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.