Days to Remember: 9. The danger of parking outside the Church (Part 2)

The relatively unusual experience of a minister is to travel in a hearse while fully conscious (before the later single trip more universally undertaken).  Nobody who has spent any time in local church ministry is short of funeral stories, though public blogging is not the most pastorally sensitive way to disseminate them.  I will stick with just one from my time in Wycombe.  It's about that busy street outside the church where, on the snowy night previously reported, people nearly died. 

 

The service was over.   It is a few hundred yards to the town cemetery and the easiest way as minister is to take the hearse there and walk back.  I sat in the rear seat, my head adjacent to that of the deceased.  

 

She'd had just a tenuous connection with our premises through another church. As best I recall, apart from the family and friends only our church funeral functionaries (me included) had been present.  The funeral directors, unusually, were from out of county.

 

 

'Nice cars these hearses,' I often thought, 'shame about the function.'  In went the ignition key.  A kind of electronic whirring but nothing resembling an engine sound.  And again.  And again.  I thought, 'This is going to be interesting.  I wonder what they do when the hearse won't start?'  Unfortunately it turned out that the driver was also thinking, 'I wonder what I do when the hearse won't start?'   The Funeral Director was pulled away from the family gathered by the other funeral car to be told the news.  He then seemed to think, 'I wonder what you do when the hearse won't start?'

 

It became clear that in their home town they would have had a spare car as a rule.  They were not in their home county, never mind town.  They started ringing local funeral firms with whom they were connected.  These helpful funeral firms were being helpful by helping other people have their funerals.  There is a limit to the number of available hearses of course.  Hope dwindled. 

 

A few minutes later and a phone call came in.  One of the local companies had a spare hearse in a town a few miles away.  We sat, we waited, with reasonable dignity the transfer was eventually made.

 

I figured that the person (perhaps not quite the right word) for whom this was the least traumatic was the one whose head silently reclined a few inches from mine in her coffin.  RIP meant Rest in Peace for her, and Ring in Panic for everyone else.

Days to Remember: 8. The danger of parking outside the Church (Part 1)

Union Baptist Church is situated on the A404.  There are clues there.  At one end the A404 is Regent Street in Central London.  It is not a quiet road (though long years ago the cows walked along it to the common land east of the town, hence Easton Street.

 

No-one ever knows what the future holds but I am confident that at no time in the years leading up to that winter's night did anyone imagine that people would have to be encouraged to leave the cars they had abandoned on the street outside and come into the warmth of the church for their own safety.  It happened in 2009.

And so it was that we were asked to open our Church as an Emergency Rest Centre for people stranded by the snowy roads and icy hills. Roads normally busy with traffic had only pedestrians struggling between cars and vans abandoned at the roadside.  Read about it here.

Through to 2:00 am people arrived.  Some walked in as though they were arriving for a meeting, some arrived as though they had trekked from the Arctic, one or two looked as though they had been mistakenly delivered by emergency ambulance to us instead of the hospital.

Thirty five people slept for the night at 'Hotel Union'!  About 20 others came through the doors and were fortified and warmed for the next stage of their epic journey home.  Never has the town or Church witnessed the need to be a Town Centre Snow Shelter before!

God, on the other hand, seemed less surprised and to be working to a nicely visible plan (his plans are often invisible of course).

Days to Remember: 1. All Saints (and sinners)

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.

 

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.

My Favourite Christmas Carols - No 1

This has been my favourite carol for as long as I can remember, so it took no decision to choose it here.  I imagine I first liked it because of its opening imagery as I have always loved deep midwinter.  Other carols throw in the snow but this carol feels it. 

Then came my right-theology phase when every carol evoking snow was to be dismissed as nonsense - probably, as in this case, Victorian nonsense.  It was then that I realised that the poetry here is different - winter is not so much the pretty Christmas card type, it is the hard-as-iron type.  Snow is cold and therefore strangely dark. It therefore may be meteorologically inaccurate but it tells an accurate story in the same way that the Apostle describes Jesus being the Light born into the darkness.  Here he is hope being born into the dead winter death of the earth.

 

Later, in a verse almost invariably omitted (one suspects because of the shock factor of a breastful of milk - the truth is too much for us perhaps?), even the mythical ox, ass and camel are used primarily as a poetic device to highlight the awesome truth of the incarnation.

 

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,
But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the Beloved
With a kiss.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

 

Like nearly all great carols it draws the starkest contrast between the proper setting of the Son of God and his incarnate setting with us lot; the exchange of heaven's glory for a maiden mother's kiss.  And it ends by giving us the opportunity, which every Christmas offers, to voice that we will give the one present that such a Saviour deserves.  This simple version by the late Dan Fogelberg captures the poem quite beautifully I think:

 

 

Presumably its author Christina Rosetti never heard it sung for it was written as a poem.  She spent time away from her Highgate home in the country at Holmer Green, just up the road from Wycombe, and maybe it was there that she saw the snow and hard-as-iron winter landscape?  Anyway it is a nice thought that my favourite carol has some connection to the place I now live.

 

Have a Happy Christmas with your favourite Christmas carol, whatever it is!

Namebearing

This week I'm off to a Sports Chaplaincy Conference.  It has come at a very difficult time . . .

Now even a cursory knowledge of Sports Chaplaincy would surmise that its conversations and pastoral care are exercised without regard to the position or performance of the Club in question.  There might be nuances but whether the chaplain to Lancashire Cricket Club or Gloucester Rugby or Wycombe Wanderers Football Club or Manchester United - the essence in each case is surely the same and equally worthy?

After all, we all know that the Lay Pastor of the chapel with 12 members (the same as the number of the apostles) is to be as honoured as the Senior Executive Supreme Leader Pastor of Multiple Campus Mega Church of London, Paris, Sydney and Los Angeles.  (Though we really only want to check out the website of the latter actually.  And ask him (it would never be her) to write books.  He speaks at World Prayer Events too).  But that's not to honour him above the Lay Pastor of course (or Jesus).  Anyway . .

 

The thing is, Wycombe Wanderers aren't doing very well.  Is the Chaplain responsible?  In my defence they have managed an unlikely Cup Semi-Final and promotion on my watch.  No, of course I'm not responsible.  But there is this strange association thingy.  When I go with other slightly chuffed chaplains whose Clubs are doing things like winning games and scoring I sense a pastoral pity descending upon me.  As though I needed to be chaplained!  This has happened in the League above but now, as the team in the second-worst position in mainline English football I feel the enveloping pastoral sympathy from 48 hours away.

Never mind that we had a great Harvest Celebration today, that I spoke to people about faith last week, welcomed in new members to our Church, visited a young family moving closer to God, had a great Elders Meeting, even had a great day of conversations at the said Football Club.  All these pastoral joys are submerged at the Chaplains Conference as I wear the badge.  It says REV JOHN ROBERTS.  And then.  WYCOMBE WANDERERS.  You can see it in their pastoral eyes.  "Poor old John".  "You're having a hard time, aren't you?".  "What's gone wrong?"  The sympathy is so strong - it hurts!

When heaven looked at the Word made flesh - what was his name? Yeshua of Nazareth - it must have been hard not to feel an overwhelming sympathy that he should have taken upon himself such a name.  The good news is, he took the name and led its humanity to salvation.

The bad news is - I don't think I'm going to be able to repeat that for the name I bear!

Unqualified

A few weeks ago I met some of the Moldovan Olympic Swimming Team.  They were practising in our town Leisure Centre in preparation for the Olympics.  Of course when I say I met them what I mean is that one day as I left the changing room some of them were arriving to head to their special area to change and we nodded a hello to one another.  Still, maybe it will be THAT girl who wins the Gold medal!  I tried to remember their faces.  Certainly watching them some days ploughing up and down the pool was a reminder that it takes an ability and dedication far in excess of my swimming prowess to compete on such a stage.

Having felt that sense of distance, I can now report that (as things turned out) I had a lot more in common with the two young ladies I nodded at than I first supposed.  To my way of thinking there on the other side of the pool were the Olympic competitors and over with me and the assortment of splashers from Wycombe District were those who would watch them on television.  I was wrong in this interpretation.

This week they were back.  Well, no, he was back.  For as it turns out only one 17 year old guy Danila achieved the standard to qualify and all the other Moldovan swimmers will, like the rest of us, be watching him and the other competitors on television!

Many people interpret the divide between those religious people furiously practising their divine devotion and their own futile spiritual splashings as the one that is likely to one day see them disqualified from the prize (if there is one).  Most of the religious people think this with a passion too.

It does appear, though, that only one human being qualifies.  It is in Jesus's victory that we have our only hope of sharing in final glory - it is in him, not as well as him, that we can qualify.

Sunlight

We had an amazing Pentecost morning at church in the sunshine.

One amazing thing (given that this is England) was the sunshine of course.  But also that we were in it, not passing through it on our way to church.  For we were outdoors.

Another amazing thing was the size of the congregation - many times the usual size.  This was because church this once had no label save the name of the town and the verb Love.

Love Wycombe was a momentary release from the silly institutional complexity that passes for the church of Jesus Christ two thousand years on.

Surely none of us who were there - especially in church leadership -  were foolish enough to think that dozens of churches giving up their morning worship to be in one place at one time is the way church is going to be any time soon.

Surely none of us who were there were foolish enough not to think that this is the future when the Head of the Church makes us finally and fully his own.

Help

30 . . . Jesus said, “A man was going down the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. Some robbers surrounded him, tore off his clothes, and beat him. Then they left him lying there on the ground almost dead.

There was, last week, a man sitting on the pathway outside our church buildings . . .

31 “It happened that a Jewish priest was going down that road.

He was hypothermic and had drunk too much and it was below freezing and all he wanted was to die and his wish looked like coming true.  We called an ambulance.

When he saw the man, he did not stop to help him.

The ambulanceman talked to him for a while.  Because the man didn't 'consent' to come(though in fact he could not have moved if he did) . . .

He walked away.

He walked away and called a police officer.

32 Next, a Levite came near.

The police officer turned up in a big van.

He saw the hurt man, but he went around him. He would not stop to help him either. He just walked away.

She walked around and spoke on her radio.  Because 'the man didn't consent' she drove away too.

 

33 “Then a Samaritan man travelled down that road. He came to the place where the hurt man was lying. He saw the man and felt very sorry for him.

But the volunteer workers in our Church Drop-In centre felt sorry for the man.

34 The Samaritan went to him and poured olive oil and wine on his wounds. Then he covered the man’s wounds with cloth.

Whether he consented or not they ushered him into the hallway of the church and put a blanket over him.

The Samaritan had a donkey. He put the hurt man on his donkey,

They called the man at Wycombe Homeless Connection, a Christian Charity run by our group of churches.  He came and sat with the man.  And talked with the man.

and he took him to an inn. There he cared for him. 35 The next day, the Samaritan took out two silver coins and gave them to the man who worked at the inn. He said, ‘Take care of this hurt man. If you spend more money on him, I will pay it back to you when I come again.’”
And persuaded the man to go with him until he could enter the Night Shelter that evening (run by volunteers from the churches)

36 Then Jesus said, “Which one of these three do you think was really a neighbour to the man who was hurt by the robbers?” 37 The teacher of the law answered, “The one who helped him.” Jesus said, “Then you go and do the same.”

And thankfully for the man in 21st century Wycombe - his followers still do.

Going, going . . .

Today I walked through Wycombe past the Salvation Army 'Church' (as it is slightly incongruously called these days) building. Then . . .

. . . then comes Black's, an outdoor clothing shop that has a sister branch in town.  It only had its staff in - no customers.  Its owner is now in administration.  Past a glass door to upstairs offices and next comes a boarded up shopfront that appears to have been long unoccupied.

After this is the remains (you have to look hard to see this) of a Box Clever shopfront which was also a furniture outlet for a short interim time. 

Then comes the Alexon Clothing shop - its closing down sale in full swing.

Next a large Toy Shop lies empty.  It has moved to another shopping centre.

You could buy a Subway sandwich next or a Kebab next door to that and then there is a bereft-looking charity shop where some other retailer had previously been.  Next to the Charity Shop is the former Officers Club shop.  Closed of course.

Then comes the old Burger King restaurant.  But that's closed.

Next to the old BK is a large shop that is so closed as to be untraceable as to its former owners though it now has pictures of local trees in.

First Choice is next.  That was a travel agent, though not any more.  Even though it belonged to the more successful of the UK's two main travel groups it has closed.

I suppose it's good news if the Salvation Army has any wish to expand into shopfronts . . .

Hope

Today marks the beginning of a new football season.

As chaplain to Wycombe Wanderers Football Club I have stood in the sunshine (they were running of course) on the first day back in training over a month ago. This week - a month of training and friendly matches later - everyone is geared up for the new season and full of hope.

Of the 24 teams in our league I have not seen anyone at or around the Club who thinks we can possibly end up lower than 5th.  I think we'll do better than that.

There's just a little problem.

Every one of the 46 league games will involve . . . an opposition!  Not once in those 46 games will the eleven other guys say, "Hey, we thought you'd come fifth or higher.  We'll let you win to help you."  All our hope is based on ourselves, and we haven't seen the opposition - not one of them - yet.  In this way, thousands of football fans start every season full of hope that quite quickly fades away.  Watch this space!

But back in the real world of the Bible there is a hope that cannot fade:

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay.

Simply put, the believer's hope is based on a defeated opposition, not a waiting opposition.  Jesus is risen.  Death and sin are defeated.  This is a hope that cannot be ambushed by the Other Side! 

A Night Before Christmas

Wycombe was not a great place to be last night, especially if you were a motorist.  It started snowing soon after 2:00pm and was still snowing heavily four hours later.

And so it was that we were asked to open our Church as an Emergency Rest Centre for people stranded by the snowy roads and icy hills. Roads normally busy with traffic had only pedestrians struggling between cars and vans abandoned at the roadside.  Read about it here.

Through to 2:00 am people arrived.  Some walked in as though they were arriving for a meeting, some arrived as though they had trekked from the Arctic, one or two looked as though they had been mistakenly delivered by emergency ambulance to us instead of the hospital.

Thirty five people slept for the night at 'Hotel Union'!  About 20 others came through the doors and were fortified and warmed for the next stage of their epic journey home.  Never has the town or Church witnessed the need to be a Town Centre Snow Shelter before!

God, on the other hand, seemed less surprised and to be working to a nicely visible plan (his plans are often invisible of course).

My colleague Pastor Tim has just recently taken on a role as Police Chaplain, and this gave us goodwill and communication from the outset.

Our Church Administrator has been a Hotel Manager and so Calvin might be described as the perfect Staff Member in the circumstances!  He's also a great cook, so the motley collection of material available for Breakfast was transformed into good stuff on the plate.

Our Youth Worker Matt, shortly to depart for New Zealand, was still present, and able to give us confidence with the teens who arrived.  Two of them stayed overnight with us, away from their families.

One of our members, having been inspired to do Street Pastor work, responded immediately and came in to help at this opportunity.

When I was sliding down the hill to help, I heard the familiar voice of one of my Elders in the sea of darkly clad walkers struggling up the hill in the opposite direction.  When we met, he immediately joined me and ended up staying and working with us through the night (moral of story, beware of passing Pastors!)

As our premises host the Wycombe Winter Night Shelter  we had  a good supply of air beds and a magnificent supply of blankets and sheets.

We thank God for His planning, which appears to have greatly exceeded that of others.  He even planned it in his instructions to the first Christian Churches - Share with God's people who are in need. Practise hospitality.  And he'd said it previously to his ancient covenant people too - The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am Yahweh, your God. (Leviticus 19:33,34).