a load of (snow) balls

Thank goodness I'm an adult because that way I can have fun and do things like take part in Tough Guy and go skiing. Meanwhile my kids - the ones who really should be having fun - after all, that is, or perhaps better that was, an important part of childhood on my understanding - are not allowed to throw snowballs at school or run when its slippery. Where and when did education turn down this blind and boring alley?

Glad to say that at the St Cuthbert's Old School Nursery the kids were taken out to try a sledge, to play and to learn to appreciate the wonderful world God has made.

Footnote - I did manage to take Lizzie and Joe sledging to Pott Shriggley on Sunday as per the video footage

Of such is the Kingdom...

I visited St Mary's, Stockport today. No service information was available on their website so took a flyer and arrived on time at 10.30.

St Mary's is a huge cathedral like building situated next to the marketplace in the centre of Stockport. It joins several other historic churches in vying for what must be a pretty small slice of population given that people have generally moved out of the town centre.

The congregation was, shall we say, modest and, in the main, of riper years. Likewise the interior was, similarly, showing its age though, to be fair, some ongoing work was evident on the ceiling following the external refurbishment of the tower recently completed.

What the congregation lacked in numbers, however, it made up for in variety and resolve. Surely a group like this should be putting themselves first? Wrong, right at the start of the service they spent a good ten minutes thinking about the work of the Leprosy Mission and later took an extra collection - give 10p or £10 simply what you can.

Surely a group like this would not have the energy to think about mission? Wrong, mission formed the centre piece of both the sermon and the prayers, the latter including the following by John Henry Newman:

Lord, help me to spread thy fragrance everywhere I go.
Let me preach thee without preaching,
not by my words, but by my example,
by the catching force,
the sympathetic influence of what I do,
the evident fullness of the love
my heart bears to thee. Amen.

The singing was hearty and the fellowship after the service was good. All this in spite of the absence of the Rector, Roger Scoones, who was off skiing (what is it about clergy and skiing?!)

As I stated in the title, of such is the Kingdom of God

Battered, bruised, but not broken (I think)

The Regimental Skiing Trip was a whole new experience and one I'm probably unlikely to repeat. It also confirmed my wife's prophetic powers, 'He'll never ski!'

Actually, I came close to proving her wrong for, after two days of remedial tuition as I had arrived later than the main group because of Tough Guy, I was actually progressing pretty well even as far as 'red' graded slopes. The picture shows a section I skiied down several times without too great an incident though, admittedly, not a great deal of control.

However, at the end of the third things reached a level beyond which I didn't progress. For one thing, besides the many falls that didn't hurt much, I took one that did - on my shoulder coming off a drag lift. For some days afterwards when I ran I looked like a cross between Max Wall = stiff back because of bruising from general falland Napoleon Bonaparte = immobile arm due to injured shoulder!

For another, I was increasingly conscious of the fact that every year at least one person seemed to incur an injury - usually a damaged cruciate ligament which requires an operation and a long period of re-habilitation - and I did not want that person to be me.

Finally, the last two days skiing were on mountain routes - the Felhorn and Nebelhorn - and that added a whole new dimension. Steer wrong here and you're into the safety netting or worse. Suddenly rock climb climbing with its fixed anchor points and safety lines seemed a whole lot safer than hurtling down a hillside on two anti-gravity machines, though I suppose for seasoned skiiers that is the appeal.

In conclusion, a good week especially in terms of getting to know members of the Regiment better, wonderful scenery, a definite physical challenge and that realisation that, perhaps, I'm getting a bit old for some things.

Soooooooooooo cold

Sunday January 32nd it was entitled, Tough Guy 2009, the Year of the Gorilla. 5000 competitors, some wearing as little as a Borat mankini, gathered to the sound of a Scottish pipe band, to do battle with a 5 mile cross country run complete with The Brasher-Disley Steeplechase, the Bracken Maze Torture and Slalom - a fierce and sustained up and down a wooded hillside - followed by The Killing Fields a twenty three obstacle assault course with pleasures such as the Somme Surprise, The
Behemoth, Vietcong Tunnels, the Brandenburg Wall, the Death Plunge and the Water Tunnel.

I'd completed the summer variant which was hard, but not desperate, but in order to prove my manliness to someone - I'm not sure who - here I was again.

The course itself proved relatively easy, especially as I'd worked out last time the most efficient way to drag my somewhat aged and at best rather ungainly bones over, under, around and through the various obstacles. The real problem was the perishing cold - the air temperature was zero at best WITHOUT windchill - and, furthermore,large sections of water that had to be waded through, on occasions at neck height and at one point above head height! I myuldn't feel my feet for the last forty five minutes or so. Crazy, but I made it.

A quick, tepid shower, then on my way to Stansted for a flight to Germany to ski with the Army....

Shallowness, subjectivism and much spinning of plates in suburbia

I'm not going to mention the name of the church I visited last Sunday partly because I don't think that it's appropriate when you have negative things to say, but mainly because the negatives are probably present in most evangelical churches including even my own beloved St Cuthberts!

Let me start with the positive. This is an active, faithful, growing group of Christians with a warm sense of fellowship and a genuine commitment to ministry and outreach. However, tragically in my view, there were serious weaknesses on view last Sunday.

For one, every song and even the 18th Century hymn with which we concluded - evidence that this is a problem not confined to our own age - was radically subjective, in other words, exlusively about me and my relationship with God. Of course, there is a rightful place for the expression of such feelings, as the Psalms demonstrate, but it should be part of a balanced 'diet'. What the many visitors present must have thought one can only imagine? That the name of Jesus was only mentioned in the context of 'me' and that only occasionally says it all!

For another thing, there was no liturgy. This in itself is not wrong - not all must be Anglicans - but it so often leads to shallowness. Thus there was no gathering prayer, no confession, no creed, no structured intercession etc of any sort, not even the Lords Prayer. In my view, sensible and sensitive use of liturgy develops individual grit and corporate identity.

Finally, although the minister did not preach, he did virtually everything else apart from the reading (no pew bibles by the way or print version on the noticesheet) I am sure that I have been guilty of this myself, but when viewed 'from a distance' it feels all wrong as well as very uncontemporary. We have come so far in many areas why not reform and renewal on this?

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Mike Newman

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Coffee and Church

In NYC there is a Starbucks on every street corner - or so it seems. Most days I have breakfast in one - their Perfect Oatmeal with all the toppings and a fruit juice is not a bad start to the day - followed by at least one or two more visits! (my only excuse is that there is no kettle in the room)

eaving aside the debate about Starbucks killing off the competition, usually local and independent, I want to ask, why are these places so popular and what can the church learn? Several points

They are non judgemental. The relaxed slightly bohemian atmosphere is very welcoming particularly to younger people, though interestingly older people seem to feel at home here too. Yesterday, for example, I was joined at my table by a matriarchal looking lady resplendent in expensive gold jewellery and wearing an ankle length fur coat!

You are treated seriously which is a more positive way of saying that you can tailor your purchase to suit your personal wishes - double shot grande with skimmed milk to go!

You are given space - usually - even if you can't get those few comfy chairs. No one hurries you ought of the store so you can read, work, think whatever, though why they don't have free wi fi I don't know.

You can come on your own and feel OK. A bit like 8 o clock communion no one is going to trouble you and everything just happens.

So what can the churches learn?

Starbucks has grasped the culture we are living in - some would say that it has shaped it. Church needs to learn how to tune in.

We need to give people space. Anglican churches are better at this than most.  People need to be able to breath.

We need to learn how to value and respect all those we come into contact with. If they want to be we should let them be. Much of what we do at St Cuthberts already operates along these lines.

We need to articulate our non judgemental philosophy more and apply it consistently as well as explaining it to 'concerned' insiders. People know what they are getting when they come to Starbucks.

There are an increasing number of single people in our society. We need to think carefully about how well we accomodate them?

Made a little less than the angels...

I'm sure that the author of Psalm 8 didn't have this in mind the 2500 or more years ago since he wrote it, but it is worth pondering the miracle of flight. Currently I am being transported across the Atlantic at a speed of 629 mph (jet stream assisted) and at an altitude of 39,034 feet above sea level The outside temperature is around minus 15 degrees centigrade and we have travelled 1640 of the 3300 or so miles between NYC and Manchester. Meanwhile I am sitting in perfect comfort - well sort of - wearing only a T shirt just having been served a hot meal and having enjoyed a glass of red wine - my first alcohol this trip. What ingenuity and power is ours! Let us pray fervently that we use it for good and not bad, for weal and not for woe.