Fountain's Thoughts

I am living in strange times at the moment

I have this sort of feeling that I am neither here nor there

Let me explain.

After 14 years of living beside the seaside in Sunny Clacton on Sea, I am about to move. It’s a big thing. I will leave my job, my home, my familiar surroundings and set off for pastures new.

At first, I thought my feelings were being caused by the scale of the task I was facing.  I am only just begun to appreciate how much junk I have accumulated over the years.   Perhaps I am a bit of a hoarder.  I have a wonderful collection of things that “will come in handy one day” and they ended up in the loft for safekeeping. 

Amongst the junk I also discovered a collection of unused stuff.  I am told, we cannot possibly get rid of because, “Great-Aunt Mable gave us that as a wedding present and it would really upset her if she knew.” The fact that she died over thirty years ago, doesn’t come into it.

As I thought about it, I realised that the sorting part is not really at the root of my feelings.  After all, it really did need doing and every so often, we all need a good clear out!

Nor is my problem the thought of moving to a new place with all of the inherent disruption of locating furniture, choosing curtains and carpets.

No, the real root cause of my problem is, I feel as though I am between one place and another and don’t quite belong in either.  I am betwixt and between and I don’t like this “nearly, but not quite.”

The other day, I was mulling over a few things in my mind (I know I should have been packing but, why do today what can be put off until tomorrow?)  I began to think about what the Bible has to say about betwixt and between.

I began to think about the story, in Luke’s Gospel, of Mary and Joseph leaving the boy Jesus in the Temple.  They head home in the belief he was with the other parent.  As that story draws to a close, we hear nothing more about Jesus until he is an adult.  From childhood to adulthood in one easy move!  Silence until, Jesus emerges to begin his ministry. 

What happened through the, approximate, 18 years?  What was Jesus doing between childhood and adulthood?

I also read the promise of the prophet Isaiah when he says;

Those who wait upon the Lord….

Any period of waiting can be unsettling.

Uncomfortable. 

Hard.

I decided to shelve my thinking and start to un-shelve my books.  After all, they would not pack themselves would they?

I do love my books.  I have come to regard many of them as old friends.  My wife frequently asks “do you really need it?” I always respond in the affirmative because, I simply cannot bear to part with them. 

I started to lift my commentaries off the shelf and into a box. These gems, collected over so many years, are used so often that the pages are now dog eared and falling out but I cannot bear to rid myself of them.  A chunk from commentary on Isaiah detached itself and fell to the floor.  I bent down and collected the errant pages, and began to read;

Those who wait upon the Lord…

The Hebrew word “qavah” meaning “eagerly expected” “longed for” “hopefully wait.”

This got me thinking.  Rather than the frustration of being “betwixt and between,” I need to change my thinking.  This is a time of eager expectation for what is to come.

Yesterday, I spent a bit of time sharing about Lectio Divina. Sacred Reading. It is a way of reading the scriptures and allowing them to speak into your heart. One writer describes this way of reading the Bible as “Reading with God.” For me, Lectio is a way of listening with the heart and praying with the Word that God has given.

This morning, in my time with God, I put into practice what I had been teaching. The passage I was led to was from John’s Gospel, chapter 10

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.

John 10 vs. 11-13

It is a well known passage and, because I know it so well, it would be easy to skip over the words and just allow them to remain as words on a page. If I do that, I can miss what Jesus is saying to me.

I deliberately slowed down and re-read the passage. I then read it again and allowed the words to speak to me. I imagined myself, sat at the feet of Jesus, listening to the words as he spoke them.

I felt drawn to the contrast that Jesus draws between himself, as the Good Shepherd, and the hired hand who “cares nothing for the sheep.” This led me to write a prayer;

Lord, Good Shepherd

Carer and protector

Friend

When I am off balance, you right me

When I am lost, you find me

When I am hurt, you heal me

When I am hungry, you feed me

Lord, Good Shepherd

Keep me near to you, I pray

In Jesus name

AMEN

Why not pick up your Bible, select a well known passage, and see how it can speak to you afresh today?

The story itself is a firm favourite of many. 

It is a favourite of mine. 

The two disciples taking an unplanned walk towards a place called Emmaus.  As they take their heartbroken walk there must have been feelings of disillusionment, depression, doubts all mixed in with the fear that the authorities were coming for them too. 

Maybe, for the two, Emmaus represented home, a place of safety and security from the madness that had consumed their world over the past few days.

As they journey, they are joined on the road.

As I read this familiar passage this morning, I felt particularly drawn to the way that the ESV says this in Luke 24 vs. 15;

Jesus himself drew near

I wonder if we appreciate just how powerful a statement this is? 

As I thought about those words, what struck me afresh was that because Jesus is alive today, these words are also true today.  I think our problem is we, like those disciples, don’t always look for him.

In the hurt and anger of our world

Jesus himself drew near

In the rejection and fear of the other

Jesus himself drew near

In our brokenness

Jesus himself drew near

In the loneliness and isolation

Jesus himself drew near

In the war torn and damaged

Jesus himself drew near

Perhaps, our view might be changed if we realise that, in all of life, Jesus still draws near. 

May we have eyes to see him.

Recently, I have joined a writers group. We meet monthly via zoom. We have the opportunity to share experiences, learn from one another and read our work for others to comment on.

Over the past two sessions I have been learning about “flash writing.” You have 10 minutes to write a piece. The organizer uses a Random Word Generator to select a single word and ….off you go.

The word we were given was “Counter”. This is my “flash” piece……

In my mind, I think of the counter I fitted to my bike as a teenager.  Each revolution of the wheel was converted into miles. Every clunk of the counter made me one revolution closer to my target.

In some way shape or form, counters are an important part of all our lives.  Whether the step counter on our smart watches or, the targets we have to achieve for work.  Even in writing, I find myself looking at the word counter to see if I am achieving the magic number.

I don’t think God has a counter. 

He deals in one’s. 

The one lost sheep.

The one prodigal.

The one coin. 

God does not do counters, because each one is precious.

I have just come back from a wonderful retreat.

If you ever get chance, I would recommend a visit to the Penhurst Retreat Centre.  The setting is amazing.  The food, terrific.  The welcome warm and friendly.  This was my first visit to Penhurst and I was soon made to feel like ‘one of the family.’ 

The retreat itself was guided by the delightful Jack and Sandra.  Their gentle and relaxed approach, coupled with the setting, made prayer and reflection a real joy. My only regret is, the retreat was not longer!

I am one of those people who like to journal, and the retreat gave me the chance to really explore some knotty thoughts and bring them to God in prayer. Jack and Sandra were very good at giving prompts that led to deep reflection.

Early one morning, I awoke with a thought rattling around my head that has taken (and is taking) some working through. Naturally, I turned to my journal and made the note;

Sometimes, the process of prayer involves letting go

Don’t worry, I am not heading into the realms Disney and Frozen!

There was an important truth that I needed to work out here. There are the obvious things that need to be let go of. The writer to of Hebrews says;

let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles

(Hebrews 12 vs. 1)

I have often thought of this verse in terms of the negative things in our lives. The words that hinders in the Greek means “weighted down.” When we identify, confess and seek God’s forgiveness for the “hinderances and sins” we often feel much lighter in our spirits.

But, what began to dawn in my thinking was, not everything that weighs me down is a negative. I can hold, very tightly, onto things that I see as “mine” and not want to release others into. I began to feel God asking me “are you prepared to release _______ so that you can come deeper with me?”

Of course, the answer should be “yes” but, letting go is not always that easy!

And so, what began as a journal note at Penhurst, continues to be worked through. I pray for sensitivity to God’s leading and directing as I pray that you too, will be open to God’s leading in your hearts

The scene is a hot, dry and dusty roadway leading toward a small Middle Eastern village on the borders of Samaria. 

Jesus is on his way toward Jerusalem. 

People are crowded around him and his disciples.  The sound of their questions, the urgency of their pleas fills the air; hands reach out, touching Jesus, hoping to draw attention, just for a moment of Jesus time.

In the distance, separate to everyone else stands a group of lepers. 

Isolated from their families, society and even the worshipping communities, lepers were the outcasts of all outcasts, the rejects of all rejected. Shunned by all, through fear of contagion, they would band together to protect themselves against “polite society.”  The Gospel writer even takes the trouble to tell his readers that, within this particular group, there was even a Samaritan – leprosy and fear were great levellers.

In the story, told in Luke 17 vs. 11 – 19, Jesus hears their cries and has mercy on them.

It really hit me. 

Despite all the noise and crush around him, he is drawn to the plight of those beyond the margins.  He hears their cries.

Take a walk around the streets of many towns in Britain today, and you will find those who are beyond the margins. In the town where I am based, we have our own issues with this problem.

If I were to walk into town today, I could easily find the street drinkers, the homeless, those with mental health issues, those who have fallen through the cracks.  Sometimes, these people groups band together.  They do this both for protection and for human company and acceptance. 

But, what I also know is, there are many good people who reach out and try to help them.  Sometimes, it feels as though all we are doing is putting a sticking a plaster over a wound that can never heal, but try we do. 

I confess, at times, this work can be frustrating and show little reward.  We do attract criticism from those in “polite society” who feel we do more harm than good.  We are equally criticised for not doing enough.  At times, we get no thanks at all (if you read the passage you will find Jesus encountered the same).  I have, in my less spiritual moments, found myself praying “O Lord, why do I bother?”!

In my quiet times, I have been introduced to a prayer by an American Franciscan, Mychal Judge.  He was a chaplain to the New York Fire Department and involved in the World Trade Centre disaster.  His prayer goes like this;

Lord, take me where you want me to go,
Let me meet who you want me to meet,
Tell me what you want me to say and
Keep me out of your way.   

Mychal Judge

(I had a real problem with the last line, however, I have come to realise that it means “don’t let me hinder your work.”)

This prayer has become my daily prayer as I encounter polite society, marginal society and those beyond the edge and, as I pray, I trust that, somehow, God will be at work and I will not hinder him.

I wonder if you have ever visited a set of ruins?

Perhaps a Castle, an ancient Abbey, or former stately home.  Through neglect, disuse and historical acts of vandalism, in Great Britain, we are left with these remnants of once magnificent structures.  We can only use our imaginations to picture what was once a thriving hub of activity and is now a heap of rubble.

I often find, as I look at a pile of stones and try and picture a magnificent hall, I have a feeling of sadness.  To me the stones seem to cry out “I once was something worth marvelling at.”  Ruins always have a feel of “once was” about them.

Many of our ruins are in their present condition because they were not required, or fit for purpose, or just too expensive to repair and maintain.  Society moved on and these structures were no longer viable.

That is the thing with society.  It has a tendency to change and develop.

I remember a visit to one abbey and hearing about its history.  As the monks moved away and the buildings fell into disrepair, many of the local people used parts of the abbey to repair their homes, build walls around their fields and construct amenities for their community. 

As society changed, these buildings did not die, they lived on in different ways.

I suppose, what got me thinking about ruins is a passage I was reading in the Biblical book of Ezra.  Ezra was living and working in Jerusalem at the time of major re-building work.  His concern was especially for the re-building of the temple.

This is what Ezra says;

He has granted us new life to rebuild the house of our God and repair its ruins, and he has given us a wall of protection in Judah and Jerusalem.

(Ezra 9 vs. 9)

These words got me thinking about all that has happened in our community and church life over the past couple of years.  I believe, that we are at a time of re-building.  But, like those ruins of old, there are some things that will need to be re-purposed.  There are some things that we will need to leave behind.  There are some things that will need to be, lovingly, restored.

In the time of Ezra, the people came together to re-build the city.

I wonder if the same could happen today? 

Could you be part of the re-building?

At least there is hope for a tree:
    If it is cut down, it will sprout again,
    and its new shoots will not fail.
Its roots may grow old in the ground
    and its stump die in the soil,
yet at the scent of water it will bud
    and put forth shoots like a plant.

(Job 14 vs. 7 – 9 NIV)

I felt battered, bruised and angry. 

Over the course of a few days, there had been the need to face an unpleasant situation.  I had felt that I was unable to defend myself, without making things worse.  So, I had no choice but to “put up and shut up.”

I felt battered, bruised, angry and frustrated and tired and… and… and…

It was somewhat of a relief that I had a Sunday clear.  Unusually for me, I did not feel like going to Church.  I really could not face standing up and smiling and saying how wonderful it is to be a follower of Jesus. 

Today it was not wonderful, it was painful.

There I was, on a bright Sunday morning, tramping through the forest.  Watching the just turning leaves.  Seeing the squirrels running across the path in their hurried preparation for coming season.  Listening to the birdsong and saying “good morning” to dog walkers, joggers and horse riders without having to really engage with them.  Breathing in the good, clear fresh air.

It was as I rounded a bend that I spotted it. 

A tree. 

Blackened and burnt. 

I wondered how it had got in this state.  Had it been struck by lightning?  Maybe it was the victim of some careless, discarded cigarette or match.  As the forest was looked after, I wondered why the foresters had not removed it.  The blasted tree stood as, either a monument to natures power or human carelessness.  I could only look and wonder.    

It was as I turned to leave that my eyes were drawn to something.  Through the decaying and blackened wood, there was a patch of green.  New life was emerging from the deadened tree.  It may have only been the odd shoot, but there were definite signs of life.  Resurrection was taking place. 

At least there is hope for a tree

I may have felt battered and bruised but at that moment, I began to hope that there was also room for resurrection.

If there is hope for a tree, there must be hope for me. 

If there is hope for me, then there must be hope for you too.

One of the highlights of my recent holiday was a walk I took in Sherwood Forest.  I was a very small child the last time I went.  I can remember being taken to see the Major Oak and hearing the stories of Robin Hood!

I was troubled by no outlaws on my perambulation through the forest, it was such a peaceful place.  I marvelled at the ages of some of the trees and wondered, if they could talk, what stories they would tell.  There was one I saw which fascinated me so, I had to take a quick photo of it.

The tree is, quite literally, split down the middle.  If you look carefully, you can see that it is held together by two thick, hefty metal bands.  I had never seen anything quite like it before.  It certainly got me thinking.  I found myself reflecting on some verses from the Bible which say;

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

(Colossians 3 vs. 12 – 14)

I looked at the tree which seemed, to me, a picture of the Church.  There are many things that drive us apart from one another.  The recent pandemic is an example of this; circumstances meant that it was unwise to be together and so, we were forced apart. 

There are other things too.  Opinions, preferences, theological interpretation, ideology all play their part in separating us.  As someone once observed “put two Baptists in a room together, you can get six opinions!”

I think we need to take Paul’s words, written to the Colossians all those years ago, on board.  We need to accept that, not everybody sees things the same way we do.  Sometimes, we need to be gracious and bear with those who do not see what we see. 

The final part of these verses, speak about “putting on love.”  As I looked at the tree in Sherwood Forest, I saw those metal bands as an illustration of the love that the Apostle Paul writes of.

If you use the word “love” some will see it as a weak, wishy washy, emotional response. 

It is not!

Those metal rings holding the tree together are serious lumps of galvanised steel.  They were so solid, that the tree was not going to split any further.  I believe that is the kind of love Paul is writing about. 

As I walked further on into the forest, I found myself thinking, if we do not “put on love” then, all we are doing, is helping the tree to split further.

It’s easy to lose heart.

I imagine that is what happened to Peter, that night on the lake.  In the midst of the storm, as Jesus approached the battered boat he told his disciples to “take heart”.

Peter felt bold, courageous and he took Jesus at his word.  Peter was the one who had the courage to step out of the boat and walk towards Jesus, on the water.  Matthews gospel tells us;

But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’

(Matthew 14 vs. 30)

How do you see the wind?  You cannot, of course. What you see is the effects of the wind.  So, Peter sees the height of the waves, he feels the cold of the breeze, his body feels the chill and buffeting of the breath of air and his mind calculates the danger he is in.

Even though Jesus was there, Peter found out that it’s easy to lose heart.

It’s easy to lose heart.

It happens to all of us, at one time or another.  We may not be boat sailing, storm facing disciples.  We may not even be the bold, walking on the water disciples.  We may think of ourselves as the normal, everyday run of the mill disciples.  When the wind blows we lose heart.

It’s easy to lose heart

The chill wind of criticism; the fear of a hospital visit; the facing of an unknown future; the hurt of a too painful past.  The wind blows, and our little vessel feels its effect.

It’s easy to lose heart

For Peter, that night on the lake, a hand reached out and grabbed his.  I imagine a gentle smile on the face of Jesus, as he says “why did you doubt?”  He knows that it is easy to lose heart.

It’s easy to lose heart, but when we remember that Jesus is present, his arm outstretched, ready to grab us and haul to security, we can dare to be courageous.

It’s easy to lose heart, with Jesus it is possible to find it again.