Travelling and Thinking

As befits one who has self-identified as a ‘Suitcase Sojourner’ I have been travelling a bit of late.

Indeed, since I last posted on my blog (way too long ago I fear!) I have not only been shuttling between home (Lennoxtown) and parish (Perthshire) but have frequently also been in our second home (Edinburgh) have visited various other parts of mainland Scotland (and sneaked just out of Scotland to Berwick upon Tweed on two occasions) journeyed to the South East of England, have been in Shetland several times and have also managed to be in Athens!

Most of these journeys have involved a fair bit of talking and reflection (and a little reading too).

Athens was remarkable. It was the first time that we had been there (although we had visited Greece previously).  This is not the place to enthuse about the people, the food or even the Acropolis! But, in relation to this post, I want to say how struck I was by the ancient Agora and the Areopagus. Confused? Then look them up!

What led me to reflective silence when visiting these was that the Apostle Paul had walked the ‘streets’ of the Agora (see Acts 17 vs 17 – ‘market place’ = ‘Agora’) and had preached at the Areopagus (see Acts 17 vs 19ff). All of which in itself would be cause enough to pause and ponder.... walking in the footsteps of Paul!

But it also occurred to me that here was a man of conviction and faith seeking to communicate the Good News of Jesus in a largely hostile environment.

Once again I was reminded that ‘Christendom’ and the experience of generations, up to and including my own, of a dominant Christian culture was utterly foreign to the New Testament Christians.

It seems to me that this is a reality with which we need to reacquaint ourselves. I have been struck by this in my ongoing and happy engagement as Interim Minister in Perthshire, and also in my journeys as part of a team of Interim Minsters to the beautiful Shetland Isles.

Things have changed and are changing. We cannot simply lament the changes. We need to find new ways of being church for the future.

Some years ago I gave further thought to this in an article which was written in response to a Ministries Council Report and was published in the journal ‘Theology in Scotland’. If you are interested you can read it here https://ojs.st-andrews.ac.uk/index.php/TIS/article/view/70/611

In brief, my conclusion is that we need to quickly die to the Christendom model of church and realise that we are becoming a fragile, vulnerable, marginalised church... just as was the church in New Testament times.

I think that only once we grasp that will we be able to become the kind of church that God may be calling us to be.

Fear for the Future

It seems that our world is faced with so many uncertainties. Recent and potential political changes not to mention constitutional uncertainties have been added into the mix of the resurgence of Russian power and the terror of Isis. And somewhere in all that mix are the threats from North Korea which seem more difficult to laugh off with every passing month.

But, for me, there is a feature of our modern Western European democracy which has caused me greater concern than even the aforementioned. For years I have worried about it and now – with everything else that is happening – I am becoming ever more fearful.

It is the fact that Western European democracies have by and large ditched religious faith. Now, those of you not of a faith oriented persuasion might sigh and shake your head and think that ‘he would say that’. But this is not me seeking to be an apologist for personal faith or Christian beliefs – at least, not this time!

It is a genuine concern that our society has embarked on an unprecedented experiment. With a few limited, short-lived and far from encouraging exceptions (the Soviet Union under Stalin, Pol Pot’s regime... any others? Nazi Germany is somewhat more complicated, although no more encouraging!) almost every human society has sought (or at least claimed) to live in recognition of a belief that there was a greater ‘Other’ (or others) to whom human beings and society had some kind of responsibility and accountability. Now I know that I am opening myself up to the usual, well-worn, tired and oft-repeated attacks on religion and how ‘all wars were started by religion’ (eh... no, not even most!) that religious societies have exploited, oppressed and abused (yes, this has been true) and so on.

My point is not to defend institutional religious expressions (which can be frankly ridiculous), the behaviour of societies that acknowledge the Divine (for sometimes that behaviour has been indefensible) or the hypocrisy of many who own religious faith (guilty as charged!).  Although that said, it is a little concerning that the dissuaders fail to mention (or worse, misrepresent!) the role of religion and faith in the history and development of art, literature, science, mathematics, education, social care, medicine, charitable endeavour and so on... funny that!

But, I digress!

My fear is really that we have embarked upon a huge experiment. In the words of Charles Murray (author of ‘The Bell Curve’ and with whom I do not agree on many things, but on this I do!) ‘.. [Europe is} trying a unique social experiment, running societies with an absence of God, and it [will] most likely not work’.

Well, we’ll see... but we may see way too late!

I recall an older and wiser (and very knowledgeable and deeply intelligent) person saying to me some 20 years ago... ‘it remains to be seen whether Western democracy can survive slipping its moorings from Christianity’.  

I am certainly not arguing for a return to Christendom. I am not convinced it was such a good idea in the first place! I am not here speaking out of a concern for the future of the church, but more out of a concern for the future of the liberal, democratic society to which Christianity gave birth.

Confronting our drivenness

Yesterday three quite separate and apparently random occurrences caused me to reflect upon why so many of us are so ‘driven’.

In the morning I had been reading from Mark chapter 1 and was struck (not for the first time) by the way in which Jesus got up early, before it was light, to get some time to be on his own to pray (vs 35ff). I remembered the title of a book I read some years ago by Bill Hybels ‘Too busy not to pray’.

However, I was also struck by the fact that Jesus seems to have been trying to escape the crowd, the demands and the pressures (see vs 36 & 37).

None of us can go on and on giving. We need time apart. Time to be on our own; time to be with God; time with those closest to us (and elsewhere in the Gospels we find Jesus drawing his disciples aside for such times).

Later in the day I was visiting in the hospital and I bumped into a colleague who was also visiting. We got chatting and again there arose this whole issue of work pressures, time off, spending time with family and so on. We reflected on how we both were guilty of allowing the demands of ministry to determine our priorities, and that other things (and not least marriage and family!) could suffer as a result.

As I drove back from the hospital I thought a bit about both my morning reading and this conversation. Why are we like this?

Is it a response to the needs of others? If so, why are we not better at responding to the needs of our nearest and dearest?!?

Is it because we feel that this busyness reflects the fact that we have been called by God to serve him in a particular way? If so, then why are we not better at following the pattern of Jesus by whom we have been called and whom we claim to follow, who drew apart to be alone, to escape the crowds, to pray, to be with those closest to him?

Or is it in fact because we are at some unconscious (or is it really that unconscious?) level meeting our own needs? Our need to ‘matter’, our need to be loved and appreciated by others, our need to be of value, our need to justify ourselves by our busyness, our need to assuage our guilt? If any of these is the case (and I fear that several of them may be the case for many of us!) then somewhere and somehow our theology has gone sadly awry. And who suffers? Well, we do... our spiritual, social and personal well-being is compromised. Our family and married life also suffers, and that is utterly tragic. Are our vows at marriage and the baptism of our children somehow secondary to our ordination vows?!? But in the end our ministry suffers too, as do those to whom we minister.

I said that there were three things yesterday that struck me. What was the third? In the evening I opened the newspaper and late on came across an article (I read it in a different paper, but a version of it appears here http://www.standard.co.uk/lifestyle/london-life/why-four-hour-working-days-might-be-just-as-effective-as-working-9-5-a3436766.html ) which claimed that to work long hours is often to work inefficiently and that we could in fact get more done by working less! I rather liked one of the assertions in the article ‘meetings should never be longer than 40 minutes long’!  The article was headed ‘How to do a full day’s work in only four hours’, although that was not quite the claim actually made in the article nor in the book to which it was referring. Nonetheless, the points in the article did make me reflect further.

Why are we so driven? Why are we so wedded to the notion that long hours means efficient, fruitful or faithful work? Whose needs are we really seeking to meet? What would really please the God who rested after creating, who commanded a Sabbath rest for humanity and whose Son sought solitude and space?

Wish I could be home for Christmas

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

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

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

I wish I could be home for Christmas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Advent Anticipation

Oh Advent!

Season of prayer and preparation.

Season of watching and waiting.

Season of patience and perseverance.

Season of anticipation and alertness.

I love Advent!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know how you feel

‘I know how you feel’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you to those who do! It is appreciated.

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

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

Bitterly Divided

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A ‘mustard seed’ perhaps?