On Retreat

I'm on retreat somewhere in the depths of Yorkshire and it's been an interesting stay so far.  First of all, I have to go on this retreat 'cos that's what the denomination tell me I have  to do. Well, all the ministers got talking (as they do) about things in their churches.  The subject of reserved seats and 'my chair' phenomena came up.  There were stories of times long ago when seats were reserved for Mrs so and so or when Mr Thingamy kept losing his chair so he wrote his name on the bottom of it and up-ended anyone he found in it...  We wondered whether this was just a church thing or not.  We thought it probably was.  May I just add this story into the mix:
This morning, I woke up early and walked into town for an early morning coffee and a read of a (good) paper.  The young girl, still asleep I fear, opened the doors at 07.02am which is when I walked into her dream and woke her up by ordering a FlatWhite.  The coffee shop in question is really quite large and I chose to sit on the right hand side.  Nobody else was in the shop.  I sat down and began to read.  Two other people came in and sat directly behind me, squashing me into the table.  'Strange', I thought, 'there's a whole empty shop here  to sit in and they sit next to me'.  I subconsciously checked my wallet - yep, still there.  Anyway, I shuffled over a bit for more room, but was soon followed by the back of their seat, nestling between my shoulder blades.  Had I been a celebrity, I could have understood their desire to drink my coffee and sit on my lap but... well, as it was still early, I felt a call of nature and hoped the usually occupied toilet might be free for once: it was.  90 seconds later, I'm out and feeling like a new man only to find this couple sitting in my seat.  See, it's not just in churches that possessive seat hoarding takes place.

A New Year and a few changes

I hope this new year will be special for us all and that we expect to encounter God in a fresh, new way.  I'm not sure what this year will bring for me and the family but I am looking to see God anew and to see lives changed for the better because of God.
In the pages above the blog I will post my diary month by month (as best as I can) so that you can see where I hope to be over the month.  Ministers normally don't do this but I believe that I need to be more open and consequently, more vulnerable. My plan is to spend part of each week in each of our churches.  This is a departure for me as I like to respond to things as they happen and am not used to tying myself to any particular location or time so please bare with me as I make changes to my normal operation.
If you particularly want me to attend a meeting or event, then let me know.  I should already know about it, but there is always a chance it hasn't been noticed - so let me know.
I wanted to get round to visit people more than I have in December but the poor weather has stopped my plans here. Hopefully January will be kinder.
Take care and may we find the Trinity in all that we do.

Is there enough evidnece...? Part 2

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that I recently had a conversation with someone about mission and evangelism and that we were talking different languages.  To help me explain this difference I was reminded of a situation between a senior pastor and his three junior pastors (sorry it's an American story. When will we Brits come up with stories like this?).
The senior pastor of a number of large churches visited three of his junior pastors to make sure they were following the programme that had been set.  The agreement was that the churches would pursue a missional focus from now on.  The three junior pastors had been working hard to deconstruct their failing structures and to encourage the members to live lives as followers of Jesus and to share the Good News wherever they went.  This was no easy task and the congregation were finding great difficulty in accepting that it was their own responsibility to take Jesus out of the church not just the mission team's job.  The senior pastor was unimpressed and asked, '...but where are your programmes and projects?  All the other churches have projects happening.  Get some programmes happening or look for some other church to minister in!'.  This was an uncomfortable conversation because from all they had read, they believed they were turning around the tanker and (slowly) becoming missional.  Four months later the senior pastor called them in to his office.  The junior pastors were being obedient to a missional understanding and consequently they had no fancy project or programme.  Although people in the congregations were engaging with God more fully than before and starting 'works of God' in the work places of the non-churched it was not an official programme with budgets and rotas.  The three junior ministers were last seen clearing their desks.
Being missional is not and cannot be about programmes and big spends.  It's about sharing the encounters you have with the Father/Son/Holy Spirit and living out that relationship.  I felt sorry for the junior pastors.  If the senior pastor should ever read this blog, I would just like to point him to Alan Roxburgh's book, The Missional Leader.  In the introduction (p xv) he writes, 'Just as it's  [the church's] Lord is a mission-shaped God, so the community of God's people exists not for themselves but for the sake of God's work.  Mission is therefore not a programme or project some people in the church do from time to time; the church's very nature is to be God's missionary people.  We use the word missional to mark this big difference.'
For those people interested in church mission in the West, Roxburgh's  books are a good entry reader.

Rose Wood

I woke up at 5 O'clock again this morning.  It's becoming a habit, brought on because I am faced with lots of things that I have no control over. Anyway I woke up thinking about Rose.  It wasn't a dream but a waking moment if you know what I mean.
Let me take you back to the late 1960s; to Underhill Road in East Dulwich.  Rose was a lady we sometimes saw passing the prefab.  She was very tall, walked faster than Billy Whizz and always wore a headscarf.  She was no Audrey Hepburn, but the type of lady you saw walking up and down our road all the time.  She was also a nervous person but the only glimpse you got of that was the rate at which she chewed her gum (Maxi Mint as I recall). She had three children - David, a middle one whose name I can't recall and Wendy who was my age (about 9).  I always thought they were lucky because they lived in a real house made from bricks and they had a front room which they never used. Rose was full of life and more energy than a power station and when she looked at you she caught your attention and fixed your gaze. It was like she could see into your very soul.  She was more together than my mum and for that I think I admired her.  Then one day she lost her sparkle.  In hushed tones my mum told me her husband had been run over on his moped going to work.  What made it worse, she said, was that he had been run over by a lorry that rolled back on him in a traffic jam.  As a 9 year old I agreed that this death was cruel and worse than being killed by a car.  I don't think Rose would have agreed somehow.
This morning at 5am I had the overwhelming desire to go back in time and hold Rose's hand.  I haven't thought about Rose for 40 years and in the dark of my cold silent bedroom I wanted to travel back in time and hold her hand and tell her it will be alright and things will get better and that Jesus is here to help you and he will restore the years the locusts have eaten and ...I can't.  I hope somebody did back in 1969.

Is there enough evidnece...? Part I

Can I just make one thing clear (please)?  Being evangelistic is not the same as being missional.  I had a conversation with someone recently and it was soon obvious that we were not talking the same language - more of this later.
However, these are just terms.  What is important is our relationship with God and how that is lived out, day to day.  When I was growing up and 'learning my trade' in a solid and very sound Baptist church in Bromley, a question was often posed to us teenagers: 'If you were arrested and stood trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?'
This little question has gone out of fashion now but it is still pertinent and perhaps is worthy of being resurrected. I think it is an important question because it goes to the heart of being missional and I don't think we have ever really come to terms with what it means to live out our lives as followers of The Way. If we had, we wouldn't be writing about what it means to be missional or arguing about the demise of the Church in the West.

Did he really say that ?

Yesterday saw protests directed against the government in London.  Photographs and news reports did not make good viewing.  This morning BBC TV broadcast an interview with Professor Martin Povey from University College Union who had participated in the demonstration against increasing tuition fees.  He said, 'the atmosphere was absolutely marvelous'.  I had to stop and take notice here.  He sounded like some World   War I general glorying in war although this is unfair in retrospect.  He then said, 'we need education.  We need a future.  I think some people got angry, and frankly understandably so when you see your life being taken away...'
I wonder if the families of dead soldiers would see paying for education as a life or death scenario. I wonder if the soldiers who have no arms or legs due to IEDs and terrorism would see the professor's comments the same way. Come on, Prof.  you're supposed to be the cream of the cream.  Start thinking of others like these soldiers did, eh.

How good are you at saying no?

The phone rang and I was busy.  Not recognizing the phone number and being intrigued I answered it.  'Hello this is Bob from the Halifax.  Can I confirm this is Timothy Moore speaking?'  Well, there was no problem with admitting who I was and I thought I might get this testing question right. 'Yes' I confidently replied.  'Are you the Timothy Moore who lives in Shepley?'  'Yes'.  'Can I ask you to confirm your date of birth for security reasons?'  At this point and with work pressing on me I felt the need to ask why a stranger purporting to be from a bank (boo, hiss) wanted my date of birth.  'For security reasons'.  'But I know my date of birth.  You phoned me, I didn't phone you.  Why should I give you my date of birth?' I asked him again.  the reply was predictable. By now I'm a bit ticked off.  'Are you selling me something, because I didn't phone you and never asked to buy anything?'  'We do sell products' he said.  It was his turn to be confident with his reply.  'Well I don't want to buy anything'.  Bob was a tad huffy now and said a curt goodbye and the phone was once again free, as was I to get back to work. I felt bad for not giving my DOB and for leaving Bob on a sour note.  Why? It's funny how innocent people can quickly feel guilty for not giving over personal information. It's not as if he had a gun to my head and all I had to do was put the phone down.  I used to be good at saying no.  What's happening to me?  Am I becoming too Christian or just losing my youthful playfulness or something worse?