Here in Dibley it has snowed fairly steadily all day. Not as heavily as in Kent or London, but enough to build up about 6 inches on top of my wheelie bin and at least 4 on the garden.  My road resembles a toboggan run and there've been a few interesting bits of driving to observe though the main roads, until about 3 pm, were clear; thereafter they slowly covered over.

I needed to do a couple of visits today - one to the local Community Hospital where one of my long-term hospitalised folk is now undergoing intensive physio and one to my much-loved 90-something year-old crusty Gideon who was refusing to call out the doctor in the snow.

So, hospital visiting in Dibley = dog-collar, snow = hiking boots... hence a new ensemble of clerical shirt, woolly jumper, jeans and hiking boots (with waterproof and fleecy hat/gloves of course).  It's the look - the Dibley look!

I called into the corner shop on the way back to treat myself to some lemon-curd tarts and instant hot chocolate.  I got chatting (as usual) to the woman behind the counter who spotted the collar and asked about it - I told her I try to look normal (!) most of the time.  She then shared that she was baptised by the Archbishop of York and she said 'bless you' as I left the shop.  I'm not a great fan of dog-collars, though I do think they have there place, and every now and then I find these magical moments arise.

Tomorrow it may or may not snow here - we seem to be on the edge of every weather map/system going - but hopefully I won't need to reproduce 'the look' again in a hurry.

This morning's service was chugging along nicely and innocuously enough until we go to the Bible readings.  The first reading, scheduled to be Matt 7:24 - 27 (wise and foolish builders) began and clearly wasn't what was intended.  I let the reader read, after all it was probably me who had mistyped the reference - a quick flick through my Bible revealed she was reading Math 6:24 - 27 (serving two masters, God and mammon).  So, after the two Matthew readings, I read the correct parable and then did the reflection.  The same person was reading another passage later in the service and she said she'd switched Bibles because, seemingly, in her Bible the chapter numbers in Matthew differed and she had been reading allegedly the correct passage, and I had given the right reference.  I think she was using a New English Bible, but the only NEB New Testament I have is correctly labelled - so maybe someone can put me right?  Anyway, with the theme of folly and wisdom, and the current economic muddles I did find myself wondering if  divine mischief was at work here?

One person took me to task over the use of the 'Wisdom's Table' hymn, not liking the use of the word 'fool' to refer to Christ (at least that's what I think it means) even though this theme was picked up from the 1 Corinthians 1 reading and God's folly being wiser than human wisdom.  Ah well, can't please them all.

This week I have glanced at some stuff on natural church growth.  It all sounds very fine and lovely but it doens't quite connect for me.

The true fruit of apple trees, it says, is not apples, it's more apple trees: the raison d'etre of apple trees is to make more apple trees.  Hence, it claims, by analogy, churches exist to make more churches.  Well, hmm.

In the wild, apple trees don't produce all that much fruit, enough presumably to ensure that there will be more apple trees, though most of the 'offspring' clearly won't survive, otherwise the planet would be overrun by apple trees.  Further, the point of reproduction is that apple trees don't live forever - they die, so if they don't pass on their genes there will be no more apple trees.

Also, apple trees, as we tend to think of them, are grown and tended for the specific purpose of producing apples.  They are pruned and grafted to generate the desired product.  And this has biblical precedent in the analogy of John 15 - I AM the vine.  These aren't 'natural' vines, they are subject to vineculture.  Vines and apple trees have a productive life after which, unless they are wild, they are cut down and mulched or burned; even in the wild they will sooner or later die of old age.  Maybe the natural church growth models recognise this life-cycle issue, that churches have a finite span, but I didn't spot it (they talk of leaves forming compost but not dead trees).  Maybe because churches are often seen as more like oak trees or redwoods which live for centuries we just never quite face this reality.

I think churches do eventually die, not because they have failed to reproduce (though they may have done) but because they are old, sick or tired.  One of our difficulties is our reluctance to accept this - we inject the latest bought-in package for evangelism, discipleship or outreach, we pour in money or personnel in a desperate attempt to keep to keep an old, frail body alive when what it really needs is to rest in peace.  Sometimes it is possible to resuscitate or even resurrect a church, but sometimes it isn't.  If we claim to be 'natural' in our approach, might there be a time to quietly annotate the metaphorical medical file of a church with the letters DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)?

None of us want to be esslesiastical undertakers or palliative care nurses, but it is a valid ministry.  Just as the hospice movement recognises that success is a good death rather than prolonging life, so we in church life need to learn when to intervene, when to stand back and how to make endings as healthy and hopeful as we can.

PS As I typed this I recalled ths story of the fig tree that Jesus 'zapped' at the start of holy week.  Sometimes this leads us to make an unhealthy association of death with punishment for unfruitfulness (in the case of this poor tree when it wasn't even fruit season).  Lack of doing/being what churches are meant to do/be will have its consequences, but that isn't the same as dying 'old and full of years.'

This is a folly - but it is built on solid rock, overlooking Leicestershire countryside and due to its Victorian over-engineering will weather countless storms.  So, was the builder a wise person?

The Tower of Pisa - a campanile - was built for a purpose but on poor foundations and over the years vast sums have been expended on maintaining it as its lean becomes ever more perilous.  So, was the builder foolish?

The parable of the wise and foolish builders is one of two I am employing for part of our service on Sunday, the other is that of the wise and foolish virgins.  They form part of the two discourses that 'book end' the Matthean version of the gospel.  Re-reading them this week has caused me to problematise the ideas of wisdom we so readily draw from the parables, neat, tidy and proof-texty - ideal for Sunday School but not so good for real life perhaps?

The foolish builder rushes in, puts up a building - which might be beautiful and functional - but it cannot weather the storms; the wise builder takes time to consider the best location and puts up a building - which may be ugly if functional - that can weather the storms.  (The foundations bit is Lukan not Matthean, but we happily read across).  The wise virgins have gone prepared for a long wait, the foolish ones have not, the consequences are inclusion or exclusion from the celebration.

Yeah but... It is obviously wise to think carefully before embarking on a project but this 'wisdom' can paralyse if we let it, never actually doing anything because we haven't covered every angle.  There is a balance to be found, and finding it isn't easy.  We obviously need to be prepared for the long haul (spare oil) but how long and what is enough reserve?  We don't actually know and sooner or later we have to take the risk.  The balance between wisdom and folly isn't as easy as perhaps we'd like it to be.

The second part of the servcie will move on to 1 Corinthians, specifically vv 18 - 31 to briefly consider divine wisdom and folly.  Churches - and Christians - can so easily err in the 'Jew/Greek' way either expecting God to do everything, and spectacularly at that, or championing current philosophy, whatever that may be.  But God's wisdom is folly - the whole Christ story is so ridiculous it offends - and even extends to God favouring 'the weak.'  This isn't about God making everything hunky dory for the weak, but the weak showing God's wisdom.  What might that mean for the two fellowships to whom I will preach at a joint service?  God's wisdom - the source of Christian hope - involved vulnerability, isolation, rejection and death, can we walk that path?  Is it wise?  Is it Godly? In 2 Corinthians are the famous words 'my grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.'  How is that wise?  Can we dare to see as God sees?

We will sing some wonderful old hymns that speak of God's wisdom in the challenges of life, but also this one as a preface to communion, based on Proverbs 9: 2 - 6

Come and eat at Wisdom's table,

Come and lay your burden down;

Come and learn the power of weakness-

Wisdom's cross and Wisdom's crown.

In her house there is a table,

Richly laid with bread and wine.

All the foolish are invited;

She calls to us, 'Come and dine'.

In this world we will have trouble

And our comforters will fail;

All our answers will seem useless,

All our hopes will seem unreal.

There are roads which lead to danger,

There are paths which lead to life:

Wisdom's ways are filled with choices

For the travellers she invites.

There are those who search for reasons,

there are those who look for signs:

Wisdom dances on the tombstone

of the fool who bled and died.

Come and eat at Wisdom's table,

Come and lay your burden down;

Come and learn the power of weakness-

Wisdom's cross and Wisdom's crown.

Doug Gay (fl. 1998) © Doug Gay

Last week I hosted what turned out to be a mildly annoying Churches Together Ministers' Meeting, during which the newest arrival told us what would have to change to fit with what was envisaged for the Parish.  Ascension - our one united communion service, something we hold very precious - would 'have' to be Anglican, the Pentecost united service would need to have its time changed because there would be parish baptisms at the time it is scheduled to occur, and as for the united Christmas Day service, impossible.  I could get into a whole tirade about the nonsense of baptisms occurring outside of normal public worship and what it says theologically and culturally, but it doesn't really fit this rant!

Yesterday I bumped into our Methodist minister at the induction service - his circuit includes both local congregations - and asked him how he felt about it.  He agreed with me, 'never mind the Kingdom let's worry about the parish,' he said cynically.  This afternoon I will be talking about the illusory nature of Christian Unity and the glimpses we get of what it just might be if only we could grasp the idea that it is the incoming Kingdom for which we pray, not the parish, the circuit or the gathered congregation.  My people are forgoing a 'Baptist' service so that we can use the much more liturgical WPCU form and are accustomed to closing our services in order to worship God with our siblings on Christ when this is possible and desirable.  Maybe this is why I get cross when others don't/won't do likewise.

Yours is the Kingdom -

Not ours, but Yours.

Yours is the Kingdom -

Not the parish and the circuit

The Association, the District, the Synod, the Diocese.

Help us not to confuse our structures with Yours

Not to force our will or resist Yours;

As we pray for the incoming of Your Kingdom

May we grasp how this transcends not only nation, race, class and gender

But denomination and tradition too.