Sunday sermon: 'Beloved Underdog' - Joseph series pt2

This morning during our time of worship we welcomed Evalyne May Broxholm into God's family through the sacrament of baptism...


Part 2 in our series on the story of Joseph.


READINGS: Psalm 34:1-10  Genesis 41:37-57

SERMON
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

The middle of the vast Pacific Ocean.
And in that great expanse of water, a skinny, shipwrecked boy, bobbing in a dinghy.
At the other end, a Bengal tiger.
The boy has lost his entire family –
will he now lose his own life?
Will it be as a meal for his companion –
or dehydration?
After an epic voyage and many adventures the two eventually land on shore,
the tiger retreating into the darkness of a jungle,
the boy, found and cared for by locals.
‘The Life of Pi’ is a brilliant and beautifully told variation of the classic
‘underdog beating all the odds.’
If you haven’t read it, or seen the movie, truly, do yourself a favour.

The underdog story always tends to be a winning formula:
from Rocky, to Pi,
from Star Wars Rebel Alliance, to Slumdog Millionaire,
we like to hear of the most unlikely people pitted against outrageous odds,
who, despite everything that’s thrown at them somehow emerge, triumphant.
But with our friend Joseph, from the Book of Genesis,
we find ourselves on slightly tricky ground:
is he, or isn’t he an underdog?

It doesn’t start off well.
Let’s recap:
Last week, in our introduction to Joseph,
we saw a bratty, spoilt 17 year old boy
who cheerfully ran to his dad and told tales on his brothers;
who was an insensitive show-off –
especially when it came to letting his brothers know just who was the favourite:
parading about in that coat of many colours was a guaranteed way of reminding them
that when it all came down to it, they counted for little.
And then, there were the dreams:
dreams which he tactlessly interpreted –
where he, the youngest, would have power over all of them.
He sees himself less as an underdog and more the top dog.

And so Joseph kept on,
being annoying,
playing games,
and treating his family with contempt –
so much so, that his brothers hated him and could barely bring themselves to speak to him.
The hero of the story was not making such a great first impression.
However, the golden-haired dreamer was about to get his come-uppance.
We left the story last week with the brothers planning to kill him.
In the end, they settle for selling him off to some passing traders.
The traders arrive in Egypt and Joseph is sold
- to live as a slave to Potiphar, captain of Pharaoh’s guard.

The years pass.
Just before our reading earlier, we hear of how well Joseph fares in Potiphar’s house –
everything he’s put in charge of seems to prosper.
He works hard.
He’s good at what he does.
Little by little, he’s given more responsibility –
the more responsibility, the better he gets on.
But disaster strikes:
a false accusation sees him unceremoniously flung in jail, left there to rot.
Even there, in the dankness of prison,
bit by bit, Joseph earns the trust of the jailers –
is given areas of responsibility, does all things well, and is given more to do.
At some point, a couple of folk who work at the Palace are put in jail.
Joseph is tasked to look after them.
And it seems that Joseph’s not the only one in this story who dreams.
Both the Palace workers have troubling dreams.
They confide in Joseph –
he’s earned their trust.
He interprets the dreams:
for one, it will not end well –
for the other, he’ll be restored to his former position at the Palace.
And so it comes to pass.
One is executed, the other is saved.
‘I’ll remember what you’ve done’ says he.
And then, heads back to work, and promptly gets involved in the business
of living once more, and forgets.
Until, one day, Pharaoh begins to have dreams...
which no-one can seem to interpret.
The former prisoner, now Palace worker, suddenly remembers Joseph.

Thirteen years have passed since his brothers sold him.
No longer a boy, Joseph has been learning
the hard lessons of life from the school of hard knocks.
He’s a changed man –
not a spoilt, self-seeking, tactless brat.
He’s strong, he’s learned the art of humility, and diplomacy.
And now, having washed and shaved,
he stands before the most powerful man in the known world...
and tells him what the dreams mean,
and suddenly moves from prisoner
to second most powerful man in the known world
as he’s put in charge of preparing for famine while in the midst of feast.
He’s fortune’s favoured child once more –
how will he handle favour and power this time around?

Quite differently, it seems.
He’s not longer a show-off –
even though he’s got a fancy new chariot to drive around in.
Instead of pointing to himself, he gives glory to God –
'this is what God is doing:
I do this dream stuff, because of God...
any wisdom I have, comes from God.'
He’s no longer self-seeking, looking after number one –
he now uses his power for others to help, and to serve,
and to save the nation from starvation.
He’s so successful at gathering a portion of the good harvests over the years,
that it’s beyond counting.
His diligence will not only save Egypt,
it will save other people who come looking for food.

The Psalmist says:
‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears,’
and
‘Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.’
There, in Pharaoh’s dungeon, where else could Joseph turn?
Well, I guess, inward, and become bitter.
Instead, something prompted him to look past himself
to look outward,
to seek the Lord.
Having had years to work through his ‘stuff’, to learn to rely on God,
and to give his troubles to God he's ready, he's prepared to take on
even greater responsibility.

Suddenly the story is no longer about a bratty kid, but of an amazing transformation.
Of finding grace in the most unexpected places.
Joseph experiences God’s favour –
and this is seen in his rags to riches rise in Egypt.
From a position of powerlessness, from having absolutely nothing,
he’s give a job;
he’s given a new name;
he’s given new clothes –
no coat of many colours, this time, but fine linen;
he’s given a wife.
During the years of plenty, he has a harvest of his own:
Joseph, the man who had lost his family,
is now given a new family –
he and his wife have two sons.
Their names show how far he’s come:
Manasseh: who helps him forget his past sorrow;
and Ephraim: who is a reminder of the fruit of his labours in Egypt.

While Joseph knows not to put his trust in things,
his new-found situation is a visible reminder of God:
what God has done,
is doing,
will do,
in his life.
He’s wise enough to know how circumstances can change,
and that it’s not about trusting all the things.
His experience has taught him that what doesn’t change is God –
and that’s where he grounds himself:
in God,
in God’s grace.
God, the One who sees the underdog;
the One who is the God of the first,
the second,
the third,
and more chances...
the One who is present in the dungeon,
in despair,
in the darkness,
as much as in the light –
God, ever-faithful.

Earlier, we performed the sacrament of baptism:
with water and words we demonstrated God’s grace –
God’s love,
and God’s power to transform.
Baptism is a sign of God’s promise to
walk alongside a person through thick and thin;
in the good, the bad, the messy, and the joyful stuff that makes up life.
It’s a sign of a promise that, no matter how often we get it wrong,
the God of the many chances
will always be with us,
always call us back,
always desire the best for us,
and for us to be the best, most authentic self we can be –
for we are created in God’s image.
No matter where we’re at,
no matter how high
or how low,
just as God was with Joseph,
so, baptism witnesses to the truth that God is with us:
that Evie,
that all of us,
are God’s beloved –
that’s our new name 'Beloved'.
Beyond all of the things –
that’s where we find our solid ground,
in that belovedness,
and in belonging to God -
and as we do,
like Joseph,
so we, in our turn use what power and privilege we have in our small corner
to love and to help and to be a blessing to others...
because that’s essentially what the Good News of the Gospel is:
You are loved.
You are blessed:
Now, go, and love God, and share the blessing. Amen.

Sunday sermon: 'Any dream will do' - Joseph series pt1

A three week series on Joseph...

READINGS: Psalm 30:1-3  Genesis 37:1-11

SERMON
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts,
be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

‘I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain
To see for certain what I thought I knew.
Far far away, someone was weeping,
But the world was sleeping,
Any dream will do.’

Well...how could I not quote words from ‘that’ musical?
For most of this week, various songs from 'Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat'
have been annoyingly floating about in my head.
But this particular song ‘Any dream will do’ makes me wonder:
will just any dream do?
Because the exceptionally weird one about a zombie apocalypse that I had the other night
would be one that I don’t think would do at all...
And I hadn’t even eaten any cheese before bed.

In Genesis chapter 37, we’re told:
‘this is the account of Jacob’,
but almost immediately, Jacob takes a back seat in the story.
While technically it may be about what happened to Jacob –
Jacob, who is Abraham’s grandson,
and Isaac’s son - 
the same Jacob who will become known as ‘Israel’
because his sons will form the 12 tribes which become that nation...
while it might be about Jacob, the spotlight turns straight to Joseph:
And what do we have?

In the very first verse concerning Joseph, we discover several things:
he’s seventeen;
he has brothers;
they’re a farming family – for he’s out tending flocks;
oh, yes, and, he’s a wee clipe.
He comes back to the family tent and tells tales on his brothers.
Not nice.
In the following verse, we learn a little more about this son of Jacob:
while there are many other children,
it’s young Joseph who is the apple of his father’s eye –
a child born to Jacob in his advancing years.
Joseph is singled out for special attention:
alone of all his siblings, he receives a magnificent present,
a richly decorated robe –
or, if you prefer the musical version, the coat of many colours.
'I wore my coat, with golden lining
Bright colours shining, wonderful and new
And in the east, the dawn was breaking
And the world was waking
Any dream will do'

Whatever the coat looks like, one thing’s for certain
as he parades about in it, looking grand:
his brothers all know that no matter what they do, what they achieve in life...
it won’t ever hold a candle to Joseph.
It’s as if they’re just the hired help,
and Joseph’s the shining, golden child.
And they hate him for it.
They hate him so much, that they can barely speak to the lad.
We’ve already seen where sibling jealousy can lead, in the story of Cain and Abel.
And here we have this situation rising up again,
as we look into this clearly dysfunctional family of Jacob’s.

But back to Joseph:
at this early stage in the story, Joseph doesn’t come across well.
Either he’s a wee bit clueless regarding the way his brothers feel;
or, he revels in being the favourite and pretty much rubs their noses in it.
This, more so, when he has his first dream about sheaves of corn bowing to his own –
basically, a dream where he, the youngest, is in a position of power over his older brothers.
I think he’s enjoying both the dream, and the telling of it to them.
They hate him all the more –
this laddie is getting way too big for his britches.

Joseph, the dreamer, then has another dream, another big dream:
not only will his brothers bow down to him,
but so will his father and the rest of the family.
The dream is so outrageous in its ambition, that, favourite though he is,
Joseph is soundly rebuked by his father, Jacob.
Remember, this is a culture in which all authority rests with the father –
the patriarch of the family.
His word is ...law.
He has the power to welcome or banish;
the power to bless or to curse;
the power to arrange who you will or won’t marry.
It is from his hand, that you make your living.
The father is both the dispenser of justice,
and the dispenser of money and goods.
Joseph’s dream is seen as deeply disrespectful:
it overturns tradition,
it’s seen to show ambition and a desire for power.
The dream challenges the perceived natural order of things –
placing power with the one who is the least of all his family
as far as power and succession should go.
This second dream only serves to make his brothers even more jealous –
while Jacob, who loves him, is now...a little wary.
While the musical tells us that:
‘any dream will do’, this set of dreams  will certainly not do,
if his family’s reactions are anything to go on.

We know what happens next:
it’s almost as if Jacob sets Joseph up to be the family sneak –
he sends him out to check up on his brothers who are off working,
and it seems as if, with all this to-ing and fro-ing and checking up,
that Joseph gets off work rather easily.
Yet another reason for his brothers to resent him.
Joseph heads off – a longer trip than he expects,
for his brothers have gone much further afield.
Is it deliberate?
Where they’ve chosen to go appears to be rather handy to regularly used trading routes.
And they’re watching him approach.
A plan is hatched:
time to take this laddie down once and for all.
they’re going to kill him, this ‘dreamer’, just like Cain killed his brother before them.
It’s a drastic plan –
and one of the brothers begins to get cold feet; he can’t do it.
Another plan: chuck him in the well; that way, while he will eventually die,
it will be of thirst and exposure,
and not at the end of their bloodied hands.
Behind the plan, Reuben is looking at coming back to rescue his young brother –
he’s been out of favour with his father and this might just do the job of building a bridge.

Joseph arrives, is thrown down the well, and the brothers promptly...
sit down and have their lunch.
That’s pretty cold and callous.
I’m not sure where Reuben’s got to – but he has gone somewhere.
And while he’s out of the picture,
the brothers spot a handy caravan of travellers and cheerfully sell off young Joseph.
So, they haven’t killed him – but they have made a slave of him.
Reuben comes back and is horrified.
The brothers mess up Joseph’s coat with goat blood and take it to their father.
At the end of this part of the story,
we have a distraught father, so consumed with his grief over one son,
that all his sons and daughters together cannot comfort him...
And, we have Joseph, the son, arriving in Egypt, bought by one of Pharaoh’s officials...
How the favourite has fallen.
As the song goes:
'A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden coat flew out of sight
The colours faded into darkness
I was left alone.'

We’ve worked out very early on, that the brothers have no love for Joseph –
but what I find interesting about the text
is that they have even less love for his dreams:
it’s the dreams that scare them.
Joseph’s dreams aren’t fanciful wee daydreams:
these are dreams that challenge the accepted way of doing things;
they overturn the given understanding of power.
If his dreams come true, his brothers will lose their allotted place –
won’t receive the honour they feel they are due.
His father will lose status.
To kill Joseph is to kill the dream:
that’s what they’re desperate to do –
to destroy it,
to smash it down at any cost,
even at the cost of their brother’s life.
But Joseph lives,
and because he does, so do his dreams.
As we follow Joseph’s story over the next few weeks,
we’ll see how those dreams turn out.
And, other dreams will be added to the story.
The dreams are important.
They’ll be vital not only for Joseph’s survival, but for the survival of his family,
and, the survival of the nation where he’s just been sent as a slave.

Throughout both the Old and New Testaments are scattered
many stories of people who have dreams.
For the most part, the dreams are big.
They also speak of overturning the expected way of doing things;
of power being given, not to the mightiest, but to the least of these;
they are dreams in which captives are liberated,
where no more poverty, or suffering exist –
for all are accorded equal shares in God’s kingdom.
They are dreams of justice, and mercy, and compassion.
On occasion, there are those desperate to try and crush or silence, or even kill the dream –
but the dream lives on regardless.

Through the power of the Spirit, the stories of those dreams inspire us to dream:
of a better way,
of a better world.
Of a world in which all thrive and where no food bank donations are needed,
because food banks won’t be needed.
Shortly, we’ll be singing a hymn referencing that great, radical social justice dreamer,
Martin Luther King who had a dream that people would be judged
not by the colour of the skin,
but by the content of their character.
That was a dream that cost him his life –
because, for some, that dream was too big,
too hard,
would cost them what they felt was their own place at the table...
a table that was more than big enough for all.
Any dream, but that dream.
Like Joseph’s brothers, they tried to stop the dream, but the dream still lives on.

In the darkest reaches of the night, what are your dreams?
That your family is not just safe, but that it prospers...?
That they are loved and cared for
and as they make their way in the world, that they do well,
and that people are kind to them...?
Or, that same dream for yourself:
that you are loved, cared for,
experience the kindness of others...?
And wider?
That our neighbours and villages are good places to live –
where good neighbourliness exists,
where all treat each other with kindness and respect?
And perhaps, the dream is wider still:
that our world is a good place to live –
where peace prevails,
where the hungry are fed,
the sick are tended,
where all do more than just merely survive, but flourish.

Scratch underneath any civil rights movement, and you’ll find that’s the basis of the dream.
Scratch underneath the words of Jesus,
or the stories of the kingdom in the bible...
and there, you’ll find the dream.
For the flourishing of humanity,
and of creation,
is written on God’s heart,
and sent to us, in dreams,
by the prompting of the Spirit.

Coming back full circle to that song:
‘Any dream will do.’
No. Not just any dream,
but the dream of what our lives could be like,
the dream of what our world could be like,
that’s the dream we’re called to follow, and to bring into being –
for that is the dream of building God’s kingdom of heaven on earth.
And only that dream will do.
Let’s dare to dream and see what God will do -
let’s dream, and let’s dream big.
Amen.

HARVEST PICS: Send in the goats...

Before worship... or 'The Silence of the Goats'
Huge thanks to our 5 schools for their wonderful goat decorations

Meant to get some pic's up from our Harvest Service last week - better late than never?!

Massive thanks to so many who got involved in various ways to help make Harvest such a success:

the children and staff at the 5 schools within the parish, who provided excellent and colourful goats as part of our support for the work of that great charity, 

'Send a Cow', this year.

Thanks to our team of decorators - 

The Harvest Loaf has arrived... and tasted delicious at lunch afterwards

the windows, Vestibule, and through in the Hall, looked beautiful, as did the overall Harvest gift display at the front of the worship space.

Thanks to our Social Committee, who organised a tasty and very welcome Harvest lunch - yum!

And, after worship and lunch, thanks to all the volunteers who stayed behind to help clear away, package up gifts of fresh food for folk, gather all the other food to be taken to Clydesdale Food Bank, and remove the flock of goats...

Thanks for the gifts given for our Harvest display, and the money given for the work of Send a Cow - more money will be coming in, but currently, we've raised enough money equivalent to 3 goats. Great stuff!

Billy and Billy Jr. climbing mountains and
surveying the Harvest gifts

Phalanx of goats admiring some
of our lovely decorated windows

Window display...

Window display...

Window display...

Harvest Thanksgiving 2018: 14 October

Sun 14 October, 10.30am in the parish church at Abington

Join us as we celebrate the Harvest!

And, after worship, why not stay for tea/coffee, and thereafter, a simple soup lunch? 

Everyone welcome!

This year, we're once again supporting the work of Send a Cow -
with a bit of a twist:
we're thinking...
GOATS
Did you know that £33 will pay for a goat, and £18 for kid?
Cows and goats provide milk to help feed families.
Together with sheep, chickens and rabbits
they give mineral-rich manure to improve the soil and its crops.
Working alongside our five schools again, we're hoping to see how many goats and kids
we might be able to 'send' to farmers in the countries that Send a Cow works in.
We may have some interesting visitors in our worship service -
and we're hoping they don't eat the Harvest displays...
There will be an opportunity, as you leave worship, to make a donation to 'Send a Cow'

*if you'd like to make a donation of food, to help with the Harvest display,

please drop off items on Saturday 13th October between 1-4pm*

• All dried/ tinned food will be taken to Clydesdale Foodbank in Carluke
• A large box of fresh produce will be donated to Clannalba, 
• and the remainder will be put on a table for folk to take away -
  having made a small financial donation to raise funds for the church

Sun Oct 7: Sermon - 'Building projects'

READINGS: Psalm 49:1-13,16-20; Genesis 11:1-9

SERMON ‘Building projects’
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts
be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen

Three words:
permanence;
power;
pride.

The first word:
Permanence.
Occasionally, in game shows or pub quizzes,
you might get asked to name popular songs that use a question for the title of a song.
And, putting you on the spot a little, sorry,
I’m wondering if anyone can think of one such song?
A song that uses a question for its title?
This is usually where I go blank...

Having done a quick check on the interwebz,
I was actually surprised at just how many there are out there –
There’s songs that ask for directions:
‘Where do the children play?’
‘Do you know the way to San Jose?’
and that old favourite –
‘Is this the way to Amarillo?’
There are songs about time:
‘Does anybody really know what time it is?’
‘How soon is now?’
‘How long has this been going on?’
There are songs about the weather that would have made even Noah proud:
this one before the Flood –
‘Have you ever seen the rain?’ 
and this one mid-Flood –
‘Who’ll stop the rain?’ 
Actually, both songs by the same group –
clearly a little rain anxiety there.
And, thinking of our friend, Noah, there are songs that ask questions about animals:
‘Who let the dogs out?’
‘How much is that doggie in the window?’
and ‘What’s new, pussycat?’ 
...although that last one might just be a stretch.
Many of the songs asking questions are ones invariably involving matters
of the heart - too many to mention.
And then, well, then, there’s Queen’s brilliant song,
wondering about permanence and impermanence –
a big life question sung with soaring, passionate, vocal intensity
by the late Freddy Mercury:
‘Who wants... to live ...forever?’
Permanence.

After the Flood, God asks that Noah and his descendants ‘go forth, be fruitful, and multiply.’
It’s the same command given way back in the Garden to Adam and Eve.
Humans are called to go out into the world –
every corner, every nook and cranny of it.
God has given the run of the world to explore,
to play in,
to inhabit.
In the giving is also the gifting of the creation itself:
placed in human hands to tend –
and to make use of for food when needed.
Several generations after Noah, after God’s call to scatter, we find many more humans:
they have indeed been fruitful and multiplied.
And we find them...
not scattered,
but hunkered down together in a place called Shinar –
roughly around the area of Tigris and Euphrates rivers –
for us, that’s in modern-day Iraq.
There they are.
And there, they’re determined to stay.
Strength in numbers.
A permanent place to call ‘home’,
to settle, to be comfortable in.
But, as they gather more things:
the latest model plough,
furnishings to make the house feel cosy,
maybe the occasional luxury item...
well, there’s the growing sense that all this treasure they’re gathering will need protected.
They want to be safe.
They want their stuff to be safe.
And that’s fine.
But along with the house and the various items they gather,
they know that life won’t go on forever –
that life is fragile,
impermanent.
The want a sense of permanence in an impermanent world.
They gather together and come up with a plan:
‘let’s build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens,’ –
and listen carefully to the reason why –
‘so that we may make a name for ourselves 
and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.’

Permanence.
They know that at some point, each one of them will die.
They hope that they don’t slip unnoticed from the pages of history, however:
they want to build a monument that they hope will stand forever –
want to leave a legacy for all future generations to see,
and to understand, just how great these ancestors were.
If they can’t be immortal, at least their names will live forever –
‘Who wants to live forever?’
They do, and this tower is their way of trying to do it.

This is a plan that is hugely ambitious in scale.
This tower will be the biggest,
the brightest,
the best.
But it’s a plan that has at its foundation...
fear:
the fear of being forgotten, of fading away;
the fear of being insignificant,
of their lives not really adding up to much in the great scheme of history.
Putting their plan into action, harnessing the latest technology:
making bricks instead of using stone,
tar instead of mortar,
the building begins to rise from the ground – higher, and higher.
This tower will make a statement about them indeed...

But a tower is quite a specific building.
Has quite particular purposes:
A tower is also a place of safety;
it’s secure – a stronghold.
From atop a tower, you can see your enemies coming;
when all else falls, a tower is the last place standing – your ultimate refuge;
it’s the best place to keep your treasure secure because it’s the best place to defend yourself.
What statement does a tower make?
It’s a show of strength to enemies.
But, who are our builders afraid of?
They are one people, united in a common language,
made stewards of the earth –
in which everything has been given over to them.
There are no enemies out there.
Again we see fear as a foundation for building:
fear of premature death,
fear of losing what they’ve gathered over the years.
But, a strange fear, this, that looks for enemies and finds them,
even though they have no natural enemies at this point.
Perhaps another fear at play here, too:
fear of being dependant - for, if they build the tower, they can look after themselves –
which leads us nicely to the second word.

Power.
While they are powerful –
as evidenced by their building project,
they are no where near as powerful as God.
Why don’t they scatter?
Because there’s strength in numbers –
it’s using their combined strength that makes them powerful –
but in choosing to build the tower they use their power unwisely.
Here we have a snapshot of a whole society caught up in using their power
incorrectly, for the focus is wrong –
instead of putting their trust in God, they put their trust in themselves.
While they will be the first group of people to use their strength in numbers for
wrong reasons, they will definitely not be the last –
as evidenced by other monuments left by groups who
used their power to take power from others –
from crumbling slave plantations in the Deep South of the United States,
through to the barbed wire, barracks, and gas chambers of Belsen, and Auschwitz.
The tower of Babel is an attempt by its builders, to demonstrate that like God,
they, too are creative, and creators;
that they, too, are powerful;
that they, too, are, in their own way, indestructible.
They don’t want to be runner-up to God –
they want to be the biggest, the best...
Their drive for significance could be seen as a sign of a
deep-seated desire to ditch God, perhaps even replace God:
to be worshipped as gods by their descendants, a little further down the track.
The tower is a monument showing that they will do anything for power,
even compromise their very souls;
a monument suggesting – stating - that they are worthy of being worshipped...
which leads us to that third little word.

Pride.
Here, we need to ask some questions.
First: is there anything wrong with building a tower?
Well, no, not necessarily.
God isn’t anti-skyscraper –
remember, while the story of God’s relationship with human beings begins in a garden,
it ends with the heavenly city coming down to earth where God will dwell with all people.
Second: is there anything wrong with working together to achieve a common goal?
Actually, many places elsewhere in the Bible applaud it:
Jesus even prays that his followers are united in mind and purpose,
in the prayer recorded in John chapter 17.
Third: is there anything wrong with wanting to work to the best of your ability –
to stretch yourself, and set challenges?
Well, again, not necessarily.
What’s wrong is the motive behind what’s being done.
In the case of the Tower of Babel, the motive here is totally self-focused:
all their creativity and vision,
all their energy and passion,
everything they have,
is expended and extended on a project that’s for their sole benefit.
They’re focused upon their own achievements, their own satisfaction.
They want to make a name for themselves:
the tower is a ‘hey, look how at awesome we are’ monument –
a monument to themselves:
in essence, they’re putting themselves up on a pedestal
and, my word, they’re liking what they see taking shape.
But the plan goes against everything that they’re created for:
to scatter and to tend the earth.
And, from solely practical level, by staying in the one place,
they’ll very soon effectively deplete all the resources around them.
Scattering leaves a lighter footprint on the world.
Their pride will destroy them –
feeding on their own ego may lead to their actual starvation.

Permanence.
Power.
Pride.

While the story of Babel may at one level be a way of explaining why
human beings don’t all speak the same language,
at heart, it’s an odd story of a rescue.
Often, the scattering is seen as a punishment:
God slapping the humans back down for stepping out of their allotted place.
I wonder, though, if the scattering is more a sign of God’s mercy and grace at work.
God, once again rescuing humans from their very selves
and that habit for self-destructive behaviour?
God, once again reminding humans about what foundations
are best to build their own lives on.
The builders of Babel wanted to leave a legacy, and they did –
the world ‘Babel’ when translated means ‘confusion.’
They’re remembered for the greatness, sure,
but it’s the greatness of their folly, of their pride:
not for their mighty monumental building,
but for their monumental mistake in building upon the wrong foundations.

Over these last weeks, we’ve heard different stories about choices made.
Here again, we see choice at work –
where you choose to put your focus, your energies;
how you live your life and make it count;
and where you find meaning in it.
The builders of Babel chose to focus on themselves,
to trust in themselves,
their own strength,
to find their security in a tower –
and to hunker in there and stay safe from non-existent enemies:
to be an embattled community.
But we were created to be an emboldened community –
made to walk through this world with God by our side as friend, as companion –
to put our trust in him.
We have no need of bricks or tar to build a tower:
he is our strength,
our strong, high tower –
he is our security.
He is also the God who is One, yet Three –
the God of unity and diversity.
The God who calls us to be his people –
not as clones, but in all our marvellous, weird and wonderful difference.
It’s in God, where we find our unity.

‘Who wants to live forever?’ sang Freddy Mercury.
The tower builders wanted to leave behind a legacy.
But, what legacy do we want to leave behind?
Confusion and chaos,
or, kindness and care?
In Queen’s song, a song reflecting upon the impermanence of life,
permanence is eventually found –
not in the bricks and mortar of stuff,
but in the intangible, impossible power of love.
It is love that lasts forever because God is love –
God is the one from whom all love comes.
In the words of a prayer from the Scottish Episcopal communion liturgy:
‘God is love,
and we are his people:
there is no room for fear in love.
We love because God loved us first.’
In God, we find our permanence,
our power,
and can let go of our pride –
for he is our foundation,
and grounded upon that foundation,
we work together with our many gifts, in our many ways,
all one body in Christ,
and leave a legacy of love.  Amen

Concert: 'Shine' at Crawfordjohn hall

Tomorrow Night:

Come along and...

'SHINE'

An opportunity to support this great youth organisation while at the same time, having a great night out.

Tickets can be bought in advance, 

or at the door.

Some excellent door prizes on offer,

and a tombola.

See you there - and bring your friends.

*a joint fundraiser with proceeds being shared between 'Shine' and Upper Clyde Parish Church

Harvest 2018: Go, go, goats

Sun 14 October, 10.30am in the parish church at Abington

Join us as we celebrate the Harvest!

And, after worship, why not stay for tea/coffee, and thereafter, a simple soup lunch? 

Everyone welcome!

This year, we're once again supporting the work of Send a Cow -
with a bit of a twist:
we're thinking...
GOATS
Did you know that £33 will pay for a goat, and £18 for kid?
Cows and goats provide milk to help feed families.
Together with sheep, chickens and rabbits
they give mineral-rich manure to improve the soil and its crops.
Working alongside our five schools again, we're hoping to see how many goats and kids
we might be able to 'send' to farmers in the countries that Send a Cow works in.
We may have some interesting visitors in our worship service -
and we're hoping they don't eat the Harvest displays...
There will be an opportunity, as you leave worship, to make a donation to 'Send a Cow'

*if you'd like to make a donation of food, to help with the Harvest display,

please drop off items on Saturday 13th October between 10am-12pm*

• All dried/ tinned food will be taken to Clydesdale Foodbank in Carluke
• A large box of fresh produce will be donated to Clannalba, 
• and the remainder will be put on a table for folk to take away -
  having made a small financial donation to raise funds for the church