Pastafarianism

Spaghetti and marshmallows. A non-typical YF night.

 

Heckled

Unity.

Pretty good theme for a service this weekend.  We split the service, with the Associate Minister doing the sermon, while I did the prayers and insight.  Insight, for the uninitiated, is an introductory thought to the service.  A sort of substitute children's address for those occasions where there are no children.

Early on in the week, the AM and I exchanged emails regarding the service, and I suggested that, there were things that were a problem before the referendum that were still a problem after it.  It is only through us pulling together that we will be able to try to make a difference.  It was an idea I had the other week regarding the stories that have fallen out of the news, or have been obscured by bigger stories.  Perhaps we should devote some of our prayers of intercession to the stories from the newspapers from three months ago. So there are still people going hungry and relying on foodbanks.  There are also the problems of people being homeless, or being affected by the bedroom tax.  And on an international level, the Ebola crisis hasn't gone away.  It is only...

"BUT THIS IS SCOTLAND!"

...through working together...  wait, what?!?!?  Someone in the middle of the congregation has taken exception to me mentioning international affairs. And she took exception loudly.  I can't remember exactly what I said afterwards, but it was along the lines of, yes, this is Scotland, and the people of scotland have always worked to help those in need at home or abroad.  Perhaps I should have ignored it, but the hair trigger in me went off.  Besides, she was loud enough that everyone in the congregation must have heard.  I certainly heard her from at least 5 metres away.

This morning I was using my notes as a guide only.  I was being conversational, rather than scripted, and she threw me right off.  From what was a good and flowing delivery, she threw me enough that I had to resort to reading the rest of my script directly from my notes.  I was exceptionally angry.

I don't do this stuff for my benefit.  I genuinely want to help bring people closer to God.  I have had a few weeks recently where the topics haven't really spoken to me and I have struggled. While I certainly don't spend all week writing sermons, I'm certainly thinking about it for most of the week, bouncing around thoughts before they hit the page.   But I still want to try to get up there and make a difference. 

I came very close to leaving halfway through the service, once my bit was complete, but it was only because I wanted to hear what the AM had to say that I stayed. 

I was so annoyed that I went out for a cycle in the afternoon to clear my head.  30 miles later and I was starting to feel almost human.

I don't object to people objecting to my sermons.  Most of them have the good courtesy to let me know after the service where they object.  I have had some pretty good conversations as a result. Heckling makes you look like you are in a comedy club, and you have had a glass too many.

261 children

There's 261 Nigerian children still missing that were abducted in mid April.  Their only "crime" was to have the audacity to believe that they were entitled to an education.  Boko Haram begs to differ.


That was the part of the message yesterday that I felt I was really being lead towards speaking.  The rest felt like 59 minutes of padding.  It was just one of those weeks where the sermon I was planning on giving took a sudden change in direction at a point in the week where it was just far too late to do anything about it.  So as a result, it felt a bit disjointed, or somehow lacking.

I don't think it was a bad service, but it was just too far into the week for me to change everything and start again.  I'm not yet confident enough to go completely off script and just wing it.  Perhaps next time.

Ice Bucket Challenge

If you haven't heard of the ice bucket challenge, go off and have a Google moment.  We will wait here...

Has anyone commented yet, how nice it is to have clean fresh water poured over your head?  783 million people do not have access to clean water, and 2.5 billion do not have access to sanitation.*

Do the ice water challenge with the sort of water that those 783 million are forced to drink, and it's not as much fun. 

Why not give Oxfam a visit?  Buy them a drink.

With thanks to one of my trainee colleagues for the idea.


*source UN.

Fasting and Ramadan

One of my colleagues was up at the crack of dawn today.  She prepared the worlds supply of samosas and pakora before bringing them into work for sale in aid of Muslim Aid.  They tasted so good, that she almost convinced me that vegetables might not be all that bad.

Cooking always gives me the munchies, so I have a lot of respect for her in that she was observing a fast, yet still prepared enough food to keep a portion of the Civil Service snacking until well into the afternoon.

So rather than making a big song and dance about giving up chocolate for Lent, should we try to do more in our period of fasting.  Would we be better people for engaging in acts of charity, while at the same time undergoing a reflective period?

I've got a few months to think about it.

Pulpit Supply

My supervisor has made it clear that I must take time off from placement.  He never said what I had to do with those days, so the other day I did a bit of pulpit supply for a friend. 

This was a strange experience, because all the other times I have undertaken pulpit supply in the past, I have at least visited the building at least once before, or have tried to get along and see a service there.  This time I went into the encounter completely blind. 

The two churches were located about 10 miles apart, and the time between the two services, allowing for an hours worth of service was only 15 minutes.  I arrived early at the first service so I had time to meet the organist, discuss hymns etc.  As people filtered into the church, I exchanged pleasantries with some of them, but I wasn’t able to get round all of them and say hello in person.  After the service, I had to hand over my microphone and make a fast departure to the second church.  I didn’t even have time for a handshake on the door.  With it being the summer holidays, I didn’t have a children’s address, and there was no choir, but I was aware that my service had to finish in absolutely no more than an hour.  The first service just felt a little constrained, and I missed the pastoral element of being able to meet with people afterwards.  And while there appeared to be a tray of tea and biscuits laid out, I certainly had no time to join in.

I arrived in time for the second service, aware that all it would have taken was a tailback on the major road I had to use, for the second service to be delayed.  I had time to come in, find the radio mic, and have a word with the organist about incidental music, before I had to start over again.  I felt a little less restricted in the second service, and was able to take things a little slower.  I did have time afterwards to meet people at the door, but there was no cup of tea, so contact with people was limited to the most basic of pleasantries.  They all seemed like nice folk.

There was an element of a rock tour about the services.  Turn up, do your thing on stage, and then “Elvis has left the building” without meeting the public.  I was there to do pulpit supply, and I see part of that role as to be there to talk and to listen to anyone who has issues they want to share.  So while I think I did OK with my speaking part, I may have unavoidably let the congregation down with the listening part.

Placement so far.

This might come over as a bit of a moan.  Yes, I am enjoying my placement, and my supervisor is very good.  I think it is just the comparison with my last placement that makes this seem a little frustrating.  Last time I was unemployed through the whole length of my placement, so there was a lot more I could drop in on.  This time, I have a 9-5 job, so the only things I have been able to encounter have been those which take place in the evening or weekend.  It’s the holiday club this week, and there are daytime services, and team meetings which I can’t get involved in.

So I am learning about the dark arts of team ministry, but I am not as able to immerse myself in congregational life as I was on my first placement.  I don’t want to get to the end of October, when I have probation lined up, and be told that I haven’t done enough.

This brings up a bigger question.  Is the Ordained Local Ministry a ministry that is suitable only for those who are unemployed, retired, or can work strange shifts while training?  Or even after training?  

There is a considerable commitment required in order to become an OLM, including an expected 20 hours study each week per unit studied (typically two units per term), three hours per week plus a Sunday and all this over and above the need to hold down a job.  You need to be a strong time manager in order to ensure you maintain a healthy work/life balance. 

Two Forty Over One Twenty part two

See yesterday...

I know the side effects leaflet for drugs can make grim reading. For example, many headache remedies may cause headaches.

My blood pressure pills may cause constipation and diarrhea.

Constipation and diarrhea.

Simultaneously?

In a dark sort of way, this could be interesting.

Two Forty Over One Twenty

I am still sucking air.  This is a good thing.

On Thursday night I stopped being able to suck air.  This was a bad thing.

One am and I went upstairs to bed.  Until this point I had been feeling absolutely fine.  No signs of impending doom.  And the stairs I climbed were not like the north face of the Eiger.  They were just like the stairs you climb to your bed.  Fourteen of them, rising eight or so inches per riser.  For someone who is thirty-eight and a bit, this is not something you or I would break a sweat over.

I performed my regular nightly ritual of reclaiming the duvet from Mrs Gerbil, lay down and stopped breathing.

fuck.

I had absolutely no will to breathe on my own.  I really had to force myself to suck air in.  I realised that sleeping at this time may have some pretty bad consequences. 

I sat up.  Going downstairs, breathing returned to something approaching normal, especially when sitting down.  I sat for ten minutes or so, then returned up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire, lay down and couldn't breathe again.  Imagine the feeling of being tickled to the point of being unable to breathe, without the enjoyable wrestling beforehand.  I just wasn't prepared to suck air without a pretty concerted effort on my part.

So that's the point that I woke Mrs G up.

Then we phoned the NHS. for a bit of advice.


They sent an ambulance, without me even asking for one.

And then two student ambulance workers saw some numbers on my blood pressure reading that made them wince.  The ambulance that had three on board when it arrived, left with four.

I arrived in casualty, was poked and prodded, before being relocated round the corner to "Somewhere Better." "Somewhere Better" turned out to be Resuscitation, where the wall behind me was adorned with the sort of medical kit that only gets used on you if the shit has seriously hit your fan.  They wouldn't even let me walk there, in fact the two nurses seemed to go a little pale when I made the suggestion.

The rest of the night was spent with my feet hanging off the end of an A&E trolley, wired to a machine that took a hissy fit every time an electrode fell from my chest.  Medical tape just does not stick to my skin, except where there is hair, then it sticks better than Evo-stik and removes hair better than waxing.

In the morning I was moved to "Somewhere Better", which turned out to be the Cardiac unit.  Amongst many questions, I was asked my mobile phone number (07777 777777) My wifes mobile number (07777 666666) and my Doctor ("They never gave me their mobile number..." "No Sir, just the name of the doctors surgery."   "Oh...  Sorry... "  (I'm not at my sharpest at that time.)  Best question of all, "Have your bowels moved recently?"  What's the answer to that?  "Yes, but they left a forwarding address..."

So for the rest of the day I was poked and prodded.  I have seen my heart on ultrasound.  I have met the hospital chaplain, and we talked pastoral care.  I even met Mrs G's new supervisor who was in visiting.

So it turns out I have blood pressure that is high enough to be measured in pounds per square inch.  240 over 120.  I now have some drugs to take, and a letter that is to go to my GP.  And they still don't know if the breathing thing is related.  Yet had it not been for the breathing problems, I wouldn't have known about the blood pressure.

While I am a little overweight, I never feel unwell.  No headaches, no strange symptoms.  Nothing.  So that is why you need to get your blood pressure checked this week.

Missing the Point.

MP criticises Oxfam for its recent poverty campaign. Cite
An MP, regardless of the flavour, shouldn't be shocked at the fact that a charity condemns Government policy for causing poverty.  Our MPs should be disgusted by the fact that enough meals were given out by food banks last year to feed a third of the UK population. 

That's shocking.

That's worth condemning.

Go Oxfam.