Journalling is meant to be an ongoing thing, not something you do when your ideas are fully formed, when the books are read and reflected on - or so I've been told for the last umpteen years - they are a record of developing thought, unfinished, maybe unfinishable explorations, stuff and nonsense, profound insights and who knows what else.  All of which is by way of saying that I have read around 70 pages of the novel Gilead about which people are raving (in a positive sense) and wanted to record what I "think of it so far."

It is certainly a clever and intriguing novel, with no chapter breaks (yet, and a flick through pages suggests maybe one near the end) so it offers a different reading experience from the usual 'one chapter before bed' type of thing.  At the same time every now and then you get a larger gap between paragraphs and once in a while the *** that used to appear in 19th Century stuff.

Recently as part of preparation for a funeral I was lent a DVD recorded by the deceased to be played after his death.  The feel was very similar to what I have read so far of Gilead - one incident linked to another, seemingly unrelated, and then he returned to his thread.  I have noticed the same when I talk with older people who can talk for ages, going "all round Bill's mother's" before returning to complete an account of some utterly trivial incident.  If this is part of the author's aim, then she's done a good job - it certainly feels authentic.

Some people have said this the first 'Barthian novel.'  I don't know what they mean - in the style of? with theology of?  I know, because other people have quoted chunks of it, that Barth gets mentioned in the novel.  What I would say is that reading the novel, for me, feels a bit like reading Barth.  I like Barth - but (or because) it is demanding to read and although (or because) sometimes when I think I've understood him I realise I haven't.  I have to read him in English (I never learned German) and I usually read him out loud and quite fast because, for me, this brings out the energy of his arguments and makes his writing feel exciting (someone will no doubt tell me he spoke slowly and thoughtfully...).  Perhaps it's as well I live alone!!  Gilead I read silently, but find myself developing a mental southern drawl, which again somehow brings the words to life (I usually read in my own accent).

I don't know whether I'll conclude that this is a great novel, worthy of all the praise others heap upon it.  But I will continue to read it, to find out what it has to say and to allow it to make me think a bit.  After Mark Haddon's short sentences and punchy paragraphs (A Spot of Bother) it is a very different undertaking to read this novel - but that's no bad thing.

A last thought (for now) the title of the book reminded me of the old, and no longer used hymn "There is a balm in Gilead"

There is a balm in Gilead
To make the wounded whole
There is a balm in Gilead
To heal the sin sick soul

Sometimes I feel discouraged
And think my work's in vain
But then the holy spirit
Revives my soul again

If you can not preach
Like Peter
If you can not pray
Like Paul
You can tell the love of Jesus
And say, "he died for all

Whether this hymn was partly inspiration for the novel, I don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised.

Today I received an electronic questionnaire as part of someone's DMin research.  It wasn't asking the questions I'd thought it would, but none the less it poses interesting (and relevant) questions.  I have in the past undetrtaken this type of research and know how difficult it is to phrase questions so that they are adequately unambiguous, so I'm not being totally mean in what follows.

As I went through the questions, I found myself wanting to ask 'what do you mean by....  'sacrament' 'charistmatic annointing' (or even 'charismatic' and 'annointing') and so on.  It might not have altered my answers all that much, but at least I'd have been clearer what I was responding to.  Too much post grad work of my own, perhaps?

Does ordination ontologically change the person?  Is it 'indelible'?  Is there such a thing as 'ordination grace'?  Does the Holy Spirit come down afresh on the person as certain words are said?  And if so, what is our basis for believing any of the above?  Really good questions (these are the ones that popped into my head, not the ones printed on the sheet).  But I was expecting questions more about practice - what a minister does.

Of course the two are intimately related.  How I understand what a minister "is" affects what I think a minister "does."  I'm sure the ontological quesiton ought to drive the practice question, I'm not sure the connection always gets very well worked out.

I wonder, too, how much ontology and discipline issues are actually related (they both appeared in the questionnaire).  Can a person do something to invalidate their ordination?  And what does that mean if you see it as a sacrament or as being indelible?  Can a person be called 'for a season' as well as 'for a life time'?  I have always assumed I was being called for life, and nothing has changed that view, but maybe others have a different experience.  What happens if an ordained person loses their faith - as happened to a friend of mine this year?  Was their ordination never really valid?  Or are they still ordained and just don't know it?  What if a person commits "gross misconduct" and then is truly repentant?  Or if the church later redefines what it means by that term?  What might have happened if God had 'struck off' Moses or David?  How does grace feature here?

The questionnaire raised some interesting thoughts for me, and it will be intriguing to see what the outcome of the research is.  Amost as intriguing is the suggestion that there exists a normative Baptist view on this - I thought everyone knew that where there are N Baptists there are N+1 opinions!!  (And you have no doubt spotted that I'm keeping quiet about my answers, thinking (I hope) ordinance theologian that I am)

Today I went to see Evan Almghty - good, clean fun with some thoughtful moments.  Definitely more funny if you know your OT a bit and a portrayal of God that was positive without being twee.  Some evil puns along the way, lots of animal antics for 10 year olds to enjoy, and a message for those who need a moral to any tale.  It's ratings aren't the highest, but I enjoyed it.

What were the bits that struck me?

Evan carrying on building his ark, even though everyone thought he'd lost the plot and his family left him.  I sometimes wonder if we have a rosy view of the life of the prophets, forgetting that they were probably ridiculed, forgetting that people thought they were mad (they did do some very odd things!).  I also found myself recalling Jesus' words about coming not to bring peace but division.

Joan's (Joan of Ark, geddit?!) conversation with God (Al Mighty according to his name badge) about how prayer is answered was profound.  Cutting through feel good or prosperity theology to answers that get worked at... reminded me of the prayer attributed to an 'unknown confederate solider'  - I asked God for x and I experienced y.

The idea that the ark was God's intervention into the consequences of human sin rather than the flood as God's wrath meted out to sinful humanity.  Subtle but significant.  Also the fact that, in this story, the people who had scoffed did board the ark and survive the flood.

I am also always intrigued by how God is portrayed physically in recent films.  This God as an older black man in contemporary clothing worked well in this story.  The most radical protrayal I've seen, and one I really liked, though I did not much care for the film, was in Dogma, where at the end of the film God appears as a young woman turning cartwheels in a garden.  I like the idea of God enjoying creation and cartwheeling for pleasure.

Evan Almighty is first and foremost great fun to watch, with a very funny 11th commandment at the end - but it could also be a great resource for exploring topics with church groups or even in outreach as a discussion starter.

If God started sending some of us letters in gold writing, I'm sure life would be clearer - though probably even more challenging!

Worth seeing, in my unsophisticated opinion.

Telling people I'm conducting a 'cross cultural' marriage has been an interesting and learning experience.  Some think it's great, some clearly do not; thankfully no one has cited texts about unequal yokes (yet).  As I've prepared, and reflected, I realise that I have in the last decade or so 'travelled' a long way in my own thinking.

There are ministers who won't marry people who live together.  There are ministers who won't marry people of different ethnicity even if they share the same, active faith.  There are ministers who won't marry people who have been divorced.  There are even, I suspect, ministers who won't marry people who aren't believer Baptised (and certainly a few Anglicans who won't marry people who aren't infant baptised).

Most ministers, though, will quite cheerfully marry couples who have no outward faith commitment of any kind.  Pretty churches and chapels can, it seems, earn lots of money by welcoming all comers to join the conveyor belt (a local church has three on one Saturday this month).  Have we sold out somewhere or are we expressing gospel?

I'm not sure I'd marry anyone, no questions asked, but I'd need to be pretty clear why I was saying 'no.'  Truth is I'd be more likely to say 'no' if I was unsure about the quality of the relationship than on 'ethical' grounds.  If that makes me a hopeless heretic, well, pray for me!

It so happened that the day our couple chose to visit the church we are borrowing coincided with a united service led by our link missionary.  She, with decades of cross cultural experience didn't bat an eyelid at the idea, and said that she was always pleased when someone of another faith wanted to honour that which was good in our own.  Perhaps working in a nation where proselytisation is prohibited, she has learned valuable lessons.

For me, there were many good reasons to say 'yes' to this marriage.

Firstly, I need to say that ethnicity is irrelevant.  In fact it is so irrelevant I don't want to say any more about it. 

Next, the couple wanted to marry.  In an age where there is no requirement for marriage, when they could simply live together, they wanted to make a covenant of commitment (I could waffle about UK marriage law, Biblical silence on marriage, the changing nature of marriage from a landowning and power perspective to 'love-matches' etc, etc, etc but that would be long and boring).  This is a couple who are clearly committed to each other, a relationship that has withstood testing and matured over several years.  In as much as anyone ever does, they seem to have understood what they are entering into.

Then a bit of self-examination.  I would marry a couple with no overt claims of Christian belief, I would also marry a couple when one or both had been previously married, I would marry a couple who were living together, and I think I could marry a 'David and Bathsheba' couple.  Was this case any different?  I don't think so.  Ten years ago I would have been very unsure about this (and probably quite dogmatic), but who am I to say 'no' to a couple who want to enter a covenant tolife-long commitment and, specifically, to do so within an explicitly faith-based context?  And, for the record, it isn't even a pretty church!

It has been challenging to work through forms of words, discerning what I feel a need to retain and what I can let go, whilst still being authentic to my Christian faith.  Recently, as part of our DPT summer school I was reflecting on the minimum I felt needed for a Christian funeral.  One of the tutors, a Methodist, and possibly more sacramentalist than I (not that that's difficult) suggested that my very presence as a sign of the Church achieved this.  It is true that we incarnate (for better or worse) what we believe.  Whether standing in a Baptist chapel and being married by a Baptist minister makes this a Christian marriage, I'm not so sure - to me marriage is not the same thing as the wedding ceremony.  What it does do is to explicitly set the wedding within the compass of faith, and, specifically, Christian faith.

This young couple have many challenges ahead of them - I have tried to encourage them to think carefully about how they will apprach expectations from their parents abourt naming and blessing ceremnoies for any children they may have (praise God we're Baptists in that respect!), and even things like festivals and funerals, which will one day need to be negotiated.

It would be great if, one day, when they are old and grey, they could look back to Saturday and see that it was an important milestone in their life together.  Of course I'd like them to find their own faith in Christ - if I didn't think that was important I wouldn't be a minister, but I also recognise that that is God's task, not mine: my role is to be and speak Good News, a gospel that is not constrained by my own partiality. 

Now we see 'in a glass darkly' - how true.  Three things remain: faith, hope and love.  I hope that God's faithful love is what we demonstrate this Saturday.

Anyone got any suggestions for commentaries on either Haggai or Malachi?

I now have two or three general purpose' minor prophets ones (including one that is scary, deeming itself capable of discerning the outworking of God's wrath on foreign dictators/nations in our own day) but would like some ideas for more focussed reading.

I am contemplating using Haggai's rebuilding the Temple stuff with 1 Peter's 'living stones' (a theme I return to from time to time) and Malachi on God's love and our response - a kind of stewardship thing.  Each is a 'one off' as our autumn is and endless round of specials from harvest to Remembrance to One World Week to Bible Sunday to a pulpit exchange to .... and then it's Christmas.

Any other thoughts or ideas?