These words from the Sermon on the Mount are words I've heard times without number over the years, and often with the sermon or commentary conveying a sense that you shouldn't waste you time planning ahead (especially in the lgiht of that parable about the man who built bigger and bigger barns...).  I have never been entirely convinced.

Having the rug of 'taken-for-grantedness' firmly tugged from under my feet back in 2010 (golly, how long ago that is!) not planning too far into the future has become an unthinking default in its own right.  In the early days that made sense as there were always going to be new things cropping up that would have to displace my plans.

Towards the end of last year, two things happened to change that.  Firstly, when chatting to my BCN (Breast Care Nurse) I mentioned that my trip to New Zealand would need to be fitted around my annual check-up... she was stern but right in her reply: never fit your life around these appointments, they are moveable it's not that critical.  Secondly, as I noted a few blog posts ago, I was (finally) discharged by the plastics people.  In some small way, these two changes liberated me from a perceived tyranny of not planning, or at least not planning further than a few weeks ahead.  Significant control, or at least self-determination, was returned to me, and it felt good.

This morning I sat down with a year planner to transcribe from my diary the things already in place, and to begin to think about a shape for the year ahead.  So, the Lent study series is in, as are several meetings of committees or organisations.  The monthly home communions are planned in, along with some key dates for the Commonwealth Games when we might  be opening our doors to the general public.  And the dates are in for the next set of Advent reflections!

I still don't take the future for granted - I'm not sure I ever will entirely - but it seems safe enough, and realistic enough, to make some medium term plans.  I think my congregation have been very long suffering as I've plodded along never looking far forward these past three years or so, and I hope that now we will be able to be a teeny bit more adventurous as we dare to look to a farther horizon.  I find I feel more energised and enthused than I have for some time

Lilies don't spin or weave, and they are beautiful;

However fleeting, they send forth seeds in the hope of another sowing, another flowering.

Birds do not sow or reap or store in barns

But they carry with them the seeds that will, somewhere, some when, feed a new generation

Don't worry about tomorrow

Don't expend your energy if 'what ifs', 'SWOTs' and endless risk assessments

Live today to its maximum potential

And scatter your dreams and reasonable expectations

For another tomorrow -

If not for yourself, then for those who will follow

Decadent God, who dresses hillsides with flowers

And fills the air with birdsong

Show us to live

Present-minded hopefulness

That inspires, anticipates and even precipitates

Tomorrow's promises fulfilled

This from Archdruid Eileen is great fun, and is a game I like to play too!  There are many variations of course, depending on the style, tradition and repetoire of the congregation concerned... such fun to get the Taize lot to sing Doug Horley, or the Kendrick convention to try something in Khosa, but then I'm just VERY mean.  Even in churches with good repetoires, and with things I've used before, people still claim never to have heard of it... another 250 units in the confusion jackpot!

And so to naff lyrics... I was listening as usual to PAYG this morning, and the stilling music today included the line 'nothing ever lasts forever' which wins my prize for naffest lyric of the week.  I don't need great poetry, and I certainly don't need worthy but unsingable complexity, but I think that line takes the biscuit for bland banality!

Last Sunday I attended worship at my 'sending church', the church of which I was a member at the time I heard and repsonded to my call to ordained ministry way back in 1997 (yikes that's now a long time ago!  I didn't actually start training until 1999).  When I was there, there were always problems with the roof, which were regularly patched up in the hope of getting through one more winter.  This year the roof finally gave up the ghost, so the 'sanctuary' arera is out of use, forcing the congregation to meet in their hall.  Welcome to the world of tablernacling churches!

Inevitably once you leave a church, your paths diverge, and yet the shared history remains precious.  Your lives are inexticably linked, but you find you are less and less alike... or maybe it's just me!

It was a real delight to see lots of children in the congregation, mostly grandchildren of the people I knew when I was there, and also a decent number of younger adults (25 - 30 age band).  As well as the stalwarts, all a little more silver haired, and several now with walking aids of one sort or another, there were a number of rough sleepers for whom this is a safe place to be.  It was especially good to meet the NAM minister who remained with them having completed his training at NBLC.

The service was all age, interactive and included a number of creative ideas... not sure I'll be copying them but it was good to see this church pray together playfully.

Camping in our own back yard is normal for the Gatherers; Dibley have been worshiping in a 'tent' for just over nine years now; some churches have never done anything else; many churches fear it.  There is something about this transient, temporary making-and-breaking of 'sacred spaces' that, for me anyway, is an authentic echo of Biblical praxis... a very old stomping ground to which we are invited.

Every blessing WBC as you continue your journey of disicpleship, ministry and mission in your own back yard.

Back to work, and back to sermon preparation - the day has flown by between chossing hymns, sorting out the all age bit, doing a bit of exegesis and wondering quite where my mulling will lead me.

Out of curiosity, I decided to do a quick search of my sermons/services ranging back over a deacde or so, to see when else, and on what themes, I have used one of the passages that the lectionary offers for this coming Sunday... it turns out I've used it six times, three of those in the last four years!

Isaiah 42: 1 - 9 has prompted thoughts on...

• resurrection (or more specifically characteristics of 'being a place called resurrection'*)
• mission
• prophets
• active waiting
• Pentecost (action of God's spirit)

None of which is where we are headed this week and each of which still seems to be a justifiable use of the verses.  All of which illustrates, were illustration needed, that there is always more light and truth waiting to be released using words from the Word that speaks of the WORD (assuming your knowledge of Barth is up to that allusion!).

I guess what I like is that whatever theme or scheme we dream up (or assert that God gives us) the same ancient texts still have something to say.  This week... ah, that'd be telling!

* in Leicestershire there is a place called Anstey, a name which derives from anastasis, which in turn means 'resurrection'.  This inspired me to ponder what it might mean to be a place called 'resurrection'.

So, today I am back at work after a lovely week off seeing family and friends.  It has been a late start as I had my annual hospital check-up at the breast clinic to go to first.  I love my team to bits, they are so incredibly switched on, know stuff about their patients (or about me anyway - they always ask how church is going) and instill lots of confidence and hope.  Mr Wilson, Dr McBain, Sr McLeod you are simply the best.

Anyway, the great start to my New Year is that, subject to mammogram results, I am now three years (well 2 yrs 11 months if you want to be pedantic) NED :-)  This is splendid news and always prompts far more delight than I can explain in words.  Celebratory lemon and poppy seed bun and LARGE SFT latte consumed, and now I can begin work with a huge smile on my face.