Clickity clickity clickity click. Michael’s hands rolled across the keyboard like an express train. On the screen in front of him the numbers spontaneously appeared in the grid. Cause and effect. Read more
James’s Blog: The Little Things.
gratitude
James’s Blog: Sometimes, the Niceness is the Point…
Today I am repenting of my bad memory. I had allowed myself to forget something important.
I had not forgotten that God is kind, or that He is generous, or that He loves me. No, it was something else. Read more
James’s Blog: You are Contagious.
I’m going to take a blog break for a couple of weeks over the summer, starting after this post. This is the first break I’ve taken since I started in 2015, so I don’t feel guilty at all. I’m going to leave you with a thought, something you can mull over while I’m off-line, and then we’ll pick up with business as usual in a couple of weeks. OK? Good.
The thought is this: you are contagious.
Don’t worry. So am I. Read more
James’s Blog: A Typical Morning.
Reid has already left for school with his mum, while Calvin sleeps on in his GCSE-free zone. Xanthe is somewhere in the house, killing time by listening to music at a volume level chosen for the purpose of agitating her younger brother. I ask Parker about his homework. He declares in a loud voice that he needs some alone time and marches out into the garden. Imogen, sitting at the table munching on her cereal, doesn’t even look up from her book. Read more
James’s Blog: The Overachiever.
For many years I’ve been haunted by the spectre of underachievement. I’ve been convinced that I should have got more done by now; made more of a difference; that I’ve fallen well short of my potential. I’ve spent large chunks of my life frustrated with myself. It’s a form of perfectionism that has, at times, both motivated me and made me miserable. Read more
James’s Blog: An Advent Poem.
There are those who think it odd,
that you came as man and not as God.
A God would make things right
with shows of power, glory and might.
A God would shake the stage,
smiting evil-doers with holy rage.
A God, you see, will get things done.
A baby can’t. He needs his mum.
A baby is no use to us;
a baby screams and makes a fuss.
A baby doesn’t clear up mess,
solve problems, or bring progress.
But as for us, we’re not so hot,
we’re babies too, don’t pretend we’re not.
We need to scream, need a nappy,
we need our toys to make us happy.
We haven’t grown up in years,
so only a baby could share our tears.
We’re still learning how to crawl,
so I’m just thankful you came at all.
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: For The Quiet Ones.
I was sad to hear that Hayward’s Heath Baptist Church has lost another faithful servant. Les Ridd, another who served on the leadership team with me, died at the end of last week. Like Dick, he had been ill for a while, but it doesn’t make it easier.
I was thinking about Les and Dick, and what they gifted to the church, and found it simplest to put my thoughts down into one of my occasional not-poem things.
There are plenty of noisy servants.
“Where there are many words,” said the Teacher,
“sin is not far behind.”
(Loud men and women, we know who we are)
Many words booming from the pulpit,
or clattering onto the page
like a skip full of scrap metal.
“I tell you the truth,” says Jesus.
“They have received their reward in full.”
But there are also the quiet servants,
whom you have never heard,
and will maybe never even see,
(certainly not in a photo on the back of a book)
doing what they do on tiptoe.
Stacking chairs, cutting and sticking with children,
giving lifts and clearing out guttering silently in the background.
“I tell you the truth,” says Jesus.
“For them, the best is yet to come.”
James’s Blog: In Memory of Dick Vesey.
As I sit here and type this I genuinely feel like the world is a poorer place. I don’t think I’ve ever known a calmer presence and a more gentle gentleman than Dick. Some eventful things happened to the Veseys over the years, but I don’t need many fingers to keep track of the number of times I’d seen Dick anything other than serene and unruffled. I don’t often write about my time at Hayward’s Heath, but you shouldn’t read anything into that. It’s been a key part of my journey so far, and I am thankful for the experiences that I had there, and very thankful for the people that I met and worked with. The leadership team at the church was a fantastic group, and that included Dick, the ubiquitous elder, first at Sussex Road and then at Harlands.
Dick and Hilary have been generous and supportive of our family over the years. It was Dick, with his giant pastoral heart, who took it upon himself to keep me informed about the people whom we loved, and who loved us, back in Hayward’s Heath while we were sunning ourselves in Australia. At Hayward’s Heath, I was blessed to be in a church that sometimes tolerated but often appreciated my experiments in preaching, but in writing this I have realised that Dick was probably one of the most ardent supporters of my pulpit adventures. I don’t want anyone to feel left out, but when I think about the people who were most encouraging and positive as I wrestled with my gifting, Dick is one of the first faces to come to mind.
As is often the case, heaven’s gain is our loss. We will meet again, but in the meantime we carry on. This is what it means to be the church of Christ, the body of battling believers striving to bring the Kingdom to the Now, but dreaming of the Not Yet.
James’s Blog: My Wife.
There was a very small window when Ruth was the more prominent one in our relationship. We were newly married and she got involved with the worship group at church, while I sat in the pew saying and doing nothing worthy of notice. In those days I was known as ‘Ruth’s husband’. Eventually I began preaching, and even ended up working for the church for a few months, so that was the end of that. Since those days Ruth has mostly been ‘James’ wife’. Read more
