Today's readings:

Psalm 86: 2 - 4

Job 23: 8-14

Matthew 10: 9 - 20

As I read these passages, there was one verse in one of them them leaped out at me...

"But if I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him.  When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.  But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.  My feet have closely followed his steps; I have kept to his way without turning aside.  I have not departed from the commands of his lips; I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread.  "But he stands alone, and who can oppose him? He does whatever he pleases.  He carries out his decree against me, and many such plans he still has in store.   (Job 23: 8 - 14)

For the last year, maybe a little longer, a scrap of paper, torn from an envelope has stayed on, or near, the monitor of the church computer.  On this scrap of paper, the shaky writing of an elderly hand declares "When he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold."  These words were penned by someone from church, a promise for me to hold onto during my cancer treatment.  From time to time I would become conscious of this little message, blu-taked to the side of the monitor, or, as it is now, tucked under the foot of the flat screen that replaced the chunky CRT affair.  This message of hope - that after the 'trial' would be a bright tomorrow - was a good one to hold onto.

Now, it has to be said that my theology does not allow that my cancer was (is?) a 'test' or 'trial' sent by God to 'prove' or 'refine' my faith.  But it does allow that such experiences have the potential to shape me in ways that are healthy and life-giving.  The story of Job is a strange one - exploring questions about suffering and why bad things happen to 'good' people or good things to 'bad' people - but there are some very beautiful passages within it, and this little verse has travelled with me, and given me hope, along a path that at times seemed very dark and precipitous.

Sometimes, God of Hope, life is very trying; sometimes pressures and stresses weigh us down; sometimes chronic conditions or acute illnesses debilitate us; sometimes life is just one long struggle.

Yet we dare to hope that the promise is true, that through these things, even in these things, you are with us, and that, sometimes, somehow, we will emerge as gold.

Where we see no end to the trials, reassure us of your presence, of the light that guides through the foggy gloom

Where we fear what the future brings, calm our anxious thoughts with your gentle touch

Where we need new hope, meet us where we are

Amen

OK, so this morning it seems I'm starting my third cold of the autumn... this takes me back to my childhood when I would begin colds in September and continue through to the end of winter with one cold after another.  I like to think I'm restocking my immunity bank with 'colds I've had' but maybe that's not how it works?

It's slightly annoying because this week I actually dared to think I was nearly 'back to normal' in terms of energy and stamina and maybe even brain power (I did say 'nearly'...)  I have had a great time haring about hither, thither and you, have worked the kind of week I used to take for granted... so I hope that hasn't laid me open to the virus that's now dancing for joy in my nasal passages!

Quite a lot to do today, but mostly sedentary, so I can molly coddle the cold at the same time.  Off to work now!

PAYG today left me with two things to ponder a while...

Today is the day of Saints Edmund Campion and Robert Southwell and Companions - a day recognising no less than 28 catholic martyrs (10 saints and 18 blessed evidently) executed in the 16th century.  It makes for gory reading, and is a reminder of the less lovely aspects of church history.  I'm not exactly sure how that squared with the rest of what they offered, but because I didn't know who these saints were, I was sufficiently curious to dig a little deeper.

Again today they were using a song by Karen Money, called Surrender.  I havent' managed to find a video or audio of this one, but I did track down the lyrics:

I surrender all to You
The past, the years to come, right now
With every breath I bring to You
My hopes and fears and long discarded dreams
Take them from my trembling hands
Before I lose my nerve and change my mind
Tear to shreds my safety net
And rip up every back up plan I make

If I could only see Your face
I would never hesitate, I'd give my all to You
Through I do not see You now
I will turn my back on every doubt
And I am going to trust that You
In Your own time will work it out

If I could only see Your face
Empty hands bring peace of mind
Your burden is far lighter than my own
And every step I take to You
Leads me ever closer stïll to home.

Todays readings:

Psalm 43:3

Genesis 5:22-24

Hebrews 11:15 - 16

Not, it has to be said, the most straight forward to read for a glimpse of hope, it has to be said.  Methuselah's longevity (the Genesis) and the opportunity to turn back (Hebrews) are a tad odd to say the least, when read, as they are, out of context.  So it has to be the psalm:

Send forth your light and your truth, let them guide me; let them bring me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell.

In this plea, for guidance and direction (is that tautologous? probably), must be an underlying hope - that if God does indeed send forth light and truth, then direction can be found.  At this dark time of year, we are always glad to lights to show us the way, to keep our feet (or our cars) on track. 

Whenever I read texts like this one, I am reminded of the old, old, hymn 'lead kindly light'...

Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
lead thou me on;
the night is dark, and I am far from home;
lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
the distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
shouldst lead me on;
I loved to choose, and see my path; but now
lead thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
pride ruled my will: remember not past years.

So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still
will lead me on,
o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
the night is gone,
and with the morn those angel faces smile,
which I have loved long since, and lost a while.

John Henry Newman (1801-1890)

I cannot honestly say I completely understand the hymn, but the last part of the first verse - "I do not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me" -  always speaks to me.  We don't need a super highway with glaring lights, so that the ultimate destination is in clear view, all we need, all we desire, is light enough for the next step.  The hope, then, is that the light to show us that next step will be there.

God of truth and light, in the foggy reality of daily life, when the way forward is so often obscured from view, grant us light enough to take the next step, and then the next, until, in your time, we reach our destination.  Amen.

Today is World AIDS Day.

I had planned on giving this blog a one day red colour scheme, but the platform doesn't offer one (at least not to my free blog!)

Since the 1980s when widespread awareness began, countless people have fallen pray to this disease, transmitted as it is by body fluids, passed from parent to child, lover to lover.

A lot has been done to develop better treatments, so that in the west it can almost be seen as a chronic (albeit life limiting) condition in a similar way to some metastatic cancers.  No, I'm not saying the two are equivalent, in case that sentence offends anyone, they clearly aren't, just noting that, in the west we take for granted amazing medical facilities that most of the world could only dream of.

To find out more, go here.