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Prayer written for our forthcoming online recorded service.

Theme is based on Romans 8.38-39

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Prayer of Petition

Creator God, you looked on all that you made and said, “Very Good.”

Your love is creatively and purposefully invested in all that you have made.

The stars are numbered and named, and not one of them is missing;

yet you notice the sparrow that falls from exhaustion.

So Your mercy and love surrounds the vastness of our universe,

and holds as treasure, the inconsequential sparrow.

We thank you that your your love is faithful, careful and unfailing towards us,

and that nothing you have made is inconsequential to you.

 

God of Grace, mostly we know that nothing can separate us from your love.

But sometimes we do feel alone, afraid and uncertain.

Comfort our hearts and strengthen our minds with these words;

nothing in all creation can separate us from your love in Christ.

 

God of Hope, when life gets us down, and we’re left wondering what’s worthwhile any more,

restore our joy, rebuild our hope, renew our peace,

by instilling deep in our souls those inwardly far-reaching words –

nothing in all creation can separate us from your love in Christ.

 

God of the cross and the empty tomb,

help us to look on all that is broken in our world, in our country, in our own lives,

and then to lift up our eyes and see your forgiving and redeeming love on the cross;

then lift our eyes further to see our Risen Lord

who has overcome all that separates us from your love,

calling us into the new creation of life in Him,

where nothing in all creation can separate us from your love in Christ.

 

May God who is the ground of hope fill you with all joy and peace,

as you lead the life of faith

until by the power of the Holy Spirit you overflow with hope.

Amen

These have been difficult weeks here in the North East of Scotland. Like everyone else, we have lived with the public health restrictions, and Christmas and New Year have been diminished to the closest circle of friends and family, and even that has been severely selective.  For ourselves, walking outdoors has been one of the daily routines to help us stay healthy, physically and mentally.

That was fine until the snow, which melted and re-frosted overnight (I know re-frosted seems a made up word). It being the holiday period, and local authorities short of staff and money, neither roads nor pavements have been gritted since the ice and snow took hold. The result is it is near impossible to walk safely out of doors for any but those who have ice grips on their shoes.

Our house sits at the top of our street, on a fairly definite gradient, which has been like an Olympic ski jump slope, except with a surface like an Olympic skating rink. So the car isn't a safe option to get from impossible walking to cautious walking. Except for one day. The road was made passable by myself and a couple of others using the salt grit in the wee yellow bin at the top of the road. So we escaped for part of a day and had a walk in the woods. That's where the photo was taken.

During these long months of lock down, then restrictions eased, then tightened again into winter until we are in lock down again, I have found solace in the woods, with a camera, and she who is my lifelong walking companion. Together we take time to look, pay attention, think, pray and enjoy this day while waiting for better days. Looking out through the trees this hanging twig of pine caught the sunlight, which caught my eye. 

Haiku
The waters of life,
on a pine needle setting,
drop like diamonds.

I've often wondered about beauty. Is it always there waiting to be noticed, or does it become beautiful as we notice it, and appreciate the there-ness of that which calls into the depths of who we are? And does our ability to see something as beautiful depend on our own inner climate of emotion and disposition towards the world?

Would I have noticed this pine twig if I hadn't been so glad to get out and about again, hungry and thirsty for the smells, sounds, sights around, and the feel of mud paths, pine needle carpets, uneven ground requiring more than just putting one foot in front of the other? My answer? I don't know. 

What I do know is that there are now countless occasions when I have stopped and seen beyond that which is there. Taking a photograph is much, much more than trying to capture a moment that cannot be digitised anyway.

Taking a photograph is:

a way of disciplining the way we look on the world;

a moment of intentional appreciation;

an acknowledgement of our connectedness to that which is not us;

a knowing smile as we recognise the signature of the Creator;

a gentle defiance of a culture that thrives on noise, possession and the enthroned ego;

an aide memoire of an encounter that has nourished, provoked and summoned us;

an act of trust in the worthwhileness of the ordinary, the daily and the routine;

a form of prayer which merges the contemplative, the active and the imaginative.

And for myself, that last definition " a form of prayer", holds together and affirms all the others. My camera, and the worlds it opens to me, has become a means of grace, and a means of recognising grace when it stares me in the face. So many other emotions and inner climate changes come into play when that happens, when we recognise the grace "that brought me safe thus far." Gladness, gratitude, thoughtfulness, wistfulness, longing, alertness; and yes, at times intimations of sadness, reflective moments of regret, memories nudged awake, and a sense of the incompleteness that is inherent in human finitude.

Such inarticulate feelings and responses are perhaps the deeper parts of prayer, whether the "burden of a sigh" or "the motion of a hidden fire, that trembles in the breast." That has become so for me over quite a number of years now, but more keenly felt, and more spiritually necessary over these past pandemic blighted months. Deprived of regular worship, absent the shared fellowship of prayer, and distanced from the physical communion of saints, other ways of relating to God have grown and strengthened. They have had to. 

I still long for renewed and uncomplicated human encounters in the fellowship of all God's children. This most recent lock down postpones that even further. But eventually for each of us there will also be the important work of hanging on to what we have learned about ourselves, about God, and about this God-loved, and beautiful but broken world -through which grace still reaches out to us. The second photo was taken before I finished writing this post. It's the burn that runs through one of the forests we have come to love as a place of peace, companionship, interest, and yes, grace…

Thou flowing water, pure and clear, 
make music for thy God to hear,
alleluia, alleluia!   

My words are being written to you on the second last day of 2020. We are two days away from the completion of our country’s exit from the European community, and Parliament has just overwhelmingly approved that decision. However we each feel about that, it is a huge change to our way of life, how we see ourselves as a country, and how we relate to our European neighbours. We are also caught up in the second wave of Covid 19 infections which are rising faster and higher than the first wave, back in March and April. Once again our NHS staff are stretched to the limit, and hospital A&E and Wards in danger of being overwhelmed, and most of us are facing further weeks of tight restrictions and possible lock down.

We go into 2021 uncertain about many things. As Christians we aren’t immune to the anxieties and difficulties of living through these hard months. We get lonely without the usual company, frustrated by all the restrictions, worried about ourselves and our family, anxious about our jobs, stressed going to the shops, afraid to use public transport. It’s a long list of losses we never thought would happen to us.

Uncertain about many things, but as Christians there are also some game-changing certainties. Here are some of them. Read them slowly:

“Though I walk through the valley of deep darkness, I will fear no evil. Your rod and staff comfort me.”

“I look to the hills. Where does help come from? Help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.”

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine.”

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me…Remain in me and I will remain in you…as the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Now remain in my love.”

Older translations said “abide in me and I in you.” The word means to take up residence, our Scottish word “bide” comes from the same word family. Whatever else is going on in the world, there is a safe place to bide and remain; in the love of God. In fact Jude 21 says as much: “Keep yourselves in God’s love, as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life.”

As we go into 2021, there are new hopes for vaccines and later in the year a less restricted way of life. Nothing is certain of course. Well, except, when God says something it stays said! God keeps his promises. “My word shall not return to me empty, but will accomplish the purpose for which I sent it.”

So when God says “Fear not”, God means it. Of course reading those words, and even taking them to heart, doesn’t take away all our fears, anxieties, worries, problems and uncertainties. We are human, and God knows that and understands our weakness. “Fear not” is God’s reminder to us that no matter what we are dealing with, we are not on our own.

Where does help come from? The Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. What about the dark valleys, steep hills, and blind corners? I will fear no evil for Thou art with me! But how do I know that? “Remain in my love”; make your home in the love of God, That’s where you bide. Know that whatever else changes, God changes not, his compassions they fail not.

Now there’s a strange statistic going the rounds. In answer to the question, How many times does the phrase “Fear not” appear in the Bible – the number is given as 365 times, once for each day of the year. It’s a good statistic – but it isn’t correct. Nothing like that many. One scholar, using various translations and lexicons struggled to get anywhere near 300!

But here’s the thing. God doesn’t need to repeat himself. Once God says something, it stays said. If God says it once, it stands as God’s word. Given the steadfast love of the Lord, the faithfulness and mercy of our God, “He has given us his very great and precious promises…” (2 Peter 1.4).

We go into 2021 with its uncertainties, but God is before us and after us, ahead of us and behind us, and his promises are as secure as His word. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, and you are mine”. Whatever awaits each of us in the next year, God’s love is the underlying constant of our lives. Christ is our refuge, and in him we abide, and nothing, nothing can separate us from the Love of the triune God of Grace, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Hold on to that truth, about the God who holds on to you.

(First written to our Church community in Montrose)

Photo of Nativity Silhouette Outside Banff Parish Church.

Thought for the Day Dec 21-27

Monday    Matthew 1.19-20 “Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”

The decency of Joseph is one of the overlooked gifts in the Christmas story. Joseph had rights which he refused to impose. Gentleness that refuses to hurt, and love that persists through such a difficult situation – what a fiancé! The angel’s explanation might seem a bit far-fetched – but then miracles are not meant to be plausible. God does the unexpected, and we are left to wonder…and worship.

Tuesday    Matthew 1.21 “She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Jesus wasn’t an unusual name in first century Jewish society. An ordinary name, but for one whose birth would be extraordinary in the history of the universe. Jesus would fulfil the promise of a long awaited move on the part of God. God’s answer to sin is this promised child; God’s love is embodied in this child embodied in Mary; God’s eternal purpose comes to fulfilment in the birth of Jesus into our human history. “Late in time behold him come, offspring of a virgin’s womb…”

Wednesday   Luke 1.12 “Zechariah was startled and gripped with fear…” Matthew 1.19; “Mary was greatly troubled at the angel’s words…”; Luke 1.29 “The angel said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife…”

Fear is scary! It’s hard to think straight when we are really frightened. In all the sentiment and celebration of Christmas, it is worth remembering the mixture of shock, terror and life-changing events that happened unasked to those who lived through that first Christmas. And their response to their fear was faith, a radical trust that all this strangeness was because God was bursting into human history. Christmas is more than a comfort story – it is a new beginnings story.

Thursday – Christmas Eve.  Luke 2.10 -11 “But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the   town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.

Great joy for all the people. The emotions of Christmas are many and varied; fear and trust, joy and sorrow, longing and fulfilment. Into all our deepest experiences comes the One called Jesus, who will live human life as God had always intended. Through that life and death, he will heal our brokenness, forgive our sins, renew our capacity to love God and neighbour, and gives us back the life God always intended for his children. 

Friday – Christmas Day –Luke 2.13-14. Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to all men and women, on whom his favour rests.”

The older familiar phrase captures the strange beauty of the greatest ever press conference: “Suddenly, there was a multitude of the heavenly host…” On this day of all days, join with the angels’ song, and open your heart and your life to that peace which God intends for all people. Then open your heart further in showing and sharing the peace, love, joy and hope of God in Christ.

Saturday – Boxing Day – Matthew 2.1-2 “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.”

Magi, wise men, explorers, scientists – whatever word we use, these were amongst the cleverest and most resourceful people around at the time of Jesus birth. They knew about stars; they weren’t afraid of travelling out of their comfort zone; they were deeply religious and brought gifts to acknowledge the wonder of it all. They knew about that particular star now parked over Bethlehem. And ever since they have been examples of what it might mean to go looking for Jesus.

Sunday Matthew 2.11 “On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.”

Christian worship always means these things – coming to the place where Christ is and actively seeking to find him; bowing down in adoration and offering our obedience; bringing to Christ our gifts, the service of our hearts, and the energy of our bodies. We know the words, “If I were a wise man, I would do my part; yet what I can, I give him, give my heart.” “Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!”

Bethlehem’s Glastonbury Night

All my life I worked around Bethlehem.

It’s always been sheep country. Remember David –

Just shows you how far you can go as a shepherd on the make.

Wee nuisance, singer songwriter, premier league slingshot,

Goliath killer; King of Israel; royal line of the Messiah.

From Bethlehem – just a wee village really,

but we called it the city of David – and we hoped –

we hoped for a Messiah who would give us back

all that we had lost, – land, freedom, dignity.

 

You know – the kind of hope that’s like a lump in your throat,

a hunger in the gut for justice, a thirst in the throat for peace,

an ache for new possibilities, a longing that never goes away,

an endless imagining that things can be different.

And every single hour of every day

digging out of your heart the energy to keep on believing.

Rome was our Goliath, the empire of the bully,

too powerful, cruel and organised for us to make them go away.

We needed a new David, Messiah from the line of David.

How we dreamed of those five smooth stones,

how we hoped for that one precision strike to topple Goliath of Rome.

God send to us the Son of David, we prayed –—

to a seemingly silent heaven.

 

Not going to happen. We talked about it round the night fires,

listening to sheep, smelling sheep, protecting sheep,

feeling as defenceless and stupid as sheep, fleeced by Rome.

O we had the Psalms, “WE are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”

But for the past 70 years we had been Rome’s people,

Rome’s flock, the people of Rome’s pastures,

fleeced, fenced in, and as a sheep before here shearers is dumb,

we opened not our mouths!

 

Anyway, all those years ago, like David,

I was a shepherd lad, on the hills doing nightshift.

You’ll hear folk say being a shepherd is a rubbish job,

working with animals, smelling of sheep, the great unwashed, 

long hours on the hills, minimum wage, no time off.

Right enough. It was hard going, especially on the nightshift.

We laughed at folk who couldn’t sleep, and counted sheep,

We counted sheep — and couldn’t sleep!

That night – I'll never forget it – it was freezing,

the stars shone in dark a sky,

pinhole patterns of perforated heaven, backlit by the shekinah,

yhe glory of the presence of God;

that brilliant laser holiness human eyes can never see and live.

That kind of night. 

 

Round the fire we handed round the wine and the Matzos.

We were talking about the Romans, grumbling and moaning.

Complaint is the language of those who can’t find the energy,

or the courage, or the hope, to change things.

The census: Rome commands and the world jumps in obedience;

Taxes; Rome demands and the world pays up.

Rome shouted we jumped, as high as they asked.

Rome chose the music, we danced to their tune.

There were six of us, having a complaint competition,

a fellowship held together by mutual moaning about the state of the world.

Then there was seven – where did he come from?

This strange, glowing presence, was he even human?

 

Then it was as if the sky unzipped and light spilled out!

The shekinah, the glory of God, pouring down

in great dancing flames of beautiful, terrifying, living light;

the choreography of heaven for an audience of shepherds.

Then the angel spoke, with a voice commanding

far more authority than Caesar Augustus at full volume: 

“Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

 

Do not be afraid? Fear not, Aye right.

Like, this happens every other night!

He just tells us the Messiah is arriving but it’s OK. Don’t panic!

Before we could panic, all the flames seemed to form faces,

cherubim and seraphim, the holy love of heaven with wings!

They started playing and singing the music of creation,

a flash mob of angels, the orchestration of eternity,

the music of the spheres, the theatre of God’s glory,

a full choral orchestra telling the world, Don’t be afraid!

And LED lights, LED – Love Extending Downwards,

the voice of God in synchronised music and movement,

audible light and visible sound!

 

Then darkness again, the deep darkness of lost night vision.

It wasn’t only our eyes that needed to adjust;

our whole world had just been turned upside down, and inside out –

Despair disappeared, and new hope in our hearts

echoed the energising music of heaven on the loose.

The dark silence of the fields did nothing to calm us down.

Going to Bethlehem to see for ourselves was a no brainer.

We ran; we fell and stumbled, but we got up and kept going,

propelled by wonder, breathless with the fear it might not be true.

Got to Bethlehem which was heaving with folk

trying to find accommodation pre air B&B –

No room at the inn? No room anywhere, in or out!

 

And then we found them, down the side street,

in a cul de sac, the lights still on in the downstairs byre.

A young woman, a baby wrapped in the ordinary weave of human life.

If it hadn’t been for the angel we would have said,

“Move on. Nothing to see here.”

But there he was, crying his protests at the cruel world,

then being fed, and cuddled, and put down in the feeding trough.

Not the most promising start in life.

 

But we knew better. This baby was the promised Saviour.

He it was who would give others a more promising start in life.

Life more abundant, living water and living bread.

We told anyone who would listen,

about the angel and God’s peace message,

accompanied by music with full world theatre illuminations,

the lights of heaven, the hope of our people.

We stopped people and told them – Messiah is here!

Hope is born! God has spoken peace for all people.

All God’s promises are Yes in this baby!

 

Aye we were only shepherds, but we had stood under an open heaven.

Only shepherds, but we had gate crashed an open air angel concert.

Only shepherds, but first to be told the Messiah was born.

Only shepherds, but we had found our way to Bethlehem,

The town of David, the place of promise.

Only shepherds, but first to set eyes on the Good Shepherd,

Who came amongst us as the love of God incarnate;

Only shepherds, but that light of heaven had first burst over us

the joyous dancing of stars, angels and miraculous music.

What was it all about?

It was infinity distilled to humanity,

God’s love with a human face.

Impelled we were, to see the light of the world,

God’s gift beyond words, irradiated in a baby’s birth.

In him was life and the life was the light of all people…

and shepherds like us were the first to behold his glory,

cradled in a mother’s arms, full of grace and truth.

(c) Jim Gordon. I wrote this for our last service before Christmas, and due to Covid restrictions, our last in church service for the foreseeable future. 

This is the text of this week's Pastoral Letter I sent out to our folk in Montrose Baptist Church.

Dear Friends,

I went into one of the wee shops where I buy stranded cotton threads for my tapestries. One customer at a time, hand sanitiser at the door, face coverings at all times, and the 1 metre rule between customer and the proprietor. In our quick catch-up chat We decided it didn’t feel much like Christmas. In fact, she was just wanting Christmas to be past. Now, what did I need?  I needed yellow threads; not just yellow, but sunny, bright, in your face yellow. She asked me what I wanted it for, what was I doing this time? “Bright wings,” I said. (Photo of work so far)

She looked at me over her mask, and said, “Right. Bright wings. Is that from the poem?” Just now and again these days, even with face coverings, smiles are obvious. The clue is in the eyes, the wrinkles and that instinctive recognition of someone else sharing the gladness of the joke.

“Yes”, I said. “You know it?”

“I learned it at school,” she said. The last three lines go like this:

 Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

    World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

The Christmas story has its own narrative of “bright wings”, thousands of them. The multitude of the heavenly host praising God and singing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill to all people.” As I came away from the shop, with several shades of bright yellow thread, I began thinking about the connection between one of my favourite poems, some yellow thread, the heavenly backing group for Christ’s nativity, and this difficult, dismal, depressingly diminished year we have come through.

First, the poem. It is called ‘God’s Grandeur’, and was written by Gerard Manley Hopkins in 1877. It is about the glory and grandeur of the world God has made, and the mess human industry makes by stripping the land, polluting the rivers and the air, and human lives reduced to work and the making of things and money. And at the end of the poem those three lines, affirming a deep Christian faith in the creative power of God to restore, renew and redeem a broken creation.

Second, the yellow thread will be used in my tapestry to outline the wings that brood over the world and will enfold the words “tikkun olam”, a Hebrew phrase that means “to mend the world”. This has been a slow tapestry, because like everyone else, I’ve found these months have not been easy to navigate. Motivation is hard; imagination starved; and sometimes it’s all but impossible to sit at peace for any length of time.

Then there’s the loneliness of not being able to be with all kinds of other people; and the low grade anxiety that a pandemic inevitably produces, and for months the loss of close contact and risk free interaction with all those who share our lives, from neighbours to shoppers, from friends and even family to strangers whose face we now only half see. But remember: Advent is the time when we celebrate the coming of Jesus “to mend the world”. And that coming was announced and lit up across Bethlehem by the bright wings of the messengers from God. God is still the light that radiates the bright wings of hope that still brood over our world with love untiring.    

And third, those angels, and their bright wings. The shepherds were terrified. So would you be, if some time around midnight, on darkened hillsides, ten thousand winged singers burst into view singing against the background of heaven’s brightest technicolour lights. Nine months earlier Mary had said yes to another bright winged messenger from God. Now all those promises were coming true in Bethlehem of all places, and on that night of all nights. So take heart. At the end of a year of anxiety, loss and deep uncertainty, Emmanuel – God is with us, still.

This Advent, despite all that has made this year so very hard to get through, remember, this is God’s world, and ours is a God-loved world. “The Holy Ghost over the bent world broods, with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.” And as we think of Advent and this year of the pandemic, use the old prayer that we used to sing:  O spread thy covering wings around, till all our wanderings cease, and at our Father’s loved abode, our souls arrive in peace.”

May you know the peace of Christ, and find shelter under the shadow of his wings,

Your friend and pastor,

Jim Gordon4