The last six months have, I have to say, been some of the strangest in the 30 years I have been serving God and God's church in ministry. They began with a Sabbatical: a three month period free from the normal activities of ministry that the church gives to its ministers every seven years. That I was on sabbatical is not that strange, in that it was the third such break I've undertaken, but for a good part of the time I was away from home, and for five weeks I was in the USA, which gave me a fascinating insight into this diverse, beautiful and at times troubling nation. On the whole it was 3 months well spent, with plenty of time for myself and my particular interests, as well as for family, friends and travel.
On my return to 'normal' ministry there was much to catch up on in the lives of the churches I serve, as both the Circuit (a geographical grouping of 8 churches that I oversee) and the main church that I look after were undergoing strategic reviews, and much work in these areas had been done while I was away. But early on in that time of catching up, in consultation with the Lay leaders in the circuit, it was decided that the gifts and leadership style that I had to offer didn't quite fit with where the circuit were at the present, and that the best thing for both them and me would be to curtail my appointment (I've written more about this here). That then launched me into the church's stationing process, which came up with a new appointment for me from September 2017, based around Castle Donington.
So, December began with plans for the future, both of the churches in Kendal and for my ministry, beginning to take shape. Alongside that were preparations for celebrating what would be my final Christmas in Kendal, and starting to look ahead to the new year and the Methodist practise of renewing ones Covenant with God. At the heart of that service is a prayer, which has in it some of the hardest words we're called upon to pray (I have written a little about it here): "put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will; put me to doing, put me to suffering; let me be employed for you or laid aside for you, exalted for you or brought low for you; let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all thing, let me have nothing..."
"...laid aside for you..." Those words seemed so much to speak of those past few months. Laid aside from the normal work of ministry to explore other areas; laid aside from the work in a particular place to take up the calling elsewhere. But there was to be more 'laying aside', and I don't think I was quite ready for this.
On Tuesday 6th December I went for my normal early morning walk around Kendal, and at around 07:40 I was about half way round when I was knocked down by a van as I was crossing a zebra crossing. I know this only because people have told me, as I have absolutely no recollection of the event whatsoever - the first thing I remember is waking in Lancaster hospital on the morning of December 7th. I was left with some facial scarring and stitches to the back of my head; damage to the ligaments of my left knee which, 8 weeks on and counting, is still causing considerable pain and inconvenience; and bruising and slight bleeding to the brain, along with concussion. 8 weeks later (as I write) I am still not recovered.
What do I make of all this? As a Christian minister of 25 years experience, where is God in all this and what is God saying to me through this? These are questions that have been perplexing me in the many quiet moments I have spent on my own over the past few weeks. (I'm not after a sympathy vote, by the way, and if I come across as a whining self-pity merchant, please forgive me - I don't mean to.)
The last 8 weeks have, naturally, been a struggle for me. I am (or have been) quite active for a 55 year-old, walking around 4 miles a day, and now I'm quite pleased when I clock up 1 mile! Consequently my weight is creeping up. As a 'religious professional' there have been a number of issues that have dominated my thoughts and prayers: why did God let this happen, especially just at one of the busiest times of the year? The selfish part of me asks 'why couldn't God stop the van from hitting me?'; the grateful part of me says 'thank God the driver wasn't going any faster!'
Although I have always looked at my role as a presbyter as being a two-fold thing of being and doing - one is ordained to the office (being) and work (doing) of a Presbyter in God's church - much of my value as a minister comes from the work - the 'doing'. Now that, for the moment at least, that 'doing' is either not possible or seriously restricted, what does that do for my self-worth and identity? Part of this 'laying aside' has been about learning to 'be' again - to see my value is in who I am more than in what I do - and not just to learn to 'be' a minister but to learn to 'be' a disciple afresh as well. There are still things that I cannot do, as there are things that I can't do as well as I used to, but I still believe I am valued and loved for who I am by the God who created me, redeemed me, called me and knows me in a way no-one else ever could.
I have had to rely on others, particularly my wife, Jude, for things that I would normally do myself, most notably transport, as I'm not allowed to drive at the moment and can't walk very far. I've had to learn how to receive rather than to give, particularly over Christmas, when for the past 25 years I have been the one giving. I have received much love and understanding from God's people, across the town, across the country and across the world, and by 'God's People' I would include those who don't see themselves in that way as well as those who do: the love and care and counsel of many friends, of all faiths and none, has been a great source of strength and hope to me. If you're reading this, thank you!
Last Sunday I preached for the first time since the accident (as part of a phased return to work which looks like taking place over many weeks), and the text was Paul's words to the Christians in Corinth: "God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength." That foolishness and weakness, says Paul, is seen in the Cross, and in these days I've been drawn closer to that place, for there my pain, my frustration, my weakness, my looking for answers, take on a whole different context. I appreciate that my 'laying aside' may only be for a season, but it must, for me, be seen alongside that of Christ, in whom is life, healing and hope.
I pray that this will sustain me, though it's still tough, painful and frustrating. And not just for me!
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Thursday, 2 February 2017
Thursday, 6 August 2015
Farewell to Sheffield
The Methodist ministry is, by its very nature, an itinerant one. Mr Wesley's ordained preachers were never meant to stay in one place for long, and, however settled one may be in a place, one knows that there will come a time to move on. For me that time has now come, and after 11 years in Sheffield the stressful process of uprooting is here.
All such moves are hard - on the minister, their family, and on the churches - as relationships, attachments and familiarities change and dissolve. All of my moves have been so, for a number of reasons, particularly the one that brought us here, as my leaving was not the most pleasant, and the experience left me with numerous 'issues' that took many years to resolve themselves. But this parting seems to be hitting me hardest of all of them.
One reason is the relationships that we as a family have built up - or re-established - here over the past 11 years. Jude, my wife, was born here: in fact the house she was born into is only about 400 yards from where we currently live. Her brothers still live here, as well as members of the wider family, and old friends from school and church. This is 'home' to her. It was in this city that mine and Jude's relationship began, developed and, 27 years ago, was celebrated in marriage. Our two sons - boys of 13 & 11 when we came here - are now men of 24 & 22. This is the place, above all the places we have lived, that they now call 'home', and leaving children to forge their own lives is never easy for a parent, but that we must do.
The churches to whom, and with whom, I have ministered, are another reason for this parting being hard. As I have mentioned, I was not in a 'good place' when we arrived in 2004, but the love, care, support and prayers of God's people have pulled me through and, I believe, have made me a better minister as a result. It's not always been an easy ride over those years, either for me or them, but the good people of Stanwood, Rivelin Glen (latterly Hall Park Head), Stannington, Dungworth, Walkley and (principally, as they are the only congregation that I've been associated with for the entirety of my time here) Wesley Hall have shown me such love and support that I will always cherish and remember with great affection.
One thing that has amazed and appalled me in equal measure is the amount of junk that we have accumulated in our time here: junk that has now been recycled, charity-shopped or shredded. I hope that, having de-cluttered quite savagely, we can keep the amount to a minimum in future.
And so we move on:. a move that, for my sake as much as for the churches, is needed. We are both ready for and in need of fresh challenges and stimulations to bring out and develop the gifts that God had given us. I leave one beautiful part of God's world for another, and as a Yorkshireman move back into 'exile' after 17 years back in 'God's own county', as we depart for Kendal and the Lake District. There there will be new geography to get to know; new people and situations to familiarise myself with; and new responsibilities as I take on the role of Superintendent Minister for the first time - a job, if I'm honest, I have coveted for a number of years, and one for which I am, perhaps, only just ready. I trust that, as always, God's timing is perfect. We'll see!
So, goodbye Sheffield, the City of Steel, a city on the move.
All such moves are hard - on the minister, their family, and on the churches - as relationships, attachments and familiarities change and dissolve. All of my moves have been so, for a number of reasons, particularly the one that brought us here, as my leaving was not the most pleasant, and the experience left me with numerous 'issues' that took many years to resolve themselves. But this parting seems to be hitting me hardest of all of them.
One reason is the relationships that we as a family have built up - or re-established - here over the past 11 years. Jude, my wife, was born here: in fact the house she was born into is only about 400 yards from where we currently live. Her brothers still live here, as well as members of the wider family, and old friends from school and church. This is 'home' to her. It was in this city that mine and Jude's relationship began, developed and, 27 years ago, was celebrated in marriage. Our two sons - boys of 13 & 11 when we came here - are now men of 24 & 22. This is the place, above all the places we have lived, that they now call 'home', and leaving children to forge their own lives is never easy for a parent, but that we must do.
The churches to whom, and with whom, I have ministered, are another reason for this parting being hard. As I have mentioned, I was not in a 'good place' when we arrived in 2004, but the love, care, support and prayers of God's people have pulled me through and, I believe, have made me a better minister as a result. It's not always been an easy ride over those years, either for me or them, but the good people of Stanwood, Rivelin Glen (latterly Hall Park Head), Stannington, Dungworth, Walkley and (principally, as they are the only congregation that I've been associated with for the entirety of my time here) Wesley Hall have shown me such love and support that I will always cherish and remember with great affection.
One thing that has amazed and appalled me in equal measure is the amount of junk that we have accumulated in our time here: junk that has now been recycled, charity-shopped or shredded. I hope that, having de-cluttered quite savagely, we can keep the amount to a minimum in future.
And so we move on:. a move that, for my sake as much as for the churches, is needed. We are both ready for and in need of fresh challenges and stimulations to bring out and develop the gifts that God had given us. I leave one beautiful part of God's world for another, and as a Yorkshireman move back into 'exile' after 17 years back in 'God's own county', as we depart for Kendal and the Lake District. There there will be new geography to get to know; new people and situations to familiarise myself with; and new responsibilities as I take on the role of Superintendent Minister for the first time - a job, if I'm honest, I have coveted for a number of years, and one for which I am, perhaps, only just ready. I trust that, as always, God's timing is perfect. We'll see!
So, goodbye Sheffield, the City of Steel, a city on the move.
Saturday, 18 January 2014
Ecumenism where it matters
As we begin the Octave of Prayer for Christian Unity today, it was perhaps fortuitous that I came across this article on-line. It is an account of a truly radical (that is, something that goes to the root) act of Christian reconciliation and fellowship that renewed my hope in God's church and the unity for which Jesus prayed on the night before he died.
In itself the action that the report tells of is unremarkable: many Christian people will have shared such a moment many times. Indeed for the Roman Catholic church (and others in the catholic tradition) this is an action that most participate in every time they enter a church building - as the article states. What has caught the imagination is that this was something that took place between a Roman Catholic cardinal and a female United Methodist minister.
With all the controversy that exists within the Christian communion over the ministry of women, this is a wonderful, prophetic action which declares that, whatever our theology, the bottom line is that by virtue of our allegiance to Christ, signified by the sacrament of baptism, we are part of the one Body of Christ. Irrespective of how we worship, where we gather, how we order our particular expression of Jesus's disciples, there is a unity that goes beyond our humanly-constructed (perhaps I can rightly say 'man-made') delineations. This is where our focus should be: not only in these next eight days, but every day.
May they be one... so that the world may believe!
In itself the action that the report tells of is unremarkable: many Christian people will have shared such a moment many times. Indeed for the Roman Catholic church (and others in the catholic tradition) this is an action that most participate in every time they enter a church building - as the article states. What has caught the imagination is that this was something that took place between a Roman Catholic cardinal and a female United Methodist minister.
With all the controversy that exists within the Christian communion over the ministry of women, this is a wonderful, prophetic action which declares that, whatever our theology, the bottom line is that by virtue of our allegiance to Christ, signified by the sacrament of baptism, we are part of the one Body of Christ. Irrespective of how we worship, where we gather, how we order our particular expression of Jesus's disciples, there is a unity that goes beyond our humanly-constructed (perhaps I can rightly say 'man-made') delineations. This is where our focus should be: not only in these next eight days, but every day.
May they be one... so that the world may believe!
Friday, 31 August 2012
20 years on...
Today marks the end of my first 20 years in Circuit ministry in the Methodist Church in Great Britain as a Presbyter. I say that last thing because I spent 2 years prior to being selected for ministry serving as a Lay Pastor to 2 congregations in Leicestershire. But this could very well be the mid-point of my active ministry: How has the experience been?
Following 3 years training in Bristol, the first 6 years were spent in post-industrial County Durham, in the town of Stanley. Well, I call it a town - that's how it seemed to me when I arrived there fresh from college - but I soon discovered that it was more of a collection of pit villages, each with their own particular identity and each lacking the one thing that gave them that identity - the pit. These had closed back in the 1970s, but their shadow still hung heavily in the air and in the hearts and lives of the people.
Methodism in County Durham is, to all intents and purposes, the established church: it was easier to start a Methodist Society as these communities were being built than it was to establish an Anglican parish. Consequently, if people didn't go to church there it was the Methodist Church they didn't go to - unless they needed a christening, a wedding (often after the second christening) or a funeral. So, my time there was largely spent on what were laughingly called 'occasional offices', making many contacts with the 'unchurched', but having very little time to develop those contacts as a fresh 'batch' came along with at times alarming regularity. I averaged 20 Weddings a year, around 60 christenings ('wet' and 'dry'), and roughly 80 funerals: many opportunities to 'sow the seed' of the gospel, but little time for harvest.
After 6 years, and having guided one of the churches through their centenary celebrations, I moved from Stanley to Wetherby in West Yorkshire - only about 10 miles from home - to take charge of 3 churches there. Sociologically a very different appointment, in that Wetherby is, in many areas, a lot more affluent a place, with the consequent challenges that that brings in ministry terms. Together we saw in the new millennium and explored new ways of worship and of doing and being church - explorations that did not come without issues, in-fighting and insensitivity - from me as well as them. I learned a lot about people and about ministry there, but not without considerable cost to my soul and my psyche at times.
The Wetherby years were also the time when I spent a lot of time engaged in Chaplaincy. Alongside the 3 churches I had care of, I was also the Free Churches chaplain at HMYOI Wetherby. This not only provided many opportunities to engage these young lads in conversations about important issues, but also to introduce them to stories that had been a part of my life almost from the beginning. There is a particular joy to being able to tell the story of the Prodigal Son to a 17 year-old lad for the first time and to see the recognition in his face as he reflects with you on its timeless qualities. In contrast to the work in the prison, I was also chaplain to 35 (Wetherby) Squadron of the Air Training Corps: a generally motivated bunch of young people, more or less the same age as the YOIs. No generation can be stereotyped: hopefully all generations can be given hope and purpose for their lives.
And so, in 2004, to Sheffield. For the last 8 years I have been minister of Wesley Hall, Crookes, a large Methodist Chapel with a relatively small congregation, sitting in the shadow of one of the largest Anglican churches in the country (St Thomas' Crookes). In that time we have together sought to catch a vision for our place in that community, and to develop Wesley Hall as a focus for many activities in the Crookes area. From there we reach out to young families through the Toddler Group, to the elderly with the Lunch Club, and to young lads through Boy's Brigade. Our buildings are used by MENCAP to house offices, by choirs and opera groups, for Tae Kwon Do and Zumba classes. We struggle with what to do with a building that is Grade 2-listed and showing increasing signs of being 104 years-old, but increasingly rely on God's strength to get us through.
Alongside Wesley Hall, my only consistent 'charge' over the 8 year, I have cared for congregations at Stanwood for 6 years, Rivelin Glen & Stannington for 5 years, Walkley for 2 years and Dungworth for 1 year. Each have had their own opportunities and challenges, yet remain cheerful. For the last 2 years Wesley Hall & Walkley have functioned as one church, sharing a church council but retaining their separate buildings and worshipping communities. We are still working out the implications of this for both communities, but it has been good to share in mission, worship and fellowship over the past 2 years.
So, 20 years of outreach, mission, ministry, worship, frustration, sadness and joy; sharing Christ with God's people within and outside the church building and the church community. And after 20 years, if I'm honest, I don't really think I'd rather be anywhere else (though I would be lying if I said I'm not tempted on an almost daily basis to pack it all in!) Only God really knows where the next 20 years will take me - I hope, by God's grace, to still be active then
Following 3 years training in Bristol, the first 6 years were spent in post-industrial County Durham, in the town of Stanley. Well, I call it a town - that's how it seemed to me when I arrived there fresh from college - but I soon discovered that it was more of a collection of pit villages, each with their own particular identity and each lacking the one thing that gave them that identity - the pit. These had closed back in the 1970s, but their shadow still hung heavily in the air and in the hearts and lives of the people.
Methodism in County Durham is, to all intents and purposes, the established church: it was easier to start a Methodist Society as these communities were being built than it was to establish an Anglican parish. Consequently, if people didn't go to church there it was the Methodist Church they didn't go to - unless they needed a christening, a wedding (often after the second christening) or a funeral. So, my time there was largely spent on what were laughingly called 'occasional offices', making many contacts with the 'unchurched', but having very little time to develop those contacts as a fresh 'batch' came along with at times alarming regularity. I averaged 20 Weddings a year, around 60 christenings ('wet' and 'dry'), and roughly 80 funerals: many opportunities to 'sow the seed' of the gospel, but little time for harvest.
After 6 years, and having guided one of the churches through their centenary celebrations, I moved from Stanley to Wetherby in West Yorkshire - only about 10 miles from home - to take charge of 3 churches there. Sociologically a very different appointment, in that Wetherby is, in many areas, a lot more affluent a place, with the consequent challenges that that brings in ministry terms. Together we saw in the new millennium and explored new ways of worship and of doing and being church - explorations that did not come without issues, in-fighting and insensitivity - from me as well as them. I learned a lot about people and about ministry there, but not without considerable cost to my soul and my psyche at times.
The Wetherby years were also the time when I spent a lot of time engaged in Chaplaincy. Alongside the 3 churches I had care of, I was also the Free Churches chaplain at HMYOI Wetherby. This not only provided many opportunities to engage these young lads in conversations about important issues, but also to introduce them to stories that had been a part of my life almost from the beginning. There is a particular joy to being able to tell the story of the Prodigal Son to a 17 year-old lad for the first time and to see the recognition in his face as he reflects with you on its timeless qualities. In contrast to the work in the prison, I was also chaplain to 35 (Wetherby) Squadron of the Air Training Corps: a generally motivated bunch of young people, more or less the same age as the YOIs. No generation can be stereotyped: hopefully all generations can be given hope and purpose for their lives.
And so, in 2004, to Sheffield. For the last 8 years I have been minister of Wesley Hall, Crookes, a large Methodist Chapel with a relatively small congregation, sitting in the shadow of one of the largest Anglican churches in the country (St Thomas' Crookes). In that time we have together sought to catch a vision for our place in that community, and to develop Wesley Hall as a focus for many activities in the Crookes area. From there we reach out to young families through the Toddler Group, to the elderly with the Lunch Club, and to young lads through Boy's Brigade. Our buildings are used by MENCAP to house offices, by choirs and opera groups, for Tae Kwon Do and Zumba classes. We struggle with what to do with a building that is Grade 2-listed and showing increasing signs of being 104 years-old, but increasingly rely on God's strength to get us through.
Alongside Wesley Hall, my only consistent 'charge' over the 8 year, I have cared for congregations at Stanwood for 6 years, Rivelin Glen & Stannington for 5 years, Walkley for 2 years and Dungworth for 1 year. Each have had their own opportunities and challenges, yet remain cheerful. For the last 2 years Wesley Hall & Walkley have functioned as one church, sharing a church council but retaining their separate buildings and worshipping communities. We are still working out the implications of this for both communities, but it has been good to share in mission, worship and fellowship over the past 2 years.
So, 20 years of outreach, mission, ministry, worship, frustration, sadness and joy; sharing Christ with God's people within and outside the church building and the church community. And after 20 years, if I'm honest, I don't really think I'd rather be anywhere else (though I would be lying if I said I'm not tempted on an almost daily basis to pack it all in!) Only God really knows where the next 20 years will take me - I hope, by God's grace, to still be active then
Thursday, 5 April 2012
O Bread of Life - a Communion Hymn for Easter
Preparing for worship on Easter Day I was looking for a hymn to lead us into Communion and couldn't find the right one. So I decided to try and put into words what I was looking for, and this is what I wrote.
Do please let me know what you think, and do feel free to use it if you wish. I simply ask that you acknowledge the source.
O Bread of Life, our hands are lying open
To share these tokens of your boundless love;
Your life-blood spilled; your body torn and broken:
The gift of life for us from heaven above.
O Word of Life, our ears are waiting, open
To hear your message spoken to our heart:
The great Good News of death’s dominion broken;
Of lives set free; of joy in every part.
Spirit of Life, our hearts are yearning, open
To feel the flame of love burning within.
Come, fill us now, renewing lives once broken:
The risen life of Christ in us begin.
© 2012 John L Simms
Tune: Intercessor [11.10.11.10]
Saturday, 24 December 2011
A Night Like No Other
This is something I wrote a number of years ago now, when our boys were very small. I hope it still speaks.
The gifts are all wrapped - well, most of them
prepared for the assault of tiny fingers (and not so tiny);
the shops are closed - well, most of them
preparing for the onslaught of the sales;
the children are asleep - well, most of them
awaiting what the morning will bring,
and leaving the parents wondering when that morning will begin.
Our attempts to placate the insistent and the persistent,
our expressions of affection and gratitude,
our tokens of love,
are presented and await the desired response.
It is Christmas Eve - the night before the morning after
and the air is thickening with anticipation;
it is a night like no other.
What's he bringing you?
You'd better be good, or he won't come!
I hope we've not forgotten anyone!
In a draughty shed,
a young girl tries to feed and comfort her Son,
only a few hours old.
Behind her, her fiancé tries to find enough clean straw
to line the feeding trough that will double as a cot
for tonight at least.
Outside the early morning sounds of the city clamour to be heard
soon the light will be here, the day will have come.
No, the Light has already come.
The One Who caused the light,
Who brings the light,
Who is The Light,
is there in the stable
in the arms of a teenage mother.
The Day has already come;
that for which so many had hoped,
and dreamed,
and longed,
and prayed has arrived.
The Gift that all need,
but so few want,
is there, gift-wrapped in swaddling cloths,
but still waiting for a tree.
The pleading of the insistent and persistent has been heard by the Father
their needs have been met;
the greatest expression of affection and token of love is there,
awaiting eager hands to grasp it and claim it and own it,
for their name is there, written in the palms of His hands.
And the Father is waiting to see the look on our faces.
Copyright © John L Simms 1994
A Night like no other - A Meditation on the Eve of Christmas
The gifts are all wrapped - well, most of them
prepared for the assault of tiny fingers (and not so tiny);
the shops are closed - well, most of them
preparing for the onslaught of the sales;
the children are asleep - well, most of them
awaiting what the morning will bring,
and leaving the parents wondering when that morning will begin.
Our attempts to placate the insistent and the persistent,
our expressions of affection and gratitude,
our tokens of love,
are presented and await the desired response.
It is Christmas Eve - the night before the morning after
and the air is thickening with anticipation;
it is a night like no other.
What's he bringing you?
You'd better be good, or he won't come!
I hope we've not forgotten anyone!
In a draughty shed,
a young girl tries to feed and comfort her Son,
only a few hours old.
Behind her, her fiancé tries to find enough clean straw
to line the feeding trough that will double as a cot
for tonight at least.
Outside the early morning sounds of the city clamour to be heard
soon the light will be here, the day will have come.
No, the Light has already come.
The One Who caused the light,
Who brings the light,
Who is The Light,
is there in the stable
in the arms of a teenage mother.
The Day has already come;
that for which so many had hoped,
and dreamed,
and longed,
and prayed has arrived.
The Gift that all need,
but so few want,
is there, gift-wrapped in swaddling cloths,
but still waiting for a tree.
The pleading of the insistent and persistent has been heard by the Father
their needs have been met;
the greatest expression of affection and token of love is there,
awaiting eager hands to grasp it and claim it and own it,
for their name is there, written in the palms of His hands.
And the Father is waiting to see the look on our faces.
Copyright © John L Simms 1994
Tuesday, 22 November 2011
"Sing and make music..."
I was prompted to think about music and musicians this morning, as I was reminded that today is the Feast of St Cecilia, the Patron of Church music.
Music is a very important part of my life. I don't think a day goes by when I don't listen to music, and thanks to the wonders of digital technology I can now carry my music collection with me wherever I go, and listen (almost) at will. Music can aid relaxation, or can stir one to action. My tastes are diverse, with everything from Bach to the Beatles, from Stravinsky to the Sex Pistols, and from Miles Davis to Iron Maiden. My particular predilection is for Progressive Rock, from the 1970s to today - the great thing about Prog is that it keeps on evolving and pushing the boundaries, which can only be good in the end, as fresh musical expression is found.
Music has the ability to lift the soul, to raise the spirits, and to burrow truth and beauty deep into the psyche. Charles Wesley, through his hymns, used popular music of his day as a way to teach Christian doctrine to those who couldn't read the Bible. At this time of year, as Christmas approaches, I'm always amazed at the ability of music to stir memories of times past, and to bring Scripture to mind. Handel's wonderful combination of stirring music and Old Testament prophecy in 'Messiah' is just one example - I cannot read those words without hearing his melodies: the two for me are now intertwined.
I belong to a Christians tradition that was 'born in song': worship just doesn't seem like worship to me if it doesn't include singing. Having spent the last weekend away on a course it seemed really odd for the times of worship in which we shared to be non-musical. That's part of who I am. St Paul (if 'twas he) urged the Ephesian Christians to 'speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your hearts to the Lord' [Eph 5:19] and that, to me, is the most natural expression of devotion and worship.
I found the following quote in Butler's 'Lives of the Saints'. At the end of the chapter on Cecilia, he writes:
Music is a very important part of my life. I don't think a day goes by when I don't listen to music, and thanks to the wonders of digital technology I can now carry my music collection with me wherever I go, and listen (almost) at will. Music can aid relaxation, or can stir one to action. My tastes are diverse, with everything from Bach to the Beatles, from Stravinsky to the Sex Pistols, and from Miles Davis to Iron Maiden. My particular predilection is for Progressive Rock, from the 1970s to today - the great thing about Prog is that it keeps on evolving and pushing the boundaries, which can only be good in the end, as fresh musical expression is found.
Music has the ability to lift the soul, to raise the spirits, and to burrow truth and beauty deep into the psyche. Charles Wesley, through his hymns, used popular music of his day as a way to teach Christian doctrine to those who couldn't read the Bible. At this time of year, as Christmas approaches, I'm always amazed at the ability of music to stir memories of times past, and to bring Scripture to mind. Handel's wonderful combination of stirring music and Old Testament prophecy in 'Messiah' is just one example - I cannot read those words without hearing his melodies: the two for me are now intertwined.
I belong to a Christians tradition that was 'born in song': worship just doesn't seem like worship to me if it doesn't include singing. Having spent the last weekend away on a course it seemed really odd for the times of worship in which we shared to be non-musical. That's part of who I am. St Paul (if 'twas he) urged the Ephesian Christians to 'speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your hearts to the Lord' [Eph 5:19] and that, to me, is the most natural expression of devotion and worship.
I found the following quote in Butler's 'Lives of the Saints'. At the end of the chapter on Cecilia, he writes:
"As to music as an amusement, too much time must never be given to it; and extreme care ought to be taken... that children be not set to learn it very young, because it is a thing which bewitches the senses, dissipates the mind exceedingly, and alienates it from serious studies, as daily experience shows. Soft and effeminate music is to be always shunned with abhorrence, as the corrupter of the heart and the poison of virtue."I'm not sure I could agree with any of that. What do you think?
- How important is music to you in your life?
- How important is it to you in your devotions?
- John Miles wrote: 'To live without my music would be impossible to do'. Do you agree?
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Ye Servants of God
Over the last 3 months we have seen in Britain the passing of three of our most insightful theologians. The Church Militant has benefited greatly from their thoughts and their words, and now the Church Triumphant is blessed by their presence.
John Stott was an Anglican Evangelical Church leader who helped the Church throughout the world to grasp a fuller understanding of the nature of the Christian gospel. As one of the authors of the Lausanne Covenant in the 1970s he helped the evangelical wing of the church to see that salvation wasn't just about the soul of the individual believer, but about social caring and the struggle for justice. Many thousands of new Christians were grounded in their faith through reading 'Basic Christianity'; many more came to a fuller understanding of the Cross through reading 'The Cross of Christ'; and yet more were helped in their discipleship in an increasingly pluralistic society and through the decline of Christendom through his work with the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity, and books such as 'Issues Facing Christians Today' and 'The Contemporary Christian'. Stott was instrumental in guiding Evangelicals out from the margins of the church and into a position where they now have considerable influence.
Kingsley Barrett was one of the leading New Testament scholars of the 20th Century. His commentaries on John's Gospel, the Acts of the Apostles, and Paul's letters to the Romans & Corinthians have become seminal works in Biblical Studies. But Barrett is remembered just as much by some for his passionate commitment to the Methodist people. He was a strong critic of the stalled unity scheme with the Church of England in the 1960s, and quickly became the unofficial spokesman for the 'Voice of Methodism' that grew up as a reaction to the unity talks. But what impressed me most about him was his willingness - indeed his love - of preaching not in the 'big' University pulpits of Durham but in the small mining village chapels, where he preached in down-to-earth language about the Jesus he not only studied but whom he loved and served.
Angela Shier-Jones may not be as well-known in the wider church as the two above, but she was no less of a great scholar and theologian. Angela cared deeply about her Methodist heritage, and longed for people to understand and live out the inherent inclusivity of Wesleyan Arminian theology. Her writings demonstrate her passion, and her desire to make that heritage relevant to contemporary discipleship. Angela was, at times, the grit in the oyster of Methodism, irritating (in the positive sense) to produce pearls of great wisdom and insight. Her blog 'The Kneeler' was a vehicle for her to vent some of her frustration and anger with her beloved Methodist Church, but always with a loving and prophetic edge.
The Church today is the richer for the wisdom and devotion of these saints and servants of Christ. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.
John Stott was an Anglican Evangelical Church leader who helped the Church throughout the world to grasp a fuller understanding of the nature of the Christian gospel. As one of the authors of the Lausanne Covenant in the 1970s he helped the evangelical wing of the church to see that salvation wasn't just about the soul of the individual believer, but about social caring and the struggle for justice. Many thousands of new Christians were grounded in their faith through reading 'Basic Christianity'; many more came to a fuller understanding of the Cross through reading 'The Cross of Christ'; and yet more were helped in their discipleship in an increasingly pluralistic society and through the decline of Christendom through his work with the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity, and books such as 'Issues Facing Christians Today' and 'The Contemporary Christian'. Stott was instrumental in guiding Evangelicals out from the margins of the church and into a position where they now have considerable influence.
Kingsley Barrett was one of the leading New Testament scholars of the 20th Century. His commentaries on John's Gospel, the Acts of the Apostles, and Paul's letters to the Romans & Corinthians have become seminal works in Biblical Studies. But Barrett is remembered just as much by some for his passionate commitment to the Methodist people. He was a strong critic of the stalled unity scheme with the Church of England in the 1960s, and quickly became the unofficial spokesman for the 'Voice of Methodism' that grew up as a reaction to the unity talks. But what impressed me most about him was his willingness - indeed his love - of preaching not in the 'big' University pulpits of Durham but in the small mining village chapels, where he preached in down-to-earth language about the Jesus he not only studied but whom he loved and served.
Angela Shier-Jones may not be as well-known in the wider church as the two above, but she was no less of a great scholar and theologian. Angela cared deeply about her Methodist heritage, and longed for people to understand and live out the inherent inclusivity of Wesleyan Arminian theology. Her writings demonstrate her passion, and her desire to make that heritage relevant to contemporary discipleship. Angela was, at times, the grit in the oyster of Methodism, irritating (in the positive sense) to produce pearls of great wisdom and insight. Her blog 'The Kneeler' was a vehicle for her to vent some of her frustration and anger with her beloved Methodist Church, but always with a loving and prophetic edge.
The Church today is the richer for the wisdom and devotion of these saints and servants of Christ. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Camping it up?
I may be being a little premature here, but it seems, due to the lack of reports from the Antipodes of major cataclysm or of missing persons, that the much-heralded (in some quarters) Rapture has not begun - not yet anyhow.
Harold Camping, an octogenarian Pastor from the United States had declared that, through his study of Scripture, he is absolutely certain that the Rapture - the return of Jesus to Earth and the taking up of true believers to be with him in the air as the opening scene of Judgement Day - would take place at around 18:00 today 21st May 2011. Apparently this would be a rolling event, beginning in New Zealand and ending in Western Samoa over a 24-hour period (so at least those of us in the West would get advanced notice - how thoughtful!).
He had come up with this date, as I say, through careful and prolonged study of the Bible. He had, of course, come up with a date in 1994 through the same study methods, so maybe we shouldn't be surprised that he may have made a miscalculation again. The problem as I see it is that he seems to be treating the Bible as if it has some kind of hidden, coded message in it, that only certain people can decipher. Now that sounds like Gnosticism to me, and I thought that mainstream Christianity had written that off as heresy centuries ago.
The Bible is not some code that needs deciphering. It is a record of God's dealings with humanity and humanity's struggling with and searching for God over the course of a couple of thousand years, and it has been and is a means by which humanity has continued to struggle with and search for meaning and purpose in life. For those of us of the Judeao-Christian tradition it is a means by which God reveals God's nature and God's will to humanity: not in some hidden way but clearly and plainly, chiefly through the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth, whom the Bible reveals to be Messiah - the Christ, the Anointed of God - and the Son of God. And in one of his clearest statements Jesus is recorded as saying, of his own return: "No-one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father." [Matthew 25:36 NIV]
His message was not one of 'you must escape this wicked world' but one of 'the Kingdom of God is among you'. It was a message of affirming life on Earth, not writing it off for some 'pie in the sky when you die'. It was a message of bringing dignity and worth to all humanity, irrespective of social status, culture, race, gender or sexuality. It was a message of transforming this world, not escaping to the next one.
That is the clear message of the Bible. You don't need special teaching to understand that: you simply need to offer yourself to a relationship of trust with the one who declared himself to be 'The Way, The Truth and The Life', who came that we might have life, in all its fullness, now, today, here, in this world.
Now to me that makes so much more sense than any of Camping's ramblings.
Harold Camping, an octogenarian Pastor from the United States had declared that, through his study of Scripture, he is absolutely certain that the Rapture - the return of Jesus to Earth and the taking up of true believers to be with him in the air as the opening scene of Judgement Day - would take place at around 18:00 today 21st May 2011. Apparently this would be a rolling event, beginning in New Zealand and ending in Western Samoa over a 24-hour period (so at least those of us in the West would get advanced notice - how thoughtful!).
He had come up with this date, as I say, through careful and prolonged study of the Bible. He had, of course, come up with a date in 1994 through the same study methods, so maybe we shouldn't be surprised that he may have made a miscalculation again. The problem as I see it is that he seems to be treating the Bible as if it has some kind of hidden, coded message in it, that only certain people can decipher. Now that sounds like Gnosticism to me, and I thought that mainstream Christianity had written that off as heresy centuries ago.
The Bible is not some code that needs deciphering. It is a record of God's dealings with humanity and humanity's struggling with and searching for God over the course of a couple of thousand years, and it has been and is a means by which humanity has continued to struggle with and search for meaning and purpose in life. For those of us of the Judeao-Christian tradition it is a means by which God reveals God's nature and God's will to humanity: not in some hidden way but clearly and plainly, chiefly through the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth, whom the Bible reveals to be Messiah - the Christ, the Anointed of God - and the Son of God. And in one of his clearest statements Jesus is recorded as saying, of his own return: "No-one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father." [Matthew 25:36 NIV]
His message was not one of 'you must escape this wicked world' but one of 'the Kingdom of God is among you'. It was a message of affirming life on Earth, not writing it off for some 'pie in the sky when you die'. It was a message of bringing dignity and worth to all humanity, irrespective of social status, culture, race, gender or sexuality. It was a message of transforming this world, not escaping to the next one.
That is the clear message of the Bible. You don't need special teaching to understand that: you simply need to offer yourself to a relationship of trust with the one who declared himself to be 'The Way, The Truth and The Life', who came that we might have life, in all its fullness, now, today, here, in this world.
Now to me that makes so much more sense than any of Camping's ramblings.
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