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.

Induction

So many people kindly travelled to my Induction today.  Many, many thanks to them and those kind enough to write their greetings and promise their prayers.  Here's the statement I read:

 

My calling to Christian ministry in its dedicated full-time form came when I was working for NatWest Bank.  I was at the Keswick Convention in the Lake District, a large annual gathering of people seeking to know God better.  Following that clear sense of call the first role I enquired about was in administration for a medical facility in Bangladesh.  I was told it would be a good idea to go to a Christian training college first. 

So I left my home in North London and went to BTI in Glasgow, the furthest I’d ever travelled up to then! I wondered what far-flung place or places in the world my commitment to follow Jesus might take me.  I wonder where then I’d have guessed I’d be called to in 2014?  To what obscure desert, mountain range, city ghetto or jungle valley?

What I wouldn’t have expected was to be just 2¾ miles away from my then home in Finchley and be here in Muswell Hill.  Not only that, but I have been called to Pastor a Church that I occasionally attended when I lived up the road.  In the event, I used to travel twice as far as this from Finchley commuting each day to work in Central London.  It is, I suppose, a reminder that the adventure of Christian service is not to see the world but to change the part of it the Lord calls us to serve in. 

When the opportunity arose to explore a call to this Church I was excited by the opportunity to work for God in our capital city.  Through our multi-national congregation and the church’s long history of support for missions we will yet touch many parts of the earth in the years ahead even though we don’t visit them.

At the same time our Church offers the privilege of ministry in a real local community.  In our years of local church ministry Diane and I have enjoyed immersing ourselves in genuine community.  We have felt very kindly welcomed to Muswell Hill and we look forward to doing good here in the name of Jesus Christ bringing comfort and challenge in the Good News of the Gospel.

I am especially grateful to be called to Pastor a Church which was founded, to quote its original Trust, holding ‘the Deity of the Lord Jesus Christ and the Sole Authority of the Holy Scriptures and that interpretation of them usually called Evangelical’.  These are the roots from which, by the grace of God, we will seek to bear fruit in this community for his glory.   

Together as Pastor and people we do not appear to amount to very much in a great city.  But as Pastor and people with the Spirit of God and the Word of God and the Love of God I believe that in the unfolding years we will make a real difference.

"Pardon?"

The telephone is a boon to people who are deaf, I've been told.  I know friends who find a voice on the telephone easier to hear than one in real life.  But there comes a point where this is no longer true because the deafness is profound.  I had to give on on such a call this past week and it brought to mind one of the most difficult pastoral conversations I have ever had.

Few if anyone who reads this blog would ever have met the lady but I'll call her Mary.  Mary lived on her own but had a son David living locally who never came to our Church.  I had never seen her there either but I had met her in hospital and her husband when he'd been alive so had kept, so to speak, in touch.  She had another son, John, in South Africa.  And that's where the call headed:

"Hello, Mary"

"Hello.  Hello, who's that? Is that you, John?"

"It's John Roberts from the Church"

"How are things with you, then?  I hope everyone's well"

"Yes, thank you.  But how are you?"

"Yes, the leaves are falling here.  What's the weather like there?"

"IT'S JOHN FROM THE CHURCH, MARY"

"It's getting colder now too.  The night's are drawing in.  I expect it's warm there already, is it?"

"I'M JOHN ROBERTS FROM THE CHURCH, MARY, I'M RINGING TO SEE HOW YOU ARE."

"Yes, it will soon be winter now.  The leaves are beginning to fall, you know.  How is everyone anyway?"

(Giving up) "We're fine, thank you"

"David's very good, you know.  He does all that needs doing" (Oh dear.  Was that a pointed comment?  I didn't know.  I didn't like being a surrogate telephone son).

The phone call eventually ended - though that wasn't easy to achieve given that I was cast in the role of ringing from South Africa to check on my mother.  I hoped that John's wife and family were indeed alright as I had answered for them! 

And I realised what my prayer times must seem like from heaven's perspective.

Trust. But then again . . . .

I enjoyed this classic good-bye letter from a Baptist Pastor.  You'll miss the irony unless you read to the bitter end, where I've added a picture to help . . .

Well, it is time to say goodbye. Twenty-one months ago I changed from being an outside consultant to your interim pastor. The different role has been good for me and for the congregation. 

There is a quality of relationship between pastor and people that is like no other.  It is one of affection, trust, shared spirituality, common faith, and mutual work and service. It takes time to cultivate and a lifetime to enjoy. . . 
 

You will read this after my last Sunday has passed and our formal goodbyes have been said. I will have returned the shepherd’s staff and the keys of the congregation. They will be waiting for a short time to be received by the pastor who comes after me. May you welcome him with grace and warmth. . . . 

Faithfully,
David

NOTE: Please return any books you have borrowed from me.
 

Faithfully,

Sides

Today I was on holiday.

It being Jesus' resurrection day and professing to follow him, I went to church.

One of the churches I went to was populated mostly by people from Africa. I had not been to this church for perhaps 20 years, and then the congregation was almost entirely British, bigger and more boring.

But why would I go to church on a holiday week?  My daughter put in a word of discouragement -"You don't need to go to church, Dad.  You're a Pastor."

A totally deaf and dumb man was asked why he attended church.  Taking his notebook he wrote,

To show which side I'm on  

Revelation Song

Kari Jobe's song is the worship song of the moment so I thought it ought to reach my blog.

Having lived the Texas life in the past I had a smile when I found out that Kari's church has a Senior Pastor. And it has an Executive Senior Pastor. And it has several Associate Senior Pastors. Goodness knows how far down the chain a mere 'Pastor' is!