Some of the parables in the gospel of Luke are pretty scary.  This morning, PAYG used this one from Luke 12:

...the Lord said, ‘Who then is the faithful and prudent manager whom his master will put in charge of his slaves, to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions. But if that slave says to himself, “My master is delayed in coming”, and if he begins to beat the other slaves, men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk, the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will cut him in pieces, and put him with the unfaithful. That slave who knew what his master wanted, but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted, will receive a severe beating. But one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.

It is scary stuff, rarely reflected upon let alone preached upon, partly, I suspect because it is primarily to ministers and preachers that it speaks.

Way back, I can recall chatting with someone about my call to ordained ministry, and observing that my biggest fear was that I would say or do, or not say or do, something that damaged someone else's faith or hanpered its development.  That concern is always at the back of my mind, and is probably why I pull up short of logical conlcusions sometimes - a kind of pastoral (misguided maybe?) concern.

This parable scares me.  It scared me when I heard it read today.  Not in a bad way, in a good way... it shakes me out of my complacency and comfort; it challenges me to consider if I am stuffing my metaphorical face and leaving others metaphorically hungry.  It reminds me of the much that has been entrusted to me, and the consequent expectations.

It disturbs me but it does not undermine me.  A few years back when 'Fresh Expressions' was all the rage, I bought a DVD of stories (I lent it to someone in Juxta Dibley and never saw it again!).  One story was from a Methodist minister who said that when he had to give account of his life to God he would simply say 'I tried my best'.  That's all we can do.  That's all God requires of us.  Not perfect understanding, not fully honed theolgoy, not unshakeable faith... just that we do our best with what we have been given.

Sometimes, God, I fear I am that servant

The one who has forgotten who and what they are

Who is careless or selfish

Not caring as she should for those entrusted to her care

Not sharing the new insights you give

Not doing as I should

Sometimes, God, I fear I have failed

Or am failing

Or will fail

To be

To do

What you require

And yet I keep trying

For that is all I can do...

Forgive me my faults

Strengthen my resolve

And let me keep on trying...

Perhaps I should preface this by saying that I count among my friend lots of wonderful Anglicans, and other paedobaptists, whose faith and practice is inspiring, and that I really don't want to 'dis' them or cause offence.

This afternoon, in a private ceremony, Prince George is to be baptised.  Not christened, there is no such rite and it really annoys me that the Church of England colludes with the media in using the wrong term.  I hope (in a theologically proper, Christian kind of a way) that in due course he will come to faith, and that that faith will inspire his living.  And I do hope (in a more general human kind of a way) that he lives a healthy and fulfilled life. 

I have all sorts of issues with private ceremonies (baptism is by definition public*) and I'll avoid commenting on the relationship of church and state.  What really got my goat, though, was the sense that this would inspire other people to have their babies baptised (interesting subtle change of language methinks) which makes it sound like some sort of fashion statement, a thing to 'do' to keep up with the Joneses or the Patels or whoever.  I don't think that is what the Arch Bish will have intended, I am sure he means that he hopes more families will embark on a journey of faith that can begin with the presentation of their child(ren) for baptism.

So, will young Prince George be in creche next Sunday or Sunday School in a few years time?  Will the demanding promises made by the godparents chosen by his parents, or indeed those of anyone who is inspired to do 'likewise', be fulfilled?  And will the churches to which these children are brought play their part in supporting the parents as they endeavour to bring up their children?

Without getting into a paedo vs credo baptism debate, I do think our practice of infant blessing and dedication of parents has a lot to commend it.  It allows parents to have a ceremony in which they can celebrate new life, by birth or adoption.  It allows faith-appropriate promises to be made.  It requires the church to make promises about its on-going commitment to children and young people.  It centres on hope, properly understood, that the child (and parent(s) if appropriate) will one day come to name that faith for themselves.  Such features are not unique, and I am sure some of my infant baptising friends will assure me they do much the same.  It is also fair to say that our rite does not necessarily draw any more people in to church - it just feels less dishonest to me.

Will events today inspire a new generation to seek faith?  That would be brilliant!  Or will it result in a blip in the stats for middle class parishes in middle England... only time will tell.

Whatever my views, I pray that God will bless the royals today, in the same way that God blesses all people in such moments.

* Baptisms of still births and neonates by hopsital chaplains would obviously be a valid exception to my general rule on the public nature of the rite!

... can pay off.  After nearly two hours waiting to log on to the website I finally managed to purchase some tickets for Glasgow 2014.

Three of the early round of the netball (and hoping that the final gets moved to the larger venue AND that tickets are offered first to those who missed out so that I might still get there) and one round of lawn bowls as it takes place more or less on my doorstep at church.

I am not convinced this method of ticket sales is helpful - I was only able to sit and wait because today is my 'day off'.  I don't mind the wating per se, I don't even mind tickets being sold out, I just think that there is something not quite working when we end up with this situation (and there will probably still be events for which they'll end up giving away tickets because no-one wants them).

For now I am happy - and will look forward to the amazing atmosphere that accompanies the games.

Well, fairly.  It was taken in September in a food court in Glasgow where I was supping a skinny (hopefully fairtrade) latte.  How long it will last until I change it again, who knows, but it is definitely the most apposite I've used thus far!

Roughly three and a half years ago I was invited to be a keynote speaker at a conference for newly accredited ministers, and told I could speak on anything I liked, so long as it was relevant to pastoral ministry.  At the time I was mulling over various thoughts about 'authenticity' and how that is played out within the role and responsibilties of pastoral ministry.

Circumstances meant that I had to withdraw from that confernece even before I had begun to prepare for it, and the invitation has never been repeated (which is perfectly fine, in case any of the organisers are reading this!)

Over the summer I made some progress on some empirical research exploring how ministers have managed the interface of 'public faith and private pain' which led in turn to the title of the paper I have to write for the international conference I will be attending next February - 'Public Faith and Private Pain: A Quest for Authenticity'.

Last evening I was involved in an innovative project where people bring photographs they consider to be significant in some way and use them as a jumping off point for a conversation.  More to follow on this in a few weeks time, but perhaps inevitably with the photos I chose, the question of authenticity emerged.

And so, three and half years on, or thereabouts, I have come full circle, kind of, and am considering the same topic with very different insights and resources.

Somewhere along the line, I derived a mental image for faith development and/or theological reflection that is a spiral staircase where the vertical axis is chronological time (tautologous but you get my drift).  As life passes you ascend (or descend I suppose, but in my head I go upwards; you can only go one way) the staircase, which may or may not be uniform in pitch or diameter (bet you wish you'd done A level tech drawing now!!) passing and repassing the same point but at a different level.  There is no sense that later is 'better'  or 'more mature' but it does have the potential to be 'richer' with more to mull over and new insights to take forwards.

Maybe it's a daft image, but it works for me, and helps me make sense of the cyclic and linear nature of life in all its fullness.