Quarterly Communion Service:
Our next Communion Service will be:
10.30am Sun 3 December, in the parish church at Abington.
"This is the table, not of the Church, but of the Lord.
It is to be made ready for those who love God
and for those who hope to love God more.
So, come, you who have faith
and you who have doubts.
Come if you have been here often,
and come if you have not been here long.
Come if you have followed,
and come if you have stumbled.
Come, because it is the Lord who invites you.
It is Christ’s will that those who seek him
will meet him here at his table.
Come!"
We practice an open table: all who are baptised, regardless of denomination, are welcome to share in bread and wine.
Children and communion: children may receive communion
at the discretion of their accompanying adult.
Tuesday, 28 November 2017
Monday, 27 November 2017
Sermon, Sun 26: Andrew - People in the Bible series
Given this is the Sunday closest to St Andrew's Day, thought it would be fun to close our wee series of Bible people
[for this year] with Andrew...
READINGS/ John 1:35-42; John 6:1-13; John 12:20-26
SERMON
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer, Amen.
This being the Sunday closest to St Andrew’s Day, I thought it might be a good thing to include Andrew in our wee ongoing series of
‘people in the Bible’ And I want to do a wee spot quiz –
Can any of you tell me one thing you know about this chap called Andrew,
who we come across in the Bible?
... ... ...
Patron saint of Scotland,
friend and follower of Jesus,
brother of Simon who’s later named Peter;
a fisherman...
and, here, in our first reading,
we discover that, before Andrew decided to follow Jesus,
he was one of John the Baptist’s disciples.
In fact, here, in the Gospel of John,
we meet Andrew the day after Jesus has been baptised in the Jordan.
Andrew is with John the Baptist and another of John’s followers when Jesus passes by them.
John points to Jesus and says:
‘Look, the Lamb of God!’
This... intrigues Andrew.
So much so, that he and John’s other, unnamed disciple, decide to head off after Jesus:
Who is he?
Where is he going?
Why is John giving such honour to him by the use of the title ‘Lamb of God?’
John has taught his followers that he, himself, is merely a messenger,
a signpost, pointing the way to one greater.
Now, John, with his prophet’s uniform of camel hair, and his baptism of repentance,
and his bold preaching is pretty impressive in and of himself...
So if John thinks Jesus is special, perhaps Andrew thinks he might be worth checking out.
Clearly, Andrew is one of life’s inward explorers:
he’s curious about what gives life meaning;
he’s open to new ways of thinking about his faith;
he’s at a point in his life where he wants
to know more, to see more,
to ask and try to find answers to life’s great questions.
So, off he goes, with his friend, to follow after Jesus.
I love that the very first words that Jesus utters in the Gospel of John are:
‘What do you want?’...
this, of the two who are shadowing him.
It’s a question that can have so many layers to it –
I almost want Andrew to say:
‘well, how deep do you want me to go into that, Jesus?’
However, he responds to Jesus’ question with a question –
one that sounds a little odd, perhaps, to us.
He asks: ‘where are you staying?’
We were having a wee bit of a chat about this the other night at our Session meeting.
In a sense, if you dig underneath the question,
Andrew’s not so much enquiring if Jesus might be staying at a particular inn –
what he’s actually asking is more tied in with Jesus’ identity:
where are you from?
who are your people?
Understanding where Jesus comes from, who he stays with, provides a context for who Jesus is...
if you like, it’s a little like the Scottish clan system –
or, thinking about it in a farming context perhaps,
where an area of land may have been held for generation upon generation by the same family:
land and identity tie in together.
In response to Andrew’s question,
Jesus doesn’t then number off an impressive list of folk from his family tree...
rather, he invites Andrew, and his friend, to
‘come and see.’
And so, they do.
They spend time with Jesus.
And Andrew is impressed:
the first thing he does is to go off to find his brother:
‘we’ve found the Messiah’ he tells Simon,
and then brings him to Jesus, so Simon, soon to be Peter, can see for himself.
Bringing people to come and see Jesus seems to be a bit of a habit with our Andrew.
The second reading is that well-known story of the feeding of the 5 000.
A great crowd had gathered to hear Jesus teach, and to see him perform miracles.
He looks out at the vast multitude and asks:
‘where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?’
Philip sees the immediate problem:
‘you’d need 8 month wages at least to do it,’ he says.
He can’t see how this could be possible.
While it may be an impossible task, Andrew responds differently:
he brings someone to Jesus –
‘come and see Jesus...come and show Jesus what you’ve got...’
and presents a lad with five loaves and two fish.
Well, it’s a start –
starting with what you have,
or what someone is willing to share.
And yet...even so, how far will that stretch, Andrew perhaps wonders?
But here’s the thing:
it’s in the giving,
in the being prepared to use what’s at hand,
in the offering what you have to Jesus,
that...well...in this instance, at least,
causes something bigger than any of the disciples ever imagined... to happen.
In the end, there’s more than enough for all, with left-overs to spare.
The crowd are nourished physically and spiritually.
The disciples learn an interesting lesson.
By our third reading from John, it’s clear that Andrew is one of the ‘go-to’
people when it comes to finding a way to come and see Jesus.
In this instance, the disciples have entered Jerusalem –
palms have been waved,
crowds have cheered.
People are excited:
could he be the Messiah?
People are keen to come and see Jesus, and not just his own countrymen –
here, we have some Greeks in Jerusalem, who’ve come to the Passover feast...
They see Philip, know him to be one of Jesus’ disciples, and ask him if they can see Jesus.
What does Philip do?
Well, it seems that he’s not sure if they can.
So, he goes and finds Andrew – and off they go together, to Jesus...
Andrew, presumably encouraging Philip that it’ll be okay –
that, of course these folk can come and see Jesus.
Jesus asks: ‘What do you want?’
And then invites – not cajoles, not browbeats, not bullies,
but invites...
Andrew, and then others, to
‘Come and see.’
Andrew is someone who notices things:
he’s noticed that for him, there’s more to life than just the everyday;
he’s noticed that the material stuff of life is fine,
is a gift, is all well and good...
but he’s also noticed that he needs more – and goes on an inner journey.
He notices John, follows him...
and notices John noticing Jesus –
pointing him out as the Lamb of God.
And so, he begins to notice...Jesus:
takes him up on the offer to ‘come and see’.
And Andrew does –
he does see
the things that Jesus does,
hears the things that Jesus says,
sees the way in which Jesus can transform a life –
sometimes dramatically,
sometimes, quietly, over a period of time.
And, in the noticing,
Andrew sees that the good news about the Messiah is something worth sharing...
he extends Jesus’ invitation to others:
‘come and see,’ says Andrew...
And in extending the invitation, so, eventually, a movement began,
as other followers of Jesus said:
come and see...
A movement which continues to this day –
and which we are a part of...the church.
Gathered together here:
What do we want from Jesus?
Are we willing to accept that invitation to ‘come and see’?
It’s not a one-off invitation –
it’s a day to day experience,
following and seeing...
walking with God,
and looking for signs of God...
noticing anew God at work every moment, and every day
in our lives,
and all around us.
And, as we continue to respond to Jesus’ invitation to come and see,
might we, like Andrew, extend that invitation to others?
Let’s pray:
Spirit of God, we would see Jesus.
Like the Greeks who asked
Philip and Andrew for help,
we come to learn from him, and to understand.
Like the 5 000 people who sat on the grass,
we come to be fed by him,
and be healed by his touch.
Like Andrew himself,
we come to follow,
and to encourage others to follow.
Help us, we pray,
to come and see, more clearly;
to come and follow, more closely;
to come and share Jesus, more freely;
this we pray in his name... Amen
Monday, 13 November 2017
Contacts, news, events
Due to annual leave, the minister will be unavailable from:
Mon 13 Nov to Tues 21 Nov
Nikki is using up her leftover annual leave before Advent and Christmas begin. She’ll be off from Mon 13th to Tues 21st Nov.
Urgent pastoral matters/ funeral cover will be provided by:
the Rev. George Shand who can be contacted on 01899 309400.
For any ongoing parish queries, please contact:
Heather Watt, our Session Clerk on 01899 850211
Sunday 19 November, Morning worship: we welcome back the Rev. Sandy Strachan, former NHS Chaplain at Dumfries General, as he conducts worship for us.
Thurs 23 Nov., 7pm: Upper Clyde Kirk Session meets in the Church Hall this evening.
Sat 25 Nov., 10.30am: Guild Coffee Morning will be held in the Roberton Village Hall... Join us once again for our annual Coffee Morning: with tombola, sales table, baked goods, and morning teas available.
Sunday 26 Nov., 6.30pm: Evening worship in Leadhills. Our last in our year’s series on the Fruit of the Spirit. This week, we reflect on ‘self-control’. Worship will be led by Keith and Morag Black and tea/ coffee will be available thereafter. All welcome.
Church magazine distribution: the Christmas edition of our magazine has now been published – speedy printer was faster than we thought! As ever, many hands make light work when it comes to distributing these across the parish. If you can help share the load by distributing copies to neighbours in your street, surrounding streets, village, or wider, please let Dee know, and we can then coordinate this. Every little helps, and the more folk willing to help, the easier the task overall. Huge thanks in advance!
Sunday, 12 November 2017
Service, Remembrance Sun 12 Nov
This morning, in our main service of worship, following our pattern of observing the centenary years of WWI, we reflected on some of the events of 1917.
Prior to our Act of Remembrance in the service, we heard poems that in some way connected to 1917:
*E. A. Mackintosh - In the glen where I was young - Mackintosh was killed at Cambrai
*W. D. Cocker - Storm Memories - Cocker was taken prisoner at the start of the Passchendaele offensive. He survived the war.
*Donald MacDonald - Song of Arras - reflecting troops marching to Arras. He survived the war.
These were followed by John McCrae's In Flanders Fields
Shorter sermon today, based on the following readings:
READINGS/ Ps 46; Micah 4:1-5, 6:6-8; Matt. 5:1-12
SERMON/
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the meditations
of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and redeemer. Amen
In the mid-years of the First World War, the pressure is on:
politicians are feeling the heat from the public, and press to see an end to the war.
The sheer cost in terms of human life is staggering, almost incomprehensible.
On the battlefields, horror and despair and dark humour mingle –
things no human being should ever see, ever experience, have become the everyday.
Over vast swathes of land, men on every side are literally bogged down in mud.
In answer to the public pressure, new offensives, new battles are undertaken,
but most end in stalemate and ever-mounting casualties.
The Battle of Arras, beginning on the 9th of April, and ending 5 weeks later,
initially sees ground gained by the Allies, but the eventual push-back means little is gained militarily.
The cost in terms of casualties roughly comes in at 275 000 on both sides.
In June, the Battle of Messines commences and is viewed as an Allied tactical success –
General Haig deems the result worth the heavy number of casualties left in its wake.
The success is short-lived:
the much larger Battle of Passchendaele,
fought in July through to November sees casualties on both sides numbering around half a million.
Later, in his Memoirs of 1938, Lloyd George would write:
"Passchendaele was indeed one of the greatest disasters of the war ...
No soldier of any intelligence now defends this senseless campaign ..."
Towards the end of the year, the Battle of Cambrai results in 80 000 casualties.
Added to all the other casualties outwith these campaigns, 1917 is an horrific, sobering, costly year, just like its predecessors.
What did men like William Cocker, and Donald MacDonald, who’d signed up in 1914, and,
who’d possibly believed the hype about ‘being home by Christmas’ ...
what did they think, as the days, months, and years of war dragged on,
and as the high heid yins continued along a course of destruction and death?
Did they wonder if it would ever end?
Did they wonder if they’d make it out alive?
Did they ever question the necessity of the war?
Very probably, I suspect.
There are so many reasons used to justify war but sometimes I wonder, if, at the heart of it,
pride, ego, greed, the need for power over others -
the worst of the things that make us human -
are really the causes?
Whether on the smaller scale of family or neighbourly interactions, or on a more global scale,
choosing not to listen to your neighbour,
choosing to ride rough-shod over them,
or choosing the way of revenge,
will generally always lead to conflict.
What is it about us, as human beings, that makes it seem that we so often
prefer to choose the way of war, and not the way of peace?
The way of God’s kingdom is always about reconciliation –
which is not the same as being a doormat.
It is the hard work of listening to the one you’re struggling with;
it is the hard work of being prepared to bend a little – to let go of pride, of ego –
as a way to better work towards a healing of relationships;
it is the hard work of acknowledging your own faults and failings as
opposed to just pointing an accusing finger at your ‘enemy’;
it is the hard work of looking for a fair and equitable outcome for all,
so that each may sit under their own vine, their own fig tree...so that each may flourish
and, in that environment,
to know that swords and spears are no longer necessary:
that, instead of a harvest of destruction, war, and death,
what is found in God’s kingdom is
a harvest of healing, peace, and life – of ploughshares and pruning-hooks.
Not a harvest of fear,
but a harvest of hope...
cultivating a climate of friendship and mutual flourishing.
The Psalmist says that ‘God is our refuge and our strength’
and, that in Him ‘we will not fear’.
In a world where fear is used as a weapon to control human behaviour –
where fear is used to keep people from speaking out against the misuse of power;
at a time where we watch as certain world leaders recklessly allow their ego full reign
as they threaten to unleash nuclear weapons without considering either cost or consequence,
seeking God’s kingdom and the way of peace is as timely as it ever was.
Jesus, in his Beatitudes, taught his followers that 'blessed are the peacemakers.'
In our homes, in our neighbourhoods,
in our nation, and in our world,
our job is to speak peace in the face of war –
to do so as a way of remembering, and honouring all those who hoped to put an end to war,
and were themselves casualties of war, certainly...
but, more than that:
our job is to speak peace in the face of war
for, in doing so, we live into our calling as those who follow Jesus, the Prince of Peace –
and, with him, through the power of God’s Spirit,
we work towards bringing in God’s kingdom of peace –
where there shall be no more suffering, death, or pain;
and where there shall be no more war. Amen.
Prior to our Act of Remembrance in the service, we heard poems that in some way connected to 1917:
*E. A. Mackintosh - In the glen where I was young - Mackintosh was killed at Cambrai
*W. D. Cocker - Storm Memories - Cocker was taken prisoner at the start of the Passchendaele offensive. He survived the war.
*Donald MacDonald - Song of Arras - reflecting troops marching to Arras. He survived the war.
These were followed by John McCrae's In Flanders Fields
Shorter sermon today, based on the following readings:
READINGS/ Ps 46; Micah 4:1-5, 6:6-8; Matt. 5:1-12
SERMON/
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the meditations
of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and redeemer. Amen
In the mid-years of the First World War, the pressure is on:
politicians are feeling the heat from the public, and press to see an end to the war.
The sheer cost in terms of human life is staggering, almost incomprehensible.
On the battlefields, horror and despair and dark humour mingle –
things no human being should ever see, ever experience, have become the everyday.
Over vast swathes of land, men on every side are literally bogged down in mud.
In answer to the public pressure, new offensives, new battles are undertaken,
but most end in stalemate and ever-mounting casualties.
The Battle of Arras, beginning on the 9th of April, and ending 5 weeks later,
initially sees ground gained by the Allies, but the eventual push-back means little is gained militarily.
The cost in terms of casualties roughly comes in at 275 000 on both sides.
In June, the Battle of Messines commences and is viewed as an Allied tactical success –
General Haig deems the result worth the heavy number of casualties left in its wake.
The success is short-lived:
the much larger Battle of Passchendaele,
fought in July through to November sees casualties on both sides numbering around half a million.
Later, in his Memoirs of 1938, Lloyd George would write:
"Passchendaele was indeed one of the greatest disasters of the war ...
No soldier of any intelligence now defends this senseless campaign ..."
Towards the end of the year, the Battle of Cambrai results in 80 000 casualties.
Added to all the other casualties outwith these campaigns, 1917 is an horrific, sobering, costly year, just like its predecessors.
What did men like William Cocker, and Donald MacDonald, who’d signed up in 1914, and,
who’d possibly believed the hype about ‘being home by Christmas’ ...
what did they think, as the days, months, and years of war dragged on,
and as the high heid yins continued along a course of destruction and death?
Did they wonder if it would ever end?
Did they wonder if they’d make it out alive?
Did they ever question the necessity of the war?
Very probably, I suspect.
There are so many reasons used to justify war but sometimes I wonder, if, at the heart of it,
pride, ego, greed, the need for power over others -
the worst of the things that make us human -
are really the causes?
Whether on the smaller scale of family or neighbourly interactions, or on a more global scale,
choosing not to listen to your neighbour,
choosing to ride rough-shod over them,
or choosing the way of revenge,
will generally always lead to conflict.
What is it about us, as human beings, that makes it seem that we so often
prefer to choose the way of war, and not the way of peace?
The way of God’s kingdom is always about reconciliation –
which is not the same as being a doormat.
It is the hard work of listening to the one you’re struggling with;
it is the hard work of being prepared to bend a little – to let go of pride, of ego –
as a way to better work towards a healing of relationships;
it is the hard work of acknowledging your own faults and failings as
opposed to just pointing an accusing finger at your ‘enemy’;
it is the hard work of looking for a fair and equitable outcome for all,
so that each may sit under their own vine, their own fig tree...so that each may flourish
and, in that environment,
to know that swords and spears are no longer necessary:
that, instead of a harvest of destruction, war, and death,
what is found in God’s kingdom is
a harvest of healing, peace, and life – of ploughshares and pruning-hooks.
Not a harvest of fear,
but a harvest of hope...
cultivating a climate of friendship and mutual flourishing.
The Psalmist says that ‘God is our refuge and our strength’
and, that in Him ‘we will not fear’.
In a world where fear is used as a weapon to control human behaviour –
where fear is used to keep people from speaking out against the misuse of power;
at a time where we watch as certain world leaders recklessly allow their ego full reign
as they threaten to unleash nuclear weapons without considering either cost or consequence,
seeking God’s kingdom and the way of peace is as timely as it ever was.
Jesus, in his Beatitudes, taught his followers that 'blessed are the peacemakers.'
In our homes, in our neighbourhoods,
in our nation, and in our world,
our job is to speak peace in the face of war –
to do so as a way of remembering, and honouring all those who hoped to put an end to war,
and were themselves casualties of war, certainly...
but, more than that:
our job is to speak peace in the face of war
for, in doing so, we live into our calling as those who follow Jesus, the Prince of Peace –
and, with him, through the power of God’s Spirit,
we work towards bringing in God’s kingdom of peace –
where there shall be no more suffering, death, or pain;
and where there shall be no more war. Amen.
Thursday, 9 November 2017
Tuesday, 7 November 2017
Jenny Worthington: in memory
Today we said our goodbyes to our friend, and elder, Jenny Worthington -
first, at South Lanarkshire Crematorium, and then back down the road at the church.
In the first part of the day's proceedings, the Minister paid tribute to Jenny, while, at church,
Jenny's son Rhys shared memories of his mother.
The amazing turn out at both locations was a visible demonstration of just how many
lives Jenny touched over her own life.
Huge thanks to the many folk within the church community who helped in different ways
to ensure that today went smoothly.
Our thoughts and prayers are with her family, and friends, at this time.
The following is the Minister's tribute to Jenny...
‘Loyal’,
‘generous’,
‘kind’,
‘utterly professional’,
‘diligent’...
‘indispensible’
‘community-spirited’,
'inveterate loser of keys...
‘great story-teller’,
‘loving mother and grandmother’,
‘most excellent friend’...
Just a wee mosaic of words that help to describe the kind of person Jenny was,
and even then, they barely scratch the surface.
Jenny was one of life’s givers, and didn’t make a fuss about it:
she quietly just cracked on with whatever job it was that needed doing –
and, if she was in charge, it would be done with a keen eye for detail,
with maximum efficiency, and done well.
Both in her professional, and personal, life Jenny’s focus was very much on hospitality –
quite literally, catering to the needs of others whether in the thick of it at Royal Ascot,
tending to the needs of Heads of State at a European Summit, cooking for the First Minister,
or organising medieval banquets where she got to be 'Queen Jenny',
nothing phased her:
she rose to the task, and her energy, ability, and passion for what she did not only
enthused the many teams she led but brought out their best.
This was also evident in the many years spent in in training generations of
students at Motherwell College:
tho, when she got to the point where she began teaching the grandsons of
former pupils she rather thought it time to hang up her professional apron...
Her professional provision of hospitality was an extension of who she was as a person:
welcoming, warm – the kettle was always on.
She paid attention to people, noticed the small things:
she worked out very quickly that the minister was quite partial to a cheese scone –
and, let me tell you, those cheese scones were fabulous.
While we never did quite sort out world peace around her kitchen table,
I swear, at times, aided by her warm hospitality, that we were pretty close.
All these little touches, quietly done, spoke volumes about the way in which Jenny cared for people:
whether cooking or baking,
driving folk to where they needed to be as a designated driver in her community,
looking out for people in her role as an elder in the church...
in a myriad of ways Jenny gave of her time and her impressive skills in the service of others.
The other day, I was reading something that Jenny had written for her retirement ‘do’ –
she said:
‘Opportunities I’ve been given, I have tried to return.’
She did that, and more:
I suspect the balance sheet falls strongly in her favour.
Jenny knew things:
I often called her one of my ‘wise women’ –
I truly valued her vast storehouse of knowledge and advice –
she made me a better minister, and for that, I’m grateful.
But beyond that, ‘Ask Jenny’ was just as much a catch-phrase at the College as it was the church.
if you didn’t know where something was,
or who might be related to whom,
or something needed sorted,
Jenny was your woman.
She was also stickler for getting a thing right:
woe betide if you thought it might be a good idea to put teaspoons in a mug
and pop them on a table at morning tea.
You’d learn very quickly that no, it was not such a good idea after all –
and, yes, she was right about that and so many things.
But while she had high standards, she wasn’t stuffy – she had a great sense of fun:
when she was working in London in the 60’s, having been out on the town at a ball,
she ended up with friends all still dressed in their ballgowns, at the airport,
waiting to welcome the Beatles home.
Jenny had the best twinkle in her eye, and a lovely sense of humour –
and her face would light up when she talked about her family:
she was so proud of Sian and Rhys
and so delighted to welcome wee Gethin when he arrived into the world.
With her characteristic no-fuss approach, when she received the news of her diagnosis,
she just got on with things – began to organise and put things in order.
I was privileged, as her minister, over the last three years,
to have had some good conversations about the deeper stuff of life –
and in these last weeks, her faith helped her to find a place of peace in a hard situation.
She had the hope of resurrection in her heart,
and knew that she was indeed, a beloved child of God.
And, while it feels too soon, and while we will miss her so very much,
even so, she will rest in peace, and rise in glory.
Amen.
first, at South Lanarkshire Crematorium, and then back down the road at the church.
In the first part of the day's proceedings, the Minister paid tribute to Jenny, while, at church,
Jenny's son Rhys shared memories of his mother.
The amazing turn out at both locations was a visible demonstration of just how many
lives Jenny touched over her own life.
Huge thanks to the many folk within the church community who helped in different ways
to ensure that today went smoothly.
Our thoughts and prayers are with her family, and friends, at this time.
The following is the Minister's tribute to Jenny...
‘Loyal’,
‘generous’,
‘kind’,
‘utterly professional’,
‘diligent’...
‘indispensible’
‘community-spirited’,
'inveterate loser of keys...
‘great story-teller’,
‘loving mother and grandmother’,
‘most excellent friend’...
Just a wee mosaic of words that help to describe the kind of person Jenny was,
and even then, they barely scratch the surface.
Jenny was one of life’s givers, and didn’t make a fuss about it:
she quietly just cracked on with whatever job it was that needed doing –
and, if she was in charge, it would be done with a keen eye for detail,
with maximum efficiency, and done well.
Both in her professional, and personal, life Jenny’s focus was very much on hospitality –
quite literally, catering to the needs of others whether in the thick of it at Royal Ascot,
tending to the needs of Heads of State at a European Summit, cooking for the First Minister,
or organising medieval banquets where she got to be 'Queen Jenny',
nothing phased her:
she rose to the task, and her energy, ability, and passion for what she did not only
enthused the many teams she led but brought out their best.
This was also evident in the many years spent in in training generations of
students at Motherwell College:
tho, when she got to the point where she began teaching the grandsons of
former pupils she rather thought it time to hang up her professional apron...
Her professional provision of hospitality was an extension of who she was as a person:
welcoming, warm – the kettle was always on.
She paid attention to people, noticed the small things:
she worked out very quickly that the minister was quite partial to a cheese scone –
and, let me tell you, those cheese scones were fabulous.
While we never did quite sort out world peace around her kitchen table,
I swear, at times, aided by her warm hospitality, that we were pretty close.
All these little touches, quietly done, spoke volumes about the way in which Jenny cared for people:
whether cooking or baking,
driving folk to where they needed to be as a designated driver in her community,
looking out for people in her role as an elder in the church...
in a myriad of ways Jenny gave of her time and her impressive skills in the service of others.
The other day, I was reading something that Jenny had written for her retirement ‘do’ –
she said:
‘Opportunities I’ve been given, I have tried to return.’
She did that, and more:
I suspect the balance sheet falls strongly in her favour.
Jenny knew things:
I often called her one of my ‘wise women’ –
I truly valued her vast storehouse of knowledge and advice –
she made me a better minister, and for that, I’m grateful.
But beyond that, ‘Ask Jenny’ was just as much a catch-phrase at the College as it was the church.
if you didn’t know where something was,
or who might be related to whom,
or something needed sorted,
Jenny was your woman.
She was also stickler for getting a thing right:
woe betide if you thought it might be a good idea to put teaspoons in a mug
and pop them on a table at morning tea.
You’d learn very quickly that no, it was not such a good idea after all –
and, yes, she was right about that and so many things.
But while she had high standards, she wasn’t stuffy – she had a great sense of fun:
when she was working in London in the 60’s, having been out on the town at a ball,
she ended up with friends all still dressed in their ballgowns, at the airport,
waiting to welcome the Beatles home.
Jenny had the best twinkle in her eye, and a lovely sense of humour –
and her face would light up when she talked about her family:
she was so proud of Sian and Rhys
and so delighted to welcome wee Gethin when he arrived into the world.
With her characteristic no-fuss approach, when she received the news of her diagnosis,
she just got on with things – began to organise and put things in order.
I was privileged, as her minister, over the last three years,
to have had some good conversations about the deeper stuff of life –
and in these last weeks, her faith helped her to find a place of peace in a hard situation.
She had the hope of resurrection in her heart,
and knew that she was indeed, a beloved child of God.
And, while it feels too soon, and while we will miss her so very much,
even so, she will rest in peace, and rise in glory.
Amen.
Sunday, 5 November 2017
Sun sermon 5 Nov - 'Philemon' /People of the Bible series
READINGS/ Ps 139:1-18; Jeremiah 18:1-11; Philemon
SERMON
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer, Amen.
He’s a servant, or slave:
pretty close to the bottom rung of the social ladder.
He lives and works in a large house in the town of Colossae.
Is he content with his lot?
Not really.
He wonders if there’s more to life than this.
He dreams of what else he could usefully be doing with his life –
‘Useful’:
Onesimus - it’s what his name actually means.
Mostly, he feels useless.
Powerless.
Unnoticed.
Trapped.
He’d rather be anywhere else than here.
He finds his mind occupied with thoughts of getting away.
...Dangerous thoughts, these.
If he leaves, and is caught, it could cost him his very life:
That’s the law, under the Roman Empire.
One day, however, something snaps.
He makes his bid for freedom:
a different life,
a different place...
and, in the leaving, perhaps he helps himself to some of his
master’s belongings in order to survive.
His master, Philemon, is prosperous –
clearly, a successful man about town:
known,
deferred to by others,
used to power,
used to being in charge.
People notice Philemon,
listen to him,
and generally, they probably do as he asks.
His house is of a size that can comfortably hold a good number of folk:
meetings are held there often, and there’s a regular gathering –
each week on a Sunday.
It’s a strange assortment that gathers.
It’s a strange kind of meeting.
Letters are read out, and then discussed.
They sing.
They share bread and wine,
and pray to a strange god
and talk often of his Son.
Time has passed since the loss of his servant.
And, out of the blue, a letter arrives from an old friend, and brother in the faith.
Paul has been a mentor to him.
Has worked with him, in Colossae, building up the group of
those who follow in the way of Jesus –
the One who, through his life, was...is... the great bridge-builder,
reconciling all people to God –
restoring what had been a broken relationship,
and bringing freedom and new life.
Now, friend Paul writes from prison, in chains because of his faith,
and his letter contains surprising news,
as well as a challenging request.
It seems the lost servant,
the runaway slave, Onesimus,
has found his way to Paul,
and, in finding Paul,
has found the new life he sought –
as a follower of the way,
a follower of Christ.
Like the potter Jeremiah talks of, God has reshaped Onesimus –
no longer nothing, but God’s own;
no longer unnoticed, but known;
no longer in spiritual chains, but free;
no longer useless, but useful –
through God’s love,
Onesimus has found his own, true self.
Philemon reads this letter, and sees that Paul talks of this servant
as his own ‘dear child’;
a beloved brother;
his 'own heart'.
And challenges Philemon to treat this servant as he would his friend Paul –
to give him honour,
to love him...
to treat him like...a brother.
He may not have been useful in the past, Paul puns,
but, my word, he’s jolly useful now –
for God has remoulded Onesimus into someone who now understands
and lives and shares the message of God’s amazing, and transformative love.
Onesimus is living proof that God’s love is for all –
God does not just bless the wealthy,
the ones with status and power;
God blesses even those deemed 'useless'.
‘I’m sending him back to you’, says Paul:
‘forgive him.’
You can almost see Philemon’s eyebrows raise.
If there’s no forgiveness,
this story will end in death.
Paul’s using his ties of friendship with Philemon, to save the life of this new Christian brother.
And it’s interesting the way Paul addresses his friend:
instead of emphasising his own spiritual authority
and commanding Philemon to forgive, and even release, Onesimus,
Paul emphasises his own chains –
essentially, empathising with Onesimus’ situation as a captive.
In asking Philemon to forgive –
to reconcile, rather than seek revenge –
Paul shows the radical nature of the Gospel:
it is life-bringing –
not just spiritually, but in this case, very literally.
For Onesimus, it’s good news on several levels.
But what about Philemon?
Well, here, the radical nature of the Gospel just makes things
a little bit challenging and somewhat awkward for Philemon:
he has to go against every cultural and societal norm he knows.
In a society built upon a strongly defined system of class,
Paul is showing that in God’s kingdom,
in Christ’s community –
there’s only one class:
status is found in Christ alone.
All are equal.
Jesus as brother,
Jesus as friend...
Jesus not emphasising his own authority,
but instead showing humility,
not showing airs and graces as King of kings,
but instead providing the example of what it is to serve one another in love.
Paul challenges Philemon to set aside his rights as master, to forgive his servant...
and encourages him to see that the community called to follow Jesus,
is a community called to
serve one another in love,
to work together,
to regard one another not just as friends,
but as spiritual kin:
brothers and sisters in Christ.
In forgiving his servant, and taking him back, Philemon is faced with a dilemma:
those weekly Sunday meetings are now going to be attended by his servant...
who, in that time of worship will be on equal terms with his master, as a fellow believer in Christ.
How will that work?
How will it affect their relationship?
Paul’s letter suggests that the new relationship will see Onesimus as being ‘better than a slave’...
perhaps a suggestion, ultimately, to free his servant, in order that Onesimus
might more freely serve the Lord, and the community of faith.
The radical Gospel –
tells the story, the good news, of a kingdom and a community
where all are free,
and all are loving and serving
just the one master, Jesus.
What will Philemon do?
Will he rise to the challenge?
Will he reconcile, and in doing so, see his own community transformed
by God’s liberating, radical grace?
Grace, that sows the seeds of resurrection within the faith community
where God is making all things new?
It’s certainly an act of trust, on the part of Onesimus,
to go back and see if Philemon’s willing to give it a try.
What has Paul’s letter to Philemon,
a personal letter to a friend about a very particular situation,
got to do with us?
Well, we are the inheritors of the faith –
Christ’s body,
Christ’s community,
called by him to live in love,
and to live in the service of God and each other.
Called to be counter-cultural in our relationships:
we are bound to one another in and through Jesus.
What are the chains that are stopping us from being a community of love?
What holds us back from accepting God’s radical love for us,
and sharing that love with one another – as brothers and sisters?
How might we better be communities of transformation, grace, and welcome?
What rights and privileges do we have that we might be willing, as Christians,
to give up in the service of others?
What might a transformed, reconciled community of faith look like?
The good news of the Gospel is that,
in Christ, we are transformed,
reshaped, remoulded, made useful;
are freed to be who God created us to be;
called, not just individually,
but called into community:
we are not alone –
we have each other,
and God is with us.
In that knowledge,
let’s bear one another’s burdens in love;
let’s serve one another in love.
Let’s strike out in faith,
and be the change in the world that God wants to see.
Let’s pray:
We are not alone,
we live in God's world.
We believe in God:
who has created and is creating,
who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh,
to reconcile and make new,
who works in us and others by the Spirit.
We trust in God.
We are called to be the Church:
to celebrate God's presence,
to live with respect in Creation,
to love and serve others,
to seek justice and resist evil,
to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope.
In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us.
We are not alone.
Thanks be to God. Amen
SERMON
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer, Amen.
He’s a servant, or slave:
pretty close to the bottom rung of the social ladder.
He lives and works in a large house in the town of Colossae.
Is he content with his lot?
Not really.
He wonders if there’s more to life than this.
He dreams of what else he could usefully be doing with his life –
‘Useful’:
Onesimus - it’s what his name actually means.
Mostly, he feels useless.
Powerless.
Unnoticed.
Trapped.
He’d rather be anywhere else than here.
He finds his mind occupied with thoughts of getting away.
...Dangerous thoughts, these.
If he leaves, and is caught, it could cost him his very life:
That’s the law, under the Roman Empire.
One day, however, something snaps.
He makes his bid for freedom:
a different life,
a different place...
and, in the leaving, perhaps he helps himself to some of his
master’s belongings in order to survive.
His master, Philemon, is prosperous –
clearly, a successful man about town:
known,
deferred to by others,
used to power,
used to being in charge.
People notice Philemon,
listen to him,
and generally, they probably do as he asks.
His house is of a size that can comfortably hold a good number of folk:
meetings are held there often, and there’s a regular gathering –
each week on a Sunday.
It’s a strange assortment that gathers.
It’s a strange kind of meeting.
Letters are read out, and then discussed.
They sing.
They share bread and wine,
and pray to a strange god
and talk often of his Son.
Time has passed since the loss of his servant.
And, out of the blue, a letter arrives from an old friend, and brother in the faith.
Paul has been a mentor to him.
Has worked with him, in Colossae, building up the group of
those who follow in the way of Jesus –
the One who, through his life, was...is... the great bridge-builder,
reconciling all people to God –
restoring what had been a broken relationship,
and bringing freedom and new life.
Now, friend Paul writes from prison, in chains because of his faith,
and his letter contains surprising news,
as well as a challenging request.
It seems the lost servant,
the runaway slave, Onesimus,
has found his way to Paul,
and, in finding Paul,
has found the new life he sought –
as a follower of the way,
a follower of Christ.
Like the potter Jeremiah talks of, God has reshaped Onesimus –
no longer nothing, but God’s own;
no longer unnoticed, but known;
no longer in spiritual chains, but free;
no longer useless, but useful –
through God’s love,
Onesimus has found his own, true self.
Philemon reads this letter, and sees that Paul talks of this servant
as his own ‘dear child’;
a beloved brother;
his 'own heart'.
And challenges Philemon to treat this servant as he would his friend Paul –
to give him honour,
to love him...
to treat him like...a brother.
He may not have been useful in the past, Paul puns,
but, my word, he’s jolly useful now –
for God has remoulded Onesimus into someone who now understands
and lives and shares the message of God’s amazing, and transformative love.
Onesimus is living proof that God’s love is for all –
God does not just bless the wealthy,
the ones with status and power;
God blesses even those deemed 'useless'.
‘I’m sending him back to you’, says Paul:
‘forgive him.’
You can almost see Philemon’s eyebrows raise.
If there’s no forgiveness,
this story will end in death.
Paul’s using his ties of friendship with Philemon, to save the life of this new Christian brother.
And it’s interesting the way Paul addresses his friend:
instead of emphasising his own spiritual authority
and commanding Philemon to forgive, and even release, Onesimus,
Paul emphasises his own chains –
essentially, empathising with Onesimus’ situation as a captive.
In asking Philemon to forgive –
to reconcile, rather than seek revenge –
Paul shows the radical nature of the Gospel:
it is life-bringing –
not just spiritually, but in this case, very literally.
For Onesimus, it’s good news on several levels.
But what about Philemon?
Well, here, the radical nature of the Gospel just makes things
a little bit challenging and somewhat awkward for Philemon:
he has to go against every cultural and societal norm he knows.
In a society built upon a strongly defined system of class,
Paul is showing that in God’s kingdom,
in Christ’s community –
there’s only one class:
status is found in Christ alone.
All are equal.
Jesus as brother,
Jesus as friend...
Jesus not emphasising his own authority,
but instead showing humility,
not showing airs and graces as King of kings,
but instead providing the example of what it is to serve one another in love.
Paul challenges Philemon to set aside his rights as master, to forgive his servant...
and encourages him to see that the community called to follow Jesus,
is a community called to
serve one another in love,
to work together,
to regard one another not just as friends,
but as spiritual kin:
brothers and sisters in Christ.
In forgiving his servant, and taking him back, Philemon is faced with a dilemma:
those weekly Sunday meetings are now going to be attended by his servant...
who, in that time of worship will be on equal terms with his master, as a fellow believer in Christ.
How will that work?
How will it affect their relationship?
Paul’s letter suggests that the new relationship will see Onesimus as being ‘better than a slave’...
perhaps a suggestion, ultimately, to free his servant, in order that Onesimus
might more freely serve the Lord, and the community of faith.
The radical Gospel –
tells the story, the good news, of a kingdom and a community
where all are free,
and all are loving and serving
just the one master, Jesus.
What will Philemon do?
Will he rise to the challenge?
Will he reconcile, and in doing so, see his own community transformed
by God’s liberating, radical grace?
Grace, that sows the seeds of resurrection within the faith community
where God is making all things new?
It’s certainly an act of trust, on the part of Onesimus,
to go back and see if Philemon’s willing to give it a try.
What has Paul’s letter to Philemon,
a personal letter to a friend about a very particular situation,
got to do with us?
Well, we are the inheritors of the faith –
Christ’s body,
Christ’s community,
called by him to live in love,
and to live in the service of God and each other.
Called to be counter-cultural in our relationships:
we are bound to one another in and through Jesus.
What are the chains that are stopping us from being a community of love?
What holds us back from accepting God’s radical love for us,
and sharing that love with one another – as brothers and sisters?
How might we better be communities of transformation, grace, and welcome?
What rights and privileges do we have that we might be willing, as Christians,
to give up in the service of others?
What might a transformed, reconciled community of faith look like?
The good news of the Gospel is that,
in Christ, we are transformed,
reshaped, remoulded, made useful;
are freed to be who God created us to be;
called, not just individually,
but called into community:
we are not alone –
we have each other,
and God is with us.
In that knowledge,
let’s bear one another’s burdens in love;
let’s serve one another in love.
Let’s strike out in faith,
and be the change in the world that God wants to see.
Let’s pray:
We are not alone,
we live in God's world.
We believe in God:
who has created and is creating,
who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh,
to reconcile and make new,
who works in us and others by the Spirit.
We trust in God.
We are called to be the Church:
to celebrate God's presence,
to live with respect in Creation,
to love and serve others,
to seek justice and resist evil,
to proclaim Jesus, crucified and risen, our judge and our hope.
In life, in death, in life beyond death,
God is with us.
We are not alone.
Thanks be to God. Amen
Friday, 3 November 2017
Jenny Worthington
It is with great sadness that we announce the death of Jenny Worthington,
who died on Monday.
Her funeral arrangements are as follows:
11am Committal at Sth Lanarkshire Crematorium...
thereafter
1pm at Upper Clyde Church for a service of thanksgiving for her life
thereafter
2.15pm Funeral tea at Cornhill Castle
Thoughts and prayers are with family and friends at this time.
May she rest in peace, and rise in glory.
who died on Monday.
Her funeral arrangements are as follows:
11am Committal at Sth Lanarkshire Crematorium...
thereafter
1pm at Upper Clyde Church for a service of thanksgiving for her life
thereafter
2.15pm Funeral tea at Cornhill Castle
Thoughts and prayers are with family and friends at this time.
May she rest in peace, and rise in glory.
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