Sunday 27 January 2013

Fifty Acts 22. Minehead North

Friday and Saturday the snow was very much in the way.  In the early hours of Sunday morning, however, the rain has washed away much of the snow, leaving piles of slush.  It was into this that I stepped out to walk to Minhead North.  Part way there, the sleet came at me horizontally, and I found myself in a bus stop outside the Baptist Church waiting for the worst to pass over.  I got enough of a reprieve to continue my journey, otherwise I would be visiting my third baptist congregation.

Minehead High Street runs uphill, with a railway bridge in the middle.  I am told that you could at one point stand at the bottom of the hill and see the top of the street under the railway bridge.  Due to mining subsidence, the ground level has dropped so much in the middle, that this is no longer possible.  The ground level must have dropped by about 3-4 metres.

While musing on this, it was amusing for me at least to have "Don't build your house on the sandy land" as the childrens hymn.  Surely round here they are aware of having stable foundations.

The Congregation is worshiping in the hall, due to extensive renovations in the sanctuary.  The hall was packed, and it appeared there was a disporportionate number of men present, because the male part of "o for a thousand tongues to sing" was especially resonant today.

The congregation were especially welcoming, and I heard some good stories of people's faith journeys.  One woman, who was particularly new to the faith found getting into the bible to be a bit difficult.  I think because she had started amongst the letters, so I suggested some parts to read, the gospels mainly, and explained which one we think was written first.  Last term studying Mark didn't go to waste.

I'm starting to draw up a mental list of places where I'd like to do a placement, and this was one I would like to consider.  It would be nice to have a placement that is in bicycle range.  My home presbytery is actually the next one east from here, and I would rather not have to trek miles to get to a church.  It can make for a long day after a day at work.  So I'll keep this in mind.


Sunday 20 January 2013

Fifty Acts 21. The End of the Road

The road conditions today would make my plan of taking the bike for a spin just a little too accurate a description.  And next door's cat has taken up residence underneath the cover.  So today I'm leaving the cat in peace and taking a walk to my local church.

We've been living in Minehead* for about ten years now, but this was the first time I had been to Sunday worship at the Parish Church.  It's at the end of the street, and it's likely that, wherever Mrs G ends up, the manse is going to be further away from her kirk than we are from the Parish Church.  Like so many other people, the church I'm a member of is a good few miles away, in the next presbytery.  We've never really got round to finding a more local church of our own.  We've been to the end of the road a few times to vote, and we did the Watch Night service there once, but never actually visited on a Sunday.  Should we take more time to support our local congregations, even though we might want to worship elsewhere?

The Church is very similar to, but a mirror image of, one along the road.  The sanctuary is trapezoidal in shape, and the three sides that are in front of you are brick with small skylights at the top.   To me it feels pretty uncomfortable. I like curves, or ninety degree bends, not funny angles.  I worked in an office building that was a series of stacked hexagons, and it was a relief to leave there to move into an office with precise ninety degree bends. 

Like many congregations, this one was in vacancy, and the service was conducted by an Auxiliary Minister I had last met when he was a probationer, some time in 1993.  He's a pleasant chap that spoke in a very broad Scots, and was great with the children, inviting them to dance in the aisles during their hymn.

The welcome was good, both at the door, inside by the Session Clerk, and later by members of the congregation.  I have heard some interesting gossip...  But the person  was chatting with over a brew told me that they had plans, but they had put everything on hold until they got a new minister.  I've never been in a vacancy situation, but I did say that they shouldn't stop everything, and they should still try to be an active congregation.  He also complained about the website looking a bit dated, but I told him that they had got that right.  The front page of their website had the important details of where they are and when they worshiped.  And it seemed to be updated weekly with the latest news and the order of service.  I told him that it's all very well having a flashy front page, but if the content isn't there, then people find it frustrating. 

So they are an active congregation, keen to do things, if feeling a little on hold.  Will I go back?  Probably, but it's unlikely to become my regular place of worship.  At least I'll be assured of a warm welcome.

*Another Minehead, not this one.





Monday 14 January 2013

sci-fi vs religion

A return to one of my well worn topics, science versus religion. 

The parallel paths of religion and science fiction

Science fiction brings up religious conflicts

 


Read more here: http://www.theolympian.com/2011/11/05/1864816/the-parallel-paths-of-religion.html#storylink=cpy

Wednesday 9 January 2013

Zen And the Art of Automobile Maintenance.

Grudgingly, I am discovering that I am reasonably good at fitting towbars.  We fitted one to our old Polo, so we could carry the bikes when we went on trips/holidays.  We didn't get much use out of that bar, before we had the motorbike crash and then later traded the car. 

Then we didn't ride bikes for a couple of years before Mrs G got back into it over the summer.  So When I realised that I was missing cycling, we bought a towbar for the Skoda and fitted that in September.  In November the Skoda was written off.  We were hit from behind on the 3rd November, which was even more of a pain because we had just spent a reasonable amount of cash repairing the engine.  Ah well, it's only a car, and we've now got a nice Mazda.

We still want to take the bikes places, so today towbar number three was fitted.  The purpose of this blogpost is so that some time in the future I remember exactly how to do what I had to do.

Towbars are bolted to the chassis of the car.  How this happens differs from one vehicle to the next, and for todays effort I was presented with a bolt on a stick. 

This has to be fed up through a hole in the bottom of the chassis rails, and should come out the side.  The hole that it goes in is not much wider than the bolt, and the stick, while being the thing that helps you maneuver the bolt out the side actually gets in the way.  It's at times like this I really miss my Dad, because he would probably have worked this out quicker than I did.

The solution, developed after an hour or more of barked knuckles is to the right.  I took a roll of masking tape, made a couple of turns round the bolt before making a paper rope out of a foot or so of tape.  The tape was firm enough to be fed up through the hole at the bottom and then out the side. 
I was then confident enough to put the bolt/stick into the chassis rail  and very carefully draw the bolt out the side hole.  The pic to the left is looking up from under the car showing the offending holes.  now all I had to do was fit a spacer, the towbar side rail, two washers and a nut, repeat four times and torque the whole thing up.  


Note to self.  When fitting bolts in confined spaces, masking tape is your friend.  Or gaffer tape, because like The Force, it has a light side, a dark side, and holds the universe together.


Fifty Acts 20. Choral Evensong

I have been working in Edinburgh for years, and for the majority of that time I drove past St Mary's Cathedral.  There's something odd about the way the wind blows there, because each time I drove past the door, the bike would be hit by a gust of wind, as if it was coming from their doors.  It was pretty odd, but I could predict the point on the junction that it would hit the bike and would be expecting it.

St Mary's is a spectacular building inside, Sir George Gilbert Scott at his best, and I'd like to return to spend some time taking in the atmosphere.

Well on Sunday, Mrs G and I took the bike over to Edinburgh for the 3.30 Choral Evensong. I'm starting to get the hang of Episcopal services, and I'm a bit better at keeping up, although I do make sure I've got people around me so I know when to stand or sit. 

For me, I had a strong feeling that the worship was being conducted purely for my benefit.  That everyone involved in the service was doing it for me.  I always feel part of worship, but this was something different, that they were trying to save me.  A feeling of being minstered to, rather than being ministered with.  That's not to say that I think any other worship is in any way lacking.

What am I trying to say here?  I don't know, but it's my blog and I'll ramble if I want to.

It was...  just.

I'm starting to like the Episcopal way of doing things. 

Tuesday 8 January 2013

It's a Sign

Today I saw a sign.

I was in a lift.  It's a sign I've been seeing for at least the past four years, probably even more than that, as I can't remember if it was there before the lift refurbishment.  But today I actually paused, observed,  and considered it's meaning.

There's a sign on the wall that is designed to glow in the dark, so in an emergency, I'm going to be able to read it's message.  I'm in a lift that has lighting, and probably even has emergency lighting.  So the chance of me seeing the sign glowing of its own devices are pretty slim. 

Yet, it's comforting to know that, if I ever find myself in an emergency situation, trapped in a lift, with no power, and no backup lighting, there will be a calmiing green glow from the corner of the tin box. The sign could be a bit more useful.  Using pictures of running stick men, it says:

"It's an emergency, you should have taken the stairs."

There's nothing like good advice...



Wednesday 2 January 2013

I Got Out to Play!

New Year's Day and it's great to be out.  Nobody on the road, except for a few hardy souls. Not too cold either.  This sums up my motorbiking in 2012.  Some pleasant moments, accompanied by an awful lot of water.

Some of my rainy trips down to Highland Cathedral involved being pressure washed for two hours.  Answer me this.  How can I drive for two hours in the pouring rain, and when I get to my destination, the bike is still mucky?  I thought water made you clean...

Tuesday 1 January 2013

New Year

2012 was the year that the Church of Scotland accepted me to train as an Ordained Local Minister.  2013 is the year that I actually start the placement part of training.  While I'm two units into my academic study, and I've been at one candidates conference, it's not feeling real yet.  Hopefully when I actually start a placement, things will get moving.

I've always been open with my colleagues about what I'm doing, and while there's many who are not religious, they have all been supportive and genuinely interested.  I've had colleagues open up to me and unload their problems in a way that they never did before I started this process, and I've tried to be as supportive as I can.  Those are the moments where I feel a bit pastoral.  Is this part of what ministry is about, listening?  I think I can do that bit.


Through my year out I've been taking the chance to meet Christians in congregations across Scotland.  Some of the tales I've heard won't get blogged, for pastoral confidentiality, and because I'd probably get the important details wrong!  It's certainly been an interesting experience, and has led me to question my ideas about how different groups of people view life. 

While I've been visiting different congregations, there's one in particular that Mrs Gerbil and I visit on a regular basis.  It's been good to have a place that we can worship together, as our home congregation is in a different town.  We've had a great welcome to a genuinely friendly and supportive congregation, and thanks also to their minister, especially for the Mondays in Advent.

Last year, at my first annual meeting, I was asked what my goals were for the year.  I said that I planned on trying to find out exactly what a Christian was.  All the candidates I've met that I thought were outstanding Christian types have not got through, and here I am, perhaps the least Christian person I know, working towards becoming part of God's ministry.  (although aren't we all part of God's ministry in our own special way...?)  And I need to work on the reflective practitioner thing.  Read more, reflect more.  You are more likely to get comment on architecture than worship in this, what I'd like to call my reflective journal.  (have I just reflected?)  So I need to become more of a Christian.

But I also need to become less of a Christian. While I'm not that much over weight, a few years of very light office work, and an over-enthusiasm for the sweet stuff means I could do with getting rid of a kilo.  Or ten.  I sort of tried to lose a bit of weight last year, failed, and I am pretty much back where I started.  So I just need to get a bit more exercise and eat a few less cakes and I'll be fine.  I reckon if I blog that I want to get rid of a couple of stone then I might just shame myself into a slimmer figure.  Seriously though, I've got a family history of diabetics and if I don't do something now, I'm going to have big problems soon.  and a less healthy me means a less effective minister.  Time to get my bike out of the shed.  I used to enjoy cycling, and I may even become a mamil!

But in other news, I always fancied being rich enough to retire before I'm forty.  Well I'm a good few years under forty, and I'm retiring.  Or at least, I'm taking voluntary redundancy.  I've not cracked the rich bit, but that's two out of three.  So in early February I'll be officially leaving work.  I do have a couple of ideas for jobs that will keep me occupied, but I'm not too worried.  I'm sure I'll find something.  This is an opportunity, and I'm trusting that God has something lined up for me.  I've seen too many things happening over the past couple of years to believe otherwise.

So may God continue to give me (and you) the strength to do outrageous things.