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BBC's Saturday night entertainment show, The Voice, has met with mixed reviews. The second series came to its conclusion last Saturday night with the live final, with Andrea Begley beating fellow Northern-Irelander and bookies' favourite Leah McFall to win the crown of The Voice 2013, and with it a lucrative recording contract (the eccentric Will-i-am, Leah's coach on the show, tweeted afterwards that he was "perplexed" by the public vote). The show has had its critics, but Sue and I have enjoyed watching the series. The four finalists had very different vocal styles, but I felt that they were all worthy of a place in the final. I wouldn't be surprised if all four go on to make a success of their singing careers.
One of the unique aspects of the show comes with the blind auditions, which is the first stage of the competition. The four potential coaches (Will-i-am, Jessie J, Tom Jones and Danny O'Donoghue) are seated with their chairs facing away from the stage and contestants. The contestants stand on the stage (out of view of the coaches) to perform their song. The idea is that the coaches make their initial judgement based not on a contestant's appearance but purely on their voice. If one of the coaches likes a contestant's voice, and wants them on their team, they press a button on the chair and the chair turns round to face the contestant. If more than one chair turns, the contestant is able to select which coach s/he prefers. Meanwhile, anxious friends and family of the contestant wait and watch, hoping that at least one coach will press the button to indicate that the contestant has gained the approval of the coach, and so will progress to the next round.
It appears that this element of the competition makes particularly popular viewing. I suppose it's the element of uncertainty: the contestants hoping, but not knowing, that one or more of Will, Jessie, Tom or Danny will want them on their team. Sometimes the chairs turn, to great joy and relief on the faces of the contestants and their supporters. On the other hand, there are times when no chair turns, and the contestants face disappointment as their dreams of fame are brought to a crushing end.
It seems to me that many people appear to view God in a similar way to the coaches on The Voice. In other words, people feel that we have to 'perform' to a certain standard to make God notice us and see that we are worthy of his attention. If we are good enough, if we do our best to try and live up to God's standards, then maybe God will turn around and see us, and call us into his team.
It is a common perception, but of course it is totally at variance with the message of the Bible. Anyone reading the Bible will see that God often chooses fallible, weak, ordinary people. I am encouraged that so many of the great men and women of God we find in the Bible were actually fairly ordinary, and often people who had made big mistakes in their life. One of my favourite Bible characters is Moses. God called Moses knowing that Moses was both a murderer and a fugutive. Even Moses himself didn't think that he had what it took to undertake the task God had called him to: he said to God, 'I am nobody'. Yet God used that 'nobody' in an amazing way.
I like a tweet I read this week from Richard Parker: "God doesn't call people who are qualified. He calls people who are willing, and then he qualifies them." The good news is that, unlike contestants in The Voice, we don't have to earn approval, certainly not from God. His love is for us, despite our failings. It truly is about his 'amazing grace.'
Yesterday was Father's Day in the UK, and I thought back to the time in 1990 when I received a telephone call informing me that my dad had been taken into hospital with what turned out to be a brain tumour. He was in and out of hospital several times over the following 12 months before he finally passed away in October 1991, surrounded by most of his family. There have been many times over the years since then when I've wished my dad was still around. At least I have some great memories which I treasure.
As a father myself I never cease to give thanks for Caz, Steph & Chris, the 3 wonderful children Sue and I have raised. Despite our inadequacies as parents, they have turned out to be surprisingly well-adjusted adults, and I am immensely proud of them. It is such a blessing to know that although they used to argue like crazy when they were children, they have developed a really strong bond in their adult years.
I am one of 6 children, and being part of a strong, loving family has been an enormous blessing to me. Sue and I have tried to create a caring, supportive family unit for our children, and I am sure that our children will endeavour to do the same for our grandchildren. The marriage service reminds us that a committed, loving relationship between a husband and wife forms a bond through which "children may be nurtured, family life strengthened, and human society enriched." It may not be P.C. to say it, but the Bible makes it abundantly clear that God's plan is for children to be nurtured in a family situation which includes both a mum and a dad, with both of them being committed to offering their own unique contribution to family life.
So for me, yesterday was mostly a day of thanksgiving. However, there was also a very real sadness in my heart, particularly as I thought of the recently published report from the Centre for Social Justice. The report highlights the sad fact that one on two children born today are unlikely to grow up with both parents, and every year an additional 20,000 people, mainly women, join the throngs of those raising children more or less single-handedly. At a conservative estimate, one million children have no meaningful contact at all with their fathers. Astoundingly, by the age of 16 a child has more chance of having a TV in their room than a father figure in their home.
The report states that children with separated, single or step-parents are 50 percent more likely to fail at school, have low self-esteem, struggle to make friends, and have behavioural issues. They often battle with anxiety or depression. The director of the Centre for Social Justice has warned of a "tsunami" of family breakdown battering the country.
All this I find immensely sad. So how to respond? Of course we should resist the temptation to stigmatise single parents, many of whom find themselves in that situation through no fault of their own and are doing a remarkable job in often difficult circumstances.
I really want to issue a challenge to my own gender and say that it's time we men took our responsibilities seriously; it's time to step up to the plate. It's so sad that our young people today are being fed the message that sex is a commodity, and for self-gratification (sex is a wonderful gift of God, but his intention is that sex happens in the context of a committed, loving relationship). There is little wonder that the teenage pregnancy rates in the UK are so high. Even when children are born in the context of a stable relationship, society sends the message that when you fall out of love, it's ok for you to simply move on to the next relationship; commitmenrt doesn't really matter.
I realise that there are situations when a relationship almost inevitably has to end. I'm equally sure that some couples give up on a relationship without any real effort to make it work (or because they don't have the necessary support to deal with problem areas). So really my challenge to all men (including myself) is that if we become fathers we really do need to take our responsibilities seriously, both to our children and to their mother. Investing love and commitment into the lives of children and young people can reap immense rewards. Being a dad can be a struggle, but at the same time it is a great privilege. None of us are perfect dads, but even if we recognise mistakes we've made in the past, there's usually opportunity to do something about it by committing to our children both now and in the future.
I realise that not everything I have written will please everyone, but it's on my heart. It's the children I fear for, especially as I remember the words of Jesus, "Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." God bless our nation's children.
One aspect of ministerial life to which I have had to become accustomed over the years is that one can expect the unexpected. I am by nature someone who likes to plan ahead, but I have learned to make my plans with the understanding that flexibility may be required when something turns up out of the blue which wasn't in the plans! I have also learned that however long one has been in ministry, there are always new things to learn and new experiences to encounter. Last week, for example, I took my first 'double funeral.'
An elderly couple, who were both members of one of my churches, happened to die within a few days of each other. One moment we were in the midst of planning the husband's funeral, the next we were faced with the reality that the wife had also died. The family decided that it would be best to have a joint funeral service. In a sense there was double sorrow. On the other hand, we were celebrating the lives of two people who had both lived to a good old age, who were devoted to each other during the course of their long and happy marriage, and who were both committed believers in Jesus Christ. As I said at the thanksgiving service, there is something beautiful and special when such a couple pass from this life into God's presence within a short time of each other.
Theirs was a close-knit family, and some family members took part in the service. One of the couple's grandsons, who was not able to be present at the funeral, sent a moving written tribute to his grandparents which I was asked to read during the service. I was both touched and challenged by some of his words:
"Whenever we visited their home they would both do their best to make us feel welcome. Grandad would spend the whole time playing with us ... he wouldn't take a break or look tired as you could tell that he really wanted to spend time with us. They made it clear that we were important to them. That dedication in time is something which has taught me to be aware of in my own life: that you should show other people that they are special and important, because it's very easy not to feel like that."
Such powerful and challenging words! It seems to me so striking that the thing this grandson remembers most about his grandparents is that they devoted time to him. As a grandparent myself, I feel that I have a lot to live up to! And the challenge is not just to grandparents; it is, I am sure, a message to all of us. Just about the most important thing we can give to another person is some of our time. It's a priceless gift.
In his early working life my late father worked as a gardener, for a time at Burton Agnes Hall, near Bridlington, East Yorkshire, and later at Bretton Hall (now the home of the Yorkshire Sculpture Park). I can imagine that for someone like my dad, who loved gardening, it was a delight to work in such beautiful surroundings (and probably very hard work too!) Although my dad subsequently took a change of career and became a sub-postmaster, he never lost his love of gardening. There were few things he enjoyed more than being out in the garden.
Sadly, although my sisters seem to have gardening talents, the green finger gene seems to have stopped there. Perhaps partly because I never seem to have had a great deal of time to devote to being in the garden, I've never really had great success on the gardening front. I suppose that if I'd been more dedicated to it, my efforts may have turned out better.
Prior to moving to Leicester last August, we had lived in Doncaster for 12 years. We had a fair size garden there, and to be honest I never really felt that I got on top of it. Any gardeners reading this will know that gardens need regular attention. There were occasions when I spent a good deal of time in the garden, and sometimes family or friends would come and help out, but it seemed to be a constant battle to keep it reasonable tidy (I am told that since we moved out of our Doncaster home, the garden has benefited from the attention of a landscape gardener - perhaps not before time!)
Whilst in Doncaster we became very aware of the proliferation of sycamore seeds. Over the years quite a number planted themselves on our front garden and began to grow in the midst of the beds. Sue quite regularly told me that I should deal with them before they became unmanageable (sycamore trees can reach to over 100 feet tall). I must confess that although I did manage to deal with most of the self-seeded sycamores, there were a couple which grew rather tall. Hopefully the landscape gardeners have now got rid of them!
I was reminded of the sycamores last weekend, when we travelled back to Doncaster to celebrate our granddaughter Beth's first birthday. Beth and her mum and dad still live in Doncaster; they have recently moved to a new house with a lovely large garden, perfect for a children's party! The problem with the garden is that it takes a great deal of effort to keep it tidy. Fortunately our son-in-law Matt's dad goes across regularly to help. When we arrived, Matt's dad was busy in the garden; I joined in by finishing off mowing the lawn. Sue then pointed out that the dreaded sycamores were invading their garden, too. I got some strong secateurs out and dealt with the offending plants there and then! No doubt they will need watching for when they start growing again.
A weed can be classified as a plant which is not wanted. The earlier weeds are dealt with, the better, or they can take over. The longer sycamores seeds are left to grow and develop, the harder they are to get rid of. It seems to me that there are some things in life which are just like this: things that underneath we know are wrong, but we kid ourselves that they aren't really all that important and can be left alone. A little white lie can seem so innocent and harmless, but left unattended it can grow into a massive deceit. We can tell ourselves that we don't need to pay attention to the small 'sin' in our life, but underneath, our conscience is being scarred, and what appears small can grow and grow. A devastating affair can start with a seemingly innocent smile across a room or an 'accidental' touching of hands; unless dealt with at that very early stage we can find ourselves on a slippery slope from which there seems no escape.
Jesus often used illustrations from the world of nature to teach people about the things of God. I am sure that the sycamore has something to say to us, and a warning to offer.
