Wish I could be home for Christmas

Someone asked me yesterday what my favourite Christmas Carol was. I answered that there were a few I really like... and several that I really do not like terribly much!

He then asked me what my favourite Christmas ‘song’ was. That was more difficult to answer... but the answer is definitely not Slade’s ‘I wish it could be Christmas every Day’!

Nor would it be "Stop The Cavalry" by Jona Lewis, with its repeated line ‘wish I could be home for Christmas’. Nope, not my favourite. And yet I find myself humming it, singing it and whistling it a lot. Possibly that is because it has been playing in many shops I have been in during the weeks leading up to Christmas. But then, so have many other Christmas songs. I suspect that this one has stuck in my mind because I feel I can echo the sentiment.

I wish I could be home for Christmas.

I will, of course, be home and joining with the family for Christmas dinner etc. But this will be the first time in (almost) 40 years of marriage that Jane and I will not have been together on Christmas Eve, nor able to wish each other a Happy Christmas after the Watchnight Service and exchange our own Christmas gifts, and the first time in our family’s life when I have not been there first thing on Christmas Day and we have not been able to open our presents around the tree first thing in the morning.

I have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services in the parish I am currently with in Perthshire while Jane has the same in her own parish. So we are miles apart.

Our children – although adults – are not terribly impressed! They have named it ‘Chrexit’!

I could easily (too easily) begin to feel sorry for myself. But a moment’s thought puts this all into perspective. A moment’s thought for those facing their first Christmas without a dear loved one, for those who will be alone all Christmas, for those who have been driven from their homes into distant lands by terror, war, famine or drought, for those without a home at all... and so on.

We have made Christmas into a feast of food, comfort and family. And I love all of that! But it does not truly represent what the first Christmas involved, and which still sounds alarmingly contemporary... people far from home, with nowhere to stay, no doubt anxious and unsettled, eventually driven by the terror instigated by a cruel ruler into a distant land, and so on...

When I do raise a glass with my family come 2pm on Christmas Day and when we settle down in the warmth of home to open our gifts and share in a sumptuous meal, I hope I don’t forget Mary and Joseph and the infant Jesus and what they faced, nor forget what so very many are facing this Christmas.

After all, after a brief (and in the scale of things, utterly insignificant) separation, I will be at home for Christmas.

Advent Anticipation

Oh Advent!

Season of prayer and preparation.

Season of watching and waiting.

Season of patience and perseverance.

Season of anticipation and alertness.

I love Advent!

But I lament how it has been overtaken by premature Christmas celebration!

I prefer to dip into the ancient wisdom and intention of this season as a time of reflection and – indeed – repentance.

Although the penitential intent of this Season has been lost (and was never as significant as Lent) it is nonetheless a very important part of Advent, as indicated by the Lectionary’s rather awkward references to John the Baptist on the second and third Sundays of this season (one of the few instances when I think that the Lectionary planners must have had an early or long lunch!)

But I do try and take seriously the penitential intent of this season.

Not in the committed self-denial of Lent, but in terms of reflecting upon my life and my discipleship, and pondering how prayerful or prepared I am for the coming of the Lord.

This Advent I have been reflecting upon my life in relationship with others... as a Husband, as a Father, as a Friend, as a Minister, as a Child of God.

This is not all negative! There is much to celebrate. But also some forgiveness and healing required. And always the need to turn again, and seek God’s grace and strength to live and act and follow more faithfully.

I know how you feel

‘I know how you feel’.

How often we say it. How often we hear it. How often we are told it.

‘I know just how you feel...’, ‘...exactly how you feel...’, ‘yes, it is just the same for me...’ and so on.

I am quite sure that it is usually meant to be reassuring and it is certainly true that it can often help a person facing an issue to know that they are not entirely alone in facing it, struggling with it, worrying about it or whatever.

But few of us find the assertion ‘I know how you feel’ to be entirely helpful. Often quite the opposite.

For, of course, none of us knows, or can presume to know, just how another person feels. We do not share their experiences, circumstances or struggles.

As someone who has a chronic medical condition, I find it particularly unhelpful when someone tells me that they know exactly how I feel. People mean well, I think. But it really does not help.

As is the case with many other chronic health issues, multiple sclerosis has many different symptoms and often (in my case, usually) these can be hidden... invisible to the casual observer.

And, again like many other chronic health conditions, one of the main ‘hidden’ symptoms is fatigue. No, not simply tiredness, nor the exhaustion of having worked hard, nor the sleepiness that comes at the end of a day (or even during the day!). But a sick fatigue, a complete (and sometimes sudden) draining of energy which is utterly debilitating and sometimes physically and mentally paralysing. In my case it is sometimes (but not always) accompanied by ‘cognitive dysfunction’ ... brain fog.

Now just in case anyone who reads this is thinking of running to the phone, coming round with some chicken soup, writing a card or sending me a message or whatever, do not get the wrong idea! I am not talking about how things are at the moment. By and large I am fine just now. No panic!!

But even when I am fine, this fatigue can unexpectedly overtake me and I find I have to pull out of commitments, engagements or plans (whether work or social) at the last minute. I hope that most people understand that this is relatively rare, that I do not pull out of things lightly, that it is utterly frustrating and not at all desirable, and that by managing my energy resources in this way I am more likely to recover quickly and return to normality sooner. I think most of those with whom I work and minister and those who are my friends do understand this, and I am grateful.

I find I need that level of understanding from others. The constant balancing act, monitoring and conserving of my energy resources can sometimes feel a wee bit lonely and I can get it very badly wrong on occasion! So all the support I get is more than appreciated and is part of what allows me to continue to work and to minister (I hope with some degree of acceptance and fruitfulness!)

However, when someone says ‘I know just how you feel’, I feel my spirits sink. For (usually) I don’t think they do.

‘I know just how you feel, I was so exhausted when I got home from work the other day...’. No, that’s not what I am describing. I have felt that too. But this is not that!

‘I know just how you feel, ever since I turned 50/60/70 (delete as appropriate!) I have felt so tired and needed to have a wee snooze after lunch’. Yes, I can feel that too. But this is not that!

‘I know just how you feel, I had a stinking cold last week and just felt so drained...’. Well, to be fair, that is much closer to the experience... but not quite. This is not that!

When I attend the MS Therapy Centre for a session of oxygen therapy in the hyperbaric chamber, sometimes the group of us who are going ‘under pressure’ in the chamber chat a bit about our experiences. Two common themes are a) this experience of fatigue, and b) the fact that other people think they understand when they really do not.

When speaking to friends who have various chronic conditions or in offering pastoral support to others, I discover that this ‘sick fatigue / brain fog / energy drain’ is common in many conditions other than MS.

My point in writing this is not to claim anything unique for MS, still less to suggest that I am alone in facing this fatigue (clearly I am not!) nor yet to seek a sympathy vote.

My aim is to encourage us all (including me) to avoid the instant ‘I know just how you feel’ response. We don't.

It is so much more helpful, supportive and encouraging if we simply listen and – even if we do not fully understand what the other is experiencing– seek to be accepting of their situation and understanding of (for example) last minute call offs.

You really do not need to know ‘exactly how I feel’ to be a much appreciated friend and support. If you are really interested I would try my best to explain, though I would not wish to bore you.  But I do feel encouraged and supported when you hear me signal I am not doing too well, and support me in that, and understand when I need to suddenly step back.

Thank you to those who do! It is appreciated.

And because I recognise that I can be very poor at doing this for others (and can be too quick to suggest that ‘I know exactly how you feel’!) I am sorry if I have ever said that to you!

I will try and do better from now on...

Bitterly Divided

I am worried at how divided we have become and are increasingly becoming.

Whatever views we may have taken regarding the EU referendum, it is alarming that so much bitterness and vitriol and (in some cases) hatred has been uncovered and unleashed. I find it truly disturbing.

Almost everyone is somewhat cynical about politics and politicians, and I suppose that is nothing new. But the way in which people rather than policies are attacked and the irrelevant personal nature of some of these attacks is far from healthy or good.

And in wider society, the tendency to blame all our woes on ‘them’ (who ever the ‘they’ may be!) risks deeply dividing and fracturing our whole society.

And if it is bad in the UK, then it is no better in the USA as we have observed during the recent Presidential Election campaign. And there too it seems that something rather unpleasant has been unleashed within that society by way of hatred and tension.

I am not suggesting that those on either side of the debates in the UK or the USA necessarily or consciously intended the unleashing of hatred and tension. I hope they did not, and doubt that they did. But these worrying negative outcomes have nonetheless emerged (and many observers are far from surprised).

So what (if anything) is the role of the church in all of this?

Well, if the peacemakers are called ‘blessed’ and if reconciliation and the breaking down of dividing walls are to be seen as part of our mission then we surely do have a role.

Except... in the church we too are divided, and in our divisions we can seem to the public to be just as vitriolic as any other group in society. I do not mean denominational divisions – at least not solely or mainly these. The ‘fault lines’ are no longer solely or even primarily denominational.

The division now seem to be over theology, interpretation, Christian ethics, the nature of mission and so on. And of course the issue of sexuality has been the most obvious of late.

And yet, from what I know of colleagues and discussions and friendships within the church, the divisions are not as deep, nor as stark and nor as widespread as it may seem from public debates and media coverage. Which also makes me wonder about the national, political and societal divisions.

Division and disagreement makes for good entertainment. How much is the media to blame?

But how much also are politicians and commentators and church people to blame for the perception of division. We play the game in public... opposing views, staged debates, confrontational disagreement, in the TV studio or the Parliament or the newspaper column or the General Assembly or on Facebook etc etc.

I know the church, and I know that even those who bitterly disagree on some of the issues and who would be passionate in that disagreement in the debates at Assembly or Presbytery, nevertheless (mostly) can treat one another gently and respectfully as brothers and sisters in Christ when in private. Love wins... but why is it not seen to win?

It is even more marked in the arena of politics. The disagreements and debates can be offputtingly robust... and yet when some of these politicians get together away from the set piece, stage managed debates, out of sight of the TV cameras, they are perfectly civil, friendly and sociable with their political opponents. I know this, for I have frequently witnessed it.

But the public perception is different and it all plays into the hands of the media who love the entertainment of heated debate. And that just increases the cynicism of the public. Recent election and referendum results do suggest that the public is eager for some kind of change from ‘business as usual’.

Can we in the Church not find better ways of having our disagreements so that we might publicly model something different? Of course the danger is that we would become increasingly irrelevant to a media searching out scandal and interested only in sharp disagreements. But perhaps irrelevance would be better than shooting ourselves in the foot. And just maybe someone would notice that we have found a better way of handling the spectrum of views that exist in all human groupings.

And that may (just may) have a more positive effect on the wider discourse in society than we imagine.

A ‘mustard seed’ perhaps?

Don't give up

Many years ago I was in a place of very deep despair. I do not recall ever before, or since, feeling quite as hopeless as I did during that time of my life.

There were reasons for my feelings, but they are not relevant now.  However, I can still very vividly recall how I felt. I considered myself a worthless failure. I felt and thought myself to be useless; a useless person, a useless Christian, and most certainly a useless minister, father and husband.

I said that the reasons I felt that way are no longer really relevant. They were specific to my situation then, and peculiar to me and my experience. But I suspect that the feelings I experienced are fairly commonplace. My pastoral experience suggests that very many people go through periods of time, or specific experiences during which they feel hopeless and despairing.

The reasons will differ from person to person; a sudden and unexpected ‘loss of faith’, a crisis of health, relationship or finance, bereavement, a serious moral failure, a major misjudgement  and so on and on.

Whatever the reasons, many, if not most, people will have experienced times of utter despair and hopelessness. The Psalmists certainly did, and we do not get too far in reading through the psalms before we encounter expressions of despair and the loss of hope.

‘My soul is cast down within me... I say to God, my rock “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully...?” Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me...’ (Psalm 42).

Sound familiar?

All these years ago, when I was at my lowest point I had to take our son to a music exam. While he went in to sit his examination, I sat waiting outside in the car. As I sat there, I found myself sinking further and further into my inner gloom. The waves of worthlessness and hopelessness broke over me. I was close to panicking.

To distract myself I turned on the radio. The next song that was played was Peter Gabriel’s 1986 hit ‘Don’t give up’ on which Kate Bush also sings. The song expresses a deep sense of loss and failure. I felt that it was for me. And as Kate Bush sang the words ‘Don’t give up’ I felt that God was speaking to me.

I had not felt much of God’s presence for some time at that point. But I heard these repeated words as if they wereGod’s words to me ‘Don’t give up’.

As I sat in the car in tears, for the first time in weeks, a little spark of hope was born.

In Psalm 42 the psalmist goes onto say ‘Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.’

And why am I remembering and writing all this today? Well, I suppose because on occasion I hear the echoes of that despair and hopelessness from so many years ago. A cloud passes over and I reminded of the deep darkness I experienced.

Today is one such day.

But the memory of listening to that song and the message of the psalm also come back to me, and a ray of hope shines through the cloud.

Don’t give up.

And perhaps that might also speak to someone reading this blog today.

Don’t give up.

No Lasting City

For all the time I was in Edinburgh I regarded myself as an Edinburgh citizen, felt at home in the city and committed myself to supporting Edinburgh Rugby! This was a matter of some controversy and difficulty in my family. Our daughter and one of our sons (both of whom would regard Edinburgh as more ‘home’ than anywhere else they have lived) joined me in my support. But my wife and our other son considered that – as they are Glaswegian by origin – they should stick with their roots and continue to consider themselves Glaswegian, and (crucially) should support Glasgow Warriors.

All of which led to some interesting times when we attended the 1872 matches between Edinburgh and Glasgow as a family over the Festive Season!

I was accused of being fickle (and worse!).

But in fact I am consistent.

When I lived in Fife I went to football matches at Bayview to watch East Fife lose (often!) but I cheered them on. Also in Fife I would occasionally go to watch Glenrothes Rugby Club play.

In Perth I would occasionally watch St Johnstone play at McDiarmid Park and would happily cheer them on. They were my local team. And I often would wander down to the North Inch of a Saturday to watch Perthshire Rugby Club play, and meet up with friends who were fellow supporters (or – indeed – in some cases, players... them, not me!).

Now I am back in the West and near Glasgow (except when I am not and acting as an Interim Minister in rural Perthshire... but that just complicates things!). Will I be continuing to support Edinburgh Rugby? No, of course not! I no longer live there. I am planning to watch and cheer on and actively support Glasgow Warriors at Scotstoun.

Some of my family are confused and bemused. But it all makes perfect sense to me. Wherever I am is home.

And that is the truth for me. Wherever I am, or have been, I have made my home and it has felt like home.

For the moment, the strange thing is that I have two homes... Lennoxtown near Glasgow (where Jane is Minister) and that part of rural Perthshire where the parishes I am serving as Interim Minister are situated.

And in fact both feel like home!

And yet, nowhere truly feels like home... It is as if ‘home’ is still something that awaits me.

The words from the letter to the Hebrews have long had a very deep resonance for me. ‘Here we have no lasting city, but we are looking for the city that is to come’ (Heb 13:13).

I have counted Perth, Edinburgh and Glasgow my home cities at various times in my life. But my real home city still awaits.

Coming to Terms 1

No, not the Referendum Result and the apparent impending Brexit (or not?)!

These may be the concerns of ‘Coming to Terms 2’.

I am thinking about something more personal here.

Today I was (again!) at the doctor and was told that I may have to attend hospital for a wee surgical procedure entirely unrelated to my pre-existing conditions. Mildly irritating really… but perhaps a sign of the obvious; I am getting older.

This was brought home to me over my recent holiday. Jane and I were camping in Cornwall. We love camping and cannot understand why so many of our friends and contemporaries disparage it! Of course, we also enjoy those holidays spent in relative luxury in a hotel or on a cruise ship… (ah yes, cruise ships… more later!). But – for us – you cannot beat camping. The proximity to nature, the joy (yes, really!) of simple living, the absence of TV, and waking up to the dawn chorus… all wonderful!

But my poor ageing body is not coping as well as once it did. On getting up my muscles seemed to ache, my joints were stiff and my bones felt like they were creaking! But we are not giving up… instead we are thinking of investing in still more camping gear to facilitate future tent holidays.

But I am not as young as once I was.

That is where cruise ships come in…

…until ten years ago I considered a cruise the worst possible holiday I could imagine. Apart from anything else, it was for old people. Over recent years we have been on three (thankfully in small ships and not on these huge, grotesque, environmentally toxic behemoths). But I have become a bit of a convert. Could it be that is because I am reaching that age??

Back to our recent Cornwall holiday. As well as enjoying the camping and the periods of good weather, we went to a couple of places where you pay to get in. It was terribly unnerving to find that I qualified for a ‘Senior Citizen’ ticket. What! Me?

It was still more disconcerting that when I asked for such, no-one asked me for evidence of my age or questioned my eligibility! I mean, do I look 60?

Well, I know the answer. Every morning when I look in the mirror it is plain to see.

But I still find it mightily unsettling.

Musing upon all this with Jane, she commented

‘I always knew that one day I would be this old; I just didn't think it'd happen this soon!’

Very true!

I turned to Psalm 71 which is a real Psalm of old age.

‘Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent… even to old age and grey hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to all generations to come..’ (vs 9 & 18)

Yes, I think  I am coming to terms with it… but slowly.

Dumbing Down

Welcome to the first post on my new blog. I felt that ‘Cuthbert in Edinburgh’ was no longer appropriate or accurate (although you can still access my previous posts on that blogpage.)

And so, picking up from my final post on the ‘Cuthbert’ page I have called this blog ‘Suitcase Sojourner’ (as that is what I feel I am at the moment!)

As for ‘dumbing down’... it has been a frustration of mine for some time that the vast majority of practising Christians and regular church goers are so remarkably poorly educated in matters theological.

I cannot understand it!

It was not always thus.

It would be tempting to blame it on the desire for control and power on the part of the medieval Roman Catholic hierarchy (always a favourite scapegoat for Protestants!). And there may be a part truth in that. Yet, the apparent awareness of the Christian ‘laity’ in Scotland around the time of the Reformation, Covenanters, Disruption (to name but three) may rather undermine that assertion.

But what really brought all this to the forefront of my mind goes back to much earlier turbulent times in the history of the Christian Church.

I was recently reading about some of the issues surrounding the great 4^th Century controversy over the nature of the Trinity; a controversy that led directly to the formulation of the Creed we now call the Nicene Creed.

What struck me as I read was that the controversy was not confined to bishops, clergy or theologians. The followers of Arius (whose views were to be rejected as heresy) were the ordinary Christian people of Alexandria who marched through the streets to the great church and the bishop’s house with placards chanting ‘There was when the Son was not’.

Such theological sophistication (even if it was judged heresy!) would be hard to find amongst ordinary Christians today. Why is that?

The book I have been reading quotes sources which speak of how the ancient Christians used to discuss matters of significant theological depth when they were shopping!

Hmm... things have changed.

Now most church goers talk about.. well... church going! Meanwhile, dutiful evangelicals look for opportunities to ‘witness’ to personal faith. And theological discourse? That is (at best) left to those suitably trained or (at worst) disparaged.

What has happened?

I am not sure I know, but this ‘dumbing down’ has not done us any good and it is well past time we all worked hard at the theological education of the people of God.

And by that I mean real theological education.

What a shame that the avenues for that which once existed seem to be no more.