The Eye of the Beholder

 

‘I know what I like, and I like what I know…’

(from ‘I know what I like (In your wardrobe)’ by Genesis, from the album ‘Selling England by the Pound’, 1973)

 

 

Much has been said about Donald Trump’s decorative additions to the White House. Not much of what has  been said is complimentary! The gold leaf applied to so many features, and the numerous gold ornaments, and so on, are certainly not to my taste. Compared with what I thought was the noble grandeur and classical grace of the unadorned White House interior, I (along with many others, including Barak Obama) consider the new decorations to be tacky and tawdry, cheap and crass.

But perhaps it is just a question of taste?

I recall that much of classical Greek architecture, such as the Parthenon in Athens – now  a noble and grand ruin, starkly white – was originally brightly coloured and much adorned. Perhaps stark simplicity is simply my (our?) taste, and what to our eyes seems gaudy and over the top is actually beautiful in the eyes of some beholders (and certainly seems to have been considered beautiful in times past).

All of which thoughts arise out of my recent visit to the beautiful and wonderful city of Prague and – in particular – to the Church of St Nicholas in that city which is regarded as one of the best examples of Baroque church architecture.

I do not much care for Baroque architecture in general. But in churches it feels to me to be particularly inappropriate. All that richness, and decoration, and visual ‘busyness’ – is that really what we want to be portraying about Christianity?

But, it was as I was sitting in the Church of St Nicholas in Prague (which, it should be noted, had a somewhat unexpected but welcome atmosphere of peace, prayerfulness, and ‘presence’) that I began to challenge my preconceptions and prejudices.

Is it simply a matter of taste and experience? ‘I know what I like’ is often really a case of simply ‘I like what I know’!           `

As a Scottish Presbyterian, I am more used to simple churches with somewhat starker decoration. Instinctively, that seems more fitting to me, and more in keeping with my understanding of Christian faith, and the person of Jesus.

That said, I do like church architecture, and stained glass, and beauty in sanctuaries (I was for several happy years the Minister of St Cuthbert’s in Edinburgh, after all!). And I totally get that for most of Christian history, most of the worshippers were illiterate, and – until the arrival of the  printing press – few of those who could read had access to copies of Scripture, and so folks relied on other senses (sight, sound, smell, as well as sermons) to ‘tell the story’.

But that in itself raises the question of just what story is being told by the rich and (to my eyes) gaudy adornments of Baroque church architecture?

These musings were reawakened a few days later when I was reading in the Book of Revelation. John’s vision of heaven is really quite something! Jasper, carnelian, an emerald rainbow, golden crowns, white robes, a sea of crystal, not to mention incense, and altars, and weird beasts, and horsemen on horses of various colours, and angels, and elders and….!!!

And that all took me back to the Baroque interior of the Church of St Nicholas in Prague. And I found myself wondering if the intention of the architect was to convey something of the majesty and richness of the heavenly realms; to display the glory of God; to lift the eyes and the spirits of the worshippers above the difficulty and drudge of this world, and the privations and pains of this life, to see that greater and glorious reality that lies behind the veil.

Perhaps.

And perhaps our familiar, simple Scottish Kirks, which feel comfortable and fitting to me, fail to convey something of the glory of heaven.

And perhaps it all exposes my own preferences and prejudices.

And perhaps I am guilty of liking what I know (ie – that with which I feel comfortable and familiar)

And perhaps beauty is simply in the eye of the beholder?

Perhaps.

But I still don’t much like Donald Trump’s gold adorned White House!

The Witness of Peace: Within and Without

 

‘Peace is a stream
From the heart of a man;
Peace is a man, whose breadth
Is the dawn.
Peace is a dawn
On a day without end;
Peace is the end, like death
Of the war’

(from ‘Peace: An End’ by King Crimson, from the album ‘In the Wake of Poseidon’, 1970)

 

 

In this past week, a number of very disparate and random things have somehow combined in my mind to provoke some reflection.

Just a few days ago I saw my first Christmas Tree! Now, as a man who would prefer not to see any Christmas decorations until Christmas Eve, and then have them remain until at least 6^th January (Epiphany); perhaps even 2^nd February! (Candlemas) this came as a bit of a shock, which was compounded the next day when I saw that The Dome in Edinburgh is also already decorated for Christmas!

Bah! Humbug!

Of course, as any of you who have ever read any of my Advent blogs or listen to my Advent sermons (or even had the misfortune of spending time in a pub with me before Christmas) will know, this is a favourite theme of mine. So, it was a bit of a surprise that in fact my initial response was not to rant about premature Christmas celebrations, but instead to be reminded of the angels’ message of ‘Peace on Earth’.

I suppose that this response may well have  been occasioned by the state of the world today, and by the recent and forthcoming elections in various countries, some of which may have serious implications for global peace, and all of which seem to bear witness to very divided, hostile, and unreconciled communities.

There seems little sign of peace on earth, or within nations themselves.

And then, to add yet another random thing into the mix, I read an account of a recent public conversation between an agnostic commentator and a devoutly Christian scientist and apologist. What struck me was that the agnostic interviewer was impressed, not mainly by the arguments and convictions of the believing scientist, but rather by his ‘peace and contentment’. It was that inner ‘centredness’ and ‘settled-ness’ that came closest to convincing him about the truth of Christian faith.

I then briefly read about a Christian saint who was martyred for his faith, and – as is so often the case with martyrs – who went to death displaying and declaring that he was at peace with God, with himself, and with his fate.

Peace within, and peace without.

This set me to thinking.

Is peace ‘indivisible’? In other words, could the lack of peace in our communities and our world reflect the lack of peace in our lives? If we were more at peace within, would that create peace on earth?

Can there be peace with us and between us, if we are not at peace with God? (and, as a Christian, I firmly believe that finding peace with God is where it all begins).

What does peace with God and peace within mean for how we might face life’s storms, difficulties, and even death?

Does my life display an inner peace that others notice? (and if not, why not?).

And, with these random thoughts and questions, inspired by a few different experiences in this past week, I will make every attempt to set Christmas, and even Advent aside for a few weeks.

But the questions remain…

…peace be with you!

Time

 

‘Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day…

…Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught, or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say’

 

(from ‘Time’ by Pink Floyd, from the album ‘The Dark Side of the Moon’, 1973)

 

 

 

There are several folks who visit our home or stay over (indeed, even some who live here!) who find the sound of ticking or chiming of clocks disturbing or disruptive. Sometimes we have to stop the clocks to prevent the ticking keeping folks awake, and one of our (admittedly loud!) chiming clocks is now set not to chime, which – for me personally – is a great shame! I love the sound of ticking clocks and I enjoy the regular chimes. I find it all strangely comforting, as well as slightly sobering. Time is passing, and I cannot deny it. But that is ok.

I have said before in some of the posts on my blog that I am very comfortable with the passing seasons of life, and with the stage at which I now find myself.

However, sometimes I am also a little disconcerted by the apparent pace of time! Gosh, it passes quickly, does it not?

I was walking the dog earlier today and I was struck by the signs of autumn, with the leaves turning and falling. Autumn already! I gather that already people are planning for Christmas (I know… shocking, but true). And, speaking of the dog, our once youthful, playful, mischievous, energetic little puppy, is now facing many of the ailments and restrictions of being old. How did that happen? It has all been so quick!

In just a few months, Jane and I will celebrate our Golden Wedding Anniversary… yes, 50 years! And, as if that was not enough of a thought, we find that our grandchildren provide a constant and continual reminder of how quickly the years go.

Time flies.

Well, yes, of course it does. And yet, I am not at all resentful or despairing. As I write this, I can hear a couple of clocks ticking gently in the background, and still find them gently reassuring and comforting.

I have to say that I think a lot about time, and its passing. I ponder my current age and stage, and sometimes make mention of it in conversation. But not in any morbid or depressed way. Far from it. I think in times past I thought too much about the passing of time in a more negative way. I was so future focussed that I did not spend enough time enjoying the present, or reflecting upon the past.

Now it is different; as the clocks tick, I find myself happily cherishing many good memories, and gently enjoying the present moment. I am honest and realistic about the future and am often reminded that time is – if not short – neither is it endless, and that is just fine, thank you. Meanwhile, I find I can appreciate the ‘now’ much more than I used to.

For me, there is a bigger reality behind and beneath and beyond all of this passage of time. My faith is in One who holds all of time in his hands. And who holds me also in his hands, now and for all of eternity.

Jesus said ‘"I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end" (Revelation 22:13).

I have shared before that as the years pass, in terms of my faith, I get more and more sure about less and less! This assurance of being held in the hands of the One who holds in his hands all of existence, even time and eternity, is one of these things of which I am increasingly sure.

And as the clocks go on ticking, I remember that too.

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing to Say

 

‘I know nice men who have nothing to say
Except "What a nice day, may I say that today's a nice day
'Cause I've nothing to say"

(from ‘Erudite Eyes’ by Giles, Giles, and Fripp, from the album ‘The Cheerful Insanity of Giles, Giles, and Fripp’, 1968)

 

This morning I suddenly realised that I had not posted on my blog for over a week. Following my recent decision to post more regularly, that came as a wee bit of a shock. Good intentions, and all that.

Last week there were lots and lots of things that came to mind about which I had thought of blogging. I didn’t have the space to write anything at the time, and now, alas, today I can remember none of them, and I have not a clue as to what to write.

Nothing to say.

So, perhaps I would have been well advised to say nothing!

Ok, so that’s not going to happen, is it? Those who know me well, will be aware that I have never knowingly or willingly missed an opportunity to say something, even if I really have nothing to say.

And that’s the issue.

Why do we feel the need to say something when there is really nothing to be said?

One way or another, in these days it seems that we are drowning in a sea of words; and much of what is said is unnecessary, or (worse) manipulative, cruel, harmful, incendiary.

Not every vacuum needs to be filled with us saying things, and especially if we really have nothing to say… or at least nothing that is kind, positive, constructive, or necessary.

As a Minister and preacher within the Reformed tradition I am aware of how thirled to words I can be. I think I have this in common with many of my fellow preachers. Now, just to be clear, I am not saying that words are not important as a means of communication, still less that I do not value the ‘preaching of the Word’ as being very much at the heart of our Reformed understanding and practice of worship.  

That I believe – and practice (although I would like to also add something about the importance of Sacrament and of Community. That is all for another time).

But where do we regularly allow time for space and silence in our worship?

Why do we not value the visual and tactile as much as the oral and aural?

How come we feel the need to ‘say’ something, when saying nothing would be better?

And, look what I have done! I had nothing to say, and now I’ve said too much.

And there is the problem.

 

 

City of God?

 

‘Lost in the city.

Lost in their eyes as you hurry by…

…I feel lost in the city’

(from ‘Heart of the Sunrise’ by Yes, from the album ‘Fragile’, 1971)

 

 

In just a few days’ time we will be going to a concert by Jon Anderson, former singer and front man of the progressive rock band, Yes. His current tour apparently includes mainly songs from his many decades with Yes. They are a band I first saw as a 14 year old in 1970, and have seen countless times since then.

‘Heart of the Sunrise’ (quoted above) is one of my favourite Yes tracks, and I vividly recall the first time I ever heard it, when they played it live at a concert in Glasgow in October 1971, just before the release of the LP ‘Fragile’ on which it was featured. I was struck by its power and force then, and I still highly rate it 55 years on.

Jon Anderson is now coming up for 82 years old, so I am not sure if he will be able to sing it with anything like the same force as was the case five and a half decades ago. We’ll see!

But I do know that his own interpretation of the lyrics (and, given that he penned them, he should know!) was about being lost, disoriented, and disturbed by the city. I gather that when they were recording a later album, he insisted that bales of hay and life-size models of farm animals be moved into the studio so that he could feel they were recording in the country!

Anyone who knows me (or indeed, readers of my blog) will be well aware that I do not share Anderson’s distaste for the city! I love cities.

Of course, I also appreciate the countryside and the seaside; I have spent many a happy day on the mountains or by a loch. But it is the city that energises me. A day in the city (most any city) is a day well spent and will give me a smile and a sense of renewal.

So, I am obviously biased!

However, I have long wondered why it is that in contemporary Christianity, landscapes and seascapes usually provide the background for images with inspirational verses, or PowerPoint hymn lyrics. And in much devotional writing, much is made of the perception of the renewing presence of God, by the waterside and among the hills; but not so much the city.

There are, of course, exceptions to this. The writer of modern prayers in a Celtic vein, the late Rev David Adams, former Vicar of Lindisfarne, wrote many prayers drawing on observations on nature. This is much as you would expect, I suppose.

Then he published ‘Power Lines: Celtic Prayers About Work’ in 1992, with the cover illustration depicting a refinery or petro-chemical plant. I hardly think that would go down too well now! However, the book shook me a bit at the time – in a positive way. It made me think about how we express our spirituality, where we discern God, and what inspires us.

And here’s the thing; I find that the buzz of a city speaks to me of the holy and the spiritual; I see Jesus in the faces of the crowds, I hear God speak as I wander the streets, or browse in a bookshop, or stroll through an art gallery.

It is not that I don’t find spiritual connections in more rural settings or as I listen to the waves breaking on the shore; I do. But perhaps not as much as other folks do.

And, I have often thought about how Scripture sees things, and I have frequently been struck by the fact that the vision of John in Revelation was of a New Jerusalem.

It’s going to be a city folks!

Indeed, there is also going to be no sea! Let these two facts sink in for a moment…

And, today, I was reading Psalm 107, and I was again stuck by how positively towns and cities are viewed.

 

Some wandered in desert wastes,

finding no way to an inhabited town;

hungry and thirsty,

their soul fainted within them.

Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble,

and he delivered them from their distress;

he led them by a straight way,

until they reached an inhabited town.

Let them thank the LORD for his steadfast love,

for his wonderful works to humankind.

                                                             Psalm 107: 4-8

Now, to be fair, the same Psalm extols the joys of pools of water, the wonders of the sea, fields of cattle, and vineyards. But it remains the case that not everything about the sea or the hills etc is regarded as positive in Scripture (in fact, far from it) and not everything about cities is depicted as distasteful or undesirable (again, far from it).

So, perhaps next time I have to prepare the background for a PowerPoint slide I should choose a streetscape and not some supposed rural idyll.

And, with these inconclusive musings, I am off to meet a with a friend… in the city of course!

The joy of growing old

 

 

‘Old man on the back porch, old man on the back porch,

Old man on the back porch, and that old man is me’

(from ‘Back Porch’ by The Presidents of the United States of America, 1995)

 

 Well, it seems that I turned 70 a few months ago!

 How did that happen?

The evening before my birthday, I surprised my wife, Jane, by opening a bottle of champagne and handing her a glass. She was confused as to why the evening before my birthday warranted champagne. And then I explained that I had been researching the definitions of middle age and old age and I could find no definition of middle age that extended beyond 69. Old age began at 70 – at the latest! And so, I reasoned, why not celebrate my last few hours of being middle aged!

I was discussing all of this just recently with a friend who is a good few years older than me. It was not a morbid, depressing, or resentful discussion. Not at all!

For there are so very many positives in growing older. Yes, there are things that remind me on a daily basis of the passing of the years, and not all of these are by any means welcome. But when weighed against the very many positives, I find myself feeling both content and grateful.

And forward planning takes on a very different flavour. Meetings with solicitors about revising our wills and Powers of Attorney etc were not top of the list in my twenties! And just a short while ago Jane and I were briefly discussing who of our many ministerial friends we might ask to conduct our funeral services when the time comes.

Curiously, even in this last chapter – so to speak – forward planning has a certain importance that I might not have imagined when I was younger.

But it is the pleasure of the present that is the most enriching thing about being this age. While I am not (and probably will never be) fully retired, but am still involved a wee bit in ministry, there is the joy of being able to choose what, and whether, and when. Also, I enjoy the pleasure of growing older as a couple; there is – I find – something very rewarding in that. And, of course, the utter delight in being a grandfather is beyond expression!

So, there is so much to enjoy and embrace. Old age is fine… and fun!

I have sometimes watched ‘Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing’. I do know that it is not everyone’s cup of tea, but I really rather enjoy the reflective and whimsical musings of these two ageing comedians discussing health, and life, and death (and there’s the fishing too!).

In one episode I watched, they were speaking about death, funerals, and eternal destiny. In the course of the episode they also engaged in a discussion with a vicar about these matters. It was a thoughtful, gentle, and respectful conversation. Afterwards they acknowledged to each other that neither of them particularly had a faith, or a belief in a ‘life beyond’. Yet they were clearly struck by the vicar’s perspectives, and her faith, and her wisdom, and one said to the other ' you know, there are lots of people much cleverer than us who believe'.

Which is a rambling way of me getting to the point, which is that as I get older, I find myself becoming less sure (and certainly less vehement!) regarding some aspects of my faith. And yet, I become ever more sure about some things, and amongst these is that, when the time comes, I will be embraced into the eternal love, and light, and life of God.

Meanwhile, this old man is happily living out his life; grateful for what has been, content with what is, and unafraid of what is to come.

 

Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends…

 

 

‘Welcome back, my friends,

to the show that never ends;

we’re so glad you could attend,

come inside, come inside’

(from ‘Karn Evil 9’ by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, 1974)

 

 

I last posted on my blog in February 2025, having promised that I was about to unleash a torrent of posts on an unsuspecting world! And here I am, almost 18 months later, having failed to fulfil my promise. Well, it has been quite an unexpectedly hectic year, for one reason or another.

But here I am… again. Welcome back… and I do hope that a different rhythm to my life is now dawning, and that I will be able to blog again more regularly.

The show never ends!

And how true that is in so many (not always happy) ways.

ELP’s ‘Karn Evil 9’ from which I have quoted above, paints a dystopian picture. Indeed, from 1969 until 1974, a lot of prog rock was so dystopian that it was described as ‘doom rock’. (Check out some early King Crimson, or Van Der Graff Generator, etc)

In these times, we were still in the Cold War era, imminent nuclear annihilation was on our minds, there seemed to be constant global instability.

And here we are in 2026 and the details may be different, but (to me at least) it all feels very much the same.

‘Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends’.

My last post on my blog was – as I said – in February 2025, and I have just re-read it, and it too was commenting on the state of things in the world.

‘plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose’.

I am often accused (mainly by my family) of being negative, pessimistic, and grumpy. I think that they are being unfair, and that I am simply realistic. But, then, a pessimist would say that, wouldn’t they?

However, in fact, while I can get a bit down about the state of the world at the moment, I am actually full of hope, arising out of my faith. I firmly and fully believe that God has a plan and that, in time, it will come to pass. Justice and peace will kiss. Crying and dying will be no more. All things will be made new.

This I believe.

And because I believe that, I will continue to work, pray, and hope for a better world.

‘Your kingdom come, your will be done’