tiny feet, and so on.
The contrast between these two words was highlighted at a recent thought-provoking Communion service.
The broken bread, representing the broken body of Jesus, was brought to us by one of the servers, and we were able to tear off our own piece. The person next to me commented how many folk tore off a great big crusty piece. I certainly did, and maybe there was a bit of a dig in her remark.
The cup of red wine, representing the blood of Jesus that was spilled on the Cross, was also brought round by a server. Often we only use tiny individual glasses, each with a tiny quantity of wine in the bottom. However, on this occasion, we could choose to receive our wine from the Common Cup, or an individual glass. As you might have guessed by now, I chose the Common Cup. That way, I could have a big mouthful - even although the 'wine' is a sanitised drink to make it 'safe' for church usage.
On Sundays we have been working through Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. In chapter 11:17-34 he gives them advice and direction for their celebrations of the Lord's supper.
He criticises the greediness of some folk, to the extent that some folk get drunk, while others are excluded and go hungry. Instead folk should wait for one another, and perhaps wait on one another, and if people are hungry then they should eat at home.
Over the years, Paul's instructions have been interpreted to mean that tiny is better than vast. On most occasions, the portions of bread are little more than a crumb. No-one could possibly over-indulge and leave someone else hungry. Self-discipline is not required.
Similarly with the wine, where we use tiny glasses, thus ensuring that no-one could possibly get drunk.
In some traditions, they only rarely have wine at their Communion services, merely sharing the bread on those occasions. Yet other traditions insist that all the wine must be consumed before the end of the service. Not one drop must remain, so the celebrant and the servers consume any remaining wine themselves. Maybe not drunk - but tipsy might be an accurate description!
God's love is vast beyond measure. Our Communion services are an occasion of joy where we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and his invitation to us to live with him forever. The guy who runs the Universe invites us to his party.
We invite people to have a tiny piece of bread and a tiny sip of wine.
I have been to a few Communion celebrations where we sat round tables, with coffee or tea to drink, and fruit to eat, during the first part of the service.
When the time came to share Communion, the warm bread loaves were brought in from the kitchen, and distributed one to each table. We broke the bread and shared it amongst us. We poured the 'wine' from the jug in the centre of each table into our own and each other's glasses, and shared it amongst us.
It wasn't a banquet, but it was closer to a meal than most formal celebrations of Communion. I liked it. Although it wasn't the same as that first Lord's Supper, I got a sense that we were sharing the eating of a meal together. It wasn't a ceremony, it was a meal, a supper.
Jesus said, "The Kingdom of Heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet." (Matthew 22:2&4 NRSV).
I think it will be a vast banquet, for a vast number of people, with vast amounts of fun, joy, and love. I don't know about food and drink in heaven, but if there is any, then I am sure there will be vast quantities of that too.
The universe is vast. God is vast. God's home is vast. God's love is vast.
Come and join the vast throng at God's vast and ever-lasting party.
The very word 'vast' has that sound of enormity. I think it is due to the 'Ah' vowel in the middle, surrounded by the hard consonants of V, S, and T, that emphasise the size of the word.
Perhaps the fact that 'vast' only has four letters also adds to the appeal and attraction of the word. I have to be careful these days which four-letter words I am using.
Vast is a safe word. Although if we start thinking, reflecting, pondering, dwelling, on the nature of such vast things as God, love, and the universe, then we might move out of safe territory and enter into a realm of risk and danger.
Speaking of which, my friend Steve's Cool Risk site has some interesting topical articles and pictures on Risk and Perception just now.
In contrast to the word 'vast', the four-letter word 'tiny' conveys the exact opposite condition. Tiny bird, tiny mouse, tiny morsel, tiny pay packet, tiny house, tiny feet, and so on.
The contrast between these two words was highlighted at a recent thought-provoking Communion service.
The broken bread, representing the broken body of Jesus, was brought to us by one of the servers, and we were able to tear off our own piece. The person next to me commented how many folk tore off a great big crusty piece. I certainly did, and maybe there was a bit of a dig in her remark.
The cup of red wine, representing the blood of Jesus that was spilled on the Cross, was also brought round by a server. Often we only use tiny individual glasses, each with a tiny quantity of wine in the bottom. However, on this occasion, we could choose to receive our wine from the Common Cup, or an individual glass. As you might have guessed by now, I chose the Common Cup. That way, I could have a big mouthful - even although the 'wine' is a sanitised drink to make it 'safe' for church usage.
On Sundays we have been working through Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. In chapter 11:17-34 he gives them advice and direction for their celebrations of the Lord's supper.
He criticises the greediness of some folk, to the extent that some folk get drunk, while others are excluded and go hungry. Instead folk should wait for one another, and perhaps wait on one another, and if people are hungry then they should eat at home.
Over the years, Paul's instructions have been interpreted to mean that tiny is better than vast. On most occasions, the portions of bread are little more than a crumb. No-one could possibly over-indulge and leave someone else hungry. Self-discipline is not required.
Similarly with the wine, where we use tiny glasses, thus ensuring that no-one could possibly get drunk.
In some traditions, they only rarely have wine at their Communion services, merely sharing the bread on those occasions. Yet other traditions insist that all the wine must be consumed before the end of the service. Not one drop must remain, so the celebrant and the servers consume any remaining wine themselves. Maybe not drunk - but tipsy might be an accurate description!
God's love is vast beyond measure. Our Communion services are an occasion of joy where we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and his invitation to us to live with him forever. The guy who runs the Universe invites us to his party.
We invite people to have a tiny piece of bread and a tiny sip of wine.
I have been to a few Communion celebrations where we sat round tables, with coffee or tea to drink, and fruit to eat, during the first part of the service.
When the time came to share Communion, the warm bread loaves were brought in from the kitchen, and distributed one to each table. We broke the bread and shared it amongst us. We poured the 'wine' from the jug in the centre of each table into our own and each other's glasses, and shared it amongst us.
It wasn't a banquet, but it was closer to a meal than most formal celebrations of Communion. I liked it. Although it wasn't the same as that first Lord's Supper, I got a sense that we were sharing the eating of a meal together. It wasn't a ceremony, it was a meal, a supper.
Jesus said, "The Kingdom of Heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet." (Matthew 22:2&4 NRSV).
I think it will be a vast banquet, for a vast number of people, with vast amounts of fun, joy, and love. I don't know about food and drink in heaven, but if there is any, then I am sure there will be vast quantities of that too.
The universe is vast. God is vast. God's home is vast. God's love is vast.
Come and join the vast throng at God's vast and ever-lasting party.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Question
Even before I started training to become a Minister with the Church of Scotland, I learned an important lesson. It was about the value of questions.
I had been invited to participate in a Bible Study that would be running through the period of Lent. The study group was part of the congregation where I was being Assessed for my potential to become a Minister.
During one of the evenings, someone made a comment that offended me.
The language used was not offensive, but the comment suggested that a certain group of people today don't believe certain parts of the Bible any more.
I was offended because the comment was about a group of people to which I consider I belong, and therefore I was included in the assertion about lack of belief. Yet I do believe in those parts of the Bible that were being doubted.
I was angry. I reacted against the comments by contradicting the person. I told them they were wrong. I was emotional in my response. After my flare-up, we moved on to the next part of the study and talked about other subjects.
After we finished our studies, during coffee and biscuits, I took care to speak to the person who had offended me. I apologised for having been upset and angry and for reacting so negatively. My excuse was that I was not prepared for such a direct opposition to something I held strongly and dearly. We talked together and remained friendly during the remaining months of my Assessment placement.
Since that time, I have noted many situations when asking a question is a good response to something that has been said. Questions like, Why? Where? How? What?
The biggest values of asking a question are that one invites a response, and hopefully one learns something from the response. The other person or people may learn things by considering and making their answer.
One of the hazards of being a Minister is that the biggest speaking point of the week is the Sunday Sermon. It is not a discussion or a conversation, usually being a monologue. The Minister may ask questions, but often no answer is expected.
There is little opportunity for anyone in the congregation to make considered comments, or to ask their own questions. There is usually no opportunity for discussion.
Some ministers do provide a short summary, or even the whole text, of their sermons. In such congregations, study groups are often invited to consider and reflect on each week's sermon. Questions and comments are invited, and the minister may offer to come and discuss.
In the absence of meaningful feedback and discussion, how then does a Minister question themself? Are we sensitive to the check of the Holy Spirit, who prods us when we say something that is unwise? Or even better, before we say something that is unwise, or unhelpful, or untrue?
In the present training programme for Ministers, the Candidates are often asked to undertake tasks that result in our anxiety or embarrassment. As a result we become accustomed to speaking in front of hundreds of strangers, about subjects they hold dearly.
Fortunately, it is rare that negative comments are received. Often such comments are about other aspects of the service than the sermon.
But that emphasises my point about lack of considered feedback. Without such feedback one can become complacent. If no-one ever contradicts you, then you might begin to think that you always speak correctly. And that's wrong!
I am glad that I have strong friends who love me enough to criticise me. It is usually a painful process, but it is a rewarding process.
Questions are opportunities for growth. They encourage us to balance doubt and faith. They encourage us to explore subjects that we find offensive. They encourage us to reconsider what we think and believe. They give us permission to ask questions too.
Question. Question? Why?
I had been invited to participate in a Bible Study that would be running through the period of Lent. The study group was part of the congregation where I was being Assessed for my potential to become a Minister.
During one of the evenings, someone made a comment that offended me.
The language used was not offensive, but the comment suggested that a certain group of people today don't believe certain parts of the Bible any more.
I was offended because the comment was about a group of people to which I consider I belong, and therefore I was included in the assertion about lack of belief. Yet I do believe in those parts of the Bible that were being doubted.
I was angry. I reacted against the comments by contradicting the person. I told them they were wrong. I was emotional in my response. After my flare-up, we moved on to the next part of the study and talked about other subjects.
After we finished our studies, during coffee and biscuits, I took care to speak to the person who had offended me. I apologised for having been upset and angry and for reacting so negatively. My excuse was that I was not prepared for such a direct opposition to something I held strongly and dearly. We talked together and remained friendly during the remaining months of my Assessment placement.
Since that time, I have noted many situations when asking a question is a good response to something that has been said. Questions like, Why? Where? How? What?
The biggest values of asking a question are that one invites a response, and hopefully one learns something from the response. The other person or people may learn things by considering and making their answer.
One of the hazards of being a Minister is that the biggest speaking point of the week is the Sunday Sermon. It is not a discussion or a conversation, usually being a monologue. The Minister may ask questions, but often no answer is expected.
There is little opportunity for anyone in the congregation to make considered comments, or to ask their own questions. There is usually no opportunity for discussion.
Some ministers do provide a short summary, or even the whole text, of their sermons. In such congregations, study groups are often invited to consider and reflect on each week's sermon. Questions and comments are invited, and the minister may offer to come and discuss.
In the absence of meaningful feedback and discussion, how then does a Minister question themself? Are we sensitive to the check of the Holy Spirit, who prods us when we say something that is unwise? Or even better, before we say something that is unwise, or unhelpful, or untrue?
In the present training programme for Ministers, the Candidates are often asked to undertake tasks that result in our anxiety or embarrassment. As a result we become accustomed to speaking in front of hundreds of strangers, about subjects they hold dearly.
Fortunately, it is rare that negative comments are received. Often such comments are about other aspects of the service than the sermon.
But that emphasises my point about lack of considered feedback. Without such feedback one can become complacent. If no-one ever contradicts you, then you might begin to think that you always speak correctly. And that's wrong!
I am glad that I have strong friends who love me enough to criticise me. It is usually a painful process, but it is a rewarding process.
Questions are opportunities for growth. They encourage us to balance doubt and faith. They encourage us to explore subjects that we find offensive. They encourage us to reconsider what we think and believe. They give us permission to ask questions too.
Question. Question? Why?
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