I’m sat on a rather uncomfortable chair in a row of people waiting. It puzzles me why after thousands of years of making chairs we still don’t know how to make ones that are comfortable.

It’s Saturday lunchtime and the place is packed. We are in rows in one corner having booked ourselves in at the entrance.

There are young people some of them looking nervous, others looking a bit lost. There are older people mostly relaxed. It makes a change for the young to be the nervous ones.

Some of us are drinking water, others cheap squash out of large disposable plastic cups.

All of the usual waiting distractions are being employed: chattering, newspapers, out of date magazines, romantic novels, card games on mobile phones. Other’s have entered that semi-docile state that waiting induces.

It a large village hall where the decorations are looking a bit tired. Someone replaced the blinds at the windows in recent times, but didn’t bother to fill in the holes left by the ones they removed. There’s a stage and some spotlights that look like they were last used for some wonderfully under-produced and over-practiced amateur dramatics. There’s a certain comfort to these places. They’re all looked after by different groups of people and yet have the same feeling to them.

Occasionally a name is read out and one of our number leaves to another part of the hall. Others come to fill their place in the rows.

We’re all waiting for our journey into one of the little cloth cubicle for the initial interview and tests. It’s there that many of us will imagine the famous Hancock scene and repeat to ourselves the words “I don’t mind giving a reasonable amount, but a pint? Why, that’s very nearly an armful!”.

The theme tune to Rocky is playing on the radio. It doesn’t seem appropriate for this crew of wonderfully ordinary Lancashire folk.

In the fullness of time each of us will make our way to the fancy new reclining chairs or one of the wartime metal beds and the machines that will be attached to our arms to take our pint.

We’ll finish our experience with a conversation over at the tea and coffee table. there we’ll book ourselves in for another appointment of the same and leave.

We are all here to give something of ourselves, but why? There’s no payment. We’re not doing it for the fun of it. Who would choose to have a needle stuck in there arm for fun on a Saturday lunchtime. There’s no law to tell us to do it.

Yet there are many reasons why we give.

I’m sure for some it’s personal; they give because someone they love has needed the services of the donors and they realise how important it is. Others, I suspect, give because of a sense of duty, back to Hancock “I came here in all good faith, to help my country.”

I don’t think it’s either of those things that draws me to this place. I think I give because I’m a member of a society, a community, a people, and I give for our collective good. I give out of a sense of serving the community. There may be a time when I need the community to look after me. I know that there are people who need my help now.

None of these people will receive public acclaim. They’re a quiet group on the whole the donors.

In my view it’s not the Gross Domestic Product of a nation that is the true measure of it’s worth. It’s these selfless servants who are the true measure of a society.

He sat down and summoned the Twelve. “So you want first place? Then take the last place. Be the servant of all.”

Mark 9:35

We’ve recently returned from a few days in north-west Scotland, not right at the top this time, between Oban and Fort William in a place called Appin.

Next to Appin is one of the most famous views in Scotland, that of Castle Stalker (the picture isn’t the best at showing that castle we were taking sunset pictures). Beyond Castle Stalker is a place called Port Appin.

It’s called Port Appin because it’s the port on the mainland where goods travelled across to the island of Lismore. The whole areas is packed with history, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about in this post. Today the port is little more than a small jetty from where the small Lismore to Port Appin passenger ferry travels.

While on holiday we decided that it would be fun to hire some bikes in Port Appin, to get on the ferry to Lismore and to cycle on the island.

Hiring bikes was an experience in itself. As we drove into Port Appin there was a small sign saying "Bike Hire" pointing us down a street of houses. Another sign outside one of these houses saying "ring the bell at the back door" told us that we were in the right place. Sure enough, having rung the bell we were shown into a large a shed full of bikes for hire.

There were six of us and some were more seasoned cyclists than others. So it was with a certain level of excitement and trepidation that we cycles the short distance to the ferry.

There seems to be a law that wherever you go in the world the people running things are never the local people. I’ve many examples of this, in this case the man taking the money on the ferry was from New Zealand. He lifted the bikes over the hand rail around the ferry and stacked them in the small area at the front. We made our way down into the wooden cabin where we paid the small fee for the crossing and got to know one of the locals who seemed to be on his way back from a shopping trip. Those few minutes spent chatting were lovely and soon we were on the other side. We had also managed to get the most important information – the location of the one and only cafe on the island.

Having been offloaded by our Kiwi friend we set off cycling along the side of the beach on the one and only road on the island. The sun was shining, the countryside was beautiful and the air was fresh.

Eventually the road left the shoreline and started to climb into the middle of Lismore. It was at this point that the chain on Sue’s bike started to slip making it difficult for her to climb. For a number of reasons we decided that the best thing was for us to swap bikes. Both bikes had quick release bolts on the seats and mine would go low enough for Sue to ride it, and Sue’s would go high enough so off we set again.

Not much further along though I noticed that the peddle under my left foot was starting to wobble and the wobble was getting worse. I ignored it for a while, but eventually decided that I need to stop and have a look. As I stepped off the peddle and the crank arm that it was connect to fell off in my hands. I was stood looking at this bike wondering what I was going to do when another cyclist off the ferry stopped and offered assistance. He had a tool in his small bag on his bike and it enabled me to tighten the bolt a bit and go on my way. Good Samaritan #1.

It wasn’t long, though, before the bolt started working loose again. This time I’d made it as far as a farm. I went into the farmyard, found some people and asked if I could borrow a socket set. Without flinching the farmer went into one of the sheds, came out with a well used set of sockets and handed it to me. It was just what I need and got the bolt a lot tighter than the first time around. Good Samaritan #2.

Cycling to the cafe in the sunshine with clear skies and fabulous views of snow capped mountains was glorious. The soup and cake at the cafe was pretty good to.

We’d cycled half way along the island by now and some of the group were getting to the point where they thought that back to the ferry was the right way to go. Emily and I decided that while they finished off there lunch we’d explore a little further. Unfortunately during this exploring the crank arm started working loose again, the bolt had been threaded at some point and there was no way it was going to stay fast.

We meandered back to the cafe picking up the rest of the group headed towards the ferry and the farm. This time the farmer wasn’t there, but his wife was. She’d been around the first time and I asked her if it was possible to borrow the socket set again. She told that if I knew where it was to help myself, which I did with a smile on my face. Good Samaritan #3.

This time the threading had completely gone and there was no way that the bolt way staying in. In my youth I would have just scooted on the bike with one leg on the remaining peddle and my other foot pushing me along, but somewhere an the last 30 years I’ve lost that ability. I did, however, manage a reasonable method of walking up the hills and sailing freewheeling down them. After all we were on our way down to the ferry, so there was more decent than assent.

It was getting near to the time when the next ferry would be leaving and there was an hour between trips. Some of the group went ahead to see how far it was and whether I would make it walking and freewheeling.

When they got there our friend from New Zealand told them not to worry and that the ferry would leave when I had arrived. Good Samaritan #4.

As we sat eating our meal that evening we all agreed it had been a brilliant day, a day of beauty, a day of sunshine, a day of nature, a day of history, a day of community. I sat and gave thanks for Good Samaritans.

Just then a religion scholar stood up with a question to test Jesus. "Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?"

He answered, "What’s written in God’s Law? How do you interpret it?"

He said, "That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbour as well as you do yourself."

"Good answer!" said Jesus. "Do it and you’ll live."

Looking for a loophole, he asked, "And just how would you define ‘neighbour’?"

Jesus answered by telling a story. "There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.

"A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.’

"What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbour to the man attacked by robbers?"

"The one who treated him kindly," the religion scholar responded.

Jesus said, "Go and do the same."

Luke 10:25-37

I was reading something today when I cam across this saying:

“If you want to feel rich, just count the things you have that money can’t buy”

Now there’s a thought? Can I count the things I have that money can’t buy:

1. Last night’s sunset
2. A family that I love
3. The wonder of sight
4. The ability to read
5. The cry of the curlew on the moors
6. A breath of crisp cool fresh air after a warm day
7. A sky full of stars
8. The ability to write
9. A crescent moon
10. Watching the sun fall into the sea
11. A warm summer day
12. Love
13. The view from Gummer’s How at the weekend
14. A full moon
15. The patterns in wood
16. The buds on the trees
17. A kiss from Sue
18. Hope
19. Answering a crossword clue
20. A walk in the woods
21. Delight
22. The change of the seasons
23. A wild deer in the field in the morning
24. A good night sleep
25. A hug from Jonathan
26. A crisp cold autumn day
27. Friends who are there
28. Finishing the crossword
29. Kind words from an acquaintance
30. Watching my children grow into adults
31. The time of friends
32. Gratitude
33. The comfort of being at home
34. A glorious sunrise
35. Praise
36. A heritage
37. Walking
38. A rainbow after a storm
39. Tears of joy
40. Watching the acrobatics of a swallow
41. Holding Emily’s hand
42. Laughter
43. A thunder storm
44. Forgiveness
45. Prayer
46. The touch of a polished stone
47. Pleasant surprises
48. Visiting wildlife in the garden
49. The crash of a wave
50. Smelling a log fire

I got to 50 and decided that I felt rich enough.

My benefits are worth more than a big salary, even a very big salary;
the returns on me exceed any imaginable bonus.

Proverbs 8:20