Many of my friends, 'real life' and 'virtual world,' are in tough places at the moment.  Lots of painful struggles, deep anxieties, bereavements and emotional or spiritual emptiness.  This is for them - or you if you are one of them , several of you are - a picture from a card given to me many years ago by Rachel Jenkins, my college tutor at the time, and some words from a Roman Catholic hymn which expresses something of God's eternal presence.  Hope they help.

One of the RC songs suggested for our songs of praise service got me thinking.  I think I like what it is saying, even though it does not qualify as even remotely decent poetry.  It speaks of the limitations of our responses to God...

The love I have for you, my Lord,

Is only a shadow of youe love for me;

Only a shadow of your love for me;

Your deep abiding love.

My own belief in you, my Lord,

Is only a shadow of your faith in me;

Only a shadow of your fiath in me;

Your deep and lasting faith.

My life is in your hands;

My life is in your hands.

My love for you will grow, my God.

Your light in me will shine.

The dream I dream today, my Lord,

Is only a shadow of your dream for me;

Only a shadow of all that will be;

If I but follow you.

The joy I feel today, my Lord,

Is only a shadow of your joys for me;

Only a shadow of your joys for me;

When we meet face to face.

Carey Landry from 'Hymns Old and New' pub. Kevin Mayhew (No 536)

That our dreams for ourselves are but a shadow of God's dreams for us - that seems to be something worth pondering.

On 12th October we have a 'songs of praise' service at a local sheltered housing complex, with hymns and songs chosen by lunch club folk.

Among the requests are three for which I have no music - though I think have now tracked down the words.  One is an old Salvationist hymn and two are Roman Catholic (I definitely have these words as I have on permanent, unofficial loan a copy of the RC Hymns Old and New words only).  Can anyone help?

The hymns are:

Jesus, keep me near the cross (evidently the tune is called Healing Stream) (Salvationist)

There is a river (tune may be called something like Going Home) (RC)

The love I have for you my Lord (RC)

Photocopies or scans of music would be great - and we are CCLI registered so legal too, I believe.  If you can help, please leave a comment and I'll email you (you don't need to post your email address, I can email you via the blog service)

If nothing else it will make a change from 'Abide with me' or 'How Great Thou Art' which are requested every time.

Thank you one and all.

Yesterday I finally completed a draft of Sunday's reflections (we're not having a sermon per se) on three of the Matthean 'Kingdom of Heaven' parables set alongside the 'Sheep and Goats.'

The thing that struck me most as I was working with the texts was the significance of tiny things, things that seem at first insignificant.  Let's face it, two of the three Kingdom parables I'm using are so tiny you could miss them.  Tiny little seeds (wheat, weeds or mustard) tiny portions of leaven/yeast, or, in the Matthew 25 story seemingly insignifiant actions - a cup of water, a welcome, a visit, a meal (given or not given).  For good or for ill, done or left undone, tiny things matter.

In each of the three Kingdom parables, the original 'tiny thing' is both hidden and lost - seed is buried in the ground, yeast worked into the dough.  When the soil is again tilled, the seed is gone; when the bread is broken the yeast cannot be found, it has been killed in the baking.  There is something sacrificial about these tiny things, they are lost but the outworking of their influence continues (again, for good or ill).

Challenging texts - encouraging us that the unseen, seemingly insignificant, good things, God things, matter but at the same time cautioning that the unseen, seemingly insignificant, undone good or chosen bad things also matter.

One day we'll all be long gone and, grave stones notwithstanding, most of us will be 'forgotten as a dream' but the significance of who we are and what we do or don't do will survive us.  As I pondered the service, I was reminded of some of the people and actions that for me have been 'mustard seed' - people who would be startled to be recalled I'm sure:  Mr Cann, Mr & Mrs Higgs, 'Auntie' Biddie Burt (the formality reflects the age!) - if there were to be non-conformist 'Saints' these, long past Methodists and Congregationalists would be among my nominations (most of the Baptist ones I can think of are still very much alive in this world!).  These folk, and others, taught me much about what it means to be a disciple of Christ not with great speeches or learned exposition (though at least a couple of them could have done) but in the tiny things.  For that I'm truly thankful.

This coming Sunday we have harvest festival, loosely based on the BMS material but with a collection of non-perishables for a local project supporting homeless people and the women's refuge.  It is also a communion service, for which I'll be employing the Iona words suggested in the BMS material.  Reading these words, watching the DVD clip (and also those from other harvest appeals) made we feel that a lot of what we do at Communion is actually (strong words I know) a theological obscenity - we become so preoccupied with making it look lovely (afterall, it is a very important aspect of worship) worrying about who will receive it and what it all means (as if it is for us to debar or understand) that we miss the point that millions of people will have neither bread not water.  This isn't the place for a big debate about communion theologies (though of course mine is right :o) ) nor am I saying that we shouldn't take it seriously and do it properly - just that I have been challenged.  So here is my response to my thoughts...

The table of the LORD is spread

A table purchased for this precise purpose

Expensive wood, ornately shaped and finished

Dusted and polished

Placed, just so, central, prominent – here

The table of the LORD is spread

A snow-white cloth carefully selected

Embroidered or plain, crocheted or linen

Starched and pressed

Placed, just so, even, equal – here

The table of the LORD is spread

Gleaming silverware and thimble-sized glass

Specially chosen plates, purpose-made trays

Buffed and filled

Placed, just so, here and here and here

The table of the LORD is spread

Precise cubes of pre-sliced bread

A small loaf, partially cut for fear of crumbs

Tidy and purposeful

Placed, just so, covered by doilies – here

The table of the LORD is spread

Deep red specially purchased ‘wine’

Poured with clinical precision

Drips wiped away

Placed, just so, stacked in trays – here

The table of the LORD is spread

Ritualised remembering

Where well fed westerners seek spiritual succour

Whilst the two-third world seeks bread and water

Untidy, uncomfortable – and not here

The table of the LORD is spread

I was hungry and you did not feed me

I was thirsty and you did not give we water

When LORD, did we see you thus?

Perhaps it is here.

The table of the LORD is spread

A gopak table in a borrowed room

A pottery plate and a glass tumbler

Yesterday’s bread roll and diluted squash

Come one, come all

Glimpses of grace and hopes of glory –

Perhaps they’re here…

For those lovely sacramental Baptist friends who are reading this, no, I haven't capitulated, I know what I mean by my words!!  The most profound experiences of communion I've had have been in unexpected places with ad hoc arrangements, which I can't help feeling are somehwat more authentic than the ritualised remembering and construction of liturgical channels encountered in dedicated buildings.