Category: Personal

My father-in-law, 1928-2006

As my reader will have noticed I haven’t been blogging for several days: my father-in-law was rushed into intensive care on Saturday following a heart attack and died there on Sunday. I’ve been reflecting on how his lack of interest in spiritual matters has impacted us.

In the immediate aftermath of his death I faced the problem of how to tell our daughter Rebekah who is not quite three. In the end I compared to the death of the family dog last September. Just as the ‘doggy doctor’ wasn’t able to help him any more and Father God and Jesus said to our dog "Come to Heaven where we will make you better," so the doctors hadn’t been able to make Poorly Grand-dad (as she called him) better either, and so likewise Father God and Jesus had taken him to heaven to make him better.

I was dubious about giving this explanation, but it was the only one I could think of. I am by no means a universalist in my theology and while not for one moment would I ever want to do the fire and brimstone routine I didn’t want to tell her something that I’d need to backtrack on later, as if I had lied to her. I have taken refuge in the old approach that you don’t know what goes on between a dying person and God at the end, although I sometimes think that gets trotted out as the get-out-of-jail card.

I have remembered too a man who was always kind towards me and interested in what I was doing. Even if he really didn’t have a clue about my calling and profession, he always showed an interest. For that he was an example to many.

In particular my memory has gone back to his speech at our wedding. When Debbie told him she was going to remarry and to a ‘vicar’ he was quite worried. He knew he would have to watch his language in front of me (not that it seems he had in front of his daughter). To his credit he did his best on that. Only rarely did I hear him blaspheme – which I’ve always considered far worse than words beginning with ‘F’ and ‘C’. It was his way of showing respect – quite a theme in the light of recent events in the news, I think.

He also said that when he knew I was a ‘vicar’ he was worried about meeting me. Apparently what put him at ease was that I turned up wearing jeans. It made me recall the time I made a funeral visit to a young couple whose two-year-old had died of a brain tumour. I explained on the phone when making the appointment that my clerical shirts were in the wash and so I wouldn’t be turning up in a dog collar. At the end of the visit they told me how relieved they were that I had turned up in ‘civvies’. It made them realise I was just like them. They had truly feared meeting a ‘priest’.

That leaves me thinking how sad it is that non-Christians fear meeting
Christians and Christian leaders in this way. How unapproachable are
we? How detached from real life? How holier than thou?

Last Christmas I had to wrap and label my own present from him. I had a bit of fun with the label. On it I put his regular signing-off-on-the-phone expression: ‘All the best’. In a way I wish I could say that to him now, with deeper meaning. Rest in peace. All the best.

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Luck and Providence

I mentioned in my last post what happened to my car. This has been the latest in a whole string of things that have happened to us since we moved here five months ago. My wife had a serious ear infection, she has also had back and knee problems, her father has been very ill, and many other things that are of a personal nature and cannot be mentioned on a public medium like the web.

What has surprised me is how little many of the Christians we are in contact with here make any reference to God when talking about these things. Their language is no different from friends outside the church. We’ve had ‘bad luck’. They wish me ‘good luck’ with my car. When I say that to Debbie and me it feels as if someone doesn’t want us here they don’t get the meaning.

We’re not for seeing the devil behind every problem, but the level and range of continued problems has led us to consider that possibility very seriously.

I’m also not the kind of person whose view of divine sovereignty amounts to an idea of God writing the script and us saying the words, or God being a puppeteer pulling the strings that make us move. But I still have a deep sense of providence, of divine permission and so on. Yet when I talk of providence it seems to draw blank stares from Christians. When the car crash happened, two witnesses saw the culprit trying to escape. Not only that, a police car came along the street around that time on a regular patrol. I think providence is an acceptable way to talk about that.

And I also suspect that the ‘luck’ language isn’t accidental, even if the precise meaning may not have been thought through. We just don’t seem to be able to bring God into everyday conversation and everyday life. What is wrong? In the words of a report to last year’s Methodist Conference, it’s Time To Talk Of God.

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Miroslav Volf and the Car Crash

Little did I know when posting yesterday on Miroslav Volf and forgivenesss that I would soon have to think about his teaching. Last night my car was parked outside one of my churches while I chaired a Church Council. During the meeting a driver came at high speed and smashed into the car parked behind me, which was forced into mine. The culprit tried to escape but two witnesses prevented him. By sheer providence a police officer was driving through the village on patrol at just the right time and so he was apprehended. This morning an officer has come to take my statement and I have learned he has been charged with drink-driving. I truly believe it is possible to keep forgiveness and justice together. The problem only comes wen justice mutates into revenge.

I was pretty calm about it last night but I think I have a touch of delayed reaction this morning. So I thought  that after phoning the insurers and speaking to the garage I needed to do something relaxing – blogging will do! I’ll try to justify it along the lines of spiritual journalling!

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New Year Resolutions?

There are all sorts of Christian blogs on new year resolutions – e.g., here and here by Maggi Dawn. I’m not one for resolutions, they always seem a bit too legalistic for me. I prefer the notion of the Methodist Covenant Service at the beginning of the year, where we make solemn promises and commitments to God, but all in the light of his grace and unwavering love.
 
However my daily Bible reading yesterday (I use Scripture Union’s Encounter With God notes) was deeply challenging. The passage was Matthew 4:18-25. Simon and Andrew leave their nets to follow Jesus, James and John leave their boat to do the same. The notes (by John Grayston) included the following. It leaves me with questions about what it would really mean for me to get out of the ‘boat’ I am in as a Methodist minister, where a lot of people want the ‘safe’ option, the temptation is to give precisely that, and the system adds pressures in that direction, too.

The call is to leave all that is familiar, that makes sense of life and provides security … How is it that to follow Jesus has become, for so many, too easy? … What demands has our faith made of us? … Instantly, the early followers are plunged into a community where they see God at work in new ways. They live on the edge, not only in terms of the sacrifice they have made but also in the way they experience God.

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We finally moved

Long time no blog. It’s three and a half weeks since we moved and finally we’ve nearly unpacked everything. A combination of moving with two small children plus having to move rather closer to the date I was beginning ministry here have had their effect. Just got to set up the hi-fi now, I think.

It’s a much smaller house. We knew that, of course. We’d been Mr and Mrs eBay for several months prior to the move. Some much-loved old possessions had to go. In my case I said goodbye to over a thousand vinyl LPs. Some I sold, others had to go to the dump.

But the house has been beautifully decorated and refurbished. A working party from one of my churches removed all the prickly plants from the garden to make it safe for our children. Some basic food and drink was here for us to see us through our first few days. They even bought some toys to amuse the kids while the removal men did their work.

We’ve also found them to be uncommonly principled and generous in what they pay for expenses, too. The circuit stewards (don’t worry if you’re not a Methodist, it’s simply the senior ‘lay’ office in a Methodist circuit) had told us repeatedly that they look after their ministers.

We’ve also found it to be a lovely area for bringing up the children. The area where our manse was situated in the last appointment was pretty grim. In the Old Testament ‘salvation’ can mean being brought into a spacious place: the house here may not be spacious, but the area has that feel. We feel peaceful about our children being here.

So if I think of the move as also being a spiritual journey what have I learned so far from it? A number of things:

I’ve learned to do without some cherished possessions. However I shouldn’t sound too virtuously ascetic there, because we were able to buy a new digital SLR camera, so I can revive an old hobby. I had had to sell my old film SLR gear.

Then there is the love we have received. It’s been amazing. The mantra we kept hearing, “We look after our ministers”, had been hard to believe before we came, mainly due to previous bad experiences, where much was trumpeted and little delivered. I have to learn not to let old scars damage the way I treat new people. I thought I was better at that than I obviously am.

Not that I am expecting a picnic here. I am clearly in a different spiritual tradition to at least two of the three churches I am serving, but we’ll see how it goes. We firmly believed God had led us to accept this appointment, and we wait to see some of the reasons why he brought us here. Watch this space.

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London

I am a Londoner. Although neither I nor any of my relatives live there any more, today’s vile news has hit me hard. My father used to take the train each morning to Liverpool Street and then a tube to Aldgate East. My sister used to commute to Edgware Road. Friends used to go through King’s Cross to work. I once went for a job interview at Tavistock Square. When I came in at lunch-time and saw the TV news, I just said, “Evil.” I wanted to say something far worse. It was certainly in my heart. Only the presence of my small children stopped me.

I wanted to wish evil things on Osama bin Laden. Like a British judge sentencing him to life, but the prison warders allowing other prisoners to inflict a tortuous, slow death upon him. I had to fight to tell myself that I believe in a better way as a Christian. What that inner fight would have been like had I lost any loved ones in the atrocities, I don’t know.

I’ve offered up the odd prayer about what I shall preach on Sunday. What words, what hope can I give? Must there also be a challenge, with the risk of causing deep offence?

Then I stopped thinking about myself. I thought about Mr Kahn, who runs our little neighbourhood sub-post office. And I prayed that no-one would take it out on him. I prayed, too, for the Sikhs who now own the former Methodist church building nearby. After 9/11 British Sikhs were attacked. I pray for their protection now.

I pray, too, for those trained to help at times of disaster. Last night I was at a District Council meeting where we lamented a lack of volunteers among ministers to be undertake Critical Incident Volunteer training in Kent. London already has people trained – thank God.

And naturally I pray for the injured and the bereaved.

But I must pray, too, for the perpetrators. Yet it’s too easy to parrot the words of Jesus, “Father forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing,” because to some extent these people do know what they’re doing.

Lord have mercy on us all.

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