New Week's Resolution #3

Result of NWR#1 (rising early): 7
Result of NWR#2 (fruit and veg): 7
Both of these are maximum scores. I had to put in some effort to eat my five portions of fruit and vegetables each day. The main cooked meal never had more than one portion, so I had to supplement it with two portions of fruit (apples, grapes or dates) plus my breakfast dried fruit and juice. Eating all this healthy food didn't stop me enjoying copious amounts of chocolate too.

Next week my resolution is that I will not indulge in any trivial pursuit on the computer (such as playing Slitherlink or Light Up; reading Order of the Stick; using Stumble to browse random pages) until I have spent at least 30 minutes working on my backlog of post and email. I've not yet decided whether to count a day when I do neither of these things as a success (because it follows the letter of the law) or a failure (because the backlog is not reduced). Hopefully I will not have such a day.

Life as choice rather than habit

Alicia, a blind girl, feels Ben's craggy face.

Alicia: (sympathetically) So sad.
Ben doesn't react but continues with hangdog expression.
Alicia: (reassuringly) Hey. Being different isn't always a bad thing.
Ben: Trust me. This ain't one of them times.
Alicia looks disappointed.
Alicia: Not if you don't want it to be.


This is just one of many recent comments I have heard or read which suggest that life (in this case our attitude regarding our self-image) is more about what we choose rather than what happens to us. This is both true and simplistic. Choosing to change our attitudes, our habits and our lifestyles is within our power, but it is not easy and not a one-off decision. We are creatures of unconscious habit. A good thing too - you couldn't possibly get through the day if every action had to be carefully considered and decided upon. We rely extensively on automatic behaviour when it comes to simple actions like walking or brushing our teeth, or more complex activities like driving or writing sermons. Having such a propensity for unconscious action makes changing our habits difficult. Often we don't even recognise that they ought to be changed.

This is where the Spirit can help. He guides, provokes and prompts us when it is time to change. He strengthens our will-power to make the right choices.

One of my ingrained habits is that when faced with a fairly clear diary (as today for example), I tend to potter about doing little bits here and there rather than tackle the major jobs. And it's not uncommon (as with yesterday late afternoon for example) for this pottering to have far more to do with idle personal amusement than Christian ministry. So my conscious choice for today is: Get on with the three big tasks, namely preparing a thorough agenda for Sunday afternoon's joint circuit staff and stewards meeting; preparing two services for Sunday; considering and clarifying my ideas about the future of the Mission committee ready to present to them tonight. The shorter tasks can wait until these three are finished.

Committees can be a blessing in disguise

Last night's pastoral meeting didn't go quite as I'd planned. I had identified over 40 people who are officially church members but who for a variety of reasons (some because they have moved away but never settled in another church) do not attend or even take an interest. I wanted to write to them all saying (as tactfully as I could) that unless they could persuade me to retain their membership it was high time to remove them from our list - bearing in mind that this would not prevent them receiving the church magazine if they wanted or being made welcome if they ever turned up at church.

The meeting agreed that it was ridiculous to keep all these people on our membership roll, but didn't like the idea of a letter. The feeling was that they each needed a visit from the minister. Where they lived at a distance I should instead contact the local Methodist minister and transfer their membership. I have to admit my heart sank at the prospect of putting in all this effort, especially when I have low expectations of any positive results. But on reflection, the meeting was quite right. I shouldn't attempt to dismiss any of these lapsed members too lightly.

And what was God saying to me through this? I think he was reminding me that I can't think and plan my ministry in splendid isolation. I need other people. I need different perspectives. I need encouragement and challenge from fellow Christians. I am not a solo performer, but part of a living vibrant body of believers.

I think there's light at the end of the tunnel

As I speculated, I did reach fifth heaven yesterday. The holiday was booked without undue difficulty. I had a helpful conversation in an Apple shop about the possibilities of replacing my PC laptop with a MacBook. The postman delivered two external hard drives (one of them is bound to crash sooner or later but if I keep my backup storage on both, then all will not be lost) and these seem to plug and play very easily. Even the fact that a spring in my study chair broke (making it less comfortable but still functional) did not dent my cheeriness.

By the by, we booked our holiday in a converted mill by the river Stour just outside Blandford Forum in Dorset. A news item on the radio this morning said that since licensing hours were extended only a small proportion of pubs have been granted a 24-hour licence, and only two in the entire country actually remain open for 24 hours a day - both of them in Blandford Forum! I wonder if we will be disturbed by the drinkers of Dorset converging on us at all hours of day or night.

But more importantly: One of my emails yesterday contained the comment that some feel the church has lost its way and is looking to me for strong leadership. I was supposed to write a paper for tomorrow's Church Strategy Group to address such an issue, but have not yet done so and so have postponed the meeting. The good news is that I am starting to get an inkling of where we might go as a church. Something about making disciples and how that might revitalise our particular congregation. I can preach on it and submit a paper to the congregation at the same time. The thoughts are not yet fully formed, but I've made a start. Better still, it does feel like the prompting of the Spirit rather than my own desperate ideas.

It's the little things that bring happiness

It's amazing how trivial things can radically affect one's mood. This morning life seemed a little grey and dreary. The walk in the woods did lead to a geocache, but the mud and the constant drizzle took the edge off the pleasure. But by noon three simple facts have cheered me up. One is that the ministers fellowship is not happening tomorrow but next week. Given that I have a communion service, a funeral and a pastoral visitors meeting (all needing preparation), one less meeting is a real treat. The second bit of cheering news is that we have managed to get H's camcorder connected properly to the computer - something we failed to do last night despite considerable time and effort. Thirdly, I have won a CD on ebay (the bidding ended last night but I forgot to check until just now) and at a bargain price too!

So the day looks brighter. The rain has stopped. I am taking H to see "St Trinians" this afternoon. My sandwiches and lunch are beckoning. I don't have to worry about work for the rest of the day. (It's my day off if anyone is wondering.) If by bedtime I can find the right place to book for a summer holiday then I will be in fifth heaven. (It would be exceptional for my emotional state to reach any higher.)

Is it wrong to feel happy over such basically unimportant things? What about the state of the world - not to mention the church and my own contribution to it? What about the poverty of my spiritual life? Perhaps one of God's greatest blessings is the ability to set aside all the major difficulties of life for a while and enjoy the simple pleasures.

Discovering the truth through experimentation

I've just finished "MetaMaths" by Gregory Chaitin. When I say 'finished' I mean I've read the main body of the book. I didn't feel inspired to continue into the lengthy appendices. It's not the best maths book I've read. The style is idiosyncratic and the subject matter could be summed up as "Godel and Turing had some good ideas, but here, in chatty style with lots of words in bold print for emphasis, is a flavour of my own ground-breaking contribution."

However, Chaitin does put forward some interesting mathematical and philosophical concepts. One is that maths is less logical and more intuitive than most people think. People like Godel and Turing have shown that however carefully you construct your mathematical system, there will always be true statements that cannot be proved and solutions that cannot be computed. Chaitin says that mathematics, like physics, relies on experimentation rather than pure logic to uncover the truth.

This has settled my mind somewhat in regard to the issues raised by Dawkins (see various posts early on in this blog). The truth about God is not going to be found only by sitting down and thinking about it, but by experimenting with it. When I behave as if God exists and loves me, what happens? Does my life make sense? Does the Christian faith begin to ring true when it is put into practice? Let's see, shall we...

Forward is easier than reverse

We sang a hymn tonight in which the third line of music was similar to another hymn. I racked my brains for ages trying to work out which other hymn it reminded me of. I could hear the words that went with the familiar third line - "Look down with sad and wondering eyes" - and I could complete the verse by singing the fourth line - "To see the approaching sacrifice." - but there was no way I could work backwards. The earlier words and the earlier tune remained stubbornly out of my grasp until one of the church stewards provided the answer: "Ride on, ride on in majesty". The verse I was remembering is the one which continues "The winged squadrons of the sky..."

And the moral? There are many other progressive things which are far easier to follow in one direction than another. Hymns, songs and poetry are prime examples. Given the second line the mind can naturally supply the third, fourth and beyond, but just try thinking your way back to the first line and it's either hard work or nigh on impossible. So I reckon God is telling me that the easiest way from here is forward. Start where I am and get going. Don't try working my way backwards to some earlier state. This is who I am. This is what I know. These are the issues in my life. These are the skills I have developed. This is the situation I am facing. So get on and deal with it. It will be far easier than trying to turn the clock back.

New Week's Resolution #2

Result of NWR#1 (rising early): 5 (out of 7) but not because of poor willpower - I simply didn't wake up early on New Year's Eve and after a late party I decided to sleep in on New Year's Day.

This week my resolution is to eat five portions of fruit or vegetable each day. Apparently I can count my morning fruit juice as one. I normally sprinkle a little chopped dried fruit on my breakfast muesli, and I can easily increase the amount to a full portion. Then all I need to do is have one piece of fresh fruit during the day and ensure I get at least two veg with my meat.

Drab-tinted spectacles?

Some weeks ago I received a letter about the parlous state of worship in churches today. The writer clearly felt passionately about it and was writing to every minister she could in order to disseminate her views - relying on the old techniques of photocopying and the Royal Mail rather than publishing on the internet. Her point was that worship may be informative, interesting and of a high standard, but it is not honouring God. It doesn't drive us to our knees in penitence. It doesn't set before us the saving power of the cross. It doesn't centre on the awesome nature and love of God. Her conclusion was that practically every service of worship across Britain causes God to shake his head in disappointment. She said she had only once in her life attended a service that could count as 'true' worship. She didn't say where and when this remarkable event took place.

I filed this letter in my recycled paper box thinking, "it can't be as bad as that!" But today's breakfast reading painted a similar picture of the church regarding discipleship, pointing out that we have almost entirely forgotten the great command of Jesus - not to convert people, but to make disciples. Who, in today's church, seriously devotes every waking moment to working out how to do things in the way Jesus would do them? (See the two previous posts.) It left me feeling mildly depressed. The world is in a mess. The church ought to be a beacon of light but isn't. The state of my own discipleship is nothing to write home about. What a gloomy prospect.

Or am I seeing things through whatever the opposite of rose-tinted spectacles is? Does God really look at the state of the British church and throw up his hands in horror?

How did Jesus cope? The world was just as awful a place in his day, and the state of religion was as bad, if not worse. Did Jesus despair? No - he enjoyed life to the full. He had a reputation as a glutton and a winebibber. (A lovely word - a shame it's fallen out of fashion.) How could he go to parties if things were so bad? The way he coped with the mess was to do something about it. He knew he was surrounded by pain, problems and sinfulness, but he didn't wallow in despair. He talked to God about it. He helped the people he came across. He taught and demonstrated the right way to live. Ultimately he gave up his life to redeem the world from its awfulness.

So then - nil desperandum! "Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark; for better help you will not find." (As Gandalf said to Theoden.) When I went into the kitchen this morning to find it in a mess, did I despair? No - I set to work washing up. I admit the church and my life (among other things) are way off being perfect, but there's nothing wrong with them that can't be put right with prayer, time and effort.

Searching greatly increases the chance of finding

The theme of my epiphany sermon and my breakfast reading today had a great deal in common. Was this mere serendipity or was God telling me that my thoughts so far on the sermon were along the right lines? In either case the lesson is one I need to apply to myself not just teach others. This is it:

If you want an epiphany you have to go looking for it. Unlike the shepherds, who were literally minding their own business when a moment of glorious revelation overwhelmed them, the wise men had to work out the clues for themselves, go on a journey, arrive at the wrong destination, take advice, put their trust in the wrong person (but realise it before too late), recognise a familiar sign and eventually reach the right place.

Being a disciple is a matter of choice. It is not going to happen by merely getting on with life and hoping for the best. I need to spend time reading about Jesus, thinking through the issues that his gospel raises, talking to him, listening for a response and trying out any newly-discovered guiding principles to see if they work. None of this will happen unless I decide to do it.

This is a good a moment as any to set down my decision: I choose to be a disciple of Jesus.

HWJDI and WWJD

Being a disciple of Jesus (according to Dallas Willard whose book I am reading over breakfast sometimes and getting through very slowly) does not mean trying to live the life Jesus did but trying to work out how Jesus would live my life. So in terms of work, for example, being a disciple doesn't involve taking up carpentry, but being the kind of Methodist minister Jesus would be. Hence the question to ask is not so much "What would Jesus do?" but "How would Jesus do it?"

Today I have to lead a Bible study (two actually - the same one repeated). How would Jesus go about it? How would he present Philippians 3 to the particular group due to gather today? I also have to accompany my mother to St Pancras and see her safely on her way home, then stay on in London to help my wife buy a coat (a belated 50th birthday present from her brother). How would Jesus do that? How would he spend time with family?

These are good questions to ask. But they are not quite enough. It's all very well asking HWJDI in relation to the particular ways I intend to spend my time today, but on what basis do I make choices about the activities I pursue? My present method is to do the things I've got to do or the things scheduled in my diary and after that (or often, in chronological terms, before that) just do whatever occurs to me on the whim of the moment. I need to ask WWJD, not regarding a particular situation but regarding my overall plans for the day (or week or whatever).

Today's answer to 'what' is (I think) lead the Bible studies; look after my family; start preparing for Sunday; make decisions about which important jobs need to be tackled early in the new year. The answer to 'how' is varied but includes adverbs like 'well', 'with care' and 'compassionately'.

Enough

The New Year began with me learning to cope with disappointment. Last night season two of The IT Crowd was shown in its entirety. The previous night I had recorded the whole of season one and put it on DVD to be seen at my leisure. This morning I wanted to do the same for season two. But I put a chapter marker in the wrong place and in trying to remove it I deleted five and a half episodes (out of six). Logic tells me not to be distraught over this. After all, I have seen all the episodes when they were first broadcast. And by and large I managed to shrug philosophically and not let this mistake spoil my day.

So it was appropriate that this week's article from The Alban Institute was about the guiding principle of 'enough'. I don't need more DVDs waiting to be watched. I have enough already. I'm always talking about trying to live a simpler lifestyle. I should be rejoicing that when my will-power lets me down, my technical incompetence steps in to help out.

What and where is the narrow gate?

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

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

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

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

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

New Week's Resolution #1

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

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

The best laid plans...

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

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

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

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

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

Should I become a more snappy dresser?

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

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

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

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

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

Starting to feel my age

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

Until yesterday.

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

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

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

How to steal from a church

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

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

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

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

Living in Hedonicity

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

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

Strictly Come Dancing - I know how they feel

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


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

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

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