On Sunday last tragedy struck in the London marathon as a young woman collapsed and died just a few hundred yards from the end of the race.  On Sunday in Liverpool another young woman died having had to abandon her dreamed of final holiday at the airport because her illness had almost run its course.  Each is dreadfully sad.  One is in the public eye and the other, rightly, almost completely private.  Behind each story are real people who are grieving.

The outpouring of donations on Claire Squires Justgiving page is amazing - heading towards £600k when I looked this morning.  As I watch and read, I find myself wondering what it is that has triggered this response (one which I have to confess I find infinitely preferable to the laying of flowers).  Is it because Claire's tragic death has reminded people of their own mortality, the frailty and fleeting nature of life?  Is it because she died supporting a charity we equate with helping people at their point of greatest emotional need, choosing to live rather than to die?  Is it because she represents something that many aspire to to and cannot be?  I don't know.  I do know that out of this tragedy something amazing will arise.  That won't ease the loss or pain of Claire's family, but maybe it helps make a little bit of sense.

T was someone I knew only online and only vaguely.  She had a husband and a little boy who was a mere 8 months old when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2010.  Sadly, younger women (under 50) tend to have worse outcomes, and although on paper her initial diagnosis was better than mine, her cancer raged through her young body.  Knowing she did not have long left, and with the consent of her doctors, she planned one last holiday.   Having had to turn back from the airport, her final post was that she was glad she hadn't been taken ill mid-flight, causing the plane to divert and ruining other people's holidays.  A kind, funny, generous and devout woman, her last online request was that 'prayers are welcome'.  In a small corner of cyberspace, tributes have been made to T.  Out of her tragedy, hope's star shines.

And all over the world are countless other examples of the bittersweet juxtaposition of beauty and brokenness.  Families grieving personal tragedy, yet turning their pain to the good.  That doesn't make it all alright, there are still big questions people need to ask - and to which they may never find answers this side of eternity.  But perhaps it reminds us that ultimately, the attributes of love, hope, kindness, etc (Gal 5 for Bible readers) are stronger than evil or death.

RIP Claire.  RIP T.  May God grant you peace, and bring comfort to your families.

This week we will be pondering the ending of Luke's gospel.  And the overlap with the start of Acts.  And the ending of Acts.  It is the last of our 'endings' series.

It has been good for me to spend time steeping myself in these endings, rediscovering what they say, and what they don't say.  It is only since I've done this exercise that I've come to appreciate than only Luke has an account of the Ascension (unless you include longer Mark)... I kind of knew this but had never really thought about it, having always mean more aware of Luke's seeming self-contradiction between his two accounts of it.

Anyway, your mission today, should you choose to accept it, is to ask yourself why, out of four gospel writers, only one bothers to tell us an ascension story, and if it is significant that this is one of only two with a birth story.  For extra points, how do Luke's birth story and ascension story together serve the purposes of his gospel?

A while back, someone suggested to me that they thought there might well have been a volume 3, planned but not executed or written but lost, since Acts ends leaving the way open for more to be told.  Let's just say it is this idea that prompted me to plan this little series, and I am holding that thought in mind as I prepare for the sermon.

... Happy St George's Day.

And also to my English readers.

The marking of St George's day in England seems to be a fairly recent phenomenon, and the adoption of the St George's cross by extremists and hooligans has left a lot of English people (or at least those I know) slightly uneasy about the use of our national flag - something I don't observe among Scots, Welsh or (most) Irish people.

To be honest I have zero interest in marking this day but as I mentioned both St David's and St Patrick's last month I thought I probably ought to continue the practice.  Note to self - don't (dare!) forget St Andrew on 30 November.

I guess I also ought to be wishing Shakespeare a happy birthday...

I think I am guilty of some sort of inverted snobbery just now.  Let me explain.  Last week I watched the junior semi-final of the Songs of Praise choir competition, and today will almost certainly watch the seniors.  Each choir offers an amazing, wonderfully polished performance... and so far as I can ascertain every last one is composed of privileged children.  The majority are private/independent schools - fee-paying schools - with access to resources your average state school simply does not have.  Even the few state school come from 'nice' places where support for music and singing is likely to be good.  They sing beautifully, they have a lovely outing and get to be on television.  I am pleased for them.

But...

But then I think of the school choir that joins with us for worship a couple of times a year.  A state primary in east Glasgow.  Not from a 'sink' estates, just ordinary decent kids from ordinary decent homes.  They wouldn't get a look in with such a competition if they even aspired to enter.

Or I think of the choir of Dibley primary, who came and sang in our community carol service once, their families swelling the congregation significantly.  Far from perfect (as a few folk were quick to point out, sadly) but enthusiastic and gaining so much from participation.  They, too, were they brave enough to enter, would be knocked back early on.

And it annoys me.  I get that only the best can make the final.  But it isn't a level playing field.  I don't know how it could be levelled, but I feel it needs to be.

So, tonight I will be rooting for the Welsh school, Ysgol y Strade, as it is the only state school in the senior section.

Apologies to those lovely readers who were privately educated, I don't hold it against you, just think it'd be so good if maybe the opportunities could be distributed more widely.

Someone alerted me to this in the press today... twenty people (19 women, 1 man) who have had breast cancer raising money through a fashion show.  Unfortunately it's the day I'll be with a hundred other people climbing Ben Nevis for the same cause.  Slightly bad planning, but then I'm happier in my boots and a fleece than I would ever be in heels and high couture; I guess the converse is true.  Just would have been nice to go and watch it.