Blog

  • The Enduring Melody – the fellowship of joy and of suffering

    41FVBQFN2WL__SL500_AA300_ My friend Geoff Colmer – whom I see about once a year at a UK Baptist conference, has gently encouraged me for some time to read The Enduring Melody by Michael Mayne. I first encountered the work of Michael Mayne in his volume This Sunrise of Wonder, which I consider one of the most life affirming and theologically literate books I've ever read. So my slowness in getting to The Enduring Melody is only because other things were pressing, and I know a book of such richness isn't one to skim, cram in, flick through or read dutifully. It should be read – and the verb to read means something much more than mere perusal or hurried shopping down the supermarket aisles grabbing what my limited time allows to throw into the mental trolley.

    So for a week now I've been reading The Enduring Melody, and found myself in the company of faith, courage, beauty, wonder, loss, love, pain, anxiety, enjoyment and much else that is expressed in a book that alternates between very personal journal and beautifully crafted essay. In that sense there are two books – the diary of an illness that proves terminal, and essays on some the things that made up the enduring melody of Michael Mayne's life as a Church of England priest, a vocation lived with the classic pastoral genius of Anglican spirituality at its most inquisitively affirming.

    The only other published Journal that comes near this for honest spiritual search, human and humane longing, wise reflection on the meaning of this person's life, regret that life is shortening but gladness for what it has been and still is, are the two volumes of Philip Toynbee, Part of a Journey, and End of a Journey. I remember very clearly reading them, the time in my life and the places I was when I did read them. And I remember too some of the moments when I simply nodded in mute but sincere recognition of those deep undercurrents of faith and fellowship that enable us to say I believe in the communion of saints. I'll write more about Toynbee soon.

    Over the next week or so I'll write about The Enduring Melody. Not a book review, more reports of conversations between pilgrims who know, you've got to walk that lonesome valley, you've got to walk there by yourself. But pilgrims who also know that you don't ever walk by yourself, even if that is the way it feels. You walk with the company, felt or unfelt, of the One whose rod and staff comort; and you walk with those friends and companions in life who also walk their road and ours; and you walk, or run, surrounded by the great cloud of witnesses, with perseverance looking to Jesus.

  • The Environmentally Friendly Nature Loving White Van Man

    Dont-let-the-world White van man and woman are one of the easy targets for derision, criticism and general opprobrium.

    They drive selfishly, assume a sovereign claim on highway territory, behave like gladiators wielding a weapon, and have made an art form of the tailgate intimidatory tactic.

    This morning white van man was in front of me.

    He braked suddenly and hard, and a squirrel went scampering safely across his absolute right of way.

    As the squirrel settled on the garden wall and looked askance at white van man, the driver window opened, a hand appeared, and that squirrel got a finger wagging telling off that would have done credit to a teacher instilling some health and safety consciousness into a jay walking student!

    I like white van man.

  • “…all pure art is praise…” John Ruskin

    DSC00228 "We express our delight in a beautiful or lovely thing no less by lament for its loss, than gladness in its presence;

    Much art is therefore tragic or pensive, but all pure art is praise…Fix then, this in your mind…your art is to be praise of something that you love." 

    John Ruskin, "The Laws of Fesole"

     

    Victorian rhetoric, the art of the prose poem, the fusion in mind and emotion of contemplative insight and apt, indeed artistic expression – Ruskin is one of the great masters of English descriptive writing. I suspect the quality of the writing is directly indexed to his quality of seeing, and responding to what he saw. Thinking about the nature of the contemplative disposition, I recognise the lure of the beautiful, the frisson of pleasure in the encounter with that which awakens longing.

    The photo was taken in Aberdeen Botaninc gardens, and is a case in point

  • Eucharist – Giving thanks for bread or giving thanks for money?

    DSC00188 Sometimes God speaks to us from oblique angles of our hearing. I mean by that, you are happily reading something, minding your own business and a perfectly good train of thought is interrupted by who knows Who?

    Last night after a satisfying day of travelling, preaching, talking and catching up with various folk, I'm lying in bed reading, intending to lull myself closer to that edge where the closing of the eyelids gets easier than the holding of the book.

    Then I read this from Nicholas Berdyaev, whom I hadn't anticipated as a voice in this book:

    There are two symbols, bread and money; and there are two mysteries, the eucharistic mystery of bread and the Satanic mystery of money. We are faced with the great task; to overthrow the rule of money, and to establish in its place the rule of bread.

    At which point thought, prayer and a sense of having been addressed took over. Oh, and when I say "sometimes God speaks to us from oblique angles of our hearing", I do mean us – each of us – all of us. While the politicians from Cameron to Blair indulge in diagnosis skewed by questionable political assumptions, Berdyaev's contrast of the two ways human beings live gets much nearer the reality - bread  or  money, and only one is eucharistic, that which proclaims the celebration of thanksgiving.

  • When the Good Samaritan is a Parable of judgement and a call to prayer

    Breadwine

    The parable of the  Good Samaritan figures highly in my personal rule of life. No big deal in that, it's just a way of trying to pay attention to those around me, notice the realities of the world I work and walk in, and try to embody the compassion of Jesus in ways that are neither by-standing nor walking on the other side of the road. Sometimes being intentional in such attentiveness, and with the Good Samaritan as background theme music, that has meant just doing the decent thing when someone is struggling, needs help and may not even ask. Compassion isn't only emotional sympathy – kindness in action, understanding of another human heart, accompaniment on a hard part of the journey, personal expenditure of time, money or energy – it's all of these.

    But now and again with the best will in the world none of that seems possible. Driving to work yesterday along a busy street, a young woman in a shell suit was clinging to a telephone junction box on the pavement. She was swaying, trying to hold on and was obviously distressed either because of what she had taken, or because she couldn't get what she needed. I was in a flow of traffic, passing roadworks with a contraflow, and no way to stop the car for several hundred yards. Several people walked past, one or two smiling but no one stopping, or speaking. Not easy to approach someone who is behaving so much in character with the dependency that has brought her to this place – alcohol, drugs, who knows. But at 7.45 am, she was clearly not where she needed to be. I felt guilty of and on for a while, then forgot about it until I remembered this morning. I wonder where she is. If anyone help-ed her. If she lives near where I saw her.

    And I wondered too what is the good, or the use, of now praying for her. I don't know her name, her background, and may never see her again. But I have prayed for her.

    That she will find somewhere and sometime, a love that will rescue and redeem.

    That someone will have stopped and asked her name and maybe seen her safely home.

    That we are forgiven for a world where roadworks, house renovation, traffic flow, and impatient commuters on the way to work or the school run, all conspire to make kindness inconvenient, stopping to help socially unacceptable, compassionate action a nuisance.

    And that somewhere deep inside her loneliness and hopelessness, she will discover a love that will hold and enfold her towards wholeness, and recovery, and yes human happiness.

    To such petitions I say amen, and trust to the Love that moves the sun and other stars, will move in that no less impressive work of healing a broken life, and yes, through the prayers of this mororist who didn't stop.

  • Seek the Lord while He may be found – Prayer of Bernard of Clairvaux

    2222240312_e56af494c5 Omniscience is both a comforting and scary thought. God knows everything there is to know. Which means I can't hide anything – neither my sins nor my worries; my need for forgiveness nor for reassurance. 

    It also means my motives which to me usually seem sound, but in reality are mixed and complex, are understood and seen with the scrutinising gaze of holy love.

    But given God's omnisicience, I'm glad we pray to a God who is not slow on the uptake.

    Just as well. Here's one of Bernard of Clairvaux's prayers. The kind of prayer even the Lord might ask should be said twice, just to be sure He got it the first time!

     

     

    Lord, you are good to the soul that seeks you.

    What are you then to the soul that finds?

    But this is the most wonderful thing,

    that no one can seek you who has not already found you.

    You therefore seek to be found so that you might be sought for,

    sought so that you may be found. Amen

     

  • The Transformative Authority of the Bible

    DSC00227 One of the finest spiritual writers in the Evangelical tradition is only read today in edited versions. Like the Puritans, Andrew Murray's writing could be 'prolix', and like a certain washing machine advert of some years ago, he could go on and on and on. But Andrew Murray (if you Google the name you're likely to encounter a tennis player!) was a profoundly influential teacher in the Holiness tradition in South Africa and in England through the Keswick movement. His commentary on Hebrews, The Holiest of All, was very warmly reviewed by no less than James Denney who didn't call geese swans. What Denney liked was the thoughtful application of evangelical truth to Christian sanctification and behaviour, and the centrality of Christ in all Murray's writings.

    Murray wrote one of the best accounts of an Evangelical appropriation of the Bible. Rather than argue for the authority of the text as artefact, he pleaded for a use of the Bible that depended on openness to God and a receptiveness of heart to the transforming work of the Word of Scripture. Here's what he says:

    God's Word only works its true blessing when the truth it brings to us has stirred the inner life, and reproduced itself in resolve, trust, love or adoration. When the heart has received the Word through the mind and has had its spiritual powers called out and exercised on it, the Word is no longer void, but it has done that whereunto God has sent it. It has become part of our life, and strengthened us for new purpose and effort.

    Andrew Murray, The Inner Chamber and the Inner Life, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1950), 72

    Truth that transforms, a Word that is living, dynamic and provocative of response, words through which God speaks now, that is the Word enfleshed, embodied, lived, obeyed – and that is the authority of Scripture that matters most – it authors our lives.  

    (Learning slowly how to use my new camera. The photo was taken in the Aberdeen Botanic Gardens)

  • Dag Hammarskjold – and the importance of saying yes!

    Dag Hammarskjold's Markings is another of those books I've had on my shelves all the years of my ministry. I first bought it in 1972. It cost me £2.25 and is a Faber paperback. I bought it because it was quoted in an article in the Expository Times and that single quotation has sometimes kept me afloat when not much else was giving buoyancy.

    For all that is past Thank You;

    For all that is to come, Yes.

    Hammarskjold We've become used to Journalling now. But in the 1950's and 60's there is something remarkable about this narrative told without plot but with purpose, a slow accumulation of received wisdom, distilled at times to sentences of Zen precision, with poetic rhythms reminsicent of Haiku, and occasional self revealing paragraphs of a mind and spirit refracted through profound moral awareness of the world around and the world within. If you don't know this book, then you are missing an encounter with one of the most fascinating and enigmatic minds of the 20th Century in which political conscience, personal faith and social vision combine so that you could equally say political faith, personal vision and social conscience.

    Markings is the published version of those occasional jottings, found in a black note-book discovered after his still unexplained death in an aircrash. As the then Secretary General of the United Nations he had been on a peace making trip to the Congo. Since then his personal thoughts have given comfort, clarity, insight and encouragement to the readers of Markings. I have a 90+ friend whose yellowing copy is still to hand. Had Hammarskjold lived he would have been about ages with her.

    Here he is on what it means to live a human life:

    God does not die on the day when we cease to believe in a personal deity, but we die on the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.

    What does that mean? Wrong question. It isn't an argument – it's a confession of faith in the worth of human life, and the conviction of Ecclesiastes the Preacher, 'that to be human is to be b orn with eternity in our hearts'.

     

     

  • Tariq Jahan – a noble and conciliatory presence….

    Our culture has degraded the ancient art of rhetoric to strap lines, sound bytes and spin. Or the noble art of rhetoric is diminished by the prior qualifier 'empty' or 'mere'. But every now and then there are examples of rhetoric at its best – humane, memorable, impassioned, reasoned, persuasive and above all ringing with truth. It happened yesterday.

    Article-2024375-0D60FC3300000578-652_306x481 Tariq Jahan, father of one of the young men killed by a hit and run driver while trying to defend their homes and businesses, spoke with immense courage and passion, out of deep wells of grief and bewilderment, but with a human dignity that was profoundly moving. And at one point, with a weight of seriousness perhaps only a bereaved parent could carry, he said, "Step forward if you want to lose your sons. Otherwise, go home."

    That is rhetoric – humane, memorable, impassioned, reasoned, persuasive and above all ringing with truth. And it is rhetoric that is neither empty nor mere – it was the instinctive skilled use of words that have been heated in the furnace of grief and tempered with the pain  of loss. And at that moment, all that was in me was standing alongside Tariq Jahan, a noble and conciliatory presence in the midst of much that was ignoble, ugly, destructive and hate filled. Cultural pluralism, inter faith dialogue, ethnic diversity, racial equality, multiculturalism, communities of respected difference – use whatever phrases you like, a moment like that dissolves all our political posturings and sociological analyses and politically correct discourse and what we are left with is the cry of a human heart, a wail of anguish reduced to powerful words intended to stop such pain spreading to afflict others.

    And as a follower of Jesus I stand alongside those neighbour friends in our country, Sikh, Muslim, Hindu, Christian, Jewish and of no professed faith, and I hear that cry, and cry in fellowship at such tragic violence and inexplicable absurdity.

    And today in Parliament the debate is about what caused the riots, how to control them, what to do in the aftermath. In time the reflection and learning will begin. Are the rioters angry or having fun? Is it the loss of civic and police control that has created opportunity for freeloading? Why are so many people angry, destructive and hell bent on vandalism and looting? What is the connection between economic recession and civil disorder? All seem to be agreed it is 'sheer criminality'? But that still doesn't answer the question why this upsurge in violent discontent, destructive looting, burning homes and businesses as the articulation of what – hatred, the resentment of the have-nots, the fun of knowing that looking through broken plate glass at a jewellers shop window filled with watches, those who have no money realise 'yes we can'? All of these, some of these, a mixture of these.

    But what is beyond dispute is that three young men were killed in an act of callous violence while protecting property. And throughout the news coverage much has been made of the cost to the retail trade and the cost of repairing and replacing burned, stolen and wrecked goods, houses and cars. Not counting the cost of the police responses, estimated now into many millions not easily available in a service with huge cuts looming. There is something both sad and salutary when the cost of rioting is measured in the financial cost of burned houses when the real cost is communities searing with hostility against the system. Something unacceptable about cliches like 'feeling the full force of the law', when amongst the lawbreakers are those who reckon they have nothing to lose in a society that in their experience offers no hope, no open doors, no future chances to participate and have a stake in the local community and the wider society.

    I'm excusing nothing. The riots and the looting, the violence and intimidation, the appetite for inflicting damage on people, the outpouring of hostility and rage – all are wrong, destructive and no part of a society in which mutual respect, consensual policing and political freedoms are key principles. But neither is there an excuse for political decisions and social consequences that are driven by an economic agenda that has ignored the actual costs to people who already see much of their lives constrained and controlled within a system that leaves little room for maneouvre and no effective voice for change.

    It is against that chilling contrast of riot and politics, of criminal looting and inflexible economic policies, of community violence and communities under pressure, and the collision of despair and hopelessness on one hand, with the inequity of opportunity and life chances on the other, that the deaths of three young men are to be seen. because they died as a direct result of violence fomented on the streets. That violence needs not only explanation as to its originating motives; that violence also needs a response of moral vision and imagination to create a social environment where the dominant voice that is heard is not the roar of rage and the sound of violence. Blessed are the peacemakers – peacemaking is not populist politics, it is a social, moral and communal necessity. It is also the church's theological, ethical and missional imperative.

    An update on this remarkable man can be read here

  • Going on retreat, toasted muesli and the Go-Between God.

    I was recalling with Ken the other day the time we went on a clergy retreat to Scottish Churches House. The Director was the late Bishop John V Taylor and we looked forward to a rich time of thoughtful and theologically literate reflection. We weren't disappointed. Out of an A5 spiral notebook, with full written notes he spoke of the Christlike God and the ministry as service to the God of Creation, Reconciliation and Communion in the Trinity.

    However there was not a little consternation when with episcopal authority of a unilateral kind, he announced it would be a silent retreat, with strictly designated times for talking. That was a problem for two friends who wanted to catch up. It was more of a problem when he said that meal times would be silent – I mean, how do you ask politely for the salt without which chips are incomplete? But problem became difficult to suppress hysteria at the breakfast table when in silence, around 20 people are munching the toasted muesli. My immediate memory was of my boyhood on the farms and heard the munching of bovine jaws in the byre after feeding cattle cake to 40 cows. Unconditional love of the brothers and sisters is stretched painfully when trying to chew muesli, not choke and hold back guffaws of laughter which if they erupt are likely to spray the table with semi-masticated oats much to the spiritual benefit of no one!

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     Nevertheless, that was a rich encounter with Bishop John. I went on the strength of reading his The Go Between God.

    That is a book of seminal importance in my thinking about the presence and work of the Holy Spirit in the created order, in the church, and in my life as it impinges on all the others who are affected by the ripples of influence that emanate from this one life.

    Here is one paragraph which says so, so much:

     

     

    The Holy Spirit is the invisible third party who stands between me and the other, making us mutually aware. Supremely and primarily he opens my eyes to Christ. But he also opens my eyes to the brother ans sister in Christ, or the fellow human being, or the point of need, or the heartbreaking brutality and the equally heartbreaking beauty of the world. He is the giver of that vision without which the people perish. We commonly speak about the Holy Spirit as the source of power. But in fact he enables us not by making us supernaturally strong but by opening our eyes.