I have been asked to post this, which is the outline of a sermon I preached last week based on Matthew 16:13-20
Who do you say I am?
Who are you?
• What you look like – who is happy with what they look like?
• What you do or did for a job? How much you earn – never enough it seems
• Where you come from? Nationality
• Your name?
• What you have achieved – record A level results again this year
• Ethnicity, gender, age, ability...
Is there a difference between I and ME? (reflection on the work of George Herbert Mead)
2 constituents; the body as “thing” and the “stream of consciousness”.
The body can be observed as a thing, existing in the world, it can be measured, weighed etc Remember occasions when I have slept awkwardly, cutting of the blood supply to my arm and awoken to find that it has “gone to sleep”. There is a loss of sensation, I can still move it but cannot feel the movements. If I touch my face with it I can feel my face being touched but I cannot feel my hand touching it. It is as though I am no longer subjectively involved with my arm, it is a thing that exists in the world; this is part of what comprises “me”.
The other aspect of “me” is my “stream of consciousness”, the succession of events, ideas and experiences that I call from memory out of my past. This too has a “thinglike” quality and I can tell you about “me”, what goes through my mind, what things give “me” pleasure, what things hurt “me”. You cannot see this aspect of “me” directly, but I can, and I can tell you all about “me” in the same way that I can talk about my body. This aspect of “me” cannot be measured but I can still view it as an object.
So “me” as the repository of all the objective information of my existence. Every thought, feeling, idea, every event or encounter in my life are gathered together to establish “me” as a person in the world, and all of it, if I wish, can be known objectively.
Mead wants us to understand that the self is a process of interaction between the objective “me” and the subjective “I”. I am aware that “I” can describe “me”, I can look at me and observe me. I can see the changes in me as I grow older or develop skills but I also know that “I” am the same. If I meet a teacher from school whom I have not encountered for 15 years everything about “me” has changed, I am older, heavier, wrinklier, my beliefs have changed, my associations, hobbies, job have changed; but “I” am the same “Mark Gilborson” who she taught all those years ago. I could go on to describe everything that has happened to “me” in great detail, what I thought, where I had been, who I loved and who loved me. But after I had told him all there was to tell about “me” “I” have evaded him. The “I” that described “me” has remained estranged and alienated because “I” cannot be known as an object “I” am not a thing. In a sense “I” can play with “me”, I can think what it would be like to be you, to think your thoughts, live your life in your body. Perhaps in a state of mental illness “I” may choose to be Napoleon because “I” am free to be anything “I” choose. In great contrast everything about “me” is set in stone of the history of the past.
“I” do not exist in the past or even in the future “I” exist now and now is not a part of time, now is the non-existent point that separates the past from the future; the next second is not now, even the next millionth of a second is not now. Now has no extension in time, yet I know that now exists because that is where “I” am. Immanuel Kant in his Critique of pure reason wrote “nothing is more real and existential than the now in which I live” and yet he senses that now is not a segment in the flow of history.
I am unable to tell you what “I” am thinking, because when I have told you, in the process of reflection, my thoughts have become part of my past and I have told you what “I” was thinking when you asked me. I sense that everything about “me” evolves, changes and decays, but “I” remain an unchanged essence. I cannot prove that “I” will exist when you bury “me” but as I consider this I sense that as “I” live in the now, that “I” will always exist because now always is. ...
Jesus says to Peter ‘who do you say I am?’
Not what do you say I have done, or look like or will achieve, not my age or ethnicity or gender – something MUCH deeper – who am I?
Jesus waits – he doesn’t ask him this at the start of their relationship – he allows him to get to know him before asking the question.
What has happened before this question?
Well interestingly immediately before this Jesus is again hassled by the Pharisees and Sadducees as they test him by asking for a sign from heaven – Jesus effectively refuses, haven’t they seen enough already? Of course not they haven’t gotten to know him, but what has Peter seen?
• Peter sees how Jesus values him, a lowly fisherman, when he is called to
follow and in that Peter see that he has a new purpose.
• Peter see healing after healing, power that is extraordinary and life
changing
• Peter hears Jesus speak in a revolutionary way as he witnesses the sermon on
the mount
• Peter sees Jesus at prayer, wanting to be with his Father
• He hears Jesus teach ‘do not worry’ and ‘do not judge others’
• He hears of wise and foolish builders, sees the calming of the storm and is
reminded of the considerable cost of following Jesus.
• He is there when Jairus’ daughter is brought back to life and the blind and
mute and deaf healed.
• Peter is one of the disciple commissioned to go and tell of the kingdom and
work miracles in God’s name
• Peter hears parables of untold wisdom, miraculous feeding of thousands.
• Peter tries, and fails to walk on the water
• He experiences the faith of the Roman centurion and the Canaanite woman
And after all this – Jesus asks him – ‘who do YOU say I am ‘
I am not the things I have done, good or bad, nor what I look like, or do, or where I have been.
How would you describe yourself?
These are some of the ways the Bible describes you as - You are amazing – you are:
Psalm 139:14 – you are fearfully and wonderfully made
John 1:12 – a child of God
1 Cor 12:27 – a member of Christ’s body
1 Cor 6:20 – you have been bought with a price WHY?
Zech 2:8 – God’s people are the ‘apple of his eye’
Sunday 28 August 2011
Sunday 31 July 2011
Wrestling with God
Well I am about to go on holiday and decided that today's sermon might also be today's blog. Little to do with running other than running is one of the things that I wrestle with. If you don;t want to read you can listen, I have included a link to something new that we are trying - sermons by podcast!
http://web.me.com/andrew.m.jackson/Wonford_Methodist_Church_Podcasts/Podcast/Entries/2011/7/31_Rev_Mark_Gilborson_-_31st_July_2011.html
Wrestling with God - Genesis 32:22-31
Saturday afternoons – with Grandad, pipe smoke, black and white TV, tea made with sterilised milk, chips from the chip shop – wrestling on the telly – Big daddy, the dynamite kid, the masked Kendo Nagasaki, giant Haystacks to name but a few.
On a Sunday afternoon the wrestling moves would be practiced on my dad on the lounge floor: the Boston crab, drop kick, full and half Nelson, well I say practiced, thankfully the moves were never executed properly, no one actually got injured – yet there is that close contact something enjoyed by parent and child throughout the generations. I can even say that I won on occasions though at the age of 7 I think my father may have let me win!
If you look at the history of wrestling you will see that it is as old as the hills dating more the 15000 years depicted in caves paintings, mentioned in ancient literature and portrayed in stone bronze. There is something, almost instinctive about pitting one person’s strength against another, often just for fun or sport. Indeed at next year’s Olympics there will be 344 athletes, some of them women competing with 18 medals up for grabs – literally by wrestling.
Today’s lectionary reading gives us a puzzling picture of Jacob who literally wrestles with God. Throughout history so much has been written about this ancient story. For those who are reading the Bible in a year, it was one of the early stories, those of us doing the DISCIPLE course have encountered it too. When we read the OT or Hebrew Bible there are many texts that we have to wrestle with, we have to tussle with, until we hear God’s voice and receive God’s blessing not just in our understanding but also in the process of working hard – wrestling.
For Jacob here is a story of tenacity, a never give up, a do or die, grappling that lasted until daybreak, an exhausting clinch between Jacob and God, human and divine. We read that Jacob did leave with the blessing that he held out for yet in that process, in that battle there was injury, for Jacob left with a mark, he would always be reminded of that day as he literally limped away.
It seems that Jacob wrestled for much of his life, he actually starting wrestling before he was born - with Esau in his mother’s womb Gen 25:22 says ‘the children struggled together’ Jacob lost that battle to be born first but he didn’t give up, he held onto his brother’s heel, grappling till the last. He wrestled with his family again cheating his father and gaining his brother’s inheritance. He then Wrestled with Laban in search of the hand of Rachel, of course later he gets a taste of his own medicine struggling to keep his own sons in order!
But what can Jacob’s wrestling with God say to us today?
As I speak now not even ten days have passed since that appalling event in Norway. One of the most difficult questions we face as Christians in today’s world is ‘why does God let evil happen’, the technical term is ‘theodicy’ – is God unable to act in the face of such evil or if he is able is he willing? It seems that as I have read more and more of the Hebrew Bible in recent weeks that I see a God desperate to teach his children that there is a better way, if only they would listen to his voice, if only they would follow his ways, if only they would seek his face if only... It seems as though it is when we think we know best, when we make our reasoning, our rationale, our stomachs, our love lives, our ambition, our bank balances – when we make these our Gods that the order God created is shifted and things go awry.
As we wrestle with the knowledge of this event in Norway, the murder of innocents, that face of inhumanity - what sense might we ever make of such an atrocity? We know that this will leave a scar on the face of Norway, a blight on its consciousness, the wound, the limp is obvious but can there ever be blessing?
Maybe it takes time to understand the actions of the past. Maybe now all that we can draw, that we might start to understand as good is the dignity of the Norwegian people steadfast in their belief that justice and order and a right way of living can never be shattered through any evil act. Maybe in the face of the chaotic, anarchic, madness of one man there might be a response like that of a Norwegian politician who said 'If one man can show so much hate, think how much love we could show, standing together.'
Sometimes; no often, as we wrestle with life’s presenting issues we find that the answers don’t come as easy as the questions and the questions come thick and fast, we ask ‘why God?’, ‘why did this happen?’, ‘why was my prayer not answered’, ‘why the suffering, why the heartache?’ Why?
Jacob held on and held on – not giving up, despite the pain, the anguish, the exhaustion he must have felt he would not let God go, this was something worth persevering with as if his very being, his very life depended on it.
Of course there are times in each of our lives when we struggle, with illness, with sin, with prayers that are not answered as we hope despite our faith and despite our desperation. Times when we feel as though we are alone dealing with things from the past, hoping for things for the future. Maybe the critical question is this - do we wrestle, do we struggle believing that somewhere in that struggle, eventually we will see blessing or do we see it simply and only see it as unwanted pain? It seems that when life is a struggle there is a danger that we can feel the wound from our wrestling all too easily and fail to wait, hold on for what God wants to bless us with.
So often we can give up and let go believing that life has gotten the better of us rather than see that our trials might be a blessing, that our wrestling might lead to a deeper understanding of God’s love for us and his grace outpoured on us, that our struggles can end in blessing or at least can be a process where blessing can be found.
May we also remember that we our ‘struggling’ experience is not new, we are in good company, those is history who have struggled for right, for freedom – Mandela, Martin Luther King, Ghandi, even Rosa Parkes ‘small’ struggle – refusing to get off that bus until she got her blessing, and through the pain she did. In our Romans reading we have Paul struggling with his very people, trying to understand their waywardness and he does so ‘with sorrow and unceasing anguish in his (sic) heart’. And may we not forget Jesus’ struggle, with the devil in the wilderness, with his disciples in their understanding, with the Pharisees in their questioning, with himself in Gethsemane and upon the cross with life itself, being wounded unto death.
I am aware Tragedy and violence and the struggle for the best in the face of the worst do not belong just to distant shores, even in our very own Wonford we are trying to make sense of a murder a stone’s throw from the place we worship. How can we make sense of such a senseless death let alone the lives of those ruined by this incident? The response of the community in placing flowers at the boarded up door is something that they can do, something to show respect, something to show love, telling all who passed by that this did matter. It seems so small and yet for those who lay the flowers and for those of us who pass by, it is a start.
In the last few days I was told a story of a situation that was really rather unpleasant for the person involved and not their fault or of their making – when that person relayed that story to a friend the friend consoled the person, but there was nothing that could be done – the event was past and could not be changed. Instead of bemoaning the ‘world gone wrong’ mentality, that so many of us can so easily fall into, the friend decided that they would try to add a little more good to the world, to find new ways of being generous. Not to wrestle with something that was past and beyond the possibility of intervention – instead, in small ways start to intervene now.
What is there here for us? Jesus who came to serve rather than be served, Jesus who put his very being at risk, who wrestled in the ‘liminal’ places – the spaces between heaven and earth, life and death, justice and mercy, love and hatred, wrestled that there might be mercy, peace and blessing.
May we be a people who do not rest easily, who do not bemoan that which is past without a willingness to strive for blessing for that which is yet to be, not just for ourselves but for all. May we be a people who though injured by life’s trials also be a people who, in the process, seek to discern the will of God, the possibilities of good.
And in the struggle, as we wrestle may we be a people who seek God’s face knowing that he seeks ours.
http://web.me.com/andrew.m.jackson/Wonford_Methodist_Church_Podcasts/Podcast/Entries/2011/7/31_Rev_Mark_Gilborson_-_31st_July_2011.html
Wrestling with God - Genesis 32:22-31
Saturday afternoons – with Grandad, pipe smoke, black and white TV, tea made with sterilised milk, chips from the chip shop – wrestling on the telly – Big daddy, the dynamite kid, the masked Kendo Nagasaki, giant Haystacks to name but a few.
On a Sunday afternoon the wrestling moves would be practiced on my dad on the lounge floor: the Boston crab, drop kick, full and half Nelson, well I say practiced, thankfully the moves were never executed properly, no one actually got injured – yet there is that close contact something enjoyed by parent and child throughout the generations. I can even say that I won on occasions though at the age of 7 I think my father may have let me win!
If you look at the history of wrestling you will see that it is as old as the hills dating more the 15000 years depicted in caves paintings, mentioned in ancient literature and portrayed in stone bronze. There is something, almost instinctive about pitting one person’s strength against another, often just for fun or sport. Indeed at next year’s Olympics there will be 344 athletes, some of them women competing with 18 medals up for grabs – literally by wrestling.
Today’s lectionary reading gives us a puzzling picture of Jacob who literally wrestles with God. Throughout history so much has been written about this ancient story. For those who are reading the Bible in a year, it was one of the early stories, those of us doing the DISCIPLE course have encountered it too. When we read the OT or Hebrew Bible there are many texts that we have to wrestle with, we have to tussle with, until we hear God’s voice and receive God’s blessing not just in our understanding but also in the process of working hard – wrestling.
For Jacob here is a story of tenacity, a never give up, a do or die, grappling that lasted until daybreak, an exhausting clinch between Jacob and God, human and divine. We read that Jacob did leave with the blessing that he held out for yet in that process, in that battle there was injury, for Jacob left with a mark, he would always be reminded of that day as he literally limped away.
It seems that Jacob wrestled for much of his life, he actually starting wrestling before he was born - with Esau in his mother’s womb Gen 25:22 says ‘the children struggled together’ Jacob lost that battle to be born first but he didn’t give up, he held onto his brother’s heel, grappling till the last. He wrestled with his family again cheating his father and gaining his brother’s inheritance. He then Wrestled with Laban in search of the hand of Rachel, of course later he gets a taste of his own medicine struggling to keep his own sons in order!
But what can Jacob’s wrestling with God say to us today?
As I speak now not even ten days have passed since that appalling event in Norway. One of the most difficult questions we face as Christians in today’s world is ‘why does God let evil happen’, the technical term is ‘theodicy’ – is God unable to act in the face of such evil or if he is able is he willing? It seems that as I have read more and more of the Hebrew Bible in recent weeks that I see a God desperate to teach his children that there is a better way, if only they would listen to his voice, if only they would follow his ways, if only they would seek his face if only... It seems as though it is when we think we know best, when we make our reasoning, our rationale, our stomachs, our love lives, our ambition, our bank balances – when we make these our Gods that the order God created is shifted and things go awry.
As we wrestle with the knowledge of this event in Norway, the murder of innocents, that face of inhumanity - what sense might we ever make of such an atrocity? We know that this will leave a scar on the face of Norway, a blight on its consciousness, the wound, the limp is obvious but can there ever be blessing?
Maybe it takes time to understand the actions of the past. Maybe now all that we can draw, that we might start to understand as good is the dignity of the Norwegian people steadfast in their belief that justice and order and a right way of living can never be shattered through any evil act. Maybe in the face of the chaotic, anarchic, madness of one man there might be a response like that of a Norwegian politician who said 'If one man can show so much hate, think how much love we could show, standing together.'
Sometimes; no often, as we wrestle with life’s presenting issues we find that the answers don’t come as easy as the questions and the questions come thick and fast, we ask ‘why God?’, ‘why did this happen?’, ‘why was my prayer not answered’, ‘why the suffering, why the heartache?’ Why?
Jacob held on and held on – not giving up, despite the pain, the anguish, the exhaustion he must have felt he would not let God go, this was something worth persevering with as if his very being, his very life depended on it.
Of course there are times in each of our lives when we struggle, with illness, with sin, with prayers that are not answered as we hope despite our faith and despite our desperation. Times when we feel as though we are alone dealing with things from the past, hoping for things for the future. Maybe the critical question is this - do we wrestle, do we struggle believing that somewhere in that struggle, eventually we will see blessing or do we see it simply and only see it as unwanted pain? It seems that when life is a struggle there is a danger that we can feel the wound from our wrestling all too easily and fail to wait, hold on for what God wants to bless us with.
So often we can give up and let go believing that life has gotten the better of us rather than see that our trials might be a blessing, that our wrestling might lead to a deeper understanding of God’s love for us and his grace outpoured on us, that our struggles can end in blessing or at least can be a process where blessing can be found.
May we also remember that we our ‘struggling’ experience is not new, we are in good company, those is history who have struggled for right, for freedom – Mandela, Martin Luther King, Ghandi, even Rosa Parkes ‘small’ struggle – refusing to get off that bus until she got her blessing, and through the pain she did. In our Romans reading we have Paul struggling with his very people, trying to understand their waywardness and he does so ‘with sorrow and unceasing anguish in his (sic) heart’. And may we not forget Jesus’ struggle, with the devil in the wilderness, with his disciples in their understanding, with the Pharisees in their questioning, with himself in Gethsemane and upon the cross with life itself, being wounded unto death.
I am aware Tragedy and violence and the struggle for the best in the face of the worst do not belong just to distant shores, even in our very own Wonford we are trying to make sense of a murder a stone’s throw from the place we worship. How can we make sense of such a senseless death let alone the lives of those ruined by this incident? The response of the community in placing flowers at the boarded up door is something that they can do, something to show respect, something to show love, telling all who passed by that this did matter. It seems so small and yet for those who lay the flowers and for those of us who pass by, it is a start.
In the last few days I was told a story of a situation that was really rather unpleasant for the person involved and not their fault or of their making – when that person relayed that story to a friend the friend consoled the person, but there was nothing that could be done – the event was past and could not be changed. Instead of bemoaning the ‘world gone wrong’ mentality, that so many of us can so easily fall into, the friend decided that they would try to add a little more good to the world, to find new ways of being generous. Not to wrestle with something that was past and beyond the possibility of intervention – instead, in small ways start to intervene now.
What is there here for us? Jesus who came to serve rather than be served, Jesus who put his very being at risk, who wrestled in the ‘liminal’ places – the spaces between heaven and earth, life and death, justice and mercy, love and hatred, wrestled that there might be mercy, peace and blessing.
May we be a people who do not rest easily, who do not bemoan that which is past without a willingness to strive for blessing for that which is yet to be, not just for ourselves but for all. May we be a people who though injured by life’s trials also be a people who, in the process, seek to discern the will of God, the possibilities of good.
And in the struggle, as we wrestle may we be a people who seek God’s face knowing that he seeks ours.
Tuesday 19 July 2011
A rose, my A.N.E Other name...
I had the benefit of studying Romeo and Juliet at school, and much of it I still enjoy. The following passage has been used to suggest that it is not what we are called that is important but what we are.
JULIET:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
Far from it for me to take issue with the bard but!
I was recently reading a running magazine (how sad!) and an article about at what stage you can actually call yourself a runner. I have already joked that I am actually a jogger but this is a moot point. At what level, personal or competitive can someone actually call themselves a runner? I find the same question with my weekly Disciple course, do I start the journey as a disciple or is that where I end up?
The article in the running magazine concluded that the only achievement you need to attain in naming yourself 'a runner' is to actually start running. The mental decision and the physical enacting of that will is what defines you, to misquote Descartes 'I run therefore I am a runner'. Unlike Shakespeare's rose whose sweetness is not impaired nor enhanced by its being named it seems that being called a runner has a benefit, it is an intrinsic part of mobilising the whole being into a new mindset.
I remember undertaking a different Christian discipleship course last year where we were told that for too long the church has labelled people 'sinners' what do 'sinners' do? They sin! If I put myself down for long enough and tell myself that I am bad then it will not take me long to really start to believe it and act more that way. The course reminded us that the Bible often calls Christians 'saints', maybe by adopting this more positive mindset might we be inspired to live up to that calling.
So I am a runner! Yes there you go I said it, the cat is out the bag, I now must live up to what that means.
Oh and by the way last week I bought myself a bicycle - having now ridden it I think that means I am also a cyclist!
JULIET:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
Far from it for me to take issue with the bard but!
I was recently reading a running magazine (how sad!) and an article about at what stage you can actually call yourself a runner. I have already joked that I am actually a jogger but this is a moot point. At what level, personal or competitive can someone actually call themselves a runner? I find the same question with my weekly Disciple course, do I start the journey as a disciple or is that where I end up?
The article in the running magazine concluded that the only achievement you need to attain in naming yourself 'a runner' is to actually start running. The mental decision and the physical enacting of that will is what defines you, to misquote Descartes 'I run therefore I am a runner'. Unlike Shakespeare's rose whose sweetness is not impaired nor enhanced by its being named it seems that being called a runner has a benefit, it is an intrinsic part of mobilising the whole being into a new mindset.
I remember undertaking a different Christian discipleship course last year where we were told that for too long the church has labelled people 'sinners' what do 'sinners' do? They sin! If I put myself down for long enough and tell myself that I am bad then it will not take me long to really start to believe it and act more that way. The course reminded us that the Bible often calls Christians 'saints', maybe by adopting this more positive mindset might we be inspired to live up to that calling.
So I am a runner! Yes there you go I said it, the cat is out the bag, I now must live up to what that means.
Oh and by the way last week I bought myself a bicycle - having now ridden it I think that means I am also a cyclist!
Thursday 7 July 2011
No place like home?
It was while I was sat in Merville, France, whilst attending a 3 day 'missioner conference' in a seminar exploring the role of the established church in mission, it was then that I started to reflect on the Wizard of Oz! I came to the conclusion that it was almost a treatise for atheism. Dorothy's transcendent 'other' and colourful place was in fact a dream. Reality was mundane, black and white. The deific wizard pronounced a fraud, hiding behind a fake mysticism and shrouded in myth. The 'prayers' of tin man, scarecrow and lion were answered by understanding that what they desired was already within them, they were self sufficient and just needed to believe more strongly in themselves. Dorothy's conclusion 'there is no place like home' an affirmation of the tangible in juxtaposition to the dream.
I love France, I have always joked that I will retire there. This conference was a great opportunity to meet people doing similar work to me, listen to some great speakers, develop ideas and also time to think, to be. For me my life now life is different because I want/need to fit running into my schedule and so I ran in France - twice.
I am also reading a book about running 'Why we run: A story of Obsession By Robin Harvie http://www.amazon.co.uk/Why-We-Run-Robin-Harvie/dp/1848541767. When it comes to running he is a bit of a lunatic running 120+ miles a week. The only way he could achieve this was to catch a train, each day, 20 miles from where he lived and ran home, he had no other choice but to run home. Harvie believes that it is the arrival home that compels us, draws us like a magnet. It is the 'cold beer and hot bath' that persuade him to keep running. I am forced to ask myself questions: Which is the reality? which one is home?
I return to France soon, this time on holiday, like the end of a run is this annual holiday a reward for my year's hard work - my 'cold beer and hot bath'? My technicolor interlude? My glimpse of heaven? Or is it a reminder that life's experience are often in the mundane, hard work of day to day. My recent reading of Leviticus as part of my Disciple group suggests that God was found in the routine, the earthiness of everyday life - immanence and well as transcendence.
Maybe then my destination is not about arrival, maybe home is actually where I am, in the journeying. Of course the end of the rainbow is always just out of reach.
I love France, I have always joked that I will retire there. This conference was a great opportunity to meet people doing similar work to me, listen to some great speakers, develop ideas and also time to think, to be. For me my life now life is different because I want/need to fit running into my schedule and so I ran in France - twice.
I am also reading a book about running 'Why we run: A story of Obsession By Robin Harvie http://www.amazon.co.uk/Why-We-Run-Robin-Harvie/dp/1848541767. When it comes to running he is a bit of a lunatic running 120+ miles a week. The only way he could achieve this was to catch a train, each day, 20 miles from where he lived and ran home, he had no other choice but to run home. Harvie believes that it is the arrival home that compels us, draws us like a magnet. It is the 'cold beer and hot bath' that persuade him to keep running. I am forced to ask myself questions: Which is the reality? which one is home?
I return to France soon, this time on holiday, like the end of a run is this annual holiday a reward for my year's hard work - my 'cold beer and hot bath'? My technicolor interlude? My glimpse of heaven? Or is it a reminder that life's experience are often in the mundane, hard work of day to day. My recent reading of Leviticus as part of my Disciple group suggests that God was found in the routine, the earthiness of everyday life - immanence and well as transcendence.
Maybe then my destination is not about arrival, maybe home is actually where I am, in the journeying. Of course the end of the rainbow is always just out of reach.
Sunday 19 June 2011
An uphill struggle?
They say that some of the best things in life are worth waiting for, working for - I have joked that the best ingredient to any meal is hunger.
Today I was taking a service at Tavistock Methodist church, it must be said I was really pleased to be there and they seemed pleased that I was there also - always a good sign! The last time I was in Tavistock Sharon and I were running a 13 mile leg of the trip from Land's end to Exeter, raising money for El-Shaddai. The run was an amazing one, across beautiful moor but also largely uphill, we reckon at least 8 miles of it! I remember being 2.17 miles in and wondering if I could carry on. Sharon and I did carry on and finished in just over 2 and a half hours, yes it was gruelling but also one of the most satisfying moments of my life; beautiful scenery and an immense challenge and time spent with Sharon.
Today I drove the same route we ran, from Tavistock and this time alone. Wow it is so much easier by car, the hills seem far less significant, the experience much less extreme. Yet it was those 'extremities' that I think I missed - when we ran there were times when we looked ahead at the impossible hills and ten minutes later we looked back and wondered how we had managed it.
Today is also father's day and I received 2 books on running and one on sport's psychology - 'Bounce' - mentioned in an earlier blog. This week I ran 19 miles and I feel that I am getting somewhere, still not really any faster but I am sure that I am fitter.
I have also started to look at marathon training schedules and realised that this is going to be really hard. I have also started to talk of actually running a marathon and as my training will have to be in the late spring/early summer and I don't like running in the heat, we are seriously considering going to Reykjavik in August 2012 - I said 'we', Sharon is thinking about it too.
Do I have the hunger for this, is this worth working for? I guess I will find out.
Today I was taking a service at Tavistock Methodist church, it must be said I was really pleased to be there and they seemed pleased that I was there also - always a good sign! The last time I was in Tavistock Sharon and I were running a 13 mile leg of the trip from Land's end to Exeter, raising money for El-Shaddai. The run was an amazing one, across beautiful moor but also largely uphill, we reckon at least 8 miles of it! I remember being 2.17 miles in and wondering if I could carry on. Sharon and I did carry on and finished in just over 2 and a half hours, yes it was gruelling but also one of the most satisfying moments of my life; beautiful scenery and an immense challenge and time spent with Sharon.
Today I drove the same route we ran, from Tavistock and this time alone. Wow it is so much easier by car, the hills seem far less significant, the experience much less extreme. Yet it was those 'extremities' that I think I missed - when we ran there were times when we looked ahead at the impossible hills and ten minutes later we looked back and wondered how we had managed it.
Today is also father's day and I received 2 books on running and one on sport's psychology - 'Bounce' - mentioned in an earlier blog. This week I ran 19 miles and I feel that I am getting somewhere, still not really any faster but I am sure that I am fitter.
I have also started to look at marathon training schedules and realised that this is going to be really hard. I have also started to talk of actually running a marathon and as my training will have to be in the late spring/early summer and I don't like running in the heat, we are seriously considering going to Reykjavik in August 2012 - I said 'we', Sharon is thinking about it too.
Do I have the hunger for this, is this worth working for? I guess I will find out.
Friday 10 June 2011
Unchosen companions
On Monday morning one of my colleagues read a reflection giving consideration to the fact that many of those we spend our time with are not specifically chosen by us.
Today I ran another 9 miles, 3 miles earlier in the week and 16 last week. Not quite the 20 a week I am aiming for but a start (when do such things stop being 'a start?') I am delighted to say that Sharon has recovered from her minor op and all is well, so today we ran together. When it comes to running Sharon is my unchosen companion.
Well that is true and it is not. Today may be the first time ever that she has struggled to keep up with me. This is a first, and I reckon, may be a last. She will soon be fit again and once again I will be trailing in her footsteps complaining and moaning about the pain and 'are we nearly there yet?'
I say unchosen because although we decided to choose to run together on Friday mornings I would have liked to have been able to choose someone slower, someone whom I could run with but run within myself. Running with Sharon is difficult, I have to put more effort in, I want to keep up and keep going. Running with Sharon has been hard for me but it has started (notice the 'started' again)to make me a better runner. She never moans about having to slow down for me either.
Whilst on holiday last week I read a really interesting book by Sally Vickers 'The other side of you', it is a tale of an encounter between a failed suicide and her psychiatrist; neither 'chooses' the company of the other. Together they recount shared experiences and recollect their encounter with Caravaggio's 'Supper at Emmaus' and the presence of a shared stranger, another 'unchosen companion'. In the book and on the Emmaus road the recollections lead to a new understanding and renewed hope in living life.
So today I am so glad that Sharon is running with me again, I am determined to keep up with her. I am also so glad for those I journey with in various aspects of my life: family, friends, colleagues, my disciple group, church friends, travelling together, often unchosen. Sometimes the journeying is pleasurable and easy, other times fraught and difficult yet, it seems, always worthwhile and invariably with something to share.
Today I ran another 9 miles, 3 miles earlier in the week and 16 last week. Not quite the 20 a week I am aiming for but a start (when do such things stop being 'a start?') I am delighted to say that Sharon has recovered from her minor op and all is well, so today we ran together. When it comes to running Sharon is my unchosen companion.
Well that is true and it is not. Today may be the first time ever that she has struggled to keep up with me. This is a first, and I reckon, may be a last. She will soon be fit again and once again I will be trailing in her footsteps complaining and moaning about the pain and 'are we nearly there yet?'
I say unchosen because although we decided to choose to run together on Friday mornings I would have liked to have been able to choose someone slower, someone whom I could run with but run within myself. Running with Sharon is difficult, I have to put more effort in, I want to keep up and keep going. Running with Sharon has been hard for me but it has started (notice the 'started' again)to make me a better runner. She never moans about having to slow down for me either.
Whilst on holiday last week I read a really interesting book by Sally Vickers 'The other side of you', it is a tale of an encounter between a failed suicide and her psychiatrist; neither 'chooses' the company of the other. Together they recount shared experiences and recollect their encounter with Caravaggio's 'Supper at Emmaus' and the presence of a shared stranger, another 'unchosen companion'. In the book and on the Emmaus road the recollections lead to a new understanding and renewed hope in living life.
So today I am so glad that Sharon is running with me again, I am determined to keep up with her. I am also so glad for those I journey with in various aspects of my life: family, friends, colleagues, my disciple group, church friends, travelling together, often unchosen. Sometimes the journeying is pleasurable and easy, other times fraught and difficult yet, it seems, always worthwhile and invariably with something to share.
Wednesday 18 May 2011
There will be blood
It is said that anything that is of value involves blood, sweat and tears - but I don't like blood, sweat and tears!
There seem to be so many reasons/excuses not to go running: too early, too late, too hot, too cold, too full, too hungry, actually the main one seems to be too busy - things are so busy. We go on holiday soon so everything backs ups into the fortnight before and I have to run to catch up, except that leaves no actual time to run.
I had some time yesterday evening but I was made to promise that I would not run, he was bigger than me, made me sign forms and then assaulted me with this HUGE needle, literally sucking the life force from me - I took a picture to prove it.
Why can't I run just because I have given blood? Apparently I will faint - I have never fainted! Apparently there is a first time for everything. So I promised that I would not go scuba diving, go-kart driving, paragliding and a host of other things I just don't do anyway. He said I had to promise not to go running too, I said I don't run, I jog, badly. Apparently I can't do that either not for 24 hours, so with several evening meetings I couldn't run today either.
Then I had an argument with the manager of the area Blood Service unit. As I surveyed the calorie, salt and sugar laden crisps and biscuits I merely suggested that fruit might be an option, that made her blood boil. Clearly I wasn't the first to suggest it and she has all the answers, was I willing to pay more taxes? this wasn't private this was the National Health, all the biscuits were neatly packed and germ free, fruit would be loose and unhealthy, it would get bruised, the staff would eat it! At that point I gave up.
I will go running tomorrow, as long as it's not too hot or too cold, did the man say 24 hours or 24 days? Do I really need an excuse/reason not to run
Tuesday 10 May 2011
Broken! Busted? Borked...
I woke up at 5.30am this morning, strange bed, Disciple to prepare for, lots to think about, lots to do. Trying to return to the land of sleep proved impossible. There is a balance between action and inaction, doing and being.
Today I am at the second day of CELL UK national conference for the Methodist church, located in Swanwick, hence the strange bed. Last week Rowan Williams described the future of church as somewhere between cell and celebration, not new but pithy. So yesterday and today I am listening, talking, questioning and reflecting on how church can be better in 'cells'.
It seems there are a number of things: cells have DNA, something deep that defines and shapes them, there is also something about connectedness, not just to those in your own cell group but those outside, those friends, family, co-workers whose 'hand you hold', whom you pastor to. The aspect that has gotten to me though is that cells, by definition, multiply, they are born to grow, to split. The word 'split' in the context of church is always seen in a negative light, it means there has been disagreement that has led to schism, not a good kind of broken in any way.
Yet 'Cell Church' has as its mantra and withing its DNA that it should aim to split, there should come a point when growth has meant that, to misquote the Spice Girls, '1 become 2'.
It is strange how things happen, yesterday evening, over dinner, I was talking with a colleague, about the value of exercise, he was explaining to me the benefit of using weights to build muscle and burn calories, Apparently any exercise and especially short bursts, tears the muscle, literally breaks it, the bulk comes when the muscle repairs itself, growing in size but also burning calories to do so. So when the muscle stops working the benefits remain, the growth increases during the resting. Purposeful brokenness for the benefit of growth.
Apparently 'borked' means to break or damage, its etymology is uncertain but it is thought it was originally a misspelling of 'broked' as in broken. A new word born by breaking an old one.
Psalm 51:17 says"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.", maybe brokenness IS something to work toward, a purposeful attempt to renew, to grow through purposeful discipline: physical, or spiritual.
I ran 4 miles today in gloriously sunny Swanwick.
Today I am at the second day of CELL UK national conference for the Methodist church, located in Swanwick, hence the strange bed. Last week Rowan Williams described the future of church as somewhere between cell and celebration, not new but pithy. So yesterday and today I am listening, talking, questioning and reflecting on how church can be better in 'cells'.
It seems there are a number of things: cells have DNA, something deep that defines and shapes them, there is also something about connectedness, not just to those in your own cell group but those outside, those friends, family, co-workers whose 'hand you hold', whom you pastor to. The aspect that has gotten to me though is that cells, by definition, multiply, they are born to grow, to split. The word 'split' in the context of church is always seen in a negative light, it means there has been disagreement that has led to schism, not a good kind of broken in any way.
Yet 'Cell Church' has as its mantra and withing its DNA that it should aim to split, there should come a point when growth has meant that, to misquote the Spice Girls, '1 become 2'.
It is strange how things happen, yesterday evening, over dinner, I was talking with a colleague, about the value of exercise, he was explaining to me the benefit of using weights to build muscle and burn calories, Apparently any exercise and especially short bursts, tears the muscle, literally breaks it, the bulk comes when the muscle repairs itself, growing in size but also burning calories to do so. So when the muscle stops working the benefits remain, the growth increases during the resting. Purposeful brokenness for the benefit of growth.
Apparently 'borked' means to break or damage, its etymology is uncertain but it is thought it was originally a misspelling of 'broked' as in broken. A new word born by breaking an old one.
Psalm 51:17 says"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.", maybe brokenness IS something to work toward, a purposeful attempt to renew, to grow through purposeful discipline: physical, or spiritual.
I ran 4 miles today in gloriously sunny Swanwick.
Thursday 5 May 2011
Painstaking transformation
'Painstaking transformation' those were the words that started my day.
Nicky Campbell (is it the same without Shelagh Fogarty?) on Radio 5 was interviewing Matthew Syed an Olympic table tennis player about his new book 'Bounce'. Essentially the conversation revolved around the idea that we are not limited by our bodies or minds but by our limits. It is the things that we say that we can't do that we can't do.
Syed's research suggests that there is a 'myth of talent' and a huge power in the application of practice. Saying you can't do something is incredibly destructive and only reinforces your conclusion. The 'power of practice' was cited as the most important factor in ANY success and that many child prodigies have unusual lifestyles that meant they practised a lot from a very young age. Perseverance is the key and a beliefe that effort ALWAYS translates into performance. Nicky Campbell reminded the listeners of Gary Player's quote 'the more I practice the luckier I seem to get'
So this morning was an excellent wake up call for me as I embark upon trying to become a slightly less rubbish jogger. To complete the circle I also start a 'Disciple' course today. Disciple is a year long practice of daily Bible study and reflection punctuated by weekly meetings, I am doing this with a dozen others and it starts today. I decided to do this some time ago to put a bit more disciplined exercise into my flabby spiritual life.
Today I am considering going for a run, the first since my half-marathon, but it is cold, raining and I am too busy. I think I need to set out a programme, a timetable or I am concerned that I will never get down to it.
The spiritual journey seems like it is connected to the physical one: Slow, painstaking that sounds like me; transformation? I hope so.
Nicky Campbell (is it the same without Shelagh Fogarty?) on Radio 5 was interviewing Matthew Syed an Olympic table tennis player about his new book 'Bounce'. Essentially the conversation revolved around the idea that we are not limited by our bodies or minds but by our limits. It is the things that we say that we can't do that we can't do.
Syed's research suggests that there is a 'myth of talent' and a huge power in the application of practice. Saying you can't do something is incredibly destructive and only reinforces your conclusion. The 'power of practice' was cited as the most important factor in ANY success and that many child prodigies have unusual lifestyles that meant they practised a lot from a very young age. Perseverance is the key and a beliefe that effort ALWAYS translates into performance. Nicky Campbell reminded the listeners of Gary Player's quote 'the more I practice the luckier I seem to get'
So this morning was an excellent wake up call for me as I embark upon trying to become a slightly less rubbish jogger. To complete the circle I also start a 'Disciple' course today. Disciple is a year long practice of daily Bible study and reflection punctuated by weekly meetings, I am doing this with a dozen others and it starts today. I decided to do this some time ago to put a bit more disciplined exercise into my flabby spiritual life.
Today I am considering going for a run, the first since my half-marathon, but it is cold, raining and I am too busy. I think I need to set out a programme, a timetable or I am concerned that I will never get down to it.
The spiritual journey seems like it is connected to the physical one: Slow, painstaking that sounds like me; transformation? I hope so.
Monday 2 May 2011
Running with broken toe
You might take me to task with the title, especially as it is my first foray into Blogging. I hardly 'run', actually even the term 'jogging' may be an exaggeration. Said toe may not be broken, blackened, yes, bleeding yes, broken - only a maybe. All in a rushed, definitely running, attempt to save washing from a drenching on Saturday afternoon. Why did I run without shoes, why did I kick the corner of that concrete flower pot so hard, why did I have to do that within 24 hours of my second attempt of 'running' the Great West Jog.
Running with broken toe gave me an excuse to do badly. Actually after strapping it to the toe next to it and dosing myself on painkillers I can honestly say it wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated. I was aiming to do the 13.1 miles in 2 hours 10 minutes and at 2:16 I was quite content; still 20+ minutes quicker than two years ago.
My father commented that 'Running with broken toe' had something of the 'Native American' about it, that is the indigenous peoples of North America. This rang a bell with me and reminded me of the reason I started running in the first place. Okay: to lose weight, get fit and share a recreational activity with my wife are the three other reasons. The other, other reason has a relation with that idea of 'indigenous'. Now I understand 'indigenous' to mean 'occurring naturally', 'innate' or 'inherent' and not just to races or peoples but also to qualities. Long distance running is something I maintain is utterly unnatural for me, I ran 100 metres for my school and played rugby on the wing and right back for the football team. I had an innate ability to run quickly over very short distances but NEVER over long.
We are each born with inherent, dare I say 'indigenous, strengths and weaknesses and, I guess given the choice,we often do the things that we are good at, the things that we enjoy. My question and my other, other reason to start running was to ask what happens when we purposefully engage with those things we find difficult or dislike, the things we have always said that we just can't do?
I didn't need an alleged broken toe to run badly when I run (jog) badly anyway. Jogging badly was actually part of the plan.
Running with broken toe gave me an excuse to do badly. Actually after strapping it to the toe next to it and dosing myself on painkillers I can honestly say it wasn't nearly as bad as I anticipated. I was aiming to do the 13.1 miles in 2 hours 10 minutes and at 2:16 I was quite content; still 20+ minutes quicker than two years ago.
My father commented that 'Running with broken toe' had something of the 'Native American' about it, that is the indigenous peoples of North America. This rang a bell with me and reminded me of the reason I started running in the first place. Okay: to lose weight, get fit and share a recreational activity with my wife are the three other reasons. The other, other reason has a relation with that idea of 'indigenous'. Now I understand 'indigenous' to mean 'occurring naturally', 'innate' or 'inherent' and not just to races or peoples but also to qualities. Long distance running is something I maintain is utterly unnatural for me, I ran 100 metres for my school and played rugby on the wing and right back for the football team. I had an innate ability to run quickly over very short distances but NEVER over long.
We are each born with inherent, dare I say 'indigenous, strengths and weaknesses and, I guess given the choice,we often do the things that we are good at, the things that we enjoy. My question and my other, other reason to start running was to ask what happens when we purposefully engage with those things we find difficult or dislike, the things we have always said that we just can't do?
I didn't need an alleged broken toe to run badly when I run (jog) badly anyway. Jogging badly was actually part of the plan.
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