A picture with the paint still wet

Christmas Eve sermon 2014

Revd Alan Horner was a Methodist minister who inspired many people during his time as a circuit minister, superintendent and district chair (including chairing the Methodist church in Scotland). I was privileged to know him in his retirement when he lived in Milton Keynes and was involved with the Living Spirituality Network. Over the Christmas period I have chosen some poems written by Alan to share with you as we consider together the wonder of Christ’s coming among us. Tonight, I would like to share with you a poem called

A Picture With The Paint Still Wet.

The Word became flesh

and has his portrait painted,

but not hung in a Gospel Gallery,

gazed on by the multitudes

for a fixed fee. His

was a picture with the paint still wet,

changing with the changing light,

open to interpretations, all correct,

depending on where the viewer stood.

The Virgin Birth was a stroke

of genius, an inspiration of eternity,

unique in its conception,

delicate in its portrayal,

showing the seeming simple

life of obedient faith.

Bethlehem background

might have been predicted,

being the home town

of that most honoured king,

himself a son of God,

though wayward with it,

the singer of God's praise.

He was a shepherd too, of sheep

and of God's nation flock,

but shepherds were but common folk,

at home in sheepfolds

or in sheltering barns,

no airs or graces, though sufficient grace.

Angels and stars were messengers

in that ancient world, where

all such forces were servants

of the most high God,

and served to indicate

the face of the divine,

the source and end of true wisdom

for all who love the truth,

whatever their religion, race,

and unlikely gifts. Such are

the Magi, also in the canvas,

moving across the screen, adding

their own flavour, colour to the whole.

That the paints run and the lines blur

is not a matter of surprise. This

is not the stuff of science or of history's

assumed or proven fact. This is not prose,

but poetry, with its own power

to reach the heart, which static pictures lack.

Alan Horner

When the paint is still wet, a painting can still be changed. A line can be blurred, or lifted, or a tip of the canvas can cause paint to run and blend – deliberately or not. It is still a changeable image, with almost a living quality. Alan’s suggestion in his poem is that we think of the story of Christ’s birth in the same way. Even now, more than 2000 years after the event, the story is still new and immediate, still with potential to change as the still wet paint blurs or is blended. God has not finished his painting.

But, we might think, the story is the story. It happened, all that time ago, and the story we tell does not change. Mary and Joseph travel to Bethlehem, fail to find a comfortable private room where Mary can have her child, use a manger as a cot, and are visited by shepherds with stories of angelic visitors. We know this story well. How can it change? How can the paint still be wet?

The change, of course, is in us. Alan in his poem reminds us that from different angles we see the picture differently, interpret what we see differently, and as Jesus remains as alive and as fresh as ever, we see his picture catching the light in different ways, as wet paint does. Some of us look from the vantage point of morning light, clear and strong - perhaps so strong that our morning preoccupations shine against the wet paint and stop us from enjoying the colours. Some of us see the picture with its colours made golden by a setting sun, perhaps dazzled by the way the gilding on the halos and the magis’ gifts reflect the light back; some of us see the picture through the gloom of depression or trouble, unable to see the details. But we are not tied to seeing the picture in that way every time we look at it. Jesus came into the world to show us God’s love and bring us God’s salvation. That is an offer of change, not in God, but in us. So we can ask him to show us the picture in a new light. We can ask him to use the divine paintbrush to help us to respond in love, and to grow as followers of Jesus. For every one of us, as we see the picture in new ways – perhaps one day seeing how we can share in the awed worship of the shepherds, or another day seeing how we can join in the great ‘yes’ to God’s work said by Mary – we can be changed. If we allow God to put us into the painting, to treat us as part of that picture with the paint still wet, we can be coloured and recoloured, blended and changed.

The Word became flesh and invited us to follow him, to love him, to be a part of his picture. It is a picture with the paint still wet, unfinished, growing, inviting. Will you allow the poetry of God made human to reach your heart? Will you risk allowing Jesus to paint you into the picture, and to change you, starting tonight?

Gaudete

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.  1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18

The third Sunday in Advent is often called Gaudete Sunday. It falls near to the point when Advent observance steps up its daily attention to preparing for Christmas with the inclusion of the 'O Antiphons' in daily offices. Gaudete, or Rose Sunday, was widely observed in the medieval period, fell out of favour following the Reformation, but has been revived in some churches recently. The name Rose Sunday comes from the use of the colour pink, which we most often see in the pink candle included in the Advent wreath, and sometimes even see in rose coloured robes worn by the clergy. The change for one week to rose points to a theme which colours, in more ways than one, the solemnity of Advent. The purple of Advent signals to us, as in Lent, that this is a time of year for an emphasis on prayer and fasting, for avoiding indulgence and for considering how we can grow in our discipleship. They are all things for doing all year round, but it helps to be reminded sometimes, because it is easy to get caught up in the daily affairs of life and to put our spiritual lives on the back burner.

Gaudete Sunday is very much a part of this reminder to us of our spiritual priorities, but with a particular emphasis. Gaudete means Rejoice, or be joyful, and most people associate the word with the rousing Latin Christmas Carol made popular by Steel eye span (though I still cherish being part of a carol service at St Paul's Cathedral and hearing the choir singing Gaudete as they walked, holding candles, down the nave of the darkened cathedral.)

Of course, some may resent the imposition of a day that tells you to rejoice. You know the feeling. Something has happened that affects your mood negatively. You've lost your wallet, or your dog has died, or got a lower mark than you expected in the exam even though you revised like mad, or you've been overlooked for that promotion you were sure you deserved.... And then some so-and-so says 'cheer up!' No thanks.

But this morning we heard St Paul telling the church in Thessalonica to rejoice always. Did he really think that on the bad days, when someone was ill, or the authorities were cracking down on Christians, they should 'Cheer up'? Well, not quite. Of course if something goes wrong there is going to be disappointment or anger or fear or sadness.  The temptation can be to make those feelings the main theme of the story. The Thessalonicans could tell a story of struggle, persecution, infighting (with all the personal unpleasantness that brings), and loss. Dwelling on those things would have been a sure route to depression, decline and failure as a church. Who wants to go to a miserable church, or hang out with miserable people? There are different ways of telling a story, which motivate or damage, build or destroy. The way to motivate and to build is to rejoice and give thanks. It doesn't mean pretending to be happy when you are not, but always being open to the positive, seeking it out and describing it.

For example, when I reflect on the life of this Benefice, and the work I have to do here, I could tell a story of financial struggle. We don't have enough money coming in. That's a fact. We don't make enough money between us to pay our parish share, and that is a problem - one that must be overcome. And then there's the burden of the buildings. Those lead roofs! The hassle of sorting out repairs after lead thefts, with all that that will cost. And then, five churchyards, with all the hassle and work that sorting them out brings... I could go on. But I won't, because it would make us miserable, and it would be missing what is really important. 

The real, joyful story of Living Brook knows and acknowledges the difficulties I've just described. And it accepts that as part of a bigger, joyful picture of Jesus building his church in our communities. A story which in 2014 saw quiet communion going weekly and growing as a haven of peaceful prayer, and Toddler Praise also going weekly and growing as a place for very young children to learn about Jesus. It saw three motivated people taking on training for new forms of ministry, a wider group stepping up to the mark as part of the leadership structure, and a new youth fellowship form and flourish. It saw a pastoral care group established and a regular collection for the Food Bank. It saw hundreds of pounds raised for our charities and a lot of money raised at many fun events for our churches too. This year saw the appointment of Living Brook's first curate, and we will need to pray for her in the coming months as she completes her training and prepares to join the exciting and vibrant place that we are in. This is a wonderful Benefice and God is doing amazing work. On days when it is hard, I tell myself this story, a true story of Jesus and his people - if you like, I count my blessings. How can you hear this story and not be awed by the way God is working amongst us? And I've only scratched the surface! There is much to be encouraged by, even in hard moments, much to be thankful for and much to pray for - the difficult stuff like finding parish share and the celebratory stuff like praying for Deborah.

Paul's instruction is as important for us to heed as it was for the Thessalonicans, not only today, but every day. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 

The Gates of Heaven

Recently most of my posts have been the texts of sermons, which I am trying to be in the habit of sharing as a way of making them accessible to those who are unable to be in church for any reason, or want to think more about what they heard, or who just like reading sermons! This week my Lay Reader is preaching, which will be a treat for the congregation at 11am, and so I've had time to think more generally.

At the moment I'm indulging myself in reading a book by one of my favourite theologians, Paula Gooder. In her book 'Heaven', she writes about how in ancient Israel the Temple in Jerusalem was understood as the place where God dwelt, literally, in the Holy of Holies. The Temple therefore was a symbol of God's presence, of God's favour for Israel and indeed of God himself. It was where his people went to encounter Him. The veil of the sanctuary which hid God's presence was like a gateway to heaven, the veil or raqia that divides heaven from Earth, mortal life from eternity. Passing through the veil into the Holy of Holies, and into God's presence, was to enter Heaven- to be in the place where heaven and earth come together.

The New Testament speaks of Jesus as the gateway, the way to the father; cf John 14:6 'Jesus said to him: 'I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.' As Jesus died, the veil in the Temple was torn in two. The Holy of Holies was open to all, no longer reserved only for the High Priest, but flung open by the great high priest Jesus. In Jesus the presence of God is revealed, and the way to God is manifest. It was no longer necessary to go to the temple, because God's presence was to be found not in a place but in a person. Jesus. The temple had no further purpose and was destroyed by the Romans in 70AD and not replaced. God is no longer to be found there.

Jesus, ascending to heaven, sits at the right hand of the father and continues to be our way to the father's presence. Before his death Jesus spoke to his disciples of the work he would do, saying 'I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it' (Matthew 16:18). This saying was the focus of our thinking at the Peterborough Diocesan Ministers Conference last week. The church is Jesus's church, and Jesus is both architect and chief builder on the project. The church is not a building like the temple, nor an institution like the temple hierarchy, but a gathering of people who seek to follow Jesus and to live out his commands. 

Jesus replaces the temple, and so in Him we find our way to the dwelling place of God. He is the symbol of God's presence, of God's favour for all who follow him, and of God Himself. There is no longer a veil separating people from God, but rather an invitation to encounter the Father through Jesus the Son.

The church that Jesus is building is, Paul tells us, his body, of which he is the head (Ephesians 4:15). As his body, the church finds itself in the onerous and honourable position of being that place on earth where people can come to encounter Jesus, and through Jesus, God the Father. 

The church, as Christ's body, succeeds to the place of the Temple. Jesus is building in us a place where all people should be able to encounter God. No veils, no curtains, nothing to hide God or shield us from Him, or Him from us. Instead, coming to the church should be the way to meet Jesus, and it should allow Jesus to make each person who comes to be another building block in the church He is building. 

As each person becomes a building block, they become part of the active and real connection to God, the sanctuary of God's presence that Jesus is making of us. We stand at the gateway to heaven, in the place where the veil used to be, and so for those who approach us we are, in a way, the gateway to heaven. This is what Jesus surely meant when he told Peter that he was giving him the keys to the kingdom of heaven. We know the way, and we can direct people to it,  unlock the gate, usher them in, make them welcome. Or by our behaviour we can prevent people from finding a welcome and from encountering the Father and the Son. 

Jesus intention is that we will welcome people. The gates of hell- the only other place to go apart from the gates of heaven - will not prevail against Jesus' church. He told Peter that. Jesus does not want people going through the gates of hell and away from Him. He tore down the barrier between Earth and Heaven. The temple priests had to keep people out of the presence of God, worshipping from the other side of the veil. Our job as the church is to show people into the presence of God, to be a gate - the very gate of Heaven- that is open and unlocked, and to usher them through into the presence of Jesus. 

Encourage one another

A dying man had made a great deal of money in his working life, but he was determined to keep it for himself. Before he died he left his wife clear instructions that she was to bury all his money with him when he died so that he would have the use of it in the afterlife.

After he died and had been placed in his coffin, the funeral director was just closing it up when his widow popped a box in beside the body.

A friend, watching the proceedings, turned to her and said: ‘surely you wouldn’t be fool enough to bury all that money with your dead husband?’

‘Well, I promised him,’ said the loyal widow, ‘that he would be buried with his money.’

‘You are really going to bury him with all that money?’

‘I certainly am,’ she replied. ‘I got it all together, put it into my account, and put a cheque in the coffin. If he can cash it, he can spend it!’

(Joke attributed to Mark Bailey by David Pytches)

Of course, the parable of the talents isn’t really about money. But imagining money buried in the ground (not necessarily in a coffin, of course) does remind us how wasteful it is possible to be. Money that has been buried does nothing; is no good to anyone – and paper money would rot away. If we don’t use the gifts and abilities that God gave us in His service, then we are doing the equivalent of burying them in the ground.

Sunday readings at this time of year tend to focus on the future: they are the passages about being ready for when God comes to change things, to bring the new heaven and the new earth into being. Jesus and Paul today are reminding us to be ready. We don’t think about this aspect of following Jesus very much. Perhaps that’s because the warnings of what will happen if we are not ready, or not found to be serving and following God faithfully, are – frankly – alarming. Jesus is not being gentle, meek and mild when he speaks of throwing a servant into the outer darkness. We get so alarmed by that part of the message that we miss the good bits. Because actually it is very good! Jesus is coming back, one day. And when he does, we who follow him will be able to join him and will receive eternal life. Those who have used the gifts that we are given in his service will be commended.

We are all able to use our gifts in God’s service, every one if us, no matter how old or young we are. Some of you have served the Lord faithfully in many ways for a long time, and perhaps a few of you feel that you are too old, or too unwell, or too bound by responsibilities as carers or at work, to do any more now. But I say to you that you are never too old or too infirm to do what St Paul asked the Thessalonians to do as they prepared for the coming of Jesus. Paul said: ‘Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.’

Recently I visited a dying man. As we talked – and talking was very difficult for him- he spoke words of encouragement to me and thanked me for visiting. For him, the return of Jesus is absolutely imminent. He is old, unwell, but still wanting to show love and encouragement to others. I know that he prays for me and many other people, as well as saying words of encouragement. I also receive encouragement and prayer from many other older members. Those members may not be able to do the practical things any more – the cleaning, the coffee making, the visiting, the teaching, or any of the other things that many of us do together to help our church to grow. But those central things, which strengthen and enable every one of us, to pray and to encourage – we can all do them, every single one of us.

Prayer and encouragement are an investment which leads to growth. If you pray for the church and its members, and use every chance you have to encourage and build up the others in the church, then you won’t be burying your gifts, you will be growing not only your own but other peoples gifts too. People who have been encouraged and supported achieve so much more. I know two girls who were encouraged by a 95 year old to believe they could do anything for God. So at the ages of 6 and 4 they decided that they wanted to hold a Bring and Buy Sale to raise money for underprivileged children. The adults around them encouraged them to do it. The 95 year old booked a space in the church building. Other church members made sure that the event got into the church newsletter and photocopied the posters that the girls designed. Others were there with the girls on the day. This was in 1999, and those children raised £60. Today in 2014 those girls, now adults, are still actively following Jesus. Being encouraged and prayed for by other church members, especially the oldest ones, still sustains them as followers of Jesus.

So as we look forward to the return of Jesus, I encourage you not at any time to bury your gifts, and thank you that you use them so well to serve Jesus and build your church. And I join with Paul to say to you: ‘encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.’ 

Saints and spirits

Once we pass the autumn equinox and the nights get longer, thoughts seem to turn to darker subjects. Fireside stories spoke of human fears and how we hope to drive them away. In the days before the Enlightenment and the rule of science over all knowledge, people commonly believed in unseen powers and spirits, in witches and ghosts and poltergeists. They believed too in good spirits, Angels and other beings sent by God to guard us and fight off the evil ones. But if you met a spirit, how would you know if it was good or bad? Appearances wouldn't help - the Hallowe'en costumes today's children wear don't represent older ideas of evil spirits at all. Evil is subtler than that, it is the great deceiver, the great liar, getting into your home through guile and persuasion and promises of wonderful things.

Evil, whether we still believe in ghosts and ghouls or not, is no easier to discern today than it was for our medieval forebears. It is still the master of charm and of convincing lies. That is why so many young people have been deceived into following people who have evil intentions. Those teenagers who join Islamic State, or who find themselves trapped in extreme sects of other kinds, have believed the convincing stories of leaders who make them feel needed and valued. They may not have been abducted dramatically by werewolves or whatever other Halloween stories people scare themselves with, but they are just as lost.

St John tells us that there is one sure way of telling an evil spirit from a good one. The test still works: those who are not for God are against God. A spirit that is good, John says, will agree that Jesus Christ was born and became flesh and blood. God became human, as base and vulnerable as every one of us. An evil spirit will deny Jesus, or suggest that Jesus was only ever a spirit being, not a human. Jesus is fully human and fully divine, says John, and we can only tryout for good those who can say so. Others will lead us away from the truth, from God.

This test does still work. We may not see it in terms of spiritual warfare - or at least not in the way that our ancestors did. Their legacy, the chaos of Halloween activities followed by the peace and reassurance of All Saints tide - good triumphing over evil -  remains surprisingly strong given the scientific approach we take most of the time. But on the whole we don't expect spirits to be appearing in human form and trying to tempt us away from faith. What does happen, all the time, is that real ordinary humans do precisely that. Of course, most of them aren't outrightly evil, though we can't deny that every generation does produce a share of properly evil people. Hitler, Bernard Munyagishari (leader of the Hutu militia during the genocide of Tutsis), Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, leader of Islamic state in Iraq.

Most people aren't like that. But that's the danger. Just as a medieval fireside story involved spirits who convinced you they were human and kind and on your side before leading you into behaviour that separated you from God, so today the people around us with their human priorities will lead us away from God. They tell us it won't hurt to miss church 'just this once' to go out or stay in. How many times does 'just this once' happen before it becomes a habit? They embarrass you, so that you're not comfortable saying grace before meals or praying in front of people- or anywhere really. They tell you that you can be a Christian without going to church. Well. Maybe for a while. But soon the habits of prayer and the things you learned in church slip away, and your Christian friends aren't there to help you. The test of someone who is really on your side, who will help you towards God, and not away from Him, is that they truly believe that Jesus Christ is really human and really divine.

I'm not telling you to drop every friend you have who isn't a Christian. No, not at all. As I see it, we need first to be as wary as a medieval on a dark night, praying and making sure that the people around us do not, however unintentionally, draw us away from faith. Rather, the challenge for the saints- and yes, that's us (not just the rugby team) - is to draw the unbelievers towards God. Since our happiness lies in following Jesus, we should be sharing that happiness and showing people the way to God.

In the fireside stories the evil ones were cut down with the sword or struck by lightning or disappeared by prayer. That makes a reassuring ending - no more evil. But in real life the only one of those weapons available to us is prayer, and we use it to heal and help, not to kill. Pray for the people you know who don't believe in the truth of Jesus, and try to be a strong influence to change them. It takes courage sometimes, but it is the way of grace. Look around you. Who isn't here today? Some aren't here because they are unwell or on holiday. But what about the others? If you know someone is missing because they are persuaded not to put God first, because they are tempted by influential people who don't follow Jesus, what can you do to help them back? How can you encourage and support them to re prioritise?

In real life the battle of good v evil may not be as exciting as Hallowe'en followed by All Saints Day, but it is more real and as vital as it ever was. All Saints- and I mean it, that really is you- are called to fight the battle and proclaim Jesus Christ, the man who is God.

This is the word of the Lord

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. What nonsense! The bruises and cuts of my childhood are long since healed, and yet it has taken most of my life so far to get over the hurt of some of the words that were said to me. Words wield so much power, don't they? We are surrounded by the words of journalists and politicians, of dramatists and novelists. Small phrases carry the weight of big meaning. Today on the whatsapp group used by my wider family (whatsapp is a way of keeping in touch at almost no cost, useful when part of a family is overseas), the phrase that will appear repeatedly is 'happy birthday', because today my eldest neice is 11 years old, and also my eldest daughter is 21 years old. Those happy birthday messages carry wishes of joy, reminders of love and family commitment. The words will make a difference to the quality of the birthday for those two people today.

Words hurt or heal, bring hope and encouragement, or frustration and trouble. The phrase that most makes me sink inside is 'can I have a word?' Somehow such a word is never good! I've listened to, and unfortunately had to say, such hard words this week. Sometimes hard things must be said, but in such cases the challenge is to use them in a way that becomes life giving- to take the hard situation and speak into it a better way. This week we also celebrated the marriage of Roger and Alice. Their marriage was made official by the speaking of words: good, loving and committed words. When times are hard, they will be able to remember those words and take strength and determination from them.

The first phrase I learned in New Testament Greek was ἐν {en} ἀρχή {ar-khay'} ἦν {ane} ὁ {ho} λόγος {log'-os}. 'In the beginning was the word', the opening phrase of John's gospel. John was writing of the creative force of God, speaking words - 'let there be...' - that brought our world into being. God's creative use of the word is of course more powerful than any human speaking- none of us can make something physical merely by saying the word! Nevertheless, our words make worshippers of us, and make covenants between us. They make rules that protect or inhibit, and they can make learning happen. At our best, we use words creatively by listening to The Word, to Our Lord Jesus Christ, and learning from Him.

In our reading from Nehemiah we see a people who have followed their own selfish ways instead of obeying God, and who have suffered the consequences. Finding a copy of the scriptures, unread for generations, the people are challenged to change and to live better lives, following God, not the false deities set up by local rulers. They are challenged to live in a way that is loving and respectful to all- not exploiting others for work, sex or money, but seeing all people as children of God. This lesson is at the heart of the law, summarised by the exhortation to love God first, and then to love our neighbours as ourselves. This is the word of the Lord, the creative word that gives life and value to every human being. The people of Judah were transformed on that day by God's word. Jesus reminds us that God's word is eternal and unchanging. It remains as vital and life giving for us as it was for Nehemiah and Ezra, for John and the early church.

Today, Bible Sunday, I urge you to keep up the habit of regularly reading God's word- or to start a new habit, beginning perhaps with Mark's gospel. Don't just read though- allow God's creative word to challenge you and change you; to draw you into worship and into action. Words make a difference. Just as saying 'happy birthday' or 'I love you ' or 'well done!' makes a positive difference to certain people every day, so God's word, when it is truly heard, changes hearts and minds and attitudes. The Bible remains a living word, because our God uses it to speak creatively to us. Let us be open to be challenged and changed by the Logos- by Jesus- and then use our own words carefully too, to bring life and love to all who hear us.

Faith, love and patient hope

Sunday 19th October 2014.  Trinity 18.  

Last Sunday I went to Mass at a church in Pretoria. As people arrived and the music group tuned up, I prayed for you in the services that you were celebrating in each of the Living Brook churches. The parish priest, Fr Bogdan, was celebrating his first Sunday masses after returning from a holiday visiting family in Poland, and spoke of how he had prayed for his church in his absence too. And during the service he baptised a little girl - while he was baptising baby Kesia, I was thinking and praying about Aidan, who I have the privilege of baptising on my first Sunday back from holiday too. I prayed for Aidan, and for all of Living Brook, that you will grow in faith and love and hope.

Fr Bogdan and I, in praying for our people when we are away from them, followed the example of St Paul. In our reading from Paul's letter to the Thessalonians this morning, Paul (who was probably writing form Corinth), wrote that he was praying for the people there, and his prayer was 'constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labour of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ'.

For the Thessalonians, the work of faith and love and steadfast, or patient, hope, was lived out in a society that didn't support a life following Jesus Christ. In the Roman Empire many gods were venerated, and the message of Paul that there was one God and Jesus is his son was subversive. Giving up all the other gods was going way against the grain. It was like asking a businessman to give up his car and his laptop, or a teenager to give up snapchat. And there was an even bigger problem. Among the gods was Augustus, predecessor to emperor Tiberius. The emperor was revered as the son of god, and effectively worshipped as a god in his own right. Jesus was being put in the divine place of the emperor - a very dangerous thing to own up to in public. This new Jewish God, and his son Jesus were claiming to be senior to the gods of Rome. Jesus himself had established that he was senior to the emperor when he was asked in the temple about taxes. Give to the emperor what is the emperors, he had said, and to God what is Gods. If we believe that God really is the creator of all, then what is Gods includes what is the emperors! The emperor himself, as a human being, belongs to God, and anything paid to him is owed in turn to God. This message was dangerous in Jerusalem, and even more so in Greece. No wonder Paul needed to pray for the faithful people of Thessalonica. There was a lot of pressure not to follow Jesus.

The same is true for us. Following Jesus is hard. Our society does not support the way of faith, love and hope. Britain hasn't always been a Christian country, and sometimes it seems that the priorities of our culture more reflect its pagan roots than Christian ones. In the northern Kingdom of Bernicia, where Northumbria is now, the faith was first proclaimed by an Irish monk from the Iona monastery called Aidan. The King, Oswald, made Aidan bishop and abbot of Lindisfarne - the founder of a new monastery there. Aidan, like Paul had in Greece, travelled and proclaimed a controversial message: one God, whose son died to bring us hope and eternal life. Aidan founded churches. He freed Anglo-Saxon slave boys and educated them for the church. He taught ordinary people how to pray, fast, and meditate on the scriptures. St Bede tells us that he was respected for his love of prayer, study, peace, purity and humility, and for his care for the sick and the poor. On one famous occasion, Aidan was riding home on a horse given to him by King Oswin of Deira, when he met a poor man - and gave the man his horse. To imagine what a gift that was, compare it to this: if you had a really lovely car, an expensive 4x4, say, would you be willing to hand over the keys to a poor person you saw at the side of the road? It would be the equivalent action. Aidan lived without riches (apart from his brief horse ownership), though he could easily have had them, because he wanted to live the way of Jesus. It wasn't the way society did things then, and it isn't now. Praying, living in faith, loving God and neighbour, persevering in patient hope, these qualities go against those of our power hungry, wealth dependant society.

My prayer today for our Aidan, and for everyone in Living Brook remains the same: that you will be strong in faith in God our Father, and his Son Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit; that your love for God and for each other will grow and be a sign to others of the truth of the gospel; and that you will always persevere in patient hope, no matter what opposition you have to face.