Today I had the 2 day's notice funeral at 11a.m. and I have the last ever Kidz Club at 6:30.  It makes for one of those days that reminds what a weird role this is, how you need to be something of a chameleon, how much it is a privilege, how it really is about 'limping with the Lord'

I was driving over to Loughborough listening to the Ken Bruce show - ever-so holy - and one of the songs he played was 'The Living Years' by Mike and the Mechanics.  It seemed very apposite given the context in which I was to be conducting the funeral: 'it's too late when we die to admit we don't see eye to eye.'  I had been told there'd be around 15 people at the funeral, and had printed off 25 service sheets; in the end there were nearer 50 so announcing hymns 'omitting verse 3' from the red book, whilst not my ideal, was inevitable.  What really struck me was the great parting of the waves as the deceased's widow, her family and their friends sat one side of the aisle and his blood relatives the other.  Whilst there had been enough generosity of spirit to ensure the blood relatives were named, I did wonder how much they felt able to engage with the picture I was painting.  I see too much of this at funerals and sometimes wish that when people have domestic fall outs they could see how it impacts on this most vulnerable of times.  The stepson in thanking me said he felt I'd managed the 'fine line' well, and both sides seemed genuinely appreciative of what was offered.

Then, still disguised as a vicar, it was into the town and to a supermarket to buy food for tonight's end of term, end of club, party.  I always feel a bit conspicuous walking around dressed in black, and find it mildly amusing when this is juxtaposed with buying crisps, cakes and fizz.  The woman at the checkout was unusually chatty and we talked a bit about the importance of parties, the place of 'religion' and the need for people to offer support in times of crisis.  Whilst she didn't adhere to any one religion, she said, she thought there was a lot of good in all major world faiths.  That was refreshing!  As I sat in the cafe munching my lunch, I pondered the visible representative of the church bit: what do people make of it when they see a vicar eating ham, egg and chips in Sainsbury's?!  (Other supermarkets are available!)

Now I have to sort out the food for tonight's party, drive (because the weather is incredibly wet and thundery) to one of the Dibley supermarkets to get some flowers for the kids to give to the official leaders and work out whether or not I'm glad it's too wet for them to have a water fight!

Recently someone asked me what gave me the most joy about ministry. It was - and is - an extremely good question, and I wouldn't claim to have a good answer for it.  But on days like today, when I can offer a little bit of comfort and hope in a place of pain, am allowed to engage in conversations on matters of faith or spirituality, and can then muck around with a group of children hopefully giving them some special memories to take into adulthood, I get glimpses of why all the 'pants' stuff is actually worthwhile because it gives me the opportunities to be, if only in some microscopic way, Gospel in a world desperately seeking meaning. 

Is it just where I live that crematoria get cancellations?  I have just been asked to cover a funeral for another minister because the undertaker managed to secure a cancellation which means the date/time can no longer be fitted into his schedule.

When I first encountered it, I wondered if the General Resurrection had come early, albeit staged, to Loughborough, but it seems undertakers round here block book slots and then cancel the spares.  That all seems a bit, well, sick, to me.  And shows no thought for those who are asked at anything down to 12 hours notice (I jest not) to take the funerals moved to these slots. 

Many of my colleagues say no to anything under 7 days notice, out of their tradition or off their immediate patch - which means it falls to me and the guy I'm covering for to pick up these funerals.  Whilst I have a lot of sympathy with their view - and do feel the undertakers often extract the archangel - from a pastoral (and, if I'm honest, protection of the Church's public face) perspective I'm not going to say no if I can possibly avoid it.

This morning I had an email regarding an act of worship I am to lead, requesting that it reflect a theme of 'Baptistic worship through the centuries.'  Thankfully I get 20th century rather than 17th, although singing the odd Benjamin Keach hymn might be very funny.  As I'd already put some work into it, not knowing the theme, I am hoping to define my offering as 'late 20th century British' but I am finding it intriguing trying to think what might be quintessential C20 Baptistic worship - at least without resorting to (a) Blessed be the tie that binds (which I can't stand because I find it mawkish) (b) Kendrick (and him crucified, as my sister would say) (c) Payne & Winward and/or Patterns and Prayers.  So, gentle readers, what for you might define C20 baptistic worship - in a good, bad or indifferent way!

For the record, my current intention is to use a responsive psalm (as in back of BHB and BPW), a couple of scripture readings, some images and music for reflection (that's the late C20 bit!)and some 'prepared extempore' prayers.  No hymns/songs if I can avoid them (because the whole thing is limited to 15 mins), but if I must then probably something from BPW written by a real live Baptist during C20.

I have been re-reading the accounts of Jacob's two dreams/visions/encounters with God in readiness for the act of worship I'm due to lead next week.  What struck me was the end of the encounter at Peniel where Jacob-Israel walked into the future with a permanent limp a reminder that he had wrestled with God.  I found this unexpectedly helpful! 

To wrestle with God - if not literally - seems to me to be a fairly normal part of Christian dicipleship: what is God saying?  Must it really mean this or that, am I strong enough to face this or that challenge, and so  on and so on.  Jacob emerged from his encounter both stronger and weaker: as a person he grew (let's face it, he probably needed to!) yet he was permanently weakened by his injury.  There have been times when I've argued with God a lot, and times when I've thought 'hey, you'll win anyway, I'll just give in now."  Both can, at times, be the right response, I think.  But I am attracted by the image of the wounded disiciple, the person whose encounter with God leaves them with a limp.  I'm not quite sure what to do with this image, but it does seem a helpful one as I think about the various challenges facing my little congregation at this time.  

In Leicester is a really excellent Fairtrade shop called Just (their banner image reproduced here).  Long gone is the hippy-image: good lighting and state of the art shelving coupled with a wide range of gifts, clothes and food makes it a place worth browsing.  Being housed nextdoor to the former SPCK bookshop is a plus, allowing me to JUSTify (groan) visiting it quite often.

Yesterday I had a letter from them telling me that trade is down and their own future is less secure.  In part this is because many of the major retailers have caught on to the commerical side of Fairtrade with M&S and Sainsbury's selling a lot of Traidcraft products, and all the supermarkets stocking a lot of Fairtrade goods.  This they applaud, but point out the implications it has for them, the small, independent Fairtrade retailer who source their products far more widely then 'just' Traidcraft/Tearcraft.  It made me think quite hard - as I've done in the past when preparing services for Fairtrade fortnight - about what really fair trade might look like.  There aren't any easy answers - it seems important to buy the Fairtrade products in the big shops because the impact of them ceasing to sell them would be horrendous; at the same time, if we don't support local independents (whether the Fairtrade shop, pick-your-own fruit farm, butcher, baker or post office) they will disappear with massive consequences for people on our own doorsteps.

Tricky questions to ponder, and I don't know any good answers, but I might take up the invitation of the people at Just to have a Fairtrade party in the autumn...