All we can't leave behind

Reading: Genesis 12 v 1-9

Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’

 So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran. Abram took his wife Sarai and his brother’s son Lot, and all the possessions that they had gathered, and the persons whom they had acquired in Haran; and they set forth to go to the land of Canaan. When they had come to the land of Canaan, Abram passed through the land to the place at Shechem, to the oak of Moreh. At that time the Canaanites were in the land. Then the Lord appeared to Abram, and said, ‘To your offspring I will give this land.’ So he built there an altar to the Lord, who had appeared to him. From there he moved on to the hill country on the east of Bethel, and pitched his tent, with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east; and there he built an altar to the Lord and invoked the name of the Lord. And Abram journeyed on by stages towards the Negeb.

This Old Testament passage is one that many of you have heard often – the call of God to Abram, when Abram was 75 years old, to leave all that he was familiar with and travel to a new land.

God didn’t even tell Abram what or where that new land was. God just asked Abram to start out on a journey.

So Abram started out.

It would seem that he didn’t travel light – he took his immediate family, all the possessions he had gathered and all the people he had acquired.

At each stage of the journey, we read that Abram took stock of where he was, listened to God’s prompting – and moved on.

He built altars to God.

He spent time communing with God.

By all accounts, he left a trail.

But he kept on moving at God’s prompting.

And, it seems, though God didn’t give Abram a map, though God didn’t let him in on what the destination might be, God did keep on checking in.

God kept on affirming Abram’s faith and obedience.

And, often, that’s all we have to go on.

For Abram, it was enough.

Faith and obedience.

Most of you know that at the end of last month I went on a journey.

It was a journey to somewhere I’d never been.

To meet up with folks whom I’d never met.

But I didn’t take my family with me.

I went on my own.

For a few years now I have been part of an online blogging community, a community that has been informative and supporting.

Blogging, for me, started out as a way to journal.

It began- and continues – as a form of spiritual discipline.

A means by which I could write about everyday experiences and see where God was and is at work in daily life.

It’s a discipline that I’ve maintained for the last 4 years.

It’s a bit like a thought for the day – only written on the computer and posted online for folk to read rather than listen to.

Once I post the reflection, others are free to comment on those reflections and offer encouragement and suggestions or share something of their stories.

I realized fairly early on that blogging could be a useful tool for outreach – and so it has proved to be.

There are lots of folk locally as well as globally who read the blog.

Its always a bit disconcerting to meet someone I’ve never actually met before and be asked about something that I’ve written about on the blog.

After a while I discovered that there was a network of bloggers who were also women ministers and who had formed a supportive online community.

I’ve shared with you before how, every week, we look at the prescribed Sunday texts and share ideas for preaching and teaching, ideas and activities for telling the stories to children and young people.

Often, as we’re sharing resources we also share a bit of what’s going on for us and so a supportive community has grown up.

That’s how it came about that, at the end of February I flew out to America to meet up with some of these women.

How strange to meet face to face, folk that you feel you know well because of all you have shared together online.

But I have to tell you, although the planning was fun, when it came to making the actual journey, my nerve almost failed me.

If I could have turned back halfway across the Atlantic, then I probably would have.

Because by then the thought of meeting up with 40 strangers, albeit strangers whom I felt I knew, was fairly daunting.

I am happy to tell you that the reality was much better than even I could have hoped for.

The community that had been born online proved even better face to face.

Of course I had a distinct advantage over Abram.

I was able to find out about the folk whom I would be meeting.

Before we travelled, we set up a google group where folk could introduce themselves and share some details.

I also knew where I was going.

I had a map – which is more than Abram had.

And so the unknown territory I was about to encounter could, in many ways be anticipated.

We also had a purpose in getting together as well as meeting up.

We wanted to explore together the idea of Reframing Hope  - finding vital ways to reach out to a new generation of people both in and outside our churches.

We had with us the author of a book entitled Reframing Hope – Carol Howard Merritt, who shared with us her experience of involvement as a Presbyterian minister in Washington.

Carol shared her stories and affirmed, for many of us, the vitality of mainline churches in reaching out to a new generation of spiritual seekers.

Of course, being women ministers, we did things in style.

Our meet up was on a cruise ship in the Caribbean.

Often our seminars were held in the ship’s conference room competing with the noise of a party going on in the bar next door.

But when we broke into groups to discuss things we would take ourselves up on deck and find various quiet corners to share.

The conference started with a session where we could introduce ourselves face to face.

Each participant was asked to bring along something that told a bit about themselves and where they came from.

A lovely way of learning about each other.

Whatever we took along went home as a gift with someone else.

I took along some haggis and some whisky and spoke about coming from the land of Burns.

Julia, who received those as a gift went home armed with instructions on how to host a Burns Supper in Alaska.

This week, as I reflected on Abram and his family leaving all that they knew, I wondered what items they carried with them that would speak of where they had come from.

And of all the gifts that they left in each place they travelled through.

As well as the gifts that they received from the folk they encountered as they journeyed.

I wonder what, for Abram, became the things that HE COULD NOT LEAVE BEHIND?

I’d like us to think about that question here this morning?

What, for us as a worshipping community are the things that we can not leave behind.

What are the things that we consider priceless?

The things that must move on with us as we endeavour to reach out to a new generation?

WHAT ARE THOSE THINGS THAT WE CANNOT LEAVE BEHIND?

Is it our style of worship?

Visiting folk often comment on how much singing we include in our worship.

Is that one of the things we couldn’t leave behind?

Is it our sense of friendship and fellowship, our welcome of strangers?

People feel included when they come here.

Is that one of the things we couldn’t leave behind?

Is it our bright and airy sanctuary?

A sanctuary that many of you still have fond memories of raising funds to build.

Is that one of the things that we couldn’t leave behind?

One of the things we discussed at the conference was the way we reach others in this age of technology.

An age where many people are more comfortable sitting in front of their computers than gathering in a building.

Where folk may be more comfortable writing about feelings than speaking them.

We can roll our eyes at the seeming absurdity of that.

Or we can choose to engage with it and offer appropriate forums for those for whom a different medium appeals.

I am not alone in feeling strongly that there can be as real a sense of community in the virtual networks as there is in face to face contact and, for many people today, virtual community holds a stronger appeal.

Research has shown that, though today’s generation might be reached in different ways from those of previous generations – though we might not, in the first instance encounter new members when they cross the threshold of the church building, still they seek traditional ways to explore and sustain faith.

And, in particular, what they seek is depth in their belief.

They may well come to faith by unconventional means, but once they have embraced faith, they want a more traditional sustenance – based on ancient practices and customs.

Contrary to many of the myths being perpetuated about traditional church, as we know it, having had its day, there is much to suggest that traditional church is actually regaining its place.

That folk are returning to tried and tested paths.

And the task for us is to become more aware of the new view that God gives us of the promised land.

It’s about journeying slightly differently.

Getting used to different surroundings.

Journeying on in faith and obedience.

Just as Abram did.

Abram discovered on his journey that God still surrounded him.

Abram’s task was not to re-create a faithful God but to rediscover that faithful God in new surroundings.

And so often that involved re-instating old traditions.

What we are called to do, in each generation, in each new time and place, is to sort through what we have, work out what is important, discover those things that WE CANNOT LEAVE BEHIND and use them in a new setting.

Yes, we do live in a different and changing world.

But much of what we have to offer is the very stuff that new generations are seeking.

If we are prepared reframe our hope for a new generation.

If we are prepared to take account of a changing landscape in which God’s presence and God’s guiding is still discernible, we can journey on in faith.

This is NOT about being trendy.

It is NOT about seeking a new relevance.

It is about valuing what we have and, in so doing, be assured that still God uses tried and tested ways alongside new ways.

What holds the two together is faith and obedience.

The sort of faith and obedience that Abram displayed when called and prodded and catapulted by God into a new landscape.

God has called and prodded and catapulted us into unfamiliar surroundings.

Will our response be one of faith and obedience?

Can we follow Abram’s example and become a blessing for the nations?

Can we respond to the different cultures to which we are exposed daily and, retaining the essence of our faith, journey on with renewed hope and vision?

I’m sure as Abram journeyed that he was changed by the folk he encountered.

God exposed Abram to new horizons.

New horizons that still contained the God with whom Abram was familiar, the God by whom Abram was known and loved.

For us, too, as we encounter new horizons, the presence of God becomes not blurry but clearer than ever.

And so the challenge is for us today.

Whether we are 75 like Abram.

Or older or younger.

God calls US to step out in faith and obedience, believing that even in a vastly changed landscape, as people of faith we have something to offer.

And we have much to learn from those we encounter.

But in all of it, we will see and be blessed by God.

Three things remain: Faith, hope and love.

We step out in faith.

We reframe our hope.

We rely on God’s love.

Taking with us on the journey all that we cannot leave behind – Faith, hope and love, ancient commodities for a God-filled future.

Distant God

God you are omnipotent

omnipresent

ineffable

and lots of other big words

that mean that you have power.

So where was your power

when the fault plates shifted

and the earth moved for hundreds of thousands 

of your people?

Where were you when

the ocean

took up the vibes

and swelled and raged

and attacked the land

with such force,

wiping out cities 

and towns and villages

sweeping the board clean 

like a child

who has fallen out with friends

and refuses to "play nice".

Where were you as folk fled for their lives

with no warning

and so many had nowhere to go?

And where are you now

as folk huddle in makeshift centres

or trawl the streets

looking in vain

for loved ones.

Or jump in alarm 

at the slightest shudder, 

living in fear

of the very real threat

of after shock.

All powerful God 

where are you?

As we look on in horror

safe but impotent

open our eyes O God

to see you

crouched and slouched 

with your suffering people

broken and battered

and washed up in the carnage.

Huddling with the lost

and the grieving

and the confused

and the hurting.

Cowering before the forces of nature

that may strike again

with the same savagery

and the same unpredictability.

Simply because

you are NOT a distant God

but a God who dwells with God's people

 suffering the ravages

that affect humanity.

And, when we despair

that you share our impotence

remind us

that we would have you

no other way

but wholly involved

with your creation.

All powerful God

too close for comfort.

Life giving choices

Readings: Deuteronomy 30 v 15-20

1 Corinthians 3 v 1-9

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

 In our Old Testament reading, we find Moses making what could be considered his farewell speech.

Moses has been wandering in the wilderness with these people for 40 years.

He led them out of slavery in Egypt.

He endured many trials with them.

As they journeyed there always seemed to be one more challenge that they had to face – and, Moses, as their leader, was the one who bore the brunt of all their complaints.

The number of times we read of Moses reaching the end of his tether with his people – crying out to God – Why have you placed me in this position with a people so difficult to lead.

Moses, with God’s help, saw them through crisis after crisis but the folk had very short memories and, each time another difficulty emerged, they completely forgot how Moses had seen them through and held him responsible.

They even, on occasions, longed for the life they had known in Egypt rather than the unpredictability of this journey to the Promised Land.

We’re all good at that – preferring what is familiar, even if it is not good – but preferring the familiar rather than embarking on the unknown.

Moses has endured this for 40 years.

The Promised Land is in sight.

Moses knows he will not see the Promised Land, so he makes another attempt at encouraging the Israelites.

 See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.

If you obey the commandments of the LORD your God that I am commanding you today, by loving the LORD your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live and become numerous, and the LORD your God will bless you in the land that you are entering to possess.

But if your heart turns away and you do not hear, but are led astray to bow down to other gods and serve them,

 I declare to you today that you shall perish; you shall not live long in the land that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess.

 I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live,

 loving the LORD your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the LORD swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

That is some speech from a man who, when God called him could barely speak.

In fact, when Moses first went to speak up for his people, he took his brother Aaron with him to do the talking.

Moses has come a long way.

And so have the people.

They have been through a lot together.

And they have learned a lot together.

That is what Moses is reminding them of.

He exhorts them not to forget all that they have learned, not to forget whose they are and whom they serve.

Those same words used as the motto for the Church of Scotland Guild – Whose we are and whom we serve.

Moses implores them to always keep in mind the God who has directed their lives , the God who calls them to live in love – loving God, loving each other and loving their neighbour.

The Kings Speech is a movie about the life of King George VI, released last month and in the running for several BAFTA awards.

It is the true story of how the King who was never expected to accede to the throne overcame major speech difficulties.

With the help and friendship of an unorthodox Speech Therapist, he overcame an impairment that had inhibited and plagued his life.

The Speech Therapist believed in him and persisted in his work with and encouragement of the King until he was able to address the Nation in trying time of war with confidence.

The King was finally able to find his voice and become a leader.

Finding voice has been a theme in Egypt this past few weeks too.

In less then three weeks, voices raised for justice have brought down a 30 year long dictatorship.

Cries of Get Out! have become cries of Freedom.

Their persistent voices were heard and Egypt has been changed forever.

One image that captured the world’s empathy was an image of Muslims at prayer, surrounded by Christians joining hand, forming a human chain to protect their brothers and sisters at prayer.

And yesterday, there were some wonderful images of the celebrations in Tahrir Square in Cairo – of people cleaning up.

Cleaning up because they recognise that the achievement of the freedom they demanded is not the end of their journey but only the beginning.

Now the work begins for everyone to play their part in rebuilding a nation and in ensuring that what they build is true democracy.

And that’s where the challenge lies.

Building on the foundations that have been laid.

Building freedom.

Building justice.

Finding voice is important.

But it is not enough.

Throughout history we have heard enough voices raised – and listened to – that seek power.

But that power has not always been built on justice.

And so we have oppressive regimes all around the world.

Often these regimes started out with hope, attracted supporters by fine orations – but then perpetrated evil.

Voices are important.

But in voices raised there must be sounds of truth and of justice.

Moses exhortation to the Israelites is for them to choose life by building on the commandments of God – to practice love and justice, to walk in the ways of truth.

A theme continued in our New Testament reading:

“The one who plants and the one who waters have a common purpose – we are God’s servants working together.

Every day our lives are just full of choices:

Choices – from moment we open our eyes.

Will I have toast or cereal?

What will I wear?

From seemingly minor choices to the bigger options – choice of study, choice of career, choice of lifestyle.

We are constantly making choices.

So much so that we completely overlook the impact our choice has on others.

We are so used to having options that we forget how lucky we are to HAVE choices.

And the freedom that choice implies.

This week we rejoice that for millions of people in Egypt, their voices have been heard and their right to choose is being reinstated and we pray that they may continue to choose justice and love as a way forward.

And as we value the freedom of choice we enjoy every day, we return to those ancient words of Moses:

, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.

Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the LORD your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him;

R and C have chosen that way today for H.

And, as we said in the baptism liturgy, we look forward to the day when he will make that choice for himself.

This is a day for us all to reaffirm the faith we profess and the choices we have made – to live in love and to work for justice – to follow the path God sets before us.

We have a voice.

We have a choice.

May we speak and choose in love for the glory of God.

Amen.

Let everything that has breath...

Psalm 150
Philippians 4: 4-9

When Christopher (our organist) suggested focussing on church music for the month of February, I just knew that we had to begin with the Psalm we read this morning – Psalm 150 – a Psalm that exhorts us all to Praise the Lord.

Praise the Lord!


Praise God in his sanctuary;
   

praise him in his mighty firmament! 


Praise him for his mighty deeds;
   

praise him according to his surpassing greatness!


Praise him with trumpet sound;
  

 praise him with lute and harp! 


Praise him with tambourine and dance;
   

praise him with strings and pipe! 


Praise him with clanging cymbals;
   

praise him with loud clashing cymbals! 


Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!


Praise the Lord!

Music exerts a powerful influence on us in our every day.

How often have you caught just a snatch of a song on the radio and been instantly transported back in time to an occasion that song was played that sticks in your mind.

Sometimes the memories evoked are so powerful that we can recall smells and atmosphere, taste the food we shared or, in other ways, relive the moment.

Music can move us to tears – tears of sadness, tears of joy, tears of frustration.

Many of the acclaimed revival periods in the history of the church have been accompanied by distinctive music – from the music of Wesley, to the songs of Moody and Sankey, all capturing the mood of a moment, and, many would claim, eternal truths.

My early church days were accompanied by strains of being washed in the blood, waiting for the roll to be called up yonder.

Strange language for our young folk in church circles today.

Even much of what we would consider to be modern praise music has already been discarded by our youth whose tastes and interests move on so quickly, it’s hard to keep up.

This Psalm reminds us, though, that it’s not just about the words, but about the methods of our praise.

We can praise God in so many ways – with hearts and hands and voices and instruments.

My colleague, Alec Shuttleworth, over in Tarbolton, exerts that “there is nothing, simply nothing in life that is not significantly improved by the addition of a banjo.”

With his talent, he is probably right.

We all have our favourite instrument of choice or style of praise music.

When we moved here, from Inverkip, Zara (then 10) insisted on calling the church Castlehill Praise Church.

It took me a while to realise that it was her mis-reading of Castlehill Parish church – we didn’t use the Parish in Inverkip church’s title.

But perhaps that’s a more fitting title – something to which we aspire – Castlehill Praise Church.

The book of Psalms has been edited into 5 sections – and this last section, of which we read the final Psalm, is all about praising God.

Hallelujah is repeated again and again – literally - Praise the Lord.

You may remember at the beginning of Lent last year, we “put away the Alleluias” – symbolically in a big tube for the young folk – but also literally in our praise for the rest of Lent.

We only unleashed them again on Easter Sunday.

And while, initially, I’d stumbled on that idea as a way to teach the youth church something of the austerity of Lent, like all good illustrations, it became much more than that.

The absence of Alleluias for those 6 weeks, made their reappearance all the more wondrous when Easter arrived.

And the careful screening of hymns to make sure we didn’t include any alleluias during Lent, made me so much more aware of how many of our hymns praise the Lord with alleluias.

And, it is fitting that a Psalm so full of Hallelujahs should end the Psalter, a hymnody of praises.

It might seem strange to describe the Psalms as a hymnody of praise when so many of the Psalms are full of sorrow and lament.

Indeed, the first part of the Psalter (Psalm 1-41) is composed mostly of laments:  "How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?" (Psalm 13:1) "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Psalm 22:1).

But lament is not the whole story.

Praise often wells up in the middle of the laments and, gradually, through the course of the whole book of Psalms, the laments give way to praise until finally, at the end, "hallelujah" is the final word.

Eugene Peterson wrote:      

This is not a 'word of praise' slapped onto whatever mess we are in at the moment. This crafted conclusion of the Psalms tells us that our prayers
 are going to end in praise, but that it is also going to take awhile.

It seems to be the way of Christian life that answered prayer is not something that can be rushed,

It requires patience.

IT requires persistence.

There is a lot of lamenting before we reach the Hallelujahs.

But in the rhythm of laughter and tears.

In the doubting and the believing.

In the resistance and the dance.

There is movement, inevitably, towards praise.

And even when we reach that point when we are moved to praise, our lament is not forgotten, our sorrow is not cast easily aside.

Our Hallelujahs are an expression of having reached the light only through the darkness.

Praising God, in our lives as individuals and in our life as a community in worship is a culmination of our struggles together, another stage in our journey, marked by all that has gone before and all that has yet to come.

And our praise is all the more real for having found a way to burst through lament and sorrow and darkness and questioning.

Our Alleluias are not a denial of all the sorrows we face.

They are not an escape from the realities of life.

Our Alleluias are a response to the God who, in darkness and in light, in sorrow and in joy, leads us on, a response to the God who brings life even out of death.

And that brings us to our New Testament reading this morning.

How are we able to keep on praising God through all that life brings?

St Paul tells us:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

 Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

I know that so many of you can testify to that peace that passes all understanding – seeing you through the darkest of times.

So many of you live out your every day in the knowledge that The Lord is near.

And focusing on whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable and the things worthy of praise – focusing on those things enables us to go through all that life brings praising God.

So whether for you, it’s the Redemption hymnal, or the old Scottish Psalter or CH4 or Mission Praise – whatever loosens your praise cords, don’t be inhibited by the times you’ve been told to keep quiet, don’t be subdued by the burdens you carry right now – Let everything that has breath Praise the Lord.

Amen.

Come and see

Readings: John 1: 29-42

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

If we’d been following the Lectionary, the prescribed readings for each Sunday, last week we’d have read about Jesus being baptised by John the Baptist.
With the Presbytery visit, we didn’t do that, but, this morning, we have reminded ourselves of what baptism is about:
Celebrating, in community, the grace of God.
In my mind, there is no such thing as private baptism.
Baptism is always done in the face of the community.
It is a shared sacrament, a shared celebration.
A shared acknowledgement of the grace of God.
Grace that is shared – in community.
Community became a very important theme this week as I shared with staff and pupils – and with parents and neighbours and colleagues shocked by the tragic death of our school lollipop lady.
We wanted to affirm that though we couldn’t change anything, that though the worst has happened, we could get through it together as a community.
One of the things we often do in school assemblies is affirm achievements and share celebrations together.
This week, we shared tragedy together and realised that that too is part of our life together as a community.
Community is important for all of us.
Our gospel reading this morning confirmed how important community was to Jesus.
But before we look at Jesus in today’s gospel reading, let’s back track just a little.

It’s amazing how quickly we move on, from the seemingly endless season of Advent, through Christmas, into Epiphany, when the wise men make their appearance, and then, to the baby all grown up and being baptised by John.
This year I’ve really felt that sense of urgency – the fast moving gospel.
We don’t get much time to relax around the crib after the marathon that is the Christmas season!

But, a careful reading of our gospel today reveals that Jesus didn’t hang about either.
In John’s version of the story, no sooner is Jesus baptised than he is straight out inviting people to join him on his adventures.
John is still pointing out Jesus as the Lamb of God.
Two of John’s disciples are curious about Jesus, so Jesus asks them: “what are you looking for?”
When they ask Jesus where he lives, Jesus invites them to “Come and see”
Jesus’ invitation was very simple.

He didn’t invite those men to articulate their faith or their quest for faith.

He simply invited them to “come and see”.

A simple invitation it might have been.

But it was also an effective one.

The disciples followed him,

They DID go and see – and they stayed with Jesus from then on.

One of them even went to find his brother so that he, too, could see what Jesus was about.



This gospel story has me thinking about what kind of community we are.

And of how we invite others to be part of that community.

Are we a community that is really open to welcoming others?

I am sure that the answer to that is YES.

We are, on the whole, friendly and welcoming.

People often comment on the welcome they receive here.



But how do we encourage folk across the threshold to experience that warmth and fellowship?



This week I also experienced a very personal sadness.

I attended the funeral of a very special friend.

Someone who introduced me to faith.

And who also consistently encouraged me in that faith.

Someone who did not present me with a cleverly worked out route to follow.

But who simply invited me to “come and see”

And the more I saw, the more I was welcomed, the more I was encouraged to hang around, the more I wanted to be part of that welcoming, accepting community.

It was a community in which the gospel was not only preached but also lived out.



Often we feel that to invite others in, we must know our way around, have our own route marked out, know where we’re going.

We’re frightened to invite folk to journey with us in case it exposes our own lack of knowledge,


But, Jesus, inviting the disciples to come and see, invited them on a journey of discovery.

He didn’t prescribe what their journey should be.

He didn’t set down criteria that they must fulfil.

He invited them to satisfy their curiosity, first of all, to find out where he lived, to come and see.

Knowing that in journeying alongside him, they would discover much more than they could have ever envisaged.

It was a seemingly casual invitation, with no strings attached.

But an invitation that would prove to be life changing.

And it is that invitation that is extended to you and I today.


Folk often say to me that they do not believe, that they do not have faith.

But I think that, to even say that, indicates a search, a curiosity.

Though that quest might never be owned by one who claims to have no faith, there is something there, underlying the denial.

And perhaps if we had a lighter touch.

Perhaps if we could be as casual in our invitation – casual but intentional, folk would join us on the journey.

The disciples claimed that they wanted to see where Jesus lived.

They weren’t looking for commitment.

But, because Jesus invited them to tag along, invited them to not only see where he lived but travel with him for a while, get to know him, they stuck around and commitment followed.

Being invited into community is what many of our neighbours long for.

They don’t want to hear about great campaigns.

Or about membership dues.

They want to be allowed to tag along.

And that acceptance into community, does the work of encouraging them to stay.

They want to be accepted in good times and in bad.

They want to be part of a community that rejoices with them and that grieves with them.



Let’s ask ourselves this morning – when is the last time we invited folk to journey with us.

And I’m not talking about going out to street corners and dragging folk in.

But when was the last time we invited anyone to “come and see”

I have to confess that I often hate folk to find out what I do for a living before they have had a chance to get to know me.

It was much easier, as a hospital chaplain to disguise my calling.

I could simply say that I worked at the hospital.

But I don’t think our gospel is urging us today to go out of our way to meet folk to invite.

It’s not about strangers today.

The focus is on our community.

It’s about the folk we know.

The folk we see at the paper shop in the morning.

The folk we sit with on the bus into town.

The folk in our aquarobics or zumba class or wherever else we encounter our neighbours.

Its about inviting them to come and see.

And, hopefully, once they have seen, they will want to stay.

Why?

Because Jesus, the baby born in Bethlehem meets us here.

Because Jesus who was baptised by John meets us here.

Because Jesus who went to the cross meets us here.

Because Jesus who asked others to care for his mother meets us here.

Jesus, who lives in community with us, who rejoices with us and suffers with us, meets us on the journey.

What about us inviting our neighbour to “come and see”?

Inexplicable joy

Readings: Isaiah 35 v 1-10

                 Matthew 11 v 2-11

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. 

Once again, we have beautiful, hopeful images from Isaiah in our lectionary reading this morning.
Images of transformation.
All through this season of Advent, Isaiah has brought us hope.
His words, when they were spoken, to a people in exile, would have sounded every bit as strange as they do now.
His hearers then, as now, were weighed down, overwhelmed with bleakness, and needed encouragement.
Isaiah’s message was balm for hurting spirits.

Usually, in advent, I am drawn to the gospel readings, but this year, it is the prophecies from Isaiah that have sucked me in.
Not just with the beautiful images they have portrayed but also with their ability to speak through the centuries right to the heart of a world that needs to cultivate hope today.

Let’s hear again those hopeful words for today:

The desert shall rejoice and bloom, like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly…
and rejoice with joy and singing…
Strengthen the weak hands
make firm the feeble knees
Be strong, do not fear…
Here is your God
The eyes of the blind shall be opened
and the ears of the deaf unstopped
the lame shall leap like a deer
and the tongue of the speechless shout for joy
Waters shall break forth in the wilderness
and streams in the desert.
That image of the crocus blossoming abundantly stuck me this week – as I could just picture it.
Last spring, quite a number of you told me, to take a walk down to the park at Corsehill.
And what a sight there was there of crocuses in blossom.
I walked down Monument Road, accompanied by the noise of traffic – but, as soon as I stepped through the gates of the park, it was as though a hush fell over the world.
The sight and the atmosphere, for me, at that moment, was truly electric.
There was simply quiet peace and amazing beauty.
The dead leaves and bare patches of soil under the trees had been transformed into a carpet of crocuses.
That sight affected me both physically and emotionally.
That sight spoke to me of hope, of peace AND of joy.
It didn’t seem enough to simply breathe a prayer of thanks – I wanted to sing my heartfelt praise to a God who could cause such beauty.
And it’s those emotions that rushed back for me this week as I’ve sat with this Isaiah passage.
Hope, peace and joy – and an urge to sing!

The prophecy today speaks not only of hope, not only of peace, but also of joy - all three seemingly elusive qualities in our world today.

It’s a strange thing – we get the notion of hope fairly easily – we’d probably counter that we all need hope in order to survive.
In our darkest moments, in the dark corners of our world, hope is that light that flickers and sustains life.

And peace – we all long for peace – for a world free of conflict – and the freedom that can only be experienced through peace.

But joy seems to go a step further.
Joy, it seems, is a luxury, not an essential element for our well being.

So many people just now are going through the motions. putting a brave face on things, doing what is expected of them, but not really experiencing joy in the process.
- a bit like the Charlie Brown cartoon:
- “I think there must be something wrong with me, says Charlie Brown to Linus.
- Christmas is coming, but I’m not happy. I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to feel. I just don’t understand Christmas, I guess.”
- “ I like getting presents, and sending Christmas cards, and decorating trees, and all that, but I’m still not happy.
But the ancient prophecy speaks of joy and singing.
The crocus will not just blossom abundantly but the desert will rejoice with joy and singing.
The tongue of the speechless will not just be loosened but will sing for joy.

And those last words that we read – I’m going to revert to the words of a chorus we used to sing in Youth Group:
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return
And come with singing unto Zion
And everlasting joy shall be upon their head
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return
And come with singing unto Zion
And everlasting joy shall be upon their head
They shall obtain gladness and joy
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away
Therefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return
And come with singing unto Zion
And everlasting joy shall be upon their head

Everlasting joy.
That is what the prophet promises.
Strange as it may seem
As luxurious as it sounds.
That is the promise – of everlasting joy.

But what about now?
We long for a world where the blind can see, where the deaf can hear, where the lame can leap and the dumb speak.
And of course, when we see those things come to pass, we will rejoice.
How can we do otherwise?

But what about now – in our world as flawed as it is?
What about now, with the burdens and anxieties that weigh us down?
What about now, when we feel the chill of loss or fear the unknown?

How can we experience hope – or peace – far less joy – in daily life?

Maybe, just maybe, that picture of blossoming in the desert might give us a clue as to how joy gets in.
The prophet tells us that the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad and the desert shall rejoice and blossom.
Even in their desolate state, there will come forth something good.

The joy of which the prophet speaks – that joy that comes from God – is not dependant on all the conditions being just right.
But it comes nonetheless.

God does not wait until we have stilled our fears and overcome our anxious thoughts.
God does not wait until we have emerged somehow from our sorrow or loss.
God does not wait until our hearts and lives are ready and fertile.
God bursts in anyway – with an inexplicable joy.

That’s why the image of the crocus blossoming in the desert is such a perfect picture.
After the snowdrop, Crocuses are among the first bursts of hope and colour to appear – sometimes even through the winter snow.
The crocus doesn’t wait until the frosts have gone and the ground is more welcoming.
The crocus simply appears and transforms the landscape.
It’s that kind of transformation that God cultivates in us.
A joy that’s not dependant on external conditions.
A joy that bubbles up despite our heaviness and oppression.
A joy that comes, unbidden, and changes things for us.
Not wiping out tragedy.
Not restoring loss.
Not turning the clock back to better times or rushing us forward to healing.
But a joy that just is – in the midst of whatever challenges
or sorrows afflict us.
Joy.

May you be afflicted this week, whatever your lot in life right now, with that inexplicable joy that God promises.
And may the prophet’s words – of hope, of peace and of joy, bringing healing to your Spirit.
For the glory of God.
Amen.

The magic kingdom

Readings: Isaiah 11 v 1-10

                 Matthew 3 v 1-12


It was tempting, this week, to simply project those images portrayed in Isaiah and let the text – and the images – fire our imaginations and speak for themselves.

For the vision of community portrayed in Isaiah is so compelling and so attractive:

⁶The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. ⁷The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. ⁸The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. ⁹They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain;

Advent is a time for getting ready, for looking forward to Christmas. But it is also a time for imagining. Imagining what that kingdom that God sent his son to usher in would be like. 
In our reading from Isaiah, we have a picture of that kingdom. 
And what a picture.
Of peace and harmony never seen before.
A peace and a harmony that even goes against nature.
What is it we are preparing for this advent?
We prepare for Heaven touching earth.
The picture Isaiah paints is one of Heaven truly touching earth.
Wolf and lion and lamb and bear and small child – all playing peaceably together.
It is tempting to just stop there, with that image in our heads, with an indulgent smile on our face, tempting just to drink in that vision and long for the day.
But then we read Matthew’s gospel and are called to a very rude awakening.
Because into this picture of peace and calmness romps John the Baptist, trailing his own peculiar form of madness and austerity. 
Demolishing the tranquillity.
Calling us back to reality.
John is heralding, not the baby Jesus about whom we can all get quite sentimental but the man about to begin his ministry.
John is preaching in the wilderness, not about a baby who is to be born, but about a full grown Messiah who is about to embark on a ministry that will change people’s lives.
A ministry that will liberate a people.
And just as John attempted to alert people in the wilderness to the enormity of what Jesus had come to do, so he crashes with just as little subtlety into our Advent preparations and calls on us to wake up.
John the Baptist calls us out of our cosy reverie and confronts us with the stark reality that the baby we prepare to welcome grew to be a man who calls us to a very different way of living.
Calls us not just to imagine that wonderfully perfect kingdom but to do our best to create it alongside God. 
John calls us to hold a mirror to our intentions, to examine our motives in welcoming the Christ child.
To shake off the cosiness, just for a moment and ask ourselves – what is it we think we are welcoming.
Is it a little child who will plaster over the cracks and make everything better?
Or is it the challenger who calls on us to act, who makes demands of us not just to dream but to change?
John the Baptist’s words are very harsh.
He pulls no punches, calling the religious of his day “a brood of vipers”.
He is uncompromising.
Condemning.
But his last words are not words of condemnation.
He speaks boldly and starkly.
But alongside his condemnation, he offers words of hope.
The hope that, if we are ready to look at ourselves, if we are prepared to wake up and shake off our complacency or our romantic notions about Jesus’ birth.
If we are prepared to own how much of a part we play in the injustice that plagues our world, that traps people in poverty, that denies all equal chances.
If we can open our eyes to all that in honesty, then there is hope for us.
And there is hope for our world.
Because the child born in the stable, who grew to launch a challenging ministry offers us a way to join in restoring what he came to establish.
Jesus comes to change our lives.
And to give us hope that we can make a difference.
That that kingdom that Isaiah pictured will one day be a reality.
Heaven comes to earth – that’s what we prepare for in Advent. 
Are we prepared to change to make that a reality?
As we share in the sacrament of communion today, may the grace of God, conveyed through the simplicity of bread and wine bring us hope.
Hope that we can change.
And hope that God’s kingdom can be born in our midst.