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For as long as I can remember I have loved mosses and lichens and all the locations where they are to be found. As a boy much of the days and evenings were spent tramping over miles of moorland, climbing over old drystane dykes, squelching through marsh and bog, or walking into and through woods and pine forests. In all of these places I became aware of this lovely green stuff, and how it slowly and gently covers stone and wood, a natural and beautiful form of organic upholstery. 

Over these months we have taken to walking in the woods, some of them on our doorstep, others further afield, though not too far. Several are old forests, planted in the 19th Century, and in all that time trees have grown, seeded, and fallen;they have shed their leaves and needles year on year, until the forest floor feels like the best Axminster carpets. For those who might not have heard of Axminster, in this age of convenience laminated floor covering, allow them to introduce themselves:

"Axminster Carpets has been synonymous with carpet luxury and craftsmanship for over 250 years. We are Britain's oldest, best known and most prestigious carpet designer and manufacturer." So there! 

These woods and forests are old, maybe some of them as old as Axminster, and they are the perfect environment for mosses and lichens to flourish. What I've noticed, and once you notice it you start seeing it often, is the way moss inhabits and enfolds old tree stumps. It's almost as if the tree having gone, there's now space and enough residual organic nutrition to entertain those plants that don't need much of anything other than some hospitable living room, some occasional light, and the nearness of water.

What I've found fascinating is the capacity of moss to fill in the spaces, to cover the nakedness of rocks, and to upholster tree trunks and roots. When Jesus said the meek would inherit the earth, I know he wasn't thinking of the flora of the North East of Scotland. Nor was he making oblique references to bryology or lichenology. But the word that comes to mind when I look at, walk on, or step over, moss, is a word like meek. As Jesus used the word reported in the Gospels, the two English words used most often to translate it are meek, and gentle. There's nothing showy, loud or attention grabbing about moss. But once you notice it, you begin to see it, and it becomes part of the background pleasure of what we see. 

Take this tree stump for instance. It's old, broken and all that remains of a tree long gone. But its sharp points and jagged outlines are gentled by slowly encroaching mosses, providing a new habitat for who knows how many wee beasties and other living things.

Behind it is an ancient drystane dyke, and all around it the softening lines of moss covered stones, and alongside it a young holly tree. A dead tree stump is an encourager of life, sculptured by the years and clothed in shades of living green.

The meek shall inherit the earth. Those who gently intrude into places of little promise, and make them live again. Those whose presence makes possible new environments and living spaces and possibilities. Those who provide background colour and cover, texture and tone. Moss is a miracle of the mundane, a sacrament of life's patient persistence, a parable of change and decay in the cycle and circle of life. The moss covered rock is an interface of ancient geology and transient plant forms. The tree stump slowly clothed with moss bears testimony to what used to be, and what is now becoming. Moss is a specialist in slow, an understatement, but a true statement, of life finding ways to downsize and survive.

There have been times when walking in the woods and coming across old moss-covered tree stumps, familiar melancholic words have resurfaced: "Change and decay in all around I see, O Thou who changest not abide with me.." I know. Life's hard enough just now without humming funereal tunes. But actually I don't find those words depressing, or melancholic. They simply say what is. Change and decay are built into life, all of life, and each life. The Creator and giver of life  transcends transience, and is both Light and Life.

The moss covered tree stump is simply a reminder that we live in the temporary now. When I see the modest beauty of life at the later stages in such a photo, the deeper instinct is to trust the abiding presence of the One who calls us to live in the temporary now with an eye on the eternal Now. The mystery of our existence is beyond our fathoming; but the mundane miracle of moss is at least a reminder that our life is rooted and grounded in Love beyond our knowing.  

Yesterday was a day of high literary significance for me! It involved the delivery of a new chair, as pictured. On the wise assumption that reading is enhanced by comfort, context and location, I decided on a chair that fits my current size, shape and literary purposes. It's a small armchair, which fits me and suits me. I deliberately avoided choosing one of those chairs that are so comfortable and spacious, it's easier to fall asleep than to read. This wee beauty fits exactly into the space by the window and the radiator, near the heat and light.

This is a reading chair. No, that's not what it's called or how it's styled. But that will be its purpose; a place to sit and read, think, pray and listen. The study is already that kind of place of course, but there's a difference between reading, studying and consulting books at the desk, and reading and paying attention to one particular book as it is read from start to finish. 

For that you need comfort, space, and perhaps the deliberate training of the mind that, when you sit here, in this chair, you are moving into a different mode of learning, thinking and being. Over a lifetime of reading you learn to distinguish between reading that is informative, or formative or transformative; some books are a combination of these.

I'm thinking that at this stage of my life, I could do with a place for unhurried reflection, or imaginative rethinking of ideas that have become too comfortable and familiar. A place too for storytelling and story reading as a way of exploring how I have come to be me. But definitely a place for non-acquisitive enjoyment of what others think, feel and have experienced in their own search for understanding, wisdom and a life worth living.

I've had a reading chair before, of course, and I've often wondered why over the years I slowly became fixed to the desk. I blame the laptop, and the long learned and lived habits of writing on a keyboard to gather, accumulate, organise and harvest the fruits of all that reading! It's more complicated than that, but there's no doubt that information technology, the online world encyclopedia, and the infinite library of knowledge accessed by keyboard, has revolutionised the way we think, learn, and learn to think. Every day I benefit from this revolution like everyone else, and I'm grateful for it and would find life without the online world so much more limited. But it has its limits, this online world of unlimited information.

Which brings me back to books, and a reading chair. A book is such a beautiful concept, and its inbuilt finitude is an essential element of that beauty. For example. A novel creates a world in which the story is told; you read it and much that makes you human is invited, persuaded, even compelled to respond. But a novel has an ending and a resolution. And it is just that capacity to linger in the memory as a continuing lesson in human experience, that makes the novel such a powerful agent of transformation. 

Poetry, on the other hand, provokes and encourages an openness to other ways of seeing the world, ourselves, and what matters. But a poem too is finite, and indeed its form and constraint are essential poetic disciplines, requiring the reader to work at it, to feel and think and imagine new ways to the truth of who they are. One of the finest poets understood this deeply, and well: "I have always thought of poems as stepping stones in one's own sense of one's self." (Seamus Heaney) 

Biography is the narrative of a life, and it matters greatly who writes it. Hagiography and hatchet jobs are the two extremes to be avoided. A well written biography has to be critically appreciative, selectively comprehensive, recount a narrative with impetus but interpreted and illumined by reflection on context, character and an evaluative honesty about the subject's achievement and significance. All of which depends on the integrity, skill, humanity and self-effacing instincts of the biographer.

As a theologian I read theology books, all the way through. Of course I do, you'd think that would be obvious. But I have in mind the kind of theology that unsettles untroubled complacency; writing and thinking about the mystery of God that provokes thought by asking awkward questions we'd prefer to silence; reading therefore theology that expands the dimensions of mind and heart to accommodate new ideas, because God is the new wine that bursts those useful and safe old conceptual wineskins that long ago were new but now need renewed. Not many theological books accomplish that. In my own reading they would perhaps fill a shelf or two if gathered together in one place. Which are they? That may be a post for another time.  

A reading chair, then, or at least this one, is for novels, poetry, biographies, theology, and other books intended to be read through, thought about, and allowed to linger in the mind, inform the imagination, and go on doing their work in the heart. So, what will be the first book read in the reading chair? The other day I took down a book I first read 8 years ago. It is more important today than it was then. So the first book will be a re-read: The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction, Alan Jacobs, (Oxford: 2011). I'll let you know how I get on.  

Just before the lock down in March, one of my friends who is an experienced mountaineer, had a serious and near fatal fall on a mountain in the Lake District. He lost his footing and his six hundred foot fall came to a halt just 20 feet short of a precipice. He was airlifted to hospital with fractures to his neck, left elbow and right ankle, and three deep cuts to his head which required 60 stitches, and a series of lacerations which were described by medics as looking like the gouge of a lion’s claw.

Last week Richard went back to thank the Mountain Rescue Team (MRT) and the A&E Dept. which received him and stabilised his condition. There were gifts, photos and emotional words of thank you. On his Facebook post about his visit there's a photo of Richard and a young nurse. “This is Laura”, he wrote. “She is the A&E nurse who looked after me for the evening after the helicopter delivered me to hospital in Carlisle. And, because I hadn't eaten anything for 12 hours, when Laura finished her shift – at midnight – she went to the 24-hour Tesco and bought me some food to eat and brought it to me on the ward, before heading home. That is called going the extra mile. Be like Laura.”

Richard is a Training Director with the Scottish Episcopal Church. He has spent many years developing mission strategy for the Church, was Principal of International Christian College where I first met him, and is still a key player in the formation of church leaders. What struck me about this story is the coincidence of human brokenness and the habits of kindness. Two people who had never met, are suddenly thrust into a relationship in which one is entirely dependent on the professional skill, and vocational commitment of the other.

Except visiting Tesco after midnight to buy food for a stranger is no part of a nursing degree, or a continuing professional development assignment. Which is a long, roundabout way to that other hillside, where Jesus made the radical suggestion, “If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.” Roman soldiers could give that order, and force someone to carry their equipment for a stated distance. People did that. But resented it, and did the minimum required.

Those who are children of God, followers of Jesus seeking to live by the rules of the Kingdom of God, act differently. By going a second mile we turn a duty into a gift, and constraint into freedom. We choose to be considerate, kind, of service to someone, beyond any claim they might have on us.

All of this had me thinking about how hard it is to make sense of what’s been happening these past months. Face coverings, physical distancing, hand hygiene, staying away from crowded places – no wonder folk are getting irritable, anxious, depressed and losing social confidence. And if I ask, “How best can I show the love of God in the shops, on the road, in conversation with neighbours”, perhaps it’s Laura the A&E nurse who has something to teach us about mission, service, grace and the enacted love of God. Go the second mile. Choose to do more than you need to. Live out of an overflow of grace. Make kindness the default setting of each encounter with another person. Use the element of surprise, do the unexpected, because the grace which has touched our lives in Christ is both of these – unexpected, and a surprise.

Have you ever wondered about the God who goes the second mile? “He was rich, but for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might become rich.” (2 Cor. 8.9) “God demonstrates his own love for us in this way; while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Rom 5.8) For Christians, going the second mile isn’t unheard of; it is simply to do things God’s way. Healing for our brokenness, forgiveness for our sins, kindness towards us in Christ, welcome to the least, last and lost, new creation for the heart in the power of the Spirit, springs of living water welling up to eternal life; God did none of that out of necessity, but from love. Grace is the gift of the second mile God, who in Christ came amongst us, walked with us, lived a sinless life of self-giving love, and when sinful humanity, ourselves included, have nothing left to offer, no further steps to take, He walked the second mile for us, to Calvary.

These are difficult times. But they are also times when Christians are called to witness to the God of the second mile. Kindness to anxious shoppers, understanding of people’s fear, attentive to those who struggle with loneliness, patience and restraint with folk who’ve just had enough, and that phone call, card, text, email that interrupts people’s feeling that no one takes much interest in them. As my friend Richard said, “Be like Laura.” As Paul said, “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus”. Imagine a church being able to be called, by others, not themselves, "The People of the Second Mile"!

"Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt 5.10)

It's an interesting thought that getting into trouble is inevitable for those who faithfully follow Jesus. You could argue that if as a Christian, my life is untroubled and in harmony with all that's going on around me, I have settled for less than the least of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus. 

TheQuestions of justice, peace and mercy are not optional interests for those who are into that kind of thing. They lie at the heart of what it means to live as a child of God, to conduct ourselves as a citizen of the Kingdom of God, to be committed as a follower of Jesus.

Paul told the Roman believers, "The kingdom of God is…righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit." (Rom 14.17) Christian living is counter cultural and endlessly questioning of all those everyday situations when people are treated unjustly, when life is made harder for the vulnerable, and people are diminished by systems loaded against them. Any reading of the Gospels confronts us with Jesus causing trouble for the powerful, questioning the acceptance of human suffering, challenging with anger and compassion the complacency of the rich, the powerful and those served best by the status quo. 

To be persecuted because of righteousness, means to be in trouble for not remaining silent about poverty that dehumanises, and hunger which demoralises. It is to notice, and pay attention to, and refuse to be complicit in structures and systems that grind down the poor, inflate the resources of the rich, create oceans and mountains of waste to satisfy the inordinate greed of global consumerism.

I know. That's all political, and whatever else the Sermon on the Mount was about, it was never spoken, remembered and written as a solution to global capitalism or as an alternative political platform for economic visionaries. Except that the underlying assumptions of the Beatitudes are full on contradictions of human life organised on assumptions of domination, exploitation, exclusion, individual self-interest, and life as economic and social rivalry.

In other words, the Sermon on the Mount sets the follower of Jesus on a collision course with all those forms of injustice that are built in assumptions of systemic power, constructed social worlds of exclusion, the reification of profit as the be all and end all of human life, and that contentment and complacency with the status quo so deeply characteristic of those for whom systems of exploitation are working well thank you very much.   

Which means to follow Jesus is to be out of step with the working assumptions of "the world", which in the New Testament is shorthand for "the way the world is organised." A Christian community is "a community of contradiction", "an incendiary fellowship", "a new humanity". Each of these phrases is the title of a book written by the Quaker philosopher Elton Trueblood. They are telling phrases, and deeply indebted to the teaching of Jesus.

I suppose one way of quality checking our Christian obedience to Jesus is to ask if this Beatitude comes anywhere near reality in our life experience. And if not, we may wish to consider the world that is our daily world, of work, family, neighbourhood, and media mediated realities. When was I last persecuted for righteousness sake? When has my life been made harder by my protest at injustice, my persistent contradiction of lies, my questioning of the way things are for the poor, the hungry, the uncared for and the homeless?

I guess if I am living in a comfort zone, I'm doing this Christian thing all wrong. And I will only be Blessed, when my passion for righteousness, for things to be done rightly, justly, and humanely, ignites and fuels a life that cares enough to get into trouble for righteousness' sake.    
 

Matthew 5.9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.” 

Who does God recognise as his children? Peace makers; bridge builders; reconciled reconcilers; lovers of enemies. Yes, that last one too. We are Christ’s ambassadors, ministers of reconciliation; not troublemakers, but peacemakers. God’s children bear the Father’s likeness, and are living reminders of “the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus.” (Hebrews 12.20)

Interestingly that Benediction in Hebrews comes a few verses after these no nonsense words: “Make every effort to live in peace with everyone…” v14 Being a peacemaker isn’t a part time interest, or a speciality for some; it is a barcode identity marker of the Christian. One of the more ridiculous ironies in the history of the Church, and in the history of many a local congregation, is that those called to be peacemakers have been more interested in being troublemakers.

Before Paul ever gets to the Fruit of the Spirit he draws up a mind boggling list of the Fruits of the flesh – you can read them all here at Galatians 5.19-21. Only then, read 5.22-23. Those who are led by the Spirit walk in the Spirit, are enabled by the Spirit, become instruments of the Spirit. Hence St Francis’ prayer, “Lord make me an instrument of your peace.”

In the office when likes and dislikes harden into alliances of them and us; waiting at the checkout and the person ahead of you has a handful of money off vouchers and it takes ages; the driver who ignores the lane closure signs and cuts in ahead of those sticking to the limit; racist or discriminatory comments left unchallenged; family fallouts that start as a wee line in the sand and threaten to become a grand canyon of grievances; the email that seems curt, inconsiderate, even just plain ignorant (in the Scottish sense!). Be like Florence Allshorn.

Florence Allshorn was a missionary who gave up the mission field and founded a College for missionary training because she had had enough of missionaries arguing, narking, competing, creating toxic relationships and contradicting the very Gospel they were called and sent to preach. She wrote in her journal, “All around us are situations going wrong, and our Lord asks us to share in his work and redeem them.”

Be like Florence Allshorn. Be an instrument of peace, a peace-builder, a peace maker, a peace giver. That way you begin to mirror the God of peace who in Christ reconciles all things, making peace by the blood of the cross.” (Col 1.21) Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Shalom. 

Matthew 5.8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

Meekness, mercy, purity – these are not the way to popularity, influence and affluence in our culture. But they are the essential qualities of the Kingdom of God, that inner world where God rules in our hearts. The pure of heart are those who know they are sinners, know they are forgiven, and know the love of God in Jesus – and in seeing Jesus, they see and come to know God.

“Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” These words of David would be deeply familiar to Jesus, the Son of David. The pure in heart is the person whose heart is clean and whose spirit is made right.

In biblical terms the heart is more than that physiological organ that keeps us alive by beating approximately every second of our lives. The heart is the centre of the affections, the starting place of our motivations, one of the governors of our behaviour and actions. When we choose and decide and think, we form our attitudes, our character and our values. The heart is the debating chamber where we decide what matters, and what matters most to us.

So we have a prayer: “Create in me a clean heart O God and renew a right spirit within me.” And we have a promise: “Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God. How do we move from that prayer that knows the heart is sinful, to that promise that knows the heart can be cleansed and made pure?

As Christians we get it wrong, often. Christians of all people know they are sinners, and serial offenders at that. How to have a pure heart? The 80 something year old Apostle John knew the problem, and in his pastoral letter to the wee house groups in Ephesus he wrote:  “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

So there it is. Blessed are the pure in heart, the promise to those who know to pray “Create in me a clean heart O God.” And the promise to those who know that if we sin, – and however hard we try not to, we do – if we confess our sins, God is faithful and just and will forgive and cleanse us.

Just as I am – Thy love unknown Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone, -O Lamb of God, I come!

Just as I am – of that free love, the breadth, length, depth, and height to prove,
Here for a season, then above, -O Lamb of God, I come!

Matthew 5.7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”

Mercy is a soft word that makes tough demands. Mercy is more than empathy and compassion; it is a standard of behaviour, a habit of the heart, a call to action for those who seek first the Kingdom of God. Generous giving, compassionate care, practical help, honest to goodness kindness, costly forgiveness, – these make up the barcode that when scanned, identifies true followers of Jesus.

To be moved to pity by someone else’s suffering, hardship, problems and their struggle just to get on with life, is to be like Jesus. The number of times we’re told “he looked and he had compassion”; one of the most telling moments was “When he saw the crowds he had compassion on them, for they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd…”(Matthew 9.36)

And what did Jesus do? He got them settled, comfortable and fed them. The feeding of the 5000 was miracle enough; but it was also a demonstration of mercy, compassion, practical care for people who were struggling. I suppose the other obvious clue comes from the parable of the Good Samaritan. You know, the one who was just as busy, just as nervous, as everyone else walking the robbers’ no man’s land on the way to Jericho. He saw, had compassion, poured oil, put him on his own donkey, paid his bill, said he’d pay any extra costs personally; that’s being merciful.

We live in a world where there can be extraordinary acts of kindness, gestures of generosity, the kind of goodness that takes you aback. But we also live in a world too busy to notice, where the phone in the hand is the centre of attention as we walk by, where we celebrate overblown celebrity and tolerate under-funded poverty.

When Jesus said, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy” he made a promise that like all the other Beatitudes can transform lives, our own, and others’. Living this Beatitude changes life, and makes us part of the change.

Think of it as a chain reaction of compassion, we care because God cares for us. Our kindness is simply the overflow of the kindness of God to us. We love because he first loved us. Jesus isn’t arguing that it’s in our best interests to be merciful; he’s saying, if you are seeking the Kingdom of God, it starts by doing to others as God has done with us. We too have our struggles, and we too have had our blessings. In the lives of others don’t add to their struggles, add to their blessings.

Here’s how that happens: “God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” Romans 5.5. Being merciful is being the conduit through which the overflowing love of God flows outward to others.

(The photo was taken in Carnie Woods, a mile from our door, and one of the places where your feet walk on old paths, amongst old trees.)

Matthew 5. 6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.”

Hunger and thirst are basic human drives, and they are about our survival. We need food to nourish, and water to refresh. Jesus is congratulating those who feel injustice like a hunger, and long for the emptiness that others feel to be filled, and satisfied. The life that is made right with God, hungers for that same rightness to be blessing for others.

The word righteousness has deep roots in Christian theology and experience. It means to be put right with God, but once that is accomplished, we are co-opted into God’s great purpose of making right. That takes us into repairing, restoring and renewing a broken and fallen world. That’s why we talk of the Gospel of peace, of reconciliation, of justice and of love for neighbour.

Again it is Luke who in his Beatitudes gets to the physical and material realities of what happens in a world of unrighteousness. (Luke 6. 20-22) When others are hungry, poor, or weeping, but we are satisfied with more than enough, and life is good for us but terrible for others, then to hunger and thirst for righteousness is to recognise the brokenness of the world, and in Jesus name find ways to make it right.

When the prophet Micah spoke the word of the Lord it wasn’t primarily or only about personal holiness. His concern was about the unjust, unequal, compassionless society in which the rich flourished and the poor suffered. “He has told you people what is good, and what does the Lord require of you? But to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6.8)

Jesus spent so much of his time feeding the hungry, eating with the lonely, giving a drink to a thirsty woman at a well, turning water into wine. And the permanent sign of God’s gracious love and the binding of humanity to God through the cross, is bread and wine, food for body and soul.

So when we truly hunger and thirst for righteousness, we know deeply and surely, that the work of the Kingdom of God is about feeding the hungry, giving refreshment to the thirsty, visiting the sick and the lonely, caring for each human being as one of the least of Christ’s brothers and sisters.

The love of God for the world is itself a hunger and thirst for righteousness. From all eternity there is a deep yearning in the Father heart of God to welcome home his children, to restore the ruined masterpiece of creation, and to make right the relationships that have gone wrong. But the promise stands; those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be filled and satisfied by a world redeemed in Christ.

Meekness isn’t amongst the qualities that tend to turn up on CV’s in the person’s recognised strengths box. Which is a pity. In biblical times the word was used of an ox yoked to the plough. It means strength harnessed to purpose. Those who are seeking the Kingdom of God do so meekly, with quiet, determined purpose in the strength of God.

Isn’t it interesting that Jesus seldom praises speed, and often commends slow and steady. The seed grows secretly and slowly; yeast does its work gradually and pervasively; the Samaritan interrupts his own agenda and takes the rest of the day to help the ‘man who fell among thieves’; the Father waited, and waited, and waited for his son to appear round the distant corner on the way home. Mind you the father then embarrassed himself by running like a teenager down the main street to hug his son and throw a flash mob party.

Remember I mentioned how so much that Jesus taught, and so much of how he behaved and treated people, was counter-intuitive? Congratulating the meek is another case in point. And here’s something else to ponder:

"Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

That word gentle? It’s the same word Jesus used in the Beatitude, meek. Christ-likeness is more about meekness than power playing, self-assertion, self-sufficiency, or any number of other self-centred self-descriptions. The call to discipleship is a call to follow, with faithful persistence, trustful patience, and meek obedience.

But remember, meek does not mean mere compliance or lacking in backbone, energy or drive. It is our whole being harnessed to purpose in the work of the Kingdom of God. We take the yoke of the gentle Christ on our shoulders, discover it is cross-shaped, and then we follow him to Calvary, and beyond to the empty tomb, and beyond that as he goes before us into whatever future we are called to live.

John Bunyan: I have loved to hear my Lord spoken of, and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot.”