By now, anyone following these posts will be under no illusion that I don't always agree with the thoughts/trajectory of the author of this Lent book.  For all that, there is much a appreciate about it...

I enjoy very much the forays into social history, which today are about the origins of the toilet (object for the day).  Evidently Elizabeth I was the first to have a flush toilet, designed by a nephew who seems to have been quite a rascal.  The French King, Louis XIV was persuaded to install a 'lieu a anglaises' - hence the name 'loo' still popular today!  And of course every school child knows about Thomas Crapper, 'nough said.

I also enjoy the fact that the book provokes thought - if I don't blithely agree, then I have to think about why that is, and what I do think.

Today's focus is decidedly lavatorial (did I really read this chapter whilst eating my porridge!!) and links to the idea that it is what comes out of a person that makes them unclean.  Comparing confession to [not his words but his intent] 'pooing and peeing' is not without merit.  Stepping into a private place to clear out the waste, the rubbish, the dirty stuff, and then emerging feeling fresh and clean.  It's a powerful - if not entirely 'nice' image.

The author also notes our reluctance to see a doctor if our nether regions aren't behaving quite right, or if what we expel is not 'normal', and compares this with a reluctance to seek help for inner spiritual - and I would add, mental - dis-ease.  In traditions without priests or confession, where do we find the 'soul doctors' we may sometimes need? What 'medicine' might we need to ease pain or heal inner wounds?

So today I get permission for a nag about screening and body awareness.  And today I also get a reminder to take care of my own inner, spiritual and mental, health.

As the old song expresses it - There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul...

God of Gilead, anoint us with the balm of your Spirit's touch, that we may be healed of the sickness of the sin that clings, and the regrets that scar. Amen. 

So here we are, a third of the way through Lent!

My 'dairy free'endeavours are not going too well! Yesterday it was a choice of cheese, egg or nothing for a lunchtime sandwich, so I had one of each (quarter sized triangles)... They were nice, but today it's back to dairy-free.  For once in my life, it is proving a real challenge, not because I lack the will power but because other factors are sometimes more important. Less legalism, more intention.

Which sort of, with a bit of torsion, connects with today's object and theme...

The object is the wrist watch, and the key point is that it is something we wear, a timepiece (and nowadays perhaps a whole lot more) that is strapped to us and, as well as allowing us to keep track of the time of day, has the potential to control our behaviour (especially if it's a smart watch of some description).

The author compares the wristwatch with the phylacteries worn by devout Jews - small boxes, either tied to forehead or strapped to the upper arm, in which key words from the Torah are held.  A visible reminder of the Law, meant to be a prompt for the wearer, reminding him (and it is a male only thing) of God's Law and the expectations that demands. In Jesus' day, phylacteries were sometimes a flamboyant statement of orthodoxy and power.  I guess the same can be true of watches too.  I've never paid more that £30 for a watch, and genuinely don't understand why I might wish to spend more... to me it is solely a functional object.  Others enjoy beautiful watches, gifts and heirlooms, and why not, it's just not for me!

To link a wristwatch to spirituality is a bit tortuous, but as visible reminders of the previous gift of time, then maybe it's doable.

Loving God, help me not to focus on the outward displays of my orthodoxy and piety, but instead to let your Spirit live deep within me, enabling me to live your law of Love. Amen.

As usual, we are adapting the CTBI Lent study material for our evening reflections.  This year's theme is 'The Mystery of God' and the material is really excellent, with thoughtful questions to accompany scripture, poetry, stories, video clips, meditations and much more.

We adapt the material for use in a service lasting 45 - 60 minutes, so introduce some hymns/songs and, perforce, omit some of the options.

Last night it was my turn to lead, and I had the theme 'The Mystery of God's Glory.'  As a visual focus, and based on the use of the poem 'God's Glory' by Gerard Manley Hopkins, I had 'shining shook from foil' - or at least foil, both aluminium and shiny coloured foil-covered eggs, and some candles.  This photo, taken by B and sent to me, gives a hint of that 'shining'... light reflected and diffracted, dancing beyond the confines of the physical space, hinting at something more, something exicting, something beautiful, something beyond.

Always a privilege to lead worship.  Always a joy to share with our ecumenical freinds. It was a grand end to a good day.

I've always been puzzled by the OT story of King Hezekiah who, when told he would soon die, turned his face to the wall and pleaded with God to be allowed to live.  Not only was his wish granted, but, as a sign, time went backwards, or, to be more accurate, the sun moved back 'ten steps' (Isaiah 38: 1 - 8).  As many years have passed since I learned this story as a child, the puzzlement has given way more to annoynace - lots of people are told they are going die, lots of people kow they will die, many people pray not to die, and they still die.  Why is Hezekiah granted a fifteen year extension (though still knowing he will die, and I guess as the years draw on a knowledge that his time is running out) and other people are not?  Already this year I've been connected, to some degree, with five families where a loved one has died, to say nothing of those living with terminal diagnoses or life-limiting conditions.  Many of these are incredibly devout people of faith; most would have loved, or would love, the offer of an extra fifteen years... but the sun does not even stop, let alone move backwards in the sky.

For eight and a half years now, I have winced when I hear someone utter the phrase 'time to kill,' all too aware that there are countless people who would give anything for that hour, that half day.  Last Friday in New Zealand, fifty people who went to pray had their reasonably expected time stolen from them, it was literally killed.

All time - and here I agree with the book's author - is a gift.  If there is a gap between meetings, an unexpected delay on a journey, it is a gift, time to be savoured, enjoyed, experienced.  It is no less a gift than the unexpected free time when a long-planned meeting is cancelled as unnecessary, or than the chosen holiday or retreat where we turn off computers, phones and simply be.

Clocks are useful, they help us order our lives, but we need to be wary lest we allow them to tyranise us.

Time is precious, it cannot be bought or sold, but it can be squandered or denied.

God beyond time, the story of Hezekiah troubles me.  It seems so unfair that his wish was granted when countless others are not.  It seems bizarre that he was granted a sign when most of us have to rely on faith alone. I don't understand this story, but I do understand how precious time is, the time you permit me to enjoy, and that you gift to others.  Help me to value that gift wisely and well, and to emply my time so that, longer or shorter, it brings glory to you. Amen.

So, we've had clothes, we've had wardrobes, perhaps it's no great surprise that today we have shoes! Apparently the average person (UK?) owns 20 pairs of shoes... I am well below average, even if I count in slippers, wellies, walking boots and trainers!  It always feels to me I own too many shoes - it was only when I got down to one pair of 'work shoes' that I felt the need to go out and buy another.

The purpose of shoes, the author notes, is to walk, to travel or journey.  Yes, 'these boots are made for walking' as the song says.

He also sees shoes as symbol of hope (and though I struggle a bit with his basis for this, in the pile of shoes under glass in the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial centre) it's an idea worth thinking about.  We put on shoes - boots, trainers, sandals, etc. - for a purpose, to go somewhere or do something.  For the most part this is positive, a hopeful thing.

He notes that we are born barefoot (obviously!) and asserts that we die barefoot (not necessarily) and that these are in some sense holy moments.  He recalls Moses and the Burning Bush, where the sandals had to be removed because this was Holy Ground.

At the moment, I'm wearing comfy slippers, in a couple of hours it will be work shoes... as I change 'my feet' as we say in my family (we often say 'put some feet on' when we put on shoes) I will step out in hope to share in worhsip, reflecting and more with people I love.

As one of my favourite children's hymns says:

'One more step along the world I go - and it's from the old I travel to the new, keep me travelling along with you.'