Tuesday 7 March 2023

Amen

After nearly six years, I can hardly call myself '.newly retired' any more. And all things must pass, though, as St Teresa added' God never changes'. Age has brought its infirmities, and I think the time to end these crumbs from off the children's table has come. 

I look back on a period of blogging whilst in parish ministry which saw over four hundred posts, and a solid number here- about 650 in all, some good, some bad, some few nuggets, but all marking something of my journey in God, some stumblings into heaven, where the landscape always astonishes me with its unfamiliarity- so much to be learned. 

So this is the last posting. New pastures, new landscapes, call, and I wait to see the journey, the landscape ahead. Eventually it will lead to a city, the Good Book tells me, but I shall not be able to report from there. 

Travel well. The Lord be with you. 

Sunday 12 February 2023

fresh bread

 There's nothing like the smell, then the taste, of fresh bread. Hot, straight out of the oven ( more likely the bread making machine today), or cold, thickly cut, preferably with raspberry jam. Heaven!. The fragrance of home baked bread lingers for most of the day; I smell it late in the evening as I come down the stairs. 

I am the bread of life, says Jesus. Chew on me. Let me be refreshment and nourishment for you. Let me be heaven for you. 

Mmm. The invitation's there, and the bread, I have found, is always fresh,  worth chewing on. It's made real each week, it's a reminder every week, in ' The body of our Lord Jesus Christ, keep you in eternal life', as I eat the bread at Communion. Let it be- a constant source of nourishment.  

Sunday 22 January 2023

connected

 As I write this, I am looking across to my son on sofa, with his dog. Yes, The Dog, of whom I have written before. He lies across my son's lap, one paw resting on Matthew's chest, his head on Matthew's knee, half his body connecting with his owner. 

Matthew meanwhile is on his phone. But The Dog is content;- he doesn't have to have Matthew's constant attention- he is satisfied with connection, in this case, physical. 

It speaks to me of our relationship with God. We don't crave his attention all the time- we are content to be connected. For us, it's prayer, the eucharist, worship, and the rest, but without the physical element of God here in bodily form. 

What image could you offer to encapsulate something of your connection with God? 


Sunday 8 January 2023

Waiting

 When The Dog was with us over Christmas and New Year, I was struck by his alertness to his master's presence, his master's absence. Once, when the master ( our son ) was cleaning the car, The Dog positioned himself with front legs on the arms of the sofa, and so was able to see any movement out of the front windows towards the activity around the car. Or else put himself by the lounge door, sniffing for any tell-tale signs that the master might be just behind it. 

I do not claim that these actions are in any way unique, just that they find parallels in the gospel narratives. Through Advent we observed a period of waiting, expecting, culminating in the season of Christmas, when the promise of a Messiah, a Saviour for humankind comes about. The human equivalent of tail-wagging was much in evidence as Christmas dawned.

Here on the first Sunday of Epiphany, that waiting can be seen again, as Jesus manifests himself to the world in different ways. ,By that I mean that the waiting and expectation can now be up-close and personal, waiting, variously patiently and impatiently, for Jesus to reveal himself to us, alert to any sign he is near, he is with us. Yes, Immanuel, 'God with us'- with US, even me, even ME! What will be your equivalent of tail-wagging as the wait is over, and Jesus reveals himself to me, to you? How low are your expectations of God?