Among my more odd practices is to throw in the odd 'marmite' service, a phrase that arose from a comment made by one of my lovely Dibleyites when I said of a service 'people will love it or hate it.'  I think today was a marmitic Sunday, and I loved it!

Morning worship was my first official outing to Sunday School, leaving the adults in the very capable hands of one of my Worship Team.  The way it worked was that I led the start of the service up as far as the All Together slot and then left with the children.  I had a whale of a time (appropriate given our 'animal' theme) and I am looking forward to listening to the podcast of the adults second half, which the hints are was excellent.  One of the things we used was an 'urban' form of All Things Bright and Beautiful to which we added a verse created from ideas made by the congregation... alas the words are at church and I'm not but I do recall it had squirrels, dalmatians and dinosaurs all worshipping God.  I even discovered one of my primary teachers and my resident oncology professor are dab hands at extempore hymn-writing...  Great fun!

Here's the published urban version:

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

1  The fountains' water spouting,
The trees in city squares,
The flowers in window boxes
And shrubs by hotel doors.
Chorus

2  The ducks and swans and pigeons
The poodles and the cats;
The great beasts in their cages,
And guinea pigs in flats.
Chorus

3  The leaves that fall in autumn
In shades of red and brown,
The wind that blows them on the paths
Of parks about our town.
Chorus

4  The clouds above the rooftops,
The ever-changing light;
The sun that dries the pavements
Where rain sweeps down at night.
Chorus

Verses by Yvonne Tomes (fl. 1970) Chorus by Cecil Frances Alexander (1818-1895) © National Christian Education Council

Evening worship was 'a singing free act of worship' which used some recorded music, some pictures of Jesus and a variety of multi-sensory options for people to engage with (or not).  It was gently paced (I think) and I had lots of good, positive feedback.  No-one vocalised objections to not singing (they had been warned beforehand) so I think I got away with it... in any case, next week is a favourite hymn service so all singing (and no dancing!!).  I don't suppose it suited everybody who came along, but no-one walked out, so that's a good thing.

For me a good day, and now I'm 'good tired.'

I love marmite....

Having thought I had nothing to say this morning, I am now using my blog as an alternative to writing to the BT, something which could worsen an already inflamed situation if I wasn't very careful.  I am shocked and embarrassed by the aggression I sense in the letter(s) written by an Ayrshire Baptist as part of a long, and generally well-tempered, exchange on the complex and sensitive topic of assisted dying.  Differing views have been expressed, usually very graciously, and it has been an interesting and helpful exchange.  What troubles me is Mr Angry's judgementalism and lack of sensitivity towards those who feel differently than he does.  Especially troubling was his use of the expression 'coward and fool' to describe someone who would choose to die in such a way, and then his justification of this phrase after someone objected with some very harsh turns of phrase and some very simplistic use of the sixth Commandment. If he wants to play the proof text game - something I heartily disapprove of - then maybe he ought to check out Matthew 5:22 before he puts pen to paper.

And now I've breached my Dad's rule of say nothing if you can't say something nice... oh dear, perhaps I need to go away and reflect on Matthew 7:3-4.

This is a very complex topic, one my new Theological Reflection group has asked to explore in September, and there are some good resources out there offering Christian perspectives from people of differing conclusions.  Once I've finished reading them I may post some comments on them.

From unthinking acceptance and foot-stamping legalism, may the good Lord deliver us.

Challenge to the reader/viewer - which character in the picture is my relative (artist self portrayal) and what is the name and breed of the dog (which I recall patting when I was a child on a rare visit to Scotland... an obscure claim to fame!)

My Dad used to say, among other things, the following

1. If you can't say something nice, say nothing
2. If there's nothing worth saying, say nothing
3. (Of people who talked twaddle) he/she opens their mouth and their belly rumbles

Today I can't think of anything worth saying (I could grumble about the failures of various postal systems that have caused me hassle in the last few weeks, but that contradicts both constraints) and you really don't want to be subjected to the gurglings of my digestive system.  So, I'll shut up until there is something worth reading/sharing.

Maybe that somehow fits with the fact that this Sunday's evening worship will include a lot of quiet/silence?

For various reasons, most of them good, it has felt of late that I've have at best misplaced, and possibly lost, the plot.  This was epitomised by the realisation that I had planned (?!) to be in two venues, 360 miles apart, simultaneously...  In the noise of the gaudy quiz show 'uh-err'; in the noise of a former radio programme 'quack quack oops.'

As I have said to various of my lovely Gatherers, I you find a plot lying around somewhere let me know, it just might be mine...!