“Your lack of faith is useless…”

From “The Question Is Complete” by Aereogramme.

It’s that time of year again…the papers and television shows chronicle the highlights and lowlights of the year fading out.  We look back before looking forward.

How would you sum up 2009?  What words or pictures would you use?  What were the defining moments?  Could you make sense of them at the time?

Mine is here.  It’s a post I wrote on this blog back in April.  It all seems so much clearer now as another year ends.  The third interpretation in the blog post seems to ring true.  As 2009 ebbs away I have laid down worship leading and small group leading.  Family life will change in 2010 as we eagerly await a new arrival in May.  Work brings new responsibilities and new contacts – even with surveyors who share my love of surfing!

The lure of the sea with all its symbolism pans large on my horizon and I’ve been spending much less time on my blog and much more getting this off the ground.

Here’s to the New Year!

“I gotta feeling,

That tonight’s gonna be a good night.

That tonight’s gonna be a good night.

That tonight’s gonna be a good, good, night”.

From “I Gotta Feeling” by Black Eyed Peas.

I’ve written frequently and lovingly about the little small group of people who have inhabited our home most Tuesday evenings for the past 3.5 years.  Something that started off small has grown organically and I often wondered whether I could imagine my life without them all sat around our dining table chatting, laughing and eating?

Over the years some folks have joined us for a time and moved on, but most of the group have been fairly consistent.  These were not people we knew before but, whilst we don’t see each other a great deal through the rest of the week,  these folks feel like family. 

We often say that church is not the buildings but, rather, it is the people.  Whilst I love our church gathered, this small group collective has become church community to one another in a very real way.  Without these individuals, I know my life would have been much poorer these past few years.  They have brought so many laughs, tangents of discussions, new books, resources and ideas into our lives.  They have helped to continue to shape my thinking, to deconstruct some old notions, to re-examine my beliefs.

We met for the final time as this wee group on Tuesday.  I really wondered if it was going to be an emotional evening?  It actually felt like the perfect end to a chapter.  Before everyone left, we stood in a circle and just prayed blessing, guidance and a commissioning over one another.  It was hugely meaningful and uplifting. 

As people left, we all talked excitedly of seeing one another at the Carols by candlelight service on Sunday evening – almost longing to ensure that we don’t lose the cohesion and friendships we have developed.  So, in a very real way this is the end of an era.  Despite that, I am genuinely excited to see what tales we will trade a year on from now as we each re-orientate ourselves into 2010.

“Sometimes you’ve got to rewind to go forward.
There’s some good times around the corner.”

From “Have You Fed The Fish?” by Badly Drawn Boy.

The other weekend I headed up to the North West Coast of Scotland with seven others.  The minibus drive through the glens brought us closer to stags than I have ever been as they sheltered in the comparative warmth of the valley in the wee small hours.  We awoke to the beauty of the view from our lochside cottage on Saturday morning to see a dusting of snow on the hilltops.

We drove north to a secret spot and watched the lines on the water come across the horizon with increased rhythm as the tide withdrew and the swell built.  We stripped off in the November air and clambered into our wetsuits, trying to read the sea and the positioning of the rocks on the reef break. 

I felt exhausted just paddling out beyond the whitewater and was happy to just sit on my surfboard and lap up the scenery as I looked over towards the Hebridies.

Truth be told, I was out of my depth, nervous of undoing my knee’s gradual recovery and scared of dashing my board or body on the rocks and boulders below and on the shoreline.  I felt unsteady, tired, injured and out of my comfort zone.  The few waves I tried for took me off with such force that I felt every ligament pulled and stretched close to snapping point as I went through the under surface washing machine desperately trying to protect my head from being whacked.

The afternoon session on the beach break was gorgeous, but I just couldn’t get my technique together despite the near perfect conditions and beautifully peeling waves…

Saturday night, I felt quite discouraged, out of practice, injured and a bit of a fraudster.  Maybe I should sell my board and wetsuit and recognise I’m getting older…

Sometimes, we just need to humble ourselves, stop pretending and recognise our limitations.  There are times to ask advice and questions – to be prepared to take a few steps backwards, to deconstruct notions and rebuild things afresh – to see ourselves as others do and to learn from that – to reposition ourselves – to stop battling against the waves in our own strength, using our own technique and bad habits.   

On Sunday morning we returned to the reef break.  I sat the session out, resting my sore knee and simply enjoying the scenery and the sound of the ocean.  I just took the time to feed my soul and to find pleasure in everyone else’s stoke.

We returned to the beach in the afternoon and, having constantly repeated all of the advice from the day before, it all came together with me catching most of the waves I went for. 

The waves were cresting perfectly and with precise rhythm as the spray projected small rainbows in the offshore wind behind the line-up.  I came out of the water under a setting sun as the stars began to light up, exhausted but deeply chuffed and focussed.

I need humility.  I need to listen.  I need a different stance at times.  I need discipline.  I need practice.  I need focus on the areas I need to work on.  I need to get fitter.  I love the rush.  I love the sence of feeling so small amidst creation.  I love to hear the whoops of my friends’ delight when the conditions come together or someone catches a really great ride.

Maybe the lessons reach far beyond surfing?

“And I will raise my hand up
Into the night time sky.
And count the stars
That’s shining in your eye.
Just to dig it all an’ not to wonder why.
That’s just fine.
And I’ll be satisfied
Not to read in between the lines.
And I will walk and talk
In gardens all wet with rain
And I will never, ever, ever, ever
Grow so old again”.

From “Sweet Thing” by Van Morrison.

Is it just me, or does the pace of life step up a gear every December?  A constantly growing “to-do” list of presents to buy, places to be, people to see…all before we collapse into an exhausted heap come the holidays or the period when we get our space back to ourselves.

I seem to be juggling a bunch of things at the moment.  For the most part they are good things – things I am glad to be a part of.  I am looking forward to laying some of them down in coming weeks though…

Karl has talked a lot about the speed at which God moves.  Is it faster than the speed of light or sound?  Yes.  Is it slower than we often want?  Yes.  Is it at the speed of life?  Yes.  Is it at the speed of love?  Yes.  What is that?

Last night on my way from the office to another appointment I blew a puncture on my bike.  It forced me to stop – to think – to walk and talk with God.  When I looked beyond the Christmas lights, I noticed that the sky was clear and the moon and stars were bright.  The air was cold and sharp (0.5 degrees) and it was strangely refreshing and invigorating.  I dropped my agenda and was in a much better head-space when I arrived at my next destination.

Sometimes we just need to slow down.  Maybe the speed of love is 3 miles per hour.. That is the speed we walk at.

My next stop was to inhabit a, somewhat, secret place and just to be still.  To think, to reflect and to pray.  The two of us who met had a really useful bit of time out as we turned our eyes away from ourselves and towards others for whom we are grateful and to whom we would love to be good news.

“Take down the Union Jack, it clashes with the sunset
And ask our Scottish neighbours if independence looks any good?
‘Cos they just might understand how to take an abstract notion
Of personal identity and turn it into nationhood.”

From “Take Down The Union Jack” by Billy Bragg.

So, one of my friends has challenged fellow bloggers to do a post to celebrate St Andrew’s Day.  She asked those who are Scottish or have lived here for some time to reflect upon it.

The fact is I was born in Northern Ireland.  I lived there only for a few weeks and from the age of 4 I have lived in various parts of East Scotland.  Practically all of my defining memories are of times spent in Scotland and my identity feels Scottish, even though I write “British” on official forms. 

My first football kit was the Scottish strip for the Argentina 1978 World Cup.  My daughter turns 5 tomorrow, loves playing football and was born in Scotland and is about to receive her first Scottish kit as a present.  It feels like the passing of a baton in an attempt to discourage all the rubbish that goes with team colours at such a young age. 

I saw Billy Bragg play a gig in Glasgow last year.  He had recently written a book exploring the notion of patriotism, national identity, Britishness and multiculturalism in the light of the BNP securing presence in a by-election in his former home of Barking, Essex.  I wondered how the songs and stories of Englishness would be received by a Scottish audience where there can be such ugly hostility and dislike for the English in certain circles?

One of the thing that stuck with me was when he explained that if Scotland did vote for independence, then by default England would also be devolved.  Now, that opens up a whole other bunch of issues and politics.  He then went on to applaud some of the things that the Scottish Government has committed to and some of the potential we could offer as a nation.

I was chatting at length about these ideas with a couple of guys on a surfing road trip a few weekends ago.  So many of us are bored and disillusioned with politics and feel torn between voting with our conscience (politically and environmentally) and voting tactically in the next general election in 2010.  We discussed the prospects Scotland offers for a new social and ideological order.  A future of co-operatives, self sustainability, harnessing of renewable energy initiatives, an end to nuclear power stations beyond their current lifespan. We explored the frustration caused by us taxpayers having to bail out the disastrous state of Royal Bank of Scotland and the Lloyds Banking Group takeover of Bank of Scotland.  We talked about the difference between a sense of belonging and hope for the future contrasted with the often narrow dogma of Nationalism.  We talked about inclusion and exclusion in society, immigration and community.  We talked about the systems established in Scandinavia, the rate of tax and the quality of education, healthcare and work/life balance… It was one of those conversations where lots of views were opined and your mind was stretched to grasp new ideas and concepts…I love those discussions – especially as we looked out the minibus windows toward silhouetted glens with the stars coming out and the sky reflected perfectly in the lochs…

So what do I love about Scotland? – The manageable size of the cities; the fact you can get from one city to another or to the countryside quickly; the scenery; the accents; the proximity to the sea; the buzz; the seasons; decent tap water; the fact that Irn-Bru outsells Coca-Cola; the pride of wearing a kilt which has family history from my mother’s side; the sense of identity; the prospects of a renewables revolution…

What do I dislike? – the bigotry; the anti-English attitudes deeply held rather than a culture of respect; too much rain at times; the fact that global warming has all but destroyed the Scotish ski-season in the space of 25 years; cycling home from work on cold, windy and wet nights; the fact that we only ever top the league tables for things like heart disease, obesity and abortion rates…

What is our soundtrack? – please spare me the bagpipes or “Flower of Scotland” – give me some Belle & Sebastian, Teenage Fanclub, Aereogramme, Biffy Clyro, calamateur, The Delgados, Mogwai, Jesus & Mary Chain or Cocteau Twins any day…

Where is it best captured on film?  Save me “Braveheart” and watch “So I Married An Axe Murderer“, “Gregory’s Girl“, “Highlander” or “Restless Natives” instead.

As regards haggis, Douglas Coupland recently made me question my love of vegetarian haggis by asking why they try to make vegetables have the consistency or illusion of sheeps’ innards?

Oh and I wish I had a proper appreciation of whisky…

“Get around town,
Get around town.
Where the people look good,
Where the music is loud.
Get around town,
No need to stand proud.
Add your voice to the sound of the crowd”.

From “The Sound OF The Crowd” by Human League.

My daily working life involves gathering and analysing evidence, forming opinions and offering professional advice.  My days regularly involve preparing for meetings with clients, investors or stakeholders whose actions may be influenced in part by what I bring to the table.

Yesterday I had a board meeting with a difference.  My preparation involved taking cover in an underground carpark, dispensing with my suit and trying to avoid suspicion from other carpark users and ensuring I was out of sight of any CCTV cameras. 

A couple of minutes later, I emerged back into the natural daylight to be greeted with strange looks from those wandering about Holyrood Road, Arthur’s Seat and Our Dynamic Earth.  Soon a little crew of like-minded individuals had gathered, all looking a little like fish out of water in the shadow of the Scottish Parliament building.   

Was it a flash-mob?

Was it a publicity stunt?

Was it a demonstration?

What was it all about?

Find out here.

“I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind
But now I see.
How selfish of you to believe in the meaning of all the bad dreaming

Metal heart, you’re not hiding
Metal heart, you’re not worth a thing”.

From “Metal Heart” by Cat Power.

Cinema seems to have witnessed a resurgence of 3-D films over the past year.  Something that I thought had been ditched in the 1980’s seems to be being re-explored as a means of pulling us further into the stories that unfold before our eyes.  Is this a fad aimed at children or will we see cinema forever altered by revisiting ideas from an earlier age?

3-D cinema is designed to bring depth.  Everything literally takes on a whole new dimension.  We may feel self conscious or look silly with those 3-D glasses on, but when we are with a group of people with a similar focus our awkwardness seems irrelevant and our resistance dissipates instantly.

How often do I walk through life, caught up in my own little world, missing a whole other realm?

How often does my desire to fit in prevent me from seeing things as they really are?

“¹² Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.^[a] All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely”. (1Cor 13:12 – NLT).

It has been a priviledge in recent weeks to be assisting in leading my first Alpha Course.  It has been interesting to discover what the tenets of our faith are seen to be.  It has been inspiring to see the giftings and genuine love of HIWWC as she leads the sessions.  It has been refreshing to hear peoples’ ideas and experiences and to have a place where those are validated and listened to rather than the leaders doing most of the talking.  It has been a joy to see people begin to “get it” or nudge a bit closer with no-one ramming an agenda, but, rather, simply, holding out an offer. 

I have loved to hear questions asked, clarity gained and to catch even glimpses of lives taking on a whole new dimension and people gaining a different perspective and, perhaps, in time, a fresh world-view…

“After thirty years I’ve become my fears.
I’ve become the kind of man I’ve always hated.
I am pulled apart, and my swollen heart
Has flipped out of the pan into the fire.
I am in love insane with a sense of shame
that I threw stones at the condemned and now I’m slated.

And I don’t believe you’re all I’ll ever need.
And I need to feel that you’re not holding me.
But the way I feel just makes me want to scream.
Come home, Come home, Come home
Come home, Come home, Come home
Come home, Come home, Come home”.

From “Come Home” by James.

I tend to write a lot about journeying through life.  We are a disparate generation and so nomadic at times.  Many of us have moved around as we grew up.  Many of us left home to study and had our first real sense of freedom.  We have nostalgic feelings for those times and places and, even then, many of us only spent term time in those cities.  We moved on to wherever the job opportunities were and often we relocate due to employment.  We rarely return to where our family trees were rooted and we wonder why we find it hard to belong?

Sometimes there comes a point to put our roots down.  To soak things up and get the nutrients we need to really contribute to life.

Or as Karl said on Sunday, “If you’ve got the fruit, you’ve got the root”.

The one story that has stuck with me more than any other this year has been that of the Prodigal Son.  It’s one of the most famous stories in the Bible.  Yet, on several occasions and in several places I have been reminded not so much of the Prodigal, but of the tale of the older brother.  Maybe it’s because I am an older brother, but something has resonated and struck a chord with me.

Maybe like the older brother I have spent my time staying close to the Father’s house and busying myself with the Father’s business.  Those may not necessarily be bad things, but the older brother neglected his role of being a mediator – of going and looking for, redeeming and saving that which was lost.  He failed to bring his sibling back from the far land.

I don’t know if the far land is metaphorical, spiritual or geographical.  Maybe it’s a combination of those attributes?  Maybe my focus, whilst well intentioned, hasn’t always been where it should be?  Who is my brother?

Whilst at the Tubestation in Cornwall the other week I came across a great photo of a typical sign outside a church.  The words, however, were atypical:

“When the Father’s house is filled with the Father’s love the prodigals will come home”.

“Winter, winter on the way
bitter cold she bring.
Winter, winter on the way
hard and deadly thing.
Winter, winter on the way
everybody sing.
Winter, winter on the way
and after winter…”

From “Winter, Winter” by The Waterboys.

I love this time of year: steam from nostrils; condensation on windows revealing messages previously scribbled with damp fingers; sharp inhales of breath; senses feeling more focussed; stars seeming brighter and clearer by night; striped scarfs, cozy gloves and wooly hats; my rediculously padded parka jacket that instantly makes me feel like an extra from The Empire Strikes Back; the heat of my cheek from an open fire; hot, wholesome, soup and a glass of Merlot.

It still feels like early November, but I know the remaining six weeks or so of the year will disappear as they always do.

So this afternoon it was out with the old bike to retune it to face the daily commute through the colder months and into the garage with the new model to preserve it from grit, rust and corrosion.

We plucked the last of the apples from our tree and harvested the remaining vegetables from the garden.

It was nice to look back at the glow of the house lights from the darkening garden.  It was good to take stock, to recognise provision – to rest and be thankful…