Christianity from the 43 bus: 12. Bunhill Fields

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.

If you've followed through this blog series you will be starting to understand how many amazing Christian stories litter the 43 bus route.  But one place, opposite John Wesley's house, has so many stories that a long blog series would be needed to tell them.  That place is Bunhill Fields.

For people like me, at least, it contains so many figures whose writings I have come across - but most notably perhaps Isaac Watts (so many hymns), Daniel Defoe (As in Robinson Crusoe etc.) and William Blake (Author of the hymn Jerusalem).  The Wesleys mother Susannah is buried here as well as other worthies like the three Johns: John Owen, John Rippon and John Gill.  The reason for this galaxy of non-conformist names is that this was a convenient burial place just outside the City of London available to non-Anglicans for burial.

The grave that catches the eye - mainly because of its prominent position - is that of John Bunyan.

For someone who spent so much of his life in Bedford gaol - which we have to thank for his unequalled Pilgrim's Progress - this seems an unlikely place to be buried.  A preacher of such brave heroism I felt sure I would discover an amazing story, matching his writings, of how his death came about in London.  Perhaps if I were wiser I would have considered that there is probably a reason why I have never heard a story about Bunyan's actual death.

Anyhow, here it is.  He rode his horse from Reading to London in very heavy (August) rain.  He got soaked.  He fell ill at his friends house as a result.  His cold turned to a fever.  He died.  In summary, he was killed by the British Summer . . .

Storm Ciara

It was a very wet and windy Sunday.

I'm not a huge fan of the over-safety culture in which we live, but nonetheless I tweeted a warning for people to think twice about the safety of travelling to our morning service.  Probably more related to common sense than my tweeting, several people hunkered down and stayed indoors.

Then, later on I discovered that the Queen had also stayed at home instead of her usual visit to the Church in Sandringham.  I don't expect she'd read my tweet, but for a 93 year old it seemed very wise too.

I reflected on this a bit.

Here's Psalm 104:

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord my God, You are very great:
You are clothed with honor and majesty,
2 Who cover Yourself with light as with a garment,
Who stretch out the heavens like a curtain.

3 He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters,
Who makes the clouds His chariot,
Who walks on the wings of the wind,
4 Who makes His angels spirits,
His ministers a flame of fire.

Unshockingly the monarch of Great Britain can be held back by the wind.

But the King of kings can, as it were, walk all over it.

Holiday Pics - No 6 Contentment

The weather was good apart from one day.  That's the kind of thing we all say about a British vacation (except the one may be up to seven!).  Cornwall, once a poor faraway mining and fishing area, is now quite a slick kind of place and it doesn't take an expert to work out that much of the money in Cornwall has been gained elsewhere and brought here as to nature's playground for some fun in old age or earlier.

I wonder whether this makes for more contented people though?  Or were the miners that crowded the Methodist chapels to sing their praise to God as happy in their limited expanses as the people popping down in the Porsche to the Michelin starred seafood restaurant?  I cannot say.

I know this cow was content though.  Just some grass will do.  I think I'll try and learn a lesson from the cow.

Heat

There must be many places to be on a 95 degree day, but London certainly isn't one of them. 

 

I feel strangely satisfied sitting in my study before doing an afternoon visit.  I've just been on the phone to someone who, it turned out, was answering their phone from Hampton Court Garden Show.  Far from feeling jealous I felt sorry for my friend.

 

The atmosphere changes everything, doesn't it?  Ordinary places become extraordinary on an unusual weather day.  I find myself paying attention to shaded streets so I can walk comfortably, minimising my time outside, closing my curtains.

 

A song that is a few steps past my current church's style but which I love is the only one I know with the word atmosphere in.  It's a reminder that although we have meetings that try to change things, the only really big change comes when God turns up the heat.  Then nothing is the same.