Cover

This book comes from my time as a minister in the Church of Scotland. During those years, I went through a very difficult period, where I could not speak at all. For a time I thought I might never speak again. During this difficult period, I began painting, I took up writing poems again and I began to put together meditations and thoughts based on my understanding of the words found in the Bible.

I wanted to bring it alive in a new way. I found this helpful in the silence of my situation. I can, in all honesty, say that this was the beginning of a life of meditation and contemplation. It has brought me to where I am today.

In this book, you will find poems written during this period, there are thoughts that accompany the poems. You will find Biblical based meditations and Biblical accounts, told in a new, and I hope, refreshing way.

The contents of this book, now rewritten, helped me through a very difficult time. I offer it humbly in the hope that it brings insight to you the reader.

Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my gratitude to a great number of people who over the years encouraged me to produce this work. Those of my three congregations at Motherwell Manse Road, Shotts Calderhead as it was known in that day and Clackmannan parish Church where it eventually found its way into print. Changes were asked for at that time by publishers and the project was shelved while I left the Ministry, to go back to University to become a teacher of Philosophy and World Religions.
Over the years, many asked me what had happened to it and encouraged me to think again about looking at it once more. I would like to thank them for thinking it was worthy of the time. The friends who took the time to read it as I worked on it and helped to proofread the manuscript and the final copy both know who they are and I thank you sincerely for your endeavours. This has not been an easy task because it has meant going back and reliving some difficult memories, I thank those who have helped me with this also. This whole work came out of a period where I was unable to speak and did a great deal of hard thinking. There were many who helped me through those days, I thank them. Much of the material helped me through those very difficult times and I hope they encourage those who read them now.

A Walk To Emmaus

A Walk to Emmaus

It is a warm day as you travel along a dusty dry road. It is the middle of the day and the noonday sun is at its highest point in the sky. Two others are walking with you. As your feet hit the road the hot dry dust rises and you can taste it on your lips.

The talk is all about the crucifixion, all about the man Jesus, whom they had watched being nailed to the cross. They, like you, had watched as he died and committed his body to his God and Father.

As you walk you are aware of a feeling of despair and deep sadness.........  The heat of the day only adds to the feeling of melancholy..........

The two speak of the high hopes they had held of Jesus and how those hopes now seemed dashed and in ruins..........

Think of some of the hopes and the dreams that you have nurtured that had not come to be........... remember how you have felt as you remembered these hopes.................

The two begin to speak of their fears for the future........... what should they do now? ..... would it be safe for them to return to where they had fished and lived?...................

What if the same happens to them as they witnessed happening to Jesus?...............

Think of the things that in the past have made you afraid of the future...........

As you continue along the dusty trail feeling the warmth under your feet you are joined by another, a stranger...........

He joins in the discussion. You tell him of the thoughts the three of you have been having......... You speak of unfulfilled dreams and hopes...........

You speak of your fear and anxieties for tomorrow.............

You continue along the road.......... as evening approaches and the day begins to cool............ one of the disciples suggests that it is time to stop and make rest.......... and eat.

You enter a house at the side of the road. Still, all the talk is about Jerusalem and what happened there in the past three or so days............

The stranger begins to speak again this time he talks of the prophecies about the one called Messiah..........

One of the other two begins to take from the bag strung around his waist, some food and wine.............

As they sit and make ready to eat they quietly think about the day and all the talk............

Again you are aware of some of the fears you have for the future...........

All for sit at the rough table.......... One of them gives a blessing..........

The stranger reaches across the table and takes into his hands some bread......... he breaks it...... as you watch you hear again the words, "This is my body broken for you."

You look at the stranger and for a moment it is Jesus that you see.......

He hands a piece of the broken bread and once more you hear the words, "This is my body broken for you."............

You take the offered bread...... you eat........ and in the stillness, the fears for tomorrow and the future dissipate...........

You pause and consider your life and remember the times when you had felt alone.......... Now you realise that at no time were you ever alone.

The thoughts and fears about tomorrow disappear as you hear that inner voice remind you of the words of Jesus, "Lo I will be with you to the very end."

All your fears leave you, there is no more terror about the morrow. You are ready to face the here and now and to live life in all its fullness..........

You are full of Joy and Peace

Give thanks.    

Amen.

The Crucifixion

The Crucifixion

You are in the very busy streets of Jerusalem, It is an early Friday morning. it seems to be very much busier and noisier than a normal Friday morning. The crowd sounds angry. Your head is full of the noises of shouting and jeering............... mocking words can be heard............  fingers are being pointed.

You wonder what exactly is happening. You push your way to the front of this rabble of a crowd. 

You see three men, across their shoulders, are large spars of heavy wood. These are the spars that will slot into the upright wood that will make the crosses on which these three men will be nailed and will die.

They are struggling under the weight and it is plain to see that they have been beaten and tortured prior to having to carry these spars. Every so often the three slow their pace and the Roman soldiers who are there take up their whips with their many tails and spikes and lash the backs of the three men. You can hear them as they eat into the flesh, you can almost feel the pain.........

One of the men you recognise to be Jesus, the same Jesus who had ridden into Jerusalem a few days earlier to praise and adulation. As you watch Jesus falls to the ground....... The soldiers lash out telling him to move. He picks himself up and again slowly makes his way forward up the narrow road...............

The crowd follows and you walk alongside Jesus and he toils under the weight.......... No longer do you hear the yelling of the crowd you are caught up in the pain of this man........... Your heart goes out to him.

Again Jesus falls........ again the soldiers beat him about the head and body.......... You so wish you were able to move forward and put a stop to this or offer some help to Jesus.

Slowly they move forward again............

Once more Jesus falls............... This time one of the soldiers turns to a large strong looking man and makes him lift the spar from Jesus' shoulders..........

The procession of men and soldiers with the man now carrying Jesus weight head towards the city gates and pass out through them, you move with them..............

Not far from the gates there is an ugly formed hill, Golgotha..............

They make their way to its summit and the three spars are left to fall to the ground with a clatter............

Two of the soldiers manhandle Jesus roughly throwing him to the ground on top of the large spar that he and the other man have carried to this place.............

From a leather pouch around his waist, one of the soldiers draws out a large-headed iron hammer and three very long nails sharply pointed pieces of metal..........

The first of these pieces of shaped metal is placed to the wrist of Jesus........ his arm is stretched out by the other soldier and the metal is hammered home............. You can hear the shattering of bones as it penetrates.......... The soldier keeps hammering making sure the metal is firmly embedded in the wooden spar............

It is difficult to watch................

The other arm of Jesus is stretched out and the process begins with another metal rod and it is hammered through the wrist of Jesus into the other end of the spar...............

Ropes are secured to both ends of the spar and pulled upwards the body of Jesus hauled up the large standing tree like wood that had been made ready for this act............

It is pulled until it falls into the notch ready to take it. You hear as it falls into place forming the cross on which Jesus will be left to die............... His feet are crossed and the last of the three metal spikes is driven through his feet and into the triangular bracket that is fitted to the down spar of the cross..........

You watch, and you can feel the tears run down your cheeks as the final crash of the hammer secures his feet...............

The gathered crowd and soldiers jeer and mock, taunting Jesus and the other two............. One of the soldiers yells, "get yourself down from there." .................

A ladder is brought forward and one of the soldiers brings forward a prepared notice. The soldier climbs level to the face of Jesus and nails this notice to the cross above his head. It reads, "Jesus, King of the Jews."..............

Jesus turns and looks to the prisoner on his right-hand side and says to him, "Today you will be with me in Paradise......... This man had spoken some words to Jesus about them deserving to die but him not....................

It begins to rain........... The sky turns black and threatening........ thunder and lightning fill the sky.......

It feels like the middle of the night but it is still only before three o'clock in the afternoon............

In one of the lulls between claps of thunder, Jesus can be heard speaking loudly, "Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?" ............"My God, My God why have you forsaken me?"

You watch with a heavy heart...............

Again Jesus calls out........  "Father forgive them, they know not what they do"....................

You feel something very meaningful touch the inner depths of your being as you hear these words.........

You move a little closer to the cross.......  your eyes are held by his eyes, even in all of this agony and horror there is a feeling of love and caring............

You stop............ you look up into the eyes of Jesus............

Jesus speaks to you..............

You become aware of many of the past errors and faults of your life but you are aware of a deep feeling that this is now in the past forgotten and forgiven..........

Jesus calls out one last time, it is three o'clock........... he says,  "Tetelestai", "It is finished."

Finally, he calls out, "o patéras sta chéria sas diaprátto to pnévma mou" "Father into your hands I commit my spirit."

Slowly you turn and walk away, not as you would have expected with a heavy heart, but in a real sense of having witnessed something very special happening. You have a sense of having been freed from all past sins and errors.

Give Thanks

The last Supper

The Last Supper

You enter an upstairs room having climbed a narrow staircase. The room has bare white walls, and at the far end, there stands a table that has obviously been made ready for a meal. From what appears on the table it is clear that the meal that is to be celebrated is the Passover. The two things that give you this is the presence of a boiled egg that has been blackened by being held over a smoking candleflame, the other is the unleavened bread.

Around the table, you see reclined on cushions the twelve followers of Jesus. Sitting in the centre spot is Jesus. There is a feeling of expectancy in the room, mixed with the general feeling that comes with the celebration of the Passover. The Passover holds a very important place in the lives of the Jewish community, they are to celebrate it with their master and Friend. The joyful feeling is only slightly incomplete, in as much as some of the followers of Jesus are not fully aware of the depth of what had happened as they entered the room between Jesus and Mary Magdalene and a jar of very precious ointment.

There is though, in spite of this, a real air of anticipation, and joy.

You are part of this, allow that feeling of expectancy and joy that is in the room to flow into your being..............

The last of the celebration meal is being brought to the table by the women who had been in the upper room for some time prior to the arrival of Jesus and his disciples, preparing the meal.

You are invited to take a seat at the table and do so, trying hard to not be too noticeable..........

The disciples are all talking about the years they have spent with Jesus travelling around the country, slowly but surely heading towards Jerusalem, where they have now reached. You let the words sink into your mind.............

The meal begins and Jesus reaches over to the unleavened bread. You watch as he raises it to the level of his chin..............

He breaks it in half,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, He looks around the table making eye contact with each person present...............

Your eyes and his meet.............

You expect to hear some of the words recited at the Passover but instead, in a quiet voice Jesus says, "This is my body broken for you." ......  For you.............

You let these words sink in.......... What is Jesus speaking of? What does he mean by saying his body is broken for them?

There has been much talk of the danger of them entering Jerusalem. Is Jesus speaking of the possibility of his death at the hands of the Romans?

If so this means this bread represents the body of Jesus.......  If it is broken for you as he says does this mean that if he dies that you might find something?  The forgiveness he spoke of often????????

The bread is passed around the table each present takes a piece and eats it including the women...........

The meal progresses, quieter now as those present consider what has just happened............

Again Jesus reaches over the table, he this time picks up a large tankard of wine.  He lifts his eyes again and once more your eyes meet his.

You hear him speak again, this time he says, "This wine is my blood shed for you.".............

There is no doubt now what he is meaning. Jesus is most certainly going to die and he is saying he is doing it for all who are gathered, for you...........

There is a deathly hush around the upper room. Everybody present is letting these words sink into their thoughts.........

"This is my body............. This is my blood."............

There is little doubt, Jesus is aware that he will die here in Jerusalem, and his death will have a deep meaning..............

Allow that to sink into your inner being. This man Jesus has walked into a certain trap and death will be inevitable and he has done so knowingly................. For you...........

You watch, him and the disciples........... There is a very close bond among them......... They do not wish to lose him, he does not want to leave them, but he will.............

He is telling them he will do so for them............

He is doing it that they and you might live life to the full................

Past mistakes will be forgotten because they will be forgiven............

You were given the broken bread, his body broken............. Think of all the things in your life that need forgiveness........... for such his body will be broken.

You have tasted and shared the wine that Jesus said was his blood............. Think of all the things that your fear.......... all the things that hold you back from being what you can and should be.........

For this, his blood was shed......... That you might have life...........

From the hands of Jesus, all have taken the bread and the wine, all have been given the bread and the wine......... Including Judas.

The meal draws to a close..... a very different Passover from expected..........

Judas has left............ he has other things to do...........

Think of all the times you have heard those words repeated. "This is my body broken for you. This is my blood shed for you."

How often have they been no more than words? Part of a ceremony. For some, one of the few services of worship they attend and the words mean little.

Remember that this service is part of the church of today. Full of depth and meaning. It still offers freedom from past mistakes and faults. It still offers a new beginning every time the words are repeated. "This is my body broken for You. This is my blood shed for You."

The Healing of the deaf and Mute Man.

The Healing of the Deaf and Mute Man

Life before the day I am speaking of had always been very difficult. Have you ever attempted to tell somebody something important without the ability to use words? Some of the children of Decapolis played a game where they tried to do just that, but for me, this had been no game.

I had to live all my life up until this point doing just that trying very hard to help them to understand what it was I was trying to say. They also had difficulty, they did want to understand me and make me a part of the group and conversation, but they so often struggled to make out what it was I was trying to convey to them.

I could not hear, I could not speak and I had a head full of ideas that I so desperately wanted to share with others.

How often I felt so alone because others had given up on me or they were too embarrassed to be seen in my company. Then there were those times when somebody had given me time and shown a great deal of patience, yet I ended up frustrated, unable to convey to the person those inner thoughts. Then came the anger; this was by far the worst. It was also self-defeating, the angrier I got, the worse it became.

To be really honest it was amazing I had any friends at all. Yet I did. Friends who in spite of all things continued to show me patience, even when I least deserved it; friends who tolerated the anger and time after time made allowances for my behaviour. Friends who once they managed to understand what it was I was trying to convey became very understanding and helpful. How grateful I was that they had stayed around all those years.

A few days ago they came to me and spoke to me about a man, a man by the name of Jesus. He was going to be in the region not far from where we lived. They felt that he could possibly help me and my situation. They were trying very hard to convince me that it might be worth my time going and trying to meet him. After all, what had I to lose?

My first reaction was to say no, something I never found any problem conveying, a simple shake of the head was all it took. I was aware that such a reaction would result in a long and difficult attempt to explain my reasons for not wishing to give it a try. They seemed enthusiastic about this idea and I became aware that saying no to could lose me the only friends I had. They seemed so certain that this man, Jesus, would be able to help me.

It seemed a shame to disappoint them with a simple shake of the head, to take away a very genuine desire to help me. It could indeed do no harm. What else was I going to do anyway? There was very little I could do, except beg on the street corner.

So we set off to go and try to meet with this man Jesus, the man from Nazareth. As we travelled the road it became very obvious that we were not the only ones with the idea of meeting and listening to him. Everybody seemed to be heading in the same direction as us. There seemed to be only one thing on the minds of the many, to meet with Jesus. He really was a crowd puller.

When, after travelling in the hot sun, we eventually arrived, he was surrounded by a great many people. There was a real feeling of excitement in the air, even though I could not hear it I could sense it.

My friends were not the sort of people to be deterred in any way. They began to push their way through the crowd pulling me along behind them. I could not hear what was being said to them but I could see in their eyes that there was much anger in the air, I was familiar with this.

Eventually, we stood in front of him, the man Jesus,; he was looking at me and I at him.  It became very obvious to me very quickly that this was no ordinary man. being unable to hear or speak I had learned to develop the use of the other senses I had. I had learned to read what people were like, I was able to see beyond the outer person and discern the quality of the inner being. What I saw when I looked at this man intrigued me.

I saw my friends take hold of his arm and pull them closer so that they would be heard above the crowd. Of course, I could not hear what was being said, I could almost lip read the odd little bit, but I would be lying if I said I fully understood. What they were saying was something about putting hands on me. I was not sure what they meant by that.

The next thing I knew was that his hand was on my shoulder and he was taking me away from my friends and the crowd. His followers stepped between us and the crowd instructing them to stand still and wait. He gently led me to a side street, I wondered what this was all about.

Once we were far enough away I felt his finger touching my ears, those useless organs. My first thought was, please do not hurt me, my second almost instant thought was to wonder if I had cleaned my ears that morning? It is strange what goes through the mind when you feel unsure of just what is happening to you.

Then I watched as he spat on his fingers, so much for me wondering about cleanliness. He reached towards my mouth, which I am sure was wide open in awe. "What was all this about?"

I watched as he put his fingers towards my mouth and then I felt the touch of his finger on my tongue. He looked skywards and sighed, he said, "Ephphatha." I knew that this meant, be opened. 

Then it dawned on me, I had just heard him say that word, I had heard him say it. No doubt about it I had heard the word, Ephphatha.

I had heard, I could hear. I said, "Thank you."  it did not for one-second express what I wanted to say but I could not find any other words. Then the reality hit me, I had thanked him, the words, only two of them but they had been spoken by me. I was ecstatic.

Then I became aware of the sounds of all the people not far from us. How thoughtful Jesus had been, he had taken me aside from the crowd to protect me from a terrible inrush of sound. Such would have been far too much for one who had never before heard a sound, never mind a noise like I was hearing faintly.

Then my friends were there beside me. I spoke to them, "Shalom."  I saw the amazement in their eyes and on their faces. They began jumping up and down holding each other almost dancing with excitement. They were excited, I was excited.

Once more I felt that strong yet gentle hand on my shoulder; it was the hand of Jesus. He asked us to leave, but in an insistent way told us to say nothing to anybody. Speak to nobody about what had happened down that side street. I could speak. I could hear. Tears were flowing done my face, how could I possibly not tell everybody about what had just happened? Never! I want to shout from the rooftops of every home between here and my own house. I wanted the world to know.

When Jesus opens the ears of the deaf they hear of his love. When the mouths of the dumb are opened they only wish to sing praise.  Those who do not wish to hear good news or sing for joy have not begun to understand the joy of the Word. For once you begin to understand the Word even the stones would shout praise.

The Woman Who Touched His Cloak.

The Woman Who Touched His Cloak

Can you imagine for just one moment what it is like to be classed as unclean, as an untouchable, a person to be avoided? Then let me tell you just exactly what it is like. It is in no way something that could ever be called fun.  To watch people who once spoke to you cross the street to avoid you. To be aware that the market traders will not look you in the eye or touch you when you reach out to take your purchases. They make very sure there will be no physical contact between you and them.

I can tell you how terrible it is when your family keep themselves well out of contact with you, it hurts deep in the heart. How I longed for the touch of a human hand, to be held by my husband to touch my children's cheeks. it is like living each day in your own little hell.

There was just no solution anywhere. It is not possible to pack up and go anywhere else because it would be just the same there. Then of course. I was bound to the family, bound to my religion. To move to another town would only impound my problems, then I would be totally isolated and there would be not one person who even cared.

So I am sure you can imagine how I felt that day when I heard that the man Jesus was not far from town and was heading our way. I had heard so much about him, the things he was saying and the things that happened in his presence. I wondered that day if there could be a help for me if I could just get close enough to him. I was sure that if I could just speak to him that his words would be a great help and comfort to me. I had heard all kinds of reports;  people who had been helped to walk. those helped to see, the tales went on.

I just had this feeling that although I had suffered all those twelve years he would be able to lift this heartache from me. There were others who had been lying on their beds for longer than me who had found help.

That night I could not sleep at all. I tossed and turned all night long as I thought of the next day and the possibilities it might hold for me. The next day came and I arose full of excitement I had never felt before. I wanted to be out there awaiting his arrival. Each hour seemed like a day and each minute like an hour as I waited. I could think of nothing else.

Then there was a crowd of people and the word was moving around them that he was on his way. I looked and there in the distance, I could see him surrounded by people. How was I ever going to get anywhere near him, so many people?  My heart began to sink my hopes began to dissipate.

I knew that I must not come into contact with him, I was unclean. Somehow though I had to be able to speak with him, he was my last and only hope.

Just as he drew near, I saw a gap appear a way open up before me. I was going to get my opportunity to just speak with him. Just at the very moment, I moved forward a well-dressed person of high rank stepped in front of me. He was one of the ruling class, I was a mere untouchable.

He spoke to Jesus. I saw the pain in his eyes as he did so. He was telling Jesus of his daughter who had been so ill he was sure she was on her death bed. He was asking Jesus to go and lay his hands on her that she might have a life again.

His need was far greater than mine, of this I was certain.  More importantly, there was a child who had a life before her. Her life was like a candle that was being snuffed out and her only a child. True, my life was not all that I had hoped for but at least I still had a life. This small child it seemed was losing even that. As I watched and listened I could see and feel the pain of this family. How could I possibly detract Jesus from this man and his needs? They were greater than mine ever would be.

I stepped aside and watched as he walked past me with the grieving ruler. My heart went out to him and I prayed the Jesus would indeed be able to help him.

Then, like a bolt from out the of blue, it came to me, like a blinding light. I do not need to speak to him, I do not need to detract him from what is much more important. The task at hand for him and the ruler is much more important than mine.

If I can just lay one finger on his cloak, even just the hem of his cloak would be enough. I was convinced this was all it would take. One touch, one small touch on the hem of his cloak, this was all I needed. Never before in life had I felt anything as certainly as this.

I moved forward; I reached out; only one or two centimetres was all it would take. I hesitated, was I about to break all the rules? Was I about to call live coals onto my head? NO, I felt sure it would be fine. I reached out once more and this time I felt my fingers just brush off the hem of his robe.

It was an amazing feeling. I felt life flow through me touching every single part of me, every fibre of my being. I felt well like I had not felt for years. I could reach out and touch others because of this fleeting touch of the cloak of this man, this Jesus.

I had thought it was time to just slip into the background. To return and show myself to the chief priest and return to my family. How I longed to see them, to touch them, to hold them.

It was not to be so simple. Jesus turned and I saw those penetrating eyes looking at me and through me. I felt a moment of panic, but his eyes were full of encouragement. "Take heart, my daughter," he said. "Your faith has this day made you clean." So calmly he accepted what had happened, what he had done for me. So lovingly he sent me on my way.

What about the little girl? She was restored to full life. Sounds all so very simple, and so it was. Two families rejoiced that day. Two families had experienced a resurrection.

The briefest touch of another can often change the lives of those who seek and are in need. To be touched at the very core of your being can change and restore us. So reach out your hand, stretch forth your heart that they may be touched like touching the hem of His cloak. For life can be changed in a fleeting moment if the mind is open and ready to receive.

Fear of the Unknown

 I remember (No More)

I watch the drops of rain run down the window pane,

small rivers following their unmapped course.

I have watched this window day after day

                    for long and weary months.

I saw the man with the mower in the summer sun, 

and remembered stacks of grass, we jumped into and threw at each other.

I remember other things we threw, 

like the stones against the glass.

I hear the sound, and feel the fear

of being caught.

Running until breathless, hiding.

I have watched the falling leaves

from trees of gold and brown.

Watched as the last one held on.

Willing it to stay for me.

I remember the rustle and noise of fallen leaves,

kicked underfoot with a joyful sound.

Through this "pain,' this pane.

I have monitored the days gone by and seasons change.

Summer to autumn,

to this the winter of my life.

I remember sledging children,

laughing, cold, yet full of fun.

No more these things of life for me.

No more to lie and hold my husband fast.

No more the sounds of summer joys,

or children's hugs.

No more, for life is swiftly moving on.

But, no more do I fear

tomorrow or the next.

For through this pain.

I have caught a glimpse of Him.

I have seen beyond tomorrow,

and today's deep sorrow,

to the gates of life eternal.

My heart has heard a whispered voice.

That speaks of more to be.

For even death cannot divide.

All that is bound with He.

Written after speaking with a young mother of two children,  dying of cancer in a hospice room. Also another two friends, Kate and Sandy, who I was with as they parted this world. All three I felt privileged to be with through this time and they touched me in so many ways.

Fear of the Unknown

"Do not let your hearts be troubled; trust in God and trust also in me. In my Father's house, there are many rooms; if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you with me, that you also may be where I am."

John 14: 1-3

Over the years I had listened to a great many ministers declaring that they had no fear of death. They held absolutely no fear at all within them of the prospect of life coming to an end.

On the other hand, had to be honest with myself and my friends that I was envious of such people because this was not my experience. Sadly, I was not so honest with members of my congregations, for like others. I said that death held no fear. I must have sounded convincing because in all my years as a minister, or at any other times had anybody questioned my sincerity. 

That being said, I always had a deep and nagging suspicion that I was not removing any fears from anybody. I suspected I was preaching a hollow message, I certainly did not feel full of courage in the knowledge of the inevitable.

I could never, though, put my finger on what it was that I feared, what it was I was afraid of. I had been with a great many people as they died and it did not seem at all frightening. In fact, I cannot remember a single person whose death did not seem a release. A release from frailty or pain.

I had this recurring thought in my wakeful nights that I wanted to watch my children grow and mature and become settled. I did not want to leave them. Whatever it was, I was afraid of death and because of this fear, I often felt a hollow feeling in speaking the words of resurrection and life after death. I discussed this with fellow ministers and every time I left feeling worse and wishing I had not raised the issue.

Then I met this young woman dying from cancer, the word we seem afraid to speak of. We spoke together and shared our thoughts and fears and together somehow we began to find fears disappear. As we shared, her fear seemed to disappear and with hers so mine. 

The experience changed the rest of my ministry.  it led to other similar experiences and encounters and I was no longer wary of speaking with those facing death. Once such a person, the mother of a very dear friend and a member of my congregation, strengthened my experiences as she shared her feelings, her illness and her dying with me. A dear elder of my last church asked me to be with him as he died. Between these three wonderful people, my fear of death and dying was lifted.

So much is lost when we play games in the midst of death. Pretending it is not happening, or that we have a faith that is not real. Such moments are too precious to pretend. Those three, and many others since have assured me that death is not something to fear but to face. They still speak to me and have done so over the years and in so doing live on in my life. 

Poppies.

Poppies

I was feeling low,

in dark despair.

Caught in a time warp of my own,

a black and lonely abyss.

Not a thought beyond my own.

No cares beyond the cares of selfish me.

Poor little me.

Why is life so cruel? I asked.

The beating drum of ME, ME, ME

and MY,  MY, MY.

Drowned every sound

except the hammering noise within my head.

Then there before me,

                                       blood red in all their glory

                                     stood a field of poppies.

Their vibrant hues pulled me from my pit.

Back into the world of wonderful creation.

I thought of years of blood,

                                          poured forth for such as me.

Wars fought by man,

                                          that I might have this day.

Free to wander the paths of life.

There before me,

                                    blood red in all their glory

                                stood a field of poppies.

I thought of Him,

            who emptied out his life.

I heard birds sing,

around the beauty I did see.

     No more the thoughts of ME. 

Then, in the sound of silence,

I heard a voice.

And drank the deep refreshing joy of life,

with thankful heart.

How precious is each beating moment?

And won at such a cost.

I can do what I want with my life.

How often over the years have you heard words such as those, "I can do what I want with my life. It is mine, and you cannot tell me what to do."

I can remember uttering these very words as a teenager on more than one occasion. At that age, we can almost be forgiven for not fully understanding the sacrifices that had been made on our behalf or the concern that parents and family had for our welfare.

The trouble is that many never grow out of those selfish ways of thinking, we cling to our thoughtless attitudes. This present age in which we live almost positively encourages us to think this way. We are encouraged to do our own thing, to think first and foremost of number one, self-centeredness is the mode of the day.

Maybe once we have made it in life, become successful, become a great entrepreneur, we can look back and let our wealth trickle down to those less fortunate.

Such selfish thinking can only, and has, led to a divided society in which the poor get poorer and the rich increase in wealth owning. Around us, we only have to look to see the increasing broken relationships and families. Society itself becomes torn asunder.

The deeper such thinking eats into society the more the younger generation look around them and wonder what life has in store for them.

It is not only at the level of society that damage is done. Such selfish thinking is far from good for the individual. It frequently, and more often leads to loneliness and in turn despair. Another consequence of such thinking is the increase in those who think that they should always get what they desire. All desires should be fulfilled. Many even believe that it is the right of being here, society owes us a living.

We can see those who, when they do not get exactly what it is they want and when they want it,  throw a tantrum.

How many times during my ministry I came across people who had left the fellowship of the church because the minister had said something they did not like to hear. "I am not listening to that," they say and off they head. Some to another church but many more to the womb of their own thinking and living.

Sadly, even within the bounds of religion, it becomes little more than a pick and mix of comfortable ideas with a personal faith challenged by nobody.

How much time is spoiled quietly walking the paths of resentment, building up new and better ways to, "get my own back." 

One day I saw a field of poppies, so unexpected and magnificent. It lifted me from selfish thoughts of myself to the many sacrifices that had been made on my behalf. If this was true for me it is equally true for us all. Nobody is an island.

It is worthwhile, from time to time, stopping and considering the many who have made sacrifices for us even when we did not ask for such. To consider and rejoice that they have. As a society, we need to ask ourselves if we are being true to all of those who have gone before and given much, often their lives, that we might have ours. 

Your favourite Spot

Your Favourite Spot

We all have a favourite spot. A place that holds fond memories, of happy times. maybe it is a place that you went to in the past with a dear friend or with family, but no longer go to. Or maybe it is a place that even now you retreat to when you wish to be alone and find some peace and calm. We all have at least one such place.

I would like you to take a moment now to relax and picture yourself in this very place. Picture the place in your mind's eye. It may be the case that this place inspires sounds or even a pleasant scent. Allow yourself to be there now, hear the sounds. Can you feel the air on your face, maybe the sun is shining and you can feel its warm touch? Relax, look around let the feeling of calm fill your being, sense the joy that this place brings you.

Enjoy....................

Feel......................

Be at one with all you sense and feel...............

Now, as you enjoy this favourite spot, imagine Jesus joining you. Allow him to enter the scene and be with you. Watch as he walks over towards you and without any words sits beside you.............

Look into his face and be aware that he is enjoying this place with you. Your favourite place is also bringing peace and joy to him.............

Having shared this, your favourite place, with Jesus now I would like you to invite another to join you. This is your place and you have already shared it with Jesus. You may not ever bring another to the place in reality or thought, but now invite your very best friend into this place now. Watch as this very dear person walks over and joins both you and Jesus. Allow this fellowship to feel good. Together enjoy the peace the harmony and the calm of this moment..........

Again look into the face of Jesus. Notice that he is enjoying being in your favourite place with you and your friend. He seems at one with your favourite place as much with you on your own as he does with your friend being there also...............

Be at peace in this scene .....................

For a moment hold this scene in your mind and let the peace flow into you. Feel the calm of the moment.

Now in this moment of quiet peace and calm, with your friend and Jesus just relax. Now I ask you to invite into this place, into this moment that person that you find so very difficult to have any good thoughts about. it is not easy to disturb the peace and the calm but look to the side and see this difficult person..............

AS this person comes towards you Jesus goes forward and greets the person.........

Look again at the face of Jesus as he stops before this difficult person. Notice that he looks at this person in the very same way he did both you and your friend............

The love, the peace and the gentle calm that he brought to you and then to your friend he is now giving to this new person.......

With Jesus and your friend reach out and take hold of the hand of this person. All four joined together in harmony. Jesus has the same love for each one.........

Watch and be aware as Jesus puts a hand of blessing on each of you in turn.......

Hear him gently say to all of you, "Be Still."

Be still and look again towards the face of Jesus, look into his eyes. Feel the love flowing from him towards you. Feel any anger you felt for this other person drift away as you hand it to Jesus.

Listen as Jesus speaks to you..........

Sit calm and at peace as you watch all three of them depart your favourite place. Allow the calm to flood over you and into you.

Your favourite place has become a place of love, peace and reconciliation. It is a place you can return to whenever you feel the need. it is a place where you will meet with jesus and find what you seek. Give thanks that life is good.

The Lord is My Shepherd.

Alone

Alone I wandered.

White capped sentinels high towering.

Through the valley of the shadow.

I meandered.

Mystic majesty.

Creation of wonder.

Around and near,

yet feel no fear.

Light of the sky,

                        light of life.

Light and Life for me

majestic beauty.

Behold the beholder.

Small I may be.

But here I see. 

A hand in all.

In Me;

As I am part,

          at one.

Creation and Me.

The Lord is My Shepherd

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have everything I need.

He lets me rest in the fields of green grass,

and leads me beside quiet pools of fresh water.

He gives me strength.

He guides and leads me on true paths,

as he promised.

Even though I go through the deepest darkness.

I will not be afraid, Lord.

For you are with me,

where all my enemies can see me;

You welcome me as an honoured guest,

and fill my cup to the brim.

I know your goodness and love 

will be with me all my life.

And your house will be my home

as long as I shall live.

Psalm 23.

I remember walking one day in the Ochil Hills in Scotland in the middle of winter. I was meandering or as we Scottish say I was stravaiging, through a deep valley. The hills on either side were steep and capped with snow. I was following the course of a stream as it wound its way down to join, and become part of,  the River Forth. 

The depth of the valley made me very conscious of my stature. As I wandered the clouds began to darken and look threatening. For a moment I felt very alone.

How easily this place could become a frightening place to be, how easy for it to become, "the valley of the shadow of death.' yet I did not feel afraid that day. Neither did I feel alone.  The very opposite was the case, I felt very much at one with everything around me.

I realised I was very much a part of all of this, part of this wonderful creation. For that moment I felt very aware of being in this place for a reason. I felt as though I was meant to be there at that point in time at this moment. I was here to experience this frightening beauty, and to know I was not alone.

I heard in my inner being the words of Psalm twenty-three. I heard the line, "Even if I go through the valley of deepest darkness, I will not be afraid."

Those words in this setting brought a deep sense of the meaning of the words. They became more than just words on a sheet or in a book, they became living and real.  I did not feel alone, it was as if I did indeed have a guarding shepherd. 

I became aware that day, that life has indeed many frightening moments and times. But even in such moments, we need not fear. That because of this even death itself has no sting. We are in life never alone. We are ever surrounded by God or as others say, Chi. To be at one with creation removes fear.

The Rich Young Man.

The Rich Young Man.

I was raised in a very strict family home. My father was a very religious man, and a regular attendee of the synagogue, he made sure that I also attended and paid attention to what was happening and what was being said. So I learned from the teachers of the law.

As I grew older I frequently became involved in the synagogue discussions and help my own in many of the religious debates. In truth, it was often the case that I more than held my own; I frequently came out on top of the debate. I did enjoy debating with the elders of the synagogue.

As I grew older the things of the synagogue became less important. What I was really looking for was how to find the way of life that would bring me happiness.  I wanted," the good life." I still made sure that I kept the commandments, I observed all the holy days and festivals and I made all the sacrifices expected of a young man like myself.  I often did that little bit more than was expected of me, so I lived my life fulfilling the laws of the synagogue and yet seeking to find the way that would bring me more.

All of this I did and yet I kept asking myself what was it that was missing from my life? Why was I not happy? I felt unsettled and seldom content and kept asking myself what was it that I was looking for? Something was missing, something that I just could not put my finger on. 

I was well off financially, I had all and more than a young man of my age could expect to have. In reality, I was better off than a great many of my peers. I had a good job, I had servants who did all the things that we would rather not have to do ourselves. Why then was I not content and happy with my lot? What was it that was eating away inside me making me feel restless?

It was while I was doing all this inner searching and asking myself all these questions that I began to hear talk of a man named Jesus. I heard exciting rumours about this man, people seemed to be stirred by his words. He was preaching and debating with people about seeking and finding the Kingdom of God. 

The more I heard about this man the more I felt convinced that this seemed to speak to my inner yearnings. There was something about his talking of having a true relationship with God that stirred me. I found myself asking if I did, in fact, have any real relationship with Him? This man Jesus seemed to be saying that it was possible to have a life full of religion and yet not know God. He spoke as if there was a quality of knowing. There was a difference between knowing about God and actually knowing God.

This seemed to be very much in harmony with the thoughts I had been having. I found myself more and more plagued with the questions, did I know God, did I really know him?

Another thing I heard that he spoke about was inheriting Eternal Life. That certainly took hold of my inner thinking, here was somebody speaking about some of the deeper more meaningful questions that often filled my thinking. This I wanted to hear more about. He was talking about life, and more than life, this was indeed radical thinking.

I made up my mind that I had to seek out this man and speak with him. So I set about finding out where he was and where I could make sure I had the opportunity to speak with him. This was not difficult, he was after all the talk on everybody's lips.

Finding him was, as I suspected not at all difficult, but finding an opportunity to talk with him was not so easy. He was constantly surrounded by people.

After a few attempts, I managed to find myself near the front of the crowd, helped by my obvious wealth and fine dress. "What do I have to do to inherit this Eternal Life you speak of?" I asked him. I had found an opportunity to speak with him and I was not going to waste it talking small talk- get in there with the important questions- do not waste this chance, I thought.

I was taken aback. He was having none of my superior attitudes. Without answering me he began to question me about my life. What did I know about God and religion?

I left him in no doubt. I told him that I kept all the laws of God, that I attend synagogue worship regularly, that I did all that was expected of me and a little bit more. 

Then came the ridiculous. "Then sell what you have and give it to the poor," he said. "Then come and follow me."

You have to be joking I thought. Sell all I had, and give it all away. Give away all I possessed? This man must be mad. Whoever heard such stupid ideas and suggestions? It was God who had given me all that I possessed so why would I want, or why would he want me to give it all away. I reasoned that God had given me all of this because I was a good and righteous person.

Why should I contemplate for one moment giving away all I had? I was certain of one thing, such talk was nonsense. This man had got it all wrong. Give away all I have?  Such talk was utter nonsense indeed.

So I turned and left. As I walked away I expected him to follow after me. He had spoken of joining him and following him, he realised that I would indeed be a good catch, a good person to be part of his band of followers. There would not be many with the wealth that I had who wanted to do right by their religion, he was sure to come after me he would not wish to lose me.

No, he did not come after me, he left me to walk away. Twice I wondered if I should return and give him a second opportunity to change his mind and accept me as I was. Deep down inside as I walked away from him I knew I was deluding myself. This man was not going to come after me, he had spoken his mind and was not going to change it. 

I could see that and that this was going to be no more than one of those little episodes in my life.

Yet I still to this day feel that there is something sadly wrong with my life. My religion does not bring any sense of contentment that seems to be with those who follow, "The Way," seem to have. That is what they are now calling the followers of this man Jesus, followers of the way. They, unlike me, seem to have found a feeling of inner peace and a real sense of contentment. I still do not have that courage required to give myself to follow him. I am tempted but afraid to make the decision.

It is the case that if we desire to find meaningful life and purpose in our lives it will not come free. Sacrifice has to be made. It frequently means letting go of some of the things that stop you from finding that inner peace and calm. It is no simple matter to put your trust in a belief or an idea if it means letting go of the things in life held dear. 

Christmas Alone.

Christmas Child -Easter Man

When life is full of questions, 

and no answers can be found.

When clouds seem dark and black,
 despair is all around.

When the road ahead seems frightening.

Each day is hard to bear.

We can feel so lost and helpless,

with not a soul to care.

If we turn our eyes from the moment,

from the day

to find the child of Christmas,

as he lies amidst the hay.

We can see the Man of Easter 

and the horrors of the cross.

Then we know he hears our calling,

our every single loss.

For the Christmas Child is near us

we do not stand alone.

Not only at this season

is he here to take our hand.

Each day throughout the year.

 He travels there beside us,

in all things, with us, he takes his stand.

So let the CHILD OF CHRISTMAS

be a gift to you this year.

And have the MAN beside,

throughout the coming year.

Christmas Alone.

"In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him, nothing was made that was made."

John 1;1-3

Christmas, Easter, Birthdays and Anniversaries; some of the high moments of life. It is so often at these times that we become aware like at no other time of our frailty. These events and moments make us acutely aware of all that happens around us. A wedding anniversary when a spouse is no longer there to be part of the celebration seems like a pit of emptiness. A birthday spent alone can be equally as desolate.

Christmas like no other can be the very worst. We are bombarded from every angle about the message of joy and good tidings. We are reminded not just daily but many times a day that this is the season of goodwill and families.

The deadline for parcels and Christmas card sending is fast approaching. For most people, these positive messages can become reminders of what once was and now how alone you have become.

Cards do not drop through the post with every postal delivery and the thought of preparing a special meal to sit and eat alone can be destroying.

My first ever Christmas after becoming a member of the Christian Church and fellowship was spent away from home. For possibly the first time in my life, I sensed loneliness and aloneness. 

I was living in a commune and all the members of the group had gone to stay with family and friends. As I walked home from a midnight service I had attended I was very aware that it was now Christmas day and here I was utterly alone.  I knew for certain that I was not the only person who would be full of such thoughts and feelings. For me this was the first of many; it would be one in a string of such empty lonely Christmas days.

There was a Christmas Tree in the flat where we all lived and I sat down in front of it and felt the tears of loneliness run down my cheeks.

I looked at the tree and became very conscious that this symbol of Christmas held all the ingredients of the Cross of Easter. For the first time ever in my fairly short life, I became aware of an inflowing peace and calm. A calm that passes all understanding. The peace of Christmas wrought from the cross of Easter.

To speak of this peace that passes all understanding takes on a real sense meaning only when we are aware of the pain involved in that peace being available to us today. If the wood of the tree speaks of the desolation of the Easter man then it speaks aloud hallelujah of the joy and comfort of the Christmas Child. 

A Good meeting!

A Good Church Meeting?

I entered the hall,

it was full of mingling people.

Groups of happy smiling cheerful souls.

A man sat at a table and called the meeting to order,

he welcomed me as he had all others.

I felt at home, among friends,

yet strangers.

The chairperson spoke with a genuine fervour

of the aims and purpose of their being there.

Others spoke, of how they had been brought

 from dark to light.

Each, one then another,

told of the Good News.

How far they had fallen, 

but now they were back and the way ahead looked good.

I spoke as I had so oft before.

Aware of the love that filled the room.

I was uplifted,

I was refreshed and renewed.

I left that hall as if soaring on the wings of eagles.

A new purpose in each stride.

Oh, that every meeting was just like this,

How glad I was that I was there.

Yet tinged was my heart,

for this was not a meeting of a church,

not a Christain gathering as such.

For I was there that night as a guest

of Alcohol Annonymous.

I had learned much as I tarried in their midst.

For hear I saw the Love of Christ

as seldom had before.

Like no church I had ever known

had ever shown.

Had a leper entered there that night

a welcome they would find.

No questions would be asked,

of why they came or who they were.

As at a good church meeting

A Good Meeting

"My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favouritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to to the man wearing the fine clothes and say, "here is a good seat for you, " but say to the poor man, "You stand here," "or sit on the floor at my feet," have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?"

James 2: 1-4

While on holiday one summer I took time on a Saturday evening to discover where the nearest church was and to read the noticeboard to find the times of the services the next day. I was pleased to discover that the church closest to the caravan site I was staying on had two services the next day. One was to be held at the normal time held every Sunday of the year, but there was also to be an earlier one. It was mentioned that this was to try and accommodate holidaymakers who might wish to make the best of their day. It sounded to me that I had found an interesting and seemingly friendly congregation making arrangements to be helpful for visitors.

I decided there and then that I would attend the early service at 9-30 am. I arrived at the church in plenty of time and on entering I said good morning to those on duty at the door. They were there to be the welcoming face of the church and to make sure I had a hymn book for the service. I got what could only be described as some rather grumbled good mornings.  Nobody asked if I was a visitor to the area? Had I worshipped there before? Maybe I was new to the area and a possible future member of their congregation, but nobody had time to find out. A sullen good morning, then back to the conversation I had interrupted.

I entered the church itself and found myself a seat.  As I sat down I turned to say good morning to the person sitting just a little further along the pew. Just as I was about to speak the owner of the head turned it away from my direction.

The minster came into the church and before the service itself began, he announced that there would be coffee after the service, in the side hall. After the service, I went to the hall and purchased a coffee and waited for some conversation. It did not happen, I was left standing and the various groups who obviously were regular members spoke among themselves. I was left alone. I left alone without a single person even taking the time to acknowledge my existence.

I returned to my car ready to head off back to my caravan and family. In the glove compartment of my car I had a clerical shirt and clerical collar. I had conducted a funeral service just before leaving to come on holiday and had placed it there and changed into summer attire.

I decided to put it on and return to the church for the later service.  This time I was greeted at the door like a long-lost friend. I did not have to even say good morning. When I sat in the pew I had sat in earlier a man sitting further along moved closer and began to speak with me, as did the person sitting in the seat in front of me.

Now possibly on my earlier visit, I had just had a very bad experience and not the normal, but I suspected not. I was certain that the fact I was now wearing a clerical collar had made a vast difference.

I have visited churches where the response had been the very opposite to my earlier experience, but sadly not very often and what I had witnessed and experienced earlier was sadly the norm.

I have been at gatherings and services so often where I have been made to feel like an alien from a different planet. My poem above tells of another meeting I had been invited to be a guest speaker at. I was very conscious of the fact that at this meeting every person who entered the hall was treated like everybody else. It mattered not what they were wearing. Each individual was treated with the greatest respect and made to feel welcome and wanted.  Total strangers were very quickly introduced to others and instantly accepted as part of the group.

We must if we are to take the hand of the man from Galilee, learn that we have to take the hand of the person that has found themselves in our midst. It must matter not what the hand looks like. It matters not the colour of the hand or its cleanliness. This person has been put in our midst and we must react as Jesus himself would have in that same situation.