(photo found on line)

Between 11 p.m. on Saturday evening and 6 a.m. this morning I spent something of the order of  22 hours on National Express coaches.  A fair chunk of that was sleeping (or trying to), the rest looking out of the window and seeing familiar and unfamiliar places.  Passing through Stoke on Trent at around 6 a.m. on Sunday morning, I happened to spot this pub... I must have passed that way dozens of times driving in my car, but had never seen this, set back from and below the ring road (or whatever it is called).

The Holy Inadequate - a great name for a pub, with some excellent west midlands humour.  Also, I think, a good description of a minister!  No, this is not me self-flagellating yet again, just the reality that all ministers are in some senses inadequate and in some senses holy.

I'm very tired after my travels - sleeping in 20 minute chunks, puntuated by loud speaker announcements that "ladies and gentlemen we are now approaching such-and-such coach station" was not very restful.  Spent much of the morning making zeds... and think an early night is in order too!

This afternoon I listened to ten or so people share their poems, and was invited to judge between them.  Thankfully with two other judges.

I think it confirmed what I've always known... I'm not cut out for judging things.  I was very happy with the descisions that were made, and overall our opinions weren't so very different... but it left me very stressed.  I think because I am very aware of my lack of understanding of poetry as a genre.  I think because it is, ultimately, subjective.  I think because every one, however technically competent or otherwise offers something of themself.  And maybe because I'm just a wuss.

I really enjoyed the poems: I laughed, I ached, I was taken to places, I was asked questions, I was granted insights to people's souls.

I'm really glad I was there, and grateful to have been allowed to share in the judging... but now I need to lie down in a darkened room!!

This afternoon I have been invited to act as a judge for Poetry Slam under the banner of "Faith and Unbelief".  My credentials are, I assume, being a minister type person and quite liking poetry.  I do feel a bit of a fraud though... last year someone announced they had written a sonnet, and specifically such-and-such a type of sonnet... all I knew was that sonnets had 14 lines.  Likewise I know that a Haiku is three lines of 5, 7, 5 syllables, but not a lot else. Grade A for 'O' level English literature back in 1979 is a pretty poor qualification for this, I fear!

But what strikes me is that, whilst I remember almost nothing of their content, I still recall the themes and 'feel' of the pair of poems we awarded the prize to last year.  A reflection on standing in a cliff top chapel and another on the birth of a first child.

I think that has to be my basis for judging... does the poem move in such a way that I will remember why I liked it in a year's time?

I will enjoy being there; I will still feel a fraud; I look forward to hearing people's work.

Well it made me smile, anyway.

I'm not at church this Sunday so it will be very careful exegesis that underpins the sermon (especially as it's someone whose research area is something like philosophical hermeneutics, whatever that is!!).

Twelve years ago I left college to start ministry.  I still remember my tutor asking, at the start of that final year, what sort of church context I was sensing might be my call.  I was clear on two things: not sub-urban and no building projects.  His response was, 'be careful what you wish for'

So I got rural and an (unexpected) building project.  Then I got urban and an (ongoing) building project.

Twelve years of building projects which have loomed large in the background of twelve years of, mostly, positive and productive ministry.

And of course it isn't just me affected by this - it has, and continues to be, a factor in the lives of each congregation.  Endless hours of volunteer energy devoted to plans and architects and solicitors and developers and funders and estate agents and OSCR/Charities Commission/BU Corporation and insurers.  Lots of meetings, lots of praying, lots of heart-searching, lots of letters, emails and phone calls...

So I'm just pausing for a moment to say 'thank you' to those who have served, and still serve, on the relevant committees of each of these churches.  It's not a glamorous task, and it's one that brings with it a huge emotional investment, trying to carry the hopes and dreams, disappointments and frustrations of a whole community.  And also to those who have served, and do serve as Charity Trustees, carrying the huge legal responsibility of enacting the will of the Church Meeting.

Assuming I am able to work until my 'normal' pensionable age, I have around 15 years of ministry left... so, if I include the four years I was at college, roughly as long to go as I've already done.  I hope all of that won't be taken up with building projects, but given my track record and God's weird sense of humour, it quite possibly will!