I posted about a service based on the Welsh word cariad in relation to God's love.  Since then I have been asked if I could post the details of the words and their translations.  So, courtesy of our Welsh speaking worship leader, here they are:

C – Cyfeillgarwch / friendship

A – Amynedd / patience (but not in the suffering sense of the word, more the opposite of impatience)

R – Rhuddin / heart (of a tree or timber but not heart of the body – that is calon)

I – Iesu / Jesus

A – Addfwynder / gentleness, meekness

D – Daioni / goodness

Hope it is of interest/use to others

Today I have been working on the material for this evening's launch of our new Bible Study & Discussion group, which is based on the Bible Society Lyfe guide called 'Big-hearted Lyfe'.  I am excited to begin this new group, which opens the way to all sorts of ways of exploring scripture.  One of the follow-up options was to look at this little you-tube video, which is a clever rework of Psalm 23.

Between now and Thursday, I have to prepare another version of the same study for a very different afternoon group, many of whom do not use "t'internet" so for whom this analogy (love the near pun there - analogue/digital... oh, never mind!!) wouldn't work.  I really love the Thursday group, they are so faithful and great fun to be with... so I hope I can find a way in that works for them too.

Oh yes, cue spooky music - my sermon title for next Sunday is:

'Responsible Words in an era of Instant Messaging'

Today's PAYG was centred on the account in Luke's gospel where Jesus heals the withered arm of a man present in a synagogue on a sabbath (Luke 6:6 - 11).  The person guiding the reflection noted that at the point the story begins Jesus had already antagonised the powerful religious in some way, so much so that they were out to get him.  Was it something he had said or done?  So they were eagerly looking for any teeny weeny transgression in order to pounce.  Jesus could simply have walked away, past the man with the withered hand, and said nothing.  He could have settled for a quiet life rather than risk antagonising, or being antagonised by, others.

This really spoke to me - with my loathing of confrontation and fear of offending blended with a sometimes too short fuse when I am annoyed or irritated by something or someone.  Sometimes, of course, discretion is the better part of valour.  Sometimes standing up and being counted is important.  Jesus was no people pleaser, confrontation clearly didn't faze him, and he could be quite sharply spoken on occasion... above all he was true to himself.

This morning I woke still turning over stuff from yesterday in my mind, still all too aware of my clay feet, but in this reading and reflection, it seemed that God reached out to me, reassured me, and said 'it's all alright.'

Way back when, as I began the path to ordained ministry, I confided in a friend that my biggest fear was that something I said or didn't say, did or didn't do, would drive someone away from Jesus, from God.  Perhaps fear is an unhelpful word, perhaps 'concern' would be better.  And maybe I somehow accord too much import to my words and actions in influencing other people negatively.  I think I have been reminded that WWJD is be true to himself, to confront, to subvert, to ignore, to challenge... and that what I have to do is be true to who God has made me to be, which may sometimes include doing or being the things I find uncomfortable...

It's a well known saying (derived from some imagery in the Book of Daniel, if memory serves correctly).  Every now and then I remind myself of just what crumbly, clay feet I have... and of how blessed I am to serve people who are far more gracious and generous than I deserve.

Today, after church, was our AGM, one of those strange, legal entities that has to be undertaken, followed by a normal church meeting with a relatively short agenda.  One way and another today turned into a very long day, so now I'm tired, and busy 'over-thinking' things I wish I hadn't said, or had said, or had expressed better; done, or not done, or done differently.

Do all minister type people think other ministers are better at the job than than the are?  Are we all keenly aware of our frailty, finitude, and general fallen-short-ness?  Do we all turn things over and over, aware of our limitations?

It's late to be blogging (at least for me), and I'm tired after a long day.  I am also happy to be where I firmly believe God wants me to work and serve, among amazing people in a church that at its best is a foretaste of heaven.

One of the images used in atonement theology is that of the courtroom, in which we are the defendant and Christ is the advocate/lawyer who pleads our cause before the judge/sheriff who is God.  Now whatever you might or might not think of that image, I think it is worth working with as 'one among many'.

This week I have been working with James 2 in preapration for Sunday's service, and discovered that some commentators see the scenario of the rich and poor 'men' entering the assembly (synagogue/congregation) not as about new people coming to worship but as some kind of primitive Church Meeting gathered to settle some issue.  This I will be mentioning in my sermon.

One of the things that struck me this morning, and which is briefly alluded to towards the end of the sermon, is that I could bring this into 'conversation' with the courtroom atonement theology (and someone clever probably already did).  How is it that we approach God?  Not as a rich, powerful, influential person, able to buy favour, but as the impoverished, inarticulate, scruffy person who has no hope of a fair hearing.  So the mystery and wonder is that the outrageous generosity of the big-hearted God is not simply to treat us fairly, to judge us without prejudice, but instead in mercy and love to shout from the roof tops 'not guilty' (if, indeed guilty we were) or 'free to go' (if we were at risk of detention) or 'paid in full' (if we were in debt).

If this is so, if we recognise the ludicrous goodness of God to us, how can we fail, in gratitude, to show the same to others who, actually, have not offended against us but are just different from us in some way.

I love the letter of James, and chapter two is the bit I love best - that's old news.  I love that whenever I read it proeprly, I am shown some knew insight that adds to my love of it.