Drive by argument

Perhaps I should have come clean and owned up to my particular interest in the fortunes of "Drive by Argument." It has something to do with the fact that one of the members of the band is the boyfriend of one of my daughters. Not that this has influenced me in any way, of course. :-)

All that aside, they are definitely worth a listen.

The Sega Method

I'm also looking forward to the release of the single "The Sega Method" by Drive by Argument.

Check it out on their myspace website.

Amazing Grace

I'm looking forward to the release of this film. I only hope that the film-makers manage to do justice to the story which by any standards is an 'amazing' one.

Here's what some of the advance publicity has to say about it:

"The film is based on the life of antislavery pioneer William Wilberforce. The film's release also coincides with the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade.Amazing Grace stars Ioan Gruffudd (Black Hawk Down), Albert Finney (Erin Brockovich), Michael Gambon (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), Rufus Sewell (Legend of Zorro), and introduces Youssou N'Dour. Gruffudd plays Wilberforce, who, as a Member of Parliament, navigated the world of 18th Century backroom politics to end the slave trade in the British Empire. In 1785 Wilberforce underwent a spiritual encounter which he described as a conversion experience. He resolved to commit his future life and work wholly in the service of God, and one of the people he received advice from was John Newton, a leading evangelical Anglican clergyman played in the film by Albert Finney. Youssou N'Dour plays Olaudah Equiano. Born in Africa and sent as a slave to the Colonies, Equiano bought his freedom and made his home in London, where he wrote a best-selling account of his life and became a leading figure in the fight to end the slavery of his fellow countrymen."

The music coming from the chapel

Recently I was given a gift of one of Paulo Coelho's books-"Like the Flowing River." It is a series of thoughts and reflections, short pieces written between 1998 and 2005. I have enjoyed many of Coelho's novels and was looking forward to dipping into this. I have not been disappointed.

His style is simple but poetic but, much more importantly, his insights are often profound.

One of the pieces entitled "The music coming from the chapel" describes an incident when Coelho come across a hermitage in the middle of a wood near Azereix in southern France. As he enters the usually-closed building he finds a young woman playing guitar and singing. He describes it as "an unforgettable moment in my life, the kind of awareness we often only have once the magic moment has passed." In fact for him it becomes a moment of revelation and deeply-felt worship.

When I read this particular story it reminded me of a very similar feeling which I had on one of my trips to Venice. I cannot remember whether it was in 2003 or 2004. I was with my youngest daughter, Heather, and we were indulging ourselves in a kind of photographic feast, shooting off dozens of rolls of film. One of the places I wanted to visit was the Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Miracoli (The Church of the Miracles.) It is a beautiful little marble jewel of a church, built between 1481 and 1489. Unlike St. Mark's and some of the other major tourist attractions it is never swamped by boatloads of day-trippers, partly because it is almost hidden away in a residential part of the Canareggio.

We paid the small entry fee and stepped inside this little marble wonder.

I think there were only a couple of other people inside the building at the time, apart from the person at the entrance desk. There was a hushed and reverent silence.

I was walking slowly up the steep stairs towards the high altar when suddenly this magnificent tenor voice burst out in song: I think it may have been a Monteverdi psalm. I turned round to see the source of this 'music from the chapel' and there stood the slightly bulky figure of a man with a magnificently bushy beard. When he came to the end of the psalm he simply turned and walked out of the building again. I felt exactly the same feelings as Coelho describes in his essay "a state of worship and ecstasy, and gratitude for being alive." Just a fleeting moment, yet it felt timeless. Music has often that had effect on me but in that particular place at that particular time, the effect was almost overwhelming. My own little personal 'miracle,' a sign to me of the spiritual world in the midst of this world.

A short while afterwards when Heather and I left the church we saw the man again, talking to someone else. As we walked past I was surprised to hear him speaking in English and I could not help overhearing him as he told his listener that he was the conductor of a choir from England and he was in the process of organising a tour. He was looking for venues where they might perform. I don't know who he was, or what choir he was talking about, all I know is that in that particular moment, and in that special place, his voice touched something deep inside of me. Coelho has expressed that moment perfectly: "In the simplicity of that small chapel.... in the morning light that filled everything, I understood once again that the greatness of God always reveals itself in the simple things."

Trees in the mist

On the way home from Bo'ness I stopped for a few seconds to take a quick snap of Linlithgow Palace* in the morning mist and rain.
It really was a quick stop!
I had overtaken a tractor at the top of the hill and managed to take the phtoograph and jump back into my car and pull away before the tractor caught up with me.
I must have looked like a real tourist!

* birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots

Getting there...

So here is Nancy beginning the course at World Without Walls. (We still haven't had any snow so I got her to Bo'ness without any problem at all this morning- apart from not being able to lean back in my seat.)
No word yet as to whether Wilson will be able to get his visa or not. He has been told that he will get a decision tomorrow. So keep praying and hoping.
I am hoping to be able to sleep a little tonight. Without going into the messy and unpleasant details I am expecting the doctor's knife will have been more effective than the antibiotics.

Adverse weather conditions

Sorry to go on again about the weather theme, but which century are we living in?

I couldn't believe this section of the leader in yesterday's "Times." [Then again, I don't often buy the Times] But are they seriously saying that a couple of inches of snow managed to prevent the leading article from being written? No, wait a minute, that is exactly what they are saying: "We apologise that this leading article could not be written due to adverse weather conditions." [that's in case you can't read the rather faint scanned picture]

Does this mean that leader writers of The Times don't have computers and email etc.? Maybe they still write everything out long-hand and send it to the typesetters to be set up? Hmmm...

No such excuses from me! Well, for a start we still haven't had any of the snow. But a few inches of the white stuff is hardly going to affect this publication. What has almost prevented me from writing just now, however, is "adverse health conditions." A large cyst on my back has become infected and is giving me a lot of pain. I can't find a comfortable way to sit or lie down, and sleep has been in short supply the last few nights. I'm just hoping the antibiotics begin to take effect soon.

But enough complaining from me! I have some good news at last on the Kenyan-partnership front. Nancy arrived from Kiambaa this morning. Too late to join us at church but in time to meet a few of the congregation who were still having tea or coffee. Tomorrow she begins the World Without Walls training course- provided I get her to Bo'ness in time. Now there's something that "adverse weather conditions" might manage to prevent. Let's hope not.

Half a loaf...

I suppose administration and bureaucracy are necessary - but sometimes they can be very frustrating.

You may remember we have been trying to organise a visit to Scotland by two of our friends from Kiambaa Church (our partners in Kenya.)

[The photograph shows some of the young people of Kiambaa church just before we left in 2005]

In the last few days and weeks there have been many messages (telephone and text) flying across the miles between us and today there was some good news. At last. One of our guests, Nancy, has been granted a travel visa and thanks to the very helpful people at Key Travel, I have just managed to book a flight for Nancy for tomorrow night and she should be with us by Sunday morning which will enable her to begin the World Without Walls Training Course in Bo'ness on Monday morning. Unfortunately, Wilson has been asked to go back to the British High Commission on Monday morning and has not yet been granted a visa. At this stage we have no idea whether he will be successful or not. It is all very frustrating.

Of course, as I probably mentioned in a previous post, if Wilson was married, had lots of money and lived in the city he probably would have had few problems in getting a visa, but clearly the authorities consider that there is a risk that he will choose not to return home and somehow just disappear in this country. It is all very frustrating.

However, I suppose half a loaf is better than no bread... and if we keep on hoping and praying maybe Wilson too can have the privilege of leaving the warmth of equatorial Kenya to come to the sub-zero temperatures of central Scotland.

On that point, I have been getting quite irritated (once more) at all the fuss in the TV news about the weather in England. Honestly....a couple of inches of snow and you'd think the world had come to an end! For goodness sake... it is February. It is winter time. Sometimes in winter it snows in this country! And sometimes (for reasons that didn't seem to apply when I was young) that means schools are closed... oh, and traffic has to move more slowly. So what? There are other more important things happening in the world. Learn to live with it.

Get set... go

The last pantomime picture - for a while anyway. This is more or less the full cast just before 'curtain up' on Saturday night.

Of course, if you were at the panto you'll know that we had no curtain. It meant that our stage crew (Graeme & Derek) had to be very quick, very efficient and very quiet at scene changes. I have to say they managed to be all three and did a superb job and, apart from one little glitch on the Friday night, it went incredibly smoothly.

Not like a performance I attended last year at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. A special treat for my birthday - to go the opera. I know it was a great sacrifice for my wife to take me there because she can't stand opera. But I love it. Now, any of you who are familiar with Glasgow will know that we have a perfectly good opera house - the Theatre Royal. But this was in the concert hall. A large stage, certainly, but no curtains and no facilities for flying scenery quickly offstage. Now, you might think this would be a good time to go for a minimalist approach to the set: let the audience use their imaginations and allow the music to set the scene.

But, no. It was a pretty traditional approach to Rigoletto by The Chisinau National Opera in association with the Ukrainian National Opera. The trouble was it took the stage crew about 25 minutes between acts to disassemble one set and then build the next. It could have been very boring - and almost was - except that I kept hearing the sound of electric screwdrivers buzzing away in the darkness, accompanied by cursing and swearing from the stagehands who clearly weren't sure how everything was supposed to fit together. Admittedly it must have been a bit like building a 3-D jigsaw puzzle in the dark. Quite bizarre.

However, not the most bizarre feature of the show.

The award for that has to go to the moment when a fully-grown golden eagle was brought onto the stage. There seemed to me to be absolutely no dramatic, musical or logical reason for this, though in the publicity for the opera it was being hailed as a particular attraction, along with the fact that there would be some nudity involved in the production.

Maybe I was just too near the back of the concert hall to appreciate either. All I can say is I'm glad the singing was quite good.

All's well that ends well...

A glimpse of the two "baddies" (Haudit and Dropit) from 'Jack and the Beans Talk.'
Of course, they turned out alright in the end.
So did the panto as a whole. Everybody had great fun and, what's more, so far it has raised over £1100 for charity.
We plan to share the proceeds among the Children's Hospice Association Scotland, World Vision, Kiambaa Church (our partner church in Kenya) and Glory Christian Fellowship Orphanage in Kenya (another project we regularly support.)

We are hoping to further strengthen our links with Kiambaa very soon, as long as the visa authorities in Nairobi are on our side. We have invited two of our friends from Kiambaa (Wilson & Nancy) to come over to Scotland and take part in the World Without Walls training course. We tried this last year but Wilson and Nancy were refused travel visas. We are hoping and praying that this time they will be successful.

Good news and bad news

Well, what do you want to hear first: the good news? or the bad news?

The good news was that the pantomime was a great success. A sell-out both nights and two lively, up-for-it, audiences (although I have to say that Friday night's audience was a little bit quicker at getting the jokes! On Saturday the cast had to work a bit harder to get the gags across.)

Talking of the cast... that was the bad news.

My daughter, Ailsa, was due to play the lead role of Jack - a part with quite a lot of lines to learn including a one and a half-page monologue at the start. Being the central character in the story it was a rather important role.

Unfortunately, in the early hours of Thursday morning Ailsa took ill. So ill that she had to be taken by ambulance to hospital. I am happy to say that she is now making an excellent recovery. However... we were left on Thursday with a real dilemma as there was no understudy for the part. (OK - bad planning, I know...)

We felt desperately sorry for Ailsa who had put so much work and practice into preparing for the show, not just in the lead role but also as choreographer and even helping to direct a couple of rehearsals. But since she couldn't even stand up on Thursday, treading the boards on Friday was just out of the question.

So we looked at the various alternative options:

Cancel. Hard to do when we had sold nearly 500 tickets.

Postpone. But for how long? And the set had already been built and was in place. Could we get everybody together again for some future date...?

What if I, or my wife, Dawn, played the part? (Em...No - don't think so...)

ENTER our youngest daughter, Heather!

She volunteered to have a go, even though she had spent the previous week complaining that she didn't even like panto and hadn't even read the script, never mind attend a rehearsal.

And so, with just one day to learn the 40-page script and no time to get the cast together for a full rehearsal, Heather took on the challenge. Now, no doubt I am biased, but I thought she was brilliant. I have no idea how she managed to learn the part in less than 24 hours and then carry it off with such confidence. It was fantastic.

Actually, everyone who took part did a brilliant job, including many who had never acted in their lives before.

Even the beanstalk rose majestically and magically to its full 4.5 metres... although half an hour before the show opened I spotted some fraying on the pulling wire and we had to get the ladder out and fit a second wire just in case.

Of course there were some minor mistakes (mainly technical... and mainly my own responsibility) but all in all it was a fantastic effort from everyone concerned.

Oh, and the picture, by the way, is of the "giant's" mask - magnificently crafted by Rhoda Baxter.

Let me quote from the script:

Jack Mum, that was only some of it! There’s a whole load of treasure up there. But there is something really scary up there as well. That’s why I ran. …..It was huge with bulging staring eyes, and spiky hair, and it had hair all over it’s face like a straggly beard, I bet it had a big fat belly and flat feet too.

Mum You mean just like the minister!

Jack Just like him, but huger!

Maybe you can see the resemblance yourself?

Bridges old and new

Still thinking about bridges. This one is the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. (Doesn't that sound so much more romantic than 'old bridge'?) The photograph was taken in 2005. It's an amazing bridge which for centuries has been so much more than a way of getting across the river. It's a meeting-place, a market and, by the looks of this photograph, a means of defying gravity.

Yesterday I received a text from a friend who, to celebrate a significant birthday, is enjoying a short break in this wonderful city.

(I was just a teensy weensy bit jealous. I still prefer Venice to Florence but all the same it is a great place especially if you love Renaissance art. I'd love to go back some day.)

Taking short breaks, especially if they involve flying, has become a very controversial thing of late- apparently very damaging to the environment and contributing to global warming. (Of course this is something that wealthy people were always able to do. It's just a problem now because it has become affordable to so many more people.)

I guess we will all have to think very carefully about how much we travel in future. However, there are some very positive benefits to be gained in visiting 'foreign' lands... and it has a lot to do with bridges. When you have been to a so-called 'foreign' country, observed its culture, eaten its special foods and, most of all, met its people- it is so much harder to think of them as enemies. You are less inclined to fear or to fight those whom you have come to know as friends. In other words travel builds bridges and that can only be a good thing.

Over the Clyde

You know, one of the unexpected delights about starting this 'blogging' business is coming across other interesting blogs.

Thanks to one blog I visited (PRESENT) I have been introduced to a band I'd never heard of before (Over the Rhine.)

I have been enjoying listening to them (because they allow you to download a number of their tracks for free.)

The bridge here is not over the Rhine but over the Clyde. I had this great idea a while back that I would photograph ALL the bridges over the Clyde and then write a book telling the history of each bridge. That was until I realised just how many bridges there are and how hard it might be to research all of their stories. Not only that, nobody seems too sure exactly where the River Clyde really starts. It doesn't get called the Clyde until round about Abington but this is just where a number of tributaries come together.

Anyway, although I did manage to photograph a number of the bridges, I gave up on the idea of the Photo Book with stories of them all. Maybe one day...

... after I've written my first novel...

... and screenplay...

.... and collections of poems...

that is... almost certainly never.

What I do have to do before Sunday (really before Friday) is write two sermons.

Now, I wonder if I could get away with a slide show of pictures of bridges...

It'll be alright on the night...

Well, I guess that's it!

Final rehearsal yesterday went reasonably well. Just the opening night to look forward to now. Inevitably there were one or two 'snags' yesterday (that's what a dress rehearsal is for after all) but at least we didn't need a major re-write of the script or a re-think about my beanstalk 'engineering.'

It's been a fantastic individual and team effort from everyone involved and considering how few rehearsals we've actually had I am amazed at how it has all come together.

Now... if they can all just keep up the momentum for the two nights of the performances...

This is not a rehearsal...

A cheeky smile from one of the cast (Amelia- not in costume, by the way) during last week's Panto rehearsal. Tomorrow is the final "dress rehearsal" - the last chance to iron out any problems and get things right for the opening night. Bit scary really as we haven't had nearly enough of these things called rehearsals.

But at least we've had more of them for the panto than you get in real life.
In life there are no rehearsals. The curtain is up from the moment we are born and we are on stage, ad-libbing all the way. No wonder we get our lines wrong so often and sometimes even lose the plot!
Talking of ad-libbing. I went to a Celtic Connections concert during the week - the lovely Kate Rusby and her very talented musical friends, including Roddy Woomble. It was a great gig, though at one point John McCusker was taking some time trying to re-tune his bouzouki. (Well it would take you a lot of time to do it too!) He uttered a heartfelt plea for someone else in the band to "keep talking" whereupon the accordion player (whose name I have forgotten for the moment) stepped forward and gave the Royal Concert Hall audience.... a recipe! All the ingredients, all the instructions... everything except an actual demonstration. He managed to while away a good four minutes. I think he may have a future as a TV Chef if the accordion-playing doesn't work out.
However, I better not blether here any more or I will be "ad-libbing all the way" during the sermon tomorrow morning.

[*don't forget you can click on any of the photographs on this blog to get a full-size version]

Sometimes the sun sets too quickly

Tomorrow I have the sad, but privileged, task of conducting the funeral of a young man just 18 years old.

Graeme died of Duchenes Muscular Dystrophy, though his death was rather sudden and unexpected.

I don't yet know what I am going to say at the service but I think I may use the words of song I wrote many years ago when a friend of mine died at the age of 28. He was always know only by his initials and that's why the title of this song is simply "A.P"

A.P.

He had so much to give,
So much love to give
So much life to live
And a heart full of love.

We saw him growing old,
A young man growing old,
And now the story’s told
Before it had begun.

We hadn’t even time to say goodbye.
He left us, Oh so quickly,
Left us asking why.
And the world kept turning
Like it hadn’t even noticed
He was gone.

Now time keeps moving on
And we’re all moving on,
Living and loving on,
No longer asking why

But we will not forget,
No we can not forget
His love is with us yet
‘cause some things never die.

We hadn’t even time to say goodbye.
He left us, Oh so quickly,
Left us asking why.
And the world kept turning
Like it hadn’t even noticed
He was gone.

(c) Iain D. Cunningham

The Sleeping Warrior

This morning I took my youngest daughter back to her University accommodation in Ayr.

It's a place I always enjoy visiting, although on this occasion I only stayed long enough to help her carry some of the boxes and other bits and pieces upstairs to the flat.

Not long after we were married, my wife and I spent two very happy years in Ayr where I worked as Assistant Minister at Ayr: Castlehill Church. So it has always been a special sort of place- especially the view out across the Firth of Clyde to the Isle of Arran.

On my return journey today as I passed Prestwick Airport the view across to Arran was particularly dramatic with the island's snow-capped peaks scraping the clouds. I couldn't resist stopping the car to take a photograph.

I'm rather embarrassed to admit, however, that even though I have seen Arran from just about every angle (and it looks fantastic from the Kintyre peninsula too) I have never actually set foot on this particular island, where our current First Minister, Jack McConnell grew up on a sheep farm.

This is something that I really must do something about- not Jack McConnell's upbringing... but my failure to visit Arran. One of these days...

By the way, for those who don't know "The Sleeping Warrior" refers to the outline of the mountain ridge that forms the spine of the island and is supposed to look like... well, a sleeping warrior...

Talking of which, it is time I went to bed...

O, no you don't....

We had a fun rehearsal for the panto yesterday. At last it all seems to be coming together.
Here some of the singers get a chance to see the action for the first time and hopefully begin to realise how the songs they've been learning fit in with the story. They seemed to be having a good time anyway.
On Saturday, in spite of my fear of heights, I was up a ladder about 15 feet from the floor (I think that's about 4.5 metres in new money) putting into effect my little 'engineering' solution to the growing of a beanstalk. We won't know if it works until Sunday's dress rehearsal. (Not that I'm a last minute person or anything like that...)

Who put the lights out?

Yes, the storms that hit parts of England yesterday were severe, and it is a real tragedy that a number of people lost their lives suddenly and unexpectedly. My thoughts and prayers go out to those affected in such extreme ways.
The loss of lives through stormy weather is relatively rare in this part of the world and, therefore, I appreciate, newsworthy.
But what I found hard to take watching today's lunchtime news on TV was how about 10 minutes of the 30 minute bulletin was devoted to non-stories about people being without electricity "for a whole 24 hours!"
[When Carluke was without any gas supplies for almost a full week last year after a contractor accidentally blew up the gas mains, it scarcely merited a mention even in local news.]

What really annoyed me was the whingeing (encouraged by leading questions from reporters) that the power had not been restored after a whole 24 hours had passed. Don't they realise that power workers have to work in extremely dangerous and unpleasant conditions to repair broken power lines, and by its very nature a severe storm causes multiple problems that are not all going to be solved overnight? And, much more seriously, don't people realise that there are millions of folk around the world who have absolutely no access to electricity, or whose supply is at best intermittent? Or what about the effects of the Tsunami on the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in Asia?

I wish folk in this country would stop complaining about what, in the overall scheme of things, are pretty minor discomforts.

[Incidentally, the photograph was taken in Kenya in 2005, as a big storm was brewing up over the Masai Mara. Now there is one country where electricity supplies are pretty erratic and certainly not universally available.]

A not so elegant solution?

At a slightly lower cost than the Millennium Dome or the Scottish Parliament building (in fact at a total cost so far of £7.13) I think I may have come up with a solution to the 'engineering' problem I mentioned earlier in the week.

It remains to be seen, however, if it will actually work. I will keep you posted.

I enjoy problem-solving, whether it's fixing a computer problem, or just doing the crossword, or trying to make a 14foot cardboard whale (yes, I did that once, or rather twice, in two different ways-but it would take too long to tell you how or why.) I enjoy it because there is an answer to be found and there is great satisfaction to be gained in finding it.

Life itself, of course, is not so simple, and many of the issues and questions we wrestle with in our daily lives just do not have any easy answers. And sometimes no answer at all. I am often suspicious of those who claim that they do. I suspect they either do not understand the problem or they have never had to try out their proposed solution in real life.

Then again, who said life should be problem-free? Or that every question must have an answer?

*Excerpt from "Reason, Truth and God By Renford Bambrough"

Knock down walls and build bridges instead

Now here's a piece of engineering that seriously impresses me!
It's the world famous Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel.
(Someone with a name like that had to turn out to be pretty special, don't you think?)
And he was only 24 years old when he designed it!
I visited the bridge in August last year and I just thought it quite amazing.

I've always had a bit of a fascination with bridges, in spite of my fear of heights- or maybe because of it?
Even the simplest and roughest of bridges seems to me to be a testament to the human spirit, the unwillingness to allow an obstacle to get in the way and hinder progress.
While most (if not all) other animals adapt to fit their environment, we human beings do our best to make the environment fit us. It's an instinct and talent that may well be our undoing, of course, if we succeed only in destroying the environment. We need to temper our ambition with a considerable amount of humility and learn to live in harmony with the planet.
That said, I still get a thrill out of seeing a magnificent example like this of technological bravery and skill.
There's another reason I like bridges. They seem to me to symbolise the task that Christians ought to be performing in the world. I say ought to, not with any presumption that we actually manage to do it very often. In fact, more often than not we only succeed in building walls that divide rather than bridges that bring together. But it is our task all the same: to knock down dividing walls and build connecting bridges.
It's no wonder that Brunel's design for spanning the Avon Gorge won the competition. It would have won it on looks alone, but the real beauty of it is what you don't see- the construction of the abutments that sustain the main piers. The secret of any strong bridge of course lies in the stability, strength and safety of the parts that bear the load.
It's true of relationships too. You have to be quite secure in yourself to reach out to others and build bridges. Wall building, on the other hand, is almost always a sign of insecurity. Just think of the "security fence" dividing Israel/Palestine just now for example.

How do they do that...?

Another perspective on the London Eye.

I guess this must be something like the view that a fly gets sitting on the inside rim of a bicycle wheel. (Remember, though, you only get ground, or near ground level, shots from me. Unless I happen to be in an aeroplane.)

Actually, I found the engineering feat of the London Eye quite impressive. But then, that kind of thing always impresses me. (Remember also that I was brought up with Meccano!)

I could sit for hours marvelling at a bridge or a skyscraper or The Falkirk Wheel. Feats of clever engineering always provoke a bit of a "wow" response from me, especially if they are on a very large scale.... or on a very small scale.

When I was in Secondary School I used to while away my time in the Latin Class dismantling my mechanical watch. (The Casio digital watch had yet to appear on the scene.) On these occasions the only thing more marvellous than the intricate mechanism of my watch was the fact that the Latin teacher never once asked me why I was taking the thing to bits instead of listening to her - even though I sat at the desk immediately in front of her. It has always formed part of my belief in miracles that I actually passed my Higher Latin exam - even getting a "B" - when I paid so little attention in the class.

Ah, the world is full of wonders!

The so-called "argument from design" may be discredited (and rightly so, for what right have we to expect that we could ever 'prove the existence of God' by any argument) but the intricacies and complexities, balanced with the amazing simplicity, that go to make up the known universe produce an even bigger "wow" response from me, and somehow make me feel justified in holding my belief in God. Real worship is always just a big "wow!"

These rambling reflections were prompted by the fact that I am puzzling over an engineering question myself. Just a couple of weeks to go to dress rehearsal and I haven't quite worked out yet how our giant beanstalk is going to grow up to the sky. Wish I had a fraction of the cash that was spent on the Holyrood Parliament building or the Millenium Dome! But I'm afraid this is going to be another no-budget production. (I'll let you know if I come up with solution... but only if it has worked.)

Nostalgia Trip by Helicopter

Just to prove that I haven't actually grown up here's a picture of one of the Christmas presents I received this year in my stocking - a Meccano kit helicopter.

As you can see, although it must be well over 40 years since I last had a Meccano set, I haven't lost the knack of Meccano building! It's like swimming, or riding a bike - except you don't get wet and it doesn't tire you out.

I wonder how many of these kits were bought this Christmas for real children and how many were bought as nostalgia tickets for alleged adults like myself?

Growing up

The picture is of the youngest participant at this year's Fiddle Force Winter School. Robyn was just a little over two weeks old when her Mum and Dad brought her down to Wiston.

Seeing her reminded me of how quickly time flies past - especially today, as Heather, the youngest of our children is now officially no longer a child. It seems like only yesterday since our 'baby' was born.... and now she's eighteen!

Can't write much at the moment as I am about to go out with the family for a celebration 18th Birthday meal!!

Just one comment, though.

At a meeting today in Edinburgh, which I was chairing, I happened to make a particular suggestion to the committee. (It was the Nomination Committee of the Church of Scotland - Don't ask what it does, or how it does it... it would take too long to explain.) One member of the committee remarked: "That would be the grown-up thing to do."

I wasn't sure whether to take it as a compliment or not but replied that it was probably the first time in my life that anybody had ever described any of my suggestions as "grown up" or had ever accused me of being grown up.

Ah, well, I guess we all have to grow up one day. Maybe this was my day?

Lovely Lanarkshire

The only downside to being at Wiston Lodge over the weekend, was that I wasn't able to get to the 'Lanarkshire Derby' Scottish Cup tie between Motherwell and Airdrie. The compensation for that, however, was the chance to take in some of the gentle beauty of this part of South Lanarkshire. While I was out snapping a few landscapes I tried to listen in to the football on the radio of my mini-disc player. Unfortunately the signal wasn't very good and from time to time disappeared completely. For the most part I coped with it alright, especially when I heard that Richie Foran had scored to put us into the lead. That was still the position for most of the second half as Airdrie threw everything at us to get an equaliser, and coming very close on several occasions. And then...with less than a minute to go... I lost the signal completely! It was some time later before I got confirmation that The 'Well had scraped through to the next round.

And now... the reward is a game against my old team of Greenock Morton. Having been born in the town of Port Glasgow next door to Greenock, Morton were the team I supported as a child, until we moved to Lanarkshire when I was 11. I always like to hear how they are getting on, especially as a local Carluke boy, Stewart Greacan (nephew of Tommy Gemmill) plays in central defence for the Cappielow side. This time, however, I will be hoping Morton have a bad day! Unfortunately, if it is played on the Saturday this is yet another game I am likely to miss as it will coincide with the world premiere of our church panto (more of which at a later date.)

Fiddle Force

Having had a pretty busy few days after 2007 began, with a couple of funerals and meetings in Edinburgh etc., I was really pleased to get the chance to take part in Fiddle Force Winter School 2007 at Wiston Lodge over the weekend.
Not much sleep on the Friday or Saturday night but lots of fiddle playing, some new tunes and some new friends.
Tutors this year were same as last year, the ever-entertaining Alasdair White and the always-delightful Patsy Reid.
You can see Alasdair in action on YouTube. (Actually he is pretty subdued in this clip compared to real life.)
When I first went to the Fiddle Force Winter School several years ago no one knew that I was a minister. I preferred it that way because it meant people got to know me as a person, without any preconceived ideas (or prejudices.) Now most folk have gotten over the shock of discovering what I do 'for a living' and in fact over the weekend I got involved in quite a few very interesting conversations and discussions on spiritual issues. I think it's a real pity when labels (and prejudices) get in the way of real dialogue - no matter what the context. If we just get to know (and trust) each other as people first of all, it's amazing what we can learn from each other.

New Year: same old stories?

Well, it's a New Year, but already it's hard to see what is new about it.
Back to work already with a number of funerals this week and a meeting in Edinburgh. AND... my team were beaten again by Rangers. (Unjustly, of course, since Motherwell played the better football by far and it didn't look like a penalty to me... etc. etc.)
And it is raining...
New Year: same old stories?

However, I have managed, at the last minute, to book up for the annual Fiddle Force Winter School at Wiston Lodge this weekend and am looking forward to getting the fiddle warmed up with a couple of days of non-stop playing. (Hardly played much at all this year due to a variety of circumstances.)

Of course, in one sense there is nothing "new" about any new year. All dates are just arbitrary moments in time. In fact they just exist to remind us that time never stands still and that we are always getting older... But (and I really do believe this) every moment is new and full of possibility. Of course, you have to learn to look, or the only thing that you see is what you've seen before.


letter written by Fra Giovanni, 1513

I am your friend
and my love for you goes deep.
There is nothing I can give you
which you do not have,
but there is much,
very much, that,
while I cannot give it,
you can take.

No heaven can come to us
unless our hearts find rest in today.
Take heaven!

No peace lies in the future
which is not hidden
in this present little instant.
Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow.
Behind it, yet within our reach is joy.
There is radiance and glory in the darkness
could we but see —
and to see we have only to look.
I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver,
but we, judging its gifts by the covering,
cast them away as ugly,
or heavy or hard.
Remove the covering
and you will find beneath it
a living splendour,
woven of love,
by wisdom, with power.

Welcome it,
grasp it,
touch the angel's hand that brings it to you.
Everything we call a trial,
a sorrow,
or a duty,
believe me,
that angel's hand is there,
the gift is there,
and the wonder of
an overshadowing presence.

Our joys, too,
be not content with them as joys.
They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose,
so full of beauty–beneath its covering–
that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven.

Courage, then, to claim it,
that is all.
But courage you have,
and the knowledge that we are
all pilgrims together,
wending through unknown country, home.

And so, at this time, I greet you.
Not quite as the world sends greetings,
but with profound esteem
and with the prayer
that for you now and forever,
the day breaks,
and the shadows flee away.

Stormy Weather

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Well 2006 stomped out with a bit of a temper! Gale force winds and driving rain. Nothing new for Scotland, of course, but it seemed to be pretty severe last night. (The picture was taken in the afternoon just as the storm was beginning to build up some steam.)

Maybe it was because I was actually trying to go somewhere. I was trying to take one of my daughters to Strathaven but Strathaven was doing an even better job than Carluke of keeping out foreigners. Just about every road into the town seemed to be blocked by a flood or a fallen tree. Why is it that the trees which are uprooted by storms nearly always seem to fall across a road? (no doubt there will be some scientific explanation.)

Eventually by making a long detour using tiny roads that only just made it onto my map we got through to Strathaven with a certain sense of triumph. Maybe I should apply for a job on the Pony Express (heroes in my boyhood)? Only problem is I don't ride a horse (would they let me use my car?) Worse still, riders had to weigh less than 125 lbs. No chance of that! Especially not at this time of year.

But, the best thing is that in spite of the storms and the obstacles we got through. Perhaps there's a message in that for the New Year that has just begun. Who knows what storms and obstacles lie ahead? A bit of determination and perseverance helps to keep you going - not to mention some very heroic roadworkers last night out clearing fallen trees with their bulldozers!Thanks, guys!

Whatever lies on the road ahead, may you find a safe way through.

God will make a way,
Where there seems to be no way
He works in ways we cannot see
He will make a way for me
He will be my guide
Hold me closely to His side
With love and strength for each new day
He will make a way,
He will make a way.

By a roadway in the wilderness,
He'll lead me
And rivers in the desert will I see
Heaven and earth will fade
But His Word will still remain
He will do something new today.

God will make a way,
Where there seems to be no way
He works in ways we cannot see
He will make a way for me
He will be my guide
Hold me closely to His side
With love and strength for each new day
He will make a way,
He will make a way.

Don Moen

Way to go...

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY
and Best Wishes for a Happy New Year.

There's nothing like having clear directions. And, as you will see, today's photograph shows nothing like clear directions.

One of the things I like about Venice is how easy it is to get lost in it. It was 'designed' this way to confuse intruders and strangers.
The photograph is not from Venice, of course. It is from Carluke. Obviously during this festive period we don't want any intruders or strangers to venture in so we have designed a cunning system of diversions which take people in ever increasing circles around the town until they have no idea where they are, or whether they should turn right or left. If you look closely at the photograph, you will perhaps see some evidence that one driver at least couldn't make up his mind until it was too late!
Seriously, though, it was my privilege and pleasure to welcome a number of strangers to our Christmas Eve watchnight service this year at Kirkton Church. I hope that none of them felt like strangers but that, instead, they felt they were among friends.

Here is a rather long verse I wrote many years ago. It's not great, or even good, poetry, I know, more like a verse from some cheesy Christmas card, but it does make a point of sorts.
Finding directions for life is not always an easy thing, especially for those who are not content to take everything at face value. But if you don't give up, and you don't take too many diversions down too many dead ends, you might just get there in the end....


THE QUEST


Shepherds on the hillside were the first to hear the news
Of the baby who was born to be 'King of the Jews".
“You'll find him in a stable,” the shepherds were told,
“Wrapped in bands of cloth against the winter's cold.”

The shepherds' search was an easy one
For Bethlehem was their own home town.
Though a 'King in a stable' sounded absurd,
They soon discovered it was just as they'd heard.

With wonder and joy they knelt to the ground
And silently worshipped the King they had found.
They knew that the child in the feeding stall
Was the Promised Messiah, the Saviour of all.

Yet long before the shepherds heard the baby's cry,
Scholars in the East had been studying the sky.
The journey facing them would be a difficult test
But they prepared themselves for their special quest.

They made out a list of all they would need:
Money and clothing, and water and food.
To the list they added gold, myrrh and frankincense–
Precious gifts for a new-born prince.

For many months, and in all kinds of weather
The Wise Men carried on their search together,
Following a star that had told them the news
That a baby would be born as "King of the Jews".

At last to the country of Judea they came
And made their way to Jerusalem.
To the Palace of Herod the Wise Men were bound:
For where else but in a palace should a king be found?

When Herod the King heard of their arrival
He was jealous and afraid; for he wanted no rival.
"I AM THE KINGI No-one else!" he said.
"I must search for that child." (Herod wanted him dead.)

To the throne came the Wise Men as Herod commanded:
“Now where is this ‘King’ to be born?” he demanded.
“In the village of Bethlehem” they replied,
“For so, we believe, it was prophesied.”

“We have seen his Star from our home in the East,
And so we set out on our difficult quest.”
“Carry on with your quest; search far and wide,
For I want to …. Worship him too.” Herod lied.

Suspicious of Herod, the Wise men went on,
Deciding together they would not return;
They wouldn’t help Herod to search for the child
For they knew Herod really wanted him killed.

But the light of the Star was shining again,
And hope burned in the hearts of these truly wise men.
They followed the light till it came to rest,
Then they knew they had reached the end of their quest.

Here was the new-born King they had sought.
They bowed and offered the gifts they had brought:
Precious gifts of frankincense, gold and myrrh–
Though the love in their hearts was more precious by far.

There are many roads to the Child who is King,
And many gifts that a person may bring.
To the shepherds the stable was close at hand;
To the Wise Men the child was in a foreign land.

But whether the QUEST be long or short,
Only he who has love and truth in his heart
Will have something of worth that he may bring
At his journey's end to the child who is King.

© lain D. Cunningham

Christmas Sorrows

What for some may be a time of joy and family reunion, is often, for others, a time of desperate sadness and separation.
It is the privilege of ministry to meet people at every point between celebration and despair.

One of the saddest things I've ever had to do during a Christmas season was to conduct a service for the burial of a stillborn baby. There are no easy answers or quick comforting words that can be offered at times like these. Often silence is the only honest response. But even the silence sometimes has to be articulated later and I did this some months after the event in the following short poem. It is offered to everyone for whom Christmas is a hard and painful time.

Stillborn at Christmas

Cold was the day.
Bitter and cold were our hearts.
The sun shone, clear and bright
but, strangely, without warmth.
we felt forsaken by the Universe,
a gathered knot,
around the loose-ends of the little life
we never knew.

And we buried
the dreams and hopes
that had unravelled.

The flesh became a word
that would not dwell among us.
and I, the spinner of words,
had nothing left to say.


(c) Iain D. Cunningham

Shop till you drop

Where have I been these last couple of weeks? you might ask - if anyone ever reads this blog, that is.*

Well, you can be sure of one thing I have not been indulging in the nation's favourite pastime - shopping - even though it is now getting very near to Christmas. Nor have I recently been where this photograph was taken (Mong Kok in Hong Kong) which is a pity, because Hong Kong is a fantastic place. I say this even though shopping is undoubtedly the top pastime in Hong Kong and it is probably one of my pet hates. (With the possible exceptions of buying CD's and books.) Oh... and the imminent possibility of purchasing a new camera! That I will enjoy, although I know already exactly what camera I want to buy, so it won't take long.

To be honest I just don't know where shoppers get the stamina from. I've found it easier to walk the West Highland Way than to walk down Sauchiehall Street on a late December day. (In fact, to be even more honest, it's a long while since I did either!) NO - shopping is just not my thing. Any shopping I do now is usually done online. Your feet don't get so sore for one thing.
I am, however, really looking forward to Christmas because the family will all be together again.
Of course, I will be working on Christmas Eve (a Sunday) even doing a bit of the night shift with our midnight service and I'll be working on Christmas Day. But I wouldn't miss it for anything - not even flying off to the sun (or more likely sitting in a tent in a fog-bound Heathrow Airport. Ouch! poor folk.)

Anyway... back to Christmas. "This'll be your busy time!" is the comment I hear more than any other during the run up to Christmas. You can almost hear the implied observation that for the rest of the year you don't really do very much anyway. I'm not sure it is much busier for me than many other times of the year: it's just that people see me at all sorts of events. Tomorrow morning I will be at my fourth school Christmas service!
(Actually, it is only my third. I had a clash of dates for one of them and had the brilliant idea of making a short video to be played in the service through the multimedia system, an upbeat message, wishing everyone a really Happy Christmas. Unfortunately the school's laptop wasn't quite up to it and struggled to do both video and audio at the same time. Apparently my contribution was more like the Rev. I. M. Jolly, when the sound slowed down and went out of sync with the pictures.

A colleague who was present at the service because her daughter is a pupil in the school very kindly and thoughtfully wrote this to me the next day: "Just a quick note to thank you for giving me the best laugh I’ve had in ages – tears were rolling down my cheeks – you may already have heard. Not sure what was up with the sound on your message today – but I did make comment that you could audition for the next IM Jolly!
As you well know I am not highly PC literate so I am afraid we all just enjoyed the moment – or rather minutes. It certainly made the end of our service today highly memorable. Eilidh was there with another 2 from VP – and she has talked about your funny voice every since she came home – wondering if you were better now – if you still have funny voice – so I have tried to reassure her that it was your tape recorder not you that was a bit sick and next time she sees you in her school you will be fine!!!"

Well, isn't that what we are supposed to do? Cheer one another up?
What I'm not looking forward to, however, is my next visit to the school.
(I think I'd rather go shopping!!)

*Don't forget to add your comments if you do read this.

It's the timing

At the beginning of the week I was at the Macdonald Highland Hotel in Aviemore for an overnight conference as part of a series of events which are to do with "Church Without Walls"
It came at just the right time to bring encouragement to a number of people, about 160 of us... although as I drove 150 miles each way through gale force winds and driving rain, it didn't seem much like the right time of year to have a conference in the highlands.
I took my camera but never ventured outside to use it. There wasn't much time to do so anyway as I was heavily involved in the music. So, no pictures of Aviemore, but instead a picture from a much sunnier and much warmer, Hong Kong. The picture was taken in a park in HK in 2005.
I thought it was a very witty way of making a point, as well as a pretty clever piece of landscape gardening.

Being 'Green' is very fashionable these days, of course... and not before time, if we want to save the planet!
Anyway, I remembered the photograph in the middle of this week.
On Wednesday, as most people will know, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Gordon Brown, delivered his latest (most people think his last) Pre Budget Report. Then, as tradition dictates, his opposite number, George Osborne, gave his response. In doing so he made what could (and should) have been quite a funny joke about Gordon Brown trying to appear 'green.'
"People say that he has only become green recently. I think that's most unfair. He's been green ever since that meal at Granita's. The Prime Minister remembers it. Mind you, and I know the Prime Minister doesn't live in Islington anymore, it says something about the state of the Labour Party that Granita has just changed its name. It's now called: Desperados."
Full marks to the speechwriter. Very clever.
But, sadly, it didn't get much of a laugh... because of the way it was delivered.
"It's the way you tell 'em!"
But, it's true, isn't it?
So much of comedy is about timing and delivery not just the joke itself.
I think God has a great sense of humour. He must have to put up with us all the time.
But, then, he also has a perfect sense of timing.
"When the right time finally came, God sent his own son..." [Galatians 4:4]

But don't forget either what Mike Scott once wrote in a song:
"Well, if you want to give God a laugh- tell him your plans" [Long Way to the Light]

Spice is the variety of life

Just back from another excellent meal at the only Korean restaurant in Glasgow (maybe Scotland?) It is called Kokuryo

I was there with a group of Koreans to celebrate the graduation of one Korean friend (EunJin) from Glasgow University- as an MSc. Well done, EunJin!

If you've never tasted Korean food before... you should. But don't ask what is in any of the dishes. It is better not to know. Only joking about that. (But if you don't like seafood you may struggle.)

One of the Koreans asked me if the food wasn't too spicy for me. "No." I said, "not too spicy at all." He pressed me further. "Well, on a scale of 1 to 5 where would you put it for spiciness?" "About 3," I said. He was quite surprised by that until I explained to him that Glasgow is the curry capital of Europe- and we like our curries hot. Of course, Korean food is very different from Indian food but, as I pointed out, I've had many years to get use to chillies and garlic. It would have to be very hot to beat me!

In fact, I like to try any kind of food, from any part of the world - and there is not much that I can't eat. Some people, however, can be extremely fussy. Often, I suspect, it is because they just won't take the risk of trying something new. They prefer to play safe with what they already know.

It's not just in food that this applies, though. It's the same with ideas and experiences. Some people are afraid to entertain new ideas, or new ways of thinking, or new ways of doing things. Churches are full of these 'fussy eaters' who only want what they have always known and are not willing to try something new. But not all the 'fussy eaters' are in churches. You can find them anywhere.

I still love a good old-fashioned plateload of mince and tatties (minced beef and mashed potatoes for those not familiar with this traditional Scottish dish) but not every day.

A little bit of spice adds variety to life.

Eye in the Sky

Another snap from my short trip to London.
Maybe I should explain that the reason I only have pictures of the London Eye and not from it is that I am more than a little bit nervous about heights.
It's one of those irrational fears that sometimes creeps up on you from behind, just when you think you had it beat.
Given this particular phobia which I've had since early childhood, it may be surprising to some people that I once got a job in a roofing company. It's true though. (I was a student and needed the money and it was the only work I could get one summer.)
I have to confess that in a number of respects it was a thoroughly educational experience for someone training to become a minister. When I started the job I was more or less terrified of any height above my own head, but it's amazing what you learn to cope with when necessary, and after a few weeks I was clambering up roof flashings 50 feet off the ground and walking on slate roofs 100 feet up (...sorry I still think in the old measurements - you can do the conversions yourself...) without any form of safety harness, or rail to prevent us slipping off and turning to mince on the pavement.
I don't know if the Health & Safety Executive had not yet come into being but I do know that there was precious little concern for our safety and I wasn't convinced the job was good for my health.
Anyway it all came to a head (wall-head that is) one day when I was almost at the top of a ladder that was leaning against the wall of a factory, whose roof we were allegedly repairing. The main problem was that the length of the ladder was a little bit less than the height of the wall. (About 30 feet.) It meant that to get on to the roof you had to stand on the second top rung of the ladder, grab the wall head flashing, and pull yourself up. A fairly risky business at the best of times.
On this particular occasion, the foreman, a rather cocky Glaswegian with a slightly warped sense of humour, was holding the ladder for me. Just as I had arrived at the second top rung and was reaching out to grab hold of the wall-head, the foreman suddenly pulled the ladder away from the wall and began shaking it backwards and forwards while I clung on like a performing monkey. Clearly my performance was bringing some joy and entertainment to my supposed protector below as he was bellowing with laughter. Then he shouted up some words that I doubt I will ever forget: "All right then, Reverend, let's hear ye sayin' yer ******* prayers noo...!"
He didn't hear me saying them... but that doesn't mean that they weren't being said!

Water under Westminster Bridge

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to go down to London and visit my daughter, Linsay, who is currently working at the Houses of Parliament. It was good to catch up with her news and also to meet in person some of the people she is working with.
I especially enjoyed being given my own personal tour of "the corridors of power" with Linsay as my very own tour guide.
Of course, I couldn't take any photographs inside. But I did take the obligatory tourist-eye cliche snap of Big Ben, with its gilded stonework gleaming in the sunshine.
I wonder how many times this has been photographed?

I also wonder how many of the people who live in London ever actually look at it - or any of the other "sights" for that matter?
It's the same wherever you go around the world. The majority of the 'locals' just take for granted all the things that other people have travelled many miles to see. They no longer seem to 'see' them at all.
What good photographers are able to do, though, is make everybody see the most familiar of things in a new, and sometimes surprising, way. It's what all creative artists do. I think it's also what preachers are supposed to do.
It's not easy.

Unfortunately I didn't have a lot of time to share with Linsay - and even less time to think about creative photography - but I did try to look at one the latest London sights (the London Eye) from a few different angles. All from ground level I hasten to add. I tried to make use of the low sun, as if it was shining through the lampost, but it didn't quite work.
Ah, well... I guess I'll just have to take another trip down to London some time....

What I find sad is the way so many people seem to go through the whole of their lives failing to notice what is around them.
You only have to really look for a moment to see that every moment is unique and that even the most familiar sight is not the same as it was a moment ago. But if you plod along waiting for life to happen to you, you're going to waken up one morning and discover it has already rushed past you like water under a bridge.

Reflections on the Indian River

With the rain pouring down here and the days becoming very short, I decided to haul out this photograph of the Indian River at Cocoa, Florida, another one of my favourite places in the world.
It's such a tranquil spot in the early morning as the sun comes up.
We have also stood in that same place to watch a Space Shuttle launch, although (if I remember correctly) that particular launch was postponed.
It's some time now since I visited there, staying with some very special friends.
Somehow the approaching winter weather has given me a notion to go back. I wish I could.
I suppose there have been lots of times in my life when I wish I could have gone back- perhaps to do things differently, perhaps just to relive some special experience, but, of course, time doesn't work that way for us. And the only way is forward. I just hope that will include the possibility of visiting Cocoa again some time soon.
On a much less serious note- the script for our church pantomime has now been completed and rehearsals begin on Sunday. We have until the first weekend in February to get the show on stage. Not easy with Christmas in between (not to mention regular work!!) But I think it is going to be great fun for everyone who has volunteered to take part.
At this stage, I'm not going to give away any secrets about the plot or the characters, but I will reveal the title: Jack and the Beans Talk.
Now that's an original one isn't it?

These feet were made for walking...

OK - technically it is not much of a photograph. It's just something I managed to snap quickly through a shop window in Venice. But what a cool pair of shoes, don't you think?

Shoes disguised as feet!! Now that's what I call originality!

I guess we all know what it means to walk in someone else's shoes - even if it is not something we do very well. As a Christian I am supposed to walk in the footsteps of Jesus Christ, but I don't find that at all easy: not when I start to think seriously about some of the things he said.

In particular I am thinking about his command to his followers to "Love your enemies!" I'll be preaching about this on Sunday- though I don't yet know what I'm going be saying.

I tried to find a hymn that might go along with the text but, to my surprise, couldn't find anything suitable. So I decided to write one myself today. It's a bit rough yet. One or two lines I'm not happy with. But I won't have time to refine it before Sunday.

Although my congregation will give the hymn its 'premiere' you saw it first here!

It is no easy task, O Lord,
to walk the way that you have shown,
to pray for those who wish us hurt,
or love the ones who cause us pain;
yet your commands are very clear
we cannot doubt what you desire.

For your example, Lord, is plain
and your commands are all too clear;
forgiving words at insults thrown,
demanding words for those who fear—
“Love more than friends, love enemies too:
not only those who will love you.”

Give us the strength, O loving Lord,
to take this costly path of peace,
and though it be no easy road,
teach us this day to live by grace;
as children of our God above
we’ll learn to walk the way of love.
© Iain D. Cunningham, 2006 [Tune: St. Petersburg]

Eyes Wide Open

I had a great time at the Korean Church on Sunday and, thankfully, everyone was infinitely friendlier than the character in the photograph, taken in 2002.

[The photo is of one of the four 'guardians' at the entrance to a temple in Seoraksan National Park in Korea. I think it is called Shinghungsa (Temple of Compassion) but I can't really remember now. What I do remember is that in the gatehouse there were four of these characters each about 4 metres high. ]

But, as I said, nothing like this greeted me at the Korean Church in Glasgow. Instead I was given a very warm welcome and, after the service, a very large and tasty meal! (Prepared by the young adult group.)
It is a good experience to go to a place where you are very definitely in the minority and where you do not understand the language. You learn to listen in all sorts of other ways.
It is also an interesting experience to preach with an interpreter - something which I have done not only in Korea but also in Kenya.
Having a naturally inquisitive mind I really enjoy meeting people from different cultures. I enjoy even more the chance to visit new places and see for myself the rich diversity of cultures that still exist in our world, in spite of 'globalisation.'
But I find it sad that many people seem to be afraid to step out of their own comfort zone and learn about those who are different from them- not only in language or customs, or colour, but in other less obvious ways.
Of course it is important for people to belong to a 'tribe' but some kinds of tribalism (as anyone who lives in the West of Scotland will know) can be depressing and dangerous and lead to a very narrow view of the world.
I feel privileged to live in an age where an ordinary person like myself has the opportunity to explore something of the rich diversity that exists in the world, and, thanks to new technologies, we can all do some of that exploring without even leaving the comfort of our own homes.
But if you want to taste real kimchi you do have to go to the people who know how to make it.