As I come to the end of 16 years in Wycombe I'm having a bout of nostalgia. This one happened this past week when for the last time I led a meeting in our Town Centre Civic Church, All Saints.
Although it turns out in the heady days of the Commonwealth Period the Church had 'an anabaptist minister', it is not (in 'normal' established times) common for Baptist Pastors to get (or perhaps wish for) much of a look in at Civic Churches. My appearances have been rare and unmemorable.
Except one.
Except one.
And even that one was probably only memorable to me.
It was the grandest of grand occasions: the Civic Service for the New Millennium. Enrobed in glorious majesty the civic dignitaries assembled to mark another thousand years passing (as you do - but not often). Enrobed in mixed and less glorious majesty the clergy entered the grand space, including me in a lounge suit as I don't do enrobed. I suppose I looked somewhat unimportant but that would be to mistake the task that had been handed to me in some preparatory meeting and which I was about to attempt to fulfil.
My task? It was to pray a Prayer of Repentence for the town looking back over the last Millennium.
There were good and bad aspects to this. A good aspect was that, like every previous and contemporary resident of the town I was (am) a sinner and repentence is therefore always appropriate. A further benefit came from the relative youth of the Baptists in this ocean of accumulated sinfulness. After all, 'we' had only been around for 15.5% of the thousand years which somehow made the burden seem lighter!
But whose sins was I praying about? Who did I represent anyway? As I sat staring across the choir from an uncomfortable seat which, even with 500 people present, still managed to feel very remote I moved to the conclusion that this was probably the most meaningless prayer I had ever, and would ever, attempt to pray.
It was well-crafted but I have no idea what I actually said. But then again, I doubt that Anyone in heaven has any idea either. I figured that the only suitable human being for representing advocacy in response to a town's thousand years of sins was already in heaven, interceding for us.
Maybe my attitude to all this is quite sinful. In the which case some distant clergyman may stand in the same spot in 3000 AD and encompass my poorly attitude in his/her plea regarding another thousand years of sins in Wycombe (or Starbase GBHW as it may then be called). I'm not banking on that though: I'll trust in Jesus instead.
It was the grandest of grand occasions: the Civic Service for the New Millennium. Enrobed in glorious majesty the civic dignitaries assembled to mark another thousand years passing (as you do - but not often). Enrobed in mixed and less glorious majesty the clergy entered the grand space, including me in a lounge suit as I don't do enrobed. I suppose I looked somewhat unimportant but that would be to mistake the task that had been handed to me in some preparatory meeting and which I was about to attempt to fulfil.
My task? It was to pray a Prayer of Repentence for the town looking back over the last Millennium.
There were good and bad aspects to this. A good aspect was that, like every previous and contemporary resident of the town I was (am) a sinner and repentence is therefore always appropriate. A further benefit came from the relative youth of the Baptists in this ocean of accumulated sinfulness. After all, 'we' had only been around for 15.5% of the thousand years which somehow made the burden seem lighter!
But whose sins was I praying about? Who did I represent anyway? As I sat staring across the choir from an uncomfortable seat which, even with 500 people present, still managed to feel very remote I moved to the conclusion that this was probably the most meaningless prayer I had ever, and would ever, attempt to pray.
It was well-crafted but I have no idea what I actually said. But then again, I doubt that Anyone in heaven has any idea either. I figured that the only suitable human being for representing advocacy in response to a town's thousand years of sins was already in heaven, interceding for us.
Maybe my attitude to all this is quite sinful. In the which case some distant clergyman may stand in the same spot in 3000 AD and encompass my poorly attitude in his/her plea regarding another thousand years of sins in Wycombe (or Starbase GBHW as it may then be called). I'm not banking on that though: I'll trust in Jesus instead.
