Sermon, Sun 24 Feb - 'Who am I?'

READINGS: Mark 8:27-38;  John 7:1-13; John 7:14-31

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.

One of the great themes of Victor Hugo’s story ‘Les Miserables’ is identity – something we’ll further explore during our discussion group when we begin in a couple of weeks.
Identity:
All through the story, we follow the character of the ex-prisoner Jean Valjean.
We see him not only running from the law,
but at times running away from himself – from who he is.
At times, we see Valjean assuming different identities to help keep him
under the radar of the relentless Inspector Javert, who is obsessed with capturing him.
As the story progresses, we find Valjean eventually coming to terms
with who he is, the person he’s become.
And, he’s been many things depending on who has encountered him:
a rogue,
a wretch in need of a second chance,
a thief,
a prisoner on the run,
a mayor,
a philanthropist,
an adopted parent...
there are many parts to the man.

Now, in one part of ‘Les Mis’, the relentless Javert has been appointed
as Inspector to a small town. He accuses the mayor of being Valjean.
Javert is disconcerted, however, to discover that, elsewhere, in another town,
Valjean has been caught at last and is awaiting trial.
He finds the mayor, ‘Monsieur Madeleine,
and apologises profusely for making his accusations.
Having wronged the mayor, Javert acknowledges that he should be punished,
that he will quit his job as the town’s inspector, and also, quit the area.
Javert then exits, leaving the mayor stunned.
Now alone, the mayor wonders at this odd turn of events,
and the dilemma that he’s faced with, because Javert had been correct:
Monsieur Madeleine, the mayor, is indeed, none other than Jean Valjean.

This case of simple mistaken identity could be
the passport to Valjean’s own freedom –
no more running,
no more hiding...
but also, ...no more ‘Valjean’;
he will always have to live under an alias -
who he is will be truly lost forever.
Thinking of the poor soul who has the misfortune of
looking like Valjean, he asks himself:
‘Who am I?’ 
‘Can I condemn this man to slavery?
Pretend I do not feel his agony
This innocent who bears my face
Who goes to judgement in my place
Who am I?’

After much agonising, Valjean the mayor races off to the other town,
heads for the court where the lookalike ‘Valjean’ is standing trial and reclaims his identity,
in the process, saving the innocent man.
Addressing the judge, he states:
‘Who am I?
I am Jean Valjean!
And so, Honor, 
you see it's true,
That man bears no more 
guilt than you!
Who am I? 
24601.’
The apparent villain of the piece is truly the hero –
Valjean reveals himself to have a noble character;
he's given his life, his freedom, for another.
At the end of the story, he is able to move from the
shadow of being 24601, his prison number,
to being fully restored:
to being Jean Valjean.
It’s not without cost.

Throughout the gospels, in fact, throughout the New Testament,
the major theme is one of identity –
‘Who is Jesus?’
Last week, we thought of the expectations of the crowd, who’d followed Jesus:
we talked of possible hopes and expectations –
what drew them out to see this man?
What were they hungering for?
Tied in with the many hopes and expectations is this matter of identity:
Who is this man?
There’s so many rumours, so many who are whispering about him –
‘he’s this,’
‘he’s that,’
‘he’s the other.’
Our reading from Mark chapter 8 has Jesus asking his disciples
‘Who do people say I am?’
While in our reading from John chapter 7,
we see the whispering and rumour mill working in earnest.
Everyone seems to want to offer their particular ‘hot take’ on Jesus,
but, they’re doing it on the quiet –
fearful of causing trouble...
fearful of the religious authorities,
fearful of the Romans,
perhaps even fearful of daring to believe that what this Jesus was saying...
might just be true.

Our reading in chapter seven probably takes
place around six months from our reading from last week,
when the multitude had been fed with bread and fish.
The religious calendar was moving toward the Feast of Tabernacles,
a big feast – popular – a celebration of harvest.
Those who could, were headed to the Temple in Jerusalem.
We find Jesus in conversation with his brothers:
they don’t really take him seriously,
don’t really believe in all of the strange stuff he comes out with from time to time,
don’t necessarily approve of his lifestyle choices – a wandering rabbi??
He’s the oldest.
He should be more responsible, look out for his family,
keep the family business running like a well-oiled machine,
not go off travelling the countryside.
Perhaps to knock some sense into him, to give him a reality check,
they suggest that if he’s truly serious, he should go up to Jerusalem:
he’d have a much bigger audience to play to than the backwater villages of the Galilee...
‘You want to be famous? Then away you go – and, while you’re there, maybe do a miracle.’
Jesus’ response is to encourage them to go instead.
It’s not the right time for him to declare himself quite so publicly
in what is the centre of power;
he knows that going to Jerusalem too openly will only have one outcome –
a rather final one.
There is still some work to do to prepare for that time.

And yet, in the end, Jesus quietly heads off to Jerusalem and to the festival –
and we see the wide variety of responses,
of plain old gossip in some quarters,
about Jesus and just who he might be.
The religious authorities are on the look out for him –
they’ve already decided who Jesus is... or, rather, who he most absolutely can not be.
They mean to kill him.
Where everyone else is busy speculating about who Jesus is,
they are the only ones asking ‘where' Jesus is.
We move from the religious authorities –
here referred to merely as ‘the Jews’ –
and to the crowd:
‘He’s a good man,’ some say.
‘He’s a deceiver,’ say others.
Later, Jesus begins teaching – speculation increases:
‘who is he and how does he know all this stuff?’
In response, rather than pointing to himself, Jesus points to God the Father –
the One who sent him,
the One whose will Jesus follows,
the One whose teaching Jesus shares with the crowd.
Alongside this, he calls out the religious authorities very publicly:
‘Why are you trying to kill me?’ he asks.
Some now think he’s demon-possessed, others mad.
Some believe his claim, based on the deafening silence of the religious authorities themselves.
‘They haven’t contradicted him – maybe even they think he’s the Messiah?’
The whispers rumble on – and even the Temple guards get caught up in all the speculation:
so much so, that, having been sent to arrest Jesus, they come back empty-handed.
We end this particular section of John with many
putting their faith in him, despite the danger.
Who do they say Jesus is?
Clearly, this last group think he’s the Messiah –
although the kind of Messiah they’re thinking of might not just be
the kind of Messiah that Jesus will turn out to be.

Who do we say Jesus is?
Just as Jesus asked his followers so long ago,
so the question has continued to be asked –
and it’s a question with so many parts to it:
Messiah, yes.
Liberator, check.
Bread of life, yep.
Healer of hurts and mender of hearts...
yes, and yes,
and so much more.
It’s a question we can use to continually inform our own faith,
to help it grow and flourish.
It’s an ongoing, life-long question, as we walk with him in faith.
As we dive into the word – into Scripture –
we discover more about this man,
more about who he is...
A chap called David Lose - a biblical commentator and someone
who I enjoy reading for his particular take on scripture states that:
‘It’s just too easy to misunderstand what “messiah” means. 
We are so inclined to project what we want God to be and do 
that we often miss what God actually has done and is doing. 
We, too, whatever our professions of faith, are regularly surprised 
when God shows up just where we least expect God to be: 
in the cross, in our suffering, 
in our moments of weakness, doubt, and despair. 
This is what “messiah” means – not what we want, perhaps, 
but what we most desperately need.’   [David Lose]
This is ‘who’ God is...

Who do you say Jesus is?
It’s an ongoing conversation.
Want to learn who Jesus is?
Spend time reading his story, seeing who he thought himself to be.
Explore the names he gave himself.
Follow.
And, as you follow, you’ll find your feet time and again
walking the path to the Cross,
and beyond, to Resurrection.
Jesus calls us to walk alongside him;
to walk in faith and discover more about who he is,
and in doing so, who God is.
We’re not called to know all the answers to life, the universe, and everything –
we’re called to follow,
and invited by the very Son of God to ask questions –
to live the questions.
By the by, questions aren’t a sign of doubt,
they’re a sign of honest conversation with God,
with God who asks questions,
and who invites them.

Who do we say Jesus is?
As a community called by him to gather together,
let’s be open to discovery of who we might find when we respond to that question,
and let’s enjoy a life-time of answering it
through our lives, in our prayers, and in our actions –
for at the very heart of who we say Jesus is,
we find love...
Let that love - the love of God - be our guide,
in our service to him and our service to others.
now and always. Amen.

Food for the journey: bite-sized spiritual nourishment

This week, given our 'bread' reading in John 6, a hands-on reflection complete with a recipe [at end]!
When I have time, I love making bread – the slow way. There’s something about the process that lends itself to prayer and meditation.
If you can this week, why not make a little time to make some bread, and as you do so, think about your favourite types of bread and all the many different varieties that are available to you...
What do you most appreciate about bread?
What does the phrase “the bread of life” stir in your mind this week?
Think of Jesus’ statement that he is the bread of life.
And, if you make an extra loaf, you could always share it with a neighbour...

Even if you haven’t time to make bread, you might like to use the following prayer
over the week as you think about Jesus as the bread of life.

Prayer/ 
There is nothing like the smell of baked bread. 
It fills a room, a house, with delicious aroma. 
It promises nourishment and confirms availability. 
It creates the sense of well being and goodness... 
Lord, into this world let the living bread create such aroma. 
Let your love, justice and goodness travel far, wide and deep; 
let your spirit instil a sense of hope and well-being 
in our homes, villages, nation, and world; 
let your grace be an ingredient available at the centre of everything. Amen.

Basic 4-step bread recipe/
Ingredients:
500g granary, strong wholewheat or white bread flour;
7g sachet fast-action dried yeast;  1 tsp salt;  2 tblsp olive oil;  1 tblsp clear honey
Method
1/ Tip the flour, yeast and salt into a large bowl and mix together with your hands.
Stir 300ml hand-hot water with the oil and honey,
then stir into the dry ingredients to make a soft dough.

2/ Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 5 mins,
until the dough no longer feels sticky, sprinkling with a little more flour if you need it.

3/ Oil the loaf tin and put the dough in the tin, pressing it in evenly.
Put in a large plastic food bag and leave to rise for 1 hr, until the dough has risen
to fill the tin and it no longer springs back when you press it with your finger.

4/ Heat oven to 200C/fan 180C/gas 6.
Make several slashes across the top of the loaf with a sharp knife,
then bake for 30-35 mins until the loaf is risen and golden.
Tip it out onto a cooling rack and tap the base of the bread to check it is cooked.
It should sound hollow.
Leave to cool.
Enjoy!

News, info, looking ahead... wk beg 18 Feb

CHURCH NEWS/ What's on:

Church quiz: At the request of the Social Committee, Isobel T and a friend have devised
a devious, but fun quiz sheet. Get the grey matter working as you try to decode clues
and find the answers to some old familiar nursery rhymes and games.
Each sheet is £1 - and being sold by members of the Social Committee.
Winning entry will receive £10 - and all money raised goes towards church funds.
[in the case of several correct entries, these will be put in a bucket and one drawn 'blind']

Wed 20... keep an eye out for an online mid-week reflection based on John 6 and bread...

Thurs 21, 7pm: Kirk Session meets in the church hall

Sun 24 Feb, 6.30pm: Evening Worship at Leadhills Village Hall.
Join us as we gather for a more informal time of worship.
This week, we welcome Peter Crockett who will be leading our time together.
After worship stay on for a chat over tea/coffee/juice and baking. All welcome.

Sun 3 March, 10.30am: Communion. Join us as we gather together
to share in the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper.
No matter where you are on your spiritual journey,
it is the Lord’s table and he welcomes all to share.

Also, 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!

Parish magazine – Easter edition: Contributions/ articles - 
With 9 weeks to go till Easter, our editor, Dee is looking for articles for our Easter magazine.
If you have a story you wish to share - a past Easter that sticks in your mind,
or what your favourite Easter hymn/ poem is and why, or anything else on an Easter theme,
you have two weeks until it needs to be submitted to Dee. The deadline is 3 March.

Faith and film - ‘Les Miserables’: 5 week discussion group -
this year’s Lent study features ‘Les Miserables’ as our discussion starter. We’ll be showing the film in the manse at 3.30pm Sun 3 March, and thereafter, each week through Lent, there’ll be a discussion group looking at themes from the film that tie in with faith.
A book ‘Another story must begin’ by Jonathan Meyer [£5.99], will be used to help our discussion. Nikki is happy to order this for you if you’re interested.
Please let her know if you’d like to join the group/ would like a copy of the book by Sun 24 Feb. Time and place tbd, but 3.30pm Sundays at the manse is one available option.

Sunday, 17 Feb 2019 - sermon: 'Bread of heaven'

Today, we chewed on chunky chapter six of John's gospel [gold star for our heroic reader, Heather, who did an excellent job]. Breaking the chapter down into 3 sections, we reflected on the feeding of the 5 000, grumbling from followers and Jesus calling himself the 'bread of life', and
some disciples finding his teaching too hard - and walking away.
Several key questions:
What were those in the crowd hungering for?
Or, the followers who eventually turned away?
What do we hunger for?

A couple of shorter reflections before the sermon:
a/ brought up practical sharing in the form of our relatively new initiative -
supporting the work of Clydesdale Food Bank - this also involved a rather large jar of chocolate...
b/ imagined the reaction from someone who might have been present at the 'big picnic'

READINGS: John 6:1-15; John 6:26-51; John 6:52-71

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.

What was it that they hungered for?
They were famished.
Ravenous.
Feeling hollow inside.
Seeking nourishment –
something to chew on:
bread from the soil to settle their rumbling bellies,
and, the bread of heaven to satisfy their souls.
They had heard he was in the area, and so keen were they to see him,
that they travelled for miles about the countryside to find him;
each one with their own reason –
curiosity,
entertainment...
a chance to gawp at this up and coming ‘celebrity’.
Some, perhaps, were just tagging along with pals because they had a large case of ‘FOMO’ –
...Fear Of  Missing Out.
Others had more compelling, more immediate reasons:
having heard stories of signs and wonders perhaps they were hoping for a miracle
in their own life, or the life of a loved one wasting away before their eyes.
There were those drawn for political reasons:
had the time come at last for a deliverer to drive the Romans out –
would Israel be liberated from the occupiers efficiently stripping away the assets
of the land and the resources of its people...
indeed, occasionally enslaving the people?
Empire has always had two sides to its story but often,
only the victors get to tell of greatness and glory.

What was it that they hungered for –
who was it that they were seeking?
A humble rabbi?
A healer of hurts?
A teller of stories?
A heroic deliverer?
For a multitude of reasons each one sought Jesus out,
until, one by one, they became a multitude
which, having found him,
hoped that their hunger,
their need,
would be filled.
We discover, as we listen to the story of Jesus and the 5 000 men –
women and children didn’t count as witnesses in law, 
so their presence went unrecorded for the most part –
we discover that, whatever spiritual, psychological, or political hunger
may have been present among those in the crowd,
at some point, they reach the point of actual physical hunger.
‘Feed them’ says Jesus,
which makes the disciples just a teeny bit twitchy.
And then, Andrew, who had previously brought his brother Simon – later called Peter – to Jesus,
brings a boy to him who is willing to share his lunch.
Andrew, though he’s not sure how it could be done, sees a possibility.
Andrews looks at what they have, not what they lack.
Meanwhile, the boy with a lunch of bread and fish
is happy to let it go, and see what happens.
And both Andrew and the boy,
in the act of seeing possibilities,
in the act of letting go, and sharing...
see the seeming impossible happen:
the crowd is fed –
with more than enough leftovers beside.

The story moves on.
Jesus travels to the other side of the lake.
The crowd, physical hunger satisfied, still hunger for something else –
they follow, and meet him once more.
We move to Jesus teaching in the synagogue -
those listening, very likely contain a number who'd walked out to see him...
The conversation moves:
from bread made from grain to Jesus talking of the bread of heaven –
the bread of life,
the bread that never perishes.
They remember the great story of their ancestors,
who made their long walk to freedom from slavery in Egypt
by spending 40 years in the wilderness.
They remember signs and wonders,
and wonder what sign Jesus will do for them –
for surely he’s a modern-day Moses.
Will there be manna?
‘What miraculous signs will you do, so that we might believe in you?’
A strange question,
having just been fed in the wilderness –
having just been benefactors
of a miraculous sign
that they don’t seem to see.

With the matter of manna raised, Jesus talks of the bread of heaven.
‘It’s what we want – give us this bread!’
And Jesus says:
‘I... am the bread of heaven.’
And the crowd mutters and some say:
‘No you’re not: you’re Jesus, son of Joseph’
and don’t seem to see God in flesh and bone among them.
The crowd gets restive:
oh, they’re still hungry for answers to the meaning of life, or miracles –
they just don’t want the ones presented to them.
They’re stuck.
They can’t let go of their particular ideas about what the Messiah might be like,
or of what the journey of faith might involve.
They can’t see the possibilities presented to them –
can’t move beyond having just eaten a meal of bread and fish,
to explore their deeper hunger for the bread that doesn’t perish.
They grumble.
When Jesus doesn’t conform to their expectations they simply walk away.
Having received the gift of bread, they lose sight of the giver of the gift entirely.

What was it that they hungered for?
Were they looking on the surface –
looking for physical, material, even political needs to be met...
looking for easy solutions to deep-rooted problems?
This teaching of Jesus is ‘too hard’, they say,
as they set off looking,
as they head away having found the spiritual bread unpalatable...
Their hunger will never be met until they can open their hearts and souls and minds
to possibilities;
until they can let go of their preconceptions... 

Last week we heard the parable of the friend
who goes knocking on his neighbour’s door at midnight, asking for, seeking...bread.
He keeps knocking until that neighbour gets up,
gets the bread,
gives it to him,
and sends him on his way.
Jesus says:
‘Ask, seek, knock – the door will be opened.’
The crowd in our story today
were asking,
were seeking,
were knocking...
But, when the door opened they didn’t want that kind of bread –
didn’t like the answer they’d been given.
Jesus, the very bread of life,
offers them the bread that will satisfy their hunger forever
and they close the door on that possibility.

What is it that you hunger for?
Success, fame, wealth?
Maybe peace,
or, perhaps the strength just to get up out of bed to go and face the day?
Do you hunger for things that will scratch an itch here and now...
or something that will last a lot longer?
Or maybe the answer’s a bit of both.
There’s the very real tension of having to live with the needs of now –
so much to juggle,
so many demands.
And yet, as people of faith,
there’s the need to balance those demands
so that you can get to grips with the deeper stuff of life:
to make time for soul food, if you like –
to make time to open your eyes to the miracles all around you;
and make time to be open-minded to the possibilities that might just be within reach,
...to make time to be open-hearted with the blessings you’ve been given
and in doing so, become a part of God’s blessing to others.

Like some in the crowd,
like some of the disciples struggling with Jesus’ teaching,
do you find yourselves sometimes stuck –
only seeing what you don’t have,
not the variation on loaves and fish that you do have?
Or, seeing the limited resources you have,
do you fear to open your hands and share the blessing with others?
By declaring that he is the bread of life,
Jesus is trying to help his listeners,
his followers,
to become unstuck –
to become open;
to see the possibilities of life with God at the centre –
to dare to experience life in all its fullness;
to dare to trust in God’s limitless resources
so that we need not fear lack –
but rather,
to know our God will supply our needs.

What is it that you hunger for?
And, are you prepared to let go,
and let God show you the answer?
Jesus challenges the disciples to see possibilities,
to think differently,
to explore other ways of living in faith,
to take a risk.
Sure, it could have all gone wrong:
they could have ended up looking like idiots when nothing happened,
or when the small morsels given all ran out a couple of people down the line.
Bit by bit, they let go:
of the fear of looking silly,
or of losing their reputations;
even, possibly, of the fear of having to deal with a hungry mob.
Instead, perhaps taking a deep breath as they did so,
they responded to a basic need,
looked around,
shared what they found,
and in the sharing found not only more than enough to eat,
but discovered not only God’s abundance,
but God in their midst meeting their deeper needs.

Martin Luther, the great church reformer, observed that
‘We are all beggars showing other beggars where to find bread.’
That bread is Jesus.
What is it that you hunger for?
As you think on the answer to that,
may you find your needs met this day, and every day,
by the One who is the bread of life,
and may you share that ever-living bread with others. Amen.

Church news - a slew of announcements this morning in worship. 
These will be posted tomorrow on the blog

Sunday sermon: Parables wk 4: 'Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

In our 'thinking about' slot, we were picking up on some school assembly themes this week: talking about how we valued things - does everything come with a price tag?
We thought about different advertising slogans and filled in the blanks e.g. 'A Mars a day helps you... ' etc.
And finally, linking that to our readings - and theme on prayer.
It's easy to have a lot of conversations about what prayer is,
and what we might pray about, but from our gospel passage,
Jesus, encouraging and teaching his disciples to pray, might use the Nike slogan: 'just do it' ...
We also thought that prayer is something that is hard to put a price tag on.
Some of this was later drawn into the sermon.

And, on a side note: the singing in church this morning was absolutely beautiful!!

READINGS: Isaiah 62:6-9 Luke 11:1-13

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.

Way back on the Sunday after Easter in 2016,
we were thinking about the disciples who’d locked themselves into an Upper Room...
Through a locked door, somehow, Jesus joins them rather unexpectedly.
On that day, thinking about doors, I inflicted a stream of shockingly bad
‘knock knock’ jokes upon you.
But...here’s the thing:
given our gospel reading this morning, of the person knocking on his
friend’s door at midnight and, given Jesus’ encouragement to
‘knock and keep on knocking’
well, I’m sorry to have to tell you this,
but, I’ve found a bunch of even worse ‘knock knock’ jokes
and I confess that I'm going to inflict them upon you.
So, brace yourselves, friends, because here we go:
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Figs.
Figs who?
Figs the doorbell, it’s broken!

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Amanda.
Amanda who?
A man da fix your doorbell!

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Annie.
Annie who?
Annie body going to open this door?

Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Troy.
Troy who?
Troy ringin’ da doorbell!

And perhaps this one’s best with a strong Aussie accent:
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Olive.
Olive who?
Olive right next door to you.

Here’s one for our sheep farmers:
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Barbara.
Barbara who?
Barbara black sheep, have you any wool?

And this, for our dairy farmers:
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Cow-go
Cow-go who?
No, Cow go MOO!

Last one, I promise:
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Armageddon.
Armageddon who?
Armageddon the message that it’s probably time to end this game...

Don’t know about you, but I’m a little exhausted after all that!
But, Jesus does say ‘Knock and keep on knocking.’

Both our Old and New Testament passages this morning focus on prayer;
both pick up a theme of being persistent in prayer –
‘just do it’
and, keep on doing it.
Both remind those listening that God wants us to talk to him:
to bring to him our joys, our worries,
our praise, our doubts,
all of the things that make up the stuff of our lives
and the life of the world.
Both passages also remind us that God hears us,
and, that God answers –
though, perhaps if we’re asking for a diamond-encrusted Ferrari,
we might be waiting a long time and, we might want spend that time
reflecting on the things we choose to pray for.
Nevertheless, God answers our needs at the right time.

Our gospel passage from Luke begins with prayer.
Occasionally the question pops up:
‘why bother with prayer?’
Well, in verse one of our text, we find that Jesus is praying:
‘One day, Jesus was praying in a certain place.’
Regardless of all the many questions and conversations around the business of prayer,
basically, if Jesus is doing it,
and if we are to model our lives on him...
well, if it’s good enough for Jesus,
it’s good enough for us.
If it matters enough to Jesus to stop and pray,
then, as his followers, so too, it’s something that we should value and do.
But, how to pray?

Well this has been a question for followers of Jesus not only here and now,
but going all the way back to the disciples.
Jesus finishes his time of prayer and
is immediately asked by them to be taught how to pray.
It’s an expectation of a disciple that their rabbi will teach them this skill
and they flag up that John the Baptist has indeed taught his disciples pray;
‘teach us,’ they ask Jesus.
And so, he does.

Jesus gives them a barebones template – a guideline for prayer:
First, name the one you’re praying to:
‘Father’.
Second, what’s he like:
‘holy.’
Third, ask for the bringing in of God’s kingdom:
because, in so doing, quite a number of other prayer concerns are going to be covered –
when God’s kingdom comes there’ll be an end to injustice, sickness, mourning...
for there’ll also be an end to death.
So, pray for the kingdom and work towards helping to bring that in.
Fourth, look to God to supply your needs:
not the diamond-encrusted Ferrari,
but the daily bread that will sustain you.
Fifth, hand over your mess to God –
confess, say sorry, be forgiven and then you’re free to move on with the business of living.
And sixth, having been forgiven, show that same mercy to others –
the ones who’ve caused you harm.
Don’t store up the hurts and go looking for vengeance –
let it go...
be reconciled if at all possible, and move on.
And finally, seek to stay safe from all those things that distract and deter you
from following in God’s way:
‘don’t take us down that road, God, take us the way that best helps to keep us following.’

It’s a useful template, so useful, that, when blended with the versions from the other gospels,
we end up with the prayer that has been said by Christian communities down through the ages –
our community prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, which we pray every week.

Having given his disciples a lesson on prayer:
first by actually showing by example and doing it himself,
and secondly, by giving a relatively easy structure to follow,
Jesus then widens the lesson –
encourages them to persist in prayer.
Which brings us to our parable this week:
he tells them the story of an annoying friend – a friend in need –
knocking on the door at midnight asking for three loaves of bread;
a friend who just keeps on knocking until he gets an answer.
The formerly sleeping friend,
now very much awake,
gets up,
gets the bread,
opens the door,
and probably very grumpily says:
‘Okay already, here’s the bread: now go away!’

When it comes to prayer,
keep knocking at the door, says Jesus.
Ask, seek, knock:
because the door will be opened.
And, here’s the difference:
unlike that friend who’s been woken from sleep,
and, just as a father won’t give snakes or scorpions to his child when asked for a fish,
so God, the great Heavenly Father is gracious and good.
God is the giver of all good things:
God will meet your needs.
Not only that:
God will do so willingly, cheerfully –
delighting in the fact that you’ve actually stopped and asked.
Not so much ‘okay already, now go away’
but rather
‘Hello! Welcome, I’m so glad you’re here, now, let’s have a chat.’
That door is available to be knocked on 24/7 –
at midnight, midday, or any time between.
Jesus teaches his disciples,
teaches us,
that God is always with us,
always ready to listen,
always ready to help –
sometimes in ways we can’t even imagine.

Why pray?
Well, Jesus did.
But what’s the value in it?
What’s the benefit?
Prayer is stopping:
taking time to hang out with God –
and as we do so,
so it’s a way of growing in faith,
because it’s about strengthening our relationship with God:
the more time we spend together,
the more we get to know the One who knows us completely.
Prayer is a gift given to us by God:
a time to be,
a time to be still;
prayer is a breathing space in the midst of the busyness of our living
and all the demands upon our lives.
It’s about relationship,
it’s about learning to listen – deeply listen;
it’s about discovering how much God loves us –
loves ... you:
God, the Creator of the universe,
has time...
for you,
has time to listen to you,
for you are his beloved.
Prayer is not just bringing a shopping list to God,
even while we do bring our worries and concerns.
Prayer is a time for sifting through what’s important in life –
as the old hymn says 'take it to the Lord in prayer'
and reflect on it together;
prayer also takes us out of our own wee bubble:
a time where we think not only of ourselves and our needs,
but beyond ourselves to the needs of others.
Prayer is a hopeful thing:
praying for a better you,
and a better world:
that God’s kingdom come.
Prayer is giving your stuff to God –
a healing process as you let go
of cares,
of hurts...
giving them over to God,
rather than carrying the burden.

Pray.
And keep on praying.
Even though you’re not sure God’s listening,
even though you’re not sure God’s even there.
Pray.
For God is both with you, and listening, even if you might not feel it.
Sometimes, in what seems the silence,
you’ll find that answer you’ve been looking for,
or discover the strength to make that particular decision you’ve been
hemming and hawing over,
or find comfort in the midst of your pain.
Be still... and know God –
the One who loves you beyond all measure –
who wants so much for you;
who actively wants you
to ask,
to seek,
to knock...
to be in relationship with him.
Ultimately,
prayer is an exercise in believing that you –
even you –
can be loved enough to be listened to completely.
Trust in God’s love,
knock, knock – at his door,
and pray his kingdom come.

Let’s pray:
Lord, teach us to pray:
help us move beyond our discomfort,
our doubts,
our fears,
even our lack of believing that you would
ever want to listen to us.
Teach us your love:
move our sometimes reluctant,
sometimes, weary, feet toward you
that we may better follow you.
Teach us to listen:
to let go of the need
to fill silence with noise,
to fill space with busyness;
help us to ‘be’ –
to be still
and in the stillness,
to know that you are God,
and that we are yours.
Teach us that answers:
can sometimes be dramatic,
can sometimes be immediate,
can sometimes arrive quietly,
can sometimes come slowly, over time...
but that, regardless of how,
regardless of where and when,
that there are answers;
and so teach us to look in both obvious
and less obvious places.
Teach us patience,
teach us to keep knocking on your door
in trust, and with thankfulness.
Lord, teach us to pray:
not just now,
but throughout the course of our lives,
as we follow you.
And, as we follow,
as we seek you and your kingdom,
teach us to give you the glory,
always, and forever.
Amen.

News, info, looking ahead

Faith and film - ‘Les Miserables’ - 5 week discussion group: 

this year’s Lent study features ‘Les Miserables’ as our discussion starter. 

We’ll be showing the film in the manse at 3.30pm Sun 3 March, and thereafter, each week through Lent, there’ll be a discussion group looking at themes from the film that tie in with faith. 

A book ‘Another story must begin’ by Jonathan Meyer [£5.99], will be used to help our discussion. Nikki is happy to order this for you if you’re interested. 

Please let her know if you’d like to join the group/ would like a copy of the book by Sun 24 Feb. 

Time and place for discussion group tbc, but 3.30pm Sundays at the manse is one available option, from wk beg. 10 March

Parish magazine – Easter edition: With 11 weeks to go till Easter, Dee is looking for contributions for our Easter magazine. If you have a story you wish to share - a past Easter that sticks in your mind, or what your favourite Easter hymn/ poem is and why, or anything else on an Easter theme, you have a month until it needs to be submitted to Dee. The deadline is 3 March.

Hospital visits: A wee plea from the Minister: please don’t be shy about letting me know

if folk are in hospital and needing a visit. If it’s at all possible, I really do try my best to visit,

but if I don’t know I can’t go! I’d rather be told several times than not at all, so need your help.

Thanks everyone.

Sun 10 Feb, 9am: Prayer group meets. All welcome.

If you have any particular prayer requests, please leave a note in the prayer box in the vestibule.

Looking ahead:
Wednesday 13 Feb, 2pm: Guild. Our guest speaker will be Dee Yates,
who will be talking about her pilgrimage to Lindisfarne.

Thurs. 14 Feb, ‘Wordworks’ writers group meets up by the fireside at the Colebrooke Arms,
Crawfordjohn. All welcome. Come and share work by a favourite writer,
or bring something you’ve written or are working on.

Sun sermon: parables wk 3 - 'New and old'

READINGS: Galatians 3:1-9, 23-29; Luke 5:27-39

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.

This is a story about another time and a different congregation...

Shona was adorable.
A blue-eyed, golden-haired, friendly wee soul
who would turn up to Sunday School each week –
giving Mummy a moment for herself to take a little breathing space,
drink coffee,
read the paper,
and be thankful for the gift of this one small window in the week
that the church gave her to relax from her duties as a single mum.
They weren’t really a traditional church-going kind of family –
in fact, they’d never really ‘done’ church before, one week, they decided to dip their toes in...
and yet, somehow, Shona’s mum felt welcome –
felt able to bring her daughter and leave her in our care awhile
and we were pleased to be able to give her the space she needed.
It was a happy arrangement all round.

Shona loved singing the songs,
doing the actions –
listening in rapt attention to the stories told each week.
Everything was fresh and new,
and she soaked it all up like a sponge.
This six year old asked great questions,
was a real philosopher,
and came out with some amazing quite ‘out there’ points of view
that also made me see the stories in new ways.
She was a fabulous, gentle, fun, and utterly lovely small person.

One day, Shona arrived –
we both waved to her mum as she headed off,
and then we began to head into church.
But, something was different.
Shona wasn’t quite as chatty as usual.
Instead, she was quiet –
something big was on her mind.
‘So, how are you?’ I asked her.
She looked up at me, very solemnly,
those bright blue eyes big and round and filled with
something that looked a little like ... wonder.
‘Nikki’, she said, in a hushed wee voice,
‘Mmmhmm?’
‘Mummy bought me...,’
there was a wee pause, and then with utter reverence:
‘Mummy bought me ... a bible.’
She was clearly amazed –
this was a special thing.
And it was.
But, in the moment, I forgot her non-church background –
and wanting to know if it was a child-friendly one with piccies,
or another kind altogether, I said to her:
‘That’s lovely. What kind is it?’
The blue eyes grew even rounder, if possible.
And in an awed whisper she said
‘It’s...a holy bible.’ ....

While I learnt a lot from Shona, and hopefully she from me,
that was the day I realised that although
I had also come from a non-church going family,
I’d been in church just long enough
to have settled into a sort of routine,
was happy with the familiar –
comfortable with it...
forgetting that up until 4 years earlier,
everything was as new and fresh to me
as it was to young Shona;
forgetting that the God I worshipped
is also the God of surprises,
the One who makes everything new.

Our readings this morning are a mix of being called into discipleship
and lessons about old and new.
As with last week’s gospel reading, we’re in the early stages of Jesus’ ministry.
And just before his meeting and calling of Levi,
he’s caused quite a stooshie among the Pharisees and teachers of the law –
sometimes referred to as the scribes.
The cause of the commotion centres around a healing:
several friends carry a friend to meet Jesus –
in the hope that he’ll be able to perform a miracle.
When they get to the place, it’s so crowded that the only way for it
is to go up to the roof, dig a hole, and lower their friend through it.
Some of you know the story.
Jesus, impressed by the faith of the friends
first forgives the man from his sins
and then heals him.
The man picks up his mat and can walk away
into new life –
a fresh start.
But it’s not the healing that causes the controversy among the scribes and pharisees,
it’s Jesus’ forgiving the man’s sins.
‘Only God can do that!’ they cry, outraged.
Well, in part, they’re right:
only God can...
they just don’t understand who Jesus is.
To them, he’s done something utterly horrifying:
broken a major commandment punishable by stoning:
they believe he’s committed blasphemy.
It’s at this point that he becomes a marked man by the religious authorities –
and where they begin plotting to destroy this upstart new rabbi.

Immediately following this, we meet Levi.
Levi is a tax collector.
It’s a well-paying job –
because it’s pretty usual to skim extra money for yourself.
It’s also a job not guaranteed to make you popular:
tax collectors are seen, by a community living under Roman occupation, as colluders –
they work for the enemy, the oppressor, are seen as corrupt.
Everyone hates them.
So, having agitated the scribes and pharisees by forgiving the sins of the paralysed man,
it’s interesting that Jesus heads directly toward someone who is very publicly thought of
as the worst of the worst.
‘Follow me’ he says to Levi.
And...
Levi does.
Immediately.
Puts his old life behind him
and strides out into a new life,
a fresh start.

Having been welcomed by Jesus,
so he welcomes Jesus into his home for a meal.
Gathers those friends he does have –
other outcasts and colluders,
a great company of tax collectors  –
and they sit and eat together.
To sit alongside this group and to eat with them
offends the sensibilities of the law-loving scribes and pharisees.
They complain.
But the only thing that they can think of is
to compare Jesus and the disciples
to John the Baptist and his followers.
‘Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners,’
and a little later:
‘John’s disciples fast and pray, and so do the disciples of the pharisees,
but yours go on eating and drinking.’
Basically, Jesus and his disciples just aren’t playing the game:
they’re not following the familiar old rules,
they don’t seem ... ‘religious’ enough.

Now the scribes and pharisees aren’t necessarily the bad guys –
they very much want to live a life of faith,
they very much want to follow God.
They study the holy writings,
see the holiness codes laid down:
the Ten Commandments given to Moses, and the many other laws.
They very much want to get it right –
they learn every law,
they do their best not to break a single one.
They are so scrupulous, that when it comes to giving a tenth of all they have,
they even carefully measure and weigh every herb –
you can almost see them with their scissors and a handful of chives,
cutting exactly a tenth off for God.
These guys are precise –
and have become so focused upon following the law...
that they’ve forgotten the other side of faith:
if an animal falls in a ditch on the Sabbath,
even though it’s suffering, they won’t break the law to help it.
If a person is needing help on the Sabbath...
well that’s not going to happen either.
They’ve forgotten to balance law with mercy and compassion.
They’re so focused on getting it right and following rules
that their lives have become completely focused upon the rules themselves –
in the process, they’ve lost sight of the One who gave the rules as a helpful way of living.

Into their ordered, incredibly regulated lives comes Jesus –
doing things differently,
and, in the process, challenging everything they hold dear;
challenging the old ways of doing things;
daring to suggest that perhaps some of these ways are no longer helpful...
introducing new things,
reminding them and everyone around him
that there are many ways of following God:
it’s less about laws and more about the heart.
And that’s the context in which we find our parable about
new wine and old wineskins,
of new cloth on old.

It’s easy to get into a routine,
to get comfortable:
I suspect that human beings, for the most part, have always been creatures of habit,
feel better when we know what to expect:
not everybody dreams of finding themselves at the centre of a surprise party.
We know what we like, and we like what we know.
But how does that work for us, as a community of faith?
How do we worship, and live, with that tension of both
worshipping the God of the ages
and the One who makes all things new –
the God of surprises,
who, not only brought the world into being,
but who overturned natural law and brought life bursting forth from a grave –
our resurrection God?
Sometimes, are we ourselves in danger in focusing only upon the familiar,
and what we feel is the only correct way to worship God and live out our faith,
that we slightly lose sight of the God who calls us to be his people?
And, just as an aside, it’s interesting when you read Paul’s Letter to the Galatians:
here’s a young Christian community –
and even so early on, this fledgling community
has very quickly gone back to the old ways of doing things.
It’s so very easy to do.
But, what might we miss about who God is
and how God impacts on our lives,
our neighbourhood, and our world,
if we stay only with what we know?

Some of those questions are what the Local Church Review process
over the last year have been trying to explore a little more deeply.
We’ll be unpacking some of the reflections from that long process
at our Annual Stated Meeting in May.
But some questions to ponder, as we think about Jesus’ parable:
In the face of a rapidly changing society
with very different patterns from even 20 years ago,
how do we stay faithful to that old, old story,
yet embrace new ways of telling it
that make sense to the Shona’s
and the Levi’s of the world,
as much as it does to us?
That’s the challenge that the wider church, and the local church face.

Given that presently there are nearly 250 vacant charges in the Church of Scotland –
the majority of them, rural –
with about a third of current ministers due to retire within the next 5 to 10 years,
our own old ways of doing things are going to need to change right around Scotland.
For us, as a community:
how do we face that challenge head on together?
Rather than just letting changes happen,
how might we be the ones who determine what changes might best be suited
to being God’s people here in this place?
How might we go about making room for beloved traditions,
leaving some unhelpful ones behind,
and taking on finding new ways
of being a worshipping community –
God’s people in a changing world?
And, how might we show the generosity of grace
to one another in the midst of change,
when some prefer expressing their faith in one way, and others, in different ways?
Oddly, though, these are questions that have been asked all down through the centuries.

We’ve some interesting challenges ahead of us as a community,
and possibly, that comes with a mix of fear, discomfort, and, sometimes, resentment,
but also -  I’d like to think – it comes with hopeful curiosity.
While change for change-sake is often pointless,
change for God’s-sake always has a point:
it’s always about learning to follow him,
and about finding ways to share the good news of the kingdom:
sometimes using tried and tested old ways,
and sometimes trying new and different ways.
We’re in this together, and God is with us every step we take:
we walk forward in faith,
and pray for God’s guidance,
as worshipping communities have always done down through the ages...
And as we do so:
to God be the glory –
in all our thinking, our speaking, and our doing, this day and every day. Amen.

News, info, looking ahead

A relatively quiet week this week, so flagging up some items for the diary a little further on:

Sun 10 Feb, 9am: Prayer group meets. All welcome.
If you have any particular prayer requests, please leave a note in the prayer box in the vestibule.

Wednesday 13 Feb, 2pm: Guild. Our guest speaker will be Dee Yates,
who will be talking about her pilgrimage to Lindisfarne.

Thurs. 14 Feb, ‘Wordworks’ writers group meets up by the fireside at the Colebrooke Arms,
Crawfordjohn. All welcome. Come and share work by a favourite writer,
or bring something you’ve written or are working on.

Hospital visits: A wee plea from the Minister: please don’t be shy about letting me know
if folk are in hospital and needing a visit. If it’s at all possible, I really do try my best to visit,
but if I don’t know I can’t go! I’d rather be told several times than not at all, so need your help.
Thanks everyone.

Sunday sermon: Parables wk 2 'Firm foundations'

READINGS: Ps 18:1-5, 16-19, 30-32;  Luke 6:46-49

SERMON ‘Firm foundations’
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth, and the thoughts of all our hearts, be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our deliverer. Amen.

Once upon a time, there were three little pigs.
I think you know the story...
Each of the pigs is set upon building a home.
And each of the pigs have quite different thoughts about how they’ll build their home.
The first pig is quite the eco-warrior;
he decides to build his house from cheap, renewable, non-polluting,
environmentally-friendly, recyclable materials.
Having done extensive research,
our eco-pig comes up with a plan to use
a common product born as a result of intensive arable farming...
otherwise known as straw.
More excited by the products he’ll be using to build,
he forgets some simple basic building protocols...
or:
cuts a few corners, because he’s not that patient.
The wondrous eco-house is built,
our eco-pig moves in and turns the house into a cheerful home
and begins to dream of building an organic baking business.

The second pig is impressed by his friend’s efforts, but is more one for the rustic romantic look.
He opts for a wood cabin and dreams of running a logging business.
So caught up with the plans for his business,
he’s not so bothered about some essential small details about house-building –
he gets some dodgy pals to crack on,
while he heads off to explore the ins and outs of forestry.
On his return, the wood cabin is ready and he happily moves in.

The third pig...
well, she’s more of a details person.
She’s been watching her friends and their house building projects
and doing her own research.
The eco-friendly idea is important to her, but she heads in a different direction,
using the straw as insulation.
She’s less bothered about a wood cabin:
she loves the idea of a stone cottage but the wood’s useful though for interior decorating.
Knowing the area is prone to fierce storms,
she spends time making sure she’s dug deep foundations.
Finally the house is built.
...It’s absolutely charming.

The council, as they do, send around the building inspector, an odd chap -
quite a lot of facial hair,
a long pointy nose,
and with a hungry look in his eye.
You know how this goes:
after a lot of hot air, the only house left standing is the house of pig number three –
she of the stone cottage built on strong foundations,
who has also found herself with two unexpected house guests.

I don’t know about you, but so often, when I come across Jesus’ parable
of the wise and foolish builders,
the story of the three little pigs comes into my head at some point!
But instead of three pigs, we’ve two people:
both want to build houses,
both going about the job in very different ways,
and both ending up with very different outcomes.
Cutting corners doesn’t pay off in the case of the foolish man:
building a house –
one of life’s major investments –
is done in such a slap-dash, thoughtless manner
that it all, quite literally, comes tumbling down when rough weather comes in.
Also, it's never a great idea to build a house on a flood plain.
Like the old Sunday School song says:
‘the rains came down 
and the floods came up...
and the house on the sand fell flat.’
There’s nothing there for the house to hold onto, and so the water washes it away.
In the case of the wise man –
well, he’s listened, he’s taken advice, and he’s acted upon it:
he makes sure his house is built on a firm foundation –
built securely on the rock, not the sand.
He’s making sure this life investment is just that:
something that lasts for life.
And as the song goes:
‘the house on the rock stood firm.’

Our parable from last week –
the story of the tricky tenants –
took place in the last week of Jesus’ life.
Today’s parable comes relatively early in Jesus’ ministry.
You’ll find it both here in Luke, and in the Gospel of Matthew.
And it’s set at the end of what we know as the Sermon on the Mount.
It’s not long since Jesus has called the disciples –
and has chosen twelve to be his inner group of followers and helpers, calling them ‘apostles’.
They have been selected for deeper training –
for they will be the ones who will be sent to tell everyone about Jesus.
Meanwhile, news of Jesus has already been spreading around the area –
wherever he goes, people are flocking to him.
After spending some time healing, Jesus settles down for a time of teaching:
the basic themes cover God’s blessing and how to love and follow God –
both good basic building blocks for the foundations of the faith.
As ever, with Jesus, though, he turns everyday perceptions on their head.

As he teaches about blessing you’d probably notice
a ripple of surprise among his listeners.
The commonly held belief was that you could tell who God blessed quite easily:
they were the ones who were rich, beautiful,
who were famous,
who were powerful.
Clearly, they must have been people of fantastic faith to have been so blessed.
But Jesus isn’t having any of that.
This is all surface stuff:
riches could be lost,
looks would fade with time,
fame could be fleeting:
one day you could be popular with the crowds,
another you could be yesterday’s news;
and power – well, put one little foot wrong,
and you could easily be overthrown by someone
hungry to build their own small empire  and sphere of influence.
Sure, there were plus points,
sure, there’s nothing wrong with creature comforts...
but they were not the basis upon which to show what true blessing looked like.
Instead, Jesus encourages his listeners to look deeper:
sometimes the very ones you think are not blessed are the real holders of God’s blessing –
those who are poor,
those who hunger,
those who weep,
those who are despised and excluded:
God is on the side of those who are truly
in need of blessing –
such as these are welcome in God’s kingdom.

His teaching also overturns the usual expectations of how to treat enemies:
to follow God is to follow the way of love.
As with last week’s parable,
here Jesus encourages his listeners to break the cycle of violence.
Don’t hate and harm your enemies:
do the harder thing –
love them.
And actually, when you’re able to forgive, you’re able to move on with living.
Hatred and vengeance only imprison you in a pattern of deathly behaviour –
choose life,
choose love, says Jesus.
And shares that great classic piece of wisdom:
‘do to others as you would have them do to you.’

Other top tips for following in the faith:
don’t be Judgy McJudgerson;
forgive others;
be generous – give to others;
stop and look at how you’re living and work on that,
rather than pointing out the faults of others.
It’s all sound teaching:
things to work on that bring you closer to God,
and closer to your neighbours –
things that bring peace and harmony and good relationships.
And, Jesus add that, as you work on following God’s way,
you’ll produce fruit that is recognisably of God’s kingdom.
Jesus is basically saying to his listeners that it’s not enough just
to say ‘I’ll follow’,
to say ‘Lord, Lord!’
it’s about digging in and acting upon what you’re saying –
both talking the talk
and walking the walk of faith.
What you do demonstrates who you are and what you believe –
your core values.

There’s a show I watch called ‘Vikings’
and this week’s episode had a useful example of deeply built foundations
on the part of two different characters.
One has been raised as a Viking, serving the old gods;
the other, although the son of a Viking, has been raised among the Christian British.
For political and pragmatic reasons,
both forsake the faith they’ve been brought up in and change religion.
What’s interesting is that, for both, in a time of deep crisis,
they go back to the faith of their childhood –
the former Christian, in the middle of a storm at sea, fearful for his life,
once more calls upon the name of Christ.
When challenged with:
‘Oh, so you’re a Christian again?’
although he denies it,
the reality is that... at some core level,
no matter how conflicted he may be...
still, his life’s foundations have been built on Christ.
His challenge is now to find a way of
living in harmony with his words and his actions and his faith.

Having talked about some basic foundational matters of the faith,
we find Jesus finishing up by telling his listeners a story.
It’s a way of summing up why it’s important to practice the faith –
why words by themselves are not enough:
actions matter –
both work together.
We hear a story of two builders...
Those listening to the story understand that the story is a metaphor for life –
and for living the life of faith:
if you take shortcuts things may go on cheerfully for a wee while,
but, when difficulties happen what have you got to draw on?
At times such as these, if you’ve not done some faith foundation building,
there’s often a loss of faith.
But, if you follow Jesus’ teaching –
his guidance for helping you to navigate the faith
will also help you to navigate life itself when hard challenges come.
You’ll have built a solid core –
where you can dig down and know the solid presence of the
One who is our rock.

It’s something that King David understood.
Although flawed and very capable of making mistakes – like all of us –
David had a real heart for God:
he was a man whose foundations were very much built upon God.
This passionate, energetic man, who had a tendency to jump into things with both boots on,
nevertheless knew that no matter how much he got it wrong,
that he was loved by God,
and that he could return to God.
That in the good times, and in the bad,
God was the solid rock upon which he could stand.

Jesus’ story of the builders reminds us that the journey of faith is not easy –
God is with us, of course –
and we have to remember not only to say that we are with God,
but in our living,
in our being,
in our actions,
to demonstrate that we are with God.
As we do so, we build up resilience:
a faith that gives us the strength to cope when those storms of life do blow in –
relationship worries,
job concerns,
dealing with the effects of possible economic downturns in the face of impending Brexit,
health issues,
climate change,
the many kinds of loss we can experience...

In his teaching, Jesus overturns some of his listeners thinking about life.
His is an invitation to encounter God in a different way,
by living life in a completely different way.
Choosing to take up the invitation gives us
‘not only the strength in the present to withstand the various storms...
but also the final great storm that sees us through to an eternity with the Lord,
and for whom we have lived a life of devotion.' [Richard Beaton]
Amen.

Sunday sermon: Parables - wk 1: Tricky tenants

This week we begin four weeks exploring some of the parables of Jesus.

READINGS: Ps 118:15-29;  Matthew 21:33-46

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 little over two weeks ago, with some pals,
I found myself looking out on an uninterrupted, open horizon.
Limitless.
Here and there, blue herons majestically pushed through the sky,
the occasional hawk hovered on high
looking down for tiny movements and lunch possibilities;
insects cricked and clicked and crept quietly.
Tiny islets with stubby trees and shrubs and delicate, purple orchids
occasionally broke the mile after mile of tall, waving grassland and winding, watery trails.

From the middle of the Everglades, sitting still for a moment on a flying boat,
you suddenly realise just how immense a place it is.
Sure, I’d looked at the map before I headed off for my wee adventure,
and yes, saw the amount of space it took up,
but only when put together –
the overview, and the being in –
truly gave it context.
It was one of the most astonishing places I’d ever been to,
and riding on an airboat with a few friends and a fab guide
was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had the privilege of doing.

Also giving the place context, was Christian, our guide –
born and brought up in the area.
He held an invisible map of the place in his head,
knew the story of the great, grassy wetland and its creatures –
put them within their context.
A multi-layered story of time and place,
creature and creation.
Limitless in more than just the geographical.
Connected, even, or perhaps because of, the vastness.
...I’ll be thinking of that place for a long time.

And so it is with scripture:
each week, we hear chapters and verses;
hear of people and situations from long ago:
so many layers,
so many stories.
Sometimes it’s easy to take a thing from scripture
and so focus in on a word or a phrase,
that we forget to step back and ask:
how does this fit in with the overall story –
the story of God’s relationship with people,
and of our relationship with God,
and with one another?

In our text from Matthew, we hear of a landowner who decides to plant a vineyard –
a place that will produce fruit in the right time,
with the right conditions,
with the right people.
But within the story are echoes of other stories -
a story of beginnings:
where a garden was made and planted in love
and people placed there to tend and care for it.
A story of rebellion.
The landowner of the parable discovers his tenant farmers are violent, destructive, greedy.
The Creator of the 1st garden finds that the people think they know best,
and perhaps, have an unhealthy desire to become as gods themselves –
there’s a hunger for knowledge.
That’s not bad in and of itself, but what’s the motivation?
Because in this case, the hunger seems unhealthy, unwise.
And, with knowledge comes power, and when knowledge and power
are taken to be used in the wrong way –
that’s a recipe for disaster.
We only have to look around the news to see some of the very current evidence of that.
So much brokenness from so much use of power without responsibility,
or care for consequences.

As we explore scripture with a wide lens,
we see the unfolding story of God’s desire to restore and heal
the broken relationship with humanity –
a relationship rupture that has also broken humanity itself:
people putting themselves above others -
people pitting themselves against others;
fear, greed, and the desire for power
fighting against the way of faith, generosity,
and the desire for peace and harmony and justice –
the common good.
In the midst, at the centre, is God, ever- patient, ever calling.
First, he sends his servants, the prophets, to call humanity back to him.
Some are beaten –
Jeremiah gets thrown down a well;
some are killed.
And in the end, God sends his son among us to call us back,
and to show us how to be more fully human –
a little like the new Gillette ad:
not just to be the best a man can get,
but the best a man can be...
the best a human can be:
the unlimited potential of being fully alive in God.

And, as we explore scripture through the
more focused lens of our parable, we see the great overarching story drawn in microcosm.
Here the landowner is exceptionally patient.
Having created the ideal conditions for growth for the vineyard,
and placed his tenants to tend the place,
they decide to take matters into their own hands –
and forget the one who created the vineyard
and ensured it would flourish,
so that they would also flourish.
Now they want it all –
and the landowner can go hang,
and if they have to use violence to show him they mean business, well, they will.
As with the unfolding history of God’s relationship with humanity,
so we see the unfolding relationship and actions
of these tenants to the landowner.
Servants are sent to gather their master’s share.
Like the prophets, they’re beaten or killed.
The cycle of violence continues when more servants are sent,
until, in the end, the landowner sends his son.
...Wait...
Given what’s happened, that seems totally mad, doesn’t it?
To us, yes.
But actually, no.
We’re looking into a time where status was important:
it’s an honour culture.
While the tenants may have no respect for the servants, they would, normally,
pay some heed to the authority of the landowner’s son.
I did say normally:
however, there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of normal with these particular tenants.
But, hang on to that word, ‘authority’
and let’s look at when and where and why
Jesus is telling this Vineyard story.

The story is told in the temple grounds a couple of days
after Jesus has entered Jerusalem to great acclaim and cheers –
what we refer to on Palm Sunday as ‘the triumphant entry’.
This is the week in which Jesus will die.
And it’s the day after he’s upset the religious authorities by
overturning the tables in the temple grounds where
market stalls selling overpriced doves for sacrifices abound;
where money changers ply their trade because, ordinary money
has to be exchanged for temple money – and at extortionate rates:
so many ways in which to fleece the faithful –
and line the pockets of the less scrupulous of those working at the temple.
In his actions of driving out the stall holders,
Jesus has called out corruption in a big way –
actually, he’s been doing that all through his ministry.
And every step of the way, his own authority has been questioned by...
the religious authorities.

Just before our text, he’s been challenged again –
and the parable is part of his response to this challenge:
a parable about thinly disguised authorities acting as stumbling blocks,
in fact, rejecting the very cornerstone of the faith.
In the parable, the son, who should be honoured, is killed.
In the temple, the Son, who should be honoured, is marked for death.
In the parable, the son is taken outside the walls of the vineyard and killed.
In the day of reckoning, Jesus is taken outside the walls of Jerusalem and killed.
Both parable, and parallel.
Both within, and without the parable,
we see the cycle of violence continue.
But if we focus only on the parable,
and don’t pull back to reveal the bigger picture, the more open horizon,
that’s all we’re left with:
rebellion, violence, death –
rinse, wash, repeat.
Jesus asks his listeners:
‘So, what do you think that landowner will do?’
You can almost hear his listeners going:
‘Destroy the miserable wretches.’
Well, that’s what you do, isn’t it?
That’s the way of things.
That’s the parable and on you go.

However, by putting the parable into its place in the bigger story,
we find something startling,
something different happening.
‘So, what do you think that landowner will do?’
Not meet violence with violence,
but meet it with love.
Not end with death,
but with life.
God rewrites the story
for God can see beyond the horizon
and has limitless possibilities and imagination to draw upon
in his desire to call humanity back into relationship with him.
In Jesus,
God, the creator of the world –
God, the maker of the vineyard –
breaks the cycle of violence and death.
No more.
Enough.
In the bigger story of God’s eternal, ongoing love for us,
even death can be overcome by love.
‘Rather than return violence for violence, ...in the crucifixion of Jesus, 
God absorbs our violence and responds with life,
with...resurrection,
with Jesus triumphant over death and offering not retribution, but peace.’ [David Lose]

This is less a parable about some tricky tenants,
and more the wider story of Jesus authority,
and of God’s love,
and of the invitation to follow –
to walk into freedom and life,
and to flourish –
to give the world a little foretaste of heaven by producing the fruit of the kingdom –
even here, even now:
kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness...
love that seeks peace and restoration and healing,
and which brings light and life to the world –
and the joy of limitless horizons –
even beyond the seemingly limitless horizons of the Everglades.

What kind of fruit do you want to produce:
a bitter harvest
or the better harvest?
If you’ve been putting God a little to the side in your life,
if you feel you’ve been a little complacent in your walk of faith
then perhaps today is a great day
to taste and see that the Lord is good,
to get reacquainted with God,
and to grow in him.
Amen.

News, info, contacts 2 - 17 Jan

The Minister will be unavailable from 

Tues 1 Jan to Wed 16 Jan

Urgent pastoral cover will be provided by the Rev. George Shand of the Tinto Parishes. His number is 
For general parish queries, please contact Heather Watt, our Session Clerk on 

What's On?
Morning worship:
Sun 6 Jan, 10.30 - we welcome Mrs Jane Fucella as she conducts worship for us. Jane lived for many years in Thailand, working in mission alongside her husband, Mike. She now lives in Biggar, where Mike serves as parish minister.

Wed 9 Jan, 2.30 - the Annual Guild Afternoon Tea will be held in the church hall. The meeting is open and all are welcome to come along. Please let Mary Hamilton know if you'd like to come along.
Cost is £5 for tea and entertainment.

Sun 13 Jan, 10.30 - we welcome the Rev. Bill Buchan who will conduct worship this morning. Bill previously served as parish minister at Kilwinning Abbey Church of Scotland, before retiring. He and his wife have recently moved to Biggar to be near family.

JUST IN CASE OF SNOW:
Subject to severity, worship may be cancelled. Before setting out, check in with Heather Watt, the Session Clerk, who will be consulting with the Session - she can advise as to any cancellations.
The most important thing is:
if the weather comes in and snow falls heavily, please stay safe.

Christmas services information

SPECIAL SERVICES...

Sun 23 Dec. 10.30am:
'Looking forward to Christmas' -
all-age, less formal worship this morning, for the young and the young at heart.

Mon 24 Dec. 11pm:
'Winter warm up' -
In the bleak midwinter, preparing for Watchnight,
warm yourself up with a hot cuppa and mince pies in the church hall, Abington...
and then:
11.30pm-12.10am: Watchnight service in the church featuring friends from
Leadhills Silver Band. Join us as we welcome in the Christ-child and sing in
Christmas morning.

Sun 30 Dec. 10.30am:
A service of lessons and carols - 
the traditional re-telling of the Christmas story through readings and songs

Sunday 16 Dec, Advent 3: Important births - 'John the Baptist'

READINGS: Luke 1:5-25; Luke 1:57-66; Luke 1:67-80

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 little earlier we lit our third Advent candle thinking of the theme ‘joy’ ...
Joy.
It’s a word that, for me, has an immediate link to the comedian,
Rikky Fulton and his great creation, the Rev. I. M. Jolly who is anything but jolly and joyful in look and in attitude.
And so friends, today, I get to say his immortal words:
‘Hullo...  today we’re thinking about...   ‘joy’'
It’s such an old sketch, but it still gives me the giggles – because it was so beautifully done.
So, today, we’re going to think about joy – joy and John the Baptist.
And rather than a long, depressed, I. M. Jolly reflection, let’s begin with some really
diabolically bad... I mean, fabulous, John the Baptist jokes –
because, yes, there are some floating about.
Are you ready?
Then here we go:
What do Winnie the Pooh and John the Baptist have in common?
A/ They have the same middle name.

Why did John the Baptist take his shoes off before going into the water?
A/ He wanted to save soles!

Thinking about the young John:
Little Johnny's mother looked out the window and noticed him
"playing church" with their cat.
He had the cat sitting quietly and he was preaching to it.
She smiled and went about her work.
A while later she heard loud meowing and hissing
and ran back to the open window to see Johnny baptizing the cat in a tub of water.
She called out,
"Johnny, stop that! The cat is afraid of water!"
Johnny looked up at her and said,
"He should have thought about that before he joined my church."

And the last one, this when John was older:
John the Baptist used to walk through the desert in his bare feet.
This left his feet tough, which is understandable –
the hot sand and rough terrain would leave anyone's feet tough.
He was known to receive signs from God and occasionally perform mystical feats.
He subsisted on a diet of locusts and honey.
Without access to dental hygiene at the time, this left him with somewhat bad breath.
It also left him frail, as the diet wasn't varied and would have required an immense
intake of food to be remotely sustained.
I guess that you could say that he was...
okay, are you ready it...I'm really, really, sorry...:
a super-callused fragile mystic vexed with halitosis.

I could keep telling jokes, but you might just stone me.
So, joy, and John the Baptist:
In our first reading, we meet Zechariah, John’s dad.
He’s a priest, and when we meet him, it’s his turn to serve in the Temple.
There he is, going about his job in this most holy of places when God shows up:
or, more precisely, God’s messenger, the angel, Gabriel.
It’s occasionally amused me that Zechariah, a servant of God,
is actually surprised to have an experience of God in what is the house of prayer,
but, nevertheless, he is.
On the other hand, if we're being generous, perhaps it’s a lesson in not taking God for granted.
The angel tells Zechariah that he and his wife, though now quite elderly,
shall have a child, a son.
And there are conditions placed upon the way this child is to live out his life:
he is never to touch wine, or fermented drink of any kind...
Now, for those of you here last week, does this story not rather have
very strong echoes of the birth story of Samson?
In this case, however, the son will not be a deliverer of God’s people,
rather, he’ll prepare them for the coming of God’s deliverer – the Messiah long foretold.
Further, Zechariah is told by the angel what name to give to the child –
and, as we discover later, it’s not a name that has ever done the rounds
of that particular family group.
This new child will have a new name – marking him out as special.
The angel also tells Zechariah that John will be
‘a joy and a delight’ to Zechariah and Elizabeth,
but the joy doesn’t stop there:
many will rejoice because of John’s birth.
What amazing news.

So, there Zechariah stands:
in the temple,
in the holiest place in the temple,
faced with God’s messenger, the angel, Gabriel, hearing this incredible message.
Now, remember, when angels tend to appear to folk in the bible,
the first thing they often say is:
‘Do not be afraid...’
Angels, clearly, are pretty imposing beings.
But there's no real indication that Zechariah actually *is* afraid.
Instead, having seen the angel and heard the news, Zechariah says:
‘How can I be sure this is true?’
Seriously??
A plaguey great angel is standing there in front of him and he asks this?
And, as we heard in our reading, Gabriel pretty much responds with:
‘Okay, how about this – I’ll cause you not to be able to speak for a while.’
Effectively an angelic ‘time-out’ for Zechariah to use to do a little deeper reflecting.
Eventually, he emerges from the Temple –
and, because he’s been in there so long,
and he’s suddenly lost his ability to speak,
everyone there knows something’s happened.
Despite his speech problems, he still manages to communicate
to Elizabeth what’s gone on
and, what’s going to happen.
She accepts the news, and, in a little foreshadowing of Mary’s story shortly after,
Elizabeth says, as Mary will also:
‘The Lord has shown his favour to me.’

At the right time, this special child is born –
and again we have this theme of joy coming in:
it’s not just Zechariah and Elizabeth who are joyful – the whole community shares the joy.
But what to name the child?
All sorts of family names are suggested by family and friends –
so, when Zechariah affirms Elizabeth in the choice of the name ‘John’ everyone is surprised.
It’s at that point when Zechariah’s long silence is broken.
And his first words?
A wonderful song of joy:
from ‘how can I be sure’ to a joy-filled affirmation of faith.
To a nation under Roman captivity, Zechariah’s song declares God’s faithfulness:
that God will come and save his people,
that God has not forgotten them,
that God has chosen them to serve him without fear –
unlike having to kow-tow to their Roman masters for fear of retribution.

Zechariah then sings of his son, and the role that John will have in God’s plan:
he will be a prophet,
he will prepare the way for the Lord –
by teaching God’s people of God’s mercy and forgiveness;
by pointing them to the light that shines even in the darkest places,
even in the shadow of death.
John, the prophet,
will guide them to the way –
Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life;
Jesus, upon whom the hope of  all God’s people is founded;
Jesus, the Prince of peace, who will lead God’s people to the path of peace –
where there will be no more war,
no more being crushed under the heel of earthly Emperors and empires,
where there will be no ‘other’ only brothers, and sisters.
John, the one who will be a joy and a delight to Zechariah and Elizabeth,
and be a cause of rejoicing to many,
will lead God’s people to joy –
to Jesus,
the One who is the joy of all God’s people:
for in him there is freedom, life, liberation.

In this season of Advent, John still points the way for us,
the way to Jesus, the Way –
John beckons us, as God’s people
to follow the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life;
he calls us to prepare our hearts,
to make room,
to let in ...not just... a happy feeling, for feelings come and go...
but that great, deep, profound joy that only Jesus can give:
a joy based upon God’s great faithfulness,
a joy that shines not just in the good times,
but shines in the hard places we find ourselves;
a joy that comes from serving God not out of fear, but from being loved.
This is the good news, which causes us to not only love and serve God,
but the whole of creation, and all humankind –
not for our own gain, but for sheer love’s sake.
It’s a joy that has at its heart the knowledge that
we are God’s and that we are not forgotten.
As you continue to watch and wait and prepare once more
to remember the coming of the Christ-child,
may you hear John’s message of joy,
may his message unsettle you in a good and curious way
so that you seek to know more of the deep, profound, and real joy of the God
who casts away fear
and calls us all to transform the world in love. Amen.

Special services over the Christmas period....

SPECIAL SERVICES...

Sat 15 Dec. 2pm:
'Tidings of comfort and joy' -
a quiet service in the church at Abington, where we remember loved ones who, for whatever reason, won't be home for Christmas.
Refreshments in the hall after.

Sun 16 Dec. 6.30pm:
'Scotland's highest carol service' -
Join us this year in Leadhills Village Hall. Featuring music from our friends in the Leadhills Silver Band.
Sing along to your favourite carols in Scotand's 2nd highest village [we alternate!]

Sun 23 Dec. 10.30am:
'Looking forward to Christmas' -
all-age, less formal worship this morning, for the young and the young at heart.

Mon 24 Dec. 11pm:
'Winter warm up' -
In the bleak midwinter, preparing for Watchnight,
warm yourself up with a hot cuppa and mince pies in the church hall, Abington...
and then:
11.30pm-12.10am: Watchnight service in the church featuring friends from
Leadhills Silver Band. Join us as we welcome in the Christ-child and sing in
Christmas morning.

Sun 30 Dec. 10.30am:
A service of lessons and carols - 
the traditional re-telling of the Christmas story through readings and songs