Don't leave it until it's too late

Christmas time is my favourite time of the year.  I guess that this arises partly through my happy childhood Christmas memories, when as a family we eagerly gathered round the Christmas tree on Christmas morning as Dad handed out the presents which were lying beneath the tree.  Then came the Christmas morning service at church, followed by Christmas lunch and some enjoyable family time together.  I can't say that watching the Queen's speech was on the agenda in those early days because for the first few years of my life we didn't have a TV!  We probably spent time playing games, having fun and generally enjoying each other's company.

I am not ashamed to say that the childlike excitement for and love of Christmas has never left me.  Even though Christmas can be a busy time for church leaders, with lots of special events and services during the period, I still love this time.  I love the lights, the decorations, the giving and receiving of gifts, the cards and letters from friends, special church events, the family times and all that goes with the season.  This year we hosted our annual family party at our manse, and it was just was well that we had moved to a bigger manse during the year as there were around 28 of us for tea!  Sadly, my brother Phil and his family in New Zealand were not able to be with us, but we were able to enjoy a video message from Phil (a bit like watching the queen's speech!)  Another Christmas of great memories.

I am very conscious, however, that for a significant number of people this Christmas will have been a far from happy time.  A couple of days before Christmas I received a phone call from a local funeral director enquiring whether I would be able to take two funeral services early in the new year.  Two ladies had died, leaving behind their husbands and families.  Losing someone is always difficult, but I wonder whether losing someone around Christmas might be particularly hard.  The bereaved have to face a time of immense sadness when many around are having fun and enjoying time with loved ones.  Not only that, but each succeeding Christmas will bring back memories of the loss.

One of the most talked about adverts of this Christmas was created by German company, Adeka.  It features an elderly gentleman who has to spend each Christmas alone because his family are apparently too busy to come and spend time with him.  He decides that the only way to get them to come is to fake his own death; when they arrive, thay are in for a big surprise!  You can watch the advert HERE.  It is a poignant and powerful reminder of the danger we all face of allowing ourselves to become so busy that we neglect vital relationships.  There will come a time when many of those close to us are no longer around, and our chance to spend time with them will have gone. We watched that ad in church on Sunday morning and we had a time of quiet reflection to consider whether there was someone we ought to make contact with.  Sometimes a phone call, a letter or a visit can mean so much.  Don't leave it until it's too late.

The cracked toadstool

Apologies to anyone reading my blog who has already heard me talking about my cracked toadstool!

I realise that envy isn't really a good characteristic to have, but there is a sense in which I really do envy those people who have the gift of using their hands creatively, either to make things or to fix things.  If anything goes wrong in our house, Sue is usually much more able at fixing it than I am, and despite my best efforts I was never any good at practical lessons at school (woodwork, metalwork etc.)  I have to console myself with the knowledge that God gives each of us different gifts and talents!

One of my churches held a Christmas Market a few weeks ago.  It was wonderful to be able to welcome many members of our local community into our church building.  The dance group which uses our hall put on a display of dancing; there was lots of scrummy food on offer, and many other opportunities to buy Christmas gifts.  There was also many opportunities for conversation.

As I wandered round, I came across a table containing lots of beautiful wooden objects which had skilfully been created by a friend called John.  I knew from past experience that John was good at making things, and he especially enjoys working with wood.  As I looked at the table, one object in particular caught my eye; it was a toadstool, which John had caringly shaped and polished.

When I pointed the toadstool out, John seemed a little sheepish, and reluctant for me to have it.  The reason?  Down one side was a large crack, which had apparently happened when the wood had dried out.  Despite the crack, I was really drawn to the toadstool, and I said to John that I was sure I could use it in a sermon.  'If you can use it in a sermon,' he said, 'I'll give it to you!'  I took advantage of John's generous offer, and also bought another item which I have used as a Christmas decoration.

Since that time, I have used the toadstool in two school assemblies and also at a carol service!  I'm not absolutely sure why, but I find it strangely attractive.  For some reason it stood out from all the other objects on the table, perhaps for the very reason that it was imperfect.  It now sits on a bookcase in my study, and I look at it often.  To me, at least, it speaks very powerfully of the Christmas message.

As God looks at the wonderful world he created, his heart breaks.  He sees the mess we've made of life, both as a whole human race and each of us as individuals.  We live in a 'cracked' world, and we are all 'cracked' people; far from perfect, far from God's intention for us.  Of course, God would have every right to wash his hands of us and discard us because of our many imperfections.  Yet in his great love he did the opposite, he came and lived among us, ultimately laying down his life so that we might know forgiveness and new life.

Every time I look at that cracked toadstool I think of our cracked world and I think of my cracked life, and I thank God for his amazing love.  That's why we celebrate Christmas.

’The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned.’     Isaiah 9:2

Despised and rejected

I was reading this week the results of a survey which looked at people's attitudes towards certain professions.  The three professions which came bottom of the pile were politicians (who were at very the bottom), journalists and bankers.  The results are not surprising because, rightly or wrongly, there is a general attitude of mistrust and dislike towards those who work in these professions.

I have often heard it said that in the culture into which Jesus was born in the 1st century the job of shepherd was one which came towards the bottom of the pile in terms of social status.  In preparation for a short talk I am due to be giving, I thought that I'd do a bit of research to discover the reality about the status of shepherds in 1st century life.  It transpires that the poor old shepherds were even worse off than I'd expected!

One website I came across stated, "In Christ’s day, shepherds stood on the bottom rung of the Palestinian social ladder. They shared the same unenviable status as tax collectors and dung sweepers."  Shepherds were officially labelled “sinners” - a technical term for a class of despised people.  Apparently The Mishnah, Judaism’s written record of the oral law, refers to shepherds in belittling terms. One passage describes them as “incompetent”; another says no one should ever feel obligated to rescue a shepherd who has fallen into a pit!  One commentator has written that, “To buy wool, milk or a kid from a shepherd was forbidden on the assumption that it would be stolen property.”  He also documents the fact that shepherds were deprived of all civil rights. They could not fulfill judicial offices or be admitted in court as witnesses.  All-in-all, we get a very dismal picture of the life of a shepherd.

Knowing these facts about shepherds makes the appearance of angels to announce the birth of the Messiah first of all to shepherds in a field all the more remarkable.  One would have expected that the amazing news would be announced first to priests or royalty.  Instead, the message of 'good news that will cause great joy for all the people' is given to humble shepherds watching over their flocks at night.

So what does this tell us?  Two important things, it seems to me.  Firstly, that Jesus Christ came into the world for ALL people, certainly not just for the rich or powerful. The good news proclaimed by the angels is for EVERYONE!   Jesus himself said, 'I have not come to call those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners.' (Mark 2:17)  

The second point relates to the truth or otherwise of the account.  Some have suggested that the gospel stories were made up by the disciples to trick people into believing.  If that was the case, would they really make up a story which has shepherds (whose testimony is inadmissible in a court of law) as those who first heard about Messiah's birth?

The shepherds' involvement in the nativity story gives much cause for thought!

The ministry of prayer

On of the realities of life as a Methodist Minister is that one lives in a church-owned house.  In some ways that's a positive thing.  It means that if anything goes wrong with the house, or some remedial work needs doing, then someone else looks after it.  There are, however, two main downsides with living in a manse, the first being that because it doesn't belong to us we are not free to do what we like with it, as we would be if it was ours.  We are always aware that it's not our property, and after we move on someone else will come to live in it.

The second main drawback with living in a manse is the fact that it is not only our home but it is also the base for my working life.  When I worked as an accountant, after work I went home, and there was a clear separation between my work life and my home life.  Generally speaking, I could leave work issues at work; home was for my personal and non-work life.  Living in a manse, there is no such clear separation.

Partly with that in mind, some years ago Sue and I bought a little flat in Scarborough.  Our intention was that we could use it as a "bolt-hole," and when we lived in Doncaster we were able to nip up to Scarborough fairly regularly.  It's not so easy now that we live in Leicester, but perhaps because we get up there relatively infrequently these days, we appreciate the opportunities even more.

One of our tasks before we leave the flat to return home is to read the gas and electricity meters.  Reading the gas meter is a relatively straightforward matter; the electricity meter is somewhat more problematic, because it is situated in one of the other flats.  The day before we were due to return home after a recent visit, Sue nipped down to read our meter.  When the lady who owns the flat opened the door, they got into conversation.  We don't know the lady well, though have seen her and chatted briefly on occasions.  Neither do we know much about her background, but as far as we were aware she wasn't particularly a "religious" person.  

The lady shared with Sue about a particularly difficult and intractable health issue which she was facing.  Sue's response was to say, "I'm not sue what I can do to help, but I can certainly offer to pray for you."  With that, the lady collapsed into Sue's arms, gave her a big hug, and said "Oh, thank you, yes please!"  Sue was able, there and then, to pray with her about the situation she was facing.  The lady was so very grateful for the offer and experience of Sue's prayer.  It was a real expression of Christian love and compassion, and I'm not sure whether I would have thought to have even made the offer.

Over my years as a Methodist Minister I have met lots of people through funerals, weddings etc., many of whom have little or no church connection.  Yet in the vast majority of occasions when I have offered to pray before I leave, the answer has been "yes please."  I never force it on anyone, but most are delighted with the offer.  Prayer is such a wonderful gift to us.  Through it we connect with our Creator; through it God touches us in ways we perhaps cannot fully put into words.  To paraphrase a former well-known advert, prayer reaches things nothing else can reach!

Thoughts on Abigail and Barney

I was slightly amused (and bemused) to discover that a decision has been taken to give names to significant storms which appear from time to time in the UK.  Apparently the names have been chosen following a public vote; the intention is to help raise awareness of severe weather when storms are due, and to encourage people to act to protect themselves.  The storms will be named in alphabetical order as they arrive; personally, I am anticipating 'Steve'! 

Though the first two named storms, 'Abigail' and 'Barney', have hardly compared in scale and ferocity with the hurricanes and storms which have been experienced in some parts of the world, they have nevertheless caused damage and disruption, and significant numbers of householders found themselves temporarily without power.  My daughter and son-in-law woke this morning to discover that their greenhouse was in next door's garden, thanks to Barney!

This has put me in mind of the hymn "Rock of Ages", written in 1763 by the wonderfully named Augustus Montague Toplady.  Tradition has it that the hymn was inspired by an incident in the gorge of Burrington Combe in the Mendip Hills.  The story goes that Toplady was travelling along the gorge when he was caught in an (unnamed!) violent storm.  He found shelter in a gap in the gorge, and thus came the first words of the hymn: "Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee" (referring to security found in God).

The events of the past week, with horrific and deathly terrorist attacks in both Beirut and Paris, have reminded us (if such was needed) of the violent and uncertain times in which we live.  Many have called for an immediate and strong response, though I really do wonder whether responding with yet more bombs etc. will only add further to the ongoing cycle of violence and bloodshed, in which so many innocent people get caught.

For many people, life is filled with fear, uncertainty and anxiety.  It appears as though we are caught in a vicious storm, and we wonder where we can run to safety.  It seems to me that Augustus Toplady's hymn, though written over 250 years ago and in somewhat antiquated language, nevertheless has a message of real hope.  True and lasting security can be found in God alone.  Toplady died at the relatively young age of 38.  By all accounts his last hours, as he lay on his deathbed, were filled with an amazing assurance of God's presence, and faith that he (Toplady) was safe eternally in God's hands.

As St Paul wrote in his letter to Christians in Rome, who were experiencing times of great persecution, 'There is nothing in all creation that will ever be able to separate us from the love of God which is ours through Christ Jesus our Lord.'  That's what I call real security!

Learning the lessons of history

In 1996 the tradition of holding an Act of Remembrance on 11 November each year (as well as on Remembrance Sunday) was reinstated in the village of Glenfield, where I live.  This takes place at the War Memorial which is situated in the grounds of the local Parish Church of St Peter’s.  The Rector of St Peter’s retired a few months ago, and as the church is still awaiting the arrival of a new Rector, I was asked to lead the service.

One of the difficulties associated with observing the two minutes’ silence is in trying to arrange the service so that the silence falls at the correct time of 11am.  It was especially important at St Peter’s, as the church clock strikes on the hour.  I was hugely relieved, therefore, when within a couple of seconds of the bugler finishing his rendition of the "Last Post", the clock began to strike 11.  It was a poignant moment.

Research undertaken by the Royal British Legion suggests that there are still considerable numbers, particularly of younger people, who do not realise the significance of Armistice Day; that it was on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918 that the guns of Europe fell silent.  After four years of bitter fighting, The Great War was finally over.  The following year King George V issued a proclamation which called for a two minute silence at 11am on 11th November, and Acts of Remembrance were conducted throughout Britain and the Commonwealth.  It came to symbolise the end of the war and provide an opportunity to remember all those who had died

In cities, towns and villages up and down the country, memorials such as the one at St Peter’s were created to commemorate the sacrifice of those local people who lost their lives.  Such memorials usually have inscribed upon them a list of the names of those who died.  To some, the memorials may appear simply that: a list of names.  In reality, each name represents a family torn apart, a precious life lost, hopes and dreams brought to a premature end.

There are some who say that human beings have no need of God and that we can manage perfectly well on our own.  It seems to me that one only has to look around the world today and see what horrors we continue to inflict on one another to see how false that idea is.  Wars still go on; men and women still engage in untold violence; injustice and oppression continue.  It is right to give thanks for those who gave their lives for others, but we must not let their sacrifice be in vain.  Let us learn the lessons of history.

On Remembrance Sunday I put a verse from the Old Testament prophecy of Isaiah on my Facebook page:

'He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into ploughshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war any more.' Isaiah 2:4

A friend commented: “May it be soon.”  To that I say: Amen!

Completing the circle

Two totally different thoughts have been going round in my mind recently and, perhaps surprisingly, connecting.  The first relates to the AntiVirus programme which I use on my laptop, AVG.  AVG offer a free version of their AntiVirus programme which can easily be downloaded.  It's probably not the most effective AntiVirus software available, but it rates fairly well in comparisons with other similar software, and what's more, it's free!

I recently updated my Antivirus and as I was waiting for the process to be completed I noted that on the screen of my laptop there was an AVG diagram with the headline "An Incomplete Circle."  Its purpose was to remind me that although AVG Free does offer a good level of protection, it is only if I upgraded to the full version (which, of course, involved a cost), that I would be fully protected!

The other subject of my reflections is a book which I have recently begun to read.  The author is Phillip Keller, and the title of the book is "A Shepherd Looks At Psalm 23."  Keller worked at one time as a shepherd, and although I haven't yet got all that far into the book, already I have found some of his insights into the life of the shepherd and the relationship between shepherd and sheep extremely interesting.

Jesus said of himself, 'I am the Good Shepherd,' and Keller teases out some of the depths of meaning in that saying.  Of course, one of the main responsibilities of the shepherd is to take care of and protect the sheep under his care (can you see where this is leading?)  Also, and very significantly, Jesus stated, 'I am the the gate for the sheep.'  Jesus' first listeners would know exactly what he meant.  At night time the shepherd would lead the sheep into a pen, perhaps made up of rocks piled on top of one another.  There would be no gate, so the shepherd would himself lay across the entrance to the pen, thus providing all the protection the sheep required from wild animals etc.  In other words, he would complete the circle.

If we have put our lives into the hands of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, then we can rest assured that we are safe in his keeping.  And that's so good to know.

Legacy

Two or three weeks ago I received an "Amazon Local" offer which included entry for two people to Barnsdale Gardens, together with afternoon tea, at a very reasonable rate.  My mind immediately went back to the days when the BBC programme Gardeners' World, presented by the late Geoff Hamilton, came from Barnsdale.  I hadn't realised that Barnsdale was not for from the town of Oakham, which is itself only around 25 miles from where we live.  Last Friday Sue and I travelled across to Barnsdale and thoroughly enjoyed both our walk rounds the gardens and our delicious afternoon tea!

Geoff Hamilton presented Gardeners' World for many years, until his untimely death in 1996.  He was much loved by the many who enjoyed his friendly and informative style of presentation, which was down-to-earth, honest and spiced with humour.  He was an early advocate of the organic approach to gardening long before it became more fashionable.  I must confess that I watched Gardeners' World much more often during the days of Geoff Hamilton, though I'm not sure how much I learnt even then!

It was a real treat to actually visit Barnsdale, with its 38 individual gardens on an eight-acre site.  Many of the gardens were originally devised and created by Geoff Hamilton himself.  I has a real sense, as we wandered around the site, that Geoff Hamilton's legacy was clear to see.  The organic techniques and principles which he used have been continued at Barnsdale.  DVDs of many of his TV programmes, along with his books, are still available for sale; a DVD was playing in the shop and it seemed rather strange to hear his gentle voice after all these years!  Geoff Hamilton's passion was to encourage and help others to experience the joy in gardening which he knew.  A foundation has been set up in his memory to assist students at his former Agricultural College.  Though he died some 19 years ago, his legacy lives on.

One element of my role as a church leader is to take funeral services.  A question which often crops up when thinking about a person who has died is, "what was their legacy?"  I find it a very challenging question, and I sometimes wonder what my own legacy will be.  In other words, what difference will the fact that I lived on planet earth make, both during my own lifetime and into the future?  Many years ago I started to write a book, based on some words of St Paul to the church in Corinth.  Paul uses the illustration of a builder; each person builds something with his life, and one day what we have built will be tested:

'No one can ever lay any other real foundation than that one we already have - Jesus Christ. But there are various kinds of materials that can be used to build on that foundation. Some use gold and silver and jewels; and some build with sticks and hay or even straw! There is going to come a time of testing at Christ’s Judgement Day to see what kind of material each builder has used. Everyone’s work will be put through the fire so that all can see whether or not it keeps its value, and what was really accomplished.' (1 Corinthians 3:11-13)

I never did get very far with that book, but the challenge remains!

Art is not what you see, but what you make others see

From time to time I am asked to speak at school assemblies, and this morning I was at the local Hall School here in Glenfield.  It is always a pleasure to visit the school; the pupils are attentive and responsive to questions.  Each week the school have a theme, and assemblies are designed to fit in with the theme.  This week's theme was "Art", along with a quote from the famous artist, Degas: "Art is not what you see, but what you make others see."

That quote certainly got me thinking, as I tried to tease out what Degas might have been saying.  The reality is that a piece of art can 'speak' in different ways to different people.  Over the years Sue and I have bought too many paintings and pictures, and we certainly don't have sufficient wall space on which to hang them all.  I came across one which we bought very cheaply at a car boot sale some years ago, and decided to take it to school for the assembly.

I think that we bought it because we found it rather thought-provoking.  The scene is a fracture clinic, and features various members of the public as well as medical staff.  It seems to be one of those images where the longer you look at it the more you get out of it.  I find the expression of the person in the foreground particularly fascinating!

After ascertaining the children's responses to the painting, I then went on to develop the theme by telling the old story of Jumbo the elephant, which dates back to the mid-nineteenth century.  I don't have space to relate how Jumbo fits into the theme, but I ended my talk by pointing out that, just as the artist signed their name on the painting, so God, as it were, signs his name on our lives.  The Bible makes it clear that in every human being there is something of the imprint of our Creator, and that makes each one special.

In one sense, we could say that each person's life is a bit like a painting; all their friends, family and associates see an element of the picture, but no-one (other than God himself) sees the whole.  It's an interesting thought to ponder what others see when they look at the picture of our lives; more importantly, what does God see?

The power of words

One of my neighbours is very much into family history research, and since retirement has been undertaking family history research on behalf of others as a hobby.  Of course, family history has become a significant interest for many people; the popularity of programmes such as "Who Do You Think You Are?" is perhaps evidence of this phenomenon.  In consultation with my sisters and brother I decided to ask my neighbour to undertake some research into our family tree (hopefully there won't be too many skeletons in the family cupboard!)

I will be fascinated to see what the research comes up with.  If I could travel back to visit my ancestors from, say, 200 years ago, and manage to bring them forward to the year 2015, they would witness things totally beyond their comprehension.  I should imagine that modern day society would seem to be a different world from what they were used to.  The changes during those 200 years have been vast.  In many ways, the 21st Century is probably a far better period in which to live.  Yet at the same time there are ways in which we humans behave as badly as ever.  Just look at the news on any day and there will be countless examples of the dreadful ways in which we human beings behave towards one another.

One element of this which has been on my mind recently has been the way in which the level of personal abuse flying around seems to have risen enormously.  This is often seen on social media; for some reason, many people seem to think that it's OK to verbally abuse others, sometimes in the most revolting and vile language.  We so often hear people in the public eye offering destructive and judgemental words to others; the world of politics is one area where this can be very apparent.  Sadly, the Church is not always innocent in this respect.  Yet the Bible makes it abundantly clear that the words which Christians speak should never be destructive.  Here are a few examples:

'Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen'  Ephesians 4:29
'Let your conversation be always full of grace.'  Colossians 4:6
'Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless.'  James 1:26
'Kind words are like honey - sweet to the taste and good for your health.'  Proverbs 16:24

I like this Mnemonic:

Before you speak, THINK…
T - is it True?
H - is it Helpful?
I - is it Inspiring?
N - is it Necessary?
K - is it Kind?

How much better our world would be if we took time to THINK before we spoke.  I confess that I don't always manage it, but I know I should.  Words have power to heal or to hurt; we should use them wisely.

A priceless story

Some years ago I developed an interest in and love for old books.  One of the things which I enjoy whenever I get the opportunity is browsing a second hand or antiquarian bookshop. Often, when I hold a second-hand book in my hand, especially if it is 100 or more years old, I wonder about the story it could tell if a book could talk about its previous owners and its journey through the years.  If I happen to discover a particularly interesting book at a reasonable price I find myself sorely tempted.  My wife Sue would say that I have given in to temptation far too often (and she has a point).

I recently came across an online auction which listed as one of the lots for sale an English language Bible dating back to 1537.  Considering the fact that the first complete Bible in the English language was not published until 1535, the 1537 Bible was of real historical significance.  (Incidentally, the history of the English Bible is a fascinating, if at times very disturbing, tale - if you are interested, see HERE).

The auction estimate for the Bible was £200-£300, which although in one sense was a lot of money, for a Bible of such rarity and significance it was perhaps not unreasonable.  I was able to follow the auction online, and was astonished to see the price continue to rise until the winning bid was announced as £29,500.  Quite an expensive Bible!

The truth is that the Bible is far more precious than monetary value can measure.  Through the pages of the Bible we learn about God's plan and purpose for human life.  The Bible has been described as a love story, in which God continually seeks to drawn to himself in love a wayward people.  Time and again God offers his grace and forgiveness, and ultimately sends his Son, Jesus Christ, to make a way through which our relationship with our Creator can be restored.  

As the Holy Spirit brings to life the pages of the Bible, the Bible can transform lives.  I have heard a number of people give testimony, over the years, of how it was through reading the Bible they came to faith in Jesus, and experienced the new and full life which he offers.  Now that really is priceless!
 

Do we inspire?

The Methodist Church in Markfield has a walking group, made up mainly of church members who enjoy walking together.  Every month or so the group organises a walk somewhere in Leicestershire.  It is generally a fairly easy paced walk; the main aim is to enjoy the countryside and each other's company, rather than racing from A to B.  Some years ago the group decided that they would walk the Leicestershire Round walk in small stages.  It so happened that the very final leg of their journey was scheduled for earlier today, and Sue and I were delighted to be able to join the walkers on this occasion.

The final leg of their 'marathon' journey was the relatively short stretch from Shackerstone to Nailstone.  After a wet early part of the week, today turned out to be almost ideal for walking: clear, dry and warm but not too hot.  There were a few parts of the walk where the recent heavy rain had made the going underfoot very muddy, but on the whole the route was reasonably straightforward.  It was good to spend a few hours with friends in the Leicestershire countryside (ending, of course, with the obligatory - and very enjoyable - pub meal!)

On the latter part of our journey, we were crossing a field when we spotted, in the distance, the spire of the parish church of All Saints, Nailstone.  The spire can probably be seen for several miles around (for a great view see HERE).  Apparently the church dates back to the 14th century.  As we crossed the field towards the church, in my mind I tried to imagine how awe-inspiring the sight of that tower and spire must have been to the local inhabitants when it first rose into the sky. 

Perhaps in some way this great sight acted as a magnet, drawing people to worship.  The idea in the minds of many of the architects of early church building was to encourage churchgoers to recognise the awesomeness of God, and to inspire them to worship.  As I pondered on these thoughts, the question came into my mind as to what it is that inspires people in similar ways today.

Many of the old church buildings still survive today, of course, but people are no longer in awe of the height of church buildings because we now have so many much larger buildings in existence.  Yes, some church buildings are still awe-inspiring in their own way, and some still seem to hold that sense of the presence of God.  But it is important to remember that when the word 'church' is used in the New Testament it refers not to buildings but to people.

So what should inspire people and draw them towards God?  It seems to me that what Jesus desires for all those who follow him is that each one of us might be so filled with his Spirit of love, and so moulded and shaped in Jesus' own nature and character, that we might be an inspiration to others and help to draw them to God.  In the words of Jesus: 'You should be a light for other people. Live so that they will see the good things you do and will praise your Father in heaven.'  And that is a great challenge for all who claim to follow him!

Memorial

One day last week Sue and I were part of a group on a coach trip to the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire.  It is a place which I had wanted to visit for some time, so when the opportunity came to fulfil the desire, I took it!

The Arboretum was officially opened to the public in 2001, though planting had begun some 4 years earlier.  From the website: "Since planting began in 1997, the National Memorial Arboretum has been a special place honouring those who have served, and continue to serve, our nation in many different ways.  It’s not a cemetery. It’s a place of life, represented by the 50,000 trees planted here, where older and younger generations alike can wander and wonder.  Covering 150 acres, the Arboretum has something for everyone. For some it’s a wonderful place to stroll and enjoy the trees; for others it's a peaceful and beautiful place to remember loved ones, particularly those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country."

When we arrived at the Arboretum, the guide informed us that to walk the whole site and see all the memorials would probably take around 3 days!  It was a lovely, sunny day, and we managed to visit a good number of the 300 or so dedicated memorials spread over the large site.  We began, however, by sharing in a short act of remembrance which takes place in the chapel at 11am each day.  The chapel itself was a fascinating place, with its symbolism reflecting various elements of the Christian faith.  I particularly like the wood carving depicting Jesus teaching children (though one of them isn't paying much attention!)

Many of the memorials, of course, are designed to remember those who gave their lives serving their country in the various strands of our Armed Forces.  There are also, however, a number of other memorials.  There were, for example, memorial areas for The Boys' Brigade, The Quakers, The Fire and Rescue Service, and the Post Office and other groups.  I certainly didn't get the feeling that there was any glorification of war (the chapel is named "The Millennium Chapel of Peace and Forgiveness.")  Rather, there was a recognition of the great suffering caused by war, and a giving thanks for the many who have given their lives in different ways in service of their fellow men and women.

There are so many thoughts going through my head as I reflect on our visit (and I certainly want to go back some time), but I share two reflections.  Firstly, as one begins to comprehend the scale of the tragedy of the vast loss of human life, and so many young lives cut off in their prime, it is dreadful when we realise that we human beings seem so incapable of learning the lessons of our own history.  Every death remembered at the Arboretum tore a family apart and caused terrible wounds almost imposible to fully heal.  Yet as we look around the world today we see so many conflicts still raging; so many situations where human beings are committing untold acts of atrocity and violence against other human beings.  And we think we are so advanced!  God have mercy!

Finally, of all the memorials we visited, perhaps the most touching was the "Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Charity Memorial", which is a memorial to children who were either stillborn or died very shortly after birth.  Scattered throughout the garden are very many stones, each bearing the name of a baby who had died.  It was a heartbreaking and extremely moving experience, and it is hard to imagine what the parents of those children had experienced.  Like so many of the memorials, it gave cause to pause, reflect and pray.

I thank God that death is not the end of life.  Through faith in Jesus Christ we can have the assurance of life eternal in the presence of the God who created us and loves us.  'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.'  Revelation 21:4.

Family ties

When my dad retired in 1984, he decided to organise and pay for a holiday for the whole family.  Bearing in mind the fact that my parents had 6 children, and by 1984 most were married with children of their own, it was no mean feat!  We had a memorable and thoroughly enjoyable week’s holiday at Wembury, on the south Devon coast.  As a family group we enjoyed the experience so much that we pledged to do it again every 5 years.

A few weeks ago we shared in the latest family holiday, renting converted properties on a farm on the Staffordshire/Shropshire border.  There were 33 of us in the group, representing different generations of the family, ranging from pensioners to toddlers.   (Sorry the image isn't great, but it's a photo of a photo; if you're counting, the photographer is missing!)

We had a great time together, including various competitions such as tennis and go-carting.  The younger members of the group especially loved the trampoline.  Being on a working farm was exciting, not least the opportunity to see new-born calves and other farm animals.

The only real down side was the fact that for the first time my brother Phil and his family, who live in New Zealand, were not able to join us.  Phil is currently battling cancer, but even if he had been fully fit it is doubtful whether they would have been able to travel over to share in the holiday.  We really missed them!

That leads me on to what was, for me, the most precious moment of the holiday.  Many of us have been praying for Phil for some time, but it was felt that it would be good for us as a whole family to gather together for a time of prayer for Phil and the family.  So one evening, we came together as a large family group to pray.  It was a very moving experience, and we felt that although we were separated geographically by some 11,400 miles, we were one with them in Spirit.

It is such a blessing to be part of a close-knit family, but more so in the knowledge that we are bound together not only by family ties but also by the Christian faith which many of hold very dear.  I thank God for the influence which our parents had on us 6 children, and how their faith has percolated down through the generations.