Today's PAYG was the commemoration of the beheading of John the Baptist - a cheery topic, not.  But as I listened to the story being read aloud, I found myself thinking of the Genesis 2 account of the forbidden fruit and seeing, if not parallels, at least touching points.

In the Adam story that lamest of excuses 'she made me do it' (or words to that effect) are not so far away from Herod's actions 'because he had vowed in front of his guests' (or words to that effect).  In other words, in each case we have foolish men making bad choices but 'it wasn't my fault'.  Really?  I think you'll find it was.

In Adam's story we have the woman beguiled - or at least misled - by the serpent; in Herod's the girl following (and adding to) the demand of her mother.  So in each case we have stereotypical "woman = evil" potential, and certainly female sin preciptating male sin.  Maybe we also have "male = numpty"...?

On Sunday the speaker at the church I visited made some remarks about people making foolish (or apparently) foolish choices.  He spoke of drivers making rash decisions to overtake... then qualified this by saying it was men making rash decisions to overtake cars being driven too slowly by women.  You can see what's happening here... the blame is ascribed to the women driving below the speed limit (maybe with good reason) and subtley removed from the men whose actions cuold, literally, result in a car crash.

I don't want to head off on some gender-related rant, I really don't, but we do need to be very careful that we don't slide into unhelpful and unhealthy dualisms and cliches that have the potenital to mislead our understanding.

The Adam and Eve story involved two humans each of whom falls prey to the temptation to disobey the one rule they have been given.  It's a story about free will and choices having consequences; a story about God being sad and angry and compassionate all at the same time.

The Herod and Herodias story is, in part anyway, about powerful people making ill-conceived grand gestures and feeling obliged to follow through - choices have consequences (so much the same story).  John, the annoying-but-intriguing prophet, is the innocent victim of Herod's foolishness, and maybe it is this aspect that ought to give us pause - who is it (individual or people group) that we find annoying-but -intriguing, infuriating-yet-attractive or whatever combination it is?  And how easily do we, like Herod, fear losing face more than acting aright?  Hmmm.

Many years ago I heard the story of a teacher who told the Herod story to a group of Asian teenage girls (presumably Hindu or Sikh, certainly not Christian).  Asked what they would have done in Herod's place, one of them said, "I would have told them that John was in the other half of my Kingdom, the half I did not promise."  I have always loved this example of lateral thinking, and hope that it might, in some measure, shape my own.

This morning's PAYG was entirely focussed on Psalm 139... a contemporary sung version and then all but the final couple of verses read aloud (we never quite bring ourselves to include those unpleasant verses, do we?).  Like lots of other people, I really like Psalm 139, delighting in the sense of God's eternal 'with-us-ness', even if I am less sure about the sense of predestination it also carries.

Today the bit that struck me were the verses about God knowing our unformed bodies and being present when we were knit together in our mothers' wombs.  Again, usually this is a very comforting thought, but today I found myself thinking more carefully about this.  How, for example, does this square with the reality that some people are born with gene mutations that will potentially or actually impact ther lives?  More personally (which was actually where my thoughts began) did God already know that I had cells that could or would mutate into cancer cells?  And if so, what, if anything does that mean?

Last night I was watching one of my favourite bits of trash television - New Tricks - in which one of the new characters is a young woman with cerebral palsy, played by upcomging actor Storme Toolis.  It is good to see talented people proving that their lives are not pre-determined by accidents of birth, and good that societally we waking up to that, albeit alongside trying to develop tests prevent and techniques to prevent the birth of 'imperfect' babies (eugenics is alive and well and wearing a very respectable mask these days).

So what does it mean to be fearfully and wonderfully made?  I don't think it refers to physical perfection or intellectual capacity, to creative potential or any other humanly defined category of worth.  Just to be born, alive and with the potential to live is miracle itself.

Does God already know the day I will draw my last earthly breath?  I have no idea.  But I think that fixation on that kind of thing is an exercise in missing the point... if God is before us, with us, beyond us, then dates and times and places - and health and strength and who knows what - find their proper perspective, because ultimately there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God.

I have no idea if this makes sense to anyone but me.  I have friends across the UK, in churches and out of them, for whom life is tough, bewildering, overwhelming, in all sorts of different ways.  Twee little explanations can't cut it - but the belief that God is present as much in the ***** as in the good stuff enables me to hope that in the end (which is beyond anything we yet know) it'll be OK.

You were there, God

As the sperm fertilised the ova

And the cells began to divide

And the embryo took shape

And grew in the hiddeness of a mother's womb

You are here, God

As day turns to day

As events and environment

Shape the people we become

And the hidden growth of hearts, minds, souls

You will be there, God

When lungs stop expanding with air,

Hearts stop circulating the blood

Life on earth ceases to be

And we are hiddden in your eternal embrace

So in the meantime

Help us trust in your promises

And live your love for ourselves

And for others

Amen.

I was popping out to the shops today and bumped into my neighbour, also going out.  'I don't like this smirr, ' he said, adding 'I presume you know that Scots word by now.'  Erm, nope.  So he explained.  'Ah,' I said, 'yes, mizzle...' 

We each agreed the other's word had merit and was a good description of the weather.  By the time we reached the gate it was definitely drizzle, and my neighbour asked if I was OK without a brolly.  "Oh yes," I replied, "I'm not made of sugar."  This, it seems, was a new saying in his experience so I had to explain it (not made of sugar, so won't 'melt' (dissolve)).

There is the myth about the number of words inuits have for snow - but I have a suspicion it comes nowhere near the number of words Brits have for rain.

Yesterday's visit to local Baptist churches took me to one that meets in a primary school.  This felt like a blast from my own past as I walked into the door and the smell of disinfectant-mixed-with-wax-crayon hit me.  A hotchpotch of three-quarter sized stacking chairs (tick) a (decent) lashed-up PA (tick) and projector (tick), even the lovely banners hung from the windows (well, would have been climbing frame, but 'tick').  The bits of art work and random school notices on the walls (tick).  The PE equipment stacked in a  corner (tick).  Ah yes, I remembered it well!

The greeter at the door was friendly and pointed me in the right direction to find the hall 'just walk towards the music'.  There was a bit of a hiatus actually getting in, as several people were bunched around the table where various leflets were laid out (not unusual it happens in most churches) but the church secretary spotted me and welcomed me in.  Cover was blown quickly as I know a couple of people in this church, but even so, I was largely anonymous.

The singing with a small, competent band, was hearty and tuneful, and mostly well-known stuff.  There was one old hymn to a new, and frankly musically quite dire, tune (why does anyone think 'To God be the Glory' needs a new tune?  Sorry Nathan Fellingham but, no). Otherwise all good stuff.  There were some intercessions which gets a big tick in my book and a reasonable chunk of Bible read (only one passage thouhg, depsite the speaker several times asserting the import of scripture (stereotypes!!).

Visiting a church when they have a guest speaker who represents an organistation they are interested in supporting is always slightly odd.  I loved the enthusiasm and commitment of the speaker, and parts of his message were really important, such as his deep understanding of God's call as 'I can do no other' but it was overlong (40 minutes when he'd said 25-30 at the start) and meant the service had to be cut short as the hire-period ended just 15 minutes after he stopped and the hall had to be cleared...  I had some issues with some of what he said (bad science and Biblical mis-quoting in his 'children's talk') and sexism in his jokes/illustrations (every bad decision was ultimately the fault of a woman... men when driving evidently made foolish overtaking decisions because they were frustrated by women who were dirivng too slowly... really?  Grr!)

Easy to pick holes, but this felt to be a happy church with good participation of many people.  The atmosphere was good, the tea decent (thank you!) and I happened to arrive on a day when they had homebaking (yes!).

Icing on the cake was being invited to lunch by the folk I knew - very kind of them, and a nice way to relax as well as learning a bit more about their church.

It was fun being back in a school, fun being back in a 'lash up' setting, because this is what I know and love, and this the tabernacling kind of church that feels good... I realise that could be misconstrued, so to reassure folk, The Gathering Place is a tabernacling church, we just camp in our own back yard, and I love it.

Autumn comes sooner in Scotland than further south.  Somehow this year I missed the subtle change in the light that heralds its arrival - perhaps because I've been rising later or perhaps  because the weather turned substantially more dull all of a sudden at the end of an especially golden summer.

Irrespective, the colour changes and leaf fall of autumn have a special place in my personal litany of thanks, proof, were it needed of another year lived.

This afternoon, a stroll in nearby Victoria Park where hints of autumn abound.