As an avid reader of our chef’s daily blog, I was struck by his entry for today when he described the difficulty in saying goodbye and letting go. But not for the obvious reasons even though as the father of 15 and 12 year-old sons I can truly empathise. You see my sister phoned me at lunchtime today to tell me that my aunt had died. She was 82, hadn’t really been well for some time having fallen and broken her hip at Christmas, hadn’t really recovered from the death of my uncle a few years ago and was showing the first signs of dementia. So one part of me thinks release, not just for my aunt but for my cousin, who had virtually given up his own life over the last few months to faithfully serve his mother beyond the call of duty. But the other part issued soft sighs throughout the day as my mind returned to Christmases past and laughing parents, aunties, uncles and nannas of which only my mum now remains; of that look and set of mannerisms she had through which I could see my dad, her big brother, so clearly. Of the laughs we had, the amount she loved my children, of the good Christian woman she was. And therein lies the great comfort for I’m convinced the welcomes and greetings were going on up above well through last night. Funny enough, the last thing I read last night was Dave Branon’s entry in Our Daily Bread when he talks about the loss of his daughter Melissa (and how hard must that have been) and writes "What a grand comfort to know that our departed loved ones who have trusted in Jesus are now living in God’s majestic kingdom!"  And it is, but it’s still hard to let go.

Having seen my aunt alot during her stay in hospital after Christmas, I hadn’t seen her for several weeks over the summer. On Sunday I had an irresistable urge to take my mum down to see her. Little did I know when we said goodbye…..

Justcoffeeforme 

That’s what I get when I follow the instructions: pick up the first book that comes to hand, go to page 123, find the fifth sentence and…Body: le corps. The book is Collins French phrase book and it was sitting at my right hand just under my cup of wussy tea. Not sure if the experiment worked – an exercise in encouraging me to blog. But it got me to thinking in a James Joycean stream-of-consciousness stylee.

The phrase book was there because I had bought it a few weeks ago just before a planned trip to the Somme area in France, with a biking buddy who is interested in militaria. In order to justify a reason for going I had announced that I would track down the final resting place of a great grandfather (soldier no. 15713) on my wife’s family side. There are over 250 military cemeteries in the Somme area alone and you could be forgiven for thinking that they are scattered randomly. But each location tells a story. In my own search I located the documented grave in a small (580 souls) cemetery called, rather disconcertingly: Knightsbridge. On the day of the battle this was a field hospital site where wounded and dying were brought. 15713, Arthur, was shot and wounded on the first day of the battle of the Somme and died of his wounds the following day, aged 30. The neat rows of stones belie the chaos and mass burials which took place at the time. It was only after the war was over that the Allies swept the battle fields (6 times I am informed) in an effort to recover as many body pieces as possible. Geography and the passage of time has dictated that the Knightsbridge site is now surrounded by maize fields, a walled and isolated lawned patch under a big sky in the middle of nowhere. It’s quiet.

Like many before me I am struck by the sheer numbers involved. Thiepval monument with over 70,000 names scribed on its architecture. Serre Road cemetery with over 7,000 burials. Delville Wood cemetery (South African) 5,500 burials and so on and, horrifically,so on. In a big picture like this the little things stand out :
In a cemetery for german soldiers there, scattered amongst the black iron crosses, stand the slate headstones of the german jews who fought ; star of David carved in white with remembrance pebbles on the top edge of the stone instead of poppies.
The momentary shock of seeing my own surname alongside that of my travelling companion engraved on a sandstone slab.
The bland repetition of the date: 1st July 1916.

I hadn’t expected to make contact with all the WW1 stuff. In the end it wasn’t (only) the numbers that got to me but the resonating repetition of the phrase: ‘known only onto God’ on every other plot. I imagine this phrase either being shouted at God for not doing something about the destruction or perhaps, more appealingly, being whispered along with the words: “and sorry for the mess”. There is a need to believe that God ‘knows’. It is just as well that the bible reinforces not only this but that we are encouraged to know Him.

In 10 years time the Somme will have happened 100 years ago. Bodies are still resurfacing, being ploughed up as the land is tilled. Body…le corps. That’s what you get for turning to page 123

Greentea

I am one of those people who always picks up late on things and then gets really excited about them. Some examples: in June my wife and I were engrossed by the first series of 24, which we watched on video, sometimes staying up into the early hours of the morning to watch “just one more episode”. We have now ordered series 1 of "The West Wing", mainly because Andrew Collins recently called it “the greatest TV series ever” in The Word magazine. Even worse, I was about 23 when I discovered the great Van Morrison and it was only about 3 years ago that I decided Johnny Cash wasn’t actually a very good singer and song writer, he was in fact a genius – I guess it was when I saw the “Hurt” video and then bought “When the Man Comes Around”. And I have been buying his back catalogue ever since.

No surprise then that during my summer holiday I finally got around to reading the “Da Vinci Code” by Dan Brown, making me quite possibly the last person in the western world to do so (the book was released in March 2003 and has since topped the bestseller lists in 150 countries). However, in this case, I think it was to my benefit to come so late to something that almost everyone else was referring to as a phenomenon. Because although I hadn’t read the book, I was pretty much up to speed on the hype. In the last year, the book has not only been discussed at the Saturday breakfast table, it has been the topic of a sermon in our church and it has led to several of the Christian groups that I subscribe to sending me out letters, booklets, & even a video. The message is the same – THIS IS FICTION – IT IS NOT THE TRUTH.

So what does the layman make of the book 3 years after its release and several months after the hype finally reached its peak? Well two things really. First, for about the first few hundred pages it is a cracking thriller. Personally though I find it runs out of steam by the time the story switches to England.

Second, no matter what anyone says, I think it IS the truth! No, not the stuff about a mortal Jesus marrying and having a child with Mary Magdalene. I mean the fact that learned scholars, scientists and historians have spent years trying to convince the world that Christianity is ill-founded. Sure they are doing it even more today! Everywhere you look in the western world there are those who patronise, dilute or downright refute our Faith. But surely the point of our Faith is that it is bigger the Dan Brown, Philip Pulman or anyone else who either wants their say or who simply see that they can make a quick buck out of it. So bring it on DB! Personally, I’ll stick with the eleven guys who for a couple of days 2000 years ago might just about have believed you were right, but then realised that their pal really was the way, the truth and the life and were prepared to sacrifice their own lives so that I would learn to believe it too.

Just like Johnny Cash, I knew of Jesus Christ for many years before I Knew Him. And I’m very happy to report that I’m pretty excited and engrossed by Him as well.

JUSTCOFFEEFORME

* Del Amitri (1992)

The summer is here! It’s exam weather, hot and sunny, just like it’s supposed to be. Students are at home revising (allegedly) hoping that they can ‘make up’ for the lack of work done during the year. I continue to be amazed at the differences in approach to their studies shown by boys and girls at this time of year. I know that we are told to avoid gender bias and it’s probably a generalisation but, to me, there is a different dynamic to ‘study groups’ which are for the most part male when compared with those that are mixed or predominantly female. It is not that one is necessarily better than the other but the thought processes and discursive styles demonstrated need to recognised by a teacher if effective learning is to take place.

I don’t think that this issue is exclusive to exam revision techniques. It is not uncommon to find that men feel ‘uneasy’ in some church fellowship settings, such as Fellowship Groups, in which the majority of the members are female.
In some literature I have been reading recently, it has been suggested that this is one of the major issues facing churches in the west. It is considered that the language used and issues raised in a number of church settings can cause real problems for men. For example:

• How do men relate to God in a loving relationship with Him, which is, of course, why He created us in the first place?

• Do the words used in many of our modern praise songs really inspire the ‘male heart’ to worship God?

• When we say we are setting out to win hearts for Christ, do we really understand the ‘male heart’ and how it can be reached?

• If a man’s Spirit is inspired by adventure and challenge, does the church encourage and foster this?

• How does society view the image of the man, Jesus, as portrayed by the church?

Getting together on a Saturday morning for breakfast and Bible study once a month has become a not-to-be-missed occasion for those of us who contribute to this Blog. I have been finding that studying the Book of Amos from a male perspective has allowed my faith to deepen, spurred on by our reflections on how we are expected to live as Christian men in the testing world we live in. Facing up to issues such as God’s view of our sinful nature, how Judgement is viewed by His people and how we treat those in society with whom we have an acquaintance or are called to serve is a challenge which is helping me to discover why God created and shaped me to be the person I am. The issues that are involved with social justice and our responsibilities towards them are certainly becoming clearer. Arriving at a greater understanding of the role of groups such as the Prophets or Nazirites has helped in reaching an understanding of how God works amongst His people, particularly in times of disobedience, drifting and failure to speak the truth with conviction.

Male breakfasts are not just for the church. A group of my male colleagues and I have been meeting together for an ‘Ulster Fry’ in the school canteen each Friday morning. It just seems like a good idea, which we look forward to every week. I’m sure that there is a lesson here for the church in general as it addresses the problems caused by lack of male membership. I attended a joint Men’s Fellowship shared between three of our local churches this week and again found the time spent together to be both inspiring and encouraging. It is hoped to repeat it in the autumn.

Having said all this I must confess that June will be different! It won’t be a breakfast-time meeting for our ‘Where’s-Me-Breakfast’ group; instead a World Cup Barbeque is planned, to include study/ discussion, food and a match. I can assure all our readers that I am looking forward to it as much as ever.

As for the present, it’s an afternoon shared between watching van-Nistelrooy and the Stanley Cup Final between Carolina and Edmonton (ice-hockey for the uninitiated!).
“Let’s Go Oilers…….”

Salty Scrambled

Picked this up from Brian McLaren’s blog:

“While in Sydney, I had my first day “out of the pulpit” as a pastor. (The previous Sunday didn’t count because we crossed the International Date Line, passing from Saturday night directly to Monday morning!) It was a completely free day for us. We had an experience that I thought I’d share. It was a truly holy and glorious moment and I felt God spoke to me through it.

We walked down to the “Circular Quay” where the famous Sydney Opera House is situated. Across from the Opera House is a district called “The Rocks” – full of shops, sidewalk booths, etc. It was a perfect summer day, beautiful breeze, blue sky, sailboats filling the bay behind us. A jazz group was playing on a stage in a courtyard, and we got something to eat and enjoyed their music. A middle-aged couple got up and started dancing – they were amazing! Then an old lady got up, then an old man, and soon there were half-a-dozen people spontaneously dancing to this beautiful music – blues, swing, etc.

Near the stage, I noticed a five or six year old boy who appeared mentally handicapped. He was absolutely entranced with the music. He put up a fist to his mouth as if it were a trumpet and pretended to play it with his other hand. Soon, without realizing it, he had moved out beside the stage. His eyes were closed and he was playing his heart out on his imaginary trumpet. The sax player noticed this, and the hopped off the stage and stood beside the young guy. When he opened his eyes, the sax player started dancing around as he played and the little boy followed his lead. Then the trumpet player saw them, and he came down. The little boy in between the two musicians … “playing” and dancing in an obvious state of ecstasy – the audience started applauding and I know my eyes were overflowing with tears to see something so beautiful and spontaneous and glorious.

Then I looked back to where the boy had been, and his grandfather was standing there in obvious delight to see his grandson so happy. I leaned over to Grace and whispered, “It’s a glimpse of the kingdom of God.”

It was a perfect end to our time in Sydney, and that scene will stay with me as a reminder that God is at work everywhere, if only we have eyes to see.”

I should’ve expected it really …. Not long back from yet another injury, I was trying to lift my weekly running mileage in preparation for running a leg of the Belfast Marathon relay in May. So on Friday, instead of having my usual rest day, I decided to try to run a “hard 3” on the treadmill. To be frank, I never really got going. At 2 miles I was really struggling and at 2.5 miles the wheels came off. I was disappointed, dejected and depressed. I just wished I had taken the rest day. I just wished that I hadn’t bothered trying to do that little bit extra.

A lot of preachers and speakers, especially those with an athletic background, will use the race analogy to describe the Christian’s journey through life. Sure I’ve done it myself in a 10 minute Centre spot at our church youth club! Let’s face it, Paul makes it pretty easy for us: “let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (Hebrews 12.1); “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4.7). All we need to do is extend the analogy to include proper preparation (the various running training sessions twinned with Bible Study, Prayer & Meditation), right diet (physical v spiritual nourishment – we’re on a roll here!), training with friends (Bible Study & prayer with friends), avoiding temptation etc and hey! It’s just like the God channel! Show ‘em your London Marathon medal, high fives all round, no bother!

So it’s a real bummer when your running is rubbish, when the knees always feel sore, when the hamstrings always feel tight, when it’s hard to get out of bed for the training session, and your subscription to “Runner’s World” has lapsed so you’re reading “What Car?” instead? But it’s a much more sobering thought when you realise that your training for your real judgement day leaves a lot more to be desired. And the sad thing is that while there’s an excuse for middle-aged legs packing in, there’s no real excuse for curtailed devotions, rushed Bible Study and missed prayer meetings.

When you tell another runner you are running badly, they will invariably tell you that you need a target; that having the race in your calendar will focus the mind, squeeze that bit extra out of the body and help you deal with the discomfort. But every Christian already knows their target, so why do we so often neglect our preparation for it? Maybe if Paul was around today he’d write something like “of course it’s hard sometimes. Of course there’ll be nights when the wind and rain is lashing in your face. But remember who is at the finishing line waiting for you. Remember He will never judge harshly those who give of their very best whatever the result. And remember how lucky you have been that your entry form for this race was so willingly accepted……. So get your bloody finger out and Just Do it!”

Justcoffeeforme

Our Saturday morning get-togethers once a month have now become a not to be missed occasion. Many other events have to be fitted in around them due to the importance given to them. Why is this, I have been asking myself? (typical teacher most will be thinking). Is it the food, the ‘craic’/ banter, the chance to meet with a group of like-minded men, the Bible centred discussions…?
Is it not just another ‘religious’ meeting, one of many, which I could go to?

Religious is definitely not a suitable description.
A Christian colleague and I were having a discussion last week as we were supervising the children assembling for class. Another member of staff, who knew of our background, commented, “I assume you two are having a conversation about religion”. We were actually discussing the relative merits and recent results of Man. United and Arsenal at the time and so, in unison, we both replied with the only possible response – YES!

So if it’s not a religious discussion, what is it? We certainly spend a lot of time discussing our, at times, fanatical support of various Premiership teams (and Leeds) but it is the thought provoking insights about our shared faith and their effects on our lives which have made the mornings become core events every month. The principles explored in the Scriptures allied with the shared wisdom, experience and stories that are brought to the table become, to me, values that continue to be reflected upon long after we have gone our separate ways each morning.

I’m really looking forward to ‘getting into’ the Minor Prophets and seeing how God worked in the lives of, at times, ordinary individuals. I anticipate that, as always, I will arrive at a greater understanding of how He is working in mine!

The two-week Easter break (i.e. for teachers) has almost arrived so now there will be time for music, reading, gardening and relaxing. Joy!
I wonder what others will be doing?

Things cost. Do you really get what you are pay for? Lets see now: to build a house in Noriron (thats Northern Ireland to those in Illinois) costs about approximately £8-900 / square metre (sqm), to build a house in Norway costs about £1,800 / sqm. To build a public building in Noriron costs about £1,000 / sqm, hospitals perhaps £2,000 / sqm including beds and oxygen. Grafton Street in Dublin is the sixth most expensive street in the world to rent (about 2,500/sqm). Do you get what you pay for? Well, are you paying for an ‘investment’ , or perhaps a ’shelter’ or even a ‘public service’. Would you pay for a name? The people who just bought Body Shop thought it was worth it for £150million (this might include buildings as well).

Theres something buzzing around my head about buying into the entire alphabet, alpha to omega, and I’m sure it will land on my mind soon. All this because I heard on today’s news of a number plate being sold for £80,000. Thats £1,398,601 / sqm by my calculations. And the plate…’BIG 1′
Help me out here.

greentea

On Saturday past I watched my 14 year old son pivot on his heels over the edge of a twelve storey building. The only thoughts going round my head were ones of fear, sickness and pride. The first two because I had done the same thing before and the memories made me want to puke, the third because he had overcome a long standing fear of heights to take part in a sponsored abseil. Sorry, I neglected to mention he was attached to a robust harness, two safety lines which in turn were anchored to the very best that British Steel could muster and oh yes and he had a hard hat (never quite sure why). There was the anticipation of the ‘jump’ on the journey to the venue, followed by the banter with his mates when we arrived, thinly veiling the bile rising unceremoniously in everyones stomach. I watched him struggle to implement all that he had been taught in the expansive ten minutes of tuition and guidance given just before the descent. I watched the pain as he slid, kicked, pondered and bounced his way down a very smooth 1960’s concrete edifice. He did it, he landed and all was well with the world again

This is a story one could tell in the fellowship of christians, usually incorporating the words…’and you know it’s just like that with God’. There would follow various parallels, some clear some tenuous, about faith, or fears, or about being in Gods hands or perhaps touching on ascension / descension and so on. But what I most remember about the event was the look on my son’s face as his feet touched the ground. It was not just one of nervous relief or even repressed shock – that will come when he is my age – but a look that said: “I did it, its over, I nearly wrecked myself, feel proud if you want to but don’t ever ask me to do it again”.

There is a case to plead, I believe, that at some stage in the faith walk, christians should have witnessed God’s awesome plan / presence / power to such a degree that it’s downright scary. So much so that at the end all you can say to God is: ‘feel proud if you want to but don’t ever ask me to do it again’. Too often we are more comfortable with signing the sponsor form and taking photographs as opposed to getting involved with the ‘plan’. By the way there is no surer way of getting a teenager to hang off a building than by saying: ‘ It will scare you witless and take your breath away… don’t even think about trying this at home’. Maybe there is a lesson to learn about the constant dumbing down of the christian message and lifestyle. Is there mileage in an anti-advertising for christianity? Jesus talked about taking Him and his message seriously, not trivialising but becoming involved, with all the ’scary’ moments that entails. Lets face it by the time my son tells the story in school on Monday morning, fear will have turned into heroism and he will not be able to wait until the next sponsored bungy jump off some dodgy bridge.

PS. I did offer to abseil down with the wee lad but I just had to give up my place for others…I had to give him his moment of glory…there were too many watching…it was a bit windy…they needed someone on the ground to untie the ropes…I had a piece of grit in my eye…

posted by greentea