Someone at church passed this story to me today (I later found it online).  It is decidely kitch, and may induce vomitting in some readers, but I like it, if only because we get away from the old bloke in the long white frock syndrome...

A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of root beer and started his journey.

When he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman. She was sitting in the park, just staring at some pigeons. The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase. He was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her some chips. She gratefully accepted and smiled at him.

Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered her a root beer. Again, she smiled at him. The boy was delighted! They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they never said a word.

As twilight approached, the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave; but before he had gone more than a few steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman, and gave her a hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own house a short time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you so happy?" He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned to her home. Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face and he asked, "Mother, what  did you do today that made you so happy?" She replied! "I ate potato chips in the park with God." However, before her son responded, she added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime! Embrace all equally!

Have lunch with God....... bring chips. 

(Or, if you want something a bit more Biblical - it has faint echoes of Matthew 25 and Hebrews 12:2 (I know how to use a concordance!))

My poor old mushy brain has spent a fair amount of time chewing over the above question.  And all because I have about 4 days to edit an essay to make it read better before I can deliver it.  I was meant to be able to do some work on it this morning but being asleep after yesterday's ~20 hour marathon it didn't happen.  Ah well.

The question goes something like this...

One of the threads in Post Modernity is about language and how it constructs/shapes the world rather than reflects it. The linguistics and semiotics bit notes that understanding occurs within closed systems (cultures) and that, roughly in the words of my nice little essay, 'creates power within in a culture and is a bar to understanding beyond it.'  I even note the role of insider language in the academy.

At the same time there is the theory that in actual fact once a piece of writing is set free into the real world (not that such a thing really exists of course, it's a construct) the power over interpretation is lost, and real readers can interpret what is written as they find authentic.

Almost, it feels, as a kick-back to this, the academy lays down ever stricter rules on style, presentation and, it almost feels, language (vocabulary).  I'm not at all sure how the real Post Modernists get around this - do they give in and play the game, or do they refuse and deliver essays in 24 point comic sans, double sided, single spaced with an arbitrary referencing system?

I think what I'm trying to work through is a question that is something like 'how much I write in the style I naturally do' (short sentences, short paragraphs and uncomplicated vocabulary) and how much do I give the customer what 'it' wants?

My essay definitely does need some editing, and parts of it don't read at all well at the moment.  I'm honestly not cross or miffed about the comments, just amused and problematising it a little (now I that I think I know what that means).

I am mildy amused that the bits I've been asked to add are the same ones previous supervisors have asked me to remove.  I am not entirely clear why theologians/academics like long paragraphs - maybe their English teachers taught them something mine did not - and my experience of having to work through the ambiguity of complex sentences with umpteen subordinate clauses and a liberal sprinkling of nested parenthesising commas, to say nothing of abuse of colons, semi-colons and hyphens, leave me convinced that, generally speaking, and this amazing sentence notwithstanding, shorter is better.

Back in my industry days, my first ever supervisor gave me some sound advice on report writing - 'your job is put up game birds for other people to shoot down.'  In other words, it's not personal, and in fact the critique is only possible if the thing is there in the first place.  Later, I formulated my own verison of the 'customer is always right' philosophy that ran something like this - 'the customer is always right.  Misguided - maybe; confused - possibly; awkward - probably;  downright stupid - occasionally; wrong - never.'

I guess the academy is currently my 'customer' even if I'm paying it for the privilege, so I have to give it what it wants.

Just that I'm still not sure how this fits with this alleged Post Modern world I inhabit... 

It has been a long day - I have just got in from the trip to Skegness which ended with three hours in A&E with one of our folk who'd tripped and broken her wrist.  It has been a good day, and one of those when, depsite being exhaustificated, you kind of know why you do this crazy job.  I did not study theology in order to spend my time sitting in hospital waiting rooms, but having studied theology affects the way I handle it.

It was a good day because our 40 oldies enjoyed themselves - whether they saw the sea or not.  Several spent all their time in the shops sheltering from the showers and missing the gorgeous sunshine that came sporadically.

It was a good day because the church who hosted us enjoyed themselves - their first foray into mass catering, and a wonderful success.

It was a good day because there was time to sit and listen to a brass band in some quintessentially English public gardens whilst sat on a park bench under an umbrella supping insipid tea from a paper cup.

It was even a good day when I had to rush home, pick up my car, and then head off the twenty miles to our nearest A&E.

It was the band who somehow pulled it all together though.  After a diverse programme of Sousa, Sullivan, Tom Jones, Frank Sinatra and other things I vaguely know but cannot recall the composers or singers they closed 'with a hymn.'  As the strains of 'In Heavenly Love Abiding' filled the air, I wondered if this was a deliberate choice to reflect the weather ('bright skies will soon be o'er me, where the dark clouds have been') or just something that finished off a pleasant couple of hours.  I don't know, but the words of the old hymn running through my mind seemed to connect things together...

Wherever He may guide me, no want shall turn me back

My shepherd is beside me and nothing shall I lack

His wisdom ever waketh, His sight is never dim

He knows the path He taketh, and I will walk with Him.

There is something strangely reassuring in knowing that, even in the A&E car park at half past midnight, that is true.

This is me trying to be nice minister, it happens occasionally.  It is also me trying not to leap in and take over.

Our children's club reached near meltdown tonight.  I was there in 'minister' capacity so not really in a position to do much other than stay calm and try to support all involved.

I am a good, if rather old-fangled, children's worker.  (Maybe that's why I use short sentences!! ;-))  But me trying to offer insights would not go down too well - they have been doing stuff almost as long as I have but with no training.  I am now looking for something, anything, that isn't GB/BB/CLGB/Covies/Campaigners/The-Organsiation-Formerly-Known-As-Crusaders/or even SU or Guides/Scouts for that matter.  Any ideas?  

Broadband is back - and without any outside interference, just a replacement router as something had gone 'phut' inside mine.  Mutter, mutter.

Anyway, last night went with someone from church to her daughter's school perfomance of 'We Will Rock You.'  She then told me she wasn't sure it was suitable for a minister's ears, which was mildly amusing.  There was a fair deal of inuendo which was lapped up by the 16-18 year olds in the audience, went straight over the heads of the few little children there and seemed a tad puerile (which I cannot spell) to this forty-something minister.

I was struck by the story line, with its messiah figure and some not very veiled biblical parallels - 'the living rock' and the search by the killer queen (Herod meets Cruella Deville) for the star that heralded him.  I enjoyed the mis-pronunciation of 'video tape' as "vi-day-o tap" and the crackly version of the Bohemian Rhapsody video that merged into the "Big Brother" title sequence.  There was some clever stuff going on here that made me think.  Perhaps the most significant thing was when one of the characters said 'our hope lies in the past' - resonating with some of what I've been looking at and thinking about from a history perspective.

At one point the cast called upon the audience to raise their hands and 'wave' along with the music - my neighbour turned to me and said 'just like Hillsong'... at which point I switched to 'lightbulb changing' and said 'not quite' but she did have a point... what is the real difference?

It was a good perfomance - even if it made me feel old because I was younger than any of the performers when 'Bohenmian Rhpasody' was released - and would have made a really good starting point for talking about some real topics around freedom, the meaning of life, globalisation and so on, if only a few church folk were a little less wary of taint.