A kind of immortality

Once of the things I always do at Christmas is make my own mince pies.  There’s something about homemade pastry that means that shop-bought ones never really come close.  I’ve always managed to make good pastry because I use a food processor (cookery tip: over-handling pastry, especially when you’ve got hot hands like me, makes it tough and nasty).  And there’s a story attached to the food processor.

Eighteen years ago when we moved to Ruddington to begin Mike’s first pastorate, a friend of my in-laws named Hertha gave me a generous gift.  She gave me some money and said “You’ll be doing a lot of entertaining as a minister’s wife so buy yourself something that will make that easier.”  I bought a food processor and it has chopped, sliced, diced, minced, blended and mixed every year since.  In particular, every Christmas it has made the batches of flaky, buttery pastry that I have made into mince pies for seasonal church events and socials.  Hertha died more than fifteen years ago, but every year I have remembered and thanked her again, because without her generosity the making of over a hundred mince pies would have been an impossible chore.  This autumn the food processor gave up the ghost and was replaced by a shiny new model.  I have just made my pastry and remembered her thoughtful generosity again.  Now that’s a good kind of immortality.

When Worlds Collide

My reading pleasure has been considerable enhanced this summer by working my way through the Wallander books by Henning Mankell.  I do like a bit of good detective fiction.  For those who don't know the novels are set in a town in southern Sweden.

Another pleasure in my life is the occasional trip to the Swedish Temple to budget home furnishing IKEA.  There is much amusement about the naming of the products with many people giggling in a childish way about whether they are rude.  According to this:

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ikea#Product_names

There is meaning and significance to the names.  And this is whee the worlds collide...there I am reading a novel when my mind suddenly thinks "That's that cushion with flowers on, not the island where a young women has been chopped up by a crazed lunatic!"  It works the other way too...I handed my husband a plastic bag and said "That's the town Wallander lives in".  To say he was baffled would be an understatement.

Given that I have the kind of memory that hangs on to useless information, such as IKEA product names, or places in books, I wonder what sort of weird neural contortions my brain is having to perform to make connections between these two lists???

For this I have Jesus

I went to a dear friend’s funeral yesterday, and as you’d expect for funerals for those who die before they are “rich in years” it was not a great day.  It was in the sense of seeing old friends and celebrating the life of a very nice man, but it would have even nicer if he had been there with us.  One of the songs we sang is this one by Graham Kendrick:

For the joys and for the sorrows
The best and worst of times
For this moment, for tomorrow
For all that lies behind
Fears that crowd around me
For the failure of my plans
For the dreams of all I hope to be
The truth of what I am

For this I have Jesus
For this I have Jesus
For this I have Jesus, I have Jesus
(Repeat)

For the tears that flow in secret
In the broken times
For the moments of elation
Or the troubled mind
For all the disappointments
Or the sting of old regrets
All my prayers and longings
That seem unanswered yet

For the weakness of my body
The burdens of each day
For the nights of doubt and worry
When sleep has fled away
Needing reassurance
And the will to start again
A steely-eyed endurance
The strength to fight and win

Graham Kendrick  Copyright © 1994 Make Way Music, 

It was particularly apt because the friend had battled for many years with depression and it seemed to me that this song, which in the face of it is rather bleak, seemed appropriate.  It’s very hard, when all life throws you is a dried out and rather mouldy lemon, to have some cheery soul yelling at you to make lemonade.  It’s even worse when they tell you that you should make lemonade because that’s what Jesus would do!  And the agony is piled on when they tell you that we can make lemonade because Jesus has the victory!!!  Yes it is true that Jesus does have the victory but when you’re sitting in the dark holding the nasty lemon it has a bit of a hollow ring to it (the sentiment, not the lemon)

The problem with the victory rhetoric is that it distances us from Jesus, rather than drawing us towards him.  The words of this song could apply to things in my life, but they don’t connect with a victorious Jesus who can’t relate to any of this.  But if you look at the words again I think you could imagine Jesus recognising them from his experience of human life.  The grief at the death of Lazarus, the frustration at people who refused to hear his message, the fear in the face of physical abuse, and the weight of responsibility for saving the world.  Jesus spent time feeling lost and abandoned by his friends, rejected and cast out.  This is the incarnation: that Jesus is not a distant remote God who looks on us dispassionately while we suffer.  Instead he is the Word who “…became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighbourhood.” 

My friend’s experience was often bleak; he was a very intelligent man so he wasn’t able to not ask tough questions of God, but the testimony of his friends yesterday was that he never lost his faith, and because of what Jesus did in moving into his rather gloomy neighbourhood, and the testimony of my friend’s life of witness to the truth of it we were able to say “For this we have Jesus”

Disney Princesses

If you know me you’ll know that I am a feminist.  This means there are certain things that, as Peter Griffin would say, grind my gears.  One of these is the cultural phenomenon of Disney Princesses, and, in fact, the wider world of Disney-ness.  Because I have some antipathy towards it I’m not particularly well versed in the wacky world of impossibly tiny waists, large but strangely asexual bosoms and bizarre coloured but always long and flowing hair that is Disney Princess world.  I’m troubled that princesses are portrayed as helpless and infantilised, in need of a usually male rescuer and only get that because they are beautiful.  It must be hard being a really unattractive Disney princess, doomed to spend your life up a tower, fast asleep, enslaved to a witch or whatever, simply because you were unlucky enough to have been born with mousy frizzy hair, or a less than retroussé nose.  Heaven help you if you’ve got a flat chest or child bearing calves!!!

You might wonder why I have suddenly felt the need to get in such an unfeminine tizzy about this, but it’s because of Mike Pilavachi!  Well, not him personally, but rather Soul Survivor.  This year the fancy dress theme was announced as Disney and people were encouraged to dress up as Disney characters.  Why do we yet again lay these unhelpful images on our girls and young women?  The only Disney film I come anywhere near liking is Mulan, because she shows some spirit and takes on a man’s world and wins.  But even that is ultimately disappointing because in the end she goes home to become a daughter, a wife, and presumably a mother, even though she was offered a top job in government.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing dishonourable about being a wife and mother, I’m both, but couldn’t she have had a crack at running China first?  Surely, Soul Survivor, you could have come up with a theme that doesn’t so easily separate and stereotype boys and girls, a theme that encouraged creativity and fun, without putting so much pressure on the girls to be beautiful and passive, and the boys to be manly and covered in six-packs and strong jaws. 

It's a numbers game

I’m reading this at the moment:


http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gospel-Driven-Church-Retrieving-Ministries-Contemporary/dp/184227290X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1300798109&sr=8-1

and I say AMEN to his critique of our obsession with numbers as the only measure of success in church life. We need to remember, as Mark Yaconelli pointed out, that Jesus only discipled 12 people, and one of them handed him over to be killed and another pretended he didn't know who Jesus was. In the end he died alone because they all ran off. This is true gospel success.

So here's a challenge to my youth ministry friends: try to stop using numbers when you talk about your work. It's very difficult because even if you can stop yourself it's very difficult when that's the only question other people ask you about what you do. And the next hard step is to stop asking your youth ministry friends how many come to their groups.

This is something I’ve been trying to do for a while and I have found it very difficult. That in itself is interesting. What is it in me that wants to boast of bigger? When someone does it to me I feel belittled and inadequate, or superior and puffed up, so why do I want to do that to someone else? And why do I speak about my ministry as God’s work, but if I have a big number to boast of, suddenly feel like it’s because of my own ability as a youth minister? It’s also very challenging when you talk to another youth minister and they ask “So how many do you get to that club” to look them in the eye and say “a good crowd” or “Some nice young people”. Why does refusing to say a number feel like such a subversive act? Maybe youth workers should practice it as a Lenten discipline.

Stackhouse argues that it’s a product of revivalist theology (he makes a very good argument; I would urge you to read the book). I agree with his thinking, but would also add for youth ministers two more pressures. Firstly, the secular model of youth work that demands quantitative data about youth work, rather than thinking about quality, has filtered into Christian youth ministry, particularly those of us who are professionally qualified and paid by churches. And that’s the second pressure; churches who see the youth minister’s job as filling the church, so who look for the proverbial “bums on seats” rather than the quality of discipleship, who see their youth worker lurking in coffee shops rather than herding great crowds of young people through the baptismal pool, and wonder if they are getting value for money.

It seems to me that that the numbers game, however it arises, is based on shaky ideas of what christian faith is, and more importantly, who young people and youth workers are. Fundamentally a young person, or a youth worker, is created in the image of God, and therefore is a unique, individual creation. When what is done with, to, for, or at this young person is looked at through a lens of numerical success, this image is distorted, because they become an object to be counted, not a person to be related to. This is why Jesus was so subversive; he wouldn’t conform to the pressure to achieve success. Every time it was offered to him he turned away from it. The story of his temptation that we reflect on during Lent is an example of this. If Jesus was a youth worker today, the Devil would say to him, “Bow down to me and I’ll give you a really big youth group”. Instead he prioritised people as individuals, meeting them in their need, sharing their pain and challenging them to a life of discipleship. This kind of work happens at meal tables, in coffee shops, walking along together, in sitting rooms, not in vast crowds where nobody knows anybody, but somebody knows the numbers.

Venice

Venice by Jan Morris


http://www.amazon.co.uk/Venice-New-revised-Jan-Morris/dp/0571168973/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1288207862&sr=8-1

I have just finished this wonderful book and I can’t tell you how many times I nearly cried at the beauty of the writing about a city that makes me cry because to me it is the most beautiful place on earth.

The charm of the book was that Morris obviously loves the city as much as I do and is able to write about it in ways that illuminate that love and which broaden my knowledge of it. She writes about the history of the place and its people, the art, the culture, the geography and in a way that is never dull. She backs up her grand historical statements with her knowledge of specific Venetian people she knew when she lived there.

I don’t often consider going on holiday with total strangers but my perfect holiday would be going to Venice with Jan Morris. She would be a knowledgeable guide and a witty and fun companion in this magical place.

Friendship

Twenty two years ago when I first became a Christian I found myself with nowhere to go at Christmas and a friend sent me to stay with a friend of theirs called Meg.  Meg has four children and the whole family welcomed me without question and drew me into their Christmas with their extended family.  We became good friends and when I married Meg sang (beautifully) at our wedding.  As life got busier we didn’t see each other much but kept in touch with Christmas cards.  Yesterday we finally got together after 17 years, and took up almost straight from where we left off.

About 8 years ago we had pet rats and I joined an online community for rat-lovers (It’s true, the internet has a community for everyone).   I learned a lot about caring for rats and made friends with Scarletdemon, a fellow Brit in a mainly american community.  We enjoyed a similar sense of humour and didn’t take ourselves or our rats too seriously.  We’ve stayed in touch online through various blogs and this year she finally gave in and got into Facebook.  After years of virtual friendship we arranged to meet IRL (in real life) so met up in a city between where we live.   The friendship is the same as it is on-line.  We had some laughs, we talked about our lives and commiserated with each other about some of the not so good stuff. 

A couple of weeks ago I was at a conference, and over the last lunch I got talking to someone who I’d seen all week but hadn’t met before.  We went from total strangers to sharing some very significant stuff over an extra portion of Banoffee Pie.  We’re meeting up for coffee and more cake and I think we’ll be friends.

Then there are a couple of other women I’m becoming friends with who are, like me, in Baptist ministry, and we’ve shared the trials and joys this brings.

I never used to be very good at friendship; the mechanics of keeping up contact with someone seemed to elude me (sorry Meg) and I suspect I was too much into my own struggles to notice that other people might want or need friendship with me.  But now I’ve made a decision to be more intentional about making and keeping good friends – it will take some effort on my part but it already feels worth it.  One of my college teachers talked about seeking out what brings you life, and this may be part of that for me.  Being with people who I care about and who care about me, people who share similar struggles and enjoy similar things is life giving, and that feels good.

And now I’m off to ring another friend I haven’t spoken to in a while.

This is just about the greatest invention EVAH!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LucyPhone

This is a service that you use when you want to ring a call centre.  You ring the call centre on your mobile, and when they put you on hold you key "**" and the LucyPhone service disconnects you from the call centre but sits on hold for you.  As soon as the bank/travel company/service centre person comes back on the line they hear a holding message from LucyPhone asking them to hold while Lucyphone rings you back and connect you.  Now, I don't actually believe in it but if that isn't Karma I don't know what is! 

This has considerably cheered up a quite mundane Thursday.

p.s. I don't know if the service is available in the UK, but if it is it's free, and if it isn't I'm just happy to know that somewhere this is happening :-)

Coracle Time

I’ve not blogged for the last couple of weeks because I’ve been busy getting things ready so I could go away on my annual retreat with a clear desk and conscience. I managed it and so I’ve been on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne off the coast of Northumberland for the last four days. This retreat has become part of my annual pattern and has been enormously helpful for the three times I’ve been on it.

This year we were invited at the beginning of the time to reflect on the story of St. Brendan, who would put to sea in a very small boat called a coracle, and then allow the Holy Spirit to take him wherever he wanted. We were encouraged to put our retreat time into God’s hands and follow where he led. Since I went with no sense of an agenda this was a helpful start.

One of the significant activities of this retreat is to walk across the sands to the island at low tide, following the route the ancient pilgrims would have taken. This route is marked by tall wooden poles, and punctuated by two towers topped with shelters, for those who get caught by the incoming tide. We were encouraged to reflect on what the marker posts are for us; the things in our lives by which we steer, the things that occur that provide a route and mark our movement. Spiritual disciplines and a rhythm of life might be examples of these. And then we thought about the shelters; the places we go to when life might overtake us, and we all need to identify people or places that might be this to us.

However, my reflection on the towers is that they also allow perspective. They are raised up above the route and enabled me to look back at how far I have come in the last year, where I wandered off the path, when the journey was going well. They helped me to get a wider sense of the lie of the land and see how far I’ve still got to go, both personally and in my work, and what the direction of the future journey might be.

The problem then is that I then have to climb down the ladder from the shelter and set off walking towards the next pole in the line, through some rather sticky mud! And I can’t see the rest of the poles from down at ground level, or the point where the pilgrim’s route reaches the island. Never mind though, I’ve seen that the poles go all the way to the end, and that there’s another shelter not too far ahead. And I’m surrounded by friends as I travel.

Racism???

So I'm putting together a powerpoint to use during a worship time based on Genesis 1 (I'm actually using Rob Lacey's reading of his Street Bible which is really good) and I want to put together some pictures to illustrate human beings, made in God's image, and commanded to "make babies" so my first stop is Google images and I put in 'baby' and I get a page of white babies, apart from one pic of asian conjoined twins. Then it's not until page 4 when another baby that is not white appears, and it's premature baby, and the conjoined babies again???

I don't know how google's search engine works but I'd love to hear an explanation of why this might be?

What is truth?

As an adherent of a world religion (christianity) this is an important question. Is the bible true? Is it true that Jesus rose from the dead? What does Jesus mean when he says he is "The way, the truth and the life"?

The latter questions seem to hinge on how you answer the first; if the collection of words we call the bible is only a man made set of myths with no connection to any historical reality then the answers to the second two questions might be different. So if we say the bible is true, how is it true? Is it true like the news is true? Which news do you mean? The BBC or Fox, or the newsletter I got from a political party in May? And which bits of the bible are we wanting to call true? the historical narratives might be true, but what truth is there in a song of worship such as a Psalm?

If we want the historical narratives of Jesus' life to be true how are they true? Are they unbiased reports from dispassionate observers with perfect recall and photographic memories? or are they something else in which fact and interpretation are so closely intertwined you can't separate them.

I'm reading "New Testament Interpretation" by Ian Boxall, and "Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places" by Eugene Peterson. Boxall points out that even the people who first observed the man Jesus and made a memory of what they had seen were already interpreting it and seeing it differently from others who had seen the same thing. I was at a meeting a couple of evenings ago; someone said something about a situation and I heard her concern and irritation with that situation in what she said and the way she said it. The following morning, someone else who had been at the meeting commented in a way that suggested she'd heard something quite different. I'm fascinated by that because everyone is telling the truth, as they see it, but we've already got three versions, and probably another one each for all the other people at the meeting. Imagine how many versions there must have been of the feeding of the five thousand!

Then we take our experience and we use words to communicate it but the words we use are inadequate to describe everything that went on, they only stand for the reality of what they describe, they aren't the reality of it. Peterson discusses the doctrine of the Trinity, describing it as a map of the country of God, but not God himself. It's related to the country and enables us to explore it, but it isn't the thing itself.

Sometimes the words we use are blatantly lies. Jesus did this a lot, except we call them parables. There was no specific rich man who sold everything he had to buy the pearl of great price, so this isn't a true story. But there is so much truth in it because it cuts to the heart of what Jesus was teaching about the Kingdom of God. There is truth at the core of the Harry Potter universe: the truth that a life laid down willingly because of love can have the power to conquer even death, yet Harry Potter is "only" fiction.

So what is the truth? My answer is that I don't know which bits of the bible are true in a factual sense but there is great truth in there mainly because it points me to the one who called himself the Truth. So my answer to the question is to say it’s the wrong question; the right question is Who is the truth? But these are just my words....

The Battle of the Somme

One of my hobbies is genealogy and in the process of explore my ancestors I discovered that my great grandfather,Joseph Thomson Jackson, died in the slaughter of the first day of the Somme. This battle was supposed to have been the decisive turning point of the war with two huge mines destrying the german lines and allowing the massive british forces to break the line. Unfortunately the mines didn't destroy the german lines so when the british advanced at walking pace they were mown down by machine-gun fire. My great grandfather was in the 4th Battalion Tyneside Scottish regiment. His battalion sustained one of the heaviest casualty rates of the war, and he was one of them.

I had never heard of him until I discovered his name in the course of my researches. He is my mother's father's father, and she never spoke of him. But yet I am strangely moved that this unknown ancestor lived and died as part of this epic struggle. I'm also moved that his wife Mary Rachel was left alone to raise a family in Newcastle, and that she may even have lived to hear the news that her son Lawrence was killed at El-Alamein in 1942.

My views on war are mixed - can we not solve our conflicts in a less wasteful way? Are the british forces in Iraq and Afghanistan really protecting our freedom? But today I take my metaphorical hat off to great grandfather Joseph and his comrades who walked to their deaths in a hail of bullets, and to those who actually serve in Iraq and Afghanistan.

A strange new world...

...and now I'm fiddling about amending my profile and stuff I've discovered the magic that is the random question...which works in a really weird way:

It asks you a question, you answer it, but then you check the box to get a new question, then you save your updates. That results in my question being "what is the best tape to use for sculpture?" to which I appear to have answered "by saying it in a french accent" when in fact I was answer another question entirely????

This could get very surreal...if it hasn't already.

Compliments

Part of my job is to to an all-age slot in the first part of the service on Sunday mornings.

A couple of weeks ago an older member of the congregation told me that my talk was the Mickey Mouse part of the service.

Thanks a lot, I thought to myself.

However, he then elaborated: When he was a small boy he went to the cinema every Saturday morning and the programme included a serial, a western, the main feature and a Mickey Mouse cartoon. He liked Mickey Mouse so he looked forward to that bit the most because it was funny.

I think that's a compliment....

Getting going again

As you can see I've had this blog lying dormant for quite sometime and never done anything with it. However recently I've been reading some good blogs and thought that I might have a go myself. It seemed to me that the mark of a good blog wasn't that it was brilliantly written, or that the content was earth shattering, but that it was interesting to me, so I decided that I would ramble on a bit and if anyone is interested that's good, but if they aren't I'll still have had a forum for rambling. And I do like a bit of a ramble...

Here's a new blog - my first entry