A Pause in Advent #2

Our Advent services proper started this morning at church. A good title don't cha think? Clever. Nothing to do with me. This morning we were talking about (well - I wasn't - the pastor was) ..John, John The Baptist that was it, and Zachariah and Elizabeth. And I got thinking (After the service obviously - I was paying rapt attention throughout) It was the angel, that did it. The rustle of an angel's wing. Small beginnings. An almost imperceptible noise. Did the shepherds hear that flutter before they saw the angels  in all their glory?

And a prayer. The answer to a prayer. Zachariah and Elizabeth had thought it was too late for them. Zachariah hears the rustle of an angel's wings just while going about his day to day business in the temple and then he sees the miracle. 

Sometimes things start small. An answer may not come how you expect it. We should maybe learn to see God answering us quietly first and in unexpected ways. Such as the kindness of a local businessman who offers his shed to a young couple with nowhere to sleep. Or a star, a twinkly light in an unexpected place, reminding us we are loved and watched over.

We can despair or think we are forgotten. We can worry that the promised end seems as far away as ever. Yet, at this time, something in the heavens was stirring as God moved to put his plan into action. Sometimes it was obvious and angels sang in the sky but the small signs of God moving must have been there before, when people - shepherding their sheep, serving their God (though fearing they had been forgotten) and exhaustedly keeping on going despite everything -  out of nowhere, suddenly heard the rustle of an angel's wings 

Part of A Pause In Advent. Lots of good stuff linked through here

For the outsiders

I was just thinking, as you do. I kept thinking about those who feel on the outside of things – for whatever reason. Those who feel passed over. Those who never feel asked to the party. Those who feel it all goes on without them being able to be part of things. Three stories

The woman who hemorrhaged – for twelve years mind you – this was no passing ailment. She had been brought so low that as she reached out for Jesus, through the throng and those stronger than her, the place she was at was on the floor. So low that as she reached out her hand she touched the lowest, furthest part of him. It was all she could do. It didn’t matter. It was enough. Jesus felt her touch. He responded.  No one is too low.

The woman at the well. So sick of herself. So afraid of the constant judgement of the predicament she had got into, that she absented herself from life. She went to the well – did the things that were necessary for everyday life – at times when no one else was there. She cut herself off. Avoided everyone who might pass judgement. And Jesus finds her. He finds her in her hiding place. He goes out of his way and outside of the expected timeframe to find her. He talks to her through the looks he gets from his disciples, because he sees the person, even though he is well aware of the life she lives.

The centurion with the sick servant. He is from a different culture – a different understanding. He is not sure how to reach this Jesus. He does not feel on the same page, knows he needs something but cannot quite see how to get over the gulf. He sends out messengers – forerunners. He protects himself by insisting that Jesus doesn’t need to come. He manages to reach out while insisting on a distance. Jesus can work with that. He can take whatever you feel you can give. He will love at whatever point you are at. Jesus took it as a great credit that the centurion had felt able to reach out at all.

The lost, the lonely, the marginalised – either by life’s circumstances or their own behaviour. So many stories about Jesus and his ability to reach all – even the most trembly, crushed and messed up. 

Pause in Advent

So, despite my best efforts, Christmas has genuinely started - or at least the countdown has. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE Christmas. I'm just not that keen on it in September. 

Everyone, I meet says how annoying it is that we are constantly bombarded with Christmas adverts from just after the kids go back to school. Yet still people keep glancing at the Christmas decs, just itching to get the tree out and wrestle with the lights. Advertisers know that they are pushing on an open door when it comes to an earlier and earlier Christmas, Otherwise, why would they bother? So why do we say we hate how much earlier Christmas has become and yet allow ourselves to be taken along by it?

I think it's maybe partly because people need Christmas. (I am now fighting off an image from my youth of a long haired, lady playing the acoustic guitar and crooning - not entirely successfully - "People neeeed the Lord." Funny what stays in your memory banks ) First of all, those of us that are blessed enough not to work in retail or health care need the break. It's a legitimate chance to stop, to just stop doing everything and that makes Christmas important. (And for my money, that is one reason why moves to open shops on Christmas Day should be resisted by all means possible)

There is something else there though. After a difficult and sometimes dismal year people sense something. They sense a hope. An exhortation to be good to each other, beyond our own selfish desires and ambitions. Christmas brings with it the possibility that there is a plan and a purpose, despite very inauspicious beginnings. I think that people almost don't know it, but Christmas still stirs something within them - a possibility of the impossible - Peace on earth. Goodwill to Men. As a little girl, I was taught that these things has a condition in front of them - for peace and goodwill you had to take on board the first part of this verse in Luke and put God in his right place. That way, men can get that break and that rest from the daily troubles, that we long for. It's not much point in us trying to make it happen ourselves - not really. Not with our track record.


Luke 2
 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

 As this is part of a link up - as the month goes on, can I draw your attention to some blogs taking part in A Pause in Advent. Have a look. 

http://angalmond.blogspot.co.uk/


http://www.faith-hope-and-confusion.com/2015/11/a-pause-in-advent-1.html

Last week I have been...

"The Lady in the Van film poster" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia 

Reading stories from Paris and wondering about the courage of people and how they carry on afterwards. I am not writing too much about Paris here. I am not sure I have the skills to do it justice. 

Taken delivery of FOW2 for a weekend. She was came home to go to a concert. You do a sort of almost imperceptible gulp at the moment when your loved ones go to a public event but we need to carry on I think. Anyway she was convinced that bombing type people would have no idea who the band "The 1975" are so she felt quite safe. In exchange for a lift to the gig she accompanied me next day as I took Aged Parent to The Range. This was a bit of a rollercoaster. After having a heated argument with HOH about whether "Lametta" is a real word, I was very pleased to find a packet there and send him a photo, however was unable to talk Aged Parent out of her instant affinity for an exploding glitter Santa.

I was slightly put out to hear that security at Plymouth's dockyard is being stepped up in the wake of the attacks. There are nuclear submarines there. I was hoping security was already quite "stepped up" there as a general principle to be frank with you.

Out to watch The Lady In The Van. They are pushing on an open door a bit with me. I love Alan Bennett. His observation about day to day is outstanding. Maybe you have to be from the North of England to really get it but I am certain I have met around fifty percent of the people he talks about. 

I have already seen The Lady In The Van on stage. It was very good but I liked this more. It tells the "mostly true" story of an old lady who lived in a van which Bennett allowed her to park on his drive for fifteen years. She was cantankerous and had "interesting" toileting habits but Bennett said "She never impinged."  Maggie Smith is as perfect as you would expect obviously. However, I thought Alex Jennings was at least as impressive as Bennett. I read that Jennings wasn't too bothered about it being seen as Maggie Smith's film but was a bit taken aback to see it billed as starring Maggie Smith and James Corden (Corden is in it for about fifteen seconds) It's well written as you would expect and sometimes really funny. It's not a barrel of laughs though - you won't be holding your sides when  you come out because it is also really quite sad. People behave the way they do for lots of reasons and life is sometimes quite harsh to those who don't quite fit the mould. There's a lot of kindness here though and, at the moment, I can't think of a better reason to recommend a film to you.

In Praise of Lists

I am the type of person who scours the Internet to see what it is that I am doing wrong. Having spent some time perusing Twitter (to find some nice photos of Jeremy Vine and Karen Clifton in Strictly. I have left Strictly now they have gone. Too many semi danced trained, low level showbiz types for me - sorry.) I have come across a few things talking about the tyranny of lists and getting rid of this oppressive scourge. Well not me matey. I have a list. I have an ongoing list. My list is going nowhere. I will admit that the whole planner thing has gone a bit too far. I have never really felt the need to buy stickers with little glasses of water on them to tell me to drink six pints a day or whatever. I also freely admit that I find it a teeny bit sad that people spend fifteen quid on a stamp that says "To Do" rather than just scrawl it. (Actually, I don't even need to that. If it's written down - it needs to be done. That is all)

Firstly, I notice that a lot of these people who rattle on about leaving yourself free to run through God's Open Fields of Thoughtfulness or whatever are not burdened by my working patterns. I am full time - nine to five. I can't break off for a couple of hours to sit on a hill. It won't go down well with the Powers That Be. I cannot count on their understanding. This does not just apply to people who work. Lots of people are so committed to lots of things, they just can't "go with the flow". 

Also I am old and I forget things and if things that I need to do are not staring balefully out at me when I open my diary, there is every chance that they won't get done. I am the King, Queen and Princess Royal of mentally sidelining things that I don't fancy. Writing it down will make it unavoidable; a Thing That Must Be Done. Consequently, when the task is complete, I have found that there are few things more satisfying than running a highlighter pen through one of these conscience prodders.

I find, it makes time for me. It really does. I use a list to both write down what I need to do but also to limit my expectations. I may need to do eight hundred and forty things but if I write down the three most urgent for the next five evenings, I will usually do those things and then skip off and do what I want to do. This means things get done and I feel good. Otherwise there is every chance that you will find me curled up in a ball under the bed crying because I am overwhelmed by how much needs to be done and I have spent the whole evening watching re-runs of Only Connect - even though I have already seen every episode- just to take my mind off them.

As I age, I am more aware of how quickly time passes. The prospect of having a life that, one day, allows me to lie on my belly in the sun and daily contemplate God's goodness is very attractive but today, I have so many things I have to do, that I need to remember them.