What and where is the narrow gate?

Jesus told us (Matt 7:13) to enter through the narrow gate. To modern ears this seems way too restrictive. People like to keep their options wide open. We are encouraged to see society as a very broad range of ideas and philosophies and religions. Narrowness is bad. Tolerance, variety and wideness is good.

In fact, the Christian faith is about a God who loves all people, young and old, black and white, poor and rich, good and bad. The denomination I belong to places a lot of emphasis on being inclusive. Jesus died for all. The kingdom is freely available to all. The church should be equally accepting of all. The words of Jesus do not contradict any of this. They merely point out that the point of entry into 'life' (by which he surely means 'glorious and fulfilling life as God intends it to be') is a narrow one. An individual's journey will be unique. There are as many ways to relate to God as there are people needing that relationship. But there is a bottleneck along the way. There is a gate through which all pilgrims need to pass. What is it?

Dallas Willard says it is 'obedience' rather than 'correct doctrine'. I agree that Jesus was not saying only people with (the correct) narrow views about God would be able to enter life. There are many whose grasp of theology is somewhat tenuous but who still enjoy the kingdom life Jesus is talking about. I'm less sure that 'doing what Jesus says' is what the narrow gate represents, though I can see how Willard comes to that conclusion in view of the other illustrations and sayings which follow.

Perhaps Jesus was referring to himself as the narrow gate. This would fit in with verses from John's gospel - "I am the gate" or "No-one comes to the Father except through me" - and having a person as the key entry point certainly seems better than a set of rules or even a simple guiding principle. Or maybe Jesus is not intending for the narrow gate to represent anything in particular. Maybe he just wants to stress that the journey to life is not a wide open 'anything goes' trackless plain, but a case of recognising the importance of limitations and focusing on the one thing that matters - the narrow gate.

The personal import of this concept is clear enough: Following a Christmas of fairly happy-go-lucky self-indulgence, I need to apply myself once again to discovering the key person who will lead to real life.

New Week's Resolution #1

On my study door I still have my chart listing the five things I intended to do every day in 2007, namely reading and reflection, pastoral visit, half-hour keeping on top of admin, 20 minute walk and one piece of fruit. The records show that I had success on and off as far as March. This year I have decided on a new approach. Rather than attempt to reform all areas of my life at once, I will concentrate on one aspect at a time. If all goes well, the positive changes in lifestyle will be cumulative rather than merely consecutive. I can use this blog as a public record of my progress, thereby providing a reasonable degree of incentive.

So here is my first new week's resolution: Starting tomorrow, I will be out of bed before 7.00 am each morning.

The best laid plans...

Even though I followed my new resolve to prepare well, there were a handful of hiccoughs in the carol service. After a dramatic and atmospheric start in the pitch dark with me intoning "In the beginning was the Word..." and continuing through 14 memorised verses whilst the candles were lit, followed by a rousing rendition of "O come, all ye faithful", I then slipped into a very matter of fact manner to arrange the lighting levels - "Can Ruth turn on the lights in the chancel? Too much? Can you turn off the strip lights and leave the spots on? Roger, would you mind pressing that switch to turn off the light that's in my eyes? Malcolm, could you turn off the aisle lights? Oh, he's not there - well, whoever is near the back... Hang on, the musicians are complaining - they need that light to see the music. OK is this the right level of lighting? Is everyone happy? Right. On with our second reading..."

In the Lord's Prayer I suddenly found my mouth was not saying anything like "Forgive us our trespasses." I've no idea what I said, but when I realised it was wrong I stopped - and the whole congregational momentum was lost. Over the years I have tried to avoid giving too strong a lead so that if I fluff it the congregation will continue regardless, but my voice on this occasion was clearly too influential.

The final reading was from Philippians 2 and I struggled to find the right place on the page. I began OK at verse 5, but somehow managed to slip back to verse 4 and then added a couple of extra words of my own to bring it back on track at verse 6. No-one noticed.

The brief address was a kind of ironic visual aid where I unwrapped a parcel and discarded the contents to enthuse about the wrapping. Isn't this what Christmas is all about? I speculated. Shouldn't we concentrate on the trimmings? Does it matter if we ignore the gift underneath the wrapping? I had run through this talk several times during the afternoon and the ending still didn't come out anything like I'd practiced. No-one but me would have known.

The other things that went wrong were not my fault - the organist playing an extra verse and the singing group getting muddled with the hand chimes introduction. But all in all everyone said it was a great service. So it just goes to show that even if good preparation is essential, the actual event can contain mistakes and still be well-appreciated.

Should I become a more snappy dresser?

On Friday I had two similar conversations, one with a fellow Street Pastor and one with a friendly Goth. The first was about the importance of looking your best on a Sunday - smart clothes, neatly pressed etc. The second was about buying quality clothing because it makes you feel good about yourself.

Long ago I used to dress quite casually to lead worship, including a pair of worn but comfortable shoes. I didn't think 'me looking smart' was a significant element of my ministry. I was put right by some kind but firm comments from a more experienced preacher. Ever since I have worn a suit (and clean shoes) when leading Sunday worship - except for communion services when I don a cassock.

But I'm still not as careful as I could be about my appearance. Many of my shirts are looking rather the worse for wear and are tight round the collar. (They were made to measure years ago and I can only assume that over time they have shrunk.) Ditto the cassock, which is less comfortable around the waist than it used to be. (I didn't think that belts were capable of shrinking, but mine clearly has.) I do iron a shirt and polish my shoes before the Sunday service but for the rest of the week I get away with as little ironing as possible. Bottom line - it takes more time and effort to look smart than I am prepared to give.

The trouble is that the same attitude spills over into other areas of life. I don't put in the advance preparation because I am comfortable just winging it on the day. I don't feel I have to prove a point by only letting people see me at my best. I'm happy with who I am and confident enough to allow my shabby side to be seen. I don't take time to pray or read the Bible because I already have a good enough grasp of spiritual matters to get by.

I have decided that this attitude is simply not good enough. Not for my own well-being and certainly not for the impact I ought to be making on the world around me. I've got to raise my standards. I've got to aim for higher quality. And if that means putting in the time and effort to prepare well, then so be it.

Starting to feel my age

People always feel younger on the inside than they look on the outside. I have lost count of the number of retired people who say they don't feel any different to when they were 40 or 50. For a long time I have said that I don't feel much different inside to how I was when I was in my 20s. My mental picture of myself is as a student who has only recently left university.

Until yesterday.

When I made this remark in casual conversation it struck me that it is no longer true. I don't think of myself as a young student. I think of myself as a mature adult. How mature? Well perhaps I still feel as if I was in my 40s instead of my true age (fifty and a half). But the young man who did all those silly things is not me any more. I still have a silly sense of humour and I still behave stupidly from time to time, but essentially I am more considerate and responsible than I ever was in my youth. And my relationship with Jesus has changed too. Less idealistic, more honest, less clear-cut, more of a struggle.

So is this a good thing? Yes and no. I am certainly more experienced in ministry and my capabilities as a preacher have developed. (Though I am several light years away from anything like good enough.) But maybe I need to hear the same message as the church in Ephesus - "Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love." (Rev 2:4)

Lord, fan back into flame the embers of my first love for you and then help me to use all my years of development and experience to make the resultant blaze focused and useful.

How to steal from a church

Last night I was explaining to a young lady who has just started coming to our church that we had had the computer and other equipment stolen. She asked, "How can people do that? How can they steal from a church?" Today, whilst walking home from an old persons day centre (where a few of us had been singing carols) I realised there is an easy answer: "By not thinking about the consequences."

The reason this answer came to me was because I found myself not wanting to dwell on the consequences of my appalling keyboard skills. I had cheerfully volunteered to play for the carols and although I hit the right notes most of the time, there were enough wrong notes and enough inappropriately loud notes (the keyboard was sensitive and a heavy left hand resulted in a sudden doyng! every now and then), that it was embarrassing for myself, for the singers who had come to help and for the old folk listening. Eventually R (who had initially refused to play) stepped in and did a perfectly adequate job, thus proving it wasn't the keyboard at fault but the person playing. And yet I do not feel particularly embarrassed. Why not? Because I choose not to think about it. Even now I am only thinking on a superficial level - I don't want to remember just how bad it was. Time to move on to other safer thoughts.

People who steal from church can do so without feelings of guilt by simply not thinking about the problems they have caused to the church members (and in particular our hard-working property secretary) in terms of nuisance, finance and emotional trauma. The moment you think that people are suffering because of something you have done, then you are in big trouble. But if you can decide that their problems are no concern of yours then any guilt will vanish like the morning dew.

No wonder that Paul urges us to "look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others." (Phil 2:4 - which coincidentally is part of the chapter we are looking at in tonight's Bible study.) Thoughtlessness is actually a terrible thing.

Living in Hedonicity

If my spiritual life were expressed in terms of a journey (as in The Pilgrim's Progress), then I have not been making much headway for some time. Instead I am happily ensconced in Hedonicity, a metropolis given over to the pursuit of pleasure. I have stayed well clear of the red light district in this city, but have lingered long in its restaurants, cinemas, libraries and internet cafés. It's a good life here in Hedonicity and I would be happy to stay indefinitely, but I'm supposed to be on a journey and I have a long way to go.

Lord, give me the will-power to shift my focus of attention away from the superficial pleasures of daily life and onto the joy of knowing and serving you. (That prayer was carefully worded. I don't want to give up leisure, but I do want it not to loom so large in my thoughts.)

Strictly Come Dancing - I know how they feel

My title is an exaggeration. I do not dance weekly on live television and then stand there to have my performance analysed by professional judges. Instead I preach weekly in front of a (mostly) live congregation and sometimes receive vaguely-worded feedback on the quality of the service.


Yesterday I felt (a little) like a celebrity who has built up expectations then disappointed the audience with a poor performance. The remembrance service three weeks ago received much unsolicited praise for several days afterwards. It's always the adults who tell me how good a parade service is - never the youngsters in the uniformed organisations. And in this case it was the contribution of others that made a favourable impact. Nonetheless, it was good to hear people saying how they had appreciated the service. The following week was our parent and toddler service, this time all my own work. And again there was much unsolicited praise. Yesterday one of our local preachers told me she arrived to see the balloons at the front of the church, remembered it was a toddlers service and asked herself why she had bothered to come. She told me the service was so good that it won her over despite her very negative attitude. Both these services received comments worthy of a score of 9 or 10 from the judges.

But yesterday I fell apart. I hadn't prepared well. The sermon was practically thrown together on Sunday morning. I managed to think of a dramatic and challenging conclusion to the sermon, but entirely forgot to deliver it. I wasn't on the ball during the service (almost forgetting to receive the offertory for example), I waffled too much in the sermon and the whole thing, including communion was an hour and twenty minutes which was surely way too long for the visitors in the christening party. As I took my seat after delivering the blessing, I felt like a dancing celebrity who knew he had under-performed and let people down.

Fortunately for me I did not have to go up before a panel of professional preachers. Instead, to my amazement I had several comments along the lines of "good service this morning!" Even my wife, who can be relied on to be honest in such matters, thought it had been good. I can only assume that they were responding to the performance of the Holy Spirit and not to my own feeble efforts. But just think what the Holy Spirit could have done with the service if I had been on top form!

Goths, grungers and emos

Last night, as part of our local street pastor training, we had a fascinating illustrated talk about the dress code, attitude, musical taste and preferred drugs of various youth cultures. Namely, hip-hop; gangsta; punk; BMX-er; skateboarder; goth; grunge; metalhead; emo and chav. On the one hand, it opened my eyes to the issues we encounter amongst some of the youngsters we meet on a Friday night patrol. On the other hand I found some of the attitudes alien and depressing. How can the gospel of Jesus get through to such people? How can such sub-cultures be redeemed? Is there any way they can become an expression of the Christian faith? Can they take on board the Christian ethos whilst maintaining their own unique characteristics?

I am used to the concept that the kingdom of God has room for many kinds of sub-cultures - elderly high church Anglicans, black Pentecostals, conservative evangelical students, earnest environmental activists, sportspersons, bikers, politicians etc. etc. Is there room for Christian metalheads or Christian goths or Christian emos? Maybe God is more open and welcoming than we imagine.

One thing I do know is that it is too easy to look down on such people because I feel I am better than they are. The talk ended with a paragraph which sounded strangely familiar:

"The street pastor struck up a pose and prayed to the Lord, 'I thank you that I am not like that goth / grunger / emo / chav. I give my time generously and patrol the streets every Friday.'"

A dawn sky to lift the spirits

The temptation is strong to list all the things I have been doing over the last ten days. Suffice it to say I have been lacking the time (and motivation too if I'm honest) to maintain my online spiritual journal.

Another temptation is to describe my current status in terms of work. OK, that's a temptation I can't resist, but I'll keep it brief: Yesterday (Sunday) lunchtime we set off for Macclesfield to spend a few days with our son. My next 'work' commitment is on Thursday evening, so I have three clear days to enjoy the company of wife, son and dog. Except that there are three events on Friday and Sunday which I have not begun to prepare for, plus a few major issues that I need to keep on top of. The wonderful thing about the internet is that I can work away from home. The problem about the internet is that I can't escape work even when I leave home. Anyway, nil desperandum. I reckon an hour or two focused work each day will see me through and still leave plenty of room to enjoy life.

The plain fact is that I cannot identify offhand any significant spiritual moments in recent days. The closest I can come up with is the beautiful red sky, accompanied by a randomly chosen MP3 track which superbly complemented the mood, which lifted my spirits as I set off to buy the morning paper. Thanks, Lord, for simple reminders of your glory. Oh yes - there was also the great family hilarity last night produced by (surprisingly considering self and wife have little car interest) an episode of Top Gear. In fact, come to think of it, life is full of wonderful and exciting moments. I just don't normally stop to recall them.

"What is that to you? You must follow me."

Last night I led a discussion on the Apostles' Creed for one of our house fellowships. It was interesting to hear such a variety of views expressed during the course of the evening. For example:

• God cannot be all-powerful (given the presence of suffering)
• Human beings have created the concept of God
• Jews, Christians and Muslims believe in the same God but take different paths up the mountain
• The virgin birth is irrelevant; Jesus was the son of Joseph
• No-one believes in hell these days
• If God created everything he must have created evil as well as good
• You can believe in a spiritual realm where you go after death without necessarily believing in God

OK, so I'm being very selective here. There were some more orthodox Christian views put forward too. But how did I react to all this?

As a reasonably evangelical Christian, I am disappointed that some of my congregation hold a radically different Christian belief to mine. As a world-weary cynic, I am unsurprised by all this and rather intrigued by the range of angles from which people approach their faith. As the minister of this group of people, I am able to take it all in my stride and not be shocked by it. As an intellectual who has recently been wrestling with some of the big questions raised by Richard Dawkins, I find myself sharing the doubts and struggles of others.

One big question is how you can believe in an all-powerful loving God who apparently allows tremendous suffering. Now I need to choose my next words carefully lest I sound horribly selfish and callous. It has occurred to me this morning that whilst I sympathise with the suffering of others and would want to do what I can to help them, I do not suffer greatly myself. Whilst I would find it difficult to say to someone else, "simply trust God and you'll be OK" (because surely there are thousands who have trusted God and whose lives are far from OK), the fact is that whenever I have put my trust in God, he has not let me down.

What I'm saying is that when I look at how other people struggle to reconcile their faith and their suffering, I find I share their doubts. (In passing, I ought to note that there do exist many who have not only reconciled their faith to their suffering but have in the process become shining examples of what it is to be a Christian.) When P said last night that she couldn't see how God can be all-powerful I understood what she meant. But when I look at my own life and experience I find it difficult to think of an occasion when suffering really rocked my faith. Maybe it's because my level of suffering has always been low. Maybe it's because my faith has never been truly tested. Whatever the reason, my experience of God has been good. Why then, should I allow other people's experiences to disturb my relationship with God?

As Jesus once said to Peter when he showed curiosity over another disciple, "What is that to you? You must follow me."

Can our prayers change God's mind?

There are two points of view which make prayer a pointless exercise.

1. God never interferes with the world as we know it, but expects us to manage it ourselves.
2. God has the whole of life planned out for us. Everything is fore-ordained and everything happens according to his predetermined will.

If we believe that God has no control over events, or if he has absolute control over events, then why bother to pray? Either he can't do anything to help, or he has already decided what is going to happen and our prayers are not going to make any difference.

(A short pause to clarify the meaning of the words I am using. By prayer, I mean specifically requests for certain things to happen. By pointless, I mean that our prayers have no effect on the world around us. I acknowledge that there are many other kinds of prayer than mere requests. I also acknowledge that prayer is never entirely pointless because it changes the way we think and act. But for the scope of this particular post, I am exploring the question "Does prayer make things happen?" and the related question "Can our prayers change God's mind?")

My own view is that God has considerable control over the world. He can and does interfere. But he has chosen to withdraw his control from certain aspects of life to make room for human freedom. We too can and do have an impact on the world by the choices we make. God may well have broad overall plans for the life and future of the world, but he doesn't dictate every detail of our existence. Therefore God's plans have to be flexible. As an illustration, I decide it's time to let our dog out into the garden. I stand by the door and call her, but she doesn't come. So I don't open the door as I intended. I decide to try again in half an hour. My plans are flexible. In fact, this is the way we interact with each other all the time. We have our plans but they are constantly being adjusted in the face of what other people choose to say or do. If the plans are particularly important to us we may not want to adjust them very much, but we still have to adjust. (For example my plan to 'open the back door for the dog' becomes 'go and drag her out of bed and give her a push out of the door'.)

Similarly God must be constantly revising the way he interacts with the world to take into account the varied choices and actions of its inhabitants. If the situation changes, his response to it will change. A situation in which I am not praying about a particular issue is different from a situation in which I am praying about that issue. And a situation in which I am praying desperately about the issue and persuading others to join me in prayer is different again. It therefore ought to be no surprise if God reacts differently to these three situations.

In other words, I believe our prayers can change God's mind. The very fact that we pray introduces a new factor into the situation. Maybe this will be enough for God to review his plans and respond accordingly. Maybe not. But I don't believe prayer is pointless.

With that in mind: Lord, I pray that our joint circuit meeting tonight will lead to a closer union of our two circuits and to a clear decision about the staffing of the new circuit. There are so many issues and strong feelings around, that the meeting has the potential to drive us apart rather than bring us together. Lord, may we be able to share all our concerns openly and honestly, but may we then come to a common mind on how we believe you are leading us.

• The outcome: YES! Every prayer was answered in the affirmative. The meeting concluded with a unanimous vote. (The only dissenting votewas an email from someone who couldn't be present.)

The clouds ye so much dread...

The third verse of God moves in a mysterious way runs as follows

• Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
• The clouds ye so much dread
• Are big with mercy, and shall break
• In blessings on your head.

I've just found the truth of that. Two phone calls which I've been putting off for several days because I expected them to be difficult and upsetting have both turned out to be friendly and far less disturbing than I imagined.

I'm very good at delaying doing the things I don't like. It's far more satisfying just to get on and do them. If they turn out to be bad at least they are in the past, and if they turn out OK, then extending the period of worry is plain stupid.

Am I worthy of the sacrifice of others?

I've just finished preparing my talk for the Remembrance Day parade service. In it I will be reminding everyone of how much their current life and freedom depends on the sacrifice (in varying ways) of others - of parents, of those who fought in the world wars, and of Jesus.

One further thought occurs to me (which I won't include in tomorrow's service). I am in the fortunate position of being the minister in a generally trouble-free and active church. Life for me is pretty good at the moment. And this is in large part due to the goodwill extended to me by members of the local church and circuit. Many people are prepared to put themselves out to help me in practical and organisational ways. Many pray for me and offer friendship and support. And the 64,000 dollar question is "Do I live in a way worthy of their support and sacrifice?"

The honest answer has to be "Not nearly as much as I should."

Rejoice! My lost diary is found!

I discovered yesterday evening, as I was gathering together what I needed for the church council, that my diary had gone missing. Admittedly, the data was recently synchronised with my laptop, so it's loss was more of an inconvenience than a disaster, but the hassle of replacing it and the security risk if it fell into the hands of some miscreant were preying on my mind for the first part of the morning. So it was with great delight and with gratitude for answered prayer that I discovered it had slipped down the side of the car seat.

Jesus - the life and soul of the party

I was reminded this morning that if the average person were to draw up an ideal guest list for people they wanted to come to a party, Jesus would probably not be included. This is a shame, because during his ministry he was widely known as 'Jesus, the party animal' (I paraphrase).

This has made me realise that I am currently carrying around in my mind the wrong picture of Jesus. I imagine him as a kind of life coach hovering over my shoulder making sure I am worthy in character and effective in ministry. This leads to the following:

1. I find the thought of spending time with Jesus (in prayer for example) something of a chore rather than a pleasure.
2. I am willing to put up with his presence (and indeed expect it) when I am working or engaged in any kind of Christian activity, but I ignore him when I want to relax or have a laugh.
3. The concepts of faith and work are becoming linked in my mind. For example, this supposedly spiritual journal is turning (like all my other attempts to keep a journal) into a record of how much or how little I am achieving.
4. I focus more on trying to please God than on simply enjoying God.
5. If this continues I will end up preaching a dry gospel of "knuckle down and behave yourself" instead of a living gospel of "Rejoice! Jesus loves you!"

So, I'm sorry, Lord, for neglecting your simple non-judgemental friendship. For what remains of the day, let's stick together and enjoy it, shall we?

Busy-ness leaves no room for guilt

The following situation is fairly typical.

• (a) I have a number of urgent and important tasks to perform. These are not scheduled events. The timing is my own responsibility, but the expectation of others is that I will be giving them some priority. Current examples include overseeing the process of circuit amalgamation especially regarding finance, staffing and mission; visiting fringe members; producing a church web site; visiting assorted groups to promote our parent and toddler service.
• (b) I have a day or two when the scheduled events leave little or no room for anything else. For example, Saturday consisted of a churches together prayer meeting, a coffee morning, an afternoon of street pastor training, a trip to the supermarket and an evening writing sermons. Sunday consisted of a morning service, an afternoon service for the bereaved followed by tea, and belatedly washing up our own Sunday lunch pots and pans. Admittedly the evening could have been usefully employed, but wasn't - unless you count a puzzle, a short walk and an episode of "House" as useful.

These two factors combine as follows. I have failed to do any of the tasks in paragraph (a), but I don't feel in the slightest guilty because I have been engaged in all the activities described in (b). What I need to realise is that "I've been busy" is not a good excuse for non-achievement. It is my responsibility to take enough control of my diary that I make time for the urgent and important unscheduled tasks. Either that, or I don't promise to do in the short term what I know I will not have time to do.

The consequences of discipline (or its absence)

I have a poor grasp of cause and effect. Intellectually I know that lots of fatty food will increase my weight. But deep in my bones I feel that huge meals on special occasions or indecent amounts of chocolate when I’m in a grey mood will somehow contribute nothing towards my size or health.

Similarly I know at an intellectual level that all this paperwork facing me (and that includes the list of jobs I have promised people to do and/or people expect me to do) has to be tackled immediately if not sooner. If it isn’t then I will have to spend the later part of the week making excuses - “Sorry this is not as well prepared as it should be, but I’ve really not had time...” But my gut instinct is to chill out and hope it will go away of its own accord.

Most importantly of all, my mind is clear on the incontrovertible fact that if I fail to make time to pray or to study the Bible or to turn my thoughts to God, then my spiritual life will suffer. But my general attitude to life remains “God loves me, so I reckon I’ll be able to muddle through somehow.”

Setting down this contrast between thoughts and feelings has helped me take to heart the need for self-discipline. It’s not good enough to do what I want and hope the consequences turn out for the best. The desire for bodily, mental or spiritual health ought to be strong enough to motivate my everyday behaviour.

Local boy made good

Last weekend I returned to my home church in Sheffield to preach at their church anniversary services. It was great to see so many friends and family (mother, sister, uncles) again, including a few old friends who made a special effort to come along. I brushed up a couple of good sermons from recent months, took along my guitar and demonstrated my power point skills. I couldn’t go wrong. Even though I gave confusing instructions during the all-age address and later knocked over and smashed my glass of water, everyone loved me.

This has done wonders for my ego, and I have to remind myself that the circumstances were extremely propitious. They wouldn’t feel the same if they had me week in week out, or if I was a stranger rather than the nice young man they remember from 35 years ago.

So it was refreshing that at the end of the evening service R disagreed politely but strongly with a lot of my sermon. He couldn’t believe in a God who tinkers, a God who is out there somewhere who will hear and answer prayers. He believes in a God who exists in people and nowhere else. A shame we didn’t have time to debate theology at any length. Imagine my distress when R had to give way to a long queue of people wanting to shake my hand and tell me how wonderful I was.

Chain Letters – why I disapprove

Have you ever had one of those letters which promised you eight thousand pounds if you just sent off one pound to the top address in the accompanying list? The principle is that you duplicate the letter and send it to 20 people (within 2 days), adding your address as the third in the list. These each send it to another 20 (400 altogether) with your name moved up to number two, and these in turn each send it to 20 people (8000 in all) with your name now in first place. Hence in 6 days, eight thousand people will each send you a pound.

You can’t fault the mathematics, but it only works if everyone keeps to the rules. I once (against my better judgement) took part in a similar scheme whereby you sent off a bar of chocolate and received back 36 bars. The principle was the same as above, but this time there were only two names on the list and you each sent the letter to only six other people. I didn’t expect to receive as many as 36, but half a dozen would have been nice. I received zero.

It is actually a good thing that people break the chain. In my initial example, if one person starts the letter and everyone responds in 2 days, then 18 days later there will be 25 billion people trying to send a letter (that’s several letters per person on the planet). At the end of one month every single person on the planet will be attempting to post billions of separate pound coins each day in response to the billions of letters they are each receiving.

With the advent of email the chain letter has come into its own and not all are obvious. There are warnings about viruses that simply must be passed on to everyone in your address book. Sometimes these claim to be from official sources like the police – as if the police would utilise chain emails to spread such warnings! There are worthy petitions to be signed. There are good Christian messages, often accompanied by high quality graphics. The latest I have come across (and didn’t even recognise at first) is my blog being ‘tagged’ (see previous post) by a fellow blogger. What all these have in common is that you are asked to pass on the message to others.

Whilst I sometimes enjoy the message / joke / whatever, and whilst I appreciate being thought of as worthy of receiving such friendly messages, if I find that the bottom line is “send this on to six / ten / all of your friends”, then I have a simple rule. I don’t. Why should I put my friends under an obligation, however slight, to pass on what I send to them? If I send something enjoyable or interesting with no strings attached and they choose to forward it, then well and good. But it seems to me an unwarranted imposition to build in to any message an expectation that my friends pass it on to their friends.

It occurs to me that if I am to remain true to this principle I ought to be careful how I preach on evangelism. I shouldn’t expect people to share their faith with others because I tell them they ought to. Rather I should encourage them to get so excited about their faith that they simply have to share it with others because it’s too good to keep to themselves.

Seven random facts about myself

I was recently ‘tagged’ by another blogger. (see comment on this post.) On investigation I found this was a form of chain letter – a concept I disapprove of (see next post for my thoughts on chain letters). The idea is to post seven random facts about myself and then ‘tag’ more people. Whilst I appreciate being noticed by my tagger, I have decided not to continue the chain by tagging anyone else. Mind you, I’m not averse to being given an excuse to post seven random facts:

1. I can recite from memory The Hunting of the Snark by Lewis Carroll. It has 141 stanzas and takes about half an hour.
2. I belonged to the last scout troupe in Sheffield to switch from the old uniform (khaki shorts and wide brimmed hat) to the new (long trousers and beret). We retained the old ways for about a year longer than we were supposed to.
3. In 2003 the BBC ran a poll of favourite books from which they announced the Big Read top 100. At the time I had read 37 of these. A few I had not completed – for example I had only read the first book of the Gormenghast trilogy and I gave up on Bridget Jones at the end of March – but I still felt I had done enough to count them in the total of 37. As of today (and this figure includes five where I failed to reach the last page but made a valiant attempt), I have read 85 out of 100.
4. I enjoy wearing socks in bright colours, preferably striped. Sadly these are rarely manufactured in men’s sizes.
5. My Myers-Briggs personality type is ENTJ.
6. Before I step out of the bath or shower I quickly remove excess moisture from my hair and body with a warm flannel. My family regard this behaviour as weird. But who leaves wet patches on the bathroom floor, or ends up draped in a soggy towel, eh? Not me.
7. I have a first class honours degree in Mathematics. I believe this entitles me to the following rant concerning people who abuse the word ‘infinitely’: How dare people say (for example), “such and such makes the problem infinitely more difficult” when by any reasonable standards it only makes it two or three times more difficult! Infinity is bigger than three. Infinity is a majestic concept which even mathematicians with years of training can hardy begin to grasp. There are many distinct kinds of infinity, some of which are bigger than others. And when I say many I actually mean there are an infinite number of distinct kinds... and I’m not talking about some piddling little infinite number like a countable infinity of distinct kinds. The variety of distinct kinds of infinity is beyond your (and my) wildest dreams. And yet people casually talk of ‘infinitely’ when they mean ‘many’. We have a range of words to describe many – several, dozens, thousands, billions, ten to the power of a googol etc. Why cannot we employ these more accurate words in our everyday speech and reserve ‘infinitely’ for the times when we really mean ‘infinitely’? (End of rant.)

Rugby World Cup - winning without try-ing

I'm way too busy at the moment (not by choice) to do much blogging. I thought I might record my thoughts on the cup final, and then realised it had the makings of an editorial for our church magazine. As the deadline was yesterday this meant I could kill two birds with one stone. So here are my thoughts, soon to be distributed far and wide to our congregation and mailing list:

Dear Friends,

As most of you ought to know by now, I am not particularly interested in or well informed about sport. But last night I watched the Rugby World Cup final. England were playing South Africa, and I thought it would be a shame if England won an exciting match with a nail-biting finish and I missed it. As it happened, South Africa won.

Now, you must bear in mind that I am a complete novice when it comes to rugby and therefore what I’m about to say may be entirely missing the point... but I thought the idea of rugby was to score tries by carrying the ball over the opponents base line. (I’m sure there’s a more technical name for it.) So, for me, the one dramatic moment in the match was when an English player made a spectacular run, at the end of which there was a bit of a scuffle, a few quick passes and a try in the far corner. Except it wasn’t a try. After a tense wait reviewing the video tapes the referee decided the player’s foot had touched the chalk side line before the ball went down.

So, if there were no tries, why was the score not nil-nil? Because at apparently random moments during the game the referee awarded a penalty to one side or the other. Each penalty kick, if successful, was worth three points. I realise that penalties are not awarded arbitrarily and that there must have been some infringement of the rules, whether intentional or accidental, but the way it seemed to me was that just because South Africa only did this twice and England did it five times, the match went to South Africa.

I think the commentators viewed the result as a fair one, so I’m not complaining about who won, just the means by which they won. From my uninformed perspective it seems that to win the World Cup you don’t have to score tries. You merely have to stand firm against your opponents and not infringe the rules as often as they do.

This is a philosophy of life often adopted by the church or by individuals within it. Our aim is to resist the enemy by standing firm in our faith and not giving in to temptation, and to avoid breaking the rules – don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t commit adultery and so on. I’m not suggesting that any of this is bad. We need, in the words of the baptism service, to turn away from evil and all that denies God. One reason for prayers of confession in our services (besides the obvious fact that if we confess our sins God will forgive us) is that we have to be constantly vigilant that inappropriate attitudes and harmful behaviour do not worm their way into our lives. It does us good to examine our lives from time to time and seek God’s help to overcome wrong.

But if that’s all we do then we are missing half the battle. If the best that can be said of us is that “he/she never did anyone any harm”, then we are some way short of God’s hopes for us. We need to be actively engaged in seeking opportunities to do good – to carry the battle into the opponent’s half. As Paul put it in Romans 12:21, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” We may not murder, but what do we do to help the victims of violence or war? We may not steal, but how generously to we give? We may not commit adultery, but in what ways do we promote and encourage healthy family relationships?

Jesus once told Peter that he was the rock on which the church would be built, “and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18) With the image of a rock in mind, I have often pictured the church as a fortress withstanding the armies of Hell. This is only half the story. The gates of Hades are not symbolic of an attacking force, but a last-ditch defence. Jesus expects his church to go on the offensive and assures us that (unlike the England team) we are well able to break through the enemy’s strongest defence and secure a wonderful victory.

What can Christians learn from Richard Dawkins? 3

The setting: A London district superintendents residential meeting. The speaker: The general secretary of the Methodist Church. The subject: "Deeks on Dawkins". The hope: That David Deeks, being both theologically astute and scientifically well-informed, would come up with some good logical counter-arguments to Richard Dawkins. The reality: An interesting and thought-provoking discussion on the Dawkins / Hitchens / Hawking / Pullman phenomenon, which failed to address any of the specific issues raised in The God Delusion.

Never mind. On the way to the meeting I was trying to frame a question to ask if opportunity arose, and I came up with further thoughts (following on from earlier post) on finding evidence for God's existence.

The issue boils down to this. If there exists objective evidence that can be presented to any reasonably intelligent person to convince them of God's existence (in the way that there is evidence which 'proves' to all but the ignorant or blinkered that the world is round rather than flat), then where is it? Believers in God would love to be able to prove their case in such a way. In the absence of objective evidence, all we are left with is subjective evidence - feelings, experiences, visions etc. - which (as Dawkins points out) could be explained as a trick of the mind.

My insight as I drove to the superintendents meeting was this. There does exist a category of personal objective facts which cannot be communicated to the general public. Here comes a trivial example. I remember a party where I noticed a cream bun had been left on my chair. I decided to act as if I hadn't seen it and pretended to sit down. The people on either side shouted last second warnings to save me from a creamy bottom. When I admitted I was only pretending they didn't believe me. I grew quite frustrated in trying to convince them. In the end I decided to regard their disbelief as a tribute to my acting skills. The point is that I saw the cream bun before I returned to my seat. This is an objective fact and not in any sense a trick of the mind. Yet I was totally unable to persuade other people of this truth.

In my lifetime I have had experiences which others may see as subjective (and if I'm honest they are far enough removed in time that my present self could see them as subjective too), but which were to me as clear and objective evidence of God's presence as anyone could wish for.

Me? A workaholic? Surely not!

My daughter accused me yesterday of being a workaholic. My response was that I am in no way a workaholic, but was in the unfortunate position of being whatever the opposite of a workaholic is and yet having to work hard. Was that a fair response?

The facts: a) I have always found it much harder to start work than to stop work. I have seen workaholic ministers who seem to get a buzz out of non-stop activity and have felt relieved not to be like them. One of the biggest compliments I was ever paid was from my doctor (some years ago now) who was also one of my church members. He said that if it had been any other minister exhibiting my symptoms he would have diagnosed a stress-related ulcer, but in my case he was sure that was not the problem. I take time off. I look forward to taking time off. To put it bluntly I am bone idle. This doesn't mean I sit and daydream. I am happy to be occupied, but I would much rather read a book, do a crossword or watch a film (or write a post for my blog) than get down to anything resembling work.

b) The last month or so has been busy and the last few days particularly so. I have even cut short my meal breaks because there has been essential preparation for the various meetings I have had to attend. My leisure seems to consist of snatched moments here and there rather than unhurried luxurious relaxation. And although I have complained aloud (e.g. "It's nine thirty in the evening and this is the first time since breakfast I've not been actively engaged in something.") I may be secretly enjoying the sensation of having such a busy diary.

Horror of horrors! I may be turning into a workaholic after all! My only scheduled activity today is Street Pastor duty tonight. My ambition for the day is basically to restore order to my desk, in-tray and email, all of which contain uncomfortable quantities of paperwork. I need another ambition to set alongside this - to demonstrate to my daughter that I have all the time in the world for her and for leisure. I'm NOT a workaholic. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

Charles Wesley, Jesus jingles and the orange beaker

Charles Wesley (pictured right) was born in 1707 and this year Methodists are celebrating his tercentenary. Our own local celebration, at which I was present but not actively participating, took place at Shoreham Parish Church. Vincent Perronet, the vicar of Shoreham for 57 years was a great friend, supporter and father figure to John and Charles Wesley.

Last night the parish church was packed with Anglicans and Methodists from outer London and northwest Kent. The present vicar welcomed 'John and Charles' (actors) and was heckled and pelted with scrunched up paper by a rabble in rural costume who objected to their presence. Several Methodist dignitaries attended or contributed to the service, including the Rev. Dr. Colin Morris who preached a cracking sermon about the role of the minstrel.

His key point was that ideas alone are not enough. The minstrel is able to encapsulate the key ideas of a movement into powerful songs. He finds ways to express the thoughts of a people in contemporary language and melody so that the words and images sink into their very souls. The combination of poetry and music can make an impact beyond mere reason.

Towards the end of the sermon, Colin Morris made a comment about 'Jesus jingles' whose words were too trite to carry the weight of the Christian gospel. A murmur of approval ran through the congregation. In a different context, I would have argued that the point of 'Jesus jingles' was not to encapsulate good theology (though hopefully they would avoid bad theology), but rather to set a mood of worship and praise in simple terms which would be accessible to all, includig the uneducated or even illiterate.

On later reflection, my mind returned to the start of the sermon when Dr. Morris paused to drink from an orange plastic beaker. In such an old and distinguished setting, the beaker struck an amusing but jarring note. Couldn't they afford a nice glass tumbler? I realised that for some members of the congregation trite words and child-like tunes strike the same jarring note as the orange plastic beaker.

I still believe there is a place for ephemeral worship songs alongside more profound material (both old and new), but I have made a mental note that such songs need to be right for the context and should not be an off-putting intrusion. All this is very pertinent for today, because tonight is the first (after a six month break) 'Song Workshop' where we learn and practise a few contemporary songs for use in upcoming services.

Marriage break-up - the end of an era

Long ages past, my wife and I met at Durham university. I have since kept in touch with some of my college friends and she with some of hers. In two cases, one of my friends married one of her friends. Altogether we are one of eight married couples (in two overlapping sets) who keep in touch and meet up from time to time. Most have recently celebrated or are due to celebrate their silver wedding. Until yesterday I was amazed, delighted and comforted that despite the high divorce rate, all eight marriages were still going strong.

Yesterday six of the couples (with two husbands unavoidably absent) spent the day together. We thoroughly enjoyed catching up on each others news - mainly regarding the boyfriend / girlfriend / education / work situations of our assorted offspring. On the way home S passed on the news that two of our friends (part of the 'other' set) had split up. She didn't have many details but apparently they have just grown apart over the years and now decided to go their separate ways.

This is not the first time friends' marriages have come to an end, but it is the first time out of the Durham alumni crowd. I don't really know how I feel. Disappointed certainly, and sorry for the couple in question. I was hoping that writing this post would bring home to me more forcefully what has happened, but it seems a distant event. I don't feel any stronger than disappointed.

When people you meet regularly hit problems, you can sympathise and offer to support and help. When it's people you only see once every few years, you don't quite know what to say or do. In this case, we only heard on the grapevine rather than directly, and I think it may be best to wait and see what their annual Christmas letter tells us. Meanwhile, life goes on I suppose. Thank goodness that we have a faithful friend in Jesus. He is one person at least who I know will never disappoint us.

P.S. When I hear about unexpected marriage break-up I always want to announce to people that S and I have a rock-solid relationship and they shouldn't worry about us. But to say so would lead people to think, "Why is he telling us this? There must be something going on." So I keep quiet.

The word "Raca" is not in my vocabulary.

The word Raca is an Aramaic term of contempt and, according to Jesus, those who use it ought to be hauled before the authorities. (Matthew 5:21-22)

For a long time I have been proud of the fact that I have never committed murder. I can read with equanimity that part of the Sermon on the Mount which warns against being angry. I am not naturally an angry person. But I have only just discovered a worse attitude than anger - contempt. Anger makes you want to hurt other people. Contempt for them means you don't care if they get hurt or not. I may never say Raca, but if I look in my heart I find that I do harbour feelings of mild contempt for certain people or types of people. I don't care about them.

Lord, help me respect everyone I encounter today. Help me to recognise them as fellow human beings. Help me to care about their lives as much as I care about my own.

Thanks for the alarm call, Lord

As so often happens, when I sit on a comfortable sofa reading my book over lunch, my eyes start to droop and my mind starts to drift. There are two ways to go. One is to give in to sleep and grab a quick forty winks. The other is to stand up and move around to get the adrenalin pumping round again. This is not the first occasion that I have chosen the former but God has had other ideas and has intervened with a summons to get up and move.

On this occasion I had already decided to drop off at the end of the next page when the doorbell rang. J had arrived for a meeting that I wasn't expecting her to attend and was cancelled anyway. By the time I had given her a lift back home I was wide awake. Keep prodding me, Lord, when I need it.

What's my score?

The Independent newspaper is giving away a series of booklets about Success at Work. From the little I've read so far, much of the advice is inappropriate for Christian ministry. I'm not sure, for example, that I want to work hard every hour of the day including evenings and weekends, and stay up into the small hours of the morning so that I can get the job done, but at the same time give the impression of cool unharassed efficiency and never let on how busy I am having to be to achieve what I do. That sounds to me more like 'how to die early of stress' rather than 'how to have a successful working life'.

Other advice seemed potentially more worthwhile. For example, giving yourself a score for how well you did a particular activity so that you become focussed on how to learn from mistakes and do better next time.

So how well would I score my ministry at this precise moment?

• Preaching 80% - I have had some good feedback recently about my services. Lots of people said how good the Harvest Parade service was. I still waffle on too long, so there is room for improvement.
• Pastoral Care 50% - I get on well with most people and they seem pleased to see me. My biggest fault is that I don't get out to visit people nearly as often as I intend.
• Administration 40% - I am competent at chairing meetings and capable of dealing with admin, but I too easily let paperwork get out of control, and then it begins to dominate my working life in an unhelpful way.
• Networking 70% - I attend lots of social functions with church members, and enjoy keeping in touch with colleagues in Methodism and other denominations.
• Leadership 50% - I don't see myself as a dynamic leader, but I do what I can to set and example and promote the right attitudes.

That would give an overall score for my ministry as an estimated 60%. Enough for a pass, but a long way from excellence.

Blessed are the dregs of society

I'm not entirely convinced by Dallas Willard's interpretation of the beatitudes - for it to work properly he has to make 'pure in heart' mean something bad like 'perfectionists' or 'nit-pickers' - but he has hit the nail closely enough on the head to challenge my own attitudes.

His point is that Jesus is not listing the qualifications needed for happiness. He is not saying that to be part of the kingdom of heaven one must be poor in spirit, persecuted or in mourning. Rather Jesus is giving examples of those whose lives can be and are being transformed by their participation in the kingdom of heaven. And it is not the expected people (the saintly, the educated, the strong-willed, the disciplined) whom he cites as examples. It's the downtrodden, the ignorant, the sad and the weak. In other places he points to what is happening to the lame, the blind, the dead, the poor, the oppressed. When the kingdom comes into their lives they leap for joy. They are truly blessed.

The circles I move in most comfortably bring me into contact with people of similar education, social standing and moral attitude to myself. When I meet people who are to varying degrees dim, bigoted, dirty, awkward, wretched or desperate, then even if I try to be a sympathetic listener, I don't really expect that I have anything to offer which can help them much, let alone transform their lives. The beatitudes remind me that it is precisely those whose lives are truly awful that have the most to gain from the impact of Jesus in their lives. How dare I look down my nose at such people! How dare I imagine that the kingdom of heaven is beyond their reach or their appreciation!

We plough the fields with tractors

Last week M gave me the words of a hymn she had sung at a Harvest Festival in Yorkshire. She said the congregation had enjoyed it, although the last line was missing so there was some confusion when people tried to sing the first line of the chorus to the melody of the last line of the verse. She pointed out I would need to complete the final stanza: "Why do folks in foreign lands / Still starve and children die? / Because we have not learned..." (suggestions on a postcard...)

I looked up the hymn on the internet and found two further versions of it. None of the three versions were identical and in some places they were radically different. None of them had an author attributed. So I took the best lines from each, and in the few places (especially the last verse) where I didn't like any version I made the words up myself. We sang it tonight. No-one passed comment on it afterwards, which I take to be a sign of disinterest rather than active dislike.

Anyway, these words may never be sung again in this precise form, so I preserve them here for posterity. If anyone knows who the original author is, please say so.

We plough the fields with tractors,
With drills we sow the land;
But growth is still dependent
On God’s almighty hand.
Organic fertilizers
Will help the growing grain,
But for its full fruition
It needs God’s sun and rain.

All good gifts around us
Are sent from heaven above;
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all his love.

To gather in the harvest
Machines now lead the way.
We reap the the fields with combines,
We bale the new mown hay;
But it is God who gives us
Inventive skills and drive;
Which lighten daily labour
And give us fuller lives!

Then why are people starving
When we have life so good?
And some in crowded cities
Search dustbins for their food;
And even some go hungry
Who farm in distant lands;
Lord, help us learn more swiftly
To share with open hands.

Teaching that changes lives

Dallas Willard (a Christian author) reminds me that Jesus didn't teach with the intention of imparting information, he taught with the intention of transforming the lives of his hearers. This is something I easily forget as a preacher. My job is not to increase the level of knowledge in a congregation, but to alter their lives for the better.

In other aspects of life too I need to be reminded of the same principle. My aim for each day should not be to get through the day without feeling guilty about the amount of work I have done or not done. My aim should be to transform lives - my own and those around me.

Take control

There is nothing stopping me taking control of my life other than my weak will. Am I a man or a mouse? Do I want to retire to bed tonight feeling that I have ambled my way through another day without achieving anything? Am I an American or an American't? (neither)

Seriously though, I have my list of jobs which I need to do this afternoon. Some I will do (taking garden rubbish to the tip; doing the weekly shop at Sainsbury's; collecting props for tomorrow's parade service) because I have effectively promised other people I will do them. Some I will do, but not necessarily giving my best effort (practising my contribution for tonight's Harvest Supper entertainment; preparing my morning talk). Some I hope to do, but may find I don't get round to them (preparing my evening sermon; producing notes about family worship; reducing my paperwork). Already, in my mind I am assuming that some things are going to be not done at all or not done as well as I'd like.

Surely a better attitude is to envisage myself doing all these things, doing them well, enjoying doing them, and feeling satisfied for having done them. I once came across the idea that To Do lists ought to be labelled Will Do lists. So, up with my socks, power to my backbone and on with the first of my Will Do tasks.

• The Outcome: I didn't do everything on my list, but what I did I did to the best of my ability and enjoyed doing. It's well past midnight now, but I can retire to bed satisfied. It's been a good day.

Life on a runaway train

My life at the moment seems like a runaway train with no imminent possibility of stopping. The stations go flashing by whether I am ready for them or not. Yesterday, for example, the train passed through stations called Bible Study, Ministers Fellowship and Attending a Church Council to support a colleague. Today I will be travelling through District meeting about Local Preachers, Publicity Committee, Prayer Meeting and Bible Study Mark II.

There is baggage to be offloaded at most stations, so I am kept busy between stations. Sometimes I am able to have the baggage well enough prepared to hand it over in a careful and satisfying manner. Sometimes it's not properly prepared and just gets tossed out onto the platform with an apology as the train whizzes through. At each station, further baggage, in varying quantities, is loaded into my compartment with the expectation that I will deal with it as the train rattles along. I like those stations where I have little or no baggage to drop off and even more where I have no baggage added to the heap already filling my compartment.

There are times on the journey when I ignore the baggage and relax, but the train never stops, the next station inevitably approaches and somewhere in the clutter of my life there are parcels and packages to be sorted and tidied ready for delivery...

This is clearly not how I ought to feel about life, but I've no time to reflect further - the next station is coming up rapidly.

No sympathy for my knee

Halfway through our holiday in early July my knee started aching and swelled up. For days I couldn't find a comfortable way to sit and although walking seemed to help I was sometimes reduced to a hobble, especially when negotiating stiles.

Three months later the ache has still not entirely vanished, though it is much less than it was. I am not really in pain, but I notice the ache every morning when I wake up and cannot walk without a faint twinge of minor discomfort. I have been measuring my improvement by how far I can kneel down and sit back on my heels without pain. It's only this week that I have been able to get my backside far enough down to touch my heel, though that is accompanied by facial grimaces and monkey impersonations (oo-oo-oo-a-a).

I have been looking forward to the moment, just before I recover completely, of showing my family what progress I have made and them saying to me, "Oh you poor thing, we didn't realise you were still suffering after all these weeks. We assumed you had fully recovered long ago. How brave you are, keeping quiet in the face of constant physical discomfort."

Last night, in straining to kneel by the DVD player, I decided the time was ripe to play out this scenario with my daughter. "You remember the problem I had with my knee when we were on holiday?" I began. "No," she replied, "that must have been after I'd left." She is quite right. She wasn't present for the second half of the holiday. She hadn't even noticed my limping around the supermarket for a few weeks on our return.

I suspect I will get equally little sympathy from the rest of my family. All those weeks of stoic suffering for nothing, eh? C'est la vie.

Salvation beyond mere forgiveness

Chapter 2 of The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard raises an excellent question about forgiveness.

He points out that the bar code on a product is the only thing recognised by a scanner. The nature of the item itself is irrelevant. It could be a haggis or a pomegranate, but if the bar code says it's a tin of baked beans, than the scanner treats it as a tin of baked beans. Salvation is sometimes reduced to a similar process. It doesn't matter who or what we actually are. At the gates of heaven, providing we are labelled with the bar code 'forgiven sinner' we will be admitted.

The question Willard asks is this (my paraphrase): Does the salvation Jesus came to bring consist merely of slapping the right label (e.g. "born-again Christian") on our lives, without any attempt to address the fundamental nature of the human being underneath the label? Isn't it the work of God to transform lives - which involves far more than just forgiving sin?

I'm a great believer in free grace. We don't earn our salvation. It is a free gift of God. But I need to be careful when I preach grace not to give the impression that it is acceptable to leave our lives and lifestyles unreformed.

Motivated by love

Following on from yesterday's post: If I am not motivated by fear of failure, is there another driving force which will impel me to strive for excellence?

One possibility is love. Love for God, for my family and for the world at large. How about offering up today as a gift to God and my family? It's supposed to be my day off, so the world at large can sit on the back burner for the moment - a mixed metaphor which conjures up an interesting image. Actually, before the day ends I will have to consider at least some sections of the world at large. First thing tomorrow morning I will have an organist expecting me to tell her the hymns for Sunday and a Bible Study group expecting me to lead and inspire them. The time I devote to preparing for tomorrow will make up for the time off I took yesterday when I went with my daughter to see Atonement.

So what's the best gift I can give to my family today? The time to enjoy life with them, and the effort required to accomplish those domestic tasks which are uppermost in our plans. And what's the best gift I can give to God? I want to say a tidy study and an empty in-tray (in earnest of my desire to be an efficient minister in his service), but maybe that would be more of a gift to myself. The bottom line is that there is simply too much clutter (unattended paperwork from the last two weeks) and I don't work well in a cluttered environment. Restoring order will increase my effectiveness no end. Tidying up can be a gift of love, can't it?

• The outcome: I tidied my desk - no small achievement - and accompanied assorted members of the family a) to the garden of remembrance and b) on the piano. The day was not long enough and my motivation not strong enough to do everything I had hoped - but 70% for effort.

No pressure

It has dawned on me that I am in the same situation as the two new writers from the TV programme, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. In last week's episode, an outside comedy writer had been brought in to help two new writers develop their skills. They re-wrote the same sketch over a dozen times and it still wasn't funny. The outside adviser explained to the executive producer that the problem was they had been repeatedly told, "No pressure. Just have a go. Do what you can." So of course they produced rubbish. Success or failure didn't matter to them. To counteract this, he wanted their sketch to be performed at the dress rehearsal for the show. "I want them to know what 350 people not laughing sounds like."

There is no real pressure in my life. I have no immediate boss breathing down my neck who will yell at me if I fail. I have a nice tolerant congregation who will put up with my mediocre efforts. I don't mean that as an insult. What I mean is that nobody comes down on me like a ton of bricks when I produce work that is below my best. I don't live in fear of failure because the worst that can happen is a few people saying, "Not one of your better sermons, today." Administratively, if I let things pile up it's no big deal. I know I can bluff my way if need be. Providing I turn up to meetings and sound confident I can get away with shoddy preparation.

Even letting God down doesn't feel like a major disaster. I know he loves me and will forgive me, so why should I strain to my utmost to please him?

Lord, open my ears to the sound of 350 people remaining unimpressed by my material. I don't relish the thought of falling flat on my face in front of everyone, but if that's what it takes to make me produce my best efforts, then pile on the pressure, Lord. I need it.

Do facts matter?

Not for the first time I have received by email, accompanied by heart-warming photographs, the following ‘astounding’ information.

• Q: What is the shortest chapter in the Bible?
• A: Psalms 117
• Q: What is the longest chapter in the Bible?
• A: Psalms 119
• Q: Which chapter is in the center of the Bible?
• A: Psalms 118
• Fact: There are 594 chapters before Psalms 118
• Fact: There are 594 chapters after Psalms 118
• Add these numbers up and you get 1188.
• Q: What is the center verse in the Bible?
• A: Psalms 118:8
• Q: Does this verse say something significant about God's perfect will for our lives?
• The next time someone says they would like to find God's perfect will for their lives and that they want to be in the center of His will, just send them to the center of His Word!
• Psalms 118:8 - "It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man."
• Now isn't that odd how this worked out (or was God in the center of it)?

I’m the sort of person who likes to verify amazing facts before I am amazed by them. In this case I was very careful about my counting and adding. I checked my figures twice to be sure. And I don’t ask you to believe me just because I say so. If you have access to a Bible, count the chapters for yourself.

The two ‘facts’ quoted above are wrong. There are 595 chapters before Psalm 118 and 593 chapters afterwards. The centre chapter of the Bible (according to this criteria) is Psalm 117 not Psalm 118. Maybe someone genuinely miscalculated, or maybe they felt the figures were so close to a nice neat pattern that a small adjustment for a perfect fit could be justified. Also, when it comes to verses within Psalm 118, the logical centre ought to be verse 15 (out of 29), but this doesn’t have such an obviously appealing message.

Never mind. The originator of this chain email is in good company. Matthew, the gospel writer, can’t count either. In chapter one, he names 14 people from Abraham to David inclusive. This is 13 generations if you count the gaps rather than the people. He names 15 people from David to Jehoiachin inclusive (14 generational gaps) and 14 people from Jehoiachin to Jesus inclusive (13 generational gaps). Altogether this comes to 41 named people and 40 generational gaps between them. There is no way that his summary in verse 17 (which speaks of three lots of fourteen generations) is mathematically accurate. This is a shame because it would have brought the total number of generations to 42, which, in the world of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, is the ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything.

It may be heretical to say this, but even Jesus doesn’t seem to have been able to count accurately. In Matthew 12:40 he says, in reference to his death and resurrection, “The Son of Man will spend three days and nights in the depths of the earth.” By my reckoning only one day and two nights passed between his death and resurrection.

Do such numerical errors matter? Surely the significance of the three days and nights was to show how the story of the prophet Jonah foreshadowed the greater story of Jesus. The list of generations supplied by Matthew was intended to show how the coming of the Messiah was part of God’s overall plan. The point is still valid, even if the numbers are mistaken. I’m less sure there is an important message in the chain email once the central premise is shown to be false.

Years ago I wrote to Radio 4 to complain about a quiz in which they had allowed a margin of error in the wrong answer. To the question, “What is the probability of the same cricket captain winning the toss for all five test matches?” they were looking for the answer 1 in 32. (32 being 2 to the power of 5). To the question, “How many stations are there on the Glasgow subway system?” they expected the answer 15. The quizmaster accepted the answer ‘1 in 30’ for the first question, because it was near enough. He disallowed the answer 16 for the second, despite it being only one out. As a mathematician I felt deep in my bones that this was the wrong way round. The first question required an exact answer, the second could be allowed a margin of error.

Similarly, I am laid back about Matthew and Jesus getting their numbers wrong, because the numbers are only symbolic and their inaccuracy doesn’t spoil the meaning. I’m not so keen to let the email ‘facts’ go unchallenged. It seems to me that God is more interested in communicating a plain message that he loves us, than in hiding coded messages in the Bible. If you want to be astounded by the beauty of maths, there is plenty to amaze. I still find it wonderful, for example, that there are only as many rational numbers (fractions) as there are positive integers, but there are more irrational numbers than rational. It may not sound impressive, but it is a huge insight in getting to grips with infinity.

My conclusion? Don’t trust every email you read. It is in human nature to massage the figures so that they say what we want. Instead listen to God. Trust him to communicate the important things we need to know in plain enough terms for us to grasp. Or to put it in a nutshell,

“ It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man.”

Now, where have I heard that before...?

Long Prog Rock Tracks

I wrote this a few days ago and have been wondering where to post it. It isn't directly appropriate to a spiritual journey, unless on the basis that God is interested in every aspect of life even prog rock. I considered setting up a second blog for non-spiritual musings, but didn't want the hassle, and didn't feel I should attempt to partition my life into God and not-God compartments. So I've settled for including in this blog an occasional entry with no obvious spiritual relevance.

My Favourite Long Tracks

What do I mean by a long track? Some songs are longer than others. American Pie, for example, weighs in at over eight minutes. Don McLean manages to sustain our interest over that length of time with some obscure lyrics and a couple of changes in tempo, but basically it is one song. ELP also manages to make a single tune last over eight minutes in Abaddon’s Bolero by turning it into a vast slow crescendo. But for truly long tracks, there needs to be a greater variety of melody or mood than either of these examples.

To use classical analogy, one way to do this is to combine a number of movements into a single piece. Karn Evil 9 appears as one track on my CD, but it is basically three movements. The music twice stops and starts again. Another classical analogy is the rhapsody, which my “Classical Music for Dummies” describes as “a freeform rush of different musical ideas, one after another”, as exemplified by Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody (6 minutes) or Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (17 minutes).

There are also what I might call ‘song suites’. A sequence of distinct songs which are joined together musically and thematically to create a longer track. One example is Turn of a Friendly Card by The Alan Parsons Project. This seems at first to be three or four songs simply run into each other, but the earlier melodies return towards the end so that the suite hangs together as a single coherent concept. Similarly ELP’s Tarkus could be described as four instrumental sections alternating with three songs.

I would be hard pressed to distinguish between ‘rhapsodies’, ‘song suites’ and ‘pieces consisting of several movements’, but all my favourite long tracks seem to fall somewhere on that spectrum. I don’t know of any really long track that is basically one single musical idea. (Perhaps someone else does?)

So here is a list of my favourite long tracks. Two further criteria are a) I have not included whole albums (such as Days of Future Passed; Thick as a Brick; Snow Goose; Journey to the Centre of the Earth), but only tracks or ‘suites’ within an album, and b) I have not included any track under 15 minutes.

• 15:49 Spock’s Beard – Flow
  
• 16:19 The Alan Parsons Project – The Turn of a Friendly Card (suite)
• 16:24 Pendragon – Not of this World
• 16:37 Triumvirat – Across the Waters
• 16:55 Colosseum – Valentyne Suite
• 18:00 Caravan – The Dabsong Conshirtoe
• 18:09 The Nice – Five Bridges Suite
• 18:27 Tangerine Dream – Force Majeure
• 18:28 Keith Emerson – Piano Concerto No. 1
• 20:03 The Tangent – In Earnest
• 20:25 Focus – Hamburger Concerto
• 20:44 ELP – Tarkus
• 20:47 Vangelis – Chariots of Fire (side two of the soundtrack LP)
• 21:01 Spock’s Beard – The Healing Colours of Sound (I only know the live version)
• 22:44 Caravan – Nine Feet Underground
• 24:39 Renaissance – Song of Scheherazade
• 25:03 The Flower Kings – Stardust We Are
• 25:14 The Tangent – A Place in the Queue
• 27:47 Wobbler - Hinterland
• 29:38 ELP – Karn Evil 9

I'm a callous brute

I've gone from being a soft touch (see earlier blog) to a callous brute.

Yesterday a man rang asking me to come to Sainsbury's and buy food for the weekend. I politely refused on the stated grounds that I was tied up all day. This was basically true. I only just had time to do my essential preparation, visit the hospital and lead the evening nurture course. If I had taken half an hour to deal with this request I wouldn't have had time to do the rest. But of course, the real reason for my refusal was I just didn't want to.

I can attempt to justify this. The man had come from the Job Centre where he was having trouble getting hold of the money he was owed. I didn't fully grasp his story, but it was clear his financial planning had gone astray and he had got himself in a mess. Even assuming he was genuine, should it be my responsibility to bail him out? (That's not a rhetorical question. The answer is arguably yes.)

This morning, the speaker on Thought for the Day told of how he gave money to someone needing a train ticket (a clear con) because he believed the man should be treated as a person and not ignored as if he didn't exist. But how do you treat a con man as a person? Neither ignoring him nor giving him money seem a good idea. Is a polite refusal enough? What about saying, "I don't believe a word of it, but God loves you anyway" Or perhaps, "I'm not going to give you money, but if you give me your name I'll pray for you."

Too many meetings?

Too few meetings is not always a good thing for my temperament. If I have an empty diary for a day, whether as an interlude in busy schedule or as part of a generally quiet patch, I tend not to work very efficiently and sometimes wind up achieving nothing other than a sense of guilt.

But too many meetings is not good either. I manage to keep my head above water by doing all the essential preparation at the last minute, but I don't find time to assimilate what has happened in the meetings or to do the things I agreed to do, let alone to reflect theologically on them as we ministers are supposed to do.

Yesterday, for example, I began with a coffee morning (a good bit of social networking), continued with a joint staff and stewards meeting (more social networking though we became rather bogged down in the issue of staffing for the new circuit, an amalgamation of two neighbouring circuits - Methodist jargon which I will leave readers to work out for themselves), and ended with a weekly prayer meeting (small but important) and the first of our monthly Street Pastors team meetings (yet more social networking plus some administrative matters). There were breathing spaces between, but not enough for meaningful ministerial duties.

Today, for another example, I only have an evening Emmaus course in my diary - a Christian nurture course which is proving helpful to those who attend - but I will need to spend the morning preparing for that, plus planning my Sunday evening service. A visit to a colleague in hospital (an hour's journey away) will take up most of the afternoon. Again, where is the time to reflect, or to tackle anything on my 'important but not urgent' list?

What's the solution? Perhaps I should schedule in quality 'important but not urgent' time each day or each week. I tried that once, and it worked for a while. Maybe it's time to try it again. Meanwhile, my writing of this blog is a similar kind of discipline. It forces me to stop and think for a while in the morning, before I get on to the urgent matters of the day.

The only snag is that it delays the start of the 'real' work to the extent that (today, for example) it is past ten o'clock and I still haven't eaten my breakfast.

How do I make a difference?

I woke this morning to a news item about a primary school in Chatham where the police had been called in because of the tension and abuse between 'British' and 'Slovak' families. The vengeful and bitter attitude of one of the mothers - "I'm going to do to her child what she did to mine" - made me quite depressed for a moment. The front page of the newspaper, with its latest report on atrocities in Burma committed against peaceful protesters, hasn't done much to cheer me up. I don't even know the full details of what is going on in Burma - I'm terrible at keeping up with the news; I just don't seem to have the time or inclination - but I know enough to realise the world is in a mess and people constantly suffer at the hands of other people.

So what can I do about it? In my own personal life I am largely cocooned from the harsh reality of pain. I enjoy popular escapist TV with my children (last night there was a double episode of Heroes) or cultural escapism with my wife (Love's Labour's Lost at The Globe yesterday afternoon) or trivial leisure activities on my own (too numerous to mention), while the world is falling apart.

My role as a minister sometimes brings me into contact with individuals who suffer and who need support. I listen to them and pray for them. My role also gives me a platform once a week to address a particular segment of the general public on any matter I wish. I try to preach love, tolerance, understanding, peace and joy. The text "godliness with contentment" is my theme for this Sunday morning, for example. My role also brings me into contact with people in an administrative or organisational capacity. I can model such helpful attitudes as respect and patience in the way I interact with others. Maybe there are more direct or dramatic ways of making a difference which I can attempt from time to time, but the ways I've just listed are the bread and butter of my life. If I can make a small difference in ordinary situations, it's better than nothing.

Toblerone is my Kryptonite

Reflecting on my apathy towards work on Monday (see yesterday's post), I have realised where the problem began. For a few months I have been very disciplined over the consumption of chocolate. I have been restricting myself, except for the occasional treat, to fair trade dark chocolate. This has soothed my conscience in that I have not been supporting the exploitation of cocoa farmers, and calmed my addiction in that dark chocolate doesn't seem to be as more-ish as milk chocolate and one 100g bar can easily last a week.

But on Saturday afternoon I couldn't resist the 'two for £5' offer on Toblerone at the supermarket, especially as there was a new flavour (fruit and nut) to try out. I told myself that two 400g bars ought to last a good few weeks, but it has only taken three days to eat my way into the second bar.

Just as superman loses his powers in the presence of kryptonite, so my will-power goes to pieces in the presence of Toblerone. I become lethargic, lazy and uncaring. I live moment by moment longing for my next triangular chocolate fix.

There seems to me to be only one way out. I must remove the offending article from my study by consuming it in as short a time as possible.

Sloth

By Sunday evening I was ready for a break. Life had been full. Not hard work or hectic, just full. I seemed to have been on the go for a few days non-stop and was ready for a change of pace.

By Sunday evening I had accumulated a number of meetings that needed to be debriefed. That is, I had returned from them with assorted notes and lists of things to do and follow up that needed to be assimilated into my list of jobs and allocated some kind of priority. I had not had enough spare time to debrief the local preachers meeting, the school governors personnel committee, the circuit meeting, the wedding enquiry, the house fellowship leaders conversations, the fresh expressions day or the church stewards meeting. Sunday was also the deadline for writing my contribution to the church's monthly magazine.

So on Monday I had lots to do and a large part of the day to do it. I was even looking forward to clearing as much of this backlog as possible. A visit to a colleague and heavy traffic (three miles in one hour) took most of the morning, but there was still all the afternoon, right?

Wrong. My propensity for sloth took over. I napped in the sun. I toyed around with facebook. I listened to music and played trivial games. I went for a walk to try and energise myself. I had a clear four hours to accomplish all kinds of useful tasks and I did none of them. By the evening all I had done was add another meeting (the family worship planning group) to be debriefed.

Tuesday is my day off. Morning and evening are already accounted for, but this afternoon I really need to do that four hours work I missed yesterday. I know exactly how Paul felt when he said "For what I want to do I do not do" (Romans 7:15)

• The outcome: Plans changed as the day progressed and I was only able to manage two hours work, mostly spent on writing a magazine article. Nevertheless I felt I had been gainfully employed (on ministerial, community, family or personal activities) all day except for two three-quarter hour patches where I frittered away my time pointlessly.

Hobnobbing with bishops

I have had two conversations with Anglican bishops in as many days. On Saturday I attended a fresh expressions conference at Westminster Central Hall and found myself chatting to the bishop of Willesden. Yesterday was the 40th anniversary service of a local ecumenical church and I was invited to 'take the chalice' whilst the bishop of Tonbridge presided at communion.

I found them both to be pleasant amiable men. (I suppose that ought to go without saying.) I felt particularly humbled to be invited to sign my name (in the church record book) alongside the bishop as one of the celebrants of communion, even though I had not taken any other active part in the service. It was good to be treated with respect and not in any sense be made to feel that Methodists were second best.

Having acknowledged that there is a tinge of oneupmanship here ("I'm the sort of person who hobnobs with bishops!"), I should say that I didn't feel overawed by the bishop on either occasion. Something I remember from my training was that John Wesley saw ordination as a Methodist presbyter to be the equivalent of both priestly and episcopal ordination in the Church of England. So Methodist ministers have in their own denomination the same status as both priests and bishops in some other denominations. In theory I ought to be able to meet with a bishop as an equal. In practice I feel I ought to show some due deference, but in the end none of us is more than a mere servant of Christ.

By the by, I did strike a small blow for Methodism in leaving my cassock at home. It is plain black and no match for the white cassocks with red stoles worn by the Anglicans yesterday evening. But the reason I stuck with an ordinary suit and dog collar, even though I knew I would be helping distribute communion, is that it was more true to my Methodist roots. And what is the point of an ecumenical service if it doesn't represent the different traditions? One of my church members commented that I looked very drab up there beside the others, but I can live with that.