Sermon 31 March: 'We are family'

We continue with our series exploring the four 'loves' of the New Testament.
This week, it's familial love - love of, and for, family [Gk. 'storge']
Prayers wove Mothering Sunday themes throughout,
while our readings reflected a fatherly love...
The sermon itself was split into three mini-reflections today.

1st READING: John 4:46-54

REFLECTION/ The father
The miles dragged.
Heat, dust, stones –
pebbles that caused him to stop,
take off his shoes,
shake them,
then try and put them on
his swollen feet once more.
The wind seemed to whisper –
telling stories of miracles
and God knew, he was in need of one.
He’d overheard the chatter of servants,
felt the ruffled feathers of the religious elite
as they spat his name out in conversation;
knew the king and court officials
were watching and wondering
if there was cause to worry.
But he was desperate,
and any hint of disapproval
or social embarrassment
in seeking out a subversive rabbi
was nothing...
if that rabbi could heal
his beautiful boy.
Each mile told a story:
looking into his wife’s eyes with wonder
as she held their new-born son;
watching with pride as his sturdy wee boy
took his first steps, fell down, and laughed,
not cried.
A strong one,
a fighter.
Fiery and funny,
blood of his blood
and mother’s joy.
They adored him.
Loved his curiosity,
saw the good in him,
washed an occasional scraped knee,
wondered about the man
he would one day become.
So much hope,
so many possibilities,
such potential.
But the hope turned to fear;
the possibilities took on a sinister turn,
and potential was fast becoming
like the taste of ashes.
As the miles drew on,
he saw a ruddy, healthy boy change;
grow pale,
waste away.
He’d called upon every physician,
and they came –
prodding and poking the boy
like a piece of meat,
tut-tutting and shaking their heads,
and offering no constructive advice
or practical solution.
One of the more kindly physicians
had gently tried to prepare him
and his wife for the worst.
The boy slept fitfully,
whimpering occasionally.
He and his wife watched and waited.
And wept.
Until news had come that the strange rabbi
was in the area once more –
across in Cana.
He remembered the stories of a wedding
and wine that seemed to flow forever.
He remembered other stories as well –
of those who were sick
being made well.
A last, desperate chance then.
He set off in the early hours of the morning,
the desperation propelling him along
the twenty miles from Capernaum,
a tiny flicker of hope,
not yet put out...

2nd READING: Romans 12:9-21

REFLECTION/ The followers
He’d lost track of the miles.
A man on a mission,
he’d been walking, for over twenty years now –
ever since he’d stopped persecuting the followers
of the man he’d once thought of
as a heretic and blasphemer.
He’d been wrong.
And, while travelling on the Damascus road
to arrest the followers of the radical rabbi,
he’d been struck blind by a bright light,
found himself on all fours,
on the ground,
heard a voice from heaven call his name –
Jesus.
He’d followed that voice ever since,
and in the years of following,
he’d travelled over dusty roads
shucking pebbles from his shoes
countless times.
He never minded.
Once a persecutor, he in turn had faced
his share of troubles for following the rabbi.
Somehow, he always managed to find a way
out of trouble –
God’s grace.
God watching over him,
protecting him
as a father to a son.
Over the miles,
so many stories gathered:
so many men and women,
boys and girls,
all told about Jesus –
so many added to the growing band of followers.
There were growing pains,
but so often, he was pleased with them:
like a proud father...
he’d seen them take their first steps in the faith,
heard through letters
of the good they were doing
in the communities where they lived.
His travels had taken him to Corinth,
to spend time with his brothers
and sisters in the faith –
his spiritual family.
Like any family, there were fallings out,
and he’d found his niche as a mediator
and community builder –
reconciling the family of followers in the
only way he knew:
showing the way of love.
And while he knew he wasn’t perfect,
while he knew that he, too, was perfectly
capable of falling out with brothers and sisters,
he also knew the wideness
of God’s mercy and love,
which helped him keep putting
one foot in front of the other
and following in faith.
And now, even while he was about to
head back cross to Jerusalem,
he was planning his next big trip:
a journey to Spain to share the message of Jesus.
Wanted to be the first to tell them the story
of the man he’d only met after Jesus had
died and risen and gone to glory.
The trip meant a chance to travel to Rome
and to spend time in the company of old and new members of this gathered family.
Time to write a letter.
Time to prepare the way
by cooking up a recipe for living in community.
He’d write them a shopping list of ingredients
which, when mixed together,
would create a feast:
a love feast to show how a family should
live together...
would show not only the kingdom of heaven
but the kin-dom of heaven.
Straightening the parchment,
taking the quill in hand,
he began:
‘Let love be real...’
He sprinkled in a little humility,
added some patience and prayer,
seasoned it with joy,
and tossed in a little spice –
flavouring it with forgiveness
and a great dollop of goodness.
Yes, that’d do nicely –
a recipe for love indeed.

REFLECTION/ 'It's fam'ly, innit'
An ongoing joke about the soap, ‘Eastenders’
is the fairly dire behaviour most folk indulge in on Albert Square –
and in among all the horrible words and actions,
when something really kicks off between neighbours,
you’re nearly always bound to hear the phrase often in Barbara Windsor's accent:
‘It’s about fam’ly, innit?’
Well, our readings today are indeed about family – ‘storge’ -
the word used to indicate the love of and for family.
We’ve got two types of family on display:
blood kin, and spiritual kin.
Let’s think about the first for a moment ...

In our gospel passage, you can almost smell
the sweat of the father’s exertion as he travels from Capernaum
to get to Jesus, 20 miles along the road in Cana.
He’s one of the palace officials –
one not supposed to be predisposed
to put his trust in one who was fast becoming seen as
some kind of subversive, religious radical.
Questions might be asked.
Answers that might not please the king....
but the father was desperate –
his faith that Jesus could just do something,
and his love for his poorly son,
propelled him along.

After a pretty impressive show of faith
by actually being prepared to travel twenty miles to get to Jesus,
the response of Jesus is interesting, well, odd –
it feels a bit... stand-offish.
But let’s think about what we know of the Gospel of John.
Time and time again, people are interested in Jesus,
or more to the point, in his signs and wonders.
They believe only after they’ve seen.
And for some of them, I suspect that Jesus becomes, in their minds,
a little like a spiritual vending machine –
insert prayer in this slot,
choose type of answer,
collect result.
In the exchange of words, however, Jesus realises the official may be a little different:
having told him to ‘go, your son will live,’
the man does exactly that – he goes off, taking Jesus at his word.
After Jesus has spoken, the official doesn’t ask Jesus
to come along back to Capernaum with him – just ‘in case’.
He doesn’t insist on seeing the miracle.
He believes, and goes.
As we heard, at the exact time Jesus tells the official his child will live,
across in Capernaum, his son recovers.
The love of the father for his son, and the faith he has put in Jesus wins the day –
this family has a happy ending.

In our reading from Romans, we find a different understanding of family:
family as a spiritual kind of kinship...
Here, we see Paul, in an almost parental mode, writing to fellow followers,
giving advice to a Christian community –
who he considered to be his spiritual children.
And we have a bit of a diverse family of followers:
some had been Jewish,
some had followed the Roman gods...
there were squabbles as to who got preference:
could the Gentile followers have the same rights as their brothers and sisters in the faith?
While some in that community were saying a very firm ‘no’,
Paul says ‘yes’
and his letter to this family of falling out followers
is to help them be a more harmonious family –
working together to work out God’s purposes in the world, not engaging in squabbles.
How to do this?
By giving some practical tips for living and loving together,
by providing a long list of examples that show
how to demonstrate love for a fellow faith family member.
Here is the love that cares for one another,
a love of compassionate care,
a love demonstrating the deep connection –
the bond between fellow family members.
Paul emphasises kinship.
Here love is not just an individual matter –
this is about the Body of Christ,
it’s about community,
it’s about brothers and sisters who are God’s children
and who work not for their own reward, but the reward for all.
‘This is about common good, an intuitive way of living towards each other,
closely bound together in the love we have for friends and family 
which shapes the structure of our daily lives.’  [David Lose]

Paul’s little love list – the list that, if followed, would help the family of followers
in Rome thrive in their faith –
is a great corrective to our modern world’s fixation on the mantra that
only the strongest, leanest, fittest, hottest, wealthiest survive.
Rather than creating a dog-eat-dog society where the most vulnerable,
or the ones who don’t quite conform, are left behind,
Paul’s list, urging each part of the body of Christ to love in these different ways
is a hallmark leading us right back to the radical rabbi, Jesus,
the One who command that we love one another, just as he loved us.
Paul’s list points right back to Jesus’s own love:
Be authentic? Jesus showed us what it was to be real.
Never be lacking in zeal? Well, Jesus had that figured as well –
showing though his words and energy during his ministry his love for the Father.
Humility – Jesus again modelled that.
As to not repaying evil with evil, Jesus went to the Cross uncomplaining –
and, even as his enemies tried to break him,
he broke the cycle of violence and destroyed death – through love itself.
He calls us his brothers and sisters and shows us what real family looks like:
welcoming,
hospitable,
looking out for the stranger,
connected...
outward looking.

Paul’s love list is a handy check list.
This week, why not re-read each item on the list and actively work on each one?
After all, ‘these words about familial love are not meant to be just aspirational, 
but are to be the bottom line in being the Body of Christ.’  [Spill the Beans]
It's about fam'ly, innit - God’s family.
Amen.

Food for the journey: bite-sized mid-week nourishment

On Sundays through Lent we're exploring the different words for love found in the New Testament.

On the theme of friendship...
this week, find a comfortable space, and spend a little time re-reading our passage from Luke 5: 17-26...

What a group of quite literally, 'get up and go' friends.
Think about your friendships this week and what they mean to you.
Go and phone, text or write to a friend.
Suggest a coffee or a meeting place or simply have a conversation.
Think together about how long you have been friends and why you made friends.
Later, in prayer, think again of this friendship and give thanks to God for it, and pray for your friend and those in her/ his life.

News, info, what's on: wk beg. 25 March

CHURCH NEWS

Sat 30 March, 3pm: Faith and film - ‘Les Miserables’ discussion group
cancelled this week...
we'll be doing a bumper session instead on:
Sat 6 April instead, where we meet our two protagonists Javert and Valjean
Hopetoun Arms Hotel, Leadhills...

Church quiz: the deadline for entries was on Sunday 24 March.
Winner to be announced soon.

Sundays in March - Food Bank Donations Box:
One week left to donate items to the Food Bank before the box is taken to Clydesdale Food Bank.

Further ahead - A date for your diary:
13 April, 2.30: The Guild daffodil tea –
Roberton Village Hall. Entertainment by Lanarkshire Rural Choir; prize draw.
Entry £5 – with proceeds going towards Guild projects.
Please do tell friends and neighbours

Minister’s day off this week: Tuesday

Sermon 24 March: The four loves - 'eros' and 'philia'

Due to the snow on the first Sunday of Lent, we're playing 'catch-up' in our series 'The four loves'.
Last week we introduced the overall theme, reflecting on Jesus' new command to love one another.
This week, we look at two of our four loves - 'eros' [or romantic love], and 'philia' [or friendship]...
Each deserves a sermon on its own, but what's a minister to do in the face of snow?

Early on in the service, we thought about different songs which had the word 'love' in the title,
and reminded ourselves of the old 'love is...' cartoons of the 70's/80's, writing our 'love is...'
definition on heart post-its and then posting them on the large heart-shape standing by
our wooden cross.

READINGS: Song of songs 8:5-7; 1 Cor 13; 1 Peter 3:8-12; Luke 5:17-26

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.

A friend has a running joke with me – his nick-name for me is ‘Dibley’:
like the Vicar of Dibley, I serve a very rural area,
like the Vicar of Dibley, well, I’m what Precious Mwbostwe from the
‘Number One Ladies Detective Agency’ would describe as ‘a traditionally built woman.’
Unlike the Vicar of Dibley, I don’t have a freezer stacked with a variety of Haagen Daz ice cream -
I’m a little sad about that last one.
Anyway, in an episode of The Vicar of Dibley, Geraldine, the Vicar,
was in the midst of a dream about a possible marriage.
There were several nightmarish elements to her dream:
the minister conducting the service was an embittered ex-boyfriend
throwing in snarky comments between what he was supposed to be saying;
her first name, which she never uses, and which she has never told to anyone
has to be used for the legalities of the ceremony:
so we find out that Geraldine is actually Boadicea Geraldine, much to her embarrassment.
As to her groom: to her horror, she finds she’s standing next to David,
her sometimes arch nemesis and also the equivalent of the Session Clerk –
a man she definitely doesn’t want to marry.
Having just been asked if she will take him for her husband, Geraldine pauses,
um’s and arrr’s, and looks a tad panicky.
She turns around looking at the congregation helplessly.
Just then, the man she’s had a crush on for years, walks through the church doors –
the irresistibly lovely Sean Bean.
Their eyes meet, and he cries out in his glorious northern English accent:
‘No! Don’t do it Geraldine. It’s me you love!’
A smile of rapture – and relief – fills Geraldine’s face.
He beckons to her:
‘Come away, lass...’
And she runs up the aisle blissfully to meet him.
It’s a truly beautiful moment

The Song of Songs –
the one book in the bible that exists to celebrate the joys of ‘eros’ –
of romantic love, of human desire,
is a call to come away:
a call to love at the most intimate level,
to join your life with that of another and to share the journey together.
This call to love is as old as humanity itself,
a natural and normal part of what it is to be human.
If there was a list of things needed in order to do more than just merely survive,
then finding and sharing love would feature high up on the list.

As we were thinking about earlier, love is a prime ingredient for many songs;
love inspires poets to wax lyrical,
artists to paint, or sculpt, or create works expressing their desire for a loved one –
or disappointment at love lost.
From the slightly quicker than normal beating of our heart,
to getting a little flustered,
to being inspired to create masterpieces,
or, inspired by love, to discover, and share love’s generous spirt with others through
kindness...
love moves us, transforms us.
And, when done well, can make us better people.
So, it’s interesting to me that the one book in the Bible that does talk about
this particular expression of love, is a book that has historically,
with a wee blush, been quietly left to gather dust,
or, explained away as a poem about God’s relationship with the nation of Israel.
Sure, you can read it that way if you like, but, to do so would be a disservice to the text itself.
Along with the story of creation,
along with the books that give us a potted history of Israel,
or information about Jewish law,
or proclaim the words of the prophets,
or the poetry of the psalms –
with the whole range of human emotions on display within them –
along with the New Testament books
telling us of the life of Jesus
and the creation of the church,
in the Song of Songs, we see the celebration of human love –
and what a healthy, good, fully-rounded human relationship might look like:
an aspirational human relationship, if you like.
And, at some point, when those who compiled the various books into what
we now have as the bible as a whole, this small book – this text for lovers –
was deemed fit to be included.
This expression of love is one of God’s gifts to humanity –
to be used wisely and well.

A movie many years ago, ‘Love Story', had as its tag-line:
‘love means never having to say your sorry.’
I suspect the couple within the Song of Songs would disagree.
The model of human desire and love we find in our text is not the fluffy stuff of Hollywood.
While there’s the falling in love bit,
the couple in this poem appear to have been together for a while.
When the initial rosy glow of that first love begins to fade,
it’s then that the work of love really begins:
seeing each other warts and all,
making room for each other,
making time for each other, too.
Working at not taking each other for granted.
Working at communicating so that irritations don’t fester into a resentment
that undermines the relationship.
Each listening,
each putting the other first,
in what is the mutual, shared work of love.
Of course, sometimes, no matter how hard you might both work at it,
sometimes, even with the best will in the world,
sometimes... it breaks.
And in the midst of that brokenness, it’s finding love enough to forgive
and work out what the best, least destructive course of action might be for both.
Love, in whatever form, is beautiful
and also one of the hardest things we get to do as humans.
And yet, here, in the Song of Songs, the book which the church has been
rather coy about discussing over the centuries,
...here we have a model of love that shows the joys, the ups, the downs, the nitty gritty
of a healthy, happy, human relationship –
of being completely known and loved by another human being.
True love.
True, because it's real.

In a world which so frequently exploits human bodies –
uses people as commodities,
devalues people,
treats women and men as ‘hunks’ of meat – objectifying them in advertising;
in a world of #metoo and the abuse of women by those in powerful positions;
in a world where we are now so much more aware of sex trafficking...
we need to turn from the twisting of love
and hear again what truly loving human relationships can be like:
we need to hear again the words of the Song of Songs as a counter-balance,
and as a way to create healthy relationship goals.

By the by, we heard the words of 1st Corinthians 13,
along with our reading from Song of Songs.
This reading is one that’s very popular at weddings and while the sentiments are lovely,
it’s not ‘eros’ that this particular text is describing,
but another Greek word for love ‘agape’ –
not romantic love,
but total, selfless, unconditional love,
the self-sacrificing love of God for humanity,
a love passionately committed to the well-being of others
with no expectation of it being reciprocated...
There may be some ideals within it that cross over –
a certain selflessness, but... it’s different.
So next time you’re at a wedding and hear it read,
you can nod wisely and go ‘ah, yes, but...’
And we’ll be exploring this particular word in a couple of weeks.

Very quickly, we move to another of our four words for love this morning – ‘philia’ –
brotherly or sisterly love – neighbourly love if you like.
This is about friendship.
And in our passage from Luke – well, aren’t these the kinds of friends you’d like to have?
These are the sorts of friend who have your back in a crisis:
they’ll do anything they can to help you out,
even if it means picking you up on your bed,
carrying you off, digging through a roof,
and getting you to someone who might just have an answer for your illness.
As we were thinking of songs earlier on the theme of romantic love,
so there’s songs about friendship;
there’s the classic Carol King/ James Taylor song ‘You’ve got a friend’, with the words:
‘winter, spring, summer, or fall,
all you’ve got to do is call,
and I’ll be there, yes I will,
you’ve got a friend.’
The friends in our gospel passage are just these kinds of friends:
they are there for their friend in need.

Helen Keller once said:
“Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the night.”
We need companionship –
God noticed this having created human beings and said:
‘it’s not good for humans to be alone.’
Whether romantic love, or companionable friendship,
we are at our best when we have others
to spend time with –
to share the load,
to listen,
and be listened to in return;
to help one another,
laugh with one another,
at times, cry with one another...
to just be still, in silence together,
or, to stand together – and face the world –
support, solidarity.
Some say that 'you can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends,'
and friendship makes life bearable.

The extraordinary act of friendship shown by the paralysed man’s friends
is such that even Jesus is astonished by it – he’s impressed.
He restores the man to full health –
and, having been healed,
the man picks up his mat and heads off with his friends, presumably all of them rejoicing together.
Friendship: shared sorrows and shared joys.

‘Philia’
This model of love is used by Jesus when talking about those who follow him.
‘I call you my friends,’ he says to the disciples.
Jesus, Son of God, Messiah, Prince of Peace,
rather than pulling rank... calls us his friends.
God, in sending Jesus,
shows us the relationship he wants to have with us:
not one of being beaten down,
cajoled into toeing the line –
not slaves, nor servants,
...but friends.
For far too long there’s been the notion of God as the One with the big stick ready to pounce,
ready to punish us if we step out of line:
controlling, angry, One to be feared.
It is good to remind ourselves that, no matter how we mess up, God, through Jesus,
calls us his friends –
calls us to spend our lives walking alongside him, not cowering, but companionably.
There’s a sense of restoration –
of being back in the Garden when God and Adam walked and talked together.
We are God’s beloved,
and we are God’s friends.
Thanks be to God for his love. Amen.

Food for the journey: mid-week, bite-sized nourishment

Spiritual nourishment for the week ahead:

As we think about our Lenten theme of Love, each night this week take five minutes to think about, give thanks for, and write down an example of a moment during that day where you experienced the opportunity to show love to someone else or had the experience of being loved.
If words don’t come easily, you may want to draw a picture, or make a symbol to represent this moment.

news, info, events: wk beg. 18 March

CHURCH NEWS

Sat 23 March, 3pm: Faith and film - ‘Les Miserables’ discussion group
meets at the Hopetoun Arms Hotel over consecutive Saturdays.
Join us as and when you’re able for what promises to be some good conversation
as we reflect on themes from the film and matters of faith.
[N.B. so as not to clash with the Daffodil Tea on Sat 13 April, the last meeting 
will be on Sunday 14th at 3pm, at the same venue]

Church quiz: the deadline for entries is Sunday 24 March.
Copies of the quiz are £1 and can be bought from members of the Committee.
All proceeds go to church funds. Prize £10
[in case of several correct entries, a ‘blind’ draw will take place to produce a winner]

Sundays in March - Food Bank Donations Box:
Over the Sundays of March, we will have a box in which to leave
dry/ tinned goods/ basic hygiene products for the Clydesdale Food Bank.
If you have items to donate, that would be excellent:
we shall make sure they get to their destination!

Further ahead - A date for your diary:
13 April, 2.30: The Guild daffodil tea –
Roberton Village Hall. Entertainment by Lanarkshire Rural Choir; prize draw.
Entry £5 – with proceeds going towards Guild projects. Please do tell friends and neighbours

Minister’s day off this week: Monday

Sermon, Sun 17 March: Love one another

A blending today of Lent 1 and 2, burying more 'alleluias' and thinking of Jesus' new commandment to love one another, as we begin a series on 'the four loves' during Lent.
We also remembered Christchurch during our time of worship.

READINGS: Proverbs 3:3-4; John 13: 31-38

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.

Our gospel passage finds us in an odd place so early into the time of Lent:
normally, we’d find ourselves in the wilderness with Jesus, just after his baptism – there to stay and pray for 40 days.
Then, bit by bit over the weeks, we’d steadily head toward Jerusalem.
Instead, this morning we find ourselves peeking
in on Jesus and the disciples already in Jerusalem,
and, on the night when he was betrayed.
It’s the Last Supper.

Just before our passage Jesus has washed his disciples’ feet
taking on the role of a servant to them, much to their confusion.
It’s an act of service, and an act of self-giving love.
It’s a demonstration of love in action –
of love for others,
of being prepared to let go of any advantage:
in this case, Jesus has authority over the disciples as their teacher, their Rabbi.
When called by him,
they had placed their lives in his hands,
had agreed to follow him,
to be taught by him,
to serve him as needed,
and, in washing their feet, Jesus has done an odd, a new thing:
overturned an understanding of power.
It’s not about lording it over people:
it’s about care, concern,
of responsibility shown through service.
It’s about love.
And, having washed their feet, he instructs them to ‘do as I have done.’

Now, remember, one popular understanding of the Messiah was that
he would come in power – would come as a mighty warrior
to destroy the Romans and restore the greatness of Israel.
And here is one, who some think just might be the Messiah
washing dusty feet;
waiting on them as a servant.
A new way.
A way, as we’ve seen elsewhere with some responses to Jesus,
that’s not always well received:
Jesus, the Living Bread who’s not necessarily seen as easily palatable.

It’s on this last night together,
as they eat –
as Jesus creates a new meal with them so that they will remember him
every time they eat and drink together when he’s no longer physically present...
it’s on this last night,
when Judas slinks out into the night and into the darkness of betrayal,
that Jesus distils his teaching right down to the marrow:
‘A new commandment I give you:
love one another.
As I have loved you, 
so you must love one another.
Love is what will mark you out as my followers.’
All, in the end, is about love.
Simple.

Well, we’d like it to be, wouldn’t we?
Jesus’ teaching seems to be less about rules and more about healthy relationships:
with God
and with each other –
immediate neighbours such as family,
or the folk next door,
or around about you and even broader –
to all human beings:
each is neighbour to the other.
‘Love one another’ –
not just fellow followers of the Way,
but finding ways to love the whole of humanity.

Remember the Pharisees and the Teachers of the Law  who Jesus had run-in’s with?
The ones who really didn’t take to the content of his teaching:
who didn’t like his particular innovations?
Well, let’s be frank, it’s easy to have some sympathy with them:
Following rules, no matter how many,
no matter how seemingly pernickety,
no matter how seemingly tiresome,
is, at least, straightforward.
Love is in a different category altogether: 
it’s not about rules but about relationship. 
It’s an orientation of the heart 
and not merely an act of will. 
Jesus, in other words, quite deliberately sets 
out as his supreme commandment 
...something which cannot be commanded, 
but only given freely with no guarantee of return.’
                                                       [from Spill the Beans]
‘Freely given’.
Given.
Letting go.
Letting love be the goal.
When you’ve got a rule book,
you’ve got something to measure life and behaviour by.
When the rules in the book end up being boiled down to one word ‘love’
how do you measure that?
How do you ever know you’ve done enough?
Well, I think the thing is to stop getting caught up in the act of actually measuring:
just... love.
Love without measure.
But again, love freely given?
Letting go -
of your need for such things such as self-importance;
power; even holding grudges...
well, that's hard; we like to feel important.
And, actually, we are:
we’re God’s beloved – that’s more than enough.
It's what we ground ourselves in.
When our feathers get ruffled over some imagined slight that we
feel has been designed to knock us down a peg or two, we’ve a few options –
we can knock the other person down to size,
or, knowing ourselves beloved of God,
we can rest in that, and laugh the other off.
As people who are loved, so in turn, that love allows us to let go of anger, of unforgiveness,
and to move on and live.
Love one another – even the ones who annoy you.
Love ... and let go.
Love... and let God.

Over the next four weeks, we’ll be learning God’s language of love.
Exploring four words for love that are found in the New Testament.
We have:
‘Eros’ – romantic love;
‘Philia’ – love for your fellow human beings;
‘Storge’ – love for family and friends
and ‘Agape’ – unconditional, self-giving love.
This last, the kind that Jesus demonstrates when turning his face
to Jerusalem, and certain death, but doing it anyway.
Regardless of the different ways to love – to express love –
in the end, Jesus’ command to us is still the same.
In whichever mode, we are to ‘love one another’.
I like how the writer of Proverbs thinks about love:
‘Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.’

Love: written on the heart –
love... one another...
what does it look like, this kind of love?
In the course of this past week alone,
it’s found in a story told of the old workshed,
where a dad quietly and practically got on with the business of
mending his daughter’s favourite toy, or broken table,
without making any kind of fuss;
it’s found in conversations between different groups of people,
seeking to really listen and to learn, and to work alongside one another –
putting privileges and power aside, along with assumptions...for the common good:
the committee meeting I was at in Inverness between
the Church of Scotland and the Scottish Episcopal Church;
it’s found in an ordinary Friday lunch time,
on an ordinary road in Christchurch when,
suddenly caught up in the midst of bullets flying,
a 66 year old woman gets out of her car to pull a wounded man out of the line of fire,
and, with another ordinary Christchurch man,
uses her hands to keep pressure on a bleeding wound and so save a life;
it’s found outside a mosque in Manchester,
where a grandpa called Andrew, a practising Christian,
stands by the gate with a poster proclaiming:
"You are my friends. I will keep watch while you pray" as a response
of solidarity to his known and unknown Muslim neighbours
stunned by the events so far away in Christchurch....

We don’t need to treat the Bible as some kind of rule book,
where, if we get it wrong, we’re doomed.
Boiled down to the marrow,
the Bible is the story of God’s desire for a relationship with human beings
and they with him;
and the story of humans relating to one another.
The story of love.
To find God’s favour,
don’t just read the rules:
write love on your heart.
Let love be as natural to you as breathing.

Jesus’ reminds us, with this ‘new’ commandment
that the rules were never meant to be a rigid straitjacket, pinning us down –
they were meant to help.
So, he goes back to basics:
the rule to love.
It’s blurry, sometimes messy, not easily measured.
We’ll get it wrong time and time again...
but if we keep at it,
and keep loving,
and remember that we are loving because we ourselves
already have God’s favour,
that we are God’s beloved,
then, even amid the mistakes we’ll make,
there will also be goodness and beauty,
kindness and compassion –
because they are the fruit of love.

Let’s pray:
Can it be that easy, Jesus?
Can it be that hard?
That what You want for us 
is just to love
and be loved?
Is it possible that even those 
who have tried the hardest,
signed on the dotted line,
sat for years in classes
and strained their eyes from reading,
dressed in all the most appropriate garments,
and spoken with only the most measured words…
that these can miss You?

How can it be when those who have hardly 
tried at all,
who have damaged themselves 
and others so much,
that,... in the end they have no where else to turn
but to throw themselves on Your grace…
how can it be that these 
are the ones You search out?

How do we make sense of this, Jesus?
How do we love so scandalously, so inclusively?
How do we allow ourselves to be loved enough,
that all our hard and sharp edges
grow soft and round?

Help us to find the humility and courage,
the boldness and grace,
that in our loving and being loved,
we may somehow ignite our world with 
a compassion so fierce
that violence and abuse,
rejection and condemnation,
neglect and greed
become unthinkable. 
Lord Jesus, teach us anew 
the new commandment.
Teach us to love. Amen.
               [prayer from Spill the Beans]

Sun 10 March: white and fluffy

Notes on worship this morning/

When I woke up at 6.30 this morning, the fields and hills were green. Then at 8ish, the snow came fast: a great big flurry and dump. By 8.30, the phone began ringing... 

'I'll be toiling to get down the road/track to get out of the village/farm' was a common theme. 

Too late to officially cancel church, I cleared the drive and slithered over to Abington: the minister mobile always surprises me with its get up and go. It's the little car that, apparently, can.

Managing up the hill to church, our duty elder was there preparing. We wondered if we might be the only two.

Another joined us at 10.20.

We decided that, if we three were to be it [and, on the principle that where two or three are gathered], then we'd stay until 10.45ish, during which we'd read the gospel passage, bury our 'alleluias', say a prayer and, after a blessing, lock up and go have a cuppa and a blether in the village store.

And that's pretty much what happened due to the white and fluffy stuff. The snow has been off and on during the rest of the day, and at the moment, the fields and hills are once again green, while the sun shines from a blue sky. 

There's more snow to come.

Stay safe, stay warm. 

It's weird March weather out there...

Food for the journey: mid-week, bite-sized spiritual nourishment

Today - Ash Wednesday -
marks the official beginning of the season of Lent -
a time for spiritual 'decluttering',
a time for reorienting ourselves toward God,
a time for journeying with Jesus
on the road to Jerusalem -
to cheers and 'hosanna's!',
to jeers and 'crucify him!',
through to fear and wonder and 'He is risen!'

A short service to mark Ash Wednesday will be held this evening 

in the church at Abington, at 6.30pm...

As we begin this time of reflecting, refocusing, and journeying, a blessing for the road ahead:

Remember that you are dust 

and to dust you shall return.

Let the memory of your incomplete humanity awaken you 

to the wonders, joys, sorrows, and pain of life.

Let the ashes you wear be the ashes of transformation;

of awakening to the beauty and love of seizing the moment and living it to the fullest.

Let it be said of you that here in this little part of eternity 

you lived fully, loved extravagantly,

and helped humanity evolve into all that God dreamed we can be.

Remember that you are dust 

and to dust you shall return -

made of the stuff of the stars;

fearfully and wonderfully made 

in the image of the One who is was and ever more shall be: 

Creator, Christ and Spirit. 

Amen.

News, info, events: wk beg 3 March

CHURCH NEWS/ What's on:

Beginning 3rd March - Food Bank Donations Box:
Over the Sundays of March, we will have a box in which to leave
dry/ tinned goods/ basic hygiene products for the Clydesdale Food Bank.
If you have items to donate, that would be excellent:
we shall make sure they get to their destination!
For further information, here's a link to their site: Clydesdale Food Bank

Minister’s time off this week will be: Thursday

Sun 10 March, 9-9.45am: Prayer group meets in the church

Saturdays from 16 March, 3pm - 13 April: 
Faith and film - ‘Les Miserables’: 5 week discussion group -
this year’s Lent study features ‘Les Miserables’ as our discussion starter. Each week through Lent, we'll explore themes from the film that tie in with faith.
We'll be using the book ‘Another story must begin’ by Jonathan Meyer [£5.99].
The group will meet at the Hopetoun Arms Hotel in Leadhills.

Church quiz: our Social Committee has produced a fiendish fun/fund-raiser.
Test your brain cells on the not as simple as you might think
nursery rhymes and games quiz devised by Isobel T.
Copies of the quiz are £1 and can be bought from members of the Committee.
All proceeds go to church funds. Prize £10
[in case of multiple correct entries, a ‘blind’ draw will take place to produce the winning entry]
Deadline is 24 March.

Sermon: Sun 3 March, Communion...'Come, eat, drink, and live'

READINGS: Isaiah 55:1-5; John 7:31-44;  John 7:45-52

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’s early morning.
A maid enters a room quietly, opens the French windows,
and stops briefly at the bed in which a young boy sleeps soundly.
Nodding to herself, she leaves, closing the door behind her.
Birdsong fills the room.
A lone, rather plaintive, voice drifts up from the street below
competing with the birds:
‘Who will buy my sweet red roses...?’
The boy stirs, gets up, goes to the window steps out on to the balcony:
we see a beautiful Georgian crescent with rows of white-painted houses
encircling a lush green, tree-filled park,
and, in-between, a road with a single figure,
carrying a basket filled with red, red roses – the singer.
As she continues to sing, others arrive on the street:
milk vendors,
fruit sellers,
knife grinders...
all singing,
all asking:
‘who will buy?’
‘who will buy?’

The boy responds to the sight –
his whole life has just changed:
rescued from the streets,
he finds himself living with kindly folk in comfortable surroundings.
As he looks at the various street vendors
he wants something that none of them are selling –
something money can’t buy,
and, wondering at his change of fortune,
longing not to lose this moment, he sings:
‘who will buy...
this wonderful morning –
such a sight, I never did see:
who will tie 
it up with a ribbon
and put it in a box for me?’

And, can anyone recognise the story and the film – that I’m talking about?
...'Oliver’
Here’s a story of a young boy who, right from his birth discovers life is hard,
that people can be cruel –
and yet, for all that is thrown at him, he somehow manages to retain a sweet nature.
Very early on, in the movie version, we find Oliver in the orphanage:
it’s meal-time and the children barely subsist on a meagre bowl of gruel.
In daring to come to the table and ask for more, he’s punished,
and later sold into an apprenticeship – child slavery.
For Oliver, the pangs of hunger bite deep –
he wants more –
more bread, for sure –
but, more from life, as we see later when he sings:
‘who will buy this wonderful morning.’
He’s found a small moment of grace and peace in his life and he’d like it to last forever.

Over the last several weeks, our readings from John
have focused in upon who Jesus is,
and, how people have responded to him.
We’ve seen him feed a multitude with bread and fish –
we’ve heard him tell his followers that he, himself, is the bread of life.
Only he will truly satisfy the hunger of heart and soul.
He invites us to come:
to feast upon the bread of life –
and here in our passage from John,
to drink of the living water.

It’s also an invitation that God extends to the people of Israel in our passage from Isaiah:
‘Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters...
Come, buy wine and milk without money,
and without cost.’
Here we also find the language of that which does, and does not satisfy:
don’t waste time, money, your life...on the things that don’t satisfy –
God urges his people.
Choose the good stuff – it’s the stuff that will delight the soul.
And we find that it’s listening to God that gives life.

The prophet is giving a message to a broken and battered people –
who have lived through war,
who have lived as captives,
who have lived in the shadows...
better, almost, to say:
people who have half-lived.
These are folk in need of a good word,
in need of good news,
in need... of rescue;
people worn down by hard circumstances
longing for –
hungering and thirsting for –
even just a small moment of grace and peace.
And the God who calls them his people,
calls to them:
‘Come, eat, drink, and live.’
This is the God who will make a new covenant with them:
a new way of living,
a new way forward in the relationship between God and human:
a covenant, a promise, of unfailing kindness.
God has seen their suffering,
God has heard their cries,
God has continued loving them even when they turned their eyes away from him...
‘Listen to me, and eat what is good,’ says God.
God invites his people to the feast
and to feast on life.
God also invites us, his people, to look beyond the immediate:
from those things promoted to provide instant gratification,
to that which may take longer –
because we may need to dig a little deeper,
ask the harder questions of God and ourselves...
we may be tempted to go for the quick fix,
but to do so will only find us dissatisfied a little further on.

Real listening – deep listening – is hard.
So often, in conversation, how many of us are only half listening,
because we’re thinking about what we’re going to say when the other has stopped?
In the invitation to listen to God, we can find ourselves encountering hard work:
so many distractions,
so many shiny things...
but in the work of deep listening,
we also find the other part of the invitation:
the good things to eat that do last, that do satisfy,
that give us not just glimpses of grace,
but a life filled with God’s grace and peace.

God invites his people to come.
Jesus continues that invitation:
to come to the table,
to come and feast upon life,
to come and be truly satisfied
to sate your hunger and slate your thirst.
But it doesn’t end there:
as God’s people,
as Jesus’ followers,
we’re called to extend the invitation to others -
to come, to be welcome, to feast on things that money just can’t buy;
to discover moments of grace and peace that can’t be bought because they’re freely given.
The gift that God offers to us
becomes the gift we can offer to others.

Shortly, we’ll be sharing in the feast:
the bread and wine of communion.
In this meal, with this food and drink,
we’re given a foretaste of heaven,
a foretaste of the new creation,
a reminder of who we are,
and whose we are,
and that in God, we have all we need...
So: ‘Come, eat, drink, and live.’ Amen.