James’s Blog: God in a Box.

James’s Blog: God in a Box.

I’ve been making my way through the account of Jesus’ life found in Mark’s Gospel recently, and though serendipity I ended up reading the Passion narrative during the week leading up to Christmas. The Resurrection arrived on Christmas day itself.

On Christmas Eve I was struck by the comparison offered in Mark 15:42-47. The season demanded that we remember the Christ being placed gently in the manger by his parents, and there I was reading about how another Joseph placed him gently in a tomb carved from rock.

Neither could hold him of course. He grew too big for the manger, and grew too alive for the tomb.

Such is the way of Jesus. He will not be ‘placed’ anywhere for too long. He cannot be held, trapped, nailed down, cornered, pinned, ensnared, bound, boxed in or bottled up. You may as well try and glue the sea in place. We may be more comfortable if he stays in the manger, the gentle spirit of Christmas goodwill, but he will refuse your kind offer of accommodation, and wander off somewhere, life and mayhem following in his wake. Despite all the trouble he’s caused me at times, he is without a doubt my favourite person ever. And despite all the trouble I’ve caused him, he seems quite fond of me too.

So when the Messiah who won’t sit still sticks his head through your doorway and says, “I’m going out for a while. Fancy a walk?” what can you do? What can you say to that kind of invitation?

James’s Blog: Another Advent Poem.

James’s Blog:  Another Advent Poem.

There were no lights, no holly and the ivy;

no red-breasted robin to sing in festivity;

no cheer of any sort to warm the cold winters;

no berry red Santa bringing sacks of presents,

only blood red legionaries, bringing Pax (with blades)

and the hungry hoping that it wouldn’t snow.

 

And after all no ear did hear his coming,

because we only listen to music that we like,

and no eye did witness the raging storm

of heaven contained within tiny feet and hands,

for sometimes the first line of a poem

is best when it can only be whispered.

 

So into this absent-minded world of winter

(that tells itself lies to keep the dark dreams at bay),

came a mustard seed shaped Christmas,

that didn’t end with an angel or a star on a tree,

and the hat that was worn for this main event

you wouldn’t get from pulling any crackers.

 

And into this absent-minded world of winter

(that tells itself lies to keep the dark dreams at bay),

how silently, how silently,

the wondrous truth bomb is dropped,

and God imparts to human hearts

the blessings of dark dreams stopped.

James’s Blog: Treasure Hunt.

James’s Blog:  Treasure Hunt.

(A serious thought became this not-so-serious poem. I’m not sure that the ten-syllables per line experiment really works, nor am I totally thrilled with the rhyme in the last verse, but it’ll do.)

Have you ever discovered something big

hidden away in a minuscule place?

Maybe something obvious, but more like

a raindrop that’s reflecting a child’s face.

We’re used to seeing small things in the big,

like grains of sand hidden amongst a beach,

or the grains of truth buried deep, hidden

within a major politician’s speech.

What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever noticed

hidden away inside something that’s small?

An elephant in a matchbox, perhaps,

or maybe nothing that silly at all?

As for me, I bet I’ve got you all beat,

for I had the most magnificent find.

You see, today I found the universe

in a scrap of bread and a sip of wine.

James’s Blog: The Son who Walked.

James’s Blog:  The Son who Walked.

The disciple sat down, cross-legged and attentive, at his master’s feet.

“Teach me,” he said.

“Let me tell you a story,” said the master.

“There was once a man who had two sons. The eldest son was clever and handsome, while the youngest son lacked all of his brother’s gifts. However, being clever and handsome does not necessarily make you a nice person. The older brother teased his younger brother mercilessly, mocking him for his lack of intellect and good looks. The younger brother didn’t always understand his older brother’s jokes, but he knew when he was being made fun of, and he tired of this quite quickly.”

“One day the younger brother decided that he’d had enough, and that he was going to take his belongings and leave home. ‘I’m going to just walk and see where my feet take me,’ he said, and off he went.”

“So, on the first day, he just walked in a straight line. But something strange began to happen. He was amazed to see that, as he passed, the animals of the forest were leaving their woodland homes to follow him.”

“On the second day, he kept walking, and the trees of the forest began to uproot and join the animals following him.”

“On the third day, he kept walking. As night fell, he noticed that the moon and the stars in the sky were also following him. Why was this?”

“I don’t know,” the disciple said.

The master smiled.

“These days, you don’t need charisma or intellect. You don’t even need to know where you’re going. These days, if you just look like you’re walking with purpose, the whole world will follow you.”

James’s Blog: Three Years a Blogger.

James’s Blog: Three Years a Blogger.

Blogging is not rocket science (unless you’re a rocket scientist who’s blogging about rocket science), but even the simplest things can take their toll over a prolonged period. It’s been three years now. Three years. Three years of tapping away each week on my keyboard and releasing something into the cyberwild. At times it feels like pitching rocks into a river on a dark night – there may be ripples, but there’s no way of telling. Unless you can see in the dark – maybe with some kind of night vision goggles. I don’t know, this simile is getting away from me. Read more

James’s Blog: Cold-Calling.

James’s Blog: Cold-Calling.

I recently had a chat on my doorstep with two Jehovah’s Witnesses (has anyone ever had a chat with a Jehovah’s Witness that wasn’t on a doorstep?). They were two perfectly nice friendly men with smiles that had only the vaguest hint of plasticness. There was a younger fellow (the Trainee) who asked most of the questions, and an older fellow (the Trainer) who interjected to steer the conversation back on track when I wasn’t playing ball. Well, I say it was a ‘conversation’, but… Read more

James’s Blog: A Week in the Life of…

James’s Blog:  A Week in the Life of…

On Monday God gave me some grace.

I squandered it on something. I don’t even remember what it was now.

 

On Tuesday God gave me some grace.

I put it in a cupboard somewhere and forgot about it. It’s probably still there.

 

On Wednesday God gave me some grace.

I told myself that it wasn’t such a big deal if I went off somewhere and did whatever I wanted, because Read more

James’s Blog: The Wind and the Waves.

James’s Blog: The Wind and the Waves.

The wind and the waves crashed against the sides of the boat, so frail out there in the middle of the dark sea all by itself. Keeping steady footing was impossible, and keeping a steady head even harder.

And as the crew huddled together and screamed and wept and wished it were all a dream, The Man slept the sleep of the righteous, undisturbed and unafraid, the fury of nature powerless to break his peace. Read more

James’s Blog: Alone in the Dark?

James’s Blog: Alone in the Dark?

I’m currently working on a project where one of the main characters has to make her way through an underground cavern where there was no light. She was supposed to feel her way through the darkness, towards the exit. It marks something of a transition for the character, like all clumsy overused metaphors in stories do. But a strange thing happened while I was writing the scene. I threw in a line that just felt right and it totally changed things. You see, it turned out that she wasn’t alone in the cavern. She was supposed to be alone, but the story wasn’t happy with that. It turned out that, in the blackness, she wasn’t alone, and that made things much more interesting. Read more

James’s Blog: Seven Thoughts for Preachers.

James’s Blog: Seven Thoughts for Preachers.

1) The Bible contains poetry, exposition, theological analysis, parables, historical accounts, song and more. Valid styles of preaching are just as varied; a.k.a. The “More than one way to skin a cat” Principle. Read more

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