Are You “Inter” Faith?

It was Inter Faith Week last week. A bunch of us had a really lovely welcome from

the Sikh community at the Thurrock Gurdwara on Maidstone Road. We were able to

join in evening prayers and share some of the traditional hospitality that Sikhs are so

well known for. I don’t think I’ve ever had samosas, bananas AND chocolates offered

in the same meal before!

Maybe all this Inter Faith stuff has passed you by and maybe you are part of an

increasing group that avoids faith because, as I’ve heard it said, “religion is the cause

of so many of the world’s problems”. They cite radicalization of young people and the

dreadful horrors of religious wars in the Middle East and parts of Africa.

I can understand the reticence to adopt a religious lifestyle if it seems to encourage

hatred, narrow-mindedness and prejudice. Nobody wants that. But let’s look at it

another way.

God never intended us to be “religious”. Really! Religion is to do with regulation and

sectarianism. It promotes those who are “in” and those who are “out”. And it has

nothing to do with Faith!

Faith is about Someone we can believe in. Someone who loves us. Someone who

longs to embrace us and welcome us into a family. It is from that kind of Relationship

that springs the values that should guide our lives and our society. My Friend reminds

us that: “God is Love and whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.”

Faith matters. It matters in Thurrock and it matters in our world. And a world that is

coming apart needs a people who are coming together. Will you join us?

HOW READY ARE YOU? (a reflection on the Remembrance Sunday readings)

In 1 Thessalonians 4: 13 we read: we do not want you to be ignorant! What does this mean? To refer to somebody as “ignorant” is usually a term of abuse, something we apply to people we consider as slackers, time wasters, no hopers. But to be ignorant actually means to be without knowledge.

You might be interested to know that the word used for "foolish" in the Gospel reading from Matthew 25 is the Greek word “moros”. Can you guess what word we obtain from that nowadays? A moron is a term usually applied to an adult who behaves like a 10- year-old! We don’t really want to be ignorant morons, do we? How foolish is it to be

ignorant? Or without knowledge? Is ignorance really bliss? Or does it mean we've stopped learning? That we've given up on the learning of our our discipleship?

The passage goes on to say: we do not want you to grieve like those without hope. Is there a difference between grieving with hope and without hope? What is that difference? It is found in the very next two words of the following sentence.We believe…! And what difference does that belief make to our lives? To our grieving: in

bereavement and in remembering? What is it that keeps us hoping as we stand around the War Memorial or beside the grave of a loved one? Is it not what we believe and know about Jesus - that he died and rose again (v. 14)?

How then should we live? As people who are ready! Some of us will have received a small brown booklet in the last few months. This is a replica of John’s gospel given out to service men and women during the First World War. On the front we find the words

"active service". And "please carry this in your pocket and read it every day". Does that still happen? Do we carry a bible or even a gospel? And read it? Every day? And is it perhaps because we no longer see ourselves as being on “active service” that we perhaps do not?

The last paragraph of the opening page of the booklet is very telling. We read: "in

God’s Word many soldiers, sailors and airmen found peace when they were afraid, strength when they were under pressure and comfort even in the face of death." 

How prepared are we? How hopeful? How knowledgeable of His Word?

1 Peter 3:15 tells us that we should always be ready to give a reason for the hope that is in us. On a Sunday like this, at a time like this, we need to consider when we might be asked to answer, to bear witness, to give the reason for that hope. 

If we do not have sufficient oil then our lamps (like the foolish virgins) will begin to grow dim and go out.

And who then will light the way and brighten the darkness in this lost and hurting world?

TREAT ... OR TRICK?

Well … the early Christmas trees and festive gift suggestions are now vying for

space with fireworks. Some for Diwali and some for Guy Fawkes. What a

cosmopolitan society we inhabit! And pretty much all the shops and restaurants in Thurrock show evidence of ghoulish-looking pumpkins, bug-eyed monsters and cackling witches in various shades of black and green.

For just a little while Samhain, an ancient Celtic deity and so-called “lord of the

dead” holds sway across the country. Nightmare on Elm Street and all 12 Friday

13ths are showing on TV and lots of little vampires and werewolves are roaming

the streets begging for treats at the door.

It’s that weird time of year again and a peculiar orange and black U.S. festival

takes hold of the public consciousness. Those of us who like “a little bit of a scare”, dress the kids up to go knocking on strangers’ doors for “trick or treat”. Why?

Have we ever stopped to ask ourselves why the day before All Saints Day should

cause us to dabble in unnecessary darkness and fear? When everything else we do encourages us to turn to light and goodness, why would we want to stir up the ancient enemies of death and despair?

Now I love celebrations as much as the next vicar and it’s always good to gather

with friends for a party but I like my treats to centre around love and light and joy.

I know how tricky and deceiving the dark can be but it will never put out the light.

As the Good Book says: “the light shines in the darkness but the darkness has not

understood it.”

Have a bright and happy Halloween. No trick. Your treat!

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

No trick. Your treat!

 

And we complain about the weather … !

I peered out of the grimy glass through the metal grille of my second-storey 

bedroom window onto the corrugated-iron huts of the surrounding shanty-town. 

Wild dogs, pigs and chickens mingled with children and farmers trudging through the mud and negotiating the boulders and craters of the road outside. 

Ludicrously, a satellite dish poked up through the rust of next-door’s hut and the distant call to Muslim prayers mingled with the strident call of a nearby pneumatic drill. Even without the mosquitoes and assorted bugs, it’s not easy to get a good night’s sleep in Kisumu, Kenya’s third city. 

 

I spent Sunday morning preaching in a slum-dwellers church (2 two-hour services virtually back-to-back) that started with a dozen or so congregation and reached around 60 by the time I got up to speak. 

Regular people like you and me – just different coloured skin and a greater aptitude for languages; most Kenyans speak at least three.  

 

My friends ask me if I had “a good holiday”? I tell them it wasn’t a holiday and I cannot describe it as “good”. “Humbling” maybe. Certainly different. No rich fattening desserts. No desserts at all! Rice and lentils most days. Plumbing and 

electrics leaving a lot to be desired. I never used an undamaged toilet anywhere in Kenya and often “showered” from a dribbling tap. 

Many of the church leaders I met made their living in rudimentary farming or from selling clothes and crafts by the roadside. Those who were paid got £30-40 a week. 

 

I hope, by the grace of God, that I made a small difference. I certainly feel I

learned more than I taught. And I’ll certainly think twice before I criticise the state of Thurrock’s roads. Or its garbage collection. Or the condition of its parks. 

 

And so I’m back to my daily creature comforts. Hopefully a wiser and more grateful man. 

If ALPHA met Mills and Boon?

We’ve just started a new ALPHA course at St. Margaret’s. Ever tried it? You might meet a different Jesus … Maybe …

“She catches a glimpse of the Bistro interior in the light that shines out from the windows of the street corner premises. Warm, golden, almost buttery. A bell dings as she opens the door onto a cliché of an Italian restaurant – red and white tablecloths, Italian flags, grainy photographs of Rome and Naples, shelves of spaghetti jars; violin music in the background. A caricature of an Italian waiter greets her – all teeth and slick hair, white shirt and long blue apron.

Oh signorina– so lovely to welcome you to Luigi’s Trattoria. Please, come this

way, your host is already waiting. Ah,we have such an evening for you! A little

bruschetta to start with perhaps?We have some very nice Chianti and already the Bolognese sauce, she is … bubbling in the kitchen. Please, please, take a seat, we are so pleased you should come. Ah, such a Bella Note. You are so welcome …

The chatter of the waiter fades as she sits at the small table in the window and is greeted by her host and captured by the warmth and charm of his welcome. She has never met a man quite like this before. He has strength without aggression, personality without pretension. He listens with his eyes; she feels special, important. Who is he, this lovely passionate man who so captivates her?

Throughout the evening, over the most beautiful meal she has ever enjoyed, she

tells him of her life. And he listens. And says little. A word here. A phrase there.

And eyes that never leave her face yet helping her feel safe, relaxed. Who is he?

All too soon, the coffee is served and they linger over amaretti biscuits. Gently, he reaches out and takes her hand and she sees in his own the mark of the nail.

And finally, she knows Him.”

Jesus ... He’s not who you think …

THE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE

Peter Frates is a former Boston College baseball star who was stuck down by the 

debilitating condition amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (AL ), also referred to as Motor 

Neurone Disorder. What makes Pete famous and what connects him with our 

borough and so many other parts of the world is The Ice Bucket Challenge: pouring a bucket of ice-cold water over your head to draw attention to the condition and to 

raise money for AL  and/or Macmillan Cancer upport.  

 

On Friday, August 29th I reluctantly followed the example of many other “local heroes” when I was soaked by Gof the Clown in t Margaret’s churchyard! He did this in the middle of my fine speech about why the IBC was a waste of water and a subtle form of bullying. So, in the light of that, why did I take the challenge? 

 

Firstly, because Motor Neurone Disorder and similar long-term conditions are serious issues and the work that Macmillan does caring for cancer sufferers is matchless. They were set up to be a "source of support" and a "force for change". I realise that clean water is scarce in many parts of the world and for some their "challenge" is just to carry the precious commodity to the point of need. 

So I hope you won’t just tip the 

water, take the video and display your madness on Facebook. Please be generous in giving to MND and Macmillan as well and remember those like Pete Frates.  

Secondly, I really did do it for Fun! My friends who are disabled or suffering from 

cancer are among the bravest and brightest people I know and they would be the last to avoid a soaking for the sake of being politically correct. 

 

As the late Robin Williams said: “You're only given a spark of madness. You musn't lose it.” 

What’s so great about war?

What an amazing week it has been for remembering the Great War! Britain does this kind of thing really well doesn’t it? From the cascade of ceramic poppies at the Tower to the creative BBC dramas and documentaries, the visits of the royals and the dignified lighting of candles across the nation.

 

And what a truly ghastly week it has been for Gaza and Iraq, Syria and the Ukraine. Men, women and children indiscriminately butchered, terrorised and displaced on the sole pretext of others not sharing their views and values. One hundred years on from a World War that was anything but ‘great’, have we learned a single lesson about peace?

 

Last week’s Gazette told well the moving stories of yesteryear when local boys “joined up” to fight for their country and the announcement of conflict with the Kaiser brought loud hurrahs. Everyone thought it would be over in months if not weeks but four long years told another miserable tale.

 

This Sunday (17th) we shall be rededicating the war memorial on The Green in Stanford le Hope some 94 years after my predecessor, Revd. James Russell, first dedicated it before a crowd of some 2000 Thurrock residents. This service will be held, like that one, at 3.30 pm and all are invited to come and pay their respects.

 

There’s nothing at all that is great about war – not remotely. It is sickeningly, dreadfully barbaric. It depersonalises humanity and blasphemes God. But there is something great about warriors. Not the cowardly monsters that maim and kill children or send masses to a lonely death. No – the real heroes are the ones who strive for wholesome gain beyond all reckoning; who give and give again so that others may live and be free. Some have their names engraved on stones like that on The Green; others still live today working and praying for lasting reconciliation.

 

These are the great warriors – the warriors of peace. And we should honour them.

THURROCK’S DEFINITELY GOT IT!

Britain’s got Talent – like it or loath it, you can’t ignore it! But did you notice this year how many of the acts came from Essex and, more particularly, from Thurrock? Say what you like about our borough, it has many highly talented and powerfully motivated people. We can learn a lot from Russell, Stacy and Rylan and not just fashion tips!

Thurrock is a unique and exciting place with many challenges for its residents with a massive port development in the west and a rapidly changing socio-economic culture in the east. From Purfleet to Fobbing and Orsett to Tilbury, the name of the game is Diversity. There you are … yet more talent show stars!

Yet it is our very diversity that brings our most fundamental challenge – we need to embrace not only changing culture but the difference that is at the very heart of our local scene. Our different races, creeds and values are what make our local borough so exciting.

Walking through Grays town centre the other day, I couldn’t fail to see the different shades of skin and hues and style of garment and hear the different languages being spoken. Some people would stir up suspicion and promote fear of difference. Some would even cause us to retreat into our ghettoes of ignorance and intolerance but we dare not let that happen.

In this small but beautiful South Essex region, we have a real opportunity to make a lasting difference and set a stirring example. You don’t have to be a singer or dancer or comedian or even a vicar … you just need to care.

I believe Thurrock’s got talent; bags of it. We have the stars – you’re one of them – let’s make sure they shine!

 

 

What Couldn't be Done

Many years ago an old friend of mine wrote a song about me. The words went something like John A K Guest, we love John A K Guest … first you’ll say “no”, then he’ll have a go, then you’ll say “yes”. I may have lost some hair, gained a few wrinkles and several pounds but in at least one respect I haven’t changed: I still don’t like to give up!

 

Strangely enough, a namesake of mine wrote a poem about not giving up and having a go at something others said couldn’t be done. Eddie Guest was born in Birmingham on 20th August 1881 and later moved to Detroit, Michigan where he made his name as “The People’s Poet” writing over 11,000 poems in newspapers and books and in hosting a weekly radio show. He was later made Michigan’s poet laureate and he wrote the following verse.

 

It Couldn’t Be Done by Edgar Albert Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done but he with a chuckle replied

That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin on his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing that couldn’t be done, and he did it!

 

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that; at least no one ever has done it;”

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat and the first thing we knew he’d begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing that couldn’t be done, and he did it.

 

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, there are thousands to prophesy failure,

There are thousands to point out to you one by one, the dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing that “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

 

In this life there is very little that really couldn’t be done and, in any case, you won’t know till you try. So let’s run this race with perseverance!

STRONGER TOGETHER

Thurrock Faith Matters asked me to be their new chair this month – what a privilege! As I take up the daunting task for the year ahead, I reflect on the example and ministry of our previous chair, Russell Godward. Russell and his family have faced huge challenges in the recent loss of his son and they have all been such an example to us of hope and life rising from the ashes of despair.

 

As a faith community leader, Russell has embodied so many of the values that make our faith communities great and to which Thurrock Faith Matters aspires in this amazing and vibrant borough. His leadership over the past year has enabled us to take some significant steps forward and fostered some exciting new partnerships. Thank you Russ!

 

I am really beginning to believe that the old prejudices against faith and creedal values in our society are being left behind as politicians and community advocates realise what vision and clarity my colleagues bring to the table. The days of suspicion are fading and it can be seen in Safeguarding and family support, FoodBank and projects for the elderly, programmes for the lonely and homeless, drug-dependent and alcohol-abused that faith really does matter and that faith groups really can make a difference!

 

My vision for Thurrock Faith Matters is to be a team that is – in a tagline – building bridges throughout Thurrock. Our special contribution is to show that Hindus, Jews, Sikhs, Muslims and Christians can work together, despite differences in belief. And that means that we can not only work for (and with) people of all faiths and none but also provide the possibility of an example to bring together young and old, black and white, male and female across our borough.

 

Difference and diversity are great – to be celebrated – but they don’t need to divide. We need more partnerships like the ones Russell is promoting. And not just between people with identical outlooks. We need the courage to take hands with those who are different from us and explore what we can do together for the benefit of all.

 

It was love that prompted God to create us. It is love that puts us in families. It must be love that drives us forward into a better future.

 

God bless you!

 

 

TAKE A DEEP BREATH

It’s my birthday this week – I hope you remembered! You forgot? Well, there’s still time to send me a belated e.card. I’m not the only one celebrating a birthday this week either. Christians have been celebrating Pentecost – the birthday of the Church – the day when 120 new believers began a movement that today has grown to 2.3 billion: the largest family group on earth.

 

How did it all happen? Well, if you’re interested in church history, you can look it up in the fifth book of the New Testament, appropriately named The Acts of the Apostles or, to put it another way, “The Acts of the Church”. If you can’t lay your hand on your bible right this minute … keep reading here. I like to think it happened a bit like this …

 

Jesus gets back to heaven after a successful life on earth, during which time he has told people about the Kingdom of God, been crucified, come back to life and left his followers with an important mission. He is met at the pearly gates by the angel Gabriel who greets him warmly and asks how he got on. Jesus explains that his ministry was a great success and that he has left his ongoing work in the hands of a few of his “disciples”.

 

Gabriel is horrified as he realises how inept and useless humans are and protests that Jesus can surely not be serious. God’s work is far too important to be left to a handful of fishermen! Jesus is insistent that those he has called will carry his mission across the face of the earth into succeeding generations. “Yeah, right!” scoffs the angel; “well, don’t hold your breath!” “I don’t intend to,” replies Jesus and with that he takes a deep breath and breathes out …

 

And on our planet, the breath of God’s Spirit touches human lives in Jerusalem, in Judea and Samaria and on to the ends of the earth. As I say in my Gazette Thought this week, it doesn’t matter how you look outside; it’s what’s inside that really counts!

 

You may be full of high ideals and have plans to make a difference in the world. That’s great! But on your own you are going to meet all kinds of difficulties and face many overwhelming challenges. “Inspiration” – literally, breathing in will help you, especially if you know the indwelling breath of God and the presence of his Holy Spirit.

 

You’re facing a big challenge? You know what to do … ready? Take a deep breath …

MIND THE GAP!

So … we’ve cast our votes and elected our representatives. It seems all the parties have pre-rehearsed excuses as to why they didn’t do quite as well as expected and particularly why their opponents did so much better. We’ve heard it all before – it’s the stuff of politics.

 

What really disappointed me – again – was the low turnout. They reckon about 36% of the electorate turned out to vote and friends tell me that’s quite good. “Quite good?” So, 64% of us had a really good excuse for not strolling down to the local Polling Station and expending the enormous effort of picking up a piece of paper, writing two intersecting pencil lines on it and putting it in a black box? Take out the housebound and the infirm and a smattering of conscientious anarchists and you still have over half the eligible population not voting. Well … shame on us all!

 

I am getting increasingly worried (along with a few other Victor Meldrews, no doubt) by the widening gap that exists between rights and responsibilities nowadays. To put it more bluntly, I think too many of us are just too darn lazy! When we can’t be bothered to change the TV channel because our arm is not long enough to reach the remote, it is hardly surprising that we can’t be bothered to care about one another or the state of our communities or the moral choices of our society.

 

Perhaps the only thing that still has the power to tip us out of our armchairs is the thought that our rights might have been infringed; that something which we were entitled to had been withheld from us. Like free education, medical and hospital care, police protection and a state in which we have every right to say what we think of the government without incarceration. Funnily enough, the very things we had the opportunity to vote for but chose not to!

 

Perhaps we might start a scheme where participation in the rights and privileges of citizenship is only available to those who choose to use their vote. Maybe we should begin excluding those members of our society who can’t be bothered to engage in the system that governs and protects their lives. Because if we continually ignore our electoral responsibility, such unpalatable scenarios may happen anyway!

 

Our choices reflect our character. Please pray with me that we make the right ones.

UNEMPLOYED IN THE CHURCH

I don’t often write specifically about my job because, in all honesty, I don’t have one! Come off it John! you retort. We all know you work for the church. You’re a vicar. That’s your job.

Well, actually, it isn’t!

 

Yes, I am a vicar (or “rector” in my case) but it doesn’t actually qualify as a job. Not for me or for any of the other full time clergy in the Church of England. We’re not employed, unemployed or even self-employed – we’re “office holders” and we get paid a “stipend” not a salary. We actually have our very own unique tax bracket!

 

The idea is that we “work” for nothing but are given a rent-free house and a certain sum of money to cover our living costs and although that figure conforms to regional guidelines it isn’t a salary because the church doesn’t employ us. Some of us belong to a union and many of us now have terms and conditions of service but that still doesn’t make it a “job”.

 

So I guess that means I’ve been out of work for the last 33 years. Not that that gives me the faintest clue of what it is to be long-term unemployed, to face the dole queue or benefits office or endure the shame and frustration of being unpaid and unwanted. I know a good number in that position and it is heartbreaking and degrading.

 

I count myself blessed to pursue the vocation I have even though I’m still frequently told vicars only have to work one day a week. I’ve already told you – I don’t work any days! Psalm 90 makes this prayer: May the favour of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us – yes, establish the work of our hands.

 

Whether you are fortunate enough to be in paid employment, whether you are retired or carrying the burden of unemployment or even if you’re a vicar in the Church of England, I hope you can make this prayer your own. May what you do (paid or unpaid) be established and fruitful. May it be a blessing to others around you.

 

And may the favour of God rest upon you.

 

John

RINGING THE BELL FOR PEACE

A few weeks ago it was my very special privilege to visit the beautiful city of Hiroshima in Japan and view some of its ancient shrines and monuments. Like many millions before me I was also drawn to the amazing Peace Plaza commemorating one of the most grievous acts of brutal inhumanity ever perpetrated upon this earth.

 

At 8.15 am on August 6th 1945 an atomic bomb was detonated 600 metres above the  town hall heating the area to over one million degrees Celsius and flattening virtually every building within a 2 kilometre radius. Men, women and children were incinerated in seconds, crushed by masonry or had the flesh literally melt off their bones as they struggled to escape. In a very short period of time over 140,000 lost their lives. For months and even years after the incident many more died from the effects of radiation poisoning.

 

Citizens in and around Hiroshima lost colleagues, relatives and friends. Many found only the remnants of clothing or no trace at all of loved ones and were unable to find the closure brought though disposal of remains.

 

Hiroshima and Nagasaki are names that loom starkly in our global conscience alongside Auschwitz and Buchenwald as examples of appalling inhumanity and senseless violence. Yet even from these godless horrors beauty arises.

 

As I slowly paced the beautiful and simple Peace Plaza in the shadow of the still-standing burned-out carcass of the town hall and watched the Eternal Flame flickering above the cherry-blossom dappled waters of the memorial pool, I felt a deep emotion of peace and an awareness of the towering compassion of our God for this broken struggling world. And I read in many languages these words: Let all souls here rest in peace for we shall not repeat this evil.

 

Before entering the Hiroshima Memorial Peace Museum I paused to view the Bell of Peace, dedicated on September 20th 1964. I tolled it once and listened to the echoes throb outwards for the best part of a minute. I feel there is little I can do on this world’s great stage to make amends for the millions who die through war, torture and terrorism. What can one person do to make a difference and how could the sound of one bell, large though it is, do anything to change anything?

 

As I listened to the long heart-pulse of that bell on April 5th 2014, I confess I didn’t pray for world peace or even for peace in my community. I simply asked God to do all He could to change myselfish heart, to make me a man of peace, a purveyor of kindness, to perhaps touch those around me for the good. For peace begins when one decides to behave differently. Blessed are the peacemakers said Jesus for they shall be called sons and daughters of God.

Fates Fickle Fortune

Everybody loves a parade. Something to celebrate; something to shout about. Whether it is in Notting Hill or on Copa Cobana’s famous beach, a parade or carnival brings the crowds out to dance and sing and strut their stuff. The one we’re remembering this Sunday was a little different.

 

For a start, it was in a place that hadn’t seen much in the way of carnivals in previous years. The people there hadn’t much to write home about, languishing as they were under the oppressor’s boot. Fair enough, there was an historic festival taking place that week and it did commemorate a famous release. And then there was the focal point of the carnival – just the one float and a strange one at that.

 

A young Jewish woodcutter, feet dangling down the back of a young ass, solemn and serious-faced, surrounded by a crowd of screaming revellers, waving tree branches and palm-fronds and throwing their clothes down in the roadway. “Save!” they’re shouting in Hebrew; “Save, we pray!” It could almost be a party from the local Prudential!

 

You’ve recognised the event by now, of course. Palm Sunday, the “Triumphal Entry” of Jesus into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. The Messiah who brought peace and new life to his followers, not riding a conquering war-horse but a simple mule and so fulfilling the old prophecies from the scriptures. A red letter day for Jerusalem, to be sure.

But those same crowds who shouted “Hosanna!” on Sunday shouted “Crucify!” on Friday and the followers who welcomed the Son of David to save them were now a howling mob baying for his blood. Such is the fickleness of fortune and fate observe the commentators. Those who love you one moment hate you the next and people’s views and opinions shift like the blowing of the wind.

 

Politicians the world over have discovered there are none so fickle as the public and the loyalists who vote Republican one year vote Democrat the next whilst conservative hard-liners quickly change to socialist sympathisers depending on who offers the better deal. A cynical viewpoint you might think but one so often bourn out in reality. Who can you trust?

 

If it really was up to Fate and Fortune, I would say trust no one and don’t depend on anything because it will only let you down. However, the One who rode a donkey and broke a loaf and prayed a prayer and bore a lash and hung on a cross didn’t do any of that on a whim or at the mercy of chance. He knew where he was going and he knew what he was doing because it was written in the past and planned from the beginning. None of it happened by accident and none of it was dependent on the fickleness of human whim.

 

Next time you’re a victim of circumstance and the so-called vagaries of chance remember Someone Somewhere has a plan and, if you choose, you can be part of it. The following words hang on the wall of my house: I alone know the plans I have for you, plans to bring you prosperity and not disaster, plans to bring about the future you hope for.

PEELING BANANAS

My father in law Ken has always peeled his bananas upside down. At least, that’s what we thought until recently. We used to laugh at him because he insisted on holding the stalk in his hand and starting at the other end. You know, the end with the small black spot.

 

We all thought he was just being a typical stubborn Yorkshireman when he insisted, despite our jibes, that this was the correct way and, although it seemed rather unusual and unique, it was us that were wrong and not him. I must confess I was quite scathing about his unusual habit and made more fun of his practice than most members of the family.

 

Well now it’s me that has had to eat humble pie. Or perhaps I should say “banoffe pie”! According to the Internet it seems we were wrong and he was right. Peeling a banana from the “black spot end” rather than the “stalk end” is the way monkeys do it and, it turns out, this is the most efficient way. And I didn’t just take the word of the Web – I tried it! It was a remarkable experience.

 

First, you don’t need a sharp knife or even to attack the “stalk end” with your teeth (unpleasant taste!) but simply squeeze the “black spot end” and the banana pops open and peels neatly into four or five strips. Job done! One small word of warning that Ken didn’t mention … just under the “black spot end” is a little black “spike” that needs to be thrown out. Get rid of that and you can enjoy your banana with the minimum of fuss. Just like a monkey!

 

So here’s my public apology to Ken: SORRY DAD … YOU WERE RIGHT AND I WAS WRONG!

 

People who insist on doing something a certain way despite the critique of the crowd do need a certain amount of moral courage, I think you must agree. Forging ahead in a certain direction when everyone else is headed the other way: that takes determination and inner strength. It reminds me of a few bible heroes who stood up for what they believed in, despite the views of the majority, because they knew it was right. They may not have been peeling bananas but they knew the difference between right and wrong and were prepared to go God’s way rather than the way of the world.

 

By the way, did you hear about the guy in the jungle who met a monkey with a tin opener? He said, "You don't need a tin opener to peel a banana." The monkey said, "No, this is for the custard.”

 

Enjoy your banana, but do it right!

LET’S BUILD SOME MORE BRIDGES

Are you getting fed up with reading more and more stories about division and discord? Are you getting tired of watching news reports from Syria, Nigeria, Thailand, Egypt and, now, the Ukraine, about people fighting and killing one another because they cannot agree? I know I am!

 

There are lots of people I disagree with and I know there are plenty who don’t agree with me. But there’s no one I would disagree with enough to kill them. And I hope there’s no one I would stop speaking to because we hold different viewpoints. In point of fact, when I’ve taken the trouble to sit down and talk with them (or they with me) I’ve usually found that, even if we continue to disagree, we seem to get on a lot better.

 

There’s a world of difference between good healthy argument and sectarian division that leads to bloodshed and violence. And yet the “world of difference” that we all live in is simply a sign of diversity and the amazing plethora of variety that surrounds us. God made us all different just like he designed each separate snowflake, and we are going to have to learn somehow to live with difference and disagreement or we’ll just end up annihilating everyone else with a different point of view.

 

I learned many years ago that the more opposite our standpoints and opinions, the stronger the friendships we could make if we just learned to get on. Thus a young person could build a stronger link to an older person and a black person to a white. A Jew could get on better with an Arab and a Catholic with a Protestant. It is our very difference that makes us more interesting; it increases our impetus for understanding and makes more beautiful the complexity of our relationships.

 

The apostle Paul puts it like this: There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. I put it like this: The bigger the barrier we breach, the better the bridge we build.

 

And whether you’re a Jew or a Gentile, a male or a female, a believer or a seeker; there’s no doubt that building better bridges in this world of difference we inhabit is a very good thing to do!

 

THE JOHNSTOWN FLOOD

We’ve all watched and listened with horror to recent stories of flooding and catastrophe taking place across the Somerset Levels and along the banks of the Thames west of London. I have marvelled at the courage and resilience of families facing loss of homes and possessions and danger to life and limb and given thanks to God that I and my loved ones have been spared such privation.

 

There’s always someone worse off than you they say and it is true that what causes loss of personal belongings in the UK wreaks greater havoc in countries of the third world. We can still remember the terrible scenes from the Philippines disaster of last year. The following story illustrates the point.

 

On May 31st 1889 a spectacular flood took place in the small settlement of Johnstown, Pennsylvania. After several days of extremely heavy rain the South Fork Dam burst, unleashing 20 million tons of water on the town and a flood that subsequently killed 2,209 people. There were few survivors but they had stories of amazing, even miraculous, deliverance.

 

One (completely apocryphal and untrue!) story concerns George Maxwell who made a career out of regaling large crowds with his testimony of rescue and release. George travelled the length and breath of the country and even took overseas tours to tell the amazing story of “George Maxwell, only survivor of the Johnstown flood”!

 

George became a celebrity, a kind of “rock star” of the early 20thcentury and was still pulling large crowds in his eighties as he told his incredible story. Finally George died and went to heaven where he lived happily apart from his overwhelming desire to tell everyone his testimony.

 

So Saint Peter and the angels got together, booked a large venue and invited everyone to hear “George Maxwell, only survivor of the Johnstown Flood”. Just before the show Saint Peter slipped into George’s dressing room as the celebrity was straightening his gold lamé suit and putting the final touches to his makeup. “Just thought I’d drop by to wish you luck,” smiled the apostle, “and to let you know …

 

… we’ve got Noah in the audience!”

SHIGIONOTH!

Shigionoth! No – its not a swearword in Serbo-Croat. It’s a word that occurs just once in the Bible: at the beginning of the third chapter of Habakkuk to be exact. He’s one of the minor prophets by the way, so you can find his book towards the end of the Old Testament.

 

You won’t find this strange word in a dictionary or thesaurus or even on Wikipedia. I’m told this Hebrew word is broadly translated as “a highly emotional poetic form”. It is actually a musical term like the equally important word ”selah” that also pops up in Habakkuk. Shigionoth means getting excited and exuberant in singing, jumping about and dancing wildly.

 

You’d expect to see Shigionoth-type activity at a nightclub (or so I’m told!) where it is quite normal for people to bounce up and down to loud music, flail their arms about and generally get “pumped-up” to contemporary rhythm.  What is unusual about this instance in Habakkuk is that this is a response to sad circumstances!

 

If your roofs leaking or your road’s flooded - and, to be quite honest, whose isn’t these days? - well, try to shun the pity party and the gripe group! If you’re fed up with the economic situation or cheesed off with local politics, don’t get into a downward spiral of despair. If you’re facing illness or injury, sadness or cynicism, don’t be dragged into negativism and complaint.

 

Find a private place with a bit of space. If you’re really brave – take a like-minded friend. Put on some loud music and let rip! Shigionoth!“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation.” Habakkuk 3: 18

 

Go on! Try a bit of Shigionoth!

Sorry - the hardest word?

So … it seems Lord Rennard is finding it hard to say “sorry”. On the other hand, should he be apologising for something he claims he has not done? What do you think?

 

If someone says you have upset them, even if it relates to something you consider completely innocuous, should you be willing to say sorry? Will it make the other person feel better? Will your friends and family think better of you or will it mean you owning up to something you feel you’re not guilty of?

 

Of course, the Lord Rennard debacle is taking place in the full glare of the media so everyone is able to offer an opinion on the situation and the only people to really gain are the press barons and the solicitors.

 

Jesus faced trial by public opinion. Even though he only ever helped and healed he was falsely accused and sentenced to death by a mob baying for his blood. He was hung out naked to be gawped at by the ignorant and hypocritical.

 

People like me and you. People who find “sorry” a really hard word to say. Usually because we think it is someone else’s fault; someone else who deserves the blame. Well, they say no one’s perfect.

 

Except one person was. And the reason he died was the reason SORRY really is the hardest word. It costs a great deal. A very great deal. The life blood of God’s own son to be exact. Think about that the next time you get the opportunity to say that hard, hard word.