Tomorrow it's the European elections.  Use your votes, people - and use then wisely.  You may not share my political views but there are some parties that really are worrying in their views and apathy may allow them to gain ground.

The last time these took place I was in Leicestershire, and we came scarily close to electing a BNP MEP (indeed had East Midlands not had their quota reduced by one, we would have done).  In Dibley we had a lovely person who had come over from Barbados donkeys yonks ago to drive our buses, a job beneath too many native Brits - he was terrified about what might happen if they were elected (we already had a BNP councillor at the time).

God, grant us wisdom enough that, even if we can't choose 'right' then we choose 'less bad'...

I just realised that due to a typo on my part we had the 'wrong' Psalm on Sunday - I had wondered why it didn't accord with my recollection and why it was so 'smite mine enemies' in tone.  As I was preaching on John 14 not the Pslam, it didn't matter quite so much, and I did manage to make a reference to it as 'tricky to hear but very honest as an epxression of someone's feelings'.  Not convinced, as some in some churches would say, that it wa sa divinely induced slip, more down to careless checking what I'd typed.

So this week I wil be extra, extra careful!  And I have just extended the lectionary gospel reading by an additional ten verses too :)

This morning my Pink Ribbon Walk teeshirt arrived - which means it's now less than a month away, so I really must step up the training a bit.  What made me chuckle was the adress lable, a faithful reproduction of what I had entered using the drop down menu options on the website...

So there you go, I am officially the Other Catriona.

Yesterday's lectionary gospel included these famous words of Jesus.  Usually read as a command (presumably reflecting a Greek 'imperative', I didn't check), yesterday I played around a little with the idea that what Jesus was actually saying was softer, more along the lines of "I really don't want you to experience this heart-sick, gut-wrenching, sleep-denying agony of grief, loss and hopelessness" and that he did so having experienced, and possibly still experiencing, it himself...

Firstly, John 11 and the story of Martha, Mary and Lazarus.  As Jesus stood at the grave and realised the gravity of the situation, the grief of the sisters, the loss of Lazarus, the human consequences of his own tardiness, his heart was troubled; indeed so overwhelmed was he that he wept.

Or, John 12, in the aftermath of the excitement of Palm Sunday when Jesus used the beautiful image of the ear of wheat falling to the ground to bring forth abundant fruit he went on to say ‘now my soul is troubled, and what should I say, “Father, save me from this hour.”’ Knowing that the point of no return had been reached, that the way ahead led to ridicule, rejection, torture and execution, of course Jesus’ heart would be troubled.

Or in John 13, immediately after the foot-washing as he declared that one of his own would betray him, we are told once more that he was troubled in spirit... when would it happen, how would it happen…

It seems to me that Jesus knows exactly what it is he wants to counter.  The dry mouth, the feeling in the pit of the stomach, the numbess, the disbelief, the anger, the bewilderment, the certain uncertainy, the agony, the sleeplessness... For me, that is incredibly comforting and reassuring.

And in the midst of his own agony and helplessness, to all intents and purposes a dying man, he says to those closest to him, 'it'll be all right, please don't agonise over this or me, I'm just going on ahead of you...'

The image of many dwellings, many abodes within the range of the Father's estate, is a beautiful and hopeful one.  Of course believing (in) Jesus doesn't stop us experiencing fear or grief or anxiety, but it does rob them off their power to overwhelm us.  In the that 'tracing rainbows through the rain' way we can cling, even if only by our finger nails, to the hope he offers.

Do not let grief, worry, fear, loss, anxiety... whatever it is... overwhelm you: trust me when I say that I am going ahead to make all things ready for you.  None of this has the last word, and one day, all will be well.

This song has been going around my brain constantly for over a week!  That's no bad thing, it's a geat song, albeit a challenging one to sing.  This morning at church we adapted part of the liturgy from the BUGB-BMS Assembly Communion service as an activity at the close of the sermon - it seemed to work.

There were around 70 adults present (small people were in Sunday School or creche) and it was not a Communion Sunday, but we had the communion table placed very prominently, with a white cloth on it and loads of space around it.  Earlier in the service we had added 12 bowls to represent the money raised for Christian Aid Scotland, which would be enough to feed 12 children for a month.  Hopefully my description makes sense - it was an amazing symbol when completed...

The old and the young

Even little children

There is a place prepared for you

[Table placed either end of communion table]

Women and men

free and oppressed

there is a place prepared for you

[white lacy cloths placed on tables]

Regardless of our colour or ethnicity

Impairment or ability

there is a place prepared for you

[Vases of flowers placed on tables]

Singles or couples

Straight or gay

Friend or stranger

there is a place prepared for you

[Name cards for people goups in liturgy placed around extended table, all facing out to congregation]

Rich and poor

Employed and jobless

Housed and homeless

there is a place prepared for us all

[Explanation, and invitation to add our own name and/or a people group we think is missing from the above during the singing of 'for everyone born'. Name cards passed out to congregation as tune played over, added to table at any point during the hymn]

The tables were completely covered with place cards - an amazing sight, which really symbolised the eschatological banquet in the house with many dwellings.

After the service, all the cards were gathered up and pinned to one of the noticeboards with the words "for everyone born a place at the table" central.  It was humbling and moving to read them