Soon, oh soon the light

 

Listen should we fight forever

Knowing as we do know Fear destroys?...

 …The fist will run

 Grasp metal to gun

The spirit sings in crashing tones we gain the battle drum

Our cries will shrill the air will moan and crash into the dawn

The pen won't stay the demon's wings, the hour approaches

Pounding out the Devil's sermon…

 

…Soon oh soon the light

Pass within and soothe this endless night

And wait here for you

Our reason to be here’

 [From ‘The Gates of Delirium’ by Yes, from their 1974 album, ‘Relayer’]

 

Sometimes it hurts.

Sometimes it really hurts.

I feel it like a constant ache inside.

A friend or loved one seems to be struck time after time with some disaster, setback, injustice, or illness. And I feel the pain inside.

I look at a church which, in our nation at least (although not worldwide) is seemingly in unending decline, struggling to know how to respond (and so often making panic decisions that only serve – so it seems to me – to make matters worse). I sometimes despair. And it hurts.

And perhaps it hurts most when I read about the climate crisis, and our apparent inability to take the hard decisions, or to do so sufficiently quickly or fully, or when I think about the horror of the fighting and killing, the misery and suffering in Israel-Palestine, or the ongoing conflict in Ukraine.

Yes, there is a real ache inside.

How long?

How long must all of this go on?

How long until it ends?

How long until God responds to our prayers?

How long until his Kingdom of peace and justice, ruled by love, is finally established?

I genuinely do feel all of this as an inner ache sometimes. And, as well as the pain, I get angry, sometimes so very angry, with God. I am comforted to know that I am not alone in this… and even in the Bible there is anger with God.

Perhaps this ache within is part of why I feel so drawn to this season of Advent, which brings together the mysteries of suffering and hope, of anger and faith, of darkness and light, of God’s here-and-now Kingdom and his not-yet-here Kingdom.

During this Advent time we sing the hymns that express all of this: ‘O come, O come, Emmanuel’, ‘Come, thought long expected Jesus’, and so on.

The progressive rock group, Yes, whom I have often quoted, frequently touch on ‘spiritual’ themes in their work. This past week, something brought to my mind the piece which I have quoted above; ‘The Gates of Delirium’. It is a 22 minute long song (or, perhaps better, a suite) that is inspired by ‘War and Peace’.

The opening sections are a frantic and confused depiction of war. Then, towards the end, the clamour and chaos give way to a gentle, hopeful, yearning section… almost like a prayer; ‘Soon oh soon the light, Pass within and soothe this endless night, And wait here for you, Our reason to be here’.

I almost want to say ‘Amen’.

Yes, I believe that the day will come; the Day of the Lord. I have a firm hope in God’s promises, and that his Kingdom of justice and peace will one day be established. ‘Thy Kingdom Come’.

But I pray that it will be soon, that the light will dispel the dreadful darkness, that God’s will and way will finally prevail.

And, until then, I guess I will continue to live with this ache within.

‘O come, O come, Emmanuel’.

December Snow

 

‘Like December snow, that lays in the wood

You're gone too soon...life can be like December snow’

‘December Snow’ by the Moody Blues

 

Well, here we are, and another Advent dawns; the start of the new Christian Year, and the beginning of our movement towards Christmas.

And yesterday the snow came.

Where we live, it came in abundance!

As I began to write this, the car is still to be dug out of the driveway.

My family know all too well that I have a very ambivalent feeling about snow. Actually, to be completely honest, they think that I have a completely negative view of snow! But, that is not actually true. If I have nowhere to go and nothing to do, there is nothing I love more than watching from my cosy sitting room as the snow falls. I have even been known to enjoy venturing out into the snow on foot (suitable clad, of course) and trudging through the deep drifts or throwing snowballs.

The problem is that mostly I have (or – at least – have had in the past) places to go, people to see, things to do, and so on. In such circumstances, snow is completely disruptive, dangerous, unnerving and unwelcome. As you may, by now, have gathered, I am not ‘Dreaming of a White Christmas’!

The Moody Blues song (quoted above) suggests that December snow can be gone too soon. But, in my view, too often it is not gone soon enough!

But, it depends on so much. It depends on perspective and circumstance.

My wife, Jane, loves the snow. Her spirits lift when the snow falls. A few years back, when it snowed and everything around looked lovely, she posted on Facebook, ‘I love when the snow falls, does that make me a bad person?’. Of the replies to her post, exactly 21 people said ‘Yes’ and exactly 21 said ‘No’!

I guess the truth is that there are two sides to the snow. It can indeed be beautiful, evocative, and ‘magical’. It can also be disruptive, disabling, and even dangerous.

And it seems to me that there are also two sides to this Advent Season. Of course, it is when we begin to look ahead to Christmas and anticipate the celebration of Jesus birth. But it is also a season of waiting and of ‘not yet’. Hope on the one hand, and delay on the other. The joy and peace is tempered by the awareness that the coming of God’s Kingdom in all its fulness is not yet. We sing of peace but we still are so acutely aware of so much conflict in our world (even, at this time, in that very land in which our Saviour was born). We talk of joy, but we know that there are many who are so weighed down with despair, anxiety, dread, illness or loss.

God’s Kingdom is not yet here.

Advent has (as it were) a ‘dark side’, which is why traditionally such things as death, judgement heaven, and hell are themes for this season. Doesn’t sound very Christmassy, does it? But that is one of the reasons I would like the church to be more focussed than it often seems to be, on holding off on the Christmas Carols etc during this season. By all means, once Christmas comes, let us sing them with joy and delight, and continue to do so for the 12 days of Christmas that begin on 25^th December.

But there is a place for acknowledging the dark realities of our world and our lives, and for affirming that God’s Kingdom that has come, and keeps coming, is nonetheless still to come in fulness.

This does not mean that we fail to anticipate Christmas, still less refuse to share in the joy and celebration that is around. But, just like snow, there is another side to it.

And, I suppose, this is why in this season, I tend – both in my own devotions and in public worship – to focus on the three themes of hope, waiting, and patience.

Bruised and Broken (but Honest and Hopeful!)

 

‘One thing you can’t hide, is when you’re crippled inside’

John Lennon ‘Crippled Inside’ on the ‘Imagine' album (1971)

 

Not that I actually feel ‘crippled inside’. Not really.

But, I am aware of the bruises and brokenness we all bear. I have never shied away from acknowledging that in myself, nor in being open about it.

It is only as I have grown older that I have increasingly realised that the ‘normal’ thing seems to be to live in denial, to pretend that all is well, to ignore the ‘broken bits’ and certainly never to admit to them!

Whoops! I have got all that spectacularly wrong then. Or not!

In fact, I really do not believe that denial and pretence are healthy. Quite the opposite. So, I am not at all sorry to have been so aware of my inner failings, nor to have been open about them (as and when appropriate).

A conversation a few days ago with a family member, confirmed to me that openness can be a very positive thing, not just for the one sharing, but for the other who listens.

And a much valued chat with a friend the other day, in which we were open about some of our struggles etc, was so helpful for me (and, I think and hope, for him too) that I was once again reminded of the power of honesty and openness.

Don’t get me wrong. I think that there can be inappropriate ‘sharing’ and I do not think for one moment that we should be profligate in our exposing of our weaknesses to others. But in the right place, with the right person, at the right time, and when it is both safe and appropriate, then sharing in this way can be so beneficial and therapeutic.

I think I always believed that; it is only more recently that I realised that this is not ‘normal’!

I am so glad to know that some of my friends and some of my family members find that it has been such a positive experience for them too.

And, truth be told, I cannot quite divorce this from my understanding of what Christian fellowship can mean, or from the words of Jesus who said ‘you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free’. What if that means more than the truth about God, but also means the truth about ourselves? And what if we cannot really know the truth about ourselves until we share it?

That has certainly been my experience.

I have never found the reaction of the ostrich a very helpful guide to healthy living!

The State of the World

 

‘Confusion will be my epitaph,

as I crawl a cracked and broken path;

if we make it, we can all sit back and laugh,

but I fear tomorrow I’ll be crying…’

[From ‘Epitaph’ by King Crimson on their 1969 album ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’]

  

Back in the day, songs such as the King Crimson one I have just quoted, were rather sneeringly dismissed as ‘Doom Rock’! Well, I can now see why. As well as being somewhat portentous, it is also more than a little pretentious!

But it reflected the mood of the time, when the Vietnam War was still raging, tensions and violence dominated the Middle East (and especially in Israel-Palestine) and when we lived with the constant threat of nuclear annihilation.

But much of that changed… and yet now seems to have returned.

I am old enough to remember what it felt like to live in the 60s, 70s and 80s, and the relief and hope that followed these tense decades, once the Vietnam War ended, the Middle East situation settled into an (albeit uneasy and unjust) co-existence, the Berlin Wall fell, the Soviet Union disintegrated, Nelson Mandela was released, a new South Africa emerged, and the nuclear threat seemed to recede.

And now, it feels very much more like it was back in the 60s, 70s and 80s with regard to he present geo-political situation. But perhaps it is even worse in some respects. We have even deeper political and cultural divisions in our Western nations than I seem to recall from 50 or so years ago. And, more alarmingly still, we are now facing the crisis of climate change and global warming.

And all of this simply by way of observation. It does very much concern me. But I can come up with neither easy answers nor short-term prophecies.

My faith assures me of ultimate hope, and I continue in that hope as I also pray. But while that may assure me of a final destination, and that there is One who will – in the end – bring about a ‘new heaven and a new earth’ (however we understand that), it does not describe the immediate path ahead as we travel onwards, nor of how things will go in this world in the years to come.

I am reminded of the words of Jesus ‘ You will hear of wars and rumours of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.  Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places.  All these are the beginning of birth pains.’ (Matthew 24: 6-8)

 

A Tale of Two Cities

 

When you're alone and life is making you lonely
You can always go downtown
When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry
Seems to help, I know, downtown

Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city
Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty
How can you lose?
The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares

So go downtown
Things will be great when you're downtown
No finer place for sure, downtown
Everything's waiting for you.

‘Downtown’ [1964 song sung by Petula Clark and written by Tony Hatch]

 

For most of my life, I have lived in cities (but, for around 28 years I have not. And sorry, Perth, but while I enjoyed living in that ‘titular’ city, I am really meaning proper, big, noisy, cities!). I do not currently live in a city, and I suspect I probably won’t ever do so again in my life.

But, I do live less than a 15 minute train ride from one big city, and less than 30 minutes by train from another.

I love cities. My whole being comes alive when I go to a city. I also love sea, hills, countryside, mountains etc. As a keen fisherman (and, in years past, a dedicated hillwalker and Munro Bagger) I fully appreciate the delights of the outdoors, and the open spaces, and the beauty of the natural world. That’s how I spend days off and holidays.

But, it is in the city where I feel at home, where I know I belong, and where I fully come alive.

I do realise that not everyone feels this way. Indeed. I know that many people struggle to even understand my outlook on this (including people with whom I live!).

But there it is.

That is how I feel. This is my experience.

But, there is a bit more to it; for my feelings have evolved over the years.

Not that I ever imagined that I was not a city person. I think I always knew that. But, having been born, raised, and educated in Glasgow (where I also served in my first charge as a Minister) I imagined that my love was for Glasgow specifically, and not so much for cities generally. And I was rather partisan when it came to any suggestion of a rivalry between Glasgow and Edinburgh. There was no competition. Glasgow’s miles better! (Or so I then considered).

Moving out of the big city, first to Fife, and then to Perth, I still hankered after city life, and Glasgow life in particular. And yet, to be honest, my increasingly frequent travel to Edinburgh on church business was beginning to have an effect. Perhaps Edinburgh was not so bad after all.

When we eventually moved to Edinburgh, and I was privileged to serve there in a  city centre congregation, I quickly fell completely in love with that city. I loved Edinburgh and I love it still.

I confess that, in my heart, Edinburgh took that place which had thus far been kept for Glasgow.

And so it was, when the time came to leave our national capital, I suffered what I can only describe as bereavement – a deep bereavement. Any excuse or opportunity to return to Edinburgh, I jumped at; and given that we still owned a flat in the city, I could visit whenever I was free, and stay over. Wonderful! My spirits perceptibly lifted wherever I was back in that city.

And then we sold that flat. And again, I suffered a bereavement.

At that point, I thought my sense of loss was related to Edinburgh. But not so.

For in this last wee while, I have been spending more and more time back in Glasgow (not least because it is closer). I have been rediscovering my love of that city and re-engaging with its life, and peculiarities, and attractions.

And, do you know what?

I love Glasgow too.

I love both Glasgow and Edinburgh.

Now, they are very different cities and both have their positive aspects and both have their negatives. But each is attractive to me, and when I visit either, I still feel my spirits lift and my energy rising.

I belong in cities.

And, while I do not actually live in one (and am unlikely ever to do so again) the fact that I am close to both of these marvellous cities means that I can be in either as often as I wish, and consider myself a citizen of both.

And I do!

Looking Deeper

 

 

 

‘Searching for me
You look everywhere
Except beside you
Searching for you
You look everywhere
But not inside you’

 From the song ‘Peace’ by King Crimson

What do we see?

When we look at someone what do we see?

What are we looking for?

What are we looking at?

What are we expecting?

What are we discerning?

A few years ago I reconnected with a group of old schoolfriends whom I had not seen for over 40 years. We now all meet regularly, and I thoroughly enjoy our get togethers.

The first time I met with the group, one of my former friends (one with whom I had been especially friendly back in the day) was asking about me and I mentioned that I had Multiple Sclerosis. He looked somewhat taken aback and blurted out ‘But, David, you look so well!’. That is not an uncommon response, although in this case, my friend being a GP might have led me to expect a somewhat more nuanced reaction!

Other than when I have a relapse (which, thankfully, are rare, and usually mild) few would notice that I have MS. But that’s because people do not see the hidden issues, which are more often experienced,  and which are many and can prove restrictive and place constraints on aspects of normal living.

Even when people know and are aware, they quickly forget or are surprised when I indicate that I am finding things difficult.

That’s all fine, and I am used to that, and used to having to explain things when (for example) I have to call off at the last minute because I am fatigued, or have to dash to the loo because of urgency, or when I have to take a rest, or find a seat etc. But you cannot always explain to strangers on (for example) a crowded bus or train when you remain seated while elderly people or pregnant women are kept standing . (Usually, I do get up and give those in need a seat; most days, I can cope with standing, but on occasion it would not be possible, and that is embarrassing).

You do not usually have the opportunity to explain to those who are looking at you somewhat sceptically and suspiciously, why you are sprinting (surely disabled people can’t do that?) to a disabled toilet…

…or why you have suddenly stopped conversing because brain fog has descended and you can’t find the words…

…or why you have to leave the party very early…

…and so on…

In my family, I am not alone in having ‘hidden’ conditions. The others who have (different and unrelated) challenges in this regard would also ‘look’ fine and appear to be ‘fully functioning’ on first meeting or in a general conversation.

But, as one who sees them close up, and knows them very well, their ‘disabilities’ are very real, and the restrictions on normal living are considerable.

People do not usually see that, and even those who are close to us, I think struggle to fully understand.

That is not surprising, when there are few visible signs.

But it does all make me wish that we could all find a way of ‘looking deeper’ and seeing those things that are not, in fact, entirely invisible, if only we had the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the will to understand and accept.

Speaking for myself, when those close to me do understand, when friends check out how I am, when people make the effort to try and accommodate my occasional limitations, I find that very supportive and encouraging, and I appreciate it very much.

Looking deeper can be a way of loving better.

Game, Set, and Match

 

 

‘All things must pass
All things must pass away’

From the 1970 song ‘All Things Must Pass’ by George Harrison.

 

  

Well, what a Men’s Final that was at Wimbledon on Sunday!

As several have said on TV, radio, and in the newspapers, it seems to herald a ‘changing of the guard’. A new generation of players, spear-headed by (but not confined to) Carlos Alcaraz, is moving in on the territory which has for so many years been dominated by Djokovic (whom Alcaraz beat), Federer (who has now retired), Nadal (who was absent from Wimbledon because of injury), and Murray (who watched the match from amongst the crowd, having been knocked out in an earlier round).

The times, they are a-changing!

As I watched the match and especially when I reflected on its outcome, I thought back a couple of months to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland which was held in May, and which I attended as a Commissioner.

When I retired last year, I kept saying that I would also step back from all active involvement in the governance of the church. My reasons for so doing felt right, and I thought I was at ease with that resolution.

Except, when I was asked to consider being a Commissioner at this year’s Assembly, I said ‘yes’.

Why?

Nostalgia? Denial? Pride?

I’m not very sure.

But I do know that I have always been one of these strange Ministers who really enjoyed being part of the General Assembly, wanted to play my part in the governance of the Church, was eager to be involved, and so on. And, over the years, I have been privileged to have been able to have the opportunities that I have had to engage in these ways. It was not always easy, but it was generally very fulfilling and energising.

But, I will not go to the Assembly again.

To be honest, I had a niggling sense of unease in the weeks leading up to the opening of the Assembly. And when I was there, although I enjoyed my time, met up with folks I hadn‘t seen for a while, and even spoke in a debate (not an unusual occurrence for me, I’m afraid!), I won’t go back.

Times have moved on; the way of doing things has developed; there has been a changing of the guard; the folk whom I was used to seeing in key roles were conspicuous by their absence, while newer (younger) people were in key positions.

It felt odd.

Of course, things inevitably change, and people move on, and new folks take up roles. That is as it should be (and – for the record – I have all respect for those now serving in key positions, although perhaps less respect for some of the ways in which we now do things!)

But, along with all of that, I need to let go, I need to recognise that in this new season of life, I can best serve the church in other ways.

Game, set, and match!

And perhaps it is not just in terms of the General Assembly or the governance of the church that I need to continue to work at embracing this new season of my life, and working out just what it means for me.

All things must pass.

 

 

 

It's the Thought That Counts

 

 

‘I just called, to say ‘I love you’;

I just called to say how much I care…’

From the 1984 song ‘I just called to say I love you’ by Stevie Wonder.

 

 

 I have had an emotional day.

Perhaps that is why I am feeling so tired now!

I have been clearing out various boxes and files from the attic. To be honest, most of these are things that ought to have been sorted out (and, mainly, disposed of) many years ago.

However, as I have been sorting through these various papers, letters, cards, and notes, I have re-read many, and elected to retain some.

And, as I have read some cards and letters from many years ago – received in a time of illness or bereavement, or when I was ordained to Ministry , or inducted into one of the congregations I served, or as I left one of these congregations, and so on – I have been deeply moved; sometimes to tears.

I had not expected that!

Some of these cards would take but a moment to write and send. Some of the letters may have taken a little longer, but still not a very long time. I suspect that those who wrote them will have long since forgotten doing so (that is, those who are still alive). But what enormous encouragement, comfort, hope, etc they brought to me at the time and of which I was reminded as I read them again today.

The sender will not have thought much about it after sending it, I suppose. But here I am, years later, feeling hugely comforted and encouraged by them (not to say, rather emotional!).

Although phone calls cannot be filed and re-visited, I know that these can also be appreciated and treasured by recipients. When I get a call (or, nowadays, a message on WhatsApp or Messenger etc) which comes out of the blue, and is for no particular purpose other than simply to make contact, say ‘hi’, suggest meeting up, etc) then I feel lifted in my spirits.

It takes so little, but means so much.

Alas, I fail miserably at phoning others as much as I should or could. But, I do try from time to time. And I think folks do appreciate it. However, I am better at writing cards, notes, or letters.

Many years ago when I was first in Ministry (or was it when I was training?) I had a conversation with a more senior colleague (with whom I still have contact from time to time). I think I must have said something affirming or encouraging in passing (I cannot now recall). But what I do recall is receiving from him, a few days later, a postcard (handwritten of course) on which he had put down a few words of appreciation.

Over the years I have received many more such cards from him, and from the day of the first, unexpected postcard, I resolved to write short cards or letters or notes of appreciation to others, rather than let their comments, affirmation, or actions go unacknowledged.

Depending on who it is, I may sometimes do that nowadays by electronic means. But more often I will choose to handwrite a card. I think that the effort to do so says something in itself.

And so, throughout my Ministry, I have written hundreds of cards to members, parishioners, guest preachers, the bereaved, the sick and so on and on. I cannot remember the vast majority of these notes, cards, or letters. But, if my experience today of reading so many that I once received is anything to go by, then I suspect that these messages I have sent over these past 45 years have brought hope, encouragement, or comfort to others.

And that is good to know.

And my occasional (but too infrequent) phone calls or messages may have done the same for some.

It doesn’t take much, but what a difference it makes.

 

A Splash of Colour (In defence of ties)

 

‘One week he's in polka-dots, the next week he is in stripes
'Cause he's a dedicated follower of fashion.’

From the 1966 song ‘Dedicated Follower of Fashion’ by the Kinks.

 

I have just bought myself a ‘smartwatch’. I am wondering why! Perhaps I will get used to it, but I am seriously wondering about looking out my pocket watch and chain and using that instead!

I was at a meeting other other day and became aware that I was the only person with a print out of the report, a pen, and a pad of paper. Everyone else was using their tablet or phone. This allowed someone to have a little joke at my expense.

So, I realise that I am somewhat outdated and behind the times.

That is how it is, and I can’t complain, really. I just have to accept it. Except, there is one change with which I really do struggle.

When I am relaxing in my own home, or going out for a wee wander, or popping out to the shops I do tend to be a little shabby and sloppy in my dressing. But, on special occasions I like to dress ‘properly’. And, I wish we still had to dress up for certain occasions. Yet that is becoming rarer and rarer. No longer are jacket and tie a requirement in posh restaurants; nor, it would seem, even at weddings! I miss that.

I notice that TV presenters and politicians are also losing the tie. Why?

The odd thing is that the loss of the tie has made things much more boring. How often I see a senior politician with an open neck shirt (usually white) with a suit (often grey) and no tie… so no colour.

How boring! How lifeless!

So, I wish to make a plea in defence of the tie.

Ties bring colour, they express our personalities, they add something to our appearance.

Let’s not let the tie go!

 

 

When I was younger, so much younger than today

 

‘When I was younger, so much younger than today,

I never needed anybody’s help in any way.

But now these days are gone, I’m not so self-assured.

Now I find I need you like I’ve never done before.’

From the song ‘Help’ by the Beatles

 

I have lots of ideas for posts on my blog. Some of these are about quite weighty matters of life, faith, the world, and so on. But I find that I just have not mustered up the energy and enthusiasm to write on these matters as yet. Nor have I found the time. Now, how ridiculous is that? Here I am a retired man, and yet I cannot find the time!

Of course, I know that every retired person to whom you have ever spoken will come out with the same observation when asked about retired life. Something about being busier than ever, or wondering how they found the time to work, and so on.

But it is true!

In part, I think it is because we have stored up so many hopes and projects for when we retire that the list can seem endless, daunting and almost impossible to tackle.

Another possibility is that those of us who are grandparents find that a large part of our time is taken up with our grandchildren (no complaints about that!).

However, I also think that it is because the pace at which we live life has slowed down a bit as we are now that bit older. This is no bad thing. In fact, it may be necessary as we do not have the energy that once we did. And perhaps, for some of us at least, we do not have the fitness either.

I can recall that when I was in my thirties and forties I would often get up early and manage to do a couple of hours of work at my desk before getting on with whatever else the day held: school visits, hospital visits, meetings (some in Edinburgh), and much more. In the evening it was normal to have a meeting of some sort. Once back home I might then spend a couple of hours on a hobby, or else be back at the desk, or whatever, and rarely be in bed before midnight, then up again at 6am the next day to go through all that again.

There is not a chance that I could do a quarter of that now! I just do not have the ability or the energy.

Come 10pm, I am ready for bed (sometimes I feel like going earlier than that). And when I do waken up in the morning, I am nowadays a bit stiff and sore, and it takes me while to get going, both physically and mentally. The reduction in evening meetings since retirement has not freed up time for indulging in hobbies as I had imagined. Once we have had our evening meal, I find I just want to sit and read, or listen to music, or do the crossword in the newspaper (yes, I still buy a physical newspaper!), or watch a film.

But…

…it would be too easy to complain and resent this, or – on the other hand – resign myself to it. I am attempting another path; that of accepting the limitations that I will increasingly face in coming years (unavoidable and inevitable) while not simply giving in to it. There is a time for acknowledging and accepting whatever limitations we may face, and a time for making a wee bit of an effort in order to fulfil one’s aspirations, indulge one’s hobbies, or complete one’s projects. Yes, I will need to be realistic and not idealistic. But I will also need to be focussed and determined.

However, in the meantime, what fun it is to be able to just sit and read, or listen to music, or to look forward to seeing the grandchildren. (And this means I can sometimes enjoy being a child once again !)

And I am not missing the evening meetings. Not one little bit!

I am increasingly feeling that this time is a real gift of God. I have been ‘led’ to this. The Lord who is my Shepherd has led me to many places,  through many ways, and on many paths (and some valleys of deepest darkness too). Now, in this season I feel as if I have been led to quiet waters for my refreshment and to green pastures where I can rest.

 

Seasons and Chapters

 

‘Spring, and the air's turning mild
City lights, and the glimpse of a child
Of the alleyway infantry’

From the song ‘Exiles’ by King Crimson

 

 

Well, it is certainly Spring, but I am not so sure that the air’s turning mild in spite of the lyrics of the King Crimson song (above)! On the contrary, it is very cold this morning and there was a dusting of snow when I ventured out first thing today.

But it is not so much the changing of the seasons of the year that is in my mind right now, as the changing seasons of my life and the turning of chapters.

Indeed, I am full of rather mixed emotions having finally sold our Edinburgh flat. That’s it. All done and dusted, the sale complete, the keys handed over, and the money in the bank…

…and that is all a great relief. There were a few hiccups on the way, so it is a real weight off the mind to get that all completed.

But I also have a deep feeling of loss alongside that feeling of relief. My last physical connection with Edinburgh has now gone. I will miss it, very much.

The other day when I was walking around the city centre, in between appointments, and in advance of finally handing over the keys, I felt such joy in being amongst the buzz, activity, and life of the city, and such a sense of sadness that my connections were being severed.

I so enjoy the ‘city lights’, and the streets and closes (‘alleyways’) of Edinburgh. But then, having not really lived in Edinburgh for these last seven years (apart from occasional overnights in the flat) I am  now wondering if it is Edinburgh that I am missing so much as simply ‘city life’.

As I sit writing this in a café in Glasgow city centre sipping on a latte, and watching city life go by beyond the window, I am thinking that it is the ‘life of the city’ rather than a specific city that I crave, and am missing.

But, neither Glasgow nor Edinburgh are far away, and here I am today enjoying city life even if I no longer live in the city.

Life is in a new and different season and my city living days are behind me. One chapter closes and another has opened.

There is nothing to be gained by living in the past, and much to be gained by embracing the new season and entering fully into the new chapter.

Robert Burns and more Musings on Life and Death

 

 

‘Our monarch's hindmost year but ane

Was five-and-twenty days begun,

'Twas then a blast o' Janwar' win'

Blew hansel in on Robin.’

 

From the song by Robert Burns ‘Rantin’ Rovin’ Robin’ (to the tune ‘Dainty Davie’)

 

 It was the 25^th of January a couple of days ago, and so it was Burns’ Night. I must say I have mixed feelings about Burns’ Suppers (and not simply because I really intensely dislike haggis and neeps!). While I have been to some excellent ones, I have also been to some utterly dreadful evenings. And I hate it when the songs being sung are sung to ghastly tunes of little musical worth rather than the tunes suggested by Burns, and which were often old tunes which he was seeking to preserve. (And the one I have quoted above is one such! ‘Dainty Davie’ is the intended and proper tune, unlike the dreadful, but more popular tune to which it is – sadly – more usually sung).

However, I do very much appreciate much of the poetry of Burns, and the insight and wisdom that some of it contains.

When I was first ordained as a Minister, and inducted into my first charge in the east end of Glasgow in the early 1980’s, one of the members of that congregation was terminally ill. I used to visit Dod, sitting in the dense fug of cigarette smoke as he sipped at his dram, and always by his chair a book; the Poems and Songs of Robert Burns.

Dod would talk about Burns, sometimes quoting from memory and at other times turning to a page and reading.

I was already familiar with some of the poetry and songs of Robert Burns, but as I sat through these months and listened to Dod reciting, my appreciation grew.

In due course, and after a somewhat difficult struggle, Dod died. When I spoke to his daughter in preparation for the funeral service, she passed the book of Burns poetry to me, saying; ‘My dad wanted you to have this’.

I was both moved and grateful.

On returning home and looking more closely I realised that his bookmark was still in the book; the familiar bookmark which I had seen over the months marking the poem which he had just read or which he intended to read to me. I opened at the place and read:

 

‘O Death! The poor man’s dearest friend,
The kindest and the best!
Welcome the hour my agéd limbs
Are laid with thee at rest!
The great, the wealthy fear thy blow,
From pomp and pleasure torn;
But oh! A blest relief to those
That weary-laden mourn’[i]

As I was saying in my previous post on this blog, I have been pondering life and death a bit lately, not least because of recent losses of friends. Of course, as a Minister I have, over the years, very often sat, and watched, and prayed with, and ministered to those who are dying.

And I know that there are times when those facing death feel ready to go, and ‘welcome the hour my aged limbs are laid with thee at rest!’ (not that it is always or only those who have attained old age who welcome death as ‘the kindest and the best’.)

We often talk of living to a ‘ripe old age’. And who wouldn’t value that… unless, of course, we are seriously ill, our life is severely compromised, or the quality of our living is extremely limited.

As someone once said, ‘Living beyond your time is sometimes worse that dying before it’.

And as I said in my last post, the significance, worth, and influence of a life are not to be measured simply in terms of the number of years which that life lasts.

So, perhaps sometimes death is a ‘dear friend’.

 

‘The great, the wealthy fear thy blow,
From pomp and pleasure torn;
But oh! A blest relief to those
That weary-laden mourn’

Now, I am not for one minute suggesting that we don’t all seek to have a full and fulfilling life well into old age. Of course we do! And, for the record, I do rather think that Burns is somewhat overstating the case (poetic licence?). It is good that we can seek (and when the end comes, celebrate) a long life, well lived. And no-one in their right minds would doubt the pain of loss felt by loved ones when someone dear to us dies, and especially if that death is ‘untimely’.

But there are also situations (sometimes occasioned by age, and sometimes by disease) when death may be (in Burns’ words) a ‘friend’ and a ‘blest relief’.

In all of these musings and ponderings,  I am not necessarily coming to very many conclusions; just wondering and thinking and reflecting….

 

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[i] From the poem ‘Man was Made to Mourn’

Life, Death, and Loss

 

‘Yet now I see I'm all alone
But that's the only way to be
You'll have your chance again
Then you can do the work for me

 Meet on the ledge, we're gonna meet on the ledge

When my time is up I'm gonna see all my friends
Meet on the ledge, we're gonna meet on the ledge
If you really mean it, it all comes round again’

 From the 1968 single ‘Meet on the Ledge’ by Fairport Convention

 

In my head for the last week or two have been several possible posts about weighty matters of faith, doubt, church, mission, the world and much more.

But really over these last few days my mind and heart have been taken up with issues of life, death, and loss. In part this has reflected some of what I have been watching on TV / Netflix / DVD (yes, I still have DVDs!).

I watched the new version of  ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’. What a great film, but unrelentingly bleak. The futility of war and the waste of life.

We also watched the two part TV programme ‘Mayflies’ (with Martin Compston, amongst others). Well worth a watch, although it will raise all sorts of questions, while also dealing with issues of friendship, death, and loss.

I recently purchased the bluray/DVD documentary featuring my favourite rock band, King Crimson, ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’. One of the most striking things about this documentary is the interviews with two members of the band who have died since the documentary was recorded. In the case of one of them, it was not known to the documentary maker that this member was dying (but once you know, it is pretty clear). However, in the case of the other, who had stage 4 cancer, but kept on playing with the band to the very end, it is openly discussed and it is a recurring theme throughout the documentary.

Now, all that in itself would give me cause for reflection and much thought.

But, much more significantly, in these last few days, we have also lost two friends to cancer. Not surprisingly, alongside the sense of loss, there has been a bit more pondering of matters related to life, death, and loss.

In the face of an untimely death, we naturally feel particularly ‘robbed’. But, it has been occurring to me that the significance, worth, and influence of a life are not to be measured simply in terms of the number of years that life lasts. And when I think of my recently departed friends, I know I have so much to treasure and what a lot they gave and how much I have to cherish. And if that is true for me, how very much more for their loved ones.

And both of my friends were people of faith who knew and trusted that death was not the last word.

All of that said, the reality and pain of loss remains very sore. I feel it just now.

Goodbye, my friends. See you on the other side.

Focus, Fulfilment, Freedom, and Fun

 

‘Now be thankful for good things below
Now be thankful to your maker’

From the 1970 single ‘Now be thankful’ by Fairport Convention

 

Focus, Fulfilment, Freedom, and Fun.

 

I think that this is what I am looking for and beginning to experience in this new season of my life that is called ‘retirement’.

 

I know that I have reflected on all of this in months past. I initially felt somewhat ‘dislocated’ (as I described it) when I first retired.

 

Then there was the puzzling over what it meant to be retired from my full-time employment as a Minister of the Church while still remaining an ordained Minister who is called to serve.

 

I am still in the process of thinking all of this through, but – as I begin to disengage from those rather stressful aspects of work that have somehow continued even beyond retirement, I have also been afforded the opportunities to continue doing those things that I find fulfilling and have been given additional openings to develop some new roles which allow me to share some of my experience.

 

In brief, I am finding my new found ‘mentoring’ roles very fulfilling, and I continue to find a great deal of satisfaction in leading worship and preaching.

 

So, I guess that this sense of fulfilment is due to the fact that I can focus on these roles without the distraction of some of those aspects of Ministry which I tended to find draining or stressful.

 

And that brings me to ‘freedom’; I am now free to step aside from the draining and stressful aspects of Ministry that being in a full-time paid role required me to do, and focus on the fulfilling and satisfying things, because I now have the freedom to do so. Indeed, I have the freedom now to also indulge hobbies and pastimes and even be a grandparent!

 

And all of that feels rather like fun!

 

And that’s another thing. I am discovering that having fun is… well… fun! And it is ok too. And it is ok to have fun serving God and people.

 

Now, as I said in another recent post, I recognise that I have not always been good at letting people know when I am having fun, nor at expressing the positives nor at sharing gratitude.

 

But, I am learning. So, I am thankful for freedom, focus, fulfilment and – yes – fun!

Pleasures of a Lifetime

 

‘How nice it is to have had had the pleasures of a lifetime’

From ‘Pleasures of a Lifetime’ by Circus from the 1969 album ‘Circus’[1]

 

Now, after my intense series of posts on my blog during Advent, I tend to ease off for a while… often several months. But this year there have been lots of things going around in my mind and so, I am likely to post a wee bit over coming days and weeks.

In the case of this post, let me hurriedly explain (and reassure!) that it is not intended to be maudlin still less morose! I am not looking back over life sensing that it is drawing to a close or any such thing. Not that I can avoid the reality that I am getting older. But I am hoping and expecting to go on for a while yet!

However, now that I am a grandparent and now that I am retired, I have been reflecting on life a bit over recent months.

This has not been a case of counting regrets or cataloguing failures, but more a case of recalling the good things, the satisfactions, the blessings; the ‘pleasures of a lifetime’.

As I look back, I am amazed at the experiences I have had, the places I have been, the things I have done, the opportunities I have been offered, the people I have met, the immense privileges of a life of ministry in the church, the blessings God has poured out and so on. What a lot for which to be deeply grateful!

And perhaps the greatest of these is family and faith.

I am not unaware that there have been mistakes and struggles. Too many by far! But the joys and pleasures outweigh these; greatly so.

I am aware that I have a reputation (especially in my family) for being grumpy. Personally, I think this is unjustified. As I constantly complain, I get a bad press (and there may be more of this in a future post). But I do have to admit that I do not always express the (many) positive things I feel, and I do tend to more often voice my frustrations and struggles.

This is not a good thing.

So, let me make it very clear; I look back at it all with an immense sense of pleasure, satisfaction, and gratitude.   

You have turned my mourning into dancing;
   you have taken off my sackcloth
   and clothed me with joy,
so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.
   O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you for ever.

[Psalm 30: 11-12]

 

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[1] Not a great lyric, but a pleasant song! You can find it on Spotify. This song is on my Spotify playlist ‘In my Life’ https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7bNZWCybpNuCWIjiLKRfn0?si=fa61e7bbd2e44408 These are songs that have an emotional resonance for me. The band ‘Circus’ included Mel Collins on flute and saxes, who went on to join King Crimson and to be a much sought after session musician playing for the likes of the Rolling Stones and Gerry Rafferty.