In Circles

There is on ancient Celtic poem which reads;

He drew a ring which shut me out

Heretic, rebel, things to flout.

But Love and I had wit to win.

We drew a circle that took him in.

I might be misinterpreting the signs of the times here, but I think that as we move further into the 21st Century and the Information Age we are developing a new taste for drawing circles that shut people out.  It is true that in this country at present we cannot publicly lynch people but we can rapidly turn people into Public Enemy Number One.

That's been difficult in the past week with Jimmy Savile and Jihadi John who cannot both have top/bottom spot at once.  The one being dead and the other distant attention has turned to anybody who may have been in their 'circle'.  So cameras are camped outside a random kind of house in London where Jihadi John once lived and Stoke Mandeville Hospital as if to capture the entrails of guilt that might not have been gathered up with their departure.

To understand Jesus we have to understand that he became as despised and rejected as this.  The circle was drawn with him outside, and by the super-righteous authorities and, eventually, the democratic shout of the crowd.  It is not comfortable.

Yet what is more amazing is the way that God draws circles.  Without any touch of irony or hypocrisy God could comfortably and justifiably draw a circle of holiness that leaves not just Mr Savile and JJ outside but their fellow-humans one and all too.  Heaven had never had a human in it, let alone a former sinful being, and had been rocking along fine.

The story of Easter is that He drew a Circle of Love that included humans - sinful ones - in.

Pliable or Obstinate

Lent is a time for self-examination.

Sunday morning we had read to us in Church the story of Pliable and Obstinate talking with Christian in Pilgrim's Progress.

There is no question about it.  When it came to following Christ as I grew up I was obstinate.  Or at least I thought that was true - until, well, I thought about it.  Even listening on Sunday morning it occurred to me that although these characters are allegedly opposites they are (and Bunyan cleverly makes this point) two parts of the same. They are always on the road together.

Obstinate and Pliable in pursuit

The reason I was obstinate and not willing at all to be baptised - to be a committed follower of Jesus - was because I wished to remain pliable.  That is, I wanted my options open, not my Self crucified to rise in new life from Someone else.

On further reflection I thought of the groups of young people in my home church who would return from camp or conference to be baptised in flocks while I watched obstinately.  Some are still my Christian friends, plenty fell away almost, as it were, before their towel was dry.  They were pliable.  Yet in meeting them occasionally - or hearing of them via their families - it turns out that they are now obstinate!

Broadly speaking the most obstinate people spiritually were previously pliable.  And any Evangelist will tell you that there is no more obstinate pairs of ears than the ones either side of a mouth that has said, "No, I've changed my mind about being a Christian".  Or as the writer to the Hebrews scarily and clearly puts it:
 It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit,  who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age  and who have fallen away, to be brought back to repentance. To their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace.  Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God.  But land that produces thorns and thistles is worthless and is in danger of being cursed. In the end it will be burned.

Commuting

On average (allegedly) a person spends one year's-worth of life commuting.  I think that means in the UK.  It must be seriously skewed by the poor souls using the M25.

 

Someone remarked to me a few days ago,

"I suppose one of the best things about your job is that you don't have to travel to work"

 

 

I'm not convinced about that though.

It is true that it is only fifteen minutes walk from house to church (last church 10 minutes, one before that 5 minutes so it's getting longer . . .). 

 

It is also true that technically my home is my place of work - though if I spent the month there without leaving it is hard to imagine getting approval from the Church members.

 

A local pastor toddles to and from the local hospital(s) and places in the local community and people's living rooms nearby.  By apparent contrast, Hudson Taylor, the great missionary pioneer of Christian faith in China, travelled for the equivalent of 4 years of his life on a boat.  John Wesley racked up an average of 4000 miles a year.

 

Perhaps it is more profound than that.

 

On Sunday morning we read a little of Pilgrim's Progress.  Bunyan's contention is that life is one long commute.  What sets a pastor apart - even from the itinerant missionaries and evangelists - is that a pastor travels not only his own commute but the commute of hundreds of others.

 

No wonder it never feels as though life is standing still.

Needled

For those of us not disposed to being punctured by the medical profession the headlines that this year's flu vaccination is largely useless comes as a great relief.  We can forever say, "Well I don't think getting that is really worthwhile.  For example, in 2014/15 . . . ."

This may not be wise of course.

One of our main hospitals in North London has a building, formerly a smallpox and vaccination hospital, called the Jenner Building.  I often enter the hospital I visit most by the Jenner entrance/exit.

As a passing point of observation it doesn't have a Phipps Building.

The Jenner Building is so called in honour of Edward Jenner whose observational medical brilliance uncovered the way mild cowpox protected milkmaids from the far more serious smallpox.

This all brings me to James Phipps. Most of us will never have heard of him but the possibility is that, humanly speaking, we owe him our life. At the turn of the nineteenth century James, from a small Gloucestershire town, allowed a Doctor Edward Jenner to give him a disease (cowpox [vaccinia]) followed six weeks later by the deadly disease smallpox. Jenner's place in history was assured when, as he'd suspected, vaccination ('cowpoxination' never caught on!) prevented young James getting smallpox. A medical breakthrough was confirmed that still shapes much medicine today.

How often in history have ordinary people been the true glory of greater people?  It seems somewhat unfair really.  Yet it lies very close to the heart of Christian faith as John the Baptist famously introduced his Lord: I am not the Christ but I have been sent before him.  He who has the bride is the bridegroom; but the friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly because of the bridegroom's voice. This, my joy, therefore is made full.  He must increase, but I must decrease.

Even the absence of a Phipps Entrance tells me something I need to remember.