God in the Garden 2. Hidden Problems

It even surprises me.

When we filmed the Easter Morning pandemic recording in the garden there was the awkwardness of a derelict pond motor cupboard, used by a previous resident to create a flowing water feature.  It is clearly many years into its decay.

'Why,' I wondered, 'have I never fixed it?'   

I ventured my best explanation - that in the summer it was hidden, because in truth I could hardly remember thinking about it in days in the garden over the years.

And so it proved to be.  I simply hadn't realised how totally the greenery in the pond left the old cupboard out of sight and out of mind.  Here it is in the summer:

That is why it is never fixed!

As we thought about at Easter, the reason for the coming and sacrifice of Jesus is because sin is never hidden from Him - it required action.  The reason why humankind can be equivocal about, blase towards or disinterested in the great salvation Jesus achieved is because we simply cover up our sinfulness to ourselves and among ourselves.  It doesn't need fixing, so we don't need Jesus.

This strategy fails to take account of the end of the story - where what God sees is the basis of our eternal accountability.

Sabbatical Picture No 10 Lindisfarne Priory

Few ruins have been more celebrated, photographed or visited than those of Lindisfarne Priory on Holy Island, Northumbria.  Nor is this a recent phenomenon.  Before photography, great painters came to the island or the coast nearby to paint these evocative ruins.  

But why are they ruins?

Way back in the time of the Viking raids the then monastery was indeed ransacked and much blood spilled.  But these ruins do not belong to those days.  Their glory owes a great deal to the wonderful story of St Cuthbert, the Celtic hermit and missionary bishop (yes, he was both) who is most prominently honoured in Durham Cathedral but whose true 'home' was this and nearby islands and islets.  So Cuthbert, who is still popular, brought their glory - from whence ruination?

They were not ruined, as many monasteries were, by the actions of Henry VIII, the Dissolution. Henry was rather keen on them as a defence against the Scots.  Rather, they seem to have been gently worn away by a lack of enthusiasm to be based at this remote outpost, and eventually the failing buildings were cannibalised by the island's village for stones to build houses.

Speaking to a London minister this very week, he observed that his church was characterised not by division or unsound doctrine but by apathy.  For all their photogenic beauty these ruins are, in fact, a testimony to loss of interest.  On which basis no church is entirely safe.