....the lyrics of the song 'Coming Home' by the The Soldiers (three real soldiers on active service) which I heard on Saturday in the Festival of Remembrance from the Albert Hall, and what they say about God and us and free will and its consequences...

"All the wounded and the brave

The ones God couldn't save

We salute your courage..."

At first I wanted to be cross with the line 'the ones God couldn't save' because part of me said 'yes God could.'  But then that left the question, if God could, why did God not.  And I had to think harder and remind myself how I understand omni-God-stuff.

My view of God is roughly this:

God can do anything consistent with God's character
God gives us free will
Free will has consequences and if God intervened every time we make a 'bad' choice we wouldn't be free; in effect God's hands are 'tied in love' as someone I know once put it.

So, on balance I'm left tending to agree with the words, not because God is/was incapable of saving (in the sense of preventing from dying a human death) those people, but because in allowing us to be 'grown up' and free God has to let our actions have consequences.  In terms of eternal salvation, which isn't what they meant, then of course God could save them, otherwise God wouldn't be God and Christ wouldn't have accomplished what he accomplished.

I think my theodicy is intact, and I think I can now not be cross with the line in the song.  And, on reflection, I'm glad it made me think.

There has been mounting excitement in this corner of Glasgow over the last few weeks as a new supermarket has been taking shape in the shell of an old one.  Workers from "darn sarf" (even by my reckoning) have laboured long and hard, cranes have appeared from a Manchester-based firm (why?!  one of my long standing puzzles is why cranes trundle across the nation rather than being sourced locally) and plenty of local people have been recruited and trained up.  Yesterday I witnessed frantic shelf stacking, sign hanging and barrier shifting.  This morning a glistening new supermarket awaits its first customers.... Waitrose has arrived!

As I am beginning to think about Advent preprations (i.e. preparing to do Advent, not what Advent is) this activity and excitement has been quite striking.  I love the Advent season with is calendars and candles and (at least among the young) mounting excitement as Christmas nears.  I love the Advent hymns with their sense of yearning and aching for what is just out of reach.

This morning I found myself reminded of these words from the advent hymn 'There's a light upon the mountians' :

There's a hush of expectation,

And a quiet in the air;

And the breath of God is moving

In the fervent breath of prayer...

I hope that people's expectations of Waitrose will be met, that the food they have longed to taste is worth the wait.  More, I hope that our Advent waiting might be eager expectation and anticipation of the promises of God, Immanuel.

Just being around at church is a good thing.  It's good because I get to chat to the cleaner and various building users.  Today two hints that links are being made...

Upstairs is an office rented by a commercial tenant.  Usually once or twice a day he goes to the coffee shop and asks if I want anything.  Today he called in as I was preparing a visual aid for Sunday, and we chatted about what it was, allowing me to explain why I was using it.  Not a deeply profound conversation but a little link, and notably it was he who asked the questions and opened the door a chink.

Then the cleaner arrived bearing a slice of delicious homemade cake as a gift for me.  We chat only a little as she is busy and also has only limited English.  A level of friendship is establishing itself and smiles and small kindnesses say a lot.

This is why I wanted to be based at church, and I am glad it is already proving worthwhile.

Here is one of the photos I used on Sunday, taken at the National Memorial Arboretum in July.

The slightly ajar door in the wall allows those on the battle field at glimpse eternity, into which their fallen comrade has already passed.  Part of our hope as believers in Christ arises from such glimpses - that death and sin are not the end, there is a brighter tomorrow.  When Jesus called his disciples to take their crosses and follow him it was simply to death, but through death into the hope of eternity.

The alignment of the sculpture is such that at 11 a.m. on 11 November the sun's rays pass through the slit; our hope as Christians allows such glimpses any time, anywhere...

Among the visitors at last Sunday's service was someone who commented on the fact that the whole service hung together - that the act of Remembrance and the concept of sacrifice threaded their way through it all, that the hymns/songs fitted in, that the Sunday School's (absolutely amazing) reflection on the first Armistice Remembrance Day connected and so on.  Surely, I thought, this is basic stuff - but of course even as I thought it, alas I know it isn't, why else is every Baptist denominational college having to teach the rudiments of how to create an act of public worship?  How often do we hear people say 'we'll start with some worship' when they really mean 'let's sing some songs we like' or even, among hymny churches, 'we'll end with that one because it has a good tune'?  Scary.

As I said in a recent sermon, it isn't style that makes of breaks worship, I like all sorts of styles and can worship in some very diverse settings, it is understanding what we are about.  Thank goodness for people like Chris Ellis whose recent publication 'Approaching God: A Guide for Worship Leaders and Worshippers' explores this in a way that is accessible, respectful of different styles and preferences, and rooted in a good understanding of what public worship is about.

I am grateful to have spent my formative years in allegedly 'boring' churches where the groundwork of good worship practices were maintained, allowing me to learn what I was doing before I started to experiment with how I do it.  I do like creativity, and movement and contemporary music as well as stillness, listening and ancient forms.  But over style come intentionality and authenticity - and that is not always so evident.