News and events wk beg. 27 August

A round up of news and events coming up:

Sun 2 Sept, 10.30am: Communion service.
All are welcome to share in the bread and wine at the table of the Lord. It is Jesus who invites us to gather as his friends and remember, so come, whether it’s been a while, or more recently. All who are baptised, young or old or somewhere in between, are welcome to the feast. Please let friends and neighbours know.

Also, from this Sunday - Food Bank Donations Box:

‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was 

thirsty and you gave me something to drink’  Matt. 25:35 

Beginning from 2 September, we will have a box in which to leave dry/ tinned goods of food, or toiletries, for the Clydesdale Food Bank. If you have items to donate, that would be excellent: we shall make sure they get to their destination!

Sat 8 Sept, 10.30-12pm: ANNUAL CHURCH COFFEE MORNING.
Our coffee morning returns to Roberton Village Hall, featuring morning tea, tombola, home baking stall, and more. Come along, bring your friends, to this annual fun and fundraiser for the church. If you’re willing and able to make donations of home baking or prizes for the tombola, please see Mary Hamilton or other members of the Social Committee. And thanks in advance for your support.

Sun 9 Sept 10.30AM: SONGS OF PRAISE SERVICE & GUILD DEDICATION SERVICE
It’s coming up to that time of year once more: time to think about some of your favourite hymns, and nominate them for inclusion for this year’s Songs of Praise Service. Last nominations to be in by the end of morning tea on Sun 2 Sept.  During our service, we’ll also be rededicating our Guild, as they begin their programme for another year.

100th Anniversary of end of World War I: Remembrance Day project – 

Calling all knitters and crocheters: Would you be willing to help make some poppies to create a Remembrance Sunday Banner, as we mark the Centenary of the end of the Great War? If you can help, see Nikki or Heather. After Remembrance Sunday, we’d like to sell them for a suggested minimum donation of £1 or more, to raise money for Poppy Scotland and Help for Heroes

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Food for the journey: spiritual nourishment for the week ahead

One of our readings for Sunday was Ephesians 6:10-20 - Paul encouraging the Ephesian Christians to put on God's armour to enable them to help follow in faith.
Feel free to read over the passage, and then, should you wish, make use of the following questions for reflection over the course of the week:

What armour do Christians need in today’s world?
Do we – as a community – use all the armour God gives?
How can we be more effective in ‘standing firm together’?

A prayer for strength: 
Lord God, Paul didn’t let the fact that he was physically in chains stop him from serving you. We may have chains of a different kind. We pray that whatever we see as our chains, our limitations, our obstacles, our weaknesses, we will know your leading through the trials of our lives; and that, equipped with your armour, we will work together for you. Amen.

Sermon, Sun 26 Aug: 'You've gotta serve somebody'

READINGS: Joshua 24: 1-4, 11-18; Psalm 34:15-22;
Ephesians 6:10-20

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 last week was the second week of the new school year, and,
for some of our schools, the first time for school assemblies.
I’d been asked to pick up on the theme of thinking about ‘new things’ with the students:
new experiences,
new skills to pick up,
new school work to learn.
For some, a new teacher,
for others, new friends;
and, in the case of a couple, a whole new school to get used to.
I kicked off my time with the students by asking a very carefully phrased question –
‘How did you get into school today?’
Quick as a flash, up went several hands.
A small person replied: ‘The bus’
Others nodded in agreement.
I smiled at them and asked them to listen to the question very carefully once again:
‘How did you get into school today?’
There was a pause, and then a lightbulb moment,
followed by some grins, a few giggles, and a wee chorus of:
‘Ohhh! The door!’
‘Absolutely!’ said I, ‘think of the mess the bus would make! 
And that’d be a shame, given it’s a nice new school!’
Cue laughter.
Pushing my luck, I grinned at them and asked:
‘Okay, and how will you get out of school today?’
And, with a laugh, a small boy cried out:
‘Reverse the bus!’
It was beautifully done,
and there was much hilarity and it was great fun -
said boy is the grandson of one of the congregation, and that's all I'll give away.

We then spent time thinking and looking at a whole variety of doors –
wondering who, or what, might be found behind them, and, thinking about
how we’d feel if we had to go through the door.
All of it, was, of course, to talk about new things –
and what it felt like to be on one side and move to the other –
from being used to the familiar, to doing something unfamiliar –
the challenge of the new.

Doors ... take us places.
It might just be to the broom cupboard,
or, as in the case of the book, ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,’
it might just be to an entirely different world.
Doors:
sometimes made of wood, or glass, or metal.
But other times, doors are less physical:
think of Hogmanay and standing at the gate of the year –
time as a door.
Or, think of doors of opportunity –
having the possibility to do something,
a new thing,
a new experience.
Something that may completely change your life.
And, there, standing on the threshold,
you may be experiencing a whole range of emotions and thoughts:
Do you go through?
Do you haver about the edge for a very long time, not sure what to do?
Or do you walk away?

Doors...take us places,
and sometimes, places can be a little like doors.
Shechem, the place where Joshua called the Israelites to gather,
was, in many ways, like a door.
And we have to take a trip further back in time to get a sense of why gathering
at Shechem came with the echoes of all sorts of possibilities:
the opportunity to do something new,
the chance to see life shaped and changed forever.
Why Shechem?
Because, it’s where the story of promise,
the story of being chosen
and making a choice
begins.
We go right back to Abraham, in the Book of Genesis, chapter 12.
God calls Abram:
‘Leave your country, your people, 
and your father’s household 
and go to the land I will show you.
I will make you into a great nation
and I will bless you;
I will make your name great,
and you will be a blessing.
I will bless those who bless you,
and whoever curses you, 
I will curse;
and all peoples on earth 
will be blessed through you.’

Abram, later renamed Abraham, is given a choice by God,
a door of opportunity, if you like, and steps through it to accept, in faith, God’s promise.
He leaves everything that is familiar,
strikes out into the unknown with this as yet unknown God,
and, having travelled through the land,
arrives by the great tree of Moreh,
at Shechem.
It is there that God appears to Abram.
It is at Shechem that God says:
‘to your offspring, I will give this land.’
It is there that Abram makes an altar ...and worships God.
As for Abraham and his household, they will serve the Lord.

Generations pass.
The story of God’s relationship with Abraham
expands from a promise to one person and his household,
to what eventually becomes a numerous people –
the descendants of Abraham,
and the children of the Promise:
God’s people.
God’s chosen, who stand, here again,
at Shechem.
Gathered together, Joshua, who has led them into the land of Promise,
reminds them of their story.
‘Long ago, your forefathers beyond the River 
worshipped other gods...
but I took your father Abraham from the 
land beyond the River and led him,
and gave him many descendants.’

Chapter, by chapter, the stories making up
the story of the people of God are recounted by Joshua –
they’re reminded of their time in Egypt;
of their liberation from slavery there –
of the God who promised to rescue them
and who did.
Of the pursuit of the Egyptians,
and of the crossing of the Red Sea –
the Sea that became for the Israelites
the door to freedom.
They’re reminded of God guiding them
and taking them to the land long-promised.
A long tale, with so many twists and turns,
but always, always, with God at the centre:
God offering choices,
creating opportunities,
the promise of new things.
As he finishes recalling all that God has done for them,
Joshua calls upon them to make a choice:
A bit like the old Bob Dylan song, he notes ‘You’ve gotta serve somebody.’
To the people God has chosen, Joshua says ‘choose.’
Joshua asks them, ‘who are you going to serve?’
And, showing them the door being offered,
echoing the choice made by Abraham so many generations before him, Joshua states:
‘As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.’
Will the people follow in the ways of the gods,
or, will they follow in God’s way?

They walk through the door, choosing God.
They will make a mess of it time and time again,
but God, who had already chosen them,
will walk with them,
will be faithful,
will continue to be the God of the promise –
as the Psalmist will later claim:
‘no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned.’

Generations, kingdoms, and empires pass.
The choice is always there:
‘Who are you going to serve?’
In the good, and in the bad, God continues to walk with his people...
until, at a particular time,
God walks within human time and history,
in flesh and bone as one of us –
showing what love looks like in and through the life of Jesus.
The question is asked again:
‘Who are you going to serve?’
The response is made –
by fishermen, tax collectors, farmers,
radicals, the poor, the dispossessed,
the ill, and everyday people.
They hear the invitation afresh.
They choose to walk, through Jesus,
into new life,
a new way of being, and understanding,
a new found freedom –
even if that freedom is, for some like Paul,
found through service in prison chains,
or persecution.
They will serve the Lord.
But, in challenging times, how will they do it?

Paul, writing from prison, says to the new Christians in Ephesus:
‘put on God –
put on the armour of God.’
But it’s a strange kind of armour –
let’s look at the six items of the kit that Paul lays out before them:
• the belt of... TRUTH
• the breastplate of...RIGHTEOUSNESS
• the shoes that are THE GOSPEL OF PEACE
• the shield of...FAITH
• the helmet of...SALVATION
• the sword of...THE SPIRIT – THE WORD OF GOD
I’ve read this passage a number of times over the years, and gone ‘okay.’ 
But this week, as I looked and prepared,
something new fell into place for me
that had been sitting there in plain sight ever since
I’d come across this passage in my late teens –
and it’s to do with the shoes –
and given I was the Imelda Marcos of shoes at one point in my life,
I'm surprised I'd never really picked up on this before!
Here it is:
‘your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace’ 
If it’s your shoes that give you balance,
that keep you stable,
that ground you –
what grounds us as Christians?
Here within a very military metaphor...
it’s the ‘gospel of peace.’
The armour of God, then, is very different:
it’s about reconciliation –
peace with God,
peace with neighbour –
God’s ‘shalom’ –
life that’s full and rich and rounded and based on relationship:
‘you gotta serve somebody’ –
found in serving God and serving neighbour.
That’s the way to effect the promise of the harmonious kin-dom of God.
To do that requires integrity –
the belt of truth.
To do that requires walking in God’s way –
the breastplate of righteousness.
To bring in God’s kin-dom requires faith,
living into your salvation –
the knowledge that God has chosen you,
God has rescued you –
and in Paul’s letter ‘you’ is not an individual ‘you’ – it’s plural:
‘you’ as the Body of Christ
‘you’ as God’s people.
We don’t stand alone, we stand together,
with God and with each other.
We are God’s...
and he is ours,
and we, together are his community.
Like Abraham,
like Joshua and the people of the promise,
together we are part of the story of God’s people –  as God’s word reminds us.

Putting on the armour of God is essentially about clothing ourselves in Christ –
who is the Prince of Peace,
the one in whom we find righteousness and our rescue – our salvation and new life.
Who showed us in his own life
how we’re to live.

Like God’s people before us,
we too stand at Shechem –
and perhaps,
to follow in God’s way is to, each day, make that choice
when it comes to who we’re going to serve.
Like God’s people before us,
we too, will make messes,
but, we too, whether we feel it or not,
have God walking alongside us in the rough and the smooth
of all of the things that make up the very stuff of life.

This day, who are we going to serve?
We... will serve God.
How will we do it?
Look at how Jesus lived,
clothe ourselves in him as if it were armour:
live with integrity,
be people of reconciliation,
follow in God’s ways,
walk in the ways of peace.
Put on Jesus –
not the might of armies,
but the world-reconciling power of God,
embodied in the Cross
and the Resurrection of Christ.
Put     on    Jesus...
There’s a very old Sunday School song from the 80’s and the words, tho’ simple,
kind of sum up the question of
who we serve
and
how we serve:
‘Put on love every day,
never hide your love away,
don’t save love for a special day,
put on love every day.’
To put on Jesus is to put on love –
So, this day, and every day:
let us serve the Lord in love,
for that is the most powerful weapon in heaven and on earth. Amen.

News, contacts, information 12 - 16 August

The Minister will be unavailable from 

Mon 30 July to Wed 15 August.

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?
Sun 19 August, Morning Worship at 10.30am: 'As wise as the owl'
We'll be thinking about wisdom this morning.
Our readings are:
Proverbs 9.1-6; Psalm 34.9-14; Ephesians 5.15-20

Food Bank Box: 
Matt. 25:35 ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, 
I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink’ 
Beginning from 2 September, we will have a box in which to leave dry/ tinned goods for the Clydesdale Food Bank. If you have items to donate, that would be excellent: we shall make sure they get to their destination! Slightly longer ‘use-by’ dates would be helpful

LOOKING AHEAD:
Sun 2 Sept, 10.30am: Communion

Sun 9 Sept SONGS OF PRAISE SERVICE & GUILD DEDICATION
It’s leading up to that time of year once more: time to think about some of your favourite hymns, and nominate them for inclusion for this year’s Songs of Praise Service. Last nominations to be in by the end of morning tea on Sun 2 Sept.  During our service, we’ll also be rededicating our Guild, as they begin their programme for another year.

Poppy Project: Calling all those who can knit or crochet! 
Would you be willing to help make poppies for a large banner, to be used in the parish church on Remembrance Sunday, marking the Centenary of the end of the Great War? If you can help, Nikki and Heather would be delighted to hear from you. Patterns are available.
After the Sunday, we are hoping to dismantle the banner, and sell the poppies for a minimum £1 donation. All money raised to go to Poppy Scotland and Help for Heroes.

News, contacts, information 5 - 16 August

The Minister will be unavailable from 

Mon 30 July to Wed 15 August.

Worship will be led by the Rev. Sandy Strachan on Sun 12 August.
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?


Sun 12 Aug. 9am: the Prayer Group meets before worship this week. All are welcome to come along and join in prayer. Should you have any prayer requests, you’ll find pen and paper in the vestibule – note your prayer request and then pop it into the box, also in the vestibule.

Sun 12 August, Morning worship at 10.30am:
We welcome the Rev. Sandy Strachan once more, as he leads us in worship.



Food Bank Box: 
Matt. 25:35 ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, 
I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink’ 
Beginning from 2 September, we will have a box in which to leave dry/ tinned goods for the Clydesdale Food Bank. If you have items to donate, that would be excellent: we shall make sure they get to their destination! Slightly longer ‘use-by’ dates would be helpful

LOOKING AHEAD:
Sun 2 Sept, 10.30am: Communion

Sun 9 Sept SONGS OF PRAISE SERVICE & GUILD DEDICATION
It’s leading up to that time of year once more: time to think about some of your favourite hymns, and nominate them for inclusion for this year’s Songs of Praise Service. Last nominations to be in by the end of morning tea on Sun 2 Sept.  During our service, we’ll also be rededicating our Guild, as they begin their programme for another year.

Poppy Project: Calling all those who can knit or crochet! 
Would you be willing to help make poppies for a large banner, to be used in the parish church on Remembrance Sunday, marking the Centenary of the end of the Great War? If you can help, Nikki and Heather would be delighted to hear from you. Patterns are available.
After the Sunday, we are hoping to dismantle the banner, and sell the poppies for a minimum £1 donation. All money raised to go to Poppy Scotland and Help for Heroes.

News, contacts, general information 30 July - 16 Aug

The Minister will be unavailable from 

Mon 30 July to Wed 15 August.

Worship will be led by the Rev. Sandy Strachan on Sun 5 and 12 August.
Urgent pastoral cover will be provided by the Rev. George Shand of the Tinto Parishes. His number is 01899 309400.
For general parish queries, please contact Heather Watt, our Session Clerk on 01899 850211

What's On?


Sun 5 and 12 August, Morning Worship at 10.30am:
We welcome the Rev. Sandy Strachan morning as he leads us in worship.

Further ahead:
Sun 12 Aug. 9am: the Prayer Group meets before worship this week. All are welcome to come along and join in prayer. Should you have any prayer requests, you’ll find pen and paper in the vestibule – note your prayer request and then pop it into the box, also in the vestibule.

Food Bank Box: 

Matt. 25:35 ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, 

I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink’ 

Beginning from 2 September, we will have a box in which to leave dry/ tinned goods for the Clydesdale Food Bank. If you have items to donate, that would be excellent: we shall make sure they get to their destination! Slightly longer ‘use-by’ dates would be helpful

LOOKING AHEAD:
Sun 2 Sept, 10.30am: Communion

Sun 9 Sept SONGS OF PRAISE SERVICE & GUILD DEDICATION
It’s leading up to that time of year once more: time to think about some of your favourite hymns, and nominate them for inclusion for this year’s Songs of Praise Service. Last nominations to be in by the end of morning tea on Sun 2 Sept.  During our service, we’ll also be rededicating our Guild, as they begin their programme for another year.

Poppy Project: Calling all those who can knit or crochet! 
Would you be willing to help make poppies for a large banner, to be used in the parish church on Remembrance Sunday, marking the Centenary of the end of the Great War? If you can help, Nikki and Heather would be delighted to hear from you. Patterns are available.
After the Sunday, we are hoping to dismantle the banner, and sell the poppies for a minimum £1 donation. All money raised to go to Poppy Scotland and Help for Heroes.

Worship, Sun 29 July: Esther - 'For such a time as this'

We were nothing, if not ambitious in worship this week:
attempting to cover the story of Esther in one snapshot-style service!
To do it, we wove 2 reflections [from the point of view of Esther and Mordecai], and a brief homily through 4 sets of readings from the Book of Esther.
It's one of those books in the Bible that can sometimes get overlooked -
and, also [useful for pub quiz/ trivia evenings] one of only two books not to directly mention God [the other is Song of Songs].

Well done to our valiant reader this morning - not easy passages to get through,
with all of those challenging names!
Our readings from the Book of Esther were:
Esther 1:1-5, 9-12, 15-20;
Esther 2:1-9, 17-18; 3:8-14;
Esther 4:1-8, 12-17;
Esther 7.1–6, 9–10, 9.20–22, 32

The short homily picked up the sense of the challenging and precarious time
in which Esther and the Jewish people living within the Persian Empire found themselves,
and wondered about how to best use power, position, and privilege.
Each age has its own variation on 'such a time as this.'
As God's people, what do we do 'in such a time as this',
as we look back to the example of Esther,
and as we look around us, within our present?
In this, Martin Luther King's challenging words are still prescient:
“Cowardice asks the question is it safe?
Expediency asks is it politic? 
Vanity asks is it popular? 
But conscience asks is it right? 
And there comes a time when we must take a position that is 
neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but because it is right.”

The first reflection, based on Esther's point of view, was written by Dee Yates:
ESTHER REMEMBERS ...
It’s a dangerous world out there.
If I had my way, I'd sit still and keep quiet; keep my head down.
I know we Jews have been here for a hundred years or more
but is it safer now than it was when we arrived?
Thanks to cousin Mordecai, my life is a whole lot better than it might have been.
He took me in after my parents died.
I thought that he would want to marry me when I was of age –
he was always
singing my praises to the neighbours – but he didn't.
Unfortunately he had other ideas for me.
Mordecai found out that the king had decided to look for another wife.
He had divorced his beautiful queen, Vashti,
because she'd refused to join him and his guests at a banquet.
Whether she gave any reason for her refusal, I don’t know,
though these occasions can get a bit rowdy when the wine's flowing.
Then Mordecai came home one night and said that the court was asking for beautiful girls
to be given beauty treatment and then presented to the king,
so he could chose one to become his next wife.
He said I should go.
He said I should not reveal that I was a Jew.
If I kept quiet, he said,
if I was chosen by the king, I would be safe.
It doesn't feel safe.
One wrong move and I could be like Queen Vashti - or worse.
Mordecai told me that two of the palace officials were plotting to kill the king.
I reported it to his majesty, giving Mordecai the credit.
That turned out all to the good.
But next, my cousin fell out with Haman, the king's favourite
and Haman, finding out that my cousin was a Jew, decided to wreak revenge
by asking the king to give permission for all the Jews in the kingdom
to be slaughtered for disobeying the laws.
And the king agreed.
Mordecai was horrified - and then said I must go to the king and beg for mercy.
Me! I could have been put to death for speaking out of order.
But it was do or die - and perhaps die anyway.
So I impressed my husband by dressing to kill
- if you see what I mean -
and ordering a lavish banquet two days in a row.
Then, quaking in my shoes and sick to the core, I told him of Haman's plot to murder the Jews.
And the king responded by giving the Jews protection
and hanging Haman on the gallows that the wretch had built for my cousin.
He made Mordecai second in rank to the king himself and held him in high esteem
because 'he spoke up for the welfare of the Jews.'
If I recall the facts aright, it was I that spoke up for the welfare of the Jews, not him.
But no matter.
I'm still here.
And I'm glad that I had the courage to speak up.
What would have happened if I had kept quiet?
It might have changed the whole course of history - and not for the better.
                                                                                                                      ©Dee Yates

‘MORDECAI REFLECTS’
They were powerful.
Strong.
All-conquering.
Their empire was vast and mighty,
their wealth, unfathomable.
They had crushed other nations underfoot.
They had crushed my nation utterly
and taken my family into exile.
Strangers in a strange land,
but eventually, settling,
learning language and custom,
but never forgetting home,
never forgetting the God of their ancestors.
I had known little else but exile.
Every day, face to face with the brilliance
and wonder and power of Babylon,
I accepted my lot,
and knew they would rule forever.
But they didn’t.
The mighty Babylon fell,
crushed under a newer, greater empire:
it was the time of the Persians.
The great Babylon was a mere plaything
compared to their greatness:
their power reached around the known world
and other nations fell before them.
With so much change, how could I not look after wee Esther –
she had no living family but me.
As the years turned, so, she became as a daughter to me:
I vowed to do my best for her.
It's odd, how life can turn in the spin of a shekel.
The old queen had been banished,
the King had been preoccupied with war,
but now, home, he felt the need of a queen once more.
A series of strange events,
a beauty pageant of sorts,
and then, presto, my lovely Esther
moved from obscurity to the Palace.
But we had enemies.
I urged her to be wise,
not draw attention to her heritage,
and use her power for good.
It was me, however, who found trouble,
earning the anger of the King’s advisor, Haman.
Hatred, vanity, and ambition make for a dangerous combination:
pointing my people out,
putting us down,
telling lies about us,
he stirred up seeds of distrust and discord –
better to get rid of us,
than face any potential disaster we might bring.
Tricking the King,
a decree went throughout the whole empire,
calling for the extermination of my people.
But, what of my lovely Esther?
There in the centre of power and conspiracy,
how would she fare?
And would she dare to use the little power
she had, to save us all?
She was brave...
but I just didn’t know...
                                  ©Nik Mac

Sermon, Sun 22 July 'Sharing our stories, sharing ourselves'

Today we reflected on the power of story, of sharing our stories, of sharing God's story. As we entered the building different coloured tags with the words 'my story' were given out, and in the early part of worship, we thought about the story of our life, and a story from our life. These were gathered up and tied to what became our story tree, placed by the lectern - the many colours representing the diversity of stories, all brought together by a common story: God's story in the world, in our communities, and in our lives.

READINGS:
Ps 23; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-44

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

It was the first time she’d been invited around for dinner.
She’d struck it lucky:
Monday night was roast night, and Deb was quite partial to a decent roast, along with roast tatties.
As they settled at the table to eat, the stories began of how the day had gone for each of them.
Some of the chat got into some pretty blunt speaking about bodily functions and such like.
One particular story had been quite gory indeed – concerning a rugby training injury.
Deb listened, watched, and chewed on her bit of roast beef thoughtfully.
The next day, at school with her friend, she finally blurted out the question that
had been vexing her all through the night:
‘So, do you always talk about bodily functions and blood and guts at dinner?’
Her friend looked surprised, then stopped to think.
‘Yeah, actually, I suppose we do: it’s the only time we get to tell our stories, 
so nothing’s off limits. Um, sorry!’
Poor Deb.
But it was a good lesson for her friend with the cast-iron stomach: me.
I learned that day not to tell certain stories if dining out elsewhere.

A little earlier we were talking about stories –
stories that made up the story of our life;
about Jesus, as the great story teller;
about the followers of Jesus, passing on the stories that made up the story of his life –
a life and stories which in turn, gave us insights into God’s great story –
told from since before Creation came into being.
Stories shared from the dawn of time right down to our present.
And it’s interesting to me, that within the collection of stories gathered together
which make up our Bible, so many are, in some way, food-related.
Last week, a gruesome birthday dinner at King Herod’s palace –
which my friend Deb would definitely have struggled with;
and this week, a much happier event –
an unexpected picnic with Jesus, the disciples, and at least 5 000 others...
although I suspect that there were probably more:
our story of the feeding of the 5 000 only counts the men –
women and children weren’t qualified to testify as witnesses in law,
so weren’t deemed worthy of counting!
I’ll not go into a small feminist rant at this point, I promise!

As we’ve seen in the Gospel of Mark,
the crowds just keep gathering around Jesus.
At the beginning of this particular story,
he, along with the disciples, are heading off to a quiet place to get a little rest.
The disciples are not long back from their mission –
to go, two by two, and share the news of Jesus in the surrounding area.
Having shared their stories with Jesus, of what had happened,
it’s time to stop a wee while, recharge batteries, and generally chill out.
It’s a great plan.
Off they go to what’s described as ‘a solitary place.’
However, they don’t go unnoticed.
Soon, the solitary place is more like party-zone central:
the crowds have literally hot-footed it there, to see Jesus –
almost in the same way some folk flock to see their favourite movie or rock star.

Although he’s tired, as he arrives and sees the gathering crowd,
Jesus doesn’t get hot and bothered,
he has compassion on them –
he sees just how lost they are,
just how desperate they are for meaning in their lives;
they’re searching, looking for something,
wanting a life that...matters;
wanting someone to show them how to make sense of the story that is their life;
they seek a shepherd –
and Jesus, as the Good Shepherd, greets them as they come,
and then settles them down,
and begins to teach them
instead of having the rest he and his disciples had been planning.

Now, there’s a reason that solitary places are often just that, solitary –
they tend to be in out of the way, off the beaten track areas.
This unusually crowded solitary place was in a remote area, and time was moving on.
No handy burger van at the ready,
no phone for a Domino’s pizza available,
and the disciples are getting edgy:
what to do?
This bunch of assorted people,
each with their own particular story,
each with their own particular reason for chasing after Jesus,
well, these people are going to get hungry.
Surely it’s time to send them away?
But we know that this is not how the story goes.

Jesus is very much into welcome and hospitality:
remember, his first miracle was turning water into wine.
He will not see these ‘sheep’, these lost ones, sent away hungry
whether in a spiritual or physical manner.
Even without the benefit of joined up shops, or a trusty Marks and Sparks,
this is a problem that can be fixed.
In fact, this particular problem may be a great example of that age-old saying:
‘A problem shared, is a problem halved.’
The people aren’t sent away.
The disciples are told:
‘You give them something to eat – what have you got?’
They dig out their Star Wars themed lunch boxes – or equivalent...
Some bread, some fish.
Perhaps they look at it a little wistfully as they show it to Jesus,
who blesses the food, and then they start to share it out.
But it doesn’t run out.
And as we know, at the end of this story, there’ll be plenty of left-overs as well.

Whether some mysterious thing happens,
or whether the selfless sharing of the disciples’ own food inspires everyone
to pull out their own lunch boxes and pool resources isn’t the point:
there are other things at play here.
Jesus, the ‘bread of life’ nourishes both body and soul –
and, through this miracle, reminds us of another story,
the feeding of the Israelites as they wandered in the Wilderness.
Jesus actively demonstrates that God will indeed supply all needs.
And another thing:
Jesus feeds them, no questions asked;
he doesn’t require any doctrinal hoops to be jumped through,
doesn’t ask them to show proof of their holiness.
They don’t have to do anything to earn their place at this great picnic.
He simply meets their need.
He feeds them, and in doing so, they become, in that moment, companions.
The word ‘companion’ comes from the Latin:
‘com’ meaning ‘with, and ‘panis’ meaning ‘bread’...
So, a ‘companion’ is someone with whom you share your bread.
And that’s what happens to this group gathered in a remote place:
in the breaking of bread, in the sharing of food, and of their stories, they become companions.

Time and time again, Jesus will eat with a variety of people –
and often be told that they are ‘the wrong kind of people’ –
poor, outcast, unclean, dodgy folk.
Widows, orphans, tax collectors, foreigners, radicals.
A diversity of people, yet with one thing in  common: hunger –
physical, yes, but deeper than that –
a soul-hunger that only Jesus can satisfy.
Each time he eats with them, he makes the statement:
‘these are my people, the people I share my stories and my bread with – my companions.’ 
Each of his companions has their own particular story of how they landed up
sharing a meal with Jesus.
Each will share a story about a particular need that drew them to him.
Each will go away satisfied, having eaten bread with the Bread of Life
and found themselves nourished way beyond their expectations.
Each will share their story – often over bread,
so that the stories and the great story
will be passed down,
will be spread,
and the feeding will feed imaginations,
and hearts, and souls,
and bodies and minds.

‘All who feast on the Bread of Life are family. 
All who dare to feed the hungry, 
fellowship with the suffering, 
and befriend sinners are companions of Christ. 
This, after all, is the Kingdom: 
a bunch of outcasts and oddballs 
gathered together, not because we are rich or worthy or good, 
but because we are hungry, because we long for more. 
And just as the fish and the loaves continued to multiply, so have the companions of Jesus. 
The family just keeps growing and growing.  
So whoever you are in this ongoing story...if you are hungry, come and eat. 
You don't have to earn a spot. It is given. 
The baskets are overflowing and there’s always room for more.’[*Rachel Held Evans]  
And when you’ve eaten, go share:
your story, God’s story,
and don’t forget to share the bread.
Amen.

Sermon, Sun 8 July: 'Unlikely prophets'

READINGS: Ezekiel 2:1-10; Mark 6:1-13

SERMON ‘Unlikely prophets’
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.

These days the job market can be a rather tricky thing both for prospective employees, and employers: those wanting to fill a position with just the right person.
Just as there’s an art to putting together a CV, so there’s also an art in putting together an ad:
both the CV and the ad are designed to not only give information, but to create some kind of impression.

Recently I came across some job adverts and ... well, yes, they did make quite an impression!
Have a listen and see what you think about these places of work:
‘Surgeon wanted: for a new health clinic opening in the area.
No experience needed.
Must have own tools.’

Just a quick check: who fancies registering with that particular health clinic?
I’m not sure which is more worrying:
the ‘no experience needed,’
or the ‘must have own tools.’
On the other hand, if you’ve always fancied having a go at being a surgeon
but never really had the time to train – well, there’s a golden opportunity going!

How about this one – would you work here?
‘Precision Tune Auto Care: 
‘We stand in front of our brakes:
help wanted.’
...No?

What about this one – it’s a little longer, but, it doesn’t skimp on detail:
‘Sales advisor:
my clients are a massive bunch of indecisive idiots 
who like to think of themselves as being better than they actually are.
They are now looking for like-minded idiots to join them.
You will be arrogant and have a high level of self-importance,
along with a real desire to rip customers off to make lots of money.
You will be responsible for selling to customers things they don’t need at grossly inflated prices.
Salary on offer is £18-22 000, although at interview, my client will tell you 
that you can achieve manager status in 2-3 years with a salary of £35 000 plus.
However, this is rubbish.
They will interview you and make it sound that they’re keen on you,
then arrange a second interview at which you’ll think you’ve done really well,
however, your feedback will be: ‘not for us’,
which will be really helpful to you in understanding why you didn’t get the job.
If the above sounds like it could be for you, apply today.’
Sound appealing?
A real ad, and the shocking thing is that 8 people actually applied!

These job ads came to mind as I read our passage from Ezekiel, which we heard earlier.
God is calling Ezekiel to be his man –
to apply for the vacant job of prophet.
And here’s the sales pitch:
‘I’m sending you to a rebellious nation;
right from the get-go, they’ve always rebelled,
never listened;
they are obstinate and stubborn;
they may fail to listen;
They’re probably going to get angry
and not only say horrible things,
they might actually physically hurt you;
it’ll be like being surrounded 
by briars and thorns,
like living among scorpions;
oh, did I say they’d be mean to you
and that they’re rebellious...?
Oh yes, yes I did.
Anyway, don’t be afraid.
Go speak my words;
don’t rebel like them,
oh, and while you’re at it, here: 
eat this scroll filled with words of woe and lament – it’ll taste like honey, I promise.’

Now, there’s a tantalising job offer:
go and speak to a bunch of folk who truly are revolting – in more ways than one.
It’s a seemingly thankless, difficult task, destined for failure.
And yet, regardless of success or failure,
the job is to go and speak God’s kingdom words – and trust God to know what he’s doing.
A few weeks back we heard Jesus talking about seeds being scattered by a gardener:
the job was to go scatter the seeds –
and then trust God to be about the business of dealing with the actual growth of the seeds.
Crack on, do God’s will.
And, despite the very challenging job conditions, that’s exactly what Ezekiel does:
he accepts the job offer, and speaks God’s word in soil that appears to be less than fertile:
and yet, it should be fertile ground,
after all, these are God’s own people.

Like a mirror, our gospel passage this morning reflects, in part, a similar story.
We have Jesus returning home for a visit among his own people.
Up to this point in the gospel of Mark, it’s been all go.
We start with Jesus being baptised,
and move quickly into the beginning of his ministry.
He gathers around him disciples – wanting to learn from him.
He rapidly gains quite the reputation:
crowds flock to him – wherever he is, so too, are they.
He drives out evil spirits,
heals the sick,
can command the elements themselves – calming a storm at sea.
Very soon into his ministry he has alienated the religious establishment
who look for ways of killing him.
He is dynamic:
a force to be reckoned with;
a power for good –
a power for God.
‘Messiah’ is being mentioned in some quarters,
as people hear his words and see his deeds:
as they watch love in action,
and the seeds of the kingdom of heaven grow and flourish.
Jesus is on the crest of a great wave as he turns home.

When he gets there, he does what he usually does when he arrives at a place:
on the Sabbath, he goes to the synagogue and begins to teach.
The home-town crowd go wild:
how awesome and amazing is this local boy done good?
They’re filled with admiration and clamour for more, so receptive are they...
A great party happens and they carry him on their shoulders through the streets
cheering and celebrating his success:
a success which puts all of them in a good light –
after all, the success of one is the success of all.

Except...
we know that this is not what happens.
Quite the opposite:
he teaches, yes.
They are amazed, yes.
But the amazement is more from disbelief –
‘Hang on, they’re fine words, but, who do you think you are, sonny Jim, 
to take a place of honour?’
‘He’s just the carpenter – he’s nothing special.’
And then the sly comments about the circumstances of his birth:
less a case of ‘we kent yer faither’
and more a case of maybe they don’t.
So rather than say ‘isn’t he Joseph’s son?’
they say ‘isn’t he...Mary’s?’
In a culture based on shame and honour, there’s a particular pecking order:
to give honour to this humble carpenter would displace someone else.
They’re not prepared to upset the apple-cart:
they’re not prepared to entertain the idea
that someone as seemingly ordinary as Jesus –
or even, that someone with a slight taint, like Jesus –
could possibly make good.*
In their minds, someone like him making good somehow shows the rest of them up.
So, instead of honouring him, they attempt to put him back in his box –
he’s become too big for his britches:
he’s the most unlikely of prophets.
He speaks God’s word,
scatters the seeds of the kingdom,
and appears to have the most meagre response
on this seemingly unfertile soil.
Everywhere else, the ever-present crowd
is desperate for Jesus to help, or heal, or restore them, 
but not here, not the home-crowd,*
not...Jesus’ own people.

After tremendous success, here, in this story, the writer records what looks like a failure.
It’s an interesting turning point, and his own followers, the disciples, are watching.
Which is why it’s interesting that, immediately after this difficult homecoming,
we see Jesus calling the twelve disciples closest to him to go out, two by two,
and to scatter the seeds of the kingdom.
They’ve seen his great successes,
his miracles,
experienced for themselves his rescue from the storm.
It’s almost as if they also needed to see that, at times,
the work of the kingdom can be plain hard slog, without much sign of outward success:
the hard homecoming has been just as instructive as all of the miracles.
Go out, do it: share God’s word –
scatter the seed,
be God’s love in the world, in action.
But they don’t go alone:
they have a companion on the journey –
to share the burden and to share the joys.

They are ordinary people –
fishermen and tax collectors –
and these ordinary people go off on this journey with little provision,
and yet, with everything they need.
They come back, amazed at God,
amazed at what has occurred as they’ve stepped out in faith,
and possibly, even, a little amazed at themselves:
God can use ordinary folk like...them.

I’ve occasionally mentioned church signs – often in relation to sermon titles.
Often they can also have some very cheesy slogans or posters with dire puns.
At one point, it was quite the thing to post on church sign boards a mock up
of an advert for a job:
‘Wanted:
Carpenter seeks joiners.’
That carpenter, Jesus, a seemingly ordinary man, yet, extraordinary too,
calls us to be about the kingdom’s business.
Calls us, ordinary, yet extraordinary folk:
to say ‘yes’ to the job of being God’s people.
To say ‘yes’ to the job of being God’s love in action in the world.
To say ‘yes’ to the job of being unlikely prophets.
To say ‘yes’ to the job even though, at times, it won’t necessarily be all smooth sailing...

We, like Ezekiel, like Abraham, like Sarah, like Mary,
like so many down the ages, are called to faithful obedience:
we might not see ‘success’ in the way the world would have us try to define it;
we might not see ‘success’ in our lifetime;
Nevertheless, wherever we are, we crack on with the business of embodying God’s love.
Actions matter:
‘God has chosen us in baptism, not only for salvation, 
but also for purposeful, consequential lives here and now...
Each day, we have a choice between resisting God’s activity
or partnering with God’s intent and action – to bless and care for God’s world.
...Our acts of kindness are holy,
and our moments of unkindness or indifference are tragic.
What we do matters and...God equips us to be his agents of grace,’ *
ordinary people, yet, made extraordinary –
for we are his,
and together, as his people, and with him,
miracles can happen,
seeds can grow,
hard ground can be revitalised.
God puts out the job advert and calls each one of us to apply:
with our different gifts, and personalities, and skills.
‘A timid believer pauses to listen to the Voice;
A struggling church hears the Voice and turns;
and still the Voice beckons today. . .
can you hear?
As we seek to listen to God’s voice, ever calling,
so may our prayer be:
Here I am. Send me.’**

Let’s pray:
Loving God, our creator, our sustainer,
the one who is the ground of our being
and at the same time is the one who holds
the universe in your hand:
Give us hearts that will sing your praise
in the highs and the lows.
Give us minds that will put some effort
into thinking about how to follow you with honesty.
Give us hands that will work to succeed
and move on from failure.
As your people,
as Christ’s body:
help us to worship you,
help us to live the Christian life,
help us to be followers of Christ...
with every fibre of our being –
heart, mind, body and soul –
In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

*David Lose, 'Working Preacher'
**Roots

Sermon, Sunday 1 July: 'The jewel in the crown'

READINGS: Lamentations 3:17-33; Mark 5.21-43

This morning, a little bit of drama to help explore themes arising from our readings, particularly Mark. There was a whimsical piece of wondering, as seen, through the eyes of a funeral director who runs into an unexpected glitch, followed later by two reflections from the point of view of Jairus, and the woman in the crowd. After the readings and reflections, we stayed seated to sing 'We cannot measure how you heal', using it as a form of prayer. Thereafter, the sermon...
After worship this morning, we held our Annual Stated Meeting and approved the accounts.

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.

Lament.
There is a long, strong, and very powerful tradition of lament within scripture:
to lament, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is to make
‘a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.'
Alternatively, a lament is:
'A song, piece of music, or poem expressing grief or sorrow.'
Or, a lament can be a complaint.
This last, well, the children of Israel, having won their freedom from Egypt,
spend quite a considerable time lamenting their fate as they wander in the desert;
the Psalms – the song book of the Bible –
has songs of rejoicing and praise,
but also a goodly share of lament and sorrow;
and, dotted throughout the Bible we find many stories, many situations
in which there are powerful expressions of grief and sorrow –
we even have a book of Lament,
in which are gathered up poems and songs of unassailable despair and sadness.

This book is written around the time of the Babylonian Empire –
and Israel has been utterly crushed under the heel of Babylon.
So much loss:
there has been exile of quite a substantial number of the population –
we have the Psalm ‘By the rivers of Babylon’
expressing the sadness of not being able to sing the Lord’s song in a strange land [Boney M song!];
the temple in Jerusalem has been destroyed;
the city, left ravaged and pillaged and ruined;
no one to lead those left behind;
no sense of hope –
no sense of rising from the ashes.
Out of this experience comes the Book of Lamentations –
a profound expression of grief and sorrow.
Traditionally, its author was reckoned to be the prophet Jeremiah:
called to preach God’s message to the remnant left behind.
It was no easy task:
he was unpopular – so much so, that his life was threatened:
at one point, he was tossed down a well by the people.
And still, he proclaimed the word of the Lord:
he knew about suffering,
he had cause to lament,
and he also knew about hope –
and of God’s unfailing goodness.
No matter how dire,
yet, God was with him,
as God was with the people... even if it might not have felt like it.

Oddly, for a book with such seemingly depressing subject matter,
the Book of Lamentations is one of my favourite books in the Bible –
because right there in the very middle of it,
sitting between laments,
there’s the passage we heard earlier from Chapter Three,
and those words from verses 21 through to 26:
Yet this I call to mind
    and therefore... I... have... hope:
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
    therefore I will wait for him.”
The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
    to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
    for the salvation of the Lord.

There, in the bleakest of bleak places...
there it is, the shining jewel in the crown of this book: 
hope.
A calling to mind of God’s great love;
of God’s faithfulness –
hope in him, says Jeremiah –
or, whoever it was that wrote it.
Hope in him –
he is with you,
he will get you through:
you will not be consumed.

Lament.
Our older lady in the gospel passage had cause to lament.
12 years of ill health and all that came with it:
her illness meant not only pain and discomfort,
it meant social exclusion –
she was seen as ritually ‘unclean’
if anyone touched her,
or she them,
they, too, would be ‘unclean’ by association.
She was ill, isolated, impure:
A bleak and seemingly hopeless life situation.
Are there any last straws to clutch at,
or, should she just turn her face to the wall?

Lament.
Jairus, for all his wealth,
for all of his social and religious standing,
also knew the painful song of lament rather too well.
He loved his wee daughter –
at 12, she is on the traditional cusp of adulthood,
and he watches, as the future is being taken from her before his eyes.
All the promise of laughter and life;
of potential...and of building new stories,
creating new memories as the years roll by, is fading fast.
If there’s any straw to clutch at,
no matter how unlikely,
or seemingly unorthodox,
or, possibly scandalous,
well, Jairus will grab it if he can with both hands.

Lament.
The crowds are ever-present.
A sea of need,
of pain,
of desperation...
so many wanting their own particular straw to take away:
to see healing,
or new life,
or a new way of being,
or a once-proud nation rise again.
And there, right in the very middle of it all:
as a desperate woman breaks with religious proscriptions,
as a desperate father races to find help,
as so many gather...
there he is...
the shining jewel in God’s crown –
the beacon of God’s love,
the beacon of light in the darkness,
the beacon of hope
who is the Word of life –
in flesh and in blood
showing God’s great love,
demonstrating in word and in action
God’s faithfulness –
hope is found in him.
And, on that day, a woman goes home rejoicing;
and a father witnesses the unthinkable,
and the kingdom of heaven continues its quiet work of transformation.

Lament.
We, all of us, go through our own seasons of rejoicing and sorrow;
times of abundance and loss;
times where we look back to times past and think of what we had,
and struggle to find a way forward –
because we know there may be change,
and we are ever creatures of habit.
Sometimes, we find ourselves looking for straws to clutch at:
crumbs of comfort.
Sometimes, we’re tired of clutching at straws that feel well worn.
We lament.
And as we do,
and as he always does...
there in the midst,
there... he... is –
Jesus, the jewel in the crown,
the One who walked among us;
the One who, through the Spirit, is still with us;
the One who hears our songs of lament;
the One who feels the fear and the pain;
the One who turns hopelessness into hope,
for he is the One who will get us through:
the One who will make sure that we will not be consumed ...
the One who asks us to follow him out into a broken world to share that hope;
who invites us to move from mourning, into dancing...
and who calls us his friends – this day, and every day. Amen.

Sermon, Sun 24 June: 'That sinking feeling'

Rembrandt's 'The Storm on the Sea of Galilee'

This week's 'Food for the journey' during the week:
Read through the Gospel passage slowly. Sit a while with Rembrandt's painting 

and perhaps imagine what being on the boat was like. Where are you in the picture?
What might you say to Jesus in the midst of the storm?

If it's helpful, use the prayer at the bottom of the sermon to assist your personal reflections.

READINGS: Ps 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Cor 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41

SERMON 

Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth, and the thoughts of all our hearts, 

be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

I may have mentioned at some point before, the custom in some parts the United States 

of churches putting the titles of sermons on their noticeboards outside. 

One such church, advertising morning and evening worship, had this rather ‘interesting’ 

combination of sermon titles:

Morning worship: ‘Jesus in the boat’

Evening worship: ...‘Looking for Jesus’ 

Oh, dear.

I did wonder if the Galilean Navy might be involved in that particular search – 

but the sign did serve as a useful lesson: 

to be careful when thinking up sermon titles!

Our readings today, in different ways, feature storms.

Listen to the words of the Psalmist –

and as you do, think just how closely they mirror our Gospel reading.

The Psalmist says:

Some went out on the sea in ships;

    They saw the works of the Lord,

    his wonderful deeds in the deep.

For he spoke and stirred up a tempest

    that lifted high the waves.

They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths; -

you can almost see the great rolling waves there, yes? –

    in their peril their courage melted away.

They reeled and staggered like drunkards;

    they were at their wits’ end.

Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

    and he brought them out of their distress.

He stilled the storm to a whisper;

    the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

    and he guided them to their desired haven.

You can see the parallels between the Psalm and the account 

of the disciples in the boat on the Sea of Galilee.

When I was thinking about these readings, my mind wandered to the movie ‘Jaws’ –

bear with me!

There’s a scene towards the end of the movie when the Sherriff and his side-kick 

head out on a boat with a hardened, very experienced fisherman: a professional shark hunter. 

They’re determined to catch and kill the Great White shark that has been menacing 

the small beach community. Off they go, out to sea. 

Barrels of shark bait are thrown overboard to attract the great sharp-toothed beastie. 

It’s not long until the shark shows up.

And when it does, they’re all awe-struck – this shark is enormous.

And the Sherriff, looking at this freakishly huge shark, 

utters one of the great, iconic lines of the film, saying:

‘I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.’

After a lot of suspense and some pretty terrifying and gruesome scenes in the ensuing battle, 

eventually the monster is killed – 

having managed to eat the skipper and destroy the boat in the process.

Let me tell you, as someone who grew up in and around boats, 

after seeing that wretched movie it took me a very long time not to get twitchy 

every time I went out on the water. 

The fear was real!

‘We’re gonna need a bigger boat...’ 

I wonder, if the disciples, in the midst of the freakishly big storm that had 

come suddenly upon them, well...I wonder if any of them might have had the same thought? 

These guys are experienced sailors: 

they know the conditions like the back of their hand;

they know their way around a boat;

but suddenly they’re all at sea: literally and metaphorically.

There they are, in the midst of a great storm – 

as our text says ‘a furious storm’ –

a tempest so mighty that it lifted high the waves and caused their tiny boat to be caught up 

in waves so high that they felt as if they were being carried to the heavens ...

and, what goes up, must come down:

so from the heights, they found themselves being hurled to what seemed the very 

depths of the sea. 

Terrifying.

They find themselves battling the elements

find themselves battling for their very lives.

As with the Psalm:

in their peril, their courage melted away;

they reeled and staggered like drunkards;

they were at their wits’ end.

Fear.

As you read the account, you can almost smell it.

It was the end of what had probably been 

quite a long day.

Jesus had been teaching –

telling stories about the kingdom of God –

using simple, every day examples to connect with the crowds who followed him 

wherever he went.

The kingdom was like ...scattering seeds and letting them grow as they would;

The kingdom was like the tiny mustard seed: 

how resilient it was, and how it seemed to sprout everywhere...

There were other stories, too, about lamps on stands.

By evening, it was time for a change. 

Rather than waiting until the dawn, Jesus says to the disciples:

‘let us go to the other side.’

Nothing in our gospel account gives us any indication why Jesus seems to be in such a hurry:

it’s safer to travel by day, he could wait overnight;

and, he goes ‘just as he is’ – no extra supplies, no change of clothes.

‘Let us go to the other side.’

And so they make ready.

On this side of the sea Jesus and the disciples are on home ground – 

they know the area, the culture, share the same religion.

To go to the other side, meant to go to Gentile territory.

Going to the other side meant change and moving out of their comfort zone.

Heading out from the shore,

they find that they've moved very much out of their comfort zone

before they even reached the other side.

But wait a minute.

Even in these early days of Jesus’ ministry,

the disciples have seen him perform miracles.

When the storms of life are raging –

or the Sea of Galilee –

Jesus is, in fact, standing by them.

Sure, he’s asleep.

But he’s there.

And perhaps because he’s able to sleep in the wild and furious storm, 

surely, they should take heart from that –

have a little faith –

even if it’s as small as a mustard seed.

But... it is still early days:

They’re getting to know him, getting to see what he can do – 

which is amazing, but, they don’t as yet really know him.

And because they don’t, there, in the storm,

rather than take comfort that Jesus is with them, they panic.

Rather than asking: ‘Teacher, can you fix this?’

instead, they accuse him of not caring:

‘Don’t you care if we drown?’

Faced with two choices – fear, or faith –

they let fear swamp them just as much as the waves are swamping the boat.

We heard the story: Jesus stills the storm –

from great storm, to great calm.

But instead of being afraid of the storm, the disciples are now afraid of Jesus:

‘Who is this – even the wind and waves obey him?’

Simply put: he is the Son of the One who, in the words of the Psalmist

‘stilled the storm to a whisper;

    the waves of the sea were hushed.’

They learn a little more about this rabbi they’ve been following –

he can do healings, they’ve seen that,

but his power goes beyond that of mere humans:

it extends to power over creation.

They won’t just need a bigger boat to weather storms –

they’re gonna need a bigger view of God.

Fear or faith?

‘Both fear and faith make sense only in relation to something that is unknown, challenging, difficult, or threatening. I mean, it’s just those kinds of things that make us afraid. 

And, when you stop to think about it, it’s just those same kinds of things that summon faith to face them. Indeed, in the face of things that are unknown, challenging, difficult, or threatening, it almost seems like there is a clear choice in front of us – fear or faith.’ David Lose

Following Jesus doesn’t mean difficult things won’t happen: 

we see that clearly in this gospel story, and throughout the gospels –

indeed, we see it expressed very clearly in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, 

where he talks of being caught up in other kinds of storms:

not the being on a boat in the sea kind, but being caught up in the storms of life 

that had come about due to following Jesus:

‘we live on; beaten and not yet killed, sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; 

poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, yet possessing everything.’

Perhaps it’s not so much of an either /or:

maybe ‘faith doesn’t so much banish fear as it does make it possible to cope with it...

maybe it’s not whether you’re afraid, but how you respond.'

And, having faith is about having trust:

trust grows in relation to the more you learn – the more you know about someone.

For the disciples, it will be a long, ongoing journey of getting to know Jesus.

They’ll make mistakes; 

they’ll misunderstand;

they may even think him mad at times,

and yet, in the end, as they discover him to be the Lord of life

they’ll find in him the longed-for Messiah:

the One who will not just rescue them from the storm,

but who will rescue the whole of humanity,

and they’ll understand that to follow him is perhaps to feel the fear, and do it anyway,

and hang on to his words to be at peace when the storms are all about them.

So, too, for us:

as we learn more of the One we follow and call ‘Lord’

so we learn to trust, even in the storms – especially in the storms –

it’s a long, ongoing journey:

it takes a whole life-time.

You might want to fasten your seat-belts for the ride that may just take you ‘to the other side’ 

– places you’ve never been, 

places outside your comfort zone.

But Jesus is here in the boat with us all the way – 

and, as his followers, we journey with him, and with each other: 

for, we’re all if us in this faith adventure together.

Let’s pray:

When dangers invade our sense of safety

and we wonder if our Redeemer cares,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

When we face job loss and financial downturns,

and our sense of security is shaky,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

When we experience distress, and conflict,

that feels like it will tear us apart,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

When our lives feel chaotic and desolate

because of illness or sorrow,

we hear the invitation:

Be at peace. Be calm.

Help us to know, O God, 

that the one who calmed the dangerous sea is present with us, cares for us, 

and can calm the stormy waters of our lives. 

Help us to trust more fully

 and more deeply in you. 

We pray in the name of Jesus, 

who invites us to be at peace. Amen.

Church news - meetings and updates

Annual Stated Meeting:
This will be held on Sun 1 July, immediately after worship, to receive our annual accounts.
We missed the deadline by a week...!
With the change of Treasurer, and changes to duties [outsourcing our accounts for preparation],
we were slightly held up this year.
Happy to report that we're now on track, and next year should be much more straightforward
[or is that tempting fate??!]

Presbytery Support:
As a congregation, and as a Session, we've had a hard time of it in this last wee while.
As Minister, I continue to be in awe of the resilience and strength of the congregation.
Our Kirk Session has virtually halved over the last 15 months -
most of these unforseen circumstances - leaving the area, retiring; illness, and deaths.
Some of these were long-standing Office holders.
Given our circumstances, Presbytery has offered to provide some support.
This will be done by sending 4 Assessor Elders to come and help us for a wee while -
especially in some areas where we have lost long-held knowledge on particular
office-holder tasks. This is why it's great to be Presbyterian[!!] - and not an independent
congregation, and we're hugely grateful for the help that Presbytery are sending
to get us back up to speed once more. Our Assessor Elders are yet to be appointed,
but once they are, I'll let you know more.

Local Church Review Update:
Many meetings later, along with 'Biscuits and Blethers' and questionnaires,
we are at the stage where our facilitators are processing all the information.
With summer approaching, they have agreed to bring their report to our
September Kirk Session meeting - with our appointed LCR members of the congregation
in attendance. This will be an open meeting, so any other members of the congregation
would be most welcome to attend for that particular piece of business.
The date for that meeting of Session will be 27 Sept at 7pm.
At that meeting, it is also anticipated that our new Assessor Elders will be in attendance.
With the information presented in the report, we hope to put together our 5 year Forward Plan
and, once done, this would be presented to the December meeting of Presbytery.

On a side note:
It's been an interesting time being part of a new process -
'guinea pigs' along with several other parishes [none of whom have yet completed].
Having been on, and 'fronted' LCR teams to other parishes in the 'old' format,
I've found that this new way has taken a lot longer than the previous way of doing things.
Not necessarily a bad thing, but helpful to identify for future time-scales.
Part of that has been new facilitators adjusting, building up relationships of trust, and ironing out some glitches in the new format.
So, with that done, what of the process so far?
I feel it's gone a lot deeper, and been more meaningful than the previous approach:
while the system we had before was okay, sometimes it could feel, at times, almost a
'tick box' kind of exercise. Given that, then new process has been more challenging - but I think
some useful things have come from it.
It's been a mutual learning process - for facilitators and parish - but I think, in the end,
despite some of the early hiccups, that it has been good to be a trial parish.
I'm looking forward to see what transpires from the report in September,
and looking ahead to doing a little forward planning for our next five years.
One thing that I think that would already be a good idea to embed into that plan
is doing 'Biscuits and Blethers' style meetings on an annual basis -
good to have the wider conversations in the various communities within the parish...
although, next time, I'll try NOT to hold one on a long weekend - oops! [still learning!]