Sunday 30 September 2007

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...?

Saturday 29 September 2007

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."

Friday 28 September 2007

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.

Thursday 27 September 2007

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.

Wednesday 26 September 2007

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.

Tuesday 25 September 2007

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.

Monday 24 September 2007

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.

Sunday 23 September 2007

The Parable of the Shrewd Manager (thanks, Lord!)

On Wednesday I asked for God’s help in producing a sermon within four days (see earlier blog). He only took a few hours to provide (via an internet search) enough ideas for me to realise I could tackle the whole parable with honesty and integrity. By the time the sermon was completed a few days later I was happy that it remained faithful to the spirit of the original parable. I was less sure how relevant and meaningful it was.


The responses afterwards were favourable. Many people thanked me for a ‘good service’ and a handful commented specifically on the sermon. The adjective ‘interesting’ was employed more than once, which confirms my suspicion that I had been stronger on Biblical exposition than on real life application. Nevertheless, thank you, Lord, for helping me to meet what seemed four days ago to be an impossible challenge.


As it happens, the appointed preacher for my own church (I was preaching elsewhere in the circuit) fell ill during the week. I volunteered to type up my sermon in full (I normally rely on brief notes) so that it could be read out. Hence the same sermon was delivered twice. In one case it was read out fairly verbatim by someone else. In the other case I read out some bits, paraphrased others and inserted extra sentences here and there as the whim took me. In the former case the only feedback I’ve had so far is from my wife (“the service was all right”) and my daughter (“your sermon was rubbish”).


By the miracle of internet technology you can judge for yourself. I have copied my scripted sermon here below. Sermons really need to be preached rather than read, but the printed text ought to give you the gist of it.


(The following would make more sense if you first read Luke 16:1-13)


Many years ago, a Primitive Methodist preacher, intent on demonstrating the evils of drink to his congregation took a glass of water and dropped into it an earthworm. The worm wriggled around for a while apparently unharmed. He then lifted it out and dropped it into a glass of whisky where it immediately shrivelled up and died. “”What does that tell you?” he asked the congregation, and an old man at the back of the church replied, “If you drink whisky you won’t get worms!”


A good sermon illustration is one that makes the point clearly and doesn’t confuse the congregation with alternative meanings. This is even more true for a parable, which is more than a mere illustration. A parable is a story that gets under your skin. It shouldn’t need an explanation or a moral attached to it. The story itself should make enough sense to inspire or challenge or comfort those who hear it.


According to those criteria, the story of the shrewd manager, as told by Jesus, is not a very good parable. It tends to leave the hearers mystified and confused. Is the story encouraging us to be deceitful if we want to get on in life? Surely not. We need to spend a little time with this parable and allow it to get under our skin before we can discover the important truth it conveys.


To begin with, it’s a story about a rogue. He is selfish and dishonest. He thinks only about his own future well-being and cooks the books to earn brownie points with those who owe money to his master. The word Jesus uses to describe him at the end of the parable is ‘unrighteous’.


But there shouldn’t be a problem about having a rogue as the central character in a parable. Sometimes the unrighteous can act in ways which put the righteous to shame. Remember the parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector? It’s the ‘sinner’ in that story rather than the respectable man who Jesus commends. Not for his sinful life, but for a particular aspect of his behaviour. In that case it was his honesty in recognising his need for God’s mercy and forgiveness. In the case of the dishonest manager it is not quite so clear what aspect of his behaviour is being commended.


There are ways of understanding this story which make the dishonest manager’s behaviour slightly less reprehensible. Here are two scenarios, which soften the harsher edges of the story.


First, notice where the commendation comes from. It is not Jesus commenting on the parable afterwards who commends the manager. It is the master within the story who praises the unrighteous manager – because he had acted shrewdly. This is not the response of a man who is furious over the loss of his money. It sounds more like the response of a man who is very shrewd himself, but on this occasion has been outmanoeuvred by one of his employees.


You could imagine that the rich man was one of those people who have grown rich as a result of dodgy dealings and underhand business practices. He employs an accountant to keep track of his assorted ill-gotten gains. He expects the accountant to have the same dubious morals as himself, but what better person to manage his shady dealings. After a while he decides that accountant is not making enough money for him, so he sacks him. Next thing he knows, the accountant has cleverly used his control of the funds to win friends for himself. “Good for you,” says the master, “you’ve got one up on me this time. You’re devious, but you’re my kind of devious. Well done.”


There are plenty of stories around today of loveable rogues who manipulate others for their own ends – sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Think, for example, of Michael Caine in The Italian Job, or George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven, or the gentleman thief Raffles, or the character of Blackadder on television. All selfish and devious rogues, but we still enjoy their adventures and admire their cunning.


Was this how the disciples understood the parable of the shrewd manager? As the story of a loveable rogue who used his cunning to stay ahead of the game...?


A second way to understand the story is based on the fact that it was against the law of Moses to charge interest on a loan. This didn’t stop lenders finding some other way to make money. Accounts were adjusted so that a proportion of the funds found their way into the pockets of those who brokered the loan. Whatever you call it – a fee, a commission, a bribe – it was the accepted business practice even if not entirely legal. So, for example, if the accounts showed someone owed a thousand bushels of wheat, it may have represented a loan of 800 bushels, plus a further 200 bushels commission to the manager.


In this case, what the shrewd manager was doing by changing the record from ‘IOU 1000 bushels’ to ‘IOU 800 bushels’ was merely waiving his own commission on the deal. He would be out of pocket himself, but he would be in favour with the man who owed the wheat. Maybe this would explain the master’s commendation. If the master wasn’t himself out of pocket from these book-keeping adjustments, then it would certainly account for his lack of anger at having been diddled.


Was this how the disciples understood the parable? As the story of a manager prepared to give up the usual under-the-counter commission in order to win the favour of others...?


However the parable first struck the disciples, the way it strikes us today is the story of a crook who was only interested in getting the best for himself out of a tricky situation. What is there to admire in that?


This is one of those occasions when Jesus pointed his disciples to a single aspect of an otherwise immoral life and said, “Look, even a crook can get this particular thing right – why can’t you?” He didn’t use those exact words in this case. What he said was “the people of this world are much more shrewd in handling their affairs than the people who belong to the light.”


To put it another way, Jesus was saying “Have you noticed how those who have to deal regularly with such worldly things as money and property manage to keep their wits about them? How come you, as my followers, seem to go to pieces when it comes to knowing how to use your wealth?”


The broad principle is that there is something we can learn from the devious crook as portrayed in this parable regarding the way we handle our worldly wealth . But what exactly does Jesus want us to learn?


One key feature of the parable is that the manager was about to leave his master’s employment. He would soon find himself in a different and less secure situation. He would be without the resources and influence that he currently enjoyed. So what was he going to do? The solution was obvious. He would use the wealth available to him in his present position to create better prospects for the future.


When he left his current employment, what would be of value to him? He would no longer have access to his master’s funds. All the privileges he now enjoyed would be gone. What assets would remain? He would still have his health, but he didn’t consider himself strong enough for physical labour. He would still have his self-esteem, but that alone would be no good to him. In fact, his self-esteem was a barrier to one potential source of income – begging. He would still have his network of contacts, but why would they maintain any interest in him when he was no longer managing their accounts? The answer is that he needed to get on their good side by using his power and influence whilst he still had it. His conclusion was simple enough – the wealth at his disposal was not as valuable as having friends who would be around to support him when he lost his job. If using his current wealth would increase the quality of his future friendships, then there was no time to lose!


Our own wealth, along with the resources, power and influence we have in this life, is not going to last forever. We may not be leaving our present world quite so soon as the manager was due to leave his position, but our departure is no less certain. One day all the material privileges we enjoy will come to an end. What will we do then?


Jesus says we can learn from the shrewd manager. “Make friends for yourselves with worldly wealth,” he says, “so that when it gives out you will be welcomed into the eternal home.”


Don’t misunderstand Jesus at this point. He is not saying we can buy our way into God’s good graces, or that we can secure a place in heaven by wise use of our money here on earth. What he is saying is that we need to see beyond our narrow restricted view of life – which focuses on mere pounds and pence, bricks and mortar, flesh and bone – and give consideration to the things of eternity, which will endure when all earthly resources are exhausted.


Like the manager in the parable, we must wake up to the fact that our present situation is only temporary. What provision have we made for building up those things which will remain forever. Saint Paul once said that three things remain – faith, hope and love – but he never said these were the only things that would remain. There are many good qualities such as peace, joy, truth which will endure for ever. And given that the parable is about building friendships, what about our friendship with Jesus Christ? Shouldn’t we value that above all earthly possessions. After all, we can’t take our money with us when we leave, but we can and will continue the loving relationship with Jesus already begun here and now.


The parable acts as a reminder that we will not live for ever, and the wisest way to use our worldly wealth is to use it to prepare for eternity. But Jesus did not tell this story only to get his disciples to think of what would happen after they had died. He told it so that they would learn the right way to live here and now.


Several comments of Jesus follow the telling of the parable. The final one is this. “You cannot serve both God and money.” The word Jesus actually used was the old-fashioned sounding word, mammon. This is not just money, but the whole concept of worldly wealth, power and possessions in its broadest sense.


Like the shrewd manager, we need to decide what we value most. We can’t treat God and Mammon equally. One must be subordinate to the other.


In this, we can learn a lesson from the charity commissioners. For some years now they have been challenging the church and other charities over the level of their reserve funds. It’s comforting for a charity to accumulate large assets so that they can feel financially secure for the future. But the money is not the property of the charity to hoard for themselves. It was given to them to use for their stated charitable purposes. For charities and for churches, achieving their particular purpose is more valuable than building up huge reserves.


As individuals we need to learn the same lesson. All of us here have tremendous resources of time, talent and treasure at our disposal. And far too often we squander them on ourselves. The parable of the shrewd manager forces us to face up to the question, what do we value most? A large bank balance, all the right status symbols and being in a position of power over others? Or do we value our relationship with God, our discipleship of Jesus and our commission to love and serve the world? If even a dishonest crook can work out on which side his bread is buttered, then why can’t we?


Saturday 22 September 2007

I'm a soft touch

Question: Why is at that when someone approaches me in London asking for £2 bus fare to visit his mother in hospital, and I know from the moment that he opens his mouth that he is just spinning me a yarn in the hope of getting money, I still end up giving him £2?
Answer: Because I am weak-willed. I would rather fork out £2 and give him the impression that I am generous than refuse and have him think ill of me - even though I know he is a con-man (who has precisely judged the amount I am likely to fork out quickly to get rid of him) and his opinion of me shouldn't matter a jot.
Question: Next time someone accosts me with a similar request for money, will I have the inner strength to say no and walk away?
Answer: Time will tell

Muslim worship in a Christian church?

I had an enquiry yesterday, from a third party, as to whether some local Muslims could use the Methodist church for their festivities at the end of Ramadan next year. A large space was needed (the equivalent of two chairs per person) for prayer and many other venues were too small.

What was the right thing to do? On the one hand I am all in favour of lowering the barriers between different religions and cultures. In today's distrustful climate we need to promote respect and tolerance for people of any faith, or of none. On the other hand I was uncomfortable about Muslim worship taking place in the same physical space that weekly Christian worship takes place. When the enquirer pointed out that we all worship the same God, my response was to make a few dissembling noises and then say that although I believe there is only one God, the nature of that God according to Islam is not the same as the Christian view of God's nature.

In the end I said no, but have since been wondering what kind of signal that sends out. I'm planning on raising this issue at the next stewards meeting. I'm curious how they feel about it, and whether they would expect me to have responded differently.

It was only this morning that I realised I never considered the four guides I wrote about yesterday. It is easy enough to find Biblical passages warning against 'other gods', though there is also the strand of teaching which encourages hospitality to strangers. Traditionally churches have been used exclusively for Christian worship. My personal experience in this area is practically nil. I have not gone out of my way to avoid contact with Muslims but neither have I set out to build relationships with them. But none of this came to mind when I was faced with making a quick decision. Reason was my main guide.

Friday 21 September 2007

Scripture, Tradition, Reason, Experience

I have been musing on the four guides that we ought to trust in making sense of the world we live in. Relying on any one of these to the exclusion of the others is not a good idea. The best way to discover the truth about reality, and more importantly to discover how to behave as a result of knowing that truth, is to take seriously all four guides.


  • SCRIPTURE. As a Christian, I believe that God speaks in and through the written text of the Bible, and therefore the Bible is a book I should trust. This is not to say I should take everything in it as the literal truth. There are layers of meaning (as with any text) and the most important truths are not always on the surface. The Bible is a book to engage with – to absorb, study, question, wrestle with, listen to and above all take seriously. John Campbell, in “Being Biblical”, has some very interesting things to say about the way we approach Scripture.
  • TRADITION. Why reinvent the wheel? Better brains than mine have tackled the same issues as I face today. Admittedly some of them lived long ago and in different cultural contexts, and their conclusions are not always valid for my own age and context. But it is still worth knowing what others think. Truth is best discovered in a community setting, listening to and sharing with others, taking seriously the voices of the past as well as the present.
  • REASON. I like to think of myself as a rational creature. I am not interested in a stupid faith. My understanding of the world has to be a sensible one. Careful thought, logical examination of the evidence, honest common sense – all of these are vital if I want to get to the truth.
  • EXPERIENCE. Does my view of the world match personal experience? If not, there is something sadly wrong. In fact my own unique experience of life, in physical, mental and spiritual terms, is the raw material from which I derive my understanding of life. Where’s the point in trying to establish the truth based purely on thought-experiments or abstract principles? Truth is to be found in the material, emotional and spiritual roller-coaster of day to day life.


As I said, we must trust each of these guides. Anything which is fundamentally at odds with one or more of them is something to be very wary of.


An interesting aside: A few years ago a group of local ministers were debating this topic over one of our fellowship lunches. All agreed that we need to respect scripture, tradition, reason and personal experience, but there were differences of opinion as to which of these should be given higher priority. The evangelical ministers favoured the Bible and the high church ministers regarded tradition as important. After the meeting I realised that the entire discussion had been conducted on the basis of reason. We did not get out our Bibles and compare texts. We did not quote the wise pronouncements of the church. We did not each insist that we were right because of our own personal experience. We acted as if the truth could be discovered by reason and we debated it in friendly and logical fashion. From that I conclude that to all intents and purposes we live in an age where reason is seen as having higher priority than scripture or tradition – though in a post-modern world personal experience is increasingly becoming the yardstick by which ‘truth’ is measured.


Thursday 20 September 2007

Do and find out

Richard Dawkins has given me some very plausible reasons why I should cease to believe. I am having to think through the reasons why I continue to believe and test their logical validity. The question I am addressing is "How do I know my faith in God, or more specifically in the God revealed in Jesus, is true rather than some kind of self-delusion?"

Today I read the words of Jesus -
"If anyone chooses to do God's will, he will find out..." (John 7:17)
- and realised that doing what God wants (loving him and loving others) is an excellent way to discover the truth about who Jesus is.

Theorising can only get you so far. Practice is important too. There is a world of difference between reading a book about how to win at Limit Hold 'Em Poker (which I did recently - it came free with the Independent newspaper) and risking your hard-earned cash in an on-line game (which I have no intention of doing - ever). I can live with only a theoretical knowledge of poker. I cannot live with only a theoretical knowledge of Jesus.

Wednesday 19 September 2007

Enjoyable moments

Sometimes I am so busy enjoying life that I forget to be grateful, but if I take a few minutes to look back over the last 48 hours, there are a number of things I want to thank God for.
  1. A rather tasty men's luncheon club meal culminating in apple and blackberry sponge.
  2. The relief of getting the CD player to work after some initial problems so that the men could sing-a-long to some good old songs (as an interlude to let our guest entertainer rest her own voice).
  3. An amusing and heartwarming film squeezed in between the men's lunch and the evening local preachers meeting, namely "Run Fatboy Run". Even though towards the end some parts were cheesy and predictable, I found it stirring enough to bring a small lump to my throat.
  4. The satisfaction of being able to take a car-load of rubbish, duly sorted into recyclable categories, to the local tip.
  5. A pleasant walk with S, H and Tessa the dog during which we found enough blackberries still on the bushes to form the basis of blackberry vinegar. (I was given a bottle of home-made blackberry vinegar around 8 years ago which I only ever use to sprinkle on cabbage and make it edible. The bottle is running out and S volunteered to produce a new supply.)
  6. A relaxing postprandial forty winks in the sunshine.
  7. The completion of my tax return two weeks in advance of the deadline. (NB If anyone is wondering what happened to my ministerial responsibilities - Tuesday is my day off.)
  8. Four delightful wall paintings at the local school where I am a governor. I was attending a finance committee, but stopped on the way out to admire the impressive artwork.
  9. A short (20 minutes) but invigorating evening walk accompanied by a long (20 minutes) uplifting prog rock track.
  10. People willing to become my friends on facebook. I had assumed that none of the younger generation would be interested in having an old fogey like me as a friend, but some responded very quickly to my general invitation.
  11. A gripping conclusion to West Wing Season 4. I had not intended to watch further seasons, but now I don't know if I can live with the suspense of not knowing what happens next.
For all the above, and for many other blessings. Thanks, Lord.

The Parable of the Shrewd Manager (help, Lord!)

I am just starting to try and make sense of the parable of the shrewd manager (Luke 16), which is this Sunday's set gospel reading. It is a story about a man who fiddles the account books in order to win friends who will support him when he is dismissed from his post.

My problem is how I preach on this parable. It is not difficult to focus on one particular aspect and draw out a worthy moral. For example, "worldly wealth is not an end in itself, but a resource for gaining more important ends." I've been doing this sort of thing for years. I take a difficult passage from the Bible and find one specific angle to look at it which reveals a nugget of wisdom to share with the congregation.

My question is this (and yes I have probably been influenced by Richard Dawkins and his description of the Bible as a very unpleasant book): Is such a preaching method an honest way of dealing with Scripture? Is it right to ignore the surface immorality of a passage and take the congregation on a hunt for some hidden spark of good news? On the other hand, preaching the plain meaning of the parable ("let's all be devious and dishonest so that we can win the favour of influential people") doesn't seem like a good idea either.

I've painted myself into a corner here. There's only one way out - "Help, Lord! You have four days maximum to show me how I can preach a meaningful, relevant, inspiring sermon which doesn't distort or ignore the overall spirit of the written text."

Monday 17 September 2007

Grungers living in woods

Last Friday one of the grunger gang we met claimed that they had just been evicted from some local woods and had relocated to other nearby woodland. I took this with a large pinch of salt.

Yesterday afternoon, whilst walking the dog, I thought to myself "This would be just the sort of off-the-beaten-track spot for a few youngsters equipped with tents to claim a temporary residence." Next moment I smelt burning and looked around to see a few tents and a campfire. The people were too far away to recognise, so I didn't venture over. But perhaps I shouldn't have been so sceptical. I must apologise next time I see the grungers.

What can Christians learn from Richard Dawkins? 2

The key argument against the existence of God, if I have understood Richard Dawkins correctly, is that introducing the hypothesis of a cosmic designer to explain the complexity of the natural world does not simplify matters but introduces a new level of complexity. If the natural world is so wonderfully intricate in itself, then any entity capable of conceiving and creating it must be even more wonderfully intricate.


Dawkins shows how evolution by natural selection can explain the complexity of life on our planet, and he therefore cannot see how an even more complex being, as a creator God must inevitably be, could come into existence without some kind of evolutionary mechanism.


I acknowledge that evolution explains how something as ‘clearly designed’ at the human eye or the wing of a bird can come about through a simple but powerful process. It follows that the appearance of design can be an illusion. Complexity can be the surprising end result of a simple explanation. It doesn’t follow that complexity (and specifically meaningful, intelligent, seemingly well-designed complexity) always requires some simpler explanatory process. In other words, being able to explain the method by which some complex life came into existence doesn’t imply that all forms of complex life (such as God) can be reduced to a simpler explanation.


This is a very scientific way of approaching reality – trying to understand it by looking for simpler rules and laws which would explain the observed facts. It’s a great way to explore life and one which I enjoy myself. But it’s not the only game in the playground. When it comes to relationships, trying to understand someone by finding simple key concepts that explain their behaviour is probably one of the least helpful approaches. Personal relationships are not about reducing to simple stereotypes, but about embracing the whole breadth and depth of another human life.


I am grateful for Richard Dawkins in making clear that any God worth his salt cannot be a simple, easily understood entity, but has to be a awesomely complex being of fathomless depths. It's a good job we have eternity to get to know him.

Sunday 16 September 2007

Usefulness versus Faithfulness

There are times when I question how useful I am being. Does my presence make any significant difference to a situation? Yesterday afternoon on the Street Pastors stall was a case in point. For over four hours the only conversations I had of any significance were with people I already knew, and there were great wodges of time when I was just hanging around trying to look approachable. Given that I have too little time in my life (I'm convinced God has only given me about 20 hours in the day when he gives most people 24) it's frustrating if I can't see any obvious impact that I'm having.

Then I remember the old adage that I am merely called to be faithful and the results I should leave to God. But that doesn't satisfy me. Not completely anyway. Because I wonder what counts as being faithful.

The honest truth is that I didn't feel particularly frustrated about yesterday afternoon because my concern was not "am I being useful?" I was more concerned, as I usually am, with the question "is this the kind of thing that people expect ministers to be doing with their time?" In other words, I am less bothered about wasting time fruitlessly than about people getting the impression that I'm wasting time fruitlessly.

Being faithful may not lead to obvious or immediate results, but it does require making some effort in that direction. Being faithful means consciously aiming to be the kind of person God wants me to be and to do the kind of things God wants me to do. This is why I feel unfulfilled. Because I drift through the day hoping I can get away with just enough to assuage any personal guilt in myself and create a positive impression in others.

These were my thoughts at the outset of the day. I then resolved to spend my time in conscious consideration of others and their needs. Did I manage it? Largely, yes. After the parade service (which included the congregation acting as a 'Greek chorus' during a sketch, children hunting for jigsaw pieces and fifty party poppers being set off at once), I didn't slip into my usually chatty mode, but listened more than usual and engaged in a few useful conversations. Out for lunch I tried to be circumspect in my contribution to the friendly banter. At least twice I altered my immediate plans to fit in with other family members. I wasn't too impressed with my evening sermon, but I tried to mitigate the deep intellectual meanderings by holding in mind the needs and expectations of the few who gathered.

As a result I'm not sure how useful I've been today, but I've had a decent stab at being faithful.

Saturday 15 September 2007

Street Pastors - looking out for each other

Friday night was one of my evenings to be out on Street Pastor patrol. Each Friday a team of four wander up and down the High Street hoping to engage with and care for whoever we meet. I am on the team around one week in three on average.

To see what we look like check out Orpington Street Pastors
and follow the link to the Street Pastors home page for further information.

Last night was longer and more eventful than usual. We didn't leave the High Street until after 1.30 am, and by the time we had debriefed and prayed together it was gone two.

Here is a sample of the encounters we had:

  • Four lads managed to open the back door of a moving bus and leap out, one sprawling heavily onto the floor, but getting up uninjured.
  • Outside one of the pubs I continued a conversation with J (begun two weeks ago), who said she was desperate to believe but couldn't because of the impossibility of the virgin birth and the resurrection.
  • I was not quick enough to stop some lads pinching my cap and throw it around for a while before growing fed up with the game.
  • Two lads clambered on the roof of a van about to pull out into the traffic. One stood up and issued us with the friendly challenge, "Hey, Street Pastors! Pastor this!" We did so by praying silently that the van would not move until he climbed down.
  • A lady travelling home late with three children would have missed her bus if we hadn't flagged it down for her. (Four buses arrived together and the back one, having disgorged its passengers, didn't appear to be making any effort to pull in at the actual stop.)
  • R and his grunger friends were pleased to see us again. They claimed to be living and sleeping in local woods. (see later post)
  • A girl on her own opened up about all her problems in a long one-to-one chat, and then asked us to accompany her to the entire length of the High Street to where her friends were waiting.

The most difficult moment of the evening was when the two girls crossed the road to encounter a drunk slumped on a bench. They asked the two men to watch their backs, but we didn't realise they expected us to cross the road with them. Instead we watched from a distance and by the time their situation was growing tense and unpredictable we two guardian men had become distracted by conversations of our own. Throughout this I did try to keep an eye on the girls, but was too far away to act swiftly if needed. We discussed in our debriefing what had gone wrong and decided we needed to be clearer in expressing what we expected from each other.

The lesson I learned from this is that teamwork is vital and knowing that we understand each other is an essential part of building up trust. Normally we are very good at looking out for each other, but the occasional hiccup like this reminds us how important it is to care for fellow team members as well as for the people we meet on the street.

Postscript:
My involvement with Street Pastors continued today. After a too-brief sleep I spent the morning writing up my report on the previous night and the afternoon on duty at the Street Pastor stall in the local park. The Sealed Knot were re-enacting life in Orpington during the Civil War (which I mostly missed seeing) and we were there to raise our profile and remind people that the church is part of the community. The park today was sunny and fairly busy. The street last night was dark and largely deserted. But we had far more worthwhile chats last night than today. Alcohol and darkness obviously help stimulate deep conversations.

Friday 14 September 2007

Dualism - Spirit and Flesh

This morning I read the gospel passage for Sunday evening, seeking inspiration for a sermon. The verse which leapt out was John 6:63

“The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing”

My immediate impression was that God was reminding me not to get too hung up on the physical aspects of life, but focus on the spiritual side. Was this an answer to the issue I have been thinking about – an attempt to justify the hypothesis of God’s existence by examining the world we live in? (See the blog which I composed a few days ago, but posted a few moments ago.)


If so, then was God telling me I must see things in dualistic terms, with spirit and flesh representing two different realities? I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea that the human body is a dwelling place for an immortal human soul. To me it makes more sense (and I think is more true to the views expressed in the Bible) that a human being is an indivisible whole – body, mind and spirit. Resurrection is not the survival of a ‘soul’ which is innately deathless. Resurrection is the re-creating of the whole person (admittedly with different kinds of ‘bodies' – see 1 Corinthians 15:35ff) by the power of God. As it happened (coincidence or God still speaking?) when I sat down to breakfast and read the next part of Dawkins’ book I discovered he too doesn’t believe in dualism either.


On the other hand, I am willing to acknowledge that talking about spiritual and physical aspects of a person makes perfect sense. As an analogy, language has a physical aspect (letters on a page or sounds in an ear) as well as carrying meaning. The two are bound up together and even subtly influence each other, but it is still possible to focus on the content of a written passage rather than it’s spelling or the font employed. So what I think God was telling me this morning is that the physical side of existence is not important in itself. Without the Spirit, it would just be stuff happening. With the Spirit, existence comes alive.


What can Christians learn from Richard Dawkins? 1

I have been reading Dawkins’ latest book, “The God Delusion” for at least three reasons.
  • a) A quick browse through suggested that it could be interesting, enjoyable and intellectually stimulating.
  • b) His arguments are becoming increasingly well known. Even if I don’t agree with his conclusions, I ought to have a clear enough grasp of his reasoning to be able to debate the issues.
  • c) If the Christian world-view is true, then it ought to stand up to robust counter-arguments of the kind that Dawkins presents. Therefore I have nothing to worry about in seriously examining the factual and logical evidence that denies God’s existence. I’ll go further. Unless I can start with the same facts Dawkins draws our attention to, and employ the same rigorous powers of logic he brings to bear, and be honest enough with myself that I don’t jump to a foregone conclusion and ignore evidence that doesn’t fit... unless I can do all that and still reason my way to a Christian understanding of God, then my world-view is frankly not worth believing in.


In case any reader thinks I am in danger of actively supporting Richard Dawkins, I should point out that I baulked at the thought of him receiving royalties from my purchase of his book – so I borrowed it from the local library!


Perhaps I shouldn’t begrudge him his royalties, because I have found myself provoked and stimulated. I agree with him at many points (though not his key point, that God is a hugely improbable hypothesis) and he has helped me think through deep issues with greater clarity. Here’s the first of my reflections.


“Science deals with HOW and theology deals with WHY” is a popular cop-out. I agree with Dawkins that theology should not be immune to scientific enquiry. One point he makes is that a universe created and sustained by a personal God who interacts with it (and with its inhabitants) on a daily basis should look different to a universe without God. I have long argued that a God who never interferes with his world or his people might as well not exist. And it impossible to remove such interference from the physical realm. Even if God is limited (and I don’t believe he is) to nudging our thoughts in the right direction, then this constitutes interfering with the firing of neurons in our brain (a physical process).


So, as I look at the kind of universe we live in, does it seem to be a universe with God or a universe without God? It certainly looks to me like the former. I can’t justify this on the basis of scientific experiment. It just the overall impression I get. I know this is hardly very rigorous logic, but maybe I can explain it with an analogy. How do I know my wife is anything more than a physical entity simply responding to external stimuli in particular ways? How do I know that she exists as a ‘person’ like me, with the ability to make free choices, express love and form relationships? My wife with such a personal aspect ought to be different from my wife without it. Yet the difference would be hard to describe in purely scientific terms. It is only by living with her over time that I become convinced that she is a person and not a sophisticated biological automaton.


I know that Dawkins dismisses personal experience as too susceptible to wishful thinking or self-deception. But all I can say is that my experience of the world is that it looks, feels and behaves very much as if it were a world graced by the presence of a loving God.

(see also later post)

Thursday 13 September 2007

Ministerial Accountability

Every few months there is a gathering of ministers from four or five local circuits for discussion and support. We meet at Farringtons School and stay on for lunch. Today we had a lively discussion which mostly centred on the idea of “Extending Discipleship, Exploring Vocation” – the process mentioned under item 2 in my previous blog. One of the strengths of Methodism as I see it is that we are less hierarchical than some denominations, but rely on mutual accountability. Colleagues support and challenge one another. Or at least, after meeting with colleagues I often come away feeling both supported and challenged.


The aspect of today’s conversation which particularly challenged me was the importance of doing my work well, and that means engaging with other people. I recognise that it is vital for ministers to find time for study, reflection and personal spiritual growth. (I’m usually happy to do that.) But it is also vital for ministers to communicate their experience and discoveries to others. (I’m not always so good at that.) Even when working alone, my business ought to be about disseminating important information to appropriate people (hence the need for paperwork) and preparing to lead a congregation into God’s presence through meaningful worship and relevant preaching. I should not work simply to pass the time in a relatively interesting way. I should work for the benefit of others.


The blog as a public spiritual journal

Three things triggered the creation of this blog.


1. At our Methodist London District Synod last Saturday, a speaker made the point that the younger generation have different ways of communicating with each other than the older generation. Churches tend to rely on notice boards, pulpit announcements, weekly news sheets and monthly magazines. Are such methods reaching those who communicate by text, email and internet chat?


2. At the same synod we were told of a new process for those wishing to offer for the ordained ministry. This process includes keeping a journal which records their ongoing development as a Christian disciple. For years, on and off, I have attempted to keep a private journal. Looking back I find that many of the entries are bemoaning my inability to keep on top of administration. I seem incapable of focusing on the important spiritual issues in my life.


I wondered what a journal would look like if I knew it would one day be scrutinised by a panel reviewing my ‘progress’ as a Christian. I would certainly be more circumspect in what I wrote. I would also be forced to think more about what I was doing and learning day by day. Not that I would want to make stuff up just to impress others, but I would (hopefully) avoid simply recording the mundane details of my life. Over lunch I mentioned my thoughts to a colleague whose immediate response was “So you’re going to take up blogging are you?”


3. The Independent newspaper has this week produced a series of booklets under the general heading “How to Master your PC in Seven Days”. Today, the subject is Blogging.



I have therefore decided to make public my spiritual journey...

...or at least the parts of it that are not too intimate or sensitive. I don’t necessarily expect anyone to read my on-line journal, but the very fact that it is publicly accessible ought to make me treat it with greater care than a private diary. I admit this is by way of an experiment. Can blogging be a useful way of aiding the blogger’s personal spiritual development? Time will tell.