Back in the early 1980s I was one of the countless students of London University who worshipped at All Souls, Langham Place (I went there in the evenings; in the morning I went to Westbourne Park Baptist Church when it was small and traditional).  There I would often listen, rapt, to the measured tones of John Stott, one of the greatest expositors of our time.  I recall little of what he said (it was 30 years ago give or take) but I do remember there was one sermon about the God who has come, who is coming and who will come, which I found fascintating and my friends found bewildering... maybe I should have read the signs even then?!  Like many people of my age, my bookcase has a few John Stott works on it and, even though maybe I don't always agree with him, his writing is that of a thoughtful and spiritual man.

News has come through today that he has died.  That he now knows the fulfilment of the promises he preached so faithfully, I am sure.  That he will be missed, I am certain.

As it happens, a book I am scheduled to begin reading includes a chapter by this gentle giant, so there will be a little poignancy in the reading thereof (even if, I suspect, I will take issue with some of what he wrote).

He lived a long and fulfilling life, and I am sure blessed countless people along the way.  Now may he rest in peace.

 All Souls announcement and tribute can be found here

Over the last year, I have learned what it means to be a 'statistic'... I am the 'one in three' of the UK population, the 'one in eight' (reduced from 'one in nine' at the time) of UK women, the 'one in ten' at the breast clinic, the 'one in five' who is under fifty, blah de blah de blah.  And I am me!  Yesterday a friend emailed to say that she was one of the 'nine in ten' at the breast clinic (hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, no one cheers more than those 'in' these perverse clubs when others don't have to join us) but she was keenly aware that as she rejoiced someone else would be grieving.  It's a complex old world where joy and sorrow, hope and fear, life and death, this and that, are always intertwined.

Another friend sent me this link which is about financial support for people living with disability or chronic conditions; you make like to take up the challenge of sending the link to your conservative MP, if appropriate.  It is elegantly and sensitively written.  I am under no illusions that the government of the UK (and the devolved bits for 3 of 4 countries) have a very hard task balancing the books and working out where to target the money, but it is good to be reminded that behind every statistic there is a person...

I am the one in ten
A number on a list
I am the one in ten
Even though I don`t exist
Nobody Knows me
But I`m always there
A statistical reminder
Of a world that doesn`t care

My arms enfold the dole queue
Malnutrition dulls my hair
My eyes are black and lifeless
With an underprivileged stare
I`m the beggar on the corner
Will no-one spare a dime?
I`m the child that never learns to read
`Cause no-one spared the time

I am the one in ten .... etc

I`m the murderer and the victim
The licence with the gun
I`m a sad and bruised old lady
In an ally in a slum
I`m a middle aged businessman
With chronic heart disease
I`m another teenaged suicide
In a street that has no trees

I am the one in ten .... etc

I`m a starving third world mother
A refugee without a home
I`m a house wife hooked on Valium
I`m a Pensioner alone
I`m a cancer ridden spectre
Discovering the earth
I`m another hungry baby
I`m an accident of birth.

I am the one in ten .... etc