TOO MUCH, TOO SOON

Yesterday a letter appeared in the Daily Telegraph from a group of more than 200 academics and other experts, expressing concern about how children are raised in the UK. The points are well made, and worth giving consideration to. From my own observations, I would make these points about modern childhood:

·       As I have written before, much of the problem is with my generation, with its ‘lifestyle choices’ and refusal to grow up

·       School is a mixed blessing. School can be great – especially great schools! But school starts too young and is too intense for many kids, especially boys. We keep identifying new categories of special need, and labelling increasing numbers of kids with those special needs, when a lot of the problem is that six year old boys are meant to be running around in the woods hitting each other with sticks and not stuck in a classroom

·       We too quickly default to electronic media for entertainment, which does lead to a physical passivity, even if the mind is being engaged in some way

·       We are too cautious, and don’t let our children take enough risks

·       We are too busy trying to be friends with our children when what we are meant to be is parents

And, of course, over and above all this is our secularization. In the end, without a consciousness of God’s claim and rule over us we are all blind guides leading the blind. For it is God, “who strengthens the bars of your gates; and blesses your children within you.” (Ps 147:13)

A LUTHERAN POPE?

Yesterday the Pope visited Erfut, the monastery that was home to Martin Luther, and what might be described as the spiritual home of the Reformation. To have a Pope address leaders of the Lutheran church at this site is ironic almost beyond description. It also begs the question as to which church Luther would himself feel most comfortable with were he alive today – a Lutheran church that has in many ways slipped so far from the ideals of its founder, or a Catholicism that regularly speaks with greater clarity about matters of faith?

At the end of his address the Pope made some interesting observations. The first was a thinly veiled attack upon Pentecostal and Charismatic churches:

The geography of Christianity has changed dramatically in recent times, and is in the process of changing further. Faced with a new form of Christianity, which is spreading with overpowering missionary dynamism, sometimes in frightening ways, the mainstream Christian denominations often seem at a loss.

Clearly the See of Rome feels the threat of what it regards as its possession by God given right being taken away by these Pentecostal upstarts. This is the case especially in Latin America, where to be a Christian does not now necessarily mean being a Roman Catholic – and it must be as unsettling for the papacy as was Luther’s Reformation. The Pope’s concern is that, “This is a form of Christianity with little institutional depth, little rationality and even less dogmatic content, and with little stability.” That is perhaps a fair criticism, but does not in itself invalidate what is happening. By definition, whenever a new move of God begins it takes time for institutions and theological depth to develop – and sadly it is often the development of those very things that kills off spiritual vitality.

The Pope’s final point was well made, and worth quoting in entirety – it is one with which most Pentecostals would probably identify!

The second challenge to worldwide Christianity of which I wish to speak is more profound and in our country more controversial: the secularized context of the world in which we Christians today have to live and bear witness to our faith. God is increasingly being driven out of our society, and the history of revelation that Scripture recounts to us seems locked into an ever more remote past. Are we to yield to the pressure of secularization, and become modern by watering down the faith? Naturally faith today has to be thought out afresh, and above all lived afresh, so that it is suited to the present day. Yet it is not by watering the faith down, but by living it today in its fullness that we achieve this. This is a key ecumenical task. Moreover, we should help one another to develop a deeper and more lively faith. It is not strategy that saves us and saves Christianity, but faith – thought out and lived afresh; through such faith, Christ enters this world of ours, and with him, the living God.

I’m not sure Luther himself could have put it any better.

IT'S THAT TIME

I took down this seasons sweet peas this afternoon. This is always a cathartic moment.

Sweet peas are fantastic – the simple essence of summer – and for three months we have had bunch after bunch of the fragrant blooms filling the house. I planted them in March, they were flowering by June, and they have been beautiful. So taking them down is in someways a sad thing to do. I don’t much like the shortening days and the passing of summer. The other day a passing dog walker remarked, “I don’t mind the darker mornings.” My reply? “I hate it!”

Yet there is also something I enjoy about the autumnal tidying of the garden. I like clearing some space, where everything has become overgrown. I like to see the soil again, and attain a sense of cleanness. I like the anticipation – that come next spring that bare space will again be filled, by something beautiful, or edible, or (best of all) both.

And I like the feeling of getting in rhythm with the times as they are meant to be, because,

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot (Eccl. 3:1-2).

ANOTHER SHAMELESS APPEAL

I have been running, with more or less regularity, for the past 25 years - but I would never describe myself as a runner. I don't have the natural ability to truly count as a runner. Someone who runs, kind of, but not a runner. I guess I've racked up a few thousand miles over the past quarter century, and got through numerous pairs of trainers. I've had some miserable times of plodding along feeling like a sack of bricks, and rarer moments when it has all felt much more effortless. I've probably done some of my best thinking while I've been running; and also some of my most aimless daydreaming.

Anyway, every so often it is good to run with purpose, and in a couple of weeks time a group of us from Gateway are taking part in the Commando Challenge. This is a 10k 'run' over the Royal Marines training course in Devon, and as part of the deal we have to raise money for the Devon Air Ambulance - a very worthy cause! The course forms part of the final selection process for Royal Marines, with strict time limits for its completion. Our aim is just to get through it!

So, if you'd like to sponsor me I would be most grateful! (I only have to raise £60) Please visit here.

Thanks!

FAMILIAR GROUND

Have you ever had the experience of visiting a place you have known intimately, after a period of several years of not being there? It is an odd experience – one I had yesterday as I went back to Sidcup for the first time in nearly four years.

Sidcup was not a place where I ever expected to live, nor would have actively chosen, and actually for most of the time I was there I lived a mile or two up the road in the glorious surroundings of London SE9. But for thirteen years (longer than I have lived anywhere else) I served a church based in Sidcup, and all my kids have “Sidcup” as the place of birth in their passports, so we will forever carry a piece of South London/North Kent with us.

Despite having been away for so long, it was scary how quickly autopilot took over as I drove in, went into the church building, and then walked to the high street and to see friends. The cliché that it was like I’d never been away was all too true.

I started this blog at the beginning of the process of moving away from Sidcup, and my first proper post was a parable for what I was experiencing at the time:

Yesterday afternoon I was out on my normal run route, and ran into a tree. This isn’t a normal part of my normal run, but some abnormal wind had blown a tree over a path and I didn’t duck low enough to avoid a branch.

This seemed to me to be something of a metaphor for life.

Normally we jog along our normal routes, at our normal pace and normal things happen. But every so often we find ourselves running into a tree that isn’t normally there.

Running into trees is painful.

Pain is designed to teach us, and, if we are wise, next time we will keep our eyes open and duck or swerve or step-over the tree that lies in our path. Most of all, we won’t let the trees stop us from going where we are meant to be going.

I think this is part of what Jesus meant when he said “No-one who puts his hand to the plough and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”

Looking back is a sure way to hit some trees…

Leaving Sidcup was a painful process, and I smacked into a few obstacles on the way. By the grace of God I think I learnt some valuable lessons. Going back yesterday wasn’t looking back, but it was a welcome return to familiar ground – I could have found my way in (and out) with my eyes closed.