I stumbled across this when looking for something else (which I'll be using tomorrow at church).  This little book of folk tales is refreshing - it explores the same (or similar) themes to many more familiar stories but the novelty brings the ideas afresh, and gives some pause for thought.  Not taxing but gently thought provoking.

Language is complicated and fluid, meanings of words change over time.  Meaning is determined in context, and contexts are not always that easy to define.  Back in the days when I was an engineer, many reports and conversations would begin with the call to 'define your terms'.  What do you mean by 'x' and is it the same thing that I mean by it?

This morning I am mulling over some ideas for the sermon, and have become very aware of the contextual nature of so many of the words and concepts to which I might refer.  Not that this isn't always the case, but somehow it feels more so today, possibly because of some of what I am mulling, and my own, inevitable, interpretation of words and phrases which may, or may not, accord with those of others.

I have some ideas for the sermon - not the ones I had when I began the series, it has to be admitted - but I am not yet sure how best to explore and express them.  Even so, words are the comparatively easy part - the real challenge is how I translate my words into deeds.

A number of conversations in the last week or so have given me lots to contemplate (and I'm grateful for that) and part of the challenge lies, I think, in the definition of terms and neither projecting my aspirations into statements nor deluding myself that things are other than they are, or appear to others to be.

So, whilst I don't really like not having any words written down yet, I am allowing the ideas to swirl around a while longer, trusting that what emerges might be whatever it is God would have me express.

Yesterday was more than a bit crazy.  Another experiment in ways to travel from Glasgow to Northants in a day to visit my Mum.  Not one I plan to repeat - it meant leaving home at 4 a.m. yesterday and not being back until 1 a.m. today.  It meant two taxis, one coach, four planned trains, one unplanned train, two tube rides and two flights (which was the real experiment).

I flew with a budget price airline that, in the past anyway, has attracted a lot of negative publicity.  The service felt quite bargain basement, it has to be said, but it did exactly what it said on the tin.  Boarded on time, took off on time, landed a few minutes early either end.  Hassle free.  Well done Ryan Air (even if your recorded landing announcement complete with literally blowing your own trumpet is really annoying!)

Arriving at St Pancras, and realising that due to a slip on my part, I had booked a train much later than intended, I approached the customer service staff and asked if I could please alter my ticket.  A surly reply came, "no".  But it has printed on it that I can, I replied.  Well you'll have to get a new ticket - the machine's over there.  Eventually I gave in , went to National Rail and was met by a friendly, helpful young woman who offered me alternatives - an upgrade at a ludicrous price and two (still dear but affordable) new tickets.

Returning from Wellingborough, the train stopped at Bedford and a series of announcements, every couple of minutes informed us that there was "an incident" at Harpenden, which morphed into "a fatality" and then "a person struck by a train" before the one announcing the service was now cancelled and we could get a train in 40 minutes time to begin a complex alternative route to get to London (Euston rather than St Pancras)... a quick check online and that would have taken around 3 hours and I'd have missed my flight.  So I spoke to customer services again.  Really helpful this time.  No information available but recommending that I stayed put as they were fairly sure something would be sorted sooner than the suggested route.  And it was.  And I made in plenty of time for my flight (Standsted is pretty quiet in the evenings, even when going through security meant being behind a large group all of whose bags were sent down the ''reject" shoot!)

Finally the 23:30 coach from Edinburgh airport to Glasgow arrived and as the driver opened the door his face told all - a face like pot/thump/fizz/thunder (depending where you went to school!), he snatched my ticket, then bellowed at the remaining passengers to hurry up.  I couldn't help but notice a sign on the side of the coach saying "Edinburgh Airport welcomes the world"... oh dear.  Welcome to Edinburgh/Scotland/Britain.

All of this left me with a lot to think about.  About prejudice and preconceptions.  About attitudes as well as actions.  About the reality that people who face the public can be tired and tetchy, and who knows what might be going on in their own lives.  It made me ponder my own outward presentation, and propensity to defensiveness and spikeyness when I am tired or feel (rightly or wrongly) I am being criticised.

And I was especially reminded of the beauty, frailty and vulnerability of life.  Yesterday in Harpenden someone lost their life, a family and friends were left bereft, a train driver was traumatised, bystanders witnessed something horrendous, and across the rail network lives were disrupted, some of them in ways that may have been equally tragic.

I'm not sure this really says anything much, it's probably just the ramblings of a sleep deprived mind, but life in all its fullness played out yesterday, and gave me much food for thought along the way.

Earlier this week, I decided that I wanted to use some images at the start of tomorrow's sermon.  Over the years I have collected a number of striking images that have been used in worship, including the iconic image of the naked girl fleeing the napalm bombing.  I had pondered using Shoah (Holocaust) images and others that depicted attrocity/suffering throughout the twentieth century, and then decided instread to stick with 21st century images.

Then came the whole Facebook debacle over whether or not this photo contravened their nudity policy.  And actually, whilst I think the photo should be permitted, their initial response raises important questions.  As a rule, we all agree that posting photos of naked children is inappropriate, if this had been a photo of a naked child refugee, or a naked child playing on a beach, it would never have been allowed.  So where is the line to be drawn?

I made a very conscious decision in my choice of photos for tomorrow to avoid any that directly depicted dead bodies, even covered corpses, and specifically avoided any of injured or dead children.  The photo of Aylan Kurdi lying face down on a beach just over a year ago may have had shock value, but a year on, how many more children's bodies (and adults) have been washed up by the tide.  There is a very real risk of voyeurism and exploitation of sorrow on the one hand, and a cheapening of life/death on the other.

So it's a tricky one.  Photos and images are hugely powerful and can express things that words alone will never capture.  At the same time, the twin risks of sensationalising and desensitising, and the potential for some sort of sanctified titillation are very real.  Clearly, the iconic photo has no sexualised intent, it would still be shocking and horrific if all the children were fully clothed.  At the same time, not one of the children captured in the image had the opportunity, let alone permission, to consent or otherwise.

No answers here, but I am left to ponder where the fine, fuzzy, lines should be drawn over using images such as this one.

This week I've decided to swap the sermon theme with that I had scheduled for next week, because it feels that the theme is a better 'fit' for Sunday 11th September - 15 years on from the so-called 9/11 events.

It was interesting reading ver the sermon I wrote on the same theme (from James, not 9/11) thirteen years ago, and realising how very context-specific it was.  Context as where, context as when, context as who, context as why... I reckon it was an OK sermon, the thrust of it is pretty much timeless and non-specific, but it is also one that could not simply be lifted and preached in this place, at this time to these people.

My creative juices are working and I have some ideas begining to coalesce.

September 11th 2001 was the day I went for dinner to the manse of the church in South Manchester at which I would spend the last two years of my training.  I had agreed to bring dessert (I have long since forgotten what I made/took) and we would talk over what the placement might involve.  Inevitably we spoke about the events that were still unfolding, a mix of incredulity and bewilderment.  I guess the sermon that Sunday offered some kind of response - but I don't recall that either.  Memory is a funny thing.  Sometimes every tiny detail is seared into our subconscious, sometimes we struggle to recall anything at all, and either is fine.  I guess that's part of the challenge of preaching - that context is never concrete or absolute.  What is hugely significant for one person is meaningless to another.  The same day that some people celebrate, others are devastated by tragedy.  And I, as a preacher may oblivious to all of this... which makes the task both easier and more difficult... which is why preaching differs from teaching, if only in tiny ways, because of that inexplicable something that is God's Spirit at work.

If you want to listen to something truly beautiful and helpful to aid your own reflections on 9/11 or on tragedy at a more personal level, then go here, and listen to the words of Provost Kelvin Holdsworth at 19'48"