Category: Blessings

Blessings #174 – Vulnerable Places

For most of my life I have tried my hardest to be in control. It’s a feeling that most of us have; the need to be in control. Without control we feel exposed and vulnerable.

Striding EdgeI hate to imagine how many night’s sleep I have lost because I have been facing a situation that I wasn’t in control of. I was reminded of this the other week as I lay in my bed looking into the darkness and turned over and over a situation that was going to face me the next day. This wasn’t even a very important situation, but it had got under my skin.

Over recent years I’ve tried to change this as I’ve become increasingly aware of two things. The first is an obvious one – I’m never going to be in control of everything. The second is not so obvious, but is more profound – control pushes people away and puts me into a cage of isolation.

If I’m going to be someone who lives a life that is connected with other people, truly connected, I need to drop the control, be open and as a result be vulnerable.

In a study of what makes people wholehearted Brene Brown made this observation: "In order for connection to happen we need to allow ourselves to be seen, really seen". Brene has some really profound insight into what it means to be vulnerable and open and wholehearted, a video of here presentation at TED is at the end of this post.

She also makes the observation when talking about how we numb our vulnerability "We make everything that is uncertain certain. Religion has gone from a belief in faith and mystery to certainty – you’re wrong I’m right." I’ve definitely been guilty of that in the past, and probably will be again, but I’m trying not to. I’m trying to be someone who embraces the vulnerability of the journey of faith that I’m on.

Jesus never asked us to have all of the answers, he did ask us to journey together. I’m trying to embrace the unknown alongside the known. I’m trying to let my relationship with Jesus grow in the weakness.

Part of this journey of vulnerability has been to create a few places where I can be open and exposed in safety – places of vulnerability. One of these places takes place on a Thursday morning as myself and two other men get together for breakfast and to chat. Most of the time we talk about things that others might regard as trivial, but they are things that are close to each one of us. They are things that we feel the need to share, in vulnerability, with the others. We don’t even have the answers most of the time, that’s not the point either. Our aim is to allow ourselves "to be seen, really seen".

I’m sure that part of Jesus statement "Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in" Mark 10:15 is that children have a wonderful ability to make themselves vulnerable without condition.

We cannot live a life completely in control, it would be madness to try, but we can try to live a life of hiding. Jesus us asks us to come out of the hiding and to make ourselves visible, exposed and vulnerable.

Brene Brown

Blessings #173 – The Power of Small Steps

In our front garden there is a willow tree who’s branches, twigs really, reach to the ground.

This tree sits in the middle of a small piece of ground that is covered with slate chippings.

Snow in Preston?The chippings are quite large and the tree branches are only thin.

When the wind blows the small branches brush across the chippings backwards and forwards.

It’s only a gentle brush, and each swoosh can only move a few small chippings a small distance. If you sat and watched it you’d struggle to see that anything was changing.

Each step is tiny but it doesn’t take long and it doesn’t take much wind for the tree to clear the chippings from beneath it’s branches in less than a day. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to move a pile of stones off the drive and back under the tree. Of you added the piles up it would form a huge mound.

We don’t have to take massive steps to move mountains, we just have to take consistent small steps, moving a stone at a time is enough.

Likewise, you can’t finish a marathon in one huge step, you finish a marathon by putting one foot in front of the other over and over again. Each step gets you nearer to your goal, put together enough steps and you’ll get to the end.

Christians are also called disciples which means follower. We don’t follow for a day, we follow for a lifetime. The Christian faith is a walk of thousands of steps and he walks alongside us in every one. Sometimes it’s good to look back and see how far we’ve come.

Blessings #172 – A Warm Glow

This morning I got on my bike and set off on the journey to work.

Someone has turned the thermostat down recently, it’s not freezing yet, but getting that way. I decided that my thin gloves would be ample to keep my hands warm, I was mostly right. My hands ended up cold, but not frozen.

Levens SnowAfter a few minutes sat working at my desk I could feel my fingers take on the warm glow that occurs as a result of warming up after being cold.

There’s something unique about the warmth that gets generated after our extremities have been at the mercy of the elements.

It reminds me of playing in the snow, keeping going until my hands are absolutely frozen and then coming in to warm up.

It reminds me of winter weekends gardening with my parents.

It reminds me of long hikes crunching frozen leaves through woodlands, by streams and up mountains.

It reminds me of early morning paper-round deliveries with stiff hands that make it difficult to slot the papers through the letterboxes.

It reminds me of winter rugby training, running in the snow trying everything to keep my fingers warm.

The glow is almost worth the pain of the cold.

Blessings #171 – Inspirational Lives

Yesterday one of the people who has inspired me over the years died.

His name was Tom.

HollowforthI moved to Preston as a young student over 25 years ago. I didn’t really know anything about Preston, but I did know some people. These people helped me to find a local church where I could fit in, and I’m still part of that church.

One of the things that attracted me to this community was a set of handshakes. There was a particular set of handshakes from people who had hands that were big, rough and sturdy – hands that had done a solid days work over a number of years.

There was also a set of smiles and twinkles in eyes that talked of a life of purpose and a deep knowledge of the important things.

Tom was one of those people.

Tom’s background was completely different to mine.

He was a farmer and I was young student, the son of an engineer.

He’d lived all his life amongst his extended family. My family was, and still is, scattered all over the world.

He was from a different era. I suppose I’ve always thought of him as old, but your perception of old changes as you get older yourself.

He’d known hardship and heartache that I have never experienced.

Tom was an inspiration.

I’d sit in prayer meetings and listen to Tom pray. He’d talk to his Father God in a way that spoke of an intimacy I craved.

I’d watch Tom in church as he sung praise to his Father God and see his face light up. He wasn’t just singing words he was worshipping.

I’d speak to Tom and he’d show a knowledge about my family’s life that demonstrated deep care for people beyond his immediate concerns.

On one occasion Sue and I joined Tom on a trip to Glasgow where we were to minister to a small church. Tom had taken the young pastor there under his wing showing a commitment to join people in their ventures.

I’ll miss that handshake and I’ll miss that smile and I pray that my life might follow Tom’s inspirational example.

Blessings #170 – Trusty Old Clothes

I’m writing this post sat on the lounge at home. I’ve worn a suit all day, but now I’m wearing a trusty pair of walking trousers.

They are a favourite.

InvernessI couldn’t tell you how long I’ve had them; long enough for the labels inside to have to writing left on them. When I bought them they were an olive colour. I’m not sure what colour you’d call them today other than the obvious ‘faded olive’.

These trousers have travelled some miles. If I’m flying somewhere and had a choice of what to sit in for the next 8 hours I’d choose these trousers.

They’re walking trousers and they’ve done some walking. I have in my mind that when I bought them they were advertised as quick drying and that’s still true today. It’s one of the reasons why I love them. I tend not to go walking if it’s going to rain all day, but you can’t go walking in the UK without expecting a shower.

But as well as walking these trousers have also journeyed with me as I’ve visited the beach, camped out, mowed the lawn, hung a picture, watched the television, read a book, driven the car and sat by a lake. They’ve been with me on all sorts of adventures.

These trousers are part of my history and carry that history in their fibres. There’s a couple of places where they are a bit worn out and a few places where there are little rips. Some places have faded more than others, some places appear as vivid as they were when I bought them. A bit like my history.

Weaved through all of these fibres of history is another thread. A different thread. A thread  that manages to touch all of the other fibres adding vibrancy. This thread doesn’t fade and doesn’t wear out.

Blessings #169 – The Visits from the Little Voices

For those of you who don’t know, I am the father of two children who are well into their teens, actually one of them is about to enter his twenties.

WatendlathThe other evening I got home from work, put my bike in the garage and walked through the front door. I could immediately hear that there more than the usual number of people in the house and all of them were in the kitchen. As I listened I realised that there was an extra voice, a little voice.

We don’t really have any little voices anymore.

We were being visited by the little girl from next door. Today’s activity was cake baking. Birthday cake baking to be precise.

Little voices have a way of saying things with a delight that we lose somewhere along the passage of time. There’s a wonderful honesty too.

I love it when the little voices come to visit.

Jesus had a particularly special place for people with little voices, and not just children.

The Bible talks about children, women, widows, orphans, servants, aliens, foreigners, the outcast and the indebted, all of whom still have a little voice in our society today.

About children, though, Jesus had this to say:

The people brought children to Jesus, hoping he might touch them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus was irate and let them know it: "Don’t push these children away. Don’t ever get between them and me. These children are at the very center of life in the kingdom. Mark this: Unless you accept God’s kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you’ll never get in." Then, gathering the children up in his arms, he laid his hands of blessing on them.

Mark 10

We should love to have the little voices at the centre of the kingdom too.

Blessings #168 – Listening

I’m part of the headphones generation. I rarely travel anywhere without a set of them somewhere about my person. I have multiple pairs of them, there’s the ones I wear when I want to cancel out the rest of the world, there’s another pair I wear when it’s important to hear some level of background noise. When I work from home there’s nearly always music playing.

All of this noise – but I’m not really listening.

Recently I’ve been trying to learn how to listen, really listen.

Listen to the humming sound that my home makes when no-one is home. Hearing the central heating awaken and go back to sleep. There’s always a click from the radiator in the kitchen a few seconds after it starts up.

Listen to the rustling sound that the hawthorn hedge at the bottom of my garden makes when it’s windy. And when it’s really windy the sound of next-doors silver birch rubbing against the fence between the two gardens.

Listen to my breathing (panting) as I cycle to work. Hearing how it changes from street to street and hill to hill.

Listen to the different tone of my footsteps as I walk around the woods. Squelch, squelch, tramp, tramp, squelch (at the moment).

Listen to the rhythm of my fingers on the keyboard as I type. And the click of the mouse as I run it around the desk.

It’s amazing what you can hear when you listen. I’ve been trying to savour this mundane sounds.

I have to be honest though, the sounds of the washing machine still drives me mad.

If listening sounds like a terribly dull thing to you perhaps this talk will inspire and challenge you:

http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf

Blessings #167 – Hot Feet on Cool Damp Grass

It’s been warm here today and I’ve been in the office in my shoes and socks.

Whenever it’s warm the part of me that feels it the most are my feet. Sometimes they sometimes feel like they are on fire.

Kilchurn CastleThe day ended warm, but was rounded off with heavy showers.

My feet feel particularly fiery when I’ve been standing for a while. So this evening after a period of standing I made my way outside, kicked off my sandals and enjoyed the lush cool dampness of the lawn at the back of our house.

In the cartoons there are times when people get set on fire that they run off to the nearest water bucket, sit inside and steam.

As I wandered around the garden this evening my feet felt the same way, like they were steaming as they cooled. But it wasn’t just my feet that was cooled, my whole body felt refreshed by the experience.

There is something about the temperature and texture of a damp lawn that is better than anything else for cooling tired feet. It’s almost like it was designed for that purpose.

It was lovely.

The Bible tells of a couple of events where Jesus had his feet washed, and one where he washed everyone else’s feet.

I’m sure that it felt just as lovely, but much more significant because of the meaning of what was happening:

Just before the Passover Feast, Jesus knew that the time had come to leave this world to go to the Father. Having loved his dear companions, he continued to love them right to the end. It was suppertime. The Devil by now had Judas, son of Simon the Iscariot, firmly in his grip, all set for the betrayal.

Jesus knew that the Father had put him in complete charge of everything, that he came from God and was on his way back to God. So he got up from the supper table, set aside his robe, and put on an apron. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the feet of the disciples, drying them with his apron. When he got to Simon Peter, Peter said, "Master, you wash my feet?"

Jesus answered, "You don’t understand now what I’m doing, but it will be clear enough to you later."

Peter persisted, "You’re not going to wash my feet—ever!"

Jesus said, "If I don’t wash you, you can’t be part of what I’m doing."

"Master!" said Peter. "Not only my feet, then. Wash my hands! Wash my head!"

Jesus said, "If you’ve had a bath in the morning, you only need your feet washed now and you’re clean from head to toe. My concern, you understand, is holiness, not hygiene. So now you’re clean. But not every one of you." (He knew who was betraying him. That’s why he said, "Not every one of you.") After he had finished washing their feet, he took his robe, put it back on, and went back to his place at the table.

Then he said, "Do you understand what I have done to you? You address me as ‘Teacher’ and ‘Master,’ and rightly so. That is what I am. So if I, the Master and Teacher, washed your feet, you must now wash each other’s feet. I’ve laid down a pattern for you. What I’ve done, you do. I’m only pointing out the obvious. A servant is not ranked above his master; an employee doesn’t give orders to the employer. If you understand what I’m telling you, act like it—and live a blessed life.

John 13

Blessings #166 – Shared Experiences

Last weekend the Chastney family joined with the family of friends for a picnic at a nature resave that’s recently opened near our home.

BrockholesAfter a good while eating the usual al-fresco food as we sat at the tables near to the play area we decided to take a stroll around some of the paths.

We set off through some woods, across some grasslands and around some ponds. We stood for a while as a Skylark sang to us from a dizzy height. We then took a path down towards the river Ribble. It was a scorching hot day (for England) so we meandered along the river until we came to a point where we could get down to the water. Paddling and skimming followed – then into the middle of the fun someone shouted out “Kingfisher”.

This single word turned our afternoon into a whole different experience.

Eyes immediately scanned the line of the river in expectation of a blue flash. Adults and children alike were transfixed. Like Meerkats looking for danger we were all alert and focussed in the same direction.

I’ve only ever seen Kingfisher as a flash of colour coming into view and leaving just as quickly.

What we experienced that day was much more than that.

There were a pair of Kingfisher who flew from tree to tree along the opposite riverbank. They sat in full view on perches as they scanned the water below for potential food. We even watched them diving into the water and retrieving fish glistening silver in the sun.

The two pairs of binoculars that we had with us were passed up and down the line as together we tried to make sure that we didn’t loose the objects of our focus amongst the foliage.

As we stood there on the riverbank others came to ask us what we’d seen and the sharing broadened.

There are all sorts of events in my life that I treasure but I’m struggling to remember any that I experienced alone. All of the best experiences have been shared experiences and the very best have been experienced with those that I love.

In the Bible the book of Acts tells of the events that happened during the early days of the church. In the middle of this book is a definition of togetherness and community that most people would regard as an ideal:

The whole congregation of believers was united as one—one heart, one mind! They didn’t even claim ownership of their own possessions. No one said, "That’s mine; you can’t have it." They shared everything.

Acts 4:32

Shared experiences give a glimpse of why we are built for community and not for isolation.

(No pictures I’m afraid, my camera battery was dead. Emily took some wonderful pictures, but she hasn’t posted them yet)

(Update: I did have a picture, but from a previous visit.)

Blessings #165 – Cycling (to work)

When I was younger I had a paper-round and like many people I used a bike.

Kilchurn CastleThere were all sorts of bikes, I even used a bike that had been my Mum’s. I fell out with that particular bike when it’s front wheel locked up one day, throwing me in the air and leaving me with a nice scar in my side.

I’ve no idea why I blame the bike because the incident was completely my fault. If I’d tied my shoelaces properly they would have got stuck in the spokes.

There was a certain fashion to the paper-round boys at that time. We fancied ourselves as real bikers (not cyclist, but bikers). In the winter we wore large leather gloves that came half way up our forearms. Our bikes had to have large cow-horn handle-bars. We would imagine ourselves twisting the handle-bars, with the noise levels rising as the revs kicked in and we floated away into the distance.

It was, of course, a fantasy. The only way that I was going anywhere was through my own power as my legs turned the peddles. Wobbly peddles, riding on worn our bearings, pulling a squeaky chain, through a misaligned derailleur, onto a wheel with even more worn out bearings, to drive a wheel buckled by too many abrupt meetings with curbs.

On one particular occasion this collection of engineering mismanagement nearly cost me my life. I was peddling along (I’d like to say’ powering along’ but I don’t think I was ever that boisterous) when I decided that I needed more speed to manoeuvre around a stationary car.

I stood up on the peddles and pushed hard. As I stamped down the chain bounced off the gears and my stamp met no resistance. The combination of forced flipped the bike from underneath me.

Kilchurn CastleAs the bike wrapped itself around me the two of us fell to the ground in a crumpled heap in the middle of the road. With my head on the tarmac I opened my eyes to see the number plate of a double-decker approaching fast and breaking hard. The fact that I am writing this is testament to the responses of the driver and has ability to bring his vehicle under control.

The wide handlebars may have made us feel cool but they were useless when it came to delivering the papers to the alms houses down the narrow alleyway that ran alongside the local common-land.

The large leather gloves were useless for handling the papers and just sucked up the water in the rain.

It didn’t matter what the weather was – the papers needed delivering.

The last house on my normal round was to one of the alms houses. It was there that every morning I received a welcome smile from the elderly couple who lived there.

I’ve been reminded of these events recently. Following a rather thin cycling history since those days I’ve recently been pressing the peddles as a method of getting to work.

These events are part of my heritage and occupy a scene in my story. Each of us is, in many respects, the combination of these events, our stories create our history which forms our heritage.

As a father I see that part of my role is to help to build similar memories for my children. I’m very thankful that I can look back on my history and see many enjoyable occasions and I’d love my kids to have the same heritage.

My cycle to work is quite different to my paper-round experience. I have the luxury of choosing when I go in. If it’s too windy or too wet I can choose to take the car. I’ve purchased the bike through a scheme at work which means that it’s a nice new bike which I’m endeavouring to look after.

All-in-all it’s a much more enjoyable experience.

Blessings #164 – A Story about a word

Stories can have a number of beginnings, but this story starts in a very traditional way, a homely way, a familiar way. Some of the best stories do.

Once upon a time, in a land not that far from here a Servant middling-in-age was walking along with his Master. They often walked this way, but not as often as the Servant would like.

During a day of unfamiliar weather the Master turned to the Servant and said – “I have a treasure for you to find”

“I treasure, really” said the Servant excitedly “what kind of a treasure”.

“This is no ordinary treasure” said the Master “it is not gold, or silver. It’s not even made of precious stones, but it is beyond all worldly wealth. No one could buy this treasure and keep it to themselves.”

Excited by the thought the Servant was now beaming from ear to ear. All sorts of thoughts were flashing through his mind – what kind of treasure could this be?

The Master continued “This treasure is small, very small actually, and yet is great in stature”

The Servant’s heart sank a little. He didn’t really like guessing games. His wife liked guessing games, but they just made him feel a bit dim.

The Master wasn’t playing guessing games though; he was talking about an adventure, a voyage, a discovery.

And so the Master continued “This treasure is already in plain view; it’s out in the open for everyone to see. Be careful though, sometimes it’s not really the treasure at all that’s there, sometimes it’s fools treasure.”

This still sounded like a guessing game to the Servant and he was feeling a bit dim.

The Master knew his thoughts and so he started to make himself very plain indeed “The treasure that I am giving you is a word. Only a small word, but a mighty and powerful word. I will reveal this word to you in a new way and write it into your heart. You’ll see this word in places you’ve never seen before and it will shout out at you. When it doesn’t shout, be careful because it’s not the real word, it’s a foolish use of this mighty word when people really mean a smaller easier more cosy word.” And still the Master continued “This word is also an unforgiving word, it doesn’t allow compromise and you certainly can’t shrink it or put it in your pocket.”

The servant wondered when it was going to stop being a guessing game and turn into something else.

At the moment the Servant had a panic “What if I do forget the word, what if I lose the treasure?”

The Master concluded “The treasured word that I am giving you is fortunately very easy to remember. Let me spell it for you, are you ready: The first letter is A as in Apple, the second is L as in Lion and the third is the same as the second”

“A.L.L -’All’ is that it. A.L.L.” thought the Servant to himself, he was far too polite to speak it out, even though he knew the Master could read his mind.

In due course the Servant did indeed see the treasure and it was in plain view so why hadn’t he seen it before?

And so the walk ended and the journey began.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1

Blessings #163 – Garden Pottering

Today I had enough time to potter in the garden.

I love that word – potter.

So much of life has a tightly defined plan and we can spend our lives trying to fit all of the things that need to be done into the time available.

Sometimes the schedule can take the joy out of the task at hand.

Pottering is different, it allows us to take the time to enjoy the task.

One of my favourite places to potter is the garden. There’s always something to do in a garden. I bit of potting on here, some weeding there, some trimming over here, some rearranging around there and you feel like you’ve achieved something.

Pottering is always better when you also feel like you’ve achieved something – gardens are wonderful for a sense of achievement.