Don't Give Up

 

‘I am a man whose dreams have all deserted …

Don't give up
You still have us
Don't give up
We don't need much of anything’

 Peter Gabriel (with Kate Bush) ‘Don’t Give Up’

 I am, by nature, a planner. I like forward planning. I know some people find planning stressful, but I find just the opposite. For me, the absence of forward planning and early preparation leads to stress. To plan, and to look forward and – perhaps – even to dream a bit, is to heighten anticipation. It all offers a welcome foretaste of whatever it is that is coming.

It may therefore be no wonder that those of us who are like that, are finding that the current ‘pandemic-determined’ uncertainty with rapid plan changes can be deeply unsettling and stressful. I have already referred in recent posts to the weariness that can result and the stress of constant decision making.

And now, into all of that situation, on a more personal level, we have had to also handle a very unexpected change in our family Christmas plans. I say ‘change’. I mean really an almost total abandonment! This is not because of Omicron but is due to illness in the family (not Covid-related and not long-term serious, but certainly short-term disruptive).

To say I am disappointed would be an understatement… deflated, distressed, dismayed… and more besides.

Of course, all of this will pass (which I have also said in another recent post). However, it is playing into another deeper vein of disappointment that has been around as I contemplate my imminent retirement. That has to do with the church and its future, what I have been able to contribute (or not) to the life and renewal of the church, the roles I have been able to fulfil, and those I have had to step back from or decline due to health challenges.

As I now look back, I feel that my dreams for the future renewal of the church have not – as yet – come to much. The vision I had for a new way of church emerging has not been realised. And the kind of role I imagined (perhaps rather arrogantly!) I might have in all of that process came to an end some years ago.

I may have had dreams, but God may have had different plans!

I think of Joseph who was planning to get married to Mary. We might well imagine that he had plans and dreams. And then these were all shattered when he learned of Mary’s pregnancy. We can only begin to imagine what he might have been feeling. In the context of his culture and time it would have been beyond devastating.

But it was a different kind of dream that alerted him to God’s bigger plan. As Matthew tells us ‘all of this took place to fulfil what God had said through the prophet.. ‘ (Matthew 1: 22). God had a plan, and this plan had been around for a while! Joseph’s hopes and dreams may have seemed to have been dashed, but there was a bigger plan at work.

Now, I am not suggesting that all the difficult things that we may be facing in these days (as a society, as a church, or individually) are ‘planned’ by God or are his will in the absolute sense. I do not see God as some kind of capricious puppet-master!

But in everything we need to be ready to ask where God is in all that is occurring, to seek to discern his presence in the midst of his apparent absence and distance, to listen to his voice not simply reassuring and comforting, but also directing and revealing.

Perhaps in these kinds of situations there are questions to ask about what God can do, how we discern God’s presence and where we discover his way and will in and through it all.

In the Book of Proverbs (part of the Old Testament ‘wisdom’ literature) it is written:

‘The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps’ (Proverbs 16: 9)

So, don’t give up…

 

POSTSCRIPT: ‘Don’t Give Up’

That song (written by Peter Gabriel and sung by him in a duet with Kate Bush) spoke very deeply to me many years ago when I was on the point of utter despair. I was in the car and the radio was on and on came that song. I sat and wept as it seemed that it was so clearly speaking to me.

Perhaps it will speak to you too?

Peter Gabriel (good surname in this context!) wrote it about a man whose unemployment causes stress in his domestic relationship. The verses, sung by Gabriel, describe the man's feelings of isolation, loneliness and despair; the choruses, sung by Kate Bush, offer words of hope and encouragement.

Here are the lyrics:

In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my name, I've changed my face
But no one wants you when you lose 

Don't give up
'Cause you have friends
Don't give up
You're not beaten yet
Don't give up
I know you can make it good 

Though I saw it all around
Never thought I could be affected
Thought that we'd be the last to go
It is so strange the way things turn

Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground

Don't give up
You still have us
Don't give up
We don't need much of anything
Don't give up
'Cause somewhere there's a place
Where we belong

Rest your head
You worry too much
It's going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don't give up
Please don't give up

'Got to walk out of here
I can't take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
And whatever may go
That river's flowing
That river's flowing

Moved on to another town
Tried hard to settle down
For every job, so many men
So many men no-one needs

Don't give up
'Cause you have friends
Don't give up
You're not the only one
Don't give up
No reason to be ashamed
Don't give up
You still have us
Don't give up now
We're proud of who you are
Don't give up
You know it's never been easy
Don't give up
'Cause I believe there's a place
There's a place where we belong

 

Decisions, Decisions

 

‘Did I make the right decision,

did I choose the wrong time?

I can’t seem to make my mind up,

could be I’m just wasting time…’

 

David Denniston ‘Next Time’

 
 
At some point within the next 48 hours some very important decisions are going to have to be made. Those who make them will probably have to do so with only a limited information, weighing up the potential costs and sacrifices, and without any advance knowledge of whether or not the decisions being made are the right ones.
 
I am not an uncritical supporter of any of our current political leaders, but nor do I envy them the decisions they will once again need to make. I may not always agree with them, but theirs is no easy job. I will certainly continue to pray for wisdom for them.
 
Decisions, decisions.
 
Church ministers, elders and congregational leaders are also facing some hard decisions. Many churches have already committed to going ahead with ‘in person’ services over the Christmas period (unless a ban on such gatherings is imposed). Others have resolved to go ‘on line’ only for the time being. Still others have to make a decision over the next day or two. Our congregation is in that final category. We are not sure what to do.

Decisions, decisions.

And many people will be waiting anxiously for any further guidance / advice / restrictions / requirements about festive gatherings and family get-togethers. I am nervous about that too, not least as we had planned our big family get-together for after Christmas when there may be a greater likelihood of some kind of ‘lockdown’ being brought in. So, what should we do? What will we do?
 
Decisions, decisions.
 
Nothing is clear and nothing is easy.
 
And possibly all of this is playing its part in disrupted sleep and anxious thoughts, for me as for many.
 
‘Hear my voice when I call, O Lord, be merciful to me and answer me… teach me your way, O Lord, lead me in a straight path.’ (Psalm 27 vs 7 & 11)

Tired

 

 

‘I'm so tired

My mind is on the blink…

…I’m so tired,

I don’t know what to do…

…I’m so tired,

I’m feeling so upset’

 

The Beatles ‘I’m so tired’

 

 
The other day I was looking back at some of my blog posts from previous years. When compared to this year’s Advent offerings they seemed quite articulate and sometimes almost profound (and at least a wee bit insightful).
 
This year I just have not had the clarity of thought, the energy, or the ideas.
 
I am just a bit washed out and rather tired.
 
Now, I do tend to get quite tired quite a lot. Or, rather, I am prone to periods of health related fatigue. That is not quite the same as tiredness, but it is not easy to properly explain. But there is (as always) some of that.
 
But this is different.
 
This is a tiredness which I suspect is felt by many at the moment.
 
It is the mental tiredness that comes from anxiety about the virus and its variants, the uncertainty about plans, the constant changing and adjusting, the concern about family and loved ones, the absence of much social interaction, the excess of Zoom meetings, and so much more besides.
 
So, dear reader, my apologies for this year’s Advent posts and the absence of any profundity!
 
This tiredness which so many are experiencing at the moment may be affecting my creativity, but for many others it is more severely impacting upon their mental health, and that is more worrying. In these last few days the First Minister has warned of an impending ‘tsunami’ of the omicron variant and the Prime Minister has spoken of a ‘tidal wave’. At the time I thought that these descriptions were a wee bit unhelpful and possibly alarmist. I would rather be presented with the facts than with hyperbole! But now, just a few days on, I wonder if they were correct after all, and perhaps they were not really being alarmist.
 
But the tsunami that I really fear is that of the mental health implications for so many in our society.
 
Meanwhile, in my own less severe weariness and anxiety I am finding comfort and strength and hope in the promise of Jesus – the so-called ‘words of comfort’ ‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.’ (Matthew 11: 28).
 
 
 
 

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

 

 

‘Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be
There's a shadow hanging over me
Oh, yesterday came suddenly’

 The Beatles ‘ Yesterday’

 

This post is (mainly) not about the virus or vaccines or variants, nor about church, Christianity or Christmas. It is a bit more personal…

The other day I went for a haircut. I don’t much like going to get my hair cut. It is not the process itself that bothers me, and I tend to appreciate the outcome. But I just wish that they’d get on with the job and not feel the need to engage me in inane conversation! That said, on this occasion the conversation was relaxed, natural and entirely pleasant, all of which was as welcome as it was unusual!

But what I really do not enjoy is having to spend so long with nowhere to look but that mirror in front of me which naturally (and alarmingly!) reflects back my own image. As the years go by this experience becomes increasingly uncomfortable. The decreasing amount of hair on top of my head, along with its greying colour, plus the increasing number of wrinkles (and chins!) reminds me all too clearly that the years are advancing.

I remember some 5 or 6 years ago (I was a mere 60 year old at the time!) when I went for a haircut and was staring into the mirror and found myself wondering why my father was staring back at me! And then when I went to pay, the barber quoted me the pensioner’s rate! I was so taken aback that I did not challenge him and paid him the reduced rate requested and left, feeling rather shell shocked.

Time waits for no man.

It is now over 5 years since I left St Cuthbert’s in Edinburgh where I very happily ministered for some 8 years. I loved my time in Edinburgh for all kinds of reasons and I still enjoy my frequent visits to that wonderful city.

A month or two ago when I was back in the city I noticed that there was an interesting exhibition on in St Cuthbert’s and so I ventured in. There I bumped into one of the members whom I know well. She did not recognise me! When eventually I said who I was, she suggested that perhaps it was my hair that had put her off (getting ever greyer, as I said!). But perhaps it was more than that. It is only a few years, but maybe I have aged more rapidly than the passing years. I think I may well have done so!

Then last week I was again in Edinburgh and bumped into another member of St Cuthbert’s in a shop. I said hello, using his name, and he looked blank. He also failed to recognise me! (Now, I do realise that face coverings don’t help, but…!!). He eventually suggested that it may be because I am wearing different glasses. Hmm… or maybe it is just that I am ageing!

(My apologies to these two people who will likely read this and recognise themselves. You know who you are, but I won’t let on!)

The point I am making is that I am realising that I am getting older, and am beginning to come to terms with that fact. Does it bother me? Yes, a wee bit. Not so much the physical ageing (although the occasionally stiff limbs and aching joints do frustrate me on occasion), but my awareness of a loss of mental sharpness. My ability to think quickly and creatively which I have so valued and appreciated throughout my life and my Ministry is not quite what it once was. This loss is neither too serious nor too worrying, but I am aware of it. I miss that ability! It may be health related, some of it is almost certainly pandemic related, however, I think it is also age related.

But that’s ok. There are many positive aspects to growing older and it does not unduly bother me. But it does take a wee bit of getting used to… and to accept… and then embrace.

But I am on that journey, and looking forward to ‘tomorrow’ more than hankering after ‘yesterday’!

So even to old age and grey hairs,
O God, do not forsake me

(Psalm 71: 18)

 

 

 

All Things Must Pass

 

 ‘Now the darkness only stays at night time
In the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good
At arriving at the right time
But it's not always going
To be this grey
All things must pass’

  George Harrison ‘All Things Must Pass’’

 

‘It’s beginning to feel a lot like…

… lockdown!’.

So posted one of my colleagues on a Ministers’ forum on social media. Sadly, I share that feeling. I do not know what the next couple of weeks will hold and what further restrictions may be placed upon us, but it seems fairly likely that there will be more announcements in days to come and as the Omicron variant multiplies.

Like everyone else, I fervently hope I am wrong and that planned services will still take place and that our family will still be able to gather together after Christmas and – indeed – that a week abroad in the New Year will still be possible. But my doubts and anxieties are growing by the day.

Already, with my congregation, I am beginning to look ahead and see what decisions may have to be taken about the various planned events and activities over the next couple of weeks.

I have mentioned in posts before, the wonderful charity of which I have the honour of being ‘Chaplain’ – SPIFOX (https://www.spifox.co.uk/). Every year (except for last) it holds a Carol Service followed by a lunch for 1400 folks from the Scottish Property Industry raising phenomenal amounts for Scottish Charities supporting children, young people and their families.

Yesterday the decision was taken to cancel the event planned for this coming Wednesday. It is devastating for so many people and in so many ways.

So, now what?

Everyone is so weary and worried about all of this.

After almost two years, so many of us just want to get back to our normal lives and activities without the new constraints placed upon us. From weddings to funerals, from socialising to visiting elderly relatives in care homes, from worshipping and travelling without face coverings to Christmas parties and family gatherings we want to get back to what we know and love and what all helps our lives to be richer.

But we also need to step back a wee bit and get some perspective on this, and that includes addressing big issues of social responsibility, health service provision and funding, caring for others (especially the most vulnerable) the morality (and implications!) of rich nations hoarding vaccines and so on and on.

I would hope that we might emerge from all of this having addressed some bigger questions, although I fear we may not.

But we also need to hang onto the fact that all of this will pass. All things do. It is not easy and we will be carrying the scars and pain of all this for a long time yet. But it will pass.

The infamous influenza pandemic of 1918 (sometimes, but wrongly, called the ‘Spanish Flu Pandemic’) had four distinct ‘waves’ before subsiding almost exactly two years after it was first identified. The COVID pandemic may last a bit longer than that (and some experts are suggesting that it will). But this too will pass. Not that it will go away, but that it will cease to be a pandemic, will cease to be so ‘potent’, will cease to have such an effect on our lives and our society, will cease to determine our activities to the extent that it has.

And Christians believe that all of this will one day pass. That there will be a ‘new heaven and a new earth’ (however we interpret that vision). Darkness, suffering, crying and mourning will be no more. And it is that hope that has helped to sustain me and many others through these days.

All things must pass. All things will pass.

 

 

 

 

Time for a Change?

 

‘And then he'll settle down
In some quiet little town
And forget about everything’

 

Gerry Rafferty ‘Baker Street’ from the album ‘City to City’

 

Advent is (for me at least) a time for reflection. In this season I tend to ponder all kinds of things such as my life patterns, beginnings and endings, my spiritual journey and so on.

As I have recently mentioned in a post on this blog, this year these reflections are even more focussed as I continue to appreciate the joys of being a grandfather and look forward to retiring in the near future. There is indeed a lot to reflect upon, ponder and think about.

As any of you who have read earlier posts will also be aware, I have been thinking a lot about the church in this present time of challenge and crisis as we journey through a period of very considerable readjustment and re-formation.

For most of my Ministry, I have been keen to be involved in the life and work of the wider church through active involvement in many of its committees (however termed). That has often been time-consuming and sometimes challenging and difficult, but it has always been a part of my Ministry from which I derived satisfaction and which I have considered to be part of the fulfilment of my ordination vows.

For a variety of reasons, I have not been much involved or engaged in this way for the last few years. I had previously wondered if I might eventually return to some of this involvement, but the combination of the pandemic, the challenges facing the church, and the need for a very radical re-imaging of church for the future had all led me to decide that, when I retire, I will withdraw from all of that and be happy to offer what I can to the church by way of (for example) preaching, prayerful and pastoral support and so on. But I had decided that I would definitely not wish to, plan to, or seek to be involved in any of the governance or decision making aspects of the church’s life.

Amongst the reasons for coming to this conclusion are that my Ministry and my experience of church were shaped in a time that is now passing and I am not sure I can offer much to the emerging vision of a church for the future. I am yesterday’s person, and I do not say that with regret still less bitterness, but simply as a realistic observation with which I am (or was) quite comfortable. Whatever type of church emerges from the present reshaping and realignment should be determined by those still active in Ministry and who understand the needs and opportunities of contemporary culture and society and as they are led by God’s Spirit.

Added to which I am tired… very tired (I may say more of this in a later post). I need a rest; I need to be physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually refreshed and renewed, and tired old men will not be the answer to the future of the church! I am sure that much of my exhaustion is due to the pandemic, some is due to my health challenges, a great deal is no doubt related to my age but some may also be arising from an unwelcome and unexpected cynicism regarding the church that I have glimpsed within myself and which has surprised me, as I am not usually a cynical person (or – at least – I do not see myself in that way).

But there are also some more carefully considered reasons including the awareness that (as I have previously noted, paraphrasing a friend and colleague, when it comes to the future of the church, I realise that not only do I not have the answers, I no longer even know what questions need to be asked).

And so, I had concluded, the best I can do is gladly embrace retirement, step aside from involvement in the re-shaping of the church, acknowledge that it is for others to step up and get involved, and happily support them as best I can from the side-lines. I will ‘settle down in some quiet little town, and forget about everything’, so to speak.

Except… except… just over the last couple of days I have sensed a wee bit of very unexpected unease regarding this planned course of action. Could I yet have something to offer in terms of the reshaping and re-imaging of the church? Should I seek to still be involved? Might I be able to offer something out of my experience, such insights I might still have, and whatever scraps of wisdom I may have gleaned? After all, I am planning to retire from full-time paid Ministry, I am not seeking to be ‘un-ordained’! So do my ordination vows not still apply?

As things stand at the moment, for all the reasons I have rehearsed, I still am not planning to engage with the governance of the church in retirement, … but I have to acknowledge that there is a persistent wee niggle that will not go away…

 

Still in Denial

 

‘You got a problem you won't admit
You got a habit that you can't kick
You're still in denial’

 Gerry Rafferty ‘Still in Denial’ from the album ‘Rest in Blue’

 

I was more than a little cynical when I heard that a ‘new’ Gerry Rafferty album was being released 10 years after his death. I was expecting a collection of mediocre songs that had not been considered good enough to appear on earlier albums when he was alive. I was very wrong! It is a first class album and I thoroughly recommend it.

In some of the songs, Gerry Rafferty is brutally honest about his own struggles, not least in the first one on the album ‘Still in Denial’.

Advent is a time of preparation and penitence, and that involves self-examination and brutal honesty. Is that not what is required in response to the message of John the Baptist?

I think that applies on more than simply a personal level.

The church needs to face up to reality also. But I fear we may be ‘still in denial’. All the (necessary) reorganisation and rationalisation has not addressed, is not addressing and will not address the fundamental issues. The apparently relentless decline in the church will not be reversed by having bigger Presbyteries and fewer congregations. Even a renewed mission strategy won’t do it.

Just to be clear, I don’t have answers and am not sure what the exact fundamental issues are, although I am pretty sure they are more likely to be spiritual than organisational. As has so often been pointed out, engaging in reorganisation can sometimes be an avoidance strategy; a way of comforting ourselves by ‘doing something’ while we continue to ignore what the real problems are.

As an individual, were I in a situation where I felt unwell, ineffective, spiritually dry, worn out or jaded, I might reorganise my study or even move house, but that would not address the issues. I might not know what was wrong, but rather than try to superficially ‘fix’ something, I would be better consulting a doctor or a counsellor or a spiritual director.

Perhaps the church needs to identify and listen to some prophets, have a season of prayer and fasting, engage in some genuine discernment, or all of these.

But I do fear that we are ‘still in denial’ and that worries me and saddens me.

Confessions of a Would-be Environmental Champion

 

 

‘and when God looked down
on the earth and saw it was broken
then the tears of God fell down
through a hole in the ozone
Burned by the fire we make

what a shame

…poor Mother Earth we disfigured her face
Man is the maker of his own disgrace
Burned by the fire we make
what a shame’

 Adrian Belew ‘Burned by the Fire we Make’

  

I want to be green. I really do! I want to pursue eco-friendly actions and reduce waste and minimise my carbon footprint and so on and on.

 

Before and during the recent COP 26 conference in Glasgow I took the opportunity (as did many other preachers) of making the Christian and Biblical case in a series of sermons on environmentalism in which I emphasised that we each had an individual responsibility.

 

I believe that.

 

In our household we are fairly disciplined about recycling and minimising unnecessary waste. We often discuss how we might more effectively reduce our impact on the environment and we have taken some steps in that direction. If we look at how we used to live and act and compare ourselves with others (not that this is usually such a good thing!) then I reckon we are not doing too badly… in the main.

 

And yet, I am aware that convenience can often win the day when it comes to a choice between using the car and taking public transport. I still have not mustered up the courage (or raised the necessary capital!) to purchase an electric vehicle. We run a gas boiler to heat our home. We are planning our holidays for next year including flights and a cruise… and so on and on.

 

So, what to do?

 

Confessing my failures is not enough. In the words of John the Baptist (whose preaching gets a lot of focus in Sunday Bible Readings in this part of Advent) ‘Bear fruit worthy of repentance’ (which I suppose might be paraphrased ‘show evidence in your lives of having turned around in your thinking and living’).

 

So, I am recognising that my life needs to turn around in this matter of being mindful of and caring for the environment and I need to both acknowledge my responsibility in this and take decisive action to change how I live.

 

But (in some respects at least) it is a bit of a struggle much of the time, I must confess.

Dazed and Confused

 

‘Been dazed and confused for so long, it's not true’

Led Zeppelin ‘Dazed and Confused’

So, anxiety creeps up again as the new ‘omicron’ variant of the virus creates new uncertainties. Like the rest of society (well, most at least) we had to cancel all our plans for last year’s Christmas with regard to being with our family. It was so hard to do that, but we had to. We were told to. We felt it was responsible to do so. So we did. It was sad, disappointing and frustrating, but we had no doubt that we had taken the right decision. It is rather irritating to find out that not all were as responsible, especially the possibility that those in high places while making the rules were not themselves following them!

But now we are looking forward so much to this Christmas-time and being together with our now expanded family! I cannot wait. Except… day by day the little niggling anxiety is there… omicron!

And that is part of the legacy of these last two years… the two steps forward then one step back and then one step forward and two steps back and…

For those of us who worship, we are approaching another Christmas of singing from behind face coverings and so no wonder that many formerly regular worshippers feel disinclined to venture back just yet… if ever!

And that is the pattern of emerging from the worst restrictions; the lockdown, which was so difficult for so many. If, due to the uncertainty and unpredictability and gradual and unsteady progress, the emerging from some restrictions is this worrying, what has been the impact of the lockdown itself? And not simply in the immediate experience, but the longer term implications.

Of course, we know that the lockdown had a huge impact on the educational and social lives of so many children. But will some of these effects be longer lasting than we hope?

We have yet to see what the result so all of this might be. But already there is the evidence of social dislocation, mental illness, emotional cost, relationship breakdown and much more.

I have listened to some folks telling me how they have been since the pandemic first hit, and there are some worrying trends. There are elderly folks for whom what social interaction they had was a lifeline, a point of contact with others and a mental stimulation and more besides. But many now feel disinclined to venture out (for whatever reason) and some are now shrinking into themselves and becoming reclusive. And not only the elderly. Several of my own contemporaries are no longer willing to meet in the contexts that they used to (cafes, pubs, restaurants etc) and some for very good reason… and yet, when does an understandable choice eventually become a social habit?

And, even though I have now begun to venture back into public social spaces, there is an aspect of this that affects me too.

Do I want to resume my old way of life, my former leisure activities, my social connections and so on?

I know from many conversations with ministerial colleagues how utterly stressed some (most?) are, in large part due to the pandemic and its impact. A few (not many from what I can see) have thrived as they rose to the various challenges. But they seem to me to be the minority and many fellow Ministers are only just hanging on, with – I suspect – a tsunami of stress about to crash down upon us. Indeed, it seems to be already occurring.

I know that a similar story might be told by those working in education or health care or social care and so on and on.

For Minsters, however, this has also all come at a time of major change in the shape of the church, in the likely pattern of congregational provision, of future tenure uncertainty and of radically depleted ‘central’ resources.

So no wonder people are not coping. No wonder we are tired. No wonder we feel ‘dazed and confused’.

How do we help each other through this, support each other when we struggle, find the necessary resources for coping and surviving?

I am not sure I know the specific answers. But (for Ministers at least) I do think that even in a time of depleted resources we need more (and not less) investment in pastoral support, spiritual direction and the like. And help too with change management, I would suggest (I do not recall that being a topic in my Ministerial training!).

And for us all, whoever we are and whatever we do, I wonder if part of dealing with this is to acknowledge that our malaise is widely experienced, that it is not unusual or unexpected, that we are all in this together.

For me as a Christian believer, I am also becoming more aware of the need to join with Jesus in finding the time and space to withdraw from the demands and the confusion and be alone with God in a quiet place. Not to think I can do everything or fix everything or understand everything. Not even always to try too hard to pray or meditate, but simply to be quiet in the presence (or perhaps sometimes the apparent absence and distance!) of God.

 

 

Saying Sorry

 

 

‘Oh it seems to me

That sorry seems to be the hardest word’

From  ‘Sorry seems to be the hardest word’ by Elton John

 

I think that my recent reflections on the reform and renewal of the Kirk and my uncertainty about the present state of the church must have been playing on my mind as – the other night – I awoke from an unexpected dream which was located back in the days (almost 20 years ago) when I was heavily involved in discussions about the renewal and rationalisation of the ‘central church’ structures.

These were not easy discussions, and in my dream I was back in a painful meeting (a meeting that I well recall to this day)In this meeting some of what was said was neither fair nor kind. The meeting was a real memory but what happened next was not based in what actually occurred (at least not at the time of that meeting). In my dream, one of the folks attending turned to me and apologised for his words. I knew that I too had not been as measured or as kind as I might have been in what I had said, but – while I was able to graciously accept his apology – in my dream, I was not able to reciprocate and say sorry to him.

That is the point at which I woke up and I pondered it for a while. The context of my dream may have been based in a real event, but the last bit wasn’t. In fact, I suspect it reflected thoughts I have recently been having about how difficult we find it (I find it!) to apologise.

So, is sorry in fact the hardest word?

During this season of Advent the theme of penitence arises as part of our spiritual preparation of the celebration of Christ’s nativity. The call of the prophets and the preaching of John the Baptist both call people to return to God, to repent, to be purified, and so on.

That begins with an acknowledgement of our need to be forgiven… we need to say sorry and accept forgiveness. And, yes, it can sometimes seem hard to say sorry.

But even when we can bring ourselves to acknowledge and accept our need of forgiveness, even if sorry is a hard word, it cannot be the last word.

The call to repent is a call to turn around… to change.

So, on reflection, perhaps sorry is not always the hardest word. Even if we find ourselves able to say sorry, if nothing then changes it could be that sorry is the easiest and even cheapest of words.