Where is the hope and Where is the faith

It was early on Saturday morning, and the world paused for breath. The sabbath, the day of rest, but how would they find rest this Sabbath day? 

Friday had been and gone. Friday with its tear and pain, with its hopelessness and despair, with its crushing of dreams and the final, brutal, ending of hope. Friday, when all they had longed and hoped for was ripped away from them, leaving them alone, and in the darkness.

And yet, buried within each of them, hidden deep in the hearts, so well hidden that they dare not even acknowledge its existence, a small kernel of faith remained. A kernel, small as a mustard seed, waiting, waiting, waiting for Sunday

Because however dark it seems, there is a light shining in that darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. A like those kernels of faith, the light also waits for Sunday...

And what a Sunday! Bursting forth, from the cross on the hill, and from the mouth of the empty tomb, the light erupts and overflows, pouring out into their lives, joining with those kernels of faith, and spreading, growing, flowing out, from heart to heart, a river of love and mercy and light and healing and Grace.

Friday, with its darkness and pain has been gone. But Sunday stands before us.

No-one to point the finger

OK, so I usually reference U2 in my blogs, and today's title is from a U2 song, so thats OK. But really today I need to reference Elton John, because actually the title I want to use is "Sorry seems to be the hardest word".

I mean, how often do we actually say "sorry" these days. In this culture where we look to everyone else to blame, where our individualism means we can justify and explain our own actions, we're so quick to look around and point the finger at someone else, that we can usually find a way out of saying sorry. And if we can't then how often do we follow it up with our explanation, our justification, our escape route. "I'm sorry but...." or "I'm sorry you feel like that, but what I actually meant was... " Have we, as a culture, as a people, lost the ability to take responsibility for ourselves, for our own actions, for our own part in the things that go wrong?

I've spent a lot of time thinking and praying about a number of issues this Lent - and one of the things that God has been saying to me is that I need to get better at taking responsibility, accepting my own culpability and saying sorry. Just apologising, without trying to justify, explain or evade my part.

There is of course a place for understanding, for discussion, for explanation of the why of things that have gone wrong - but tacked on to the end of an apology is not the place for it. That comes later, if it comes at all, as the different parties try to work through, together, in openness, whatever the issues are, to try and prevent a repeat. But saying sorry is, or should be, a time of complete vulnerability - otherwise its not really repentence at all.

So here I am making a public commitment that I will do whatever I can to stick to this. If anyone who has read this catches me in the future sticking a "but..." on the end of an apology, you have my permission to call me up on it - to challenge me and make me think. Maybe, with time, and practice, and God's help, saying sorry won't be the hardest word after all...

Sleep, Sleep Tonight

I didn't sleep very well last night. Sleep has never been one of my strong points (ask my parents!), unlike my wife, who managed to sleep through the great Dudley Earthquake of 2002, despite her being less than 2 miles from the epicentre - an earthquake which woke me in Coventry, and even disturbed her mother all the way down in London... Sarah, is definately good at sleeping, in a way that I'm just not.

Last night however was particularly bad when it comes to sleeping. It wasn't helped by the fact that I am currently suffering from a bout of RSI (apparently its Tennis Elbow, which is interesting since I haven't picked up a tennis racket in the last 15 years!) which means I have a dull aching pain in my right arm, a nice tingling numbness in my right hand little finger, and occasionally an almost burning sensation in my right wrist. Annoying and uncomfortable, but not usually enough to hold me back.

But last night, along with the pain, my mind was working at 200 miles an hour, jumping around between things, making me ask questions. For some reason, last night my mind decided it was going to stay awake for hour after hour, reviewing and revisiting the conversations I'd had, the emails and the blog entry that I'd written... reviewing and revisiting, lookng for things I'd said that were wrong, things I should have said that I didn't, things I said at the wrong time and in the wrong way...

I wasn't something I was doing deliberately, I assure you. It wasn't a conscious choice. But once I started down that route, nothing was going to stop it... not for a good 3 hours, until eventually I drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Now, if this sounds self-indulgent and whiny, I'm sorry. Its not intended that way, although maybe that is just an unintended consequence of too little sleep. But out of it all, after all the reflecting, revisiting, reviewing, I've been left with a thought, a half-forgetten memory that has surfaced as part of my thinking, a liturgical prayer from my Methodist past...


"Almighty God, our heavenly Father,
we have sinned against you and against our fellow men,
in thought and word and deed,
in the evil we have done
and in the good we have not done,
through ignorance, through weakness,
through our own deliberate fault.
We are truly sorry, and repent of all our sins.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, who died for us,
forgive us all that is past;
and grant that we may serve you in newness of life
to the glory of your name. Amen."

Because it is right that I stop, look back, and review what I have done - it is right that I recognise that, on each and every day, I will have done something, probably many things which are wrong, which are hurtful, which leave others around me wounded and pained. Often, I won't even know I've done it. But through Jesus, the crucified, risen, and glorified Son of God I can be forgiven, and I don't need to wallow in my wretchedness - I can continue to live in that newness of life, serving him as best I can... and that's a thought that should energise and sustain me, even as I struggle from too little sleep! 

All the Promises We Make....

A couple of conversations recently have got me thinking about work. You see, I like my job. I don't always love it, I'm not always enthusiastic about it, but generally, I do like my job. Its a good, balanced job, yes, it has pressures, and difficulties, and at times it has long hours, but the work is generally interesting, mainly stimulating and usually challenging, which is what I want from something that is going to occupy me for at the very least 40 hours every week. Oh, and it pays well too, which is not particularly the reason I do it, but always very gratifying! ;-)

I like to do a good job. In fact, I am obliged to do the best job I can - partly because they do pay me well for doing it, but also because its the right thing to do - because the way I serve my earthly masters is part of my witness, part of how I, a servant of Jesus Christ, demonstrate to the wider world what it means to be a christian. And not just how I relate to the bosses - but how I treat my colleagues, how I treat those who work for me all makes a difference. Everytime I refuse to join in putting down of someone else, refuse to push myself forward at the expense of someone else, everytime I avoid engaging in office politics, everytime I show active encouragement, support and assistance where everyone else is discouraging, unsupportive and unhelpful - that is part of the mission of God, and a vital part of my sharing in his work.

But only part - because another important part of my witness is how I balance my working commitments with the other commitments in my life - with the promises I make to my family, my friends, my church community. By showing that these things are important - by demonstrating that those commitments are more than just words, but things which actually make a difference to the way I live my life, that speaks louder to the people around me than any words, any "preaching" or evangelistic message ever could --  because it shows that there is more, so much more to life than work. Once we let work define us and rule us, once we start defining out identity by what we do, not who we are, then we start to deny who we really are - much beloved children of the Most High God.

Work (whether paid employment, voluntary work or the vitally important role of a stay at home parent) should be fulfilling, satisfying and engaging - but it can never be the place where we find ultimate fulfillment and satisfaction - if we seek that in our work, rather than in God, we can only ever be disappointed.