Christianity from the 43 bus: 11. John's House

Continuing a journey through London on the 43 bus route - with a Christian eye.  The whole series is viewable on the '43 bus route' tag below.

Across the insanity that is Old Street roundabout, the 43 bus passes the house of John Wesley.  Not of course the only place he lived in his 87 years, but one he built for himself in the grounds of his London Chapel and his home for his final decade or so.

It is the house where he died after an astonishing ministry that echoes across the world still today in the form of Methodism.  In his bedroom here - you can visit it still - he said his final words, "The best of all is, God is with us."

No matter how much we do, the Christian's greatest joy is whose we are.

The Temple of the Heart

Just round the corner near a Cornish fishing harbour is this sign.  It records that John Wesley stayed here and that the Methodists met here.  Too easily we institutionalise the way of Christ but, just as in the Holy Land, the true foundations of Christian faith are no longer present for they were the hearts that were changed, so here is a reminder that although the Church quickly becomes mistaken for buildings, publishing labels and international conferencing it is largely based in people's hearts, and therefore their homes.

Hearing

Not too much attention is given by Christians to the meaning of hearing.

Even as I write that, I realise I must immediately disown all reference to Church microphones and induction loops that plague the peaceableness of every congregation's relationships.  (It seems clear to me why angels in heaven use trumpets and God a very loud voice life the sound of many waters - nowhere could be free of sin that had electronic sound reproduction!).

The hearing I refer to is that with which the Lord Jesus ends many parables -  he that hath ears to hear let him hear.  Lest we take that turn of phrase to mean that everyone will hear Jesus also indicates rather the opposite, quoting the old prophet - ears have they but they hear not.

Serving God in a vast city where, nonetheless, many do not hear I have been thinking about this.  Clearly we who know Christ have to be out there and the past year has seen our church do that on many occasions (but nowhere near as many as the Jehovah's Witnesses locally, let's admit).  There is a telling to be done.

But there is also hearing.  

The picture above is a quotation from John Wesley.  It stands by one of his great outdoor theatres of preaching where thousands heard.  We envy him.  Then we beat ourselves up for falling so far short.  But we might miss what he says - to declare unto all that are willing to hear.  Wesley was a great evangelist partly because he had a great hearing audience.  A Christian in Saudi Arabia or North Korea has very few hearers (except perhaps by media).  A Christian in parts of Africa or South America may quickly amass many.  Jesus did both, with Galilean audiences of thousands and disgruntled Jerusalem Temple or Nazareth sceptics who wouldn't accept a word he said.  Hence his point.

The willingness to hear is not the work so much of the evangelist as the community.  Or more properly of the Holy Spirit who graciously unplugs ears sometimes.

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.

Methodist Heaven

It's a very nice balcony.

And a very nice cup of tea at a modest price.

Not at all in keeping with the prime spot overlooking the prime square of a Cornish tourist honey-pot fishing village on a brilliant summer's day.

 

The modest price is explained by the setting as the balcony of a Church.  The Church in fact.  But this is not a St Jibble's or St Jessica's but just a plain old Methodist Chapel.  The question is, why in Merrie Olde Englande was there a fishing village which the state church ignored yet where the Methodists took root?

The answer is on the plaque beside a tiny fisherman's cottage . . .

 

Paul Flowers

For a host of reasons I am reluctant to comment on the evident and alleged sins of others, especially when the media is busy at it.  In the case of Paul Flowers my policy serves me especially well as with each succeeding day I am increasingly bereft of anything to write that adequately expresses my amazement.  Less a case of not casting the first stone; more of being too gobsmacked to think of even looking for one to pick up.

 

 

In this context I was in a service this week where we sang the following words.  They are a translation from the French (well, if you look closely one key word is not translated) by John Wesley.  With his brother's prodigious hymn output it is slightly surprising that he tapped into a European mystic's hymn except that Antoinette Bourignon's words exactly describe the desires for consecrated holiness for which Methodism was born.  It's a long way back from here.  But God is gracious . . .

 

While in this region here below,
No other good will I pursue;
I'll bid this world of noise and show,
With all its glittering snares, adieu!

 

That path, with humble speed, I'll seek,
In which my Saviour's footsteps shine;
Nor will I hear, nor will I speak,
Of any other love but thine.

 

Henceforth may no profane delight
Divide this consecrated soul;
Possess it thou, who hast the right,
As Lord and Master of the whole.

 

Wealth, honour, pleasure, and what else
This short-enduring world can give,
Tempt as ye will, my soul repels,
To Christ alone resolved to live.