James’s Blog: Rubbish.

James’s Blog: Rubbish.

Ruth and I have very different ideas on ‘stuff’. She thinks that if it’s not being used, and is just lying around making the place look untidy, then chuck it out. I think that if it’s not being used, and is just lying around making the place look untidy, then leave it alone. It’s not hurting anyone.

My parents were happy when I moved out. They turned up on my doorstep with cardboard boxes full of stuff I’d left in their attic. Boxes of things like cinema ticket stubs, old posters and last year’s exam papers. Basically, boxes full of fire hazards.

When we got married, Ruth said, “You don’t need that stuff. Get rid of it.” I stood my ground, because I knew that a day would come when she desperately needed to know the name of a film I had seen at the cinema ten years previously, and then I’d be laughing.

But that day never came, and now it’s all gone. It’s not the first time my wife has been right about something, and it won’t be the last.

You throw out stuff that you don’t need, but you don’t throw out the useful, shiny stuff. I’m sure we’ve all got stories of people we know, on their hands and knees, going through the bin because they think that they threw away the receipt or the money from a birthday card or some other good thing that they didn’t mean to lose. No-one deliberately throws away good things. Well, as Fred Craddock once suggested, no-one except Paul of course.

Whatever was to my profit, he told the Philippians, I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.

He was talking about all the useful, shiny stuff he had. His academic achievements, his hard work, his A+ credentials. You don’t need that stuff. Get rid of it.

That’s the thing about following Jesus. No-one bats an eyelid if you say, “I used to lie, cheat and steal. I used to say really hurtful things to people. I used to throw bricks through people’s windows if I didn’t like them. But now I am a Christian and I consider all of that rubbish compared to the greatness of knowing Christ.” No-one is going to object to that. That’s what religion is for.

But if you say, “I used to work hard at my job. I made good money. I was a valuable and productive member of my community. But now I am a Christian and I consider all of that rubbish compared to the greatness of knowing Christ.”? Well, that’s the kind of thing that raises eyebrows. That’s the kind of thing that gets bricks thrown through your window.

Once again, we must consider what it really means to follow Jesus. It’s not just the boxes of old exam papers that are fire hazards now. You have to be prepared to consider it all, everything, rubbish compared to the greatness of knowing Christ. It doesn’t matter how shiny and impressive it is. It doesn’t matter that it took you years to collect. You don’t need that stuff. Get rid of it.

But who among us has the courage to do that?

James’s Blog: Soul Jar.

James’s Blog:  Soul Jar.
The soul is like a jar.  It’s probably made of clay.  God seems to have a thing for clay. Sometimes you go to someone’s soul jar and it’s empty.  You look at the person, and you see the bitterness etched on his face and you roll your eyes.  Words spring to mind: small-minded, tiny-hearted, empty soul.  No wonder, you think, that this soul jar is empty.  He is mean, wicked, horrible and anything poured into that jar would turn into vinegar the moment that it splashed against the sides. But it doesn’t work like that.  The jar is not empty because of bitterness, but rather there is bitterness because the jar is empty. Let me explain. I watch a child dancing with breathless joy in the morning, while the world around me shouts “Fire and Fury!” and I think, She doesn’t understand and that’s why she dances.  But then God taps me on the shoulder and says, “No, James, she does understand, and that’s why she dances.  You may have lost your way for a moment.” The jar starts full, but a swift kick here and a rough push there and a crack will show, and if we don’t attend to it then the soul starts to leak out.  If we don’t watch those chips and fractures then we’ll dry out.  It might take years, but it’ll happen. “And it’s not just your jar, James,” says God.  “You know what Fred Craddock says the rule for all big families is, don’t you?” “Yes, God,” I reply.  “The older ones help the younger ones.” “Good.  Now fix your jar, and I can always top it up for you.  And when you see someone else in danger of leaking out all over the place, you know what to do, don’t you?” “Yes, God,” I say.  “The older ones help the younger ones.” How’s your jar? How about the jars to your left and right? Don’t just watch the treasure leak out.

James’s Blog: Writers Wot Have Influenced Me – Part 3 of 4

James’s Blog:  Writers Wot Have Influenced Me – Part 3 of 4

Fred Craddock.

I’m cheating a little bit here. Fred Craddock has influenced me not so much by what he has written, but rather by the way that he has said what he has said.

I hadn’t heard of the diminutive American pastor until my preaching classes at Spurgeon’s college, where we were exposed to one of his uniquely crafted sermons. For me, it was love at first sight…well, at first hearing anyway. He was, beyond doubt, one of the greatest preachers of the twentieth century, and many of you have probably never even heard of him.

There’s a collection of his sermons (The Cherry Log Sermons), the style of which I slavishly attempted to emulate for my long-suffering congregation during my later years at Hayward’s Heath, but it’s the volume Craddock Stories that has shaped my own writing. The book is a collection of stories that Fred used in some of his sermons over the years, and they’re fantastic. Not just the stories, but the way that they are told and the truth that is drawn from them. Fantastic. He tells countless anecdotes from his rich life, but if he ever lacked a suitable story he would just make one up. I don’t mean “Did I ever tell you about the time I had dinner with the Archbishop of Canterbury…” made-up, I mean a skilfully constructed parable of the imagination made-up . Let me give you an example:

I remember one night, sitting in a little rural church on a Sunday night. It was a summer meeting, so it was hot, and the window was open beside my pew. The minister was preaching on his favourite text, “Be not the first by whom the new is tried, because a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and it’s better to be safe than sorry, because fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”

I was listening to him drone away when a man came by the church building and stopped by the window and said, “Psst, psst.”

I said, “What is it? I’m listening to the sermon.”
He said, “Come with me.”
I said, “Where are you going?”
He said, “I know where there is a pearl of great price that’s more valuable than all the other pearls in the world.”
I said, “There’s no such thing.”
He said, “In fact, where I’m going, there is treasure buried in a field.”
I said, “You’re kidding!”
He said, “Where I’m going, bums are invited to sit down at the king’s table.”
I said, “That’s ridiculous.”
He said, “In fact, they give great big parties for prodigals who come home.”
I said, “That’s stupid.”

Well, I listened to the rest of the sermon and after it was over, I told the preacher about how I was disturbed and that I hoped it didn’t upset him during the sermon.

He said, “Who was that?”
I said, “I don’t know. Telling me all this fancy stuff.”
He said, “Well, was he getting anybody?”
And I said, “Well, none of our crowd went, but I noticed he had about twelve with him.”

I had never heard anything like this before, at least not in a sermon, and therein lies Craddock’s influence on me. Stories make good sermons all by themselves but imaginative stories make powerful sermons. Let us try harder than to just pull out the same tired old illustrations that have been doing the preaching rounds since year one. Let us let our imaginations run rampant. Why should the devil have all the good flights of fancy?

Of the four writers that I am mentioning in this blog series, Craddock has had the most blatant impact on The Listening Book. There would probably be no book if it weren’t for him. It contains more than one tale where I am self-consciously trying to ape his style of storytelling. Hopefully you won’t be able to spot them! I’m finding my own voice now, but I don’t want to ever forget the influence that Fred Craddock had on me.

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