Strange Days Indeed

 

‘Nobody told me there'd be days like these
Strange days indeed – most peculiar, mama’
from ‘Nobody Told Me’ by John Lennon, released posthumously (1984)

‘The wall on which the prophets wrote
is cracking at the seams.
Upon the instruments of death
the sunlight brightly gleams…
…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, from the album ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’ (1969)

I am disturbed by the way things are going in the world right now. I know I am not alone. I watched and listened to a sermon preached a couple of Sundays ago by Revd Nadia Bolz-Weber which referenced the disturbing times in which we are living, in which she also reminded her hearers that God is still on the throne. And I found that encouraging and reassuring; a welcome reminder.

But still I am disturbed. 

In fact, I must confess I am possibly more anxious about world events at the moment than I can recall ever being in my adult life, even having lived through the tensions at the height of the Cold War. And so, I am – along with many others – more than a little disturbed by current events and some of the developments we are witnessing in our world right now.

However, one of the most disturbing things is that people in general, and folks in my several circles in particular, seem disturbed by different things – even polar opposite things. Within my family and amongst my friends, I am increasingly finding that I have to carefully navigate conversations and avoid certain topics (a growing number, if truth be told) in order to avoid tensions and potential conflict. It is very disconcerting and more than a little uncomfortable. It is also very confusing and… yes, disturbing. 

While this polarisation is most evident on social media, it is not confined to there. 

And where I find it most confusing and disturbing is among my fellow Christians. There is what feels to me a concerning trend in some strands of Western Christianity in which some Christians have thrown their lot in with certain social and political trends that I find difficult to reconcile with the person and teachings of Jesus. Of course, I need to keep trying to openly and honestly reflect on that, and pray about it. Could I be wrong? Might I yet come to agree with these Christian sisters and brothers? 

I do try to be open. But still I find myself struggling with it all.

This is not the post in which to explore the different tribes of Christianity nor their history, or – indeed – where I fit in with all of that. All of these things are very complicated (and I do wish some of my fellow Christians who imagine it is all straightforward and simple, bothered to consider something of the history and issues surrounding the varying stands of culture, belief, and practice in Christianity and how they have come about. They might be surprised!).

For the moment, my intention is simply to express my deep feelings of being disturbed, confused, worried, and concerned, by the state of the world, by the allegiances of some parts of the Christian community, and by the tensions between family, friends, and Christian sisters and brothers. 

How has it come to this?

And the beat goes on...

 

‘There's a time and the time is now and it's right for me

It's right for me, and the time is now

There's a word and the word is love and it's right for me

It's right for me, and the word is love’

from ‘Time and a Word’ by Yes from the album ‘Time and a Word’ (1970)

If the readers of this blog are, by now, well acquainted with my dismay at the extent to which Christmas is allowed to invade and disrupt Advent, then the good people of Cambuslang Parish Church, where I am currently acting as Locum, are fast catching up!

However, as that congregation discovered on Sunday, it is not only the early arrival of Christmas that bugs me; I also bemoan its early departure! You see, there are Twelve Days of Christmas; it does not end until Epiphany. Twelve wonderful days in which to celebrate the Babe of Bethlehem, the Word made Flesh, Emmanuel (God with us). 

And yet, on Christmas Eve at midday, when I popped into our local Tesco, the staff were busy removing the Christmas decorations… at midday on Christmas Eve! When I got into the car on Boxing Day and switched on the radio, all the Christmas music that had been playing for weeks (or so it seemed) had disappeared. 

If I keep asking ‘whatever happened to Advent?’, then I might add ‘whatever happened to Christmas?' Why do so many congregations swiftly move on from Christmas readings and praise as soon as Christmas Day has passed?

I mentioned on Sunday past that in some places (including in Salisbury Cathedral, and – I am told – in the royal residences) the Christmas Tree is only put up and decorated on Christmas Eve and remains up until 2nd February – Candlemas! – so that the whole ‘Season of the Incarnation’ (Christmas and Epiphany) is marked. I am not sure that the folks of Cambuslang Parish Church were wholly convinced. One woman said to me after the service that she was going home to take her Christmas Tree down, although the Fabric Convener did ask if I wanted him to the keep the tree up until 2nd February! (I said ’no’).

Now, I am not suggesting that all the celebrations we associate with Christmas should continue for the full 12 days. I have already had my fill of crisps, cheese, and chocolate, and so on. 

But those of us who are Christian believers might surely use this Season to spend time reflecting upon the Incarnation, and celebrating it. How often over the Christmas Season we hear the Nativity readings from Luke and Matthew, and how little we seem to hear any considered reflection on the prologue of John’s Gospel. These Sundays after Christmas would be a good time!

So, let us continue our Christmas celebrations for these 12 days (at least!). In our home the tree, the lights, and the decorations will stay up until these 12 days have passed.

This is the time, and the word is love! 

And, so, the beat goes on…

Letting Go

 

‘But Lord I had to go
My trail was laid too slow behind me…’
from ‘Exiles’ by King Crimson from the album ‘Lark’s Tongues in Aspic’ (1973)

Possibly it is something to do with reflecting on ‘repentance’. Or else it is because I have been preparing a funeral service yesterday and today. Or because I have (once again) been reflecting on ‘moving on’ and ‘seasons of life’.

But, more likely my reason for finding myself challenged by a need to ‘let go’ is because I am struggling to do that very thing!

I imagine that I have moved on, drawn a line under good involvements and experiences, embraced new opportunities in place of the things I had previously valued so much, but which now belong to a past time – and then, lo and behold - there I am again, involved, attending, engaged.

So it is that I seem to have been (and am going to be) in Edinburgh almost every second day in this two week period (and yet I thought I had ‘moved on’ from my attachment to that city and ‘let go’ of it).

Having declared last year that I would not again attend one of my favourite annual events (also in Edinburgh) in which I was so involved for more than 15 years, and where I was able to engage with a cause and with people I loved (but it was time to ‘let go’ and ‘move on’, I told myself and others) nonetheless I found myself attending again this year and contributing a little (and enjoying it thoroughly). But why did I find myself once again there and involved? (Well, of course, it is because I said ‘yes’ or – at least – was not quick enough to say ‘no’ and stick with it). 

I have even found myself (only for a moment, to be fair) seeing church jobs advertised and wondering if I should apply! What?!? Am I mad? I retired almost 3 years ago!

I just can’t seem to let go.

I think this is an emotional issue, a psychological dynamic, and – above all – a spiritual matter. There is something going on within me that fights against moving on and letting go. 

However, I think a big part of that is a failure to create new patterns and engage with new challenges etc. That is part of the pain of managing retirement, I suppose. That sense of ‘what now?’. 

I was chatting to a neighbour a while back. He and his wife are also retired. However, his wife somehow gets herself involved in still doing stuff in schools (she was a teacher). He, on the other hand, enjoys watching sport on TV! While I would not likely watch much sport on TV, to be honest (apart from rugby) I do wonder why I cannot be more like him, but end up being more like her. 

Answers on a postcard please…

Now, I am not saying that having involvement and purpose in retirement (or what passes for ‘retirement’) is a bad thing. Not at all. But hanging onto a past that has gone and will not return, and failing to embrace a new future is not really healthy. 

I guess that this season of Advent, Christmas, and New Year might encourage reflection and action towards embracing the new things ahead… and I get the theory. It is just that I am not so hot on the practice!

I think there are some things of which I still need to let go. I need to work on that… but for now, I must check the time of the service I am going to attend on Sunday evening… in Edinburgh… at my former church that I left almost 9 years ago. 

You see? Letting go… simples!

Resilience

‘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’

from ‘Don’t give up’ by Peter Gabriel with Kate Bush.

One dictionary definition of ‘resilience’ is  the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties. That is fine, as far as it goes.

But, it seems to me that resilience is not simply about how we deal with crises. It is about our complete approach to life. If we do not cultivate the kind of attitudes, attributes, and habits in our everyday lives that produce what I would call resilience, then we are unlikely to be resilient when it comes to a crisis.

The graphic above suggest that flexibility, learning, and adaptability are both the roots of and the fruit of resilience. I won’t argue with that. But how do we cultivate any of these values in our lives? The problem I see with much of what is offered in commentary about resilience from secular, management, psychological ‘gurus’, is that it seems to be mostly about dealing with traumas, not handling everyday life.

In my preaching this Advent, I have very often referred to both patience and hope. No surprise there! These are words that most preachers will use in this season, I suppose.

But, perhaps also, these words give a pointer as to how we nurture the kinds of qualities that lead to resilience in everyday life; the ability to deal with the inevitable little blows and knocks that come about as we live out our lives; the little setbacks and disappointments that come each day, whatever these may be (the succession of red lights when we are driving? The long queues in the supermarket? The person standing in our way as we try to get to the ticket barriers at the station? And that is just to reference a few of the minor irritants that have afflicted me in these last few days!).

So I suppose I am asking myself, ‘how do I deal with disappointments or difficulties’… not necessarily the dramatic big things that hit us, but all the little things that we encounter. Perhaps Paul had a clue when he writes, ‘suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us’ (Romans 5: 3-5).

Ah yes; hope! 

We hold onto that hope that what we see in our world and in our lives is not necessarily God’s will, and certainly not God’s last word. His kingdom is still to come.

Be patient.

Have hope.

And so build resilience.

Repentance

 ‘Like the time I ran away,
turned around,
and you were standing close to me’
from ‘Awaken’ by Yes on the album ‘Going for the One’  

My last post was about ‘Reflection’, and this one is entitle ‘Repentance’, and I intend another entitled

‘Resilience’. It seems that three point alliterative sermons just keep happening, even in retirement!

The message of John the Baptist calling people to repentance is well known, and features in the Sunday Gospel readings in Advent. I think that we sometimes tend to think of the call to repentance as being a somewhat grim thing; the stuff of thundering sermons delivered by frowning preachers to fearful congregations. And, to be fair, John the Baptist was certainly what we might call a ‘plain speaker’! I cannot imagine many preachers today declaring to their listeners that they are ‘a brood of vipers’.

But I don’t think we should necessarily see ‘repentance’ as a grim and forbidding process, or even as being somehow contrasted to the ‘good life’ presented elsewhere in Scripture or the ‘life abundant’ of which Jesus speaks. After all, Jesus also called people to repentance.

Repentance – at its root – means a change of mind or heart, or a turning away from one direction and turning to go in another. In terms of our faith journey, it means turning from going our own way (or the ‘wrong’ way) and choosing instead to go God’s way. And God’s way is the way of life abundant. 

It is to do with undertaking an ‘about turn’ or a ‘U-turn’ on the road when we realise that we are headed in the wrong direction.

Perhaps we should view repentance (or ‘turning’ or ‘returning’) in the light of some of the words from Isaiah chapter 30 when the prophet says ‘in returning and rest you shall be saved… the Lord waits to be gracious to you…’

I don’t know about you, but for me all of that places repentance in a more positive light. 

And perhaps that is why – for me – the words from the song ‘Awaken’ by Yes (quoted above) have such resonance. How often I have turned away from God, even run away; and then, when I have finally turned around (‘repented’) there God was, close to me, and offering grace and mercy, and the path to abundant life. 

Reflection

 

‘Searching for me,
you look everywhere 
except beside you.
Searching for you, 
you look everywhere,
but not inside you’

‘Peace – An End’ by King Crimson from the 1970 album ‘In the Wake of Poseidon’  

One of the least enjoyable experiences in my life is getting my hair cut. There are many reasons why I do not much enjoy it. Being trapped in a chair for however long with someone cutting your hair who is determined to have a meaningful conversation is not something I anticipate with glee! (That said, in more recent years it has been fun to play a wee game with myself, to spot the leading questions by which the barber tries to work out whether I get charged the pensioner’s rate or not!)

But most of all, I do not appreciate this period of time when I have nowhere else to look but in the mirror. Just that reflection of myself, staring back.

In recent times I have been disturbed by the old man who stares back at me (when did he get to be that old?!). I have also been occasionally unnerved by my father seemingly looking back at me.

But I also wonder (on reflection – so to speak) if I really do not like to ponder myself, look closely at myself, see things that I might otherwise miss, or gloss over, or deny. In terms of my physical appearance, there are many of these!

But there are also the more significant and important aspects of myself that I perhaps do not reflect upon as much as I could or should.

Most people, when they are challenged about their behaviour, choices, or actions, tend to get a bit defensive. Explanations and excuses trip over each other. I confess to having that tendency.

But, in the quieter moments, when I take the time to have a harder and more honest look, and reflect upon myself, I can feel very aware of my failings, my mistakes, and my regrets. I become conscious of some of my poor choices, silly mistakes, and several failings.

Taking the time to reflect is important, in part so I can see more clearly the errors in my choices; also so I can consider how to act in response to that awareness; and most importantly in order that I can bring that before God for his forgiveness and his help to realign my actions etc, and to consider what I now do to (where appropriate) make amends, or simply amend my life!

In this Advent season, we hear the message of John the Baptist, who does not shrink from calling out bad behaviour. Perhaps that is what is in my mind when I speak about honest reflection. 

I am going to get my haircut this week. Perhaps I will use the time in front of the mirror more profitably on this occasion.

Snow on 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

I have quoted this Moody Blues song before… and the snow has fallen in Advent before… and it has certainly fallen when we have been here on our Speyside break in the first week of December. The photo above shows the view earlier today from our window here in our timeshare lodge; not very much snow, but a little, and yesterday especially, it looked very pretty.

Any eager readers of my various posts on my blog in years past will recall that I have an ambivalent attitude towards snow. I enjoy looking out at it. Indeed, if properly dressed, I can enjoy walking in it. But when I need to go somewhere, need to drive, or am awaiting a delivery, or whatever, I really do not like the snow. It looks beautiful, but it also disrupts life. 

So, when the snow begins to fall, I find myself conflicted; I find delight and anxiety arise in equal measure!

As I have suggested in years’ past, there are two sides to snow… and there are two sides to Advent also. 

This is the season 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.

But, it is into the darkness that the light shines, and hope is born. That is what we are invited to remember and reaffirm in Advent. God’s Kingdom is not yet, but in its time it will come. 

One of the favourite Christmas Carols of many people is ‘In the Bleak Mid-Winter’:

In the bleak mid-winter

Frosty wind made moan;

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter

Long ago

(Christina Rossetti) 

I have to confess, it is far from my favourite – very far!

The popular tune by Gustav Holst I find far from inspiring (and I generally love Holst’s work). The tune by Harold Darke so often sung by choirs at services of Lessons and Carols is much more appealing to me. 

But it is the words of that first verse I find most unappealing (and the rest of the verses are wonderful!). That first verse is so very depressing! And don’t start me on the fact that Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem was almost certainly not in the ‘bleak mid-winter’ and there was scarce chance of frost, still less ‘snow on snow’?!?

And yet, I presume that even if most of those who sing and love this carol may imagine that it was in such a bleak meteorological context that the birth of Jesus took place, Christina Rossetti knew better. So, what then is she saying? 

Is it perhaps that it is in the bleakest, darkest, ‘coldest’, most forbidding times in our lives (and in our world?) that hope is born and the light shines?

Indeed, one musicologist has suggested that verse 1 of this carol is ‘a metaphor for a "harsh spiritual landscape" experienced at the time of Christ's birth’. If so, it speaks to all of us in the face of the blizzards and bleakness that can afflict us.

It is in such times, that hope is born.

It is in the darkness, that the light shines.

It may be worth looking afresh at this carol… 

Knowledge and Wisdom

 

‘Knowledge is a deadly friend

if no-one sets the rules’

From ‘Epitaph’ by King Crimson (from the Album ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’)

‘Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, wisdom is not serving it with custard’.. or something like that!

What is more, I am wise enough to know that quoting from the Buddha (see above) is not likely to go down too well with some of my more theologically conservative friends. But I reckon that wisdom is to be celebrated wherever it may be found.

I am also aware that a blog post on the topic of ‘wisdom’ might have been better left until Epiphany when we celebrate the coming of the Wise Ones to Jesus, rather than writing this post at the beginning of Advent.

But, hey, there you go! (and I may be unlikely to post much come January!)

Although I have been reflecting a little on wisdom of late, I am not sure I have much wisdom to offer in this wee post. Just a musing… or two.

As a human race I suppose that we have never had more knowledge than we do now; but I fear that this knowledge is not often accompanied by wisdom. If ever we needed wise people and wise judgements it is surely now.

I read somewhere that ‘knowledge is the accumulation of facts and data, while wisdom is the ability to use that knowledge to make good decisions’. If so, then I would have to confess that I constantly pursue  the accumulation of facts and data (knowledge), but I am unsure how much wisdom I have, or to what extent I truly seek it. But I do want to seek wisdom, to thirst for it, crave it; and I certainly wish I had more of it! 

But how do I acquire wisdom? 

The more I have thought about this, the more it seems to me that the quest for wisdom is a spiritual quest. So I am seeking to pray about it, ponder it in God’s presence, read the parts of the Bible often referred to as ‘Wisdom literature’ to discover more, and to allow wisdom to shape me and permeate my mind and soul.

In the Bible, Wisdom (‘Sophia’) is often personified; she (and she is most definitely ‘she’!) is depicted as a person. What, I wonder, is the significance of that? And what is the relationship between Sophia and Logos (God’s Word, which became flesh in Jesus)?

Interesting questions, and much to ponder.

But the danger for me is that this pondering becomes a search for more knowledge about Wisdom, rather than the pursuit of Wisdom herself; and it is Wisdom that I am seeking.

Advent Once Again!

 ‘I come back, come back
You see my return
My returning face is smiling
Smile of a waiting man’
From ‘Waiting Man’ by King Crimson (from the Album ‘Beat’)

Two years ago, in the first of my Advent blogs of 2022, I wrote:

• I blog only very occasionally and haphazardly

• Notwithstanding  that, I do tend to blog regularly in Advent

• I love this season of Advent and wish that the church was better at allowing Advent to be Advent and not simply an excuse to prematurely celebrate Christmas 

• I use a lot of quotes from music (especially but not exclusively, rock music and particularly from that genre that is known as ‘progressive rock’) 

• I reflect a lot on the different changes and challenges of life as the years pass

Well, not much has changed! In spite of my own hopes and best intentions, I still only blog occasionally. But Advent, it seems, is the time when I am most likely to be regularly blogging (sometimes even daily!). The exception being last year when we were in the throes of moving house.

It makes me wonder why I tend to blog in Advent, but not so much at other times in the year.

Reflecting upon this, I think that there may be several reasons.

To start with, I can’t avoid the most obvious reason, which is that we tend to take a week’s leave in the first week of December. We have done this for years now, and it is, therefore, always a time with more space and opportunity to reflect and to blog. 

I also think that the ending of the liturgical year and the dawning of the new Christian year, along with the approach of Christmas and New Year, is a natural time for looking back and looking forward, for reflecting and pondering. 

But, I suspect the main reason is that I am so passionate about this season of Advent and (as I said two years ago, as mentioned above) ‘I love this season of Advent and wish that the church was better at allowing Advent to be Advent and not simply an excuse to prematurely celebrate Christmas’.

As I have said before (and I have stirred up a fair bit of controversy and complaint as a result!) if it were up to me, we would not sing a Christmas ‘carol’ before the Watchnight Service on Christmas Eve (after all, we don’t usually sing ‘Thine be the Glory’ on Good Friday!). And we would not put up a Christmas tree until that same evening, and so on. We would focus on Advent and what it is about, and explore the themes of patience, prayer and preparation, of waiting and watching, of hope… as well as the darker Advent themes of suffering and darkness, along with the related themes of repentance and rejoicing. Allowing Advent to be Advent, gives us room to develop anticipation and nurture hope. 

Now, to be fair, I would also then keep celebrating Christmas and singing carols joyfully up until the ‘twelfth night’ or even beyond! The Christmas season lasts until Epiphany (6th January). Some would say until Candlemas (2nd February). What fun that would be!

But, alas, that now seems like a wistful hope that is unlikely to find much traction in our contemporary, commercialised age. I recall a few years ago popping into Tesco on Christmas Eve just before it was closing, and already the staff were busy taking down all the Christmas decorations and displays.

And so, I find myself inevitably and inexorably (and a little unhappily) drawn into the premature celebration of Christmas, and – as one who conducts worship – find myself uneasily choosing Christmas praise for Sunday worship somewhat earlier than feels comfortable. But I feel obliged so to do, and I know of one colleague who faced considerable anger from the congregation due to his failure to do that very thing on the Sunday before Christmas. 

Ah well… I will try to avoid that, however reluctantly! 

But, for myself, I will make every effort to allow Advent to be Advent, not due to some pursuit of ‘liturgical purity’ (of which I have been accused more than once with regard to this issue!). But because I believe that Christians are denying themselves the opportunity to engage with a season in which we can reflect on some of the most important and significant and deep aspects of our faith. 

A Change of Rhythm

 

‘And through the rhythm,

of moving slowly;

sent through the rhythm,

work out the story’

 

Yes ‘The Revealing Science of God’ on the album ‘Tales from Topographic Oceans’ (1973)

 

I remember when I used to post supposedly deep (pretentious?) reflections on my blog regarding matters of life and faith and so on. It has been a while since I have done so. But I hope to get back to these posts… sometime.

Meanwhile, this post consists of (yet) more musings on the stage of life at which I now find myself.

But, perhaps that is the point; I am now reflecting on different things and it seems my focus has changed. Or – to put it another way – the rhythm of life has changed.

I am aware that since I became a grandfather, and since I retired, I have said quite a lot on my blog about contentedness, gratitude, the seasons of life, the ‘pleasures of a lifetime’ and so on. I am very much enjoying this new phase of life.

And, more than that, I am aware of how I am adjusting the rhythm of my life. As I look back over the years, I am amazed at, and grateful for, the many things I have done, places I have been, marvels I have seen, and so forth. Fifty years ago I would not have imagined even half of the experiences I can look back on.

But now I find that the rhythm is changing, or perhaps I am choosing to change the rhythm. No longer do I feel ‘driven’ (or even greatly motivated) to go to exotic places, do adventurous things, or so on. I realise that for many of my contemporaries retirement is a time for foreign travel, prolonged holidays and such like. And good for them! They seem to be enjoying it, and I am very pleased for them.

Just today, a group of old school friends who get together from time to time were in touch with one another by email to see if we could plan our next lunch date. The first date suggested suited me fine… and only one other person. The rest couldn’t make it as they were (variously) in Turkey, Japan, or Switzerland!

Now, I guess I still have a few foreign trips in me, but the prospect no longer ignites my excitement as once it would. Instead, I find I want to spend my time in different ways; possibly in ‘simpler’ ways?

I want to spend time with my grandchildren, I want to think about writing, to compose and play more music, to spend more time doing things around the house, to watch the birds in the garden, to explore local parks and museums, to read more books, and so on. 

Yes, the rhythm has changed.

And, although I am still involved in a little bit of ministry, I am pleased that the rather hectic rhythms of full-time parish ministry are a thing of the past. The new, slower rhythms of life allow me to enjoy just a little more time to pray and ponder, to read and reflect, to think big thoughts and even sometimes just stare into space.

I guess if I keep doing that then some new posts of the more reflective and thoughtful nature may eventually reappear. But then, perhaps even these will have a different rhythm.

 

Originality, Creativity, and Plagiarism

 

 

‘The eyes of honesty can achieve,

How many millions do we deceive,

Each day?’

Yes ‘Close to the Edge’ on the album ‘Close to the Edge’ (1972)

 

With the rich resources of the internet at our fingertips, it has never been easier to copy other people’s work and pass it off as our own.

However, with the proliferation of plagiarism-checking apps, we have never been more at risk of being found out!

Plagiarism is not new. Sometimes it is blatant and unapologetic. Sometimes it is unconscious and unintentional. But the question is, where do we draw the line and how do we act honestly in our creativity?

It may seem obvious, but I don’t think it is always easy or straightforward.

Of course, sometimes plagiarism is very blatant and – with something of a brass-neck – someone can pass off someone else’s work as their own; or attempt so to do.

I well recall a book by one of my professors at university, the first chapter of which was almost word for word taken from the book of another (more famous and renowned) professor from another university. It was so clearly copied, that all of my fellow students were aware of it and openly discussed it; and the professor appeared entirely unembarrassed!

I have attended church services where the preacher has simply read a sermon previously published by another (in one case, read directly from a well-known book of sermons, and in the other obviously and blatantly read from a then well-known publication). And in contemporary times, too many preachers simply copy and paste from online sermons, of varying quality, freely available on the internet.

My view is that this is not at all acceptable!

However, where do we draw the line?

Way back in the early 1970s, I was a member of a rock band. I played bass guitar, sang, and wrote some of the songs. One of the songs of which I was particularly proud (and which was written in good 70s prog rock style) was called ‘Mists of Time’. I (modestly) thought the main riff was great, and the melody line pretty good. I did not consciously ‘steal’ from anyone else… not consciously. But, years later when revisiting an album by one of my favourite bands of the time, I heard the riff – yes, that riff… what I had thought was my riff. I had not intentionally or consciously stolen it; but there it was on this other album. It  was a while after that when I listened to yet another album by another prog rock band (an album I had bought and listened to when I was 14) and I realised that the melody of the verse of one of the songs was almost identical to the melody of the song that I had ‘composed’.

I did not consciously or intentionally ‘plagiarise’, but the similarities were so strong that I doubt that it would have gone unnoticed by the original artistes had our band every recorded my song (which has never since seen the light of day). Many bands and songwriters have faced similar issues from John Lennon to Led Zeppelin to George Harrison and so many others. There have been court cases and accusations galore.

Even stranger is when one (for example) uses a phrase only later to discover it has been used elsewhere in a work that one had no awareness of having previously read or heard. That has happened to me in the context of song lyrics. Had I perhaps heard that lyric at some time and not recalled it, but the phrase has stuck in my mind?

Is that plagiarism?

Truth be told, I am a bit paranoid about it all. While I have never had written works published (other than in a couple of journals.. and – of course – my blog!) nor songs publicly issued, I have recorded some songs which friends have heard, and printed some works that have had limited distribution (in a congregation or amongst a specific group). Even so, I have tended to acknowledge that I may have unconsciously and unintentionally used ideas from others (and in some cases I have specifically stated so in covering notes, and in one case I apologised personally and directly to a far better preacher than I, for using one of his illustrations in a sermon that came to be distributed in print form; just for the record, he was unconcerned and perfectly at ease with my having so done!).  

But the question remains; what constitutes plagiarism and what is simply being ‘inspired by’ someone else’s work? On the spectrum from blatant and intentional copying at one end, and unconscious ‘inspiration’ and influence at the other, where do we draw the line?

I’m not terribly sure. (But just for the record, this post is all my own work… I think!).

 

 

 

Seasons (again!)

 

‘Seasons will pass you by,

I get up, I get down’

Yes ‘Close to the Edge’ on the album ‘Close to the Edge’ (1972)

I posted a blog on ‘Seasons’ a few years back. In that post I reflected on how I was entering into the final phase of my full-time Ministry and how I felt about it. I also mentioned that, in looking forward to retirement, some folks spoke about a new chapter in life, but that for me it was more like a new season.

I have now been ‘retired’ for just over two years. I put ‘retired’ in inverted commas, as I don’t think I will ever fully retire from Ministry. Currently, I find myself serving as a ‘Locum’ which takes up two days a week plus the Sunday service. 

But things have definitely changed, slowed down, moved into a new phase, and at a different pace. As I anticipated a couple of years ago, it does feel like a new season. 

Retirement is part of that, but so is being a grandparent. That has definitely changed perspectives and felt like a new ‘season’! 

However, one other thing (pretty much unique to the experience of Ministers) is that, being retired, we only now own and live in our own home. Now, of course, over the years of Ministry we have had homes! But they have been owned by our respective congregations. We have also owned properties over the years, but these have not been our homes in which we have lived. For this first time, as retired people, we own the home in which we live. And that is a great feeling!

The drawback is that, given our age and stage, we want to get the house and garden sorted pretty quickly and are expending rather a lot of time, and energy, and money doing so. We are aware that this season of life is not going to go on forever. We do not have the luxury of several decades stretching ahead of us in which we can gradually get home and garden as we would like!

But that is ok.

And, in fact, the reason I began this post was because I have been reflecting on how content I have become in this new season. The experiences of retirement, grandparenthood, and living in our own home will all be part of this. But whatever the reasons, contentedness is not a quality I (or those close to me) would have previously attributed to me! 

But I do feel very content, and at peace with life, and deeply grateful. While I am more than aware that this new season will not go on forever (and I am very aware that the years pass ever more swiftly), it remains a time of peace, contentedness, mellowness, and gratitude. 

I feel less urgency about achieving, acquiring, experiencing, or striving. I have already done much, seen much, experienced much and achieved much. I am content (there’s that word again!) to look back on much of that with gratitude and happily settle into this new season.

The Apostle Paul once wrote; ‘I have learned to be content’ (Philippians 4: 11). 

Perhaps I too am learning that secret.

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.