This Sunday we will be starting a seven week series of all age services looking at aspects of discipleship viewed through the lens of Mark's gospel.  It is technically a lectionary-based series but for good reason we are starting it about 3 weeks late!  Anyways, this week's gospel reading is Mark 3: 25 - 35, which is not exactly easy reading.

The thing that has really got me thinking is the call to be Jesus' 'brothers, sisters and mother.'  The sibling bit I get.  It's not an easy call, but it's one that makes sense.  But the mothering bit - now that's more tricky!  How can I - or anyone - be 'mother of Jesus' or 'mother to Jesus'?  What does it mean?  How do we bring Christ to birth in others maybe?  Or how do we nurture the child Christ glimpsed in every human child?  Or how do we fulfil the prophetic message of Magnificat?  What is/was the unique role of mother wihtin the (human) household of Jesus or the (spiritual) household of God? 

Hmmm.  I really don't know.  But it's a challenge for sure.

Or at least it is for me.  I am reading a little book called 'The Art of Pastoring' by David Hansen, and on the whole, so far, so good.  I like the style and find the content thoughtful and thought provoking.  But then came an analogy I found unhelpful... a comparison of sin to cancer.

In the few days since I read that, and winced, and railed against it, I have tried quite hard to work with it - but ultimately it does not work, not least since the author asserts that 'we cherish our sin'.  I know of no-one who cherished his or her cancer.  I chose to love my tumour, to embrace the physical and emotional changes my treatment brought, but cherish cancer, delight it in, want to indulge it...?  I think not.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot make this analogy OK.  I get what he's saying, understand what he's trying to do.  Cancer is pernicious and parasitic, I get that, I even get that cancer is about our own cells going awry in a way we are powerless to stop... but that doesn't make it a helpful analogy.  I mean, cancer cells achieve some kind of immortality, so we could take that in a whole other direction - but no-one would because it's plain nuts.

The theologian John Hull, once his sight began to fail, devoted a lot of energy to revisiting Biblical use of blindness/sight as metaphors for unbelief/belief and reflected on how this impacts people with visual impairment.  Hansen's cancer analogy functions in a similar way for me.  I don't think I'm being overly sensitive, I can distinguish between analogy and attribution (is that the right word?), but I am really affronted by it. 

Why is this? I think it is at least partially because everyone I know who has had a cancer diagnosis experiences at least some sense of guilt - that they did or did not do this or that, that they ate or did not eat such and such, that they made this or that choice.  To use cancer as an analogy for sin seems to me to compound that guilt and potentially further damage people who are already vulnerable.

I'm not sure what might be a more helpful analogy - but I suspect not one that relates to any aspect of physical/mental health or wellbeing.  What do others think?

Last Sunday, when I was away in Devon, we had a young woman student to preach at church, who took as her theme the story of the woman caught in adultery taken from John 8.  It is a story I have preached on many times, and have heard preached on many times.  It is a story that has been approached from countless angles, and easy to think that there is little new to explore.  I have just listened online to the service.

In a wide ranging sermon, the thing that struck me - which would have made a brilliant sermon in itself, and would have stood more exploration - was her exploration of the postures, or, in her words, 'body language', of Jesus.  The kneeling and writing, the looking deep into the eyes, the looking around and so on.  To think about how our physicality expresses our hearts, how our gestures and postures speak of love or truth or grace (or, less positively, of more ugly attributes) is certainly worth pondering in some depth. I would have valued more time spent developing those ideas.  The sermon reminded me of some of my own early endeavours, when my college tutors would gently remind me that I had too many ideas.  It takes experience and confidence to realise that we do not need to include every idea we have or cover all bases in every sermon.

I had a teeny chuckly to myself that some of the hymns were the same as those that had been chosen by the person I was Baptising so far away, one of those Holy Spirit connections that never cease to amaze and amuse (in a good way).

It must be very nerve wracking for someone so young coming into a church known for its intellect, and I did detect some hints of nerves in the recording, but all credit to C, she delivered a carefully crafted sermon with some fresh insights, and gave those present something worthwile to mull over in the days ahead.  I hope that as she grows in confidence she will be given the opportunities to exercise her ministry more widely.

Over the weekend I was introduced to this song/hymn by Stuart Townend and Simon Brading.  I don't know the story of how it came to be written, but it reminds me of St Patrick's breastplate, and serves a similar purpose for a 21st century musicality...

Christ be in my waking,
As the sun is rising,
In my day of working,
With me every hour.
Christ be in my resting,
As the day is ending,
Calming and refreshing,
Watching through the night.
 
Christ be in my thinking,
And my understanding,
Guarding me from evil,
Walking in the light.
Christ be in my speaking,
Every word a blessing,
Pure and not deceiving,
Grace to all who hear.
 
Jesus, this is my devotion,
All my life to know You,
Every day to walk with You.  
Saviour, You’re my deepest longing,
You’re the One I live for,
Teach me, Lord, to walk with You.
 
Christ be in my gladness
For the joy of living,  
Thankful for the goodness
Of the Father's hand.
Christ be in my sorrow,
In my day of darkness,
Knowing that I follow
In the steps He trod.

Christ when hope has faded,
Nothing left to cling to,
Every pleasure jaded,
Every well is dry.
Christ the loving Shepherd
Draws me with His kindness,
Leads me from the desert
To the streams of life.

Stuart Townend & Simon Brading (c) Thankyou Music

You can listen to it here Not a great rendition in my view, but gives you a clue of this gentle, flowing song, which I rather like; ditch the drums and fancy effects and just sing it with a piano (and not one plonking out chords as here) ... it has the makings of a lasting hymn if sung well.

OK, so my time away ended up being a little longer than planned, due to times of tides and trains failing to align, but finally a vestige of normality is returning!

Whilst at Hothorpe Hall where I was a small group leader/facilitator I photographed some of the signs around the place, including this one, which made me chuckle...

Lee Abbey in Devon is a mighty long way from Glasgow, but one of my people requested to be Baptised in the sea there.  It was a great privilege - if logistically complicated - and a very special moment for all who participated.  So here I am, with my two 'glamorous assistants' in the process of doing the 'dunking'

God bless you D as you continue in the way of Jesus.