Sun 29 Dec: worship - Lessons and Carols

Our traditional Lessons and Carols service this morning, where, through scripture, poetry, and song, we shared once more in the greatest love story ever told - that of God's love for us.
A gentle service for the end of the year, and an opportunity for singing a few more carols. After worship, mince pies abounded during morning tea, as did Christmas chocolate.

This coming Sunday will be the Twelfth Day of Christmas, and so we'll be thinking about Wise Men following a star,
and looking ahead at the start of a new year as we give out 'star words' - words to use for reflection and mediation over the year. There'll also be the chance to sing one or two stray carols before we pack up the season of Christmas, along with the decorations and the tree.

Meanwhile, a Christmas blessing...

When the presents are unwrapped 
and the living room strewn, 
I wish for you one more gift: 
God with us. 
When the visitors have arrived 
and finally gone home again, 
I wish for you one more guest: 
God with us. 
When ‘Merry Christmas’ has been exchanged 
in words of greeting, 
I wish for you one more word: 
Emmanuel, God with us. 
When the crackers are pulled 
in an explosion of disappointment, 
I wish for you a better surprise: 
God with us. 
When the carols have been sung 
and the angels return to heaven, 
I wish for you a louder song: 
Alleluia: 
God is with us. 
When the TV takes over 
and the sofa’s cushions beckon, 
I wish for you a deeper peace: 
God with us. 
When the day is complete 
and the festivities ending, 
I wish for you a new beginning 
of God with us. 
And when the Christmas tree lights go out 
and the dark of winter returns, 
I wish for you 
the eternal light of God now with us.

Lessons and Carols service

Join us tomorrow for our traditional service of Lessons and Carols

Worship Sun 22 Dec: Advent 4

A cheerful and busy day, with morning and evening services...
At our 10.30am service in the parish church at Abington, we:
compared Christmas jumpers [some amazing designs] and wondered what they might tell us about the true meaning of Christmas...
told the old, old story of the Nativity as together, we built a nativity set -
24 lucky people were handed a number as they entered, and as their number was called during the service, each came up to reveal what was hidden behind an Advent door,
which was then used to build up our Nativity set. We were, alas, missing a Wise Man,
and wondered if he'd taken a cheeky tea break at the last oasis before Bethlehem.
There were also issues with a 3-legged camel, and some very bad
'winky, wonky, plinky, plonky' donkey jokes.
A fun and busy service, with reflections, carols, and good humour.
A good number stayed on for morning tea - with the added gift of some excellent tablet.

In the evening, we held Scotland's highest carol service - accompanied by our
friends from Leadhills Silver Band. Some excellent playing and singing, followed
by mince pies and a cuppa.

At both services, a truly lovely atmosphere, as we entered into the season of good cheer
and good news for all.

Join us, from 11pm in the church hall at Abington for a pre-Watchnight service cuppa and mince pie...
and then come through into the church for our Watchnight service at 11.30pm

Christmas services at Upper Clyde Parish

'Tidings of comfort and joy' service...

A quieter time of worship where we remember those who are no longer with us...

All welcome. After our time of remembering tea and coffee will be available in the hall...

News and events: wk beg. 2 Dec

Week beginning 2 Dec:

Clydesdale Foodbank - Our Foodbank box is once again available in the vestibule
  and we'll happily receive donations over the upcoming Sundays. As we'd like folk
  to receive items before Christmas, the box will be uplifted and delivered on Sunday
   22 Dec. Thanks in advance for your continued, generous support of this project.

Tues 3 Dec, 7pm: Lanark Presbytery meets at Greyfriar's, Lanark

Sun 8 Dec. 10.30am: Morning worship pulpit swap - Worship this morning will be
   conducted by Mr Bill Love, Interim Moderator and Locum of Douglas Valley Church of Scotland.
   The Minister will be sharing in worship with the congregations at Douglas and Rigside.

Further ahead:
Wed 11 Dec., 2pm: Guild meeting in the church hall. Our guest this month is Mrs Poppy Brown,
   who will be sharing Christmas craft ideas with us.

Thurs 12 Dec., 7pm: 'Wordworks' writing group meets at the Colebrooke Arms. All welcome.

Sat 14 Dec., 2.30pm: 'Tidings of comfort and joy' service - a quiet, reflective time of worship
  as we meet together and remember those who may not be with us this Christmas.
  After the service, the hall will be open for a cuppa and space to chat.
   All welcome.

Sun Worship 1 Dec: Advent 1 - Shhh! Can you hear it? Listen...

This morning we shared together in the bread and wine of Communion.
Our Advent theme today: hope...
And, due to Communion and Advent candles, and such, a slightly shorter sermon.

READINGS Ps 122; Isaiah 2:1-5; Matt 24:36-44

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.

Shhhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere ahead…nah, let’s be blunt,
sometime a wee while back about the beginning of October
the relentlessness of the ‘Greatest hits of Christmas’
begins blasting from every shop –
a continuous loop of musical kitsch
with a wee backing track
of people passing by who chorus:
‘it’s waaaay too early!’

Shhhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere ahead, not too far ahead,
a symphony of ‘pings’ on the pc
confirming purchases made,
and the rattle and hum of vans
with deliveries on their way.

Shhhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere a little way ahead,
the rustle of paper as objects
are surreptitiously wrapped and hidden,
and ends with a flustered ‘phew’ of the giver
as they tick another name off their list.

Shhhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere ahead,
underneath the noise of tacky tunes,
of clicking keyboards,
of vans groaning under the weight of oh-too-many things,
even underneath the subdued whisper
of paper puckering at the touch
of small probing hands quietly exploring
the not quite so hidden depths of cupboards…
maybe
there’s something else for ears to hear.

Shhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere ahead,
below the rustle of wings,
and a star’s glimmer –
to the ‘clink’ of coins being counted,
an Emperor takes stock of his empire,
of his lands,
of his subjects,
of his power…
And, in a backwater of that empire
in a crowded town,
footsteps sound
as a couple seek shelter for the night.

Shhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere further along the road,
there’s the sound of impending birth –
a young woman groans with the pain of it,
her man holds her hand
tries not to look panicked,
and offers quiet words of reassurance
while animals look on in a stable
and a mouse scuttles past in the hay.

Shhhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere, ahead in the distance,
sounds:
the bleat of a startled sheep,
the quiet gasp of shock from shepherds in a field;

Shhhhh!
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere, up ahead,
there’s a vast choir of angels
singing in the heavens –
if you stretch yer ears,
you might just catch
a snatch of hallelujah’s song;

Shhhhh!
Listen…
Can you hear?
Somewhere a wee bit further,
there’s the pad of camel hoof on sand,
a Wise Man yawning
as he watches heaven’s sign
and cradles a gift fit for a king.

Shhhhh!
Listen…
Can you hear?
these are the noises
alerting us to get ready,
to wake,
prepare.
These are the sounds –
for those with ears to hear –
that tell the beginnings of
a story stirring:
a story of a life –
the great story of new life.
Within the story
after the waiting,
after the watching,
there will be other sounds,
adding to the story
of the One born in the manger.
If you listen,
you may just hear
the crackle of crusty bread
being broken and shared,
the gush of wine
poured into cup...
and a little further on,
after more waiting,
and a little more watching,
the crack of a stone
rolling back
as a breath is taken
and death is done forever.

Shhhhh!
Can you hear it?
Listen…
Can you hear?
Time itself, is ticking
and the story has begun –
the story of hope
and of light in the darkness;
a story where we need not go up
to the House of the Lord,
for God, in Jesus,
has come down to us.
Rejoice,
...and prepare for his coming.

Let’s pray:
Lord Jesus Christ, 
we await your coming,
We wait filled with hope,
knowing your light 
will shine in the darkness.
We wait anticipating your peace,
believing that one day 
it will fill our world.
We wait, embracing your love:
may we reach out to share it 
with our neighbours.
We wait with joy bubbling within us
in expectation of your birth.
Lord we wait –
Come soon and fill us with your life. Amen.*
                                              *prayer - Christine Sine

Sun worship, 24 Nov: 'Christ the King'

READINGS/ Col. 1:13-23;  Luke 1:68-79; Luke 23:33-43

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.

It is an object of power –
small, and beautiful,
perfectly crafted, and pleasing to the eye.
Highly polished gold gleams, catching the light.
All who see it are overcome with desire for it –
they would move heaven and earth for it,
sacrifice all for the love and want of it...
It is an object of power –
small, and beautiful, and deadly
to all who wear it and wield it apart from its creator.
The ring was crafted long ago by one who desired above all else,
to have power over all things.
But the ring was lost during a great battle and over centuries a desperate search
has been taking place by its master,
and by those who would prevent the ring from ever being reunited with him.
It is an object of power –
small, and beautiful, and deadly
to all creatures and to all of creation should its master ever wear it.
In the past, some, who meant well, tried to master the ring –
hoping to use its power for good but it proved to be their undoing:
lured by its gleam, they were lost,
and were corrupted by its immense power.
The only hope, then, is to place this
small and beautiful and deadly object of power
out of harm’s way:
it must be destroyed...

Power.
If the great saga of The Lord of the Rings had to be described in one word,
then ‘power’ would be that word.
All the action, all the motivations, are driven by power –
the craving for it no matter the cost,
the fear of it –
how it can destroy, and how it can be misused.
The story is a cautionary tale of how absolute power can corrupt:
a tale giving us a glimpse of what leadership looks like when it is driven
by the fuel of power for power’s sake –
power without responsibility,
power used without accountability...
It shows, also, that, even with the best of intentions –
as the old saying goes:
absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Power is a seductive and dangerous thing.

In the Lord of the Rings, we get a sense of the character
of the maker of the ring of power –
there is nothing he will not do to get the ring back;
he rules by fear,
he uses violence to get what he wants,
he is a master of deception,
he is a bringer of war,
a sower of suspicion, mistrust, and division.
Those who follow him are expendable,
small beer to his great ambition for world domination.
He is a bringer of darkness and those who serve him live in the shadows.
His is a rule that brings despair and hopelessness.
If he were to get the ring back, he would rule the world,
and his reign would last forever
and it would be wholly awful.

Against this terrifying foe, the task to destroy the ring seems hopeless...
And here’s the counterpoint in the story:
we see another kind of power –
the power of hope, even in the darkest of situations.
Hope’s power brings with it the steely determination
to resist the darkness and to aim for the light –
to fight to make the world a better place:
to redeem power itself,
so that those who are in positions of power
lead not for their own sake, but for the sake of others...
not for selfish ambition, but in selfless service
so that the darkness disappears and all can stop living in the shadows,
and thrive in the glorious light together.
The writer of The Lord of the Rings,
J. R. R. Tolkien, was a man with a deep faith –
and his faith is the bedrock upon which the great themes
within his epic tale are built upon.

Power.
On this last day of the church year,
perhaps it is no coincidence that the readings we have,
that the theme we’re given,
is centred upon Christ as King.
At this end-point of the Christian year,
it is good to stop and reflect upon who we follow,
who it is we look to for meaning in our lives,
and for the strength to keep walking in faith.
And, as we think of Christ as King,
we find ourselves faced with quite a different
understanding of power, and of the way it’s used.

In Colossians, we see Jesus described as
‘firstborn over all creation’ –
for by him all things were created...
even those who themselves sit upon thrones of power owe that power to Jesus.
It is only by his power that all things are held together.
He is the Head of the church;
his power is such that he was the first to overcome death,
so that, through it, we too might live.
He uses his power to reconcile people to God.
Christ the King, as shown in Colossians,
reminds us that, without him, nothing would exist:
it is only through his power that we are here.
And, only his ongoing power keeps everything from falling
and shattering into nothingness.
In him, we live and breathe, and move,
and are reconciled with God.

In the first of our readings from Luke,
we hear Zechariah talk of his son John,
and speak of the coming of Jesus –
whose power is seen as something that delivers people;
and here, power is used with the word mercy.
With Christ’s coming, we see the power of light over darkness –
‘the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death’
and we see that his reign is one marked by guiding his people onto ‘the path of peace.’
At the end of the year, as we look back, so we look forward.
And in this first reading from Luke,
we see new beginnings, and we see the power of hope –
Christ, the King, delivers us from the darkness, brings us out of the shadows,
has the power to end conflict so that all are reconciled to one another.

In our second reading from Luke,
we find a strange kingship and power shown in a jolting, and disconcerting manner.
In contrast to the other two positive and glowing, hopeful readings,
we find ourselves... at the foot of the Cross.
We see Jesus, the King,
as political prisoner,
as religious outcast.
We see a man,
racked with pain,
looking down upon a crowd.
We see him watch those who take delight in his agony
and hear, as he does,
the harsh voices dripping with venom, spewing vitriol and hate
as they mock his mangled body.
We see him...
see his power seemingly stripped away;
we see him...
stripped of clothing,
stripped of dignity,
being stripped of life itself...
and even in the midst of the horror of it,
we see him,
hanging there, between two criminals,
and hear him speaking words of comfort,
words of reconciliation,
words of promise and blessing and Paradise,
to one of these companions in death...

Firstborn of all creation,
hope of our salvation,
sufferer of crucifixion...
This, this is our King –
stripping himself of power so that we might come out of the darkness
and into his marvellous light;
this is our King –
who gave of himself utterly, selflessly, for us...
This is our King –
who shows us that true power comes at a cost:
not at the expense of others,
but at the expense of self for others.
Here, at the very centre of this scene of utter powerlessness...
we find, strangely, the beating heart of where true power lives,
for only true power has the strength to choose to show such complete vulnerability....
This is our King –
who, even while suffering and exposed and vulnerable
can still offer words of comfort to another:
‘Today, you will be with me in Paradise.’

Power.
On this last day of the church year,
on this Christ the King Sunday,
we are reminded again of what true power is –
it’s about strength, but not about brute force;
it’s about using words to speak creation into being,
as well as speaking comfort from a Cross;
it’s about showing a different way,
breaking the cycle violence,
and finding the way of peace.
It’s about suffering and dying...
and it doesn’t end there –
for it’s about hope and new life, and the promise of new beginnings.

We are living – have been living – in challenging times.
We watch as governments seem broken,
as world leaders seem driven by power for the sake of power itself
and their own self-seeking ambitions...
we hear lies and false news
and wonder who is speaking truth to power –
where is the accountability,
the responsibility;
the stability?
We feel the divisions,
and sometimes experience a sense of living in the shadows not the light...

Who do we look to in such a time as this?
Who will show us what power – used well and wisely looks like?
Who will strengthen us and help us keep on going
with words of comfort, and blessing?
Who will encourage us to offer words of comfort and blessing to others?
Jesus Christ, our King:
firstborn of all creation,
hope of our salvation,
sufferer of crucifixion,
living proof of resurrection.
We look to him;
are strengthened by him,
are encouraged by our friends and companions in the faith to keep on going.
We find ways to walk as he walked through life,
for he is our King,
for he has shown us the way,
for he has faith in us that we can follow him.
As we listen to others,
as we protect, and comfort, reconcile, and bless...
as we live our lives using the power we have in service and care for others –
we find that the most radical manifesto ever imagined and dreamt of
is the power of love.

Power.
On this last day of the church year,
we remind ourselves of who our King is,
as we step forward into a new church year and, move into the season of Advent:
the season of watching and waiting,
of yearning and longing for Christ’s coming,
and, as we hold firm to God’s promise of deliverance,
we remember in hope that life, here and now,
and in the heavenly hereafter,
can be better than this.
We walk into Advent,
and wait for the coming of the light –
and for the coming of new life
as we strain to hear the first cries of the babe in the manger.
We walk into Advent
even though we live in uncertain times,
even though we may feel afraid and wonder what will come.
We walk into Advent,
and walk into each new day with confidence –
for even though we may not have confidence
in earthly powers,
we can have confidence in Christ, our King.
He is our hope.
And he is the one,
who speaks comfort to our fears,
reminds us that we are reconciled with God,
and who offers us
words of promise and blessing...
and who shows us the way to Paradise.

Let’s pray:
Christ our King –
Word of life...
you are God’s ‘good news’ story.
The daily news reads like bad news,
stories of death and destruction
litter the front pages,
crying for attention.

that we sometimes cannot bear to give.

The submitted ‘copy’
of the story in our world
is one of tyranny and oppression,
greed and a lack of care,
inhumanity and desperation
and makes our hearts cry:
‘God, where are you?’

Yet within us lies
the sovereign truth of love
which reminds that the past
has held atrocities that
the present does not know,
and the future holds a promise
that the present cannot crush.

And so, in your strength,
the strength of the
Word of the One
who walked the earth as the living God,
we will endure,
we will rejoice
and so, we will hold faith
that humanity will endure,
humanity will rejoice.
Christ, our King,
You came as a babe,
you lived and breathed,
that we can know that God lives
and that we too shall live.
What peace,
what hope,
what promise is this?
It is the promise of God,
the peace of God,
the promise of life,
the peace of life.
It is blessing. ...
It is your good news story,
Christ, our King,
and it is enough. Amen.

News, events, info: wk beg.11 Nov thru 20th Nov

What's happening over the next wee while...

Minister’s time off:
Nikki is using up her leftover annual leave before Advent and Christmas begin.
She’ll be off work from Tues 12th to Thur 20th 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

Wednesday 13 Nov, 2pm:
the Guild meets in the Church hall and our speaker will be the Rev. Ali Pandian,
Hospital Chaplain at Wishaw General.

Thurs 14 Nov, 7pm: 
‘Wordworks’ writing group meets at the Colebrooke Arms Hotel in Crawfordjohn.
This group is open to anyone – bring something you may be writing, or something from a writer
you enjoy and would like to share.

Sunday 17 November, 10.30:
we welcome the Rev. Dr Anne Logan former Minister of Stockbridge Parish Church,
as she conducts worship for us in Nikki's absence.

Parish Magazine: volunteers needed for distribution.
The Christmas edition of the Parish Magazine is now back from the printers.
Over the last few editions, so many of you have kindly offered your time to help distribute
the magazine through the Parish. If you’re able to take some to drop through letter boxes
in your street, or wider village, or to some of the outlying farms, please see Dee,
who is co-ordinating this. And many thanks, as ever, for helping with this –
it can’t be done without you!

Sun worship, Nov 10: morning service, Remembrance Sunday

This from our service at 10.30 in the parish church at Abington...


READINGS/ Matt 5:43-48 and Eph 6:10-18


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

We’ve all heard the old saying:
‘Sticks and stones will break my bones,
but names will never hurt me.’

And you know, over the years,
I’ve come to look upon that particular saying with a healthy dose of scepticism.
While that may be the case that name-calling
won’t necessarily bruise your body or break a bone, that’s not the whole picture:
repeated, ongoing name-calling
can bruise the soul – can be soul-destroying;
it can break your sense of self down, bit by bit causing emotional and psychological harm.
It can be a powerful tool to dehumanise a person,
to effectively cause someone to become no one,
something other...
something other than human.
And when you’ve done that, you can justify any amount of bad behaviour...
Which is why name-calling is such a powerful weapon for those fighting wars:
it turns people into things –
faceless enemies that need to be destroyed at all costs.

And so, with the onset of the First World War, the propagandists got to work.
They produced countless recruitment posters
appealing to those who craved release from the humdrum of everyday life,
or to those who had been raised on heroic tales and wanted to be
noble and heroic themselves – fighters in a just and noble cause.
And in the midst of these, there were posters referring to those on the other side of the conflict as:
‘Murderers’
‘Barbarians’
‘Savages’
Posters designed to produce outrage,
urging their readers to avenge the dire doings of such ‘monsters’ –
posters trumpeting:
‘The Hun is at the gate!’
and
‘Destroy the mad brutes’
with depictions of the enemy as foul, slavering monsters devouring the innocent.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the battle lines,
the same thing was going on the other way around.
All sides in the conflict were at the same game:
doing their best to show the very worst in the other...
doing their best to demonstrate that they were not fighting normal, everyday human beings,
but terrifying beasts that needed to be destroyed -
dehumanising and othering the enemy.
In the end,
‘Sticks and stones will break my bones,
but names will never hurt me,’
is utter tosh:
as the propagandists knew and still know, name-calling can, ultimately, pave the way to killing.
Words matter –
words are powerful and need to be handled with care.
While meaning something else entirely, that old war saying ‘careless talk costs lives’
could be very readily re-purposed in this case.

In that great classic, ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’,
we see that tension between viewing the one
being fought as something other than human,
and realising, in the end, just how human they are...
During a raid across ‘no man’s land’, the main character in the novel, Paul,
dives for safety in a bomb crater to wait out a raid by the enemy.
At some point, someone falls into the crater with him.
Instinct takes over, and Paul immediately stabs the man.
He is now in the crater, for hours,
in the darkness,
in the mud,
with the man who takes a long time to die.
It is his first kill
and, it is ...traumatic.
Gradually, his own humanity asserts itself –
he helps his enemy,
makes him a little more comfortable, gives him water.
The wound, though, is mortal.
Eventually, the man dies.
As young Paul looks at his enemy up close,
the faceless enemy becomes human, just as he is.
Paul wonders about this man, his life, his loves.
‘I close his eyes. 
They are brown, his hair is black and a bit curly at the sides. 
The mouth is full and soft beneath his moustache; the nose is slightly arched, 
the skin brownish; it is now not so pale as it was before, when he was still alive....
No doubt his wife still thinks of him; she does not know what has happened. 
He looks as if he would have often have written to her;
she will still be getting mail from him.
To-morrow, in a week's time - perhaps even a stray letter a month hence. 
She will read it, and in it he will be speaking to her.’
As Paul effectively ‘re-humanises’ his enemy, he is filled with remorse
and a desire to apologise, make amends:
'I speak to him and say to him: 
"Comrade, I did not want to kill you. 
If you jumped in here again, I would not do it, 
if you would be sensible too. 
But you were only an idea to me before, 
an abstraction that lived in my mind and called forth its appropriate response. 
It was that abstraction I stabbed. 
But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. 
I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; 
now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. 
Forgive me, comrade. 
We always see it too late. 
Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, 
that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, 
and that we have the same fear of death, 
and the same dying and the same agony. 
Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy? 
If we threw away these rifles and this uniform you could be my brother...’

Paul will later find the soldier’s pocket-book,
and learn more about this man through the letters and photographs
that fall from its open pages.
Paul learns his name – Gerard Duval;
learns his trade – printer;
learns that he does indeed have a wife, and a daughter
as he looks upon them standing by an ivy clad wall.
His enemy is not a beast, rather, he is a fragile human being:
so very human, so very normal.
Sticks and stones...
and names that can do terrible, terrible damage.

We know now, what those who entered into the First World War did not:
that it wasn’t to be the ‘war to end all wars.’
We know that other wars have followed,
we know other names that have been used within the machinery of war.
Yesterday marked the 81st anniversary of the Kristallnacht pogrom
against Jewish people in Germany and Austria.
90 Jews were murdered.
Hundreds of synagogues were burnt.
In the years preceding, and, in the war that would begin the following year,
a long campaign using words had been waged against those who were Jewish...
dehumanising words,
words describing Jewish people as:
‘sub-human’
‘parasites’
‘vermin’...
Words that lulled people into an acceptance of genocide.

Words have continued to be employed down the decades since,
in order to wear the cogs of conscience down to allow for horrors to continue.
And friends, as an aside, I am very concerned about the way words
are currently being used within political debates and in the reporting of them by the media:
politicians and journalists are playing a deadly game when using words such as:
‘surrenderers’
‘traitors’
‘mutineers’
‘enemies of the people’
‘fascists’...
these from all sides of the political fence.
It’s language that’s seen the rise in death threats to different politicians,
and, in the case of Jo Cox, her death.
It does feel like democracy is broken when we can’t
debate differences of opinion without ‘othering’ and name-calling.
Let’s get away from that:
it is entirely possible to hold different viewpoints and have a civilised discussion,
and even learn from each other.
There can be courtesy, listening, respect, even if you still strongly disagree at the end.
‘Help me understand why you think this...
talk me through it so I can see where you’re coming from,’ is always a good approach.

Wherever we may find ourselves –
in life,
on the political spectrum,
when faced with those who for whatever reason wish us harm –
what is our response to conflict of all kinds as followers of Jesus?
First, we look to scripture, and what we see in our reading from Matthew
is Jesus, the Word of life,
using words of love.
Words that rehumanise.
He calls upon us to not only love our neighbour,
but to ‘love our enemies’.
He calls upon us to pray for those who persecute us.
To actively attempt to love our enemies,
to do the work of praying for them...
involves imagination:
it is the work of seeing the person.
Trying to move past the fear,
to move past the hatred,
to move beyond bitterness,
and begin to imagine who they are,
what their motivations are,
their background, their families.
To see beyond the label,
even if what someone has done is horrific, is ‘beastly’ even, to see that they are human.
Sometimes, that’s a harder thing to work through than making monsters of them.
If this is indeed a human being, what was it that caused them to do
whatever it is they may have done?
‘Othering’ is almost too easy:
accepting that someone is human and has done awful things is hard and sobering work.
It makes us ask hard questions of ourselves:
if the same circumstances were to arise... might we, too, be capable of terrible things?
So:
Love.
Pray.
Break down the wall...
see the person.
To love is the hardest thing we do –
it is both a beautiful and terrible thing,
powerful and vulnerable.
There is nothing at all wishy-washy about love.

In calling us to love,
in calling us to pray,
Jesus asks us to break damaging and recurring patterns of human behaviour.
It is the work of peace-making, peace-building,
for God’s kingdom is one that is harmonious –
the peaceful, peaceable kingdom.
But how do we do this hard task of loving and of praying for those
who we may find it difficult to see as fellow human beings?
Again, we turn to God’s word.
Relying on our strength alone, it’s almost impossible.
And so the writer to those in the church in Ephesus effectively says:
‘no, no, beloved, not in your strength, do this relying on God’s strength.
Wear spiritual armour, for loving is hard and can feel like a great battle.
In God’s power, you will find that you can stand firm, and do this task of loving 
that you’ve been called to.’

As we remember today, all those who have fought in wars,
those who are currently fighting,
and all those who have been caught up in conflict over this last century...
may we put on love as our armour,
may we commit to breaking the cycle of conflict –
may love help us truly see each other:
as human,
as fragile,
as precious in God’s sight;
and may the power of God’s love, lived within our lives,
finally see an end to war,
where all can live in peace with one another,
and in doing,
not wither and perish, but rather,
where all may blossom and flourish. Amen.

Evening worship: simple Communion with music and reflection

After the busyness of Remembrance Sunday morning and afternoon, 

join us at Holy Trinity Chapel, Lamington, 

for a simplified Communion 

accompanied by music from the Taize Community.

A space to be still and listen for God's voice in the quietness.

Acts of Remembrance around the parish 10 Nov.

LEST WE FORGET...

Sun 10 Nov.:
A list of Acts of Remembrance
happening around the parish

And on Mon. 11 Nov.:
Leadhills Primary School meets at the Memorial
just before 11am ...
for an Act of Remembrance

News, events, info. for wk beg. 3 Nov

Thurs 7 Nov., 7pm: Kirk Session meets in the Church Hall.

Sun 10 Nov, 6.30pm: Evening worship:
Music and Meditation Communion service at Holy Trinity Chapel, Lamington
--------------------------------------------------
REMEMBRANCE SUNDAY SERVICES:
Sun 10 Nov, 10.30am, Morning Worship
12.30pm: Leadhills - Act of Remembrance at Village Memorial
1.30pm: Crawford - Act of Remembrance at the Village Memorial
--------------------------------------------------
Centenary Poppies Project: 
The Centenary poppies are now available for purchase via donation
[min. £1] All monies raised will be given to both Help for Heroes and Poppy Scotland.
They can be found in the vestibule.

Minister’s time off this week: Wednesday

Moderator’s visit to Upper Clyde Parish: 
a very big thanks to all who were able to come along to parts of the Moderator’s flying visit around the parish. Special thanks for those who turned out at the church - who helped set up, serve, and clear away. The Moderator, Colin Sinclair, and his wife, Ruth, enjoyed their visit with us. An unexpected reunion occurred between Ruth Sinclair and Cathie Craig – who’d last seen each other many years before in Uganda, where Ruth’s father worked as a doctor. Small world indeed!

Food for the journey: spiritual nourishment for the rest of the week...
This week turn the words from Revelation into a mini-prayer: “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honour and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” Use it before meals, as you waken and go to sleep, as you hear news, as you meet people and say good-bye. It can become a small blessing, awareness of God in everything even the tarnished and grey.

Sun worship Nov 3: Welcome and water, worship and wonder, and even 'wow'

This morning we welcomed wee Gregor into God's family through
the Sacrament of Baptism.

We also did a little 'upside-down Aussie' magic - with thanks to Jake for being a most excellent volunteer ...
thinking about faith and trust, and using a glass of water, we wondered if there might be a way to keep from having an accidental extra baptism if we turned the 3/4 full glass of water upside down over Jake's head...
The Minister was rather relieved that her practice at home had paid off, although it was handy that Jake had his waterproofs and hood on 'just in case'.
Many gratifying 'oooohs' from the congregation when the trick worked.


Our readings this morning were from Ps 33 and Revelation 4:1-11, picking up the theme of God's worthiness to be praised.

We thought about the glimpse of heaven offered through the open door of John's vision, how impossible it was to describe the impossible, and, with a wee nod to the Wizard of Oz, reflected on Dorothy's comment that 'there's no place like [our heavenly home]', of God's faithfulness, of those who've gone before us in the faith, and of our own faith journey leading us to that open door where we are welcomed in...

A busy, full, and fun service, and a big 'thank you' to the many small helpers throughout!

News, events, wk beg Mon 28 Oct

Thurs 31 Oct.: Moderator’s visit to Upper Clyde Parish.
The Rev. Colin Sinclair will be visiting Lanark Presbytery during the week.
As part of his time in the Presbytery, he will pay a quick visit to Upper Clyde
and make a circumnavigation of the parish.
While visiting, among other stops on the way, he will attend a school assembly in Leadhills -
Scotland’s highest Primary school, as well as pay a visit to the church in Abington.
You are invited to come and meet with the Moderator at the church over a cuppa
at approx. 2.15pm - a great chance to talk with him about the challenges and opportunities of rural life.

Sun 3 Nov., 10.30am, Morning worship, at the parish church in Abington: 
We are delighted to be welcoming Gregor Wallace Drife into God’s family
through the Sacrament of Baptism
and at 1.45, at Douglas Valley Church in Douglas,
there will be a special service with the Moderator recognising the transition of the Parish into Guardianship.
All are welcome to attend this Presbytery service.

Centenary Poppies Project: 
The Centenary poppies are now available for purchase via donation [min. £1]
All monies raised will be given to both Help for Heroes and Poppy Scotland.
They can be found in the vestibule.

Minister’s time off this week: Tuesday

Food for the journey: spiritual nourishment for the rest of the week...

In the last of the letters in the Book of Revelation 3:20 Jesus knocks on a door, saying:
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. 
If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, 
I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.
Over the week, write down some of your favourite bible verses, or words
from scripture that are important to you or have helped you.
Simply attach them to a door as a reminder of what you have let into your life
and how it brings you life.

Sunday worship: 'Who's that knockin' at the door?'

As it's a 4th Sunday of the month, there were two services of worship today:
10.30am at the parish church in Abington where we picked up a little on the letters to the churches in Revelation, and thought about the one who stands at the door and knocks...
and 6.30pm at Leadhills Village Hall, where we were thinking about Margaret of Scotland in our series on 'heroes of the faith' and we also did a little reflecting on 'All Saints' and Halloween.

During our worship this morning, it was a delight
to welcome Dee Yates to the eldership and to become a part of our Kirk Session. A very cheery celebration over morning tea involved cake and copious scones...!

Readings for this morning:
Rev 3:1-22 and Colossians 1:15-23

Sermon: ‘Who’s that knocking on the door?’ 
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.

In the midst of a green, growing forest, in a small clearing, stood a cottage.
There were wooden shingles on the roof, and the walls had been made of logs –
those that had been knocked down to create the clearing originally.
It was not a ramshackle affair –
rather, there were signs that it had been relatively well cared for.
The clearing itself seemed orderly and there was a well-tended veggie patch just by the water tank.

The cottage was a good way off the beaten track –
so far off, that it was almost a little too easy to get lost if you didn’t keep a close eye out
for the occasional marker on a tree or river bend.
Apart from the noises of the bush –
the scuttling of smaller beasts in the undergrowth,
the occasional crashing of the bigger beasts through the trees,
the song of birds and chirrup of insects,
it was a quiet, almost forgotten place.
Very few ever journeyed to the cottage:
it was a tricky, dangerous business with twists and turns,
and sudden drops where the land fell away into steep water-carved gorges.
A visitor needed to have their wits about them to get there and back in one piece.

The three who lived in the cottage had been sent there many years before by their Master,
there, they were asked to remain, and keep a watch upon the cottage and surrounds until he returned.
Each was very different to the other, but what bound them together was their Master,
and his request and, over time, the bonds of friendship
to each other as they lived and worked alongside one another.
Over the years, together and individually, each worked away at their task...
and each interpreted the instructions of the Master a little differently.
Manny decided that what his Master meant by 'watch' was try not to fall asleep –
to stay awake the whole time the Master was away...
sometimes, though, he did fall asleep due to tiredness.
Each time he woke from sleep, he felt a little more discouraged.
He began to wonder if the Master was ever coming back.
It seemed a long time, this waiting.

Maurie decided that he could do the job if he kept the place tidy:
he’d sweep and dust inside the cottage,
and clear away any creeping undergrowth that was making its way
too closely to the perimeter of the cottage.
It was wearying work;
it took most of his strength, but, nevertheless, he remained faithful to the task.
Sometimes, though, he was so absorbed in looking for the slightest speck of dust,
or signs of weed encroachment,
that he’d forget to look beyond the perimeter to keep an eye out for his Master’s return.

Millie could never quite make her mind up what the task actually was –
how active or passive it was.
Some days, she’d do nothing.
Other days, she’d have a sudden burst of energy.
Often, she’d think of what lay beyond the cottage and its bounds...
until, curious, she began to wander off to see what she might find.
Over time, she would ranger further and further from the cottage, searching for treasures in the bush.
Some days, she’d come home,
carrying a great load of bananas over her back,
or beautifully patterned wood,
or flasks of the purest tasting water in the world...
and, while she’d share with Manny and Maurie,
it always seemed she kept the lion’s share for herself...
Often, looking for treasure replaced keeping watch for her Master.

It had been many a year since the Master had placed them at the cottage.
Sometimes, they would struggle to remember
what the Master was like:
how his voice sounded,
what he looked like.
They knew there was a reason why they had been put there by the Master,
but sometimes, it was hard to remember.
Over the long years, the few visitors who would come to see them gradually stopped.
The door of the cottage remained quiet...
until one day, there came the sound of a gentle knock on wood.
Manny, Maurie, and Millie, busy eating their dinner stopped dead and looked at one another.
‘Who’s that knocking on the door?’ they all wondered.
They sat, looking at one another, not quite knowing what to do.
The knock came again, a little more loudly.
Still they looked at each other.
Another knock, more insistent.
Coming to from their surprise, Manny went to the door...
‘Who’s that knocking on the door?’
And from the other side came the reply:
‘A friend.’
A puzzled silence from inside the cottage and then:
‘But, well... we don’t really have any friends.’
‘Open the door, and you’ll see one,’ came the voice from outside.

The three inside the cottage looked at one another:
this was rather disconcerting.
What to do?
Another gentle tap at the door.
‘Hello?’
From inside, there were mutters...
and then the sound of the door latch slowly, ever so slowly being pulled.
The door opened, ever so slightly –
just enough for an inquisitive eyeball to look out at the visitor.
The eyeball looked up and then travelled down
the whole length of the person waiting patiently outside.
‘Bear with me,’ came the voice that belonged to the eyeball’s owner.
The door shut once more.
Manny – the owner of the eyeball – walked back to the table.
‘Doesn’t look familiar. Looks a wee bit unkempt, truth be told. 
Clothes are all raggedy and torn. Tho’ I don’t know if my eye was playing tricks, 
but I thought I caught a glint of gold underneath the coat.’
Millie twitched a little at the word 'gold'.
Maurie sighed.
‘I wonder what the Master would do?’
Another knock on the door and the visitor calling out:
‘Can I come in, please? It’s a teeny bit chilly out here now that it’s getting dark.’
From inside the cottage, the sound of a chair being pulled back, and then,
footsteps could be heard... padding across to the door.
‘Who’s that knocking on the door?’ 
This time, it was Maurie by the door.
And from the other side came the patient reply:
‘A friend. May I come in?’
From inside, there was the sound of a hand on the latch, a brief pause, and then...

Well, ...
how does the story end?
Who is this strange visitor?
Is he, indeed, a friend?
There’s only one way to find out –
the door that has been knocked on needs to be opened for all to be revealed.

In our reading from Revelation, we hear of letters to the other three churches –
Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea.
Again, as with the four letters from last week, these are meant as letters of encouragement;
and part of that is also noting where each could improve where needed.
All however, are known and loved by God –
watched over and cared for...
given a task to watch and prepare for the coming of God’s kingdom of heaven on earth.
Each, working out how that might be done,
each, doing some things wonderfully,
each, making the occasional mistake.
Each congregation trying to work out just how to follow Jesus, the Master, on the journey of faith.
Occasionally, there have been obstacles, or distractions, even falling asleep on the watch,
but in each case, while sometimes it’s not gone well,
it’s not all been bad either –
and in each letter, Jesus shows the different congregations a way forward in the faith,
and, encourages them to continue:
‘go on, I know you can do it,’  he almost seems to say.
But they can’t ‘go on’ without him –
they can’t make the journey of faith without Jesus.
And so, we have, as we hear the letter to Laodicea, an image of a door
and Jesus knocking on the door saying:
‘Here I am! I stand at the door and knock!
If anyone hears my voice
and opens the door, 
I will go in and eat with them,
and they with me.’
Will the Laodiceans open the door and let Jesus in?
But who is this Jesus?
Who is it that knocks on the door of the church at Laodicea,
or, for that matter, the church here at Upper Clyde,
or even, at the door of each one of our hearts?

We get a glimpse in our reading from Colossians:
he is the image of the invisible God –
to see Jesus, is to look upon the face of God.
We are shown the might and power of the One who is God become human –
who used his power to become one of us...
underneath the rags of his humanity,
you see the gold of his divinity and majesty.
He is the one who spoke the world into being with the Father;
the One who holds all things together;
the One who is Head of the body –
the body that is us...
his followers,
the church.
He is the great reconciler,
the life-giver who gave himself for us;
the peace-maker who breaks down the divisions between God and humanity...
restoring us,
healing us,
making us whole;
he is the One who is seated in glory and majesty at God’s right hand,
and the One who calls us his friends...
the One who stands at the door
and knocks at the door of each one of our hearts and says:
‘Here I am!’
Only ever wanting to be let into our lives –
to show us how to live fully,
and in that living,
to point the way to him for others.
The journey of faith is different for each one of us
but, every day,
Jesus stands at the door and knocks.
And every day, we make the choice:
do we keep the door closed,
or do we open the door
and let him into our lives...
and, in doing so,
be part of his body on earth, bringing in his kingdom?
Amen.

News and events: wk beg Mon 21 Oct

News and upcoming events:

Sun 27 Oct., 10.30am: Morning worship in Upper Clyde Church. During our time of worship, we will be ordaining Dee Yates to the Eldership, and welcoming her onto the Kirk Session of Upper Clyde Parish.
And, at 6.30pm: Evening worship will be held in Leadhills Village Hall. We'll be reflecting on the life of Margaret of Scotland, a champion of the faith. Join us for this shorter, more informal time of worship. Refreshments served after the service and all are welcome
Today is also the...
DEADLINE for our Parish Magazine. Don't miss the deadline for any articles for the upcoming Advent/Christmas edition of  our magazine. If you have anything to submit, Dee or Nikki would be pleased to hear from you.

Thurs 31 Oct.: Moderator’s visit to Upper Clyde Parish. The Rt Rev. Colin Sinclair will be visiting Lanark Presbytery during the week. As part of his time in the Presbytery, he will pay a quick visit to Upper Clyde and be shown around the parish. During this time he will attend a school assembly in Leadhills, Scotland’s highest Primary school, as well as pay a visit to the church in Abington. You are invited to come and meet the Moderator at the church over a cuppa at approx. 2.30pm and share your stories about the opportunities and challenges within a rural parish.

Sun 2 Nov., 10.30am: morning worship in Upper Clyde Church. During worship this morning
we'll be welcoming Gregor Drife into God's family through the Sacrament of Baptism.

HARVEST THANKSGIVING SERVICE: Huge thanks to everyone who helped with our Harvest Thanksgiving service last week: to those involved in decorating the church with flowers and bees and all manner of Harvest-related items; to those who brought along items for the Foodbank; to our team of folk who prepared and cleared away our Harvest lunch; for those who helped to dismantle the decorations, and deliver the Foodbank items; and all who donated to the work of Send a Cow...
What a fabulous congregational effort and a great way to give thanks to God for the Harvest, and for his faithfulness. Well done, everyone. There are some pictures up on the blog in last week's worship entry.

Centenary Poppies Project: The Centenary poppies are now available for purchase via donation [min. £1] All monies raised will be given to both Help for Heroes and Poppy Scotland. They can be found in the vestibule.

Minister’s time off this week: Nikki is nabbing two days off this week, on Tuesday and Wednesday

Sunday am worship - 'A letter to my friends'

Over the next couple of weeks, we'll be hearing what the Spirit says to the churches, in the Book of Revelation...

READINGS: 1 John 4:1-6 and Rev. 2:1-29

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.

Some of you may be familiar with an old song from 1963 which takes the form of a letter
written by a son away at summer camp to his long-suffering parents.
It goes a little like this – and put your hand up if you’ve heard it before...
Hello Muddah, hello Faddah
Here I am at Camp Grenada
Camp is very entertaining
And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.

The letter goes along, reeling off a string of incidents and difficulties ranging from
a hiking trip where a friend gets into a fankle with some poison ivy,
through to another boy who ends up with food poisoning.
The lake – allegedly – has alligators,
a cabin mate has malaria,
another lad has gone missing and a search party has been sent off.
Disaster after disaster unfolds in the letter.
Having written a great litany of woe, the young letter writer pleads in another verse:
Take me home, oh Muddah, Faddah
Take me home, I hate Grenada
Don't leave me out in the forest where
I might get eaten by a bear.

All of these events, we discover, have happened over the course of ...
one whole day:
the overall message of the letter is one of misery and woe, discouragement and despair –
the boy... just really, really, really wants to come home.

But suddenly, in the very last verse, there’s a complete change around:
Wait a minute, it's stopped hailing
Guys are swimming, guys are sailing
Playing baseball, gee that's bettah
Muddah, Faddah kindly disregard this letter.
By the end of the letter, all is well and one can only hope the parents
are breathing a sigh of relief and feeling encouraged that the laddie
will probably manage the whole week away after all.

Letters come in many forms, and are written for a variety of reasons:
from ancient Babylonian shopping lists in cunieform on clay tablets –
‘please tell Akkad to send me a bottle of his fine, red wine, and a jar of his fattest olives’,
to messages of congratulations, or sympathy, letters written while on holidays –
hopefully happier than those taken at Camp Granada –
or letters applying for a job, or school...
Formal letters, letters to family and friends.
Of letters to family, my dad showed me a letter I’d written to him when I was 9
about to turn 10, that he’d kept. A birthday was on its way,
and the letter’s purpose was very clear –
alongside lots of pretty doodles of someone playing tennis,
presumably me, were the words:
‘I’d really, really like a tennis racquet’ 
the letter ended in many x’s for kisses and a few o’s for hugs, thrown in for good measure.
I hope I’m a little less mercenary these days.

In the New Testament, alongside the four Gospels, we’ve many letters:
a lot written by the Apostle Paul, some by Peter, some by John,
and, in the very last book of the Bible, near to the beginning of John’s vision in Revelation,
there are seven letters written to seven churches...
as opposed to seven brides for seven brothers -
that’s a whole different thing entirely.
This morning and next Sunday, we’re going to have a quick look at these letters.
Today, we heard the letters written to the first four of the churches:
the churches in Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, and Thyatira.
if you were to try and find them on a map, they’d be located in what’s now modern Turkey.

John, the writer of these letters, might possibly be the Apostle John.
What we know is that this John lives in exile on the Isle of Patmos,
that he’s a prophet,
that he’s got a good working knowledge of the wider church scene,
that he’s an important enough person to have had his words preserved
and placed within the canon of scripture.
He writes this in the latter part of the 1st Century,
and while the Book of Revelation can come across as quite strange in the language it uses,
the primary purpose of the Book, and each of these seven letters,
is to act as an encouragement to these new, fledgling churches,
living in a time of change,
living in challenging times.
Right at the beginning of Revelation, John writes:
‘Blessed is the one who reads aloud 
the words of this prophecy, 
and blessed are those who hear it 
and take to heart what is written in it, 
because the time is near.’
The Book, and these letters, are meant to serve as a blessing.

As is the case with most letters there’s a structure.
Each letter is addressed to the ‘angel’ of that particular church,
and then each has a brief note of who is writing:
Jesus, variously described as -
‘the one who holds the seven stars in his right hand’;
‘the First and the Last’;
‘the one who ‘has the sharp, double-edged sword’;
and ‘the Son of God, whose eyes are like blazing fire...’
Each moves on to demonstrate that God has been with them,
has been watching over them – for each letter says
‘I know...’
followed by a comment on the different things that each of the churches
has done, or has been facing.
In Ephesus,
God offers encouragement by assuring them that
He knows their deeds, and their hard work.
In Smyrna,
God offers encouragement by assuring them that
He knows of their poverty and their afflictions – yet even so, they are rich:
a reference to the strength of their faith.
To those in Pergamum,
God reassures them, by acknowledging that
where they live is a place that is particularly challenging,
and that he is impressed that despite the difficulties, they remain true.
And, in Thyatira,
God encourages them by assuring them that
He knows of their deeds, of their love and faith, and of their service –
and that since the beginning of their faith journey, this has been increasing:
they haven’t stood still.

So, each of the churches are shown that God knows
their individual circumstances and challenges,
that God is pleased with their efforts –
that God commends them for what they’ve been doing...
letters of encouragement, as I said.
As each letter moves on, there’s a pause to take stock on where they might improve.
And then, the letters end with encouragement once more:
they are known by God,
they are loved by God,
that God stands with them in the struggle,
and that, in the end, with God on their side they will overcome the difficulties and challenges.
Overall, then, the format in brief is a little like this:
Dear church –
it’s me, Jesus,
I know you’re amazing:
you’ve been doing some great things
and I’m so proud of you.
I did notice one thing and it would be great 
if you worked on that a little more...
however, we’re in this together,
so hang in there with me,
and you’ll get through to the end,
I believe in you and know you can do it.
Lots of love...

I wonder...
if on any given Sunday that we were gathered here, what might happen
if a letter suddenly materialised through the rafters –
a lost letter from John, writing the message that Jesus has for us, his church at Upper Clyde?
Like the four churches that we’ve had the quickest of looks at,
we have our particular circumstances and our particular challenges.
Like the four churches – like any church, anywhere,
we have a strong hunch about what we don’t have, and what we can’t do...
our failings, if you like.
It’s often too easy to concentrate on those, right?
But think again of how the letters to the churches in Revelation are structured:
there’s balance, and an aim to encourage.
Jesus, through the quill in John’s hand, says to his churches:
‘I know who you are,
I know what you have,
I know what you can do.’
Each letter is aimed to build up the church.
So I wonder about Upper Clyde, about this particular community of faith...
might a letter to us sound a little like this:
[open envelope, read from letter enclosed]
Dear Upper Clyde,
these are the words of the Good Shepherd, who tends you and cares for you;
I know you could use a little encouragement.
I know your deeds, your faith, your quiet acts of kindness, your sense of community spirit
and how you try to look out for each other, and your neighbours
despite being so scattered over such a large area.
In the face of challenges, 
such as the drift away from the faith
and the building feeling a little emptier than it used to years ago,
nevertheless, you pitch in as you can, together,
feeding the hungry, fundraising for charity,
having celebrations and socials,
popping in on those who are ill and who are isolated.
Although you may not realise it, you are living out the message of the Gospel.
There is the matter of trying to look for different ways 
to touch the hearts of all within your wider community –
it’s good to respect tradition and remember what’s gone before,
but don’t be afraid to try and embrace the new 
and look to the present and the future – they can be good as well.
I know that change can be hard, but I also know that you have already weathered many changes
and that you are more resilient than you think you are.
I also know that sometimes you focus too much on what you lack 
but you are richer than you think.
While times might feel challenging I know you can rise to the challenge:
I know you can do this, so, don’t lose heart,
keep listening out for me, and keep going –
you may surprise yourselves at just what you can do, and of all that you do have.
Remember, you’re not alone,
I’m with you, your Shepherd, leading you to new pastures
where there will be refreshing streams for your souls.
Sent with love...

And what of our own, individual lives of faith?
I wonder if each one of us received a wee note – what might it have to say to us?
What words of encouragement might there be for each one of us?
How might Jesus be encouraging you?
What are those gifts, skills, things about you that Jesus thinks are good –
because there will be something:
we each of us have something for each of us is the product of a creative, imaginative God.
Imagine, over this week - this is your homework -
a letter in which Jesus is saying encouraging things about you:
what are they?
Name them.
It’s easier naming the not so good things about ourselves –
we can spend a lot of time doing that, so, in the interests of balance, don’t do that this week!
Instead, think about what Jesus, the Shepherd of your soul,
think about you – all the positive things.

There’s much in our letters to the churches in the Book of Revelation –
and at the end, each one closes with a positive affirmation:
you can overcome the challenges –
and, as in the words from our other reading this morning, in 1 John 4: 4 we overcome because
‘the One who is in us is greater than the one who is in the world.’
Beloved of God, how then do we live our lives?
Like the words of the hymn say:
Look forward in faith, 
God gives us life each day. 
Go onward with Christ, 
His Spirit guides our way. 
Now God lets us live 
Within the sphere of grace. 
Trust ever in him, 
He rules o’er earth and space.
Amen.

[we then sang 'Look forward in faith']

Harvest Sunday - morning worship

As folk walked into worship this morning, they had to contend with swarms of bees...
Fabulously crafted by the children of the 5 Primary schools in our parish. Massive thanks to the staff and students of Leadhills, Crawford, Abington, Lamington, and Wiston schools for such creative, beautiful and fabulous Harvest decorations.
But why bees?
During the week at our Harvest assemblies we'd been thinking about how important bees are, why they're disappearing, how we can be more bee-friendly... and thinking about the work of the Send a Cow charity, who not only wrangle cattle...
We had fun 'harvesting' words from the word 'harvest' and among other words, discovered the words 'starve' and 'share'.
We wondered about harvest time as useful time of year to remember to be thankful for all we have - not to take things for granted, and about sharing with others who might not have as much as we do.
Some of our schools also brought along food for our local foodbank - so some very thoughtful discussions and actions this week in our schools.

Alongside the fabulous bees, the church was stunningly decorated by our crack team of brilliant volunteers on Saturday afternoon.
of The windows were filled to bursting with flowers and produce, as was the Sanctuary space.
And after worship, we had a simple Harvest lunch ...
so a massive thank you to everyone who helped organise our special Harvest Festival day.
Also, a very good number of food donations for the local foodbank arrived.
What a brilliant group effort.

As to our Harvest service this morning, these were our readings:
Ps 100; Deut 26:1-11; Phil. 4:4-9

There were a couple of reflections...
‘A flavour of harvest’ - featuring Bertie Bott's all-flavour beans...
and
'Send a Cow... or maybe a bee' - a wee recap on the work of one of our favourite charities

The sermon this morning was a story about a young monk called Thomas...
SERMON/ ‘Surprising gifts’
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.

Once upon a time, many hundreds of years ago –
even before I was born...
there lived a young man called Thomas.
Thomas had grown up on a farm, with 9 brothers and 2 sisters.
While there was always plenty of work to do on the farm,
and while he loved helping out, Thomas realised, at a young age,
that he wanted to join a religious order:
he wanted to become a monk.
The family were very pleased, although pretty surprised,
because young Thom didn’t seem to be a very serious-minded kind of chap – he was full of the joys of life:
always getting into silly scrapes,
always telling terrible jokes at dinner,
and always managing to make his family laugh.
Wherever he went, whatever he did, he’d sing.

The more Thomas’ parents thought about him going to a monastery, the more they thought it would be a good thing:
perhaps he’d settle down a little?
They knew he would learn to read,
and they knew he would pray for them...
and, truth be told, with such a big family, well, it was one less mouth to feed.

On the day young Thomas set off to go to the monastery in the town a good day and half's’ walk away,
the family packed a sack of food for his journey,
gave him an extra sack of grain as a gift for the monastery,
gave him many hugs and kisses,
and then waved him on his way.
Thomas was excited and cheerful.
As he walked, he felt the warmth of the sun on his head,
he heard the songs of birds in the trees and high up in the sky,
he thirstily drank from the cool, clear stream that followed the road to town,
his eyes danced with all the spring colours of the countryside around him...
and he thought of a whole bunch of new jokes he could share with the monks.
As he walked he was full of joy and gave thanks to God.
The miles seemed to disappear very quickly
and having slept under a sky full of shining stars,
he arrived at the town the following afternoon,
introduced himself,
and was let into the monastery.

The Abbot welcomed him
and Thomas was put to work here and there,
doing all sorts of odd jobs.
He’d sweep and clear the stables;
he’d help do the monastery washing;
he’d chop wood for the kitchen fire;
and cheerfully do the dishes.
And as he worked, so he would sing –
a happy, cheerful song of thanks to God.
When working alongside other monks he’d tell them jokes,
and there’d be shared laughter, and the work went faster.
Thomas felt that he was in the right place.

One day, taking a wee break,
Thomas was sitting on a bench by the monastery kitchen garden.
Some of the children from the town had become friendly with Thomas,
and they'd come to the monastery to see him.
They sat in the sunshine singing a song that Thomas had taught them.
When the song was done,
Thomas told them some new jokes, and the air filled with laughter.

The Abbot had stopped, unseen by them,
and he watched from a wee distance, then nodded to himself.
But it was time for Thomas to get back to work,
and so the Abbot came across and sent the children away home with a blessing.
He asked how young Thom was getting on
and Thomas told him how happy he was.
All was well.
The Abbot left him to his work.

The months passed, as did both spring and then summer.
Autumn had arrived, and with it,
talk of the great Harvest Thanksgiving festival at which,
each of the monks would give thanks to God and offer a gift.
Brother Francis trained pigeons to carry messages, so he would offer a set of fine pigeons;
Brother Jerome looked after the garden:
he would offer a basket of his prize-winning leeks;
Brother John was a baker – he would bake bread for the feast;
Brother Peter was a calligrapher in the scriptorium:
he planned to give a decorated page with Ps 100 written on it in his beautiful handwriting –
‘God’s word says to rejoice, and so my hands rejoice to write God’s word’ said Peter.
All of the monks had wonderful gifts to give.
Thomas, however, had no clue at all what to give.
He felt he had no particular gift that he could offer.
While all the other monks became more excited,
as the days drew nearer to the feast, Brother Thomas grew sad, very sad indeed.
As the days passed, he grew quieter.
There were no more jokes, and he did his tasks in silence, not with song.

At last the great day arrived...
and young Brother Thomas was thoroughly miserable.
All the others had wonderful gifts to offer to God:
he had nothing.
The service began and all the monks joyfully lined up to process into the huge church,
each bearing the gift they were to offer to God.
All except Brother Thomas, who, as the youngest and newest monk, would be first.
He walked in, with empty hands, and tearful face
until he reached the stairs to the communion table, where the Abbot stood waiting.
A hush filled the crowded church,
as everyone realised that Thom had nothing to offer.
‘Thomas, what is the gift you offer to God?’ asked the Abbot kindly...
‘Sir, I have no gifts at all, and I am so very sad – 
for God has given us so much, God has watered the crops 
and by his goodness, we have food for the feast.
...I am not worthy to be a monk.'
The Abbot looked at tearful Thomas and with a smile said:
‘Thomas, each of the brothers offer something to God that is special to them –
a God-given gift that only they have.
...Thomas, ever since you’ve been with us, you have given us the gift of laughter 
and lightened the burden of our work with your jokes and stories...
you have given us the gift of music
and lightened our hearts with your songs of rejoicing.
That is what you can offer to God.’

Thomas looked at the Abbot, puzzled, and then hope crept into his heart.
He nodded and a shy smile appeared on his face.
‘Lord, I offer you my sense of humour, and these silly, silly jokes...
accept them with my love.’
And then he turned to the congregation with a grin:
‘I am from a farm, so I give you these –
you may groan, or you may laugh, but take them and enjoy:
Why did the cow cross the road? 
...To get to the udder side! 
Why did the rooster cross the road? 
...To prove it wasn't chicken! 
Why did the horse cross the road? 
...To visit his neighbourhood! 
Why did the farmer cross the road? 
...To get all of his animals back!’
The congregation groaned, very loudly indeed,
and then, laughter began rippling through the building –
it was silly, simple fun –
God-given fun...
And, if God had made the world then surely, God must have made laughter.
And as they all laughed, Thomas began to sing a simple song of praise:
‘Rejoice in the Lord, always, and again I say rejoice...’
and as he sang, other voices joined in the song –
it was the song he had taught the children,
and their wee high voices could be heard in the laughter...
and the monks began singing –
for it was one of the songs that Thomas would sing as he did chores with them...
and as it was a simple song, so the whole congregation joined in the song of rejoicing.
And so it was, on that day, the day of the great Harvest Thanksgiving,
in the midst of laughter and joy-filled singing,
Thomas learned the greatest lesson of all:
that each one of us is worthy in God’s eyes;
that each one of us is special;
that each one of us has particular gifts and skills;
and that each one of us has something to offer:
to God
and to our neighbour...
And that, friends, is definitely something to give thanks for. Amen.