Raw prayer

I heard today that a local youth I knew, Peter, died on Christmas Day, aged 17. He leaves his mother, Margaret and his father, Stephen. Remember them.

And as you remember, remember this...

At the bottom of the mountain, Jesus meets a boy with epilepsy and his family (I go back ot this incident often) and the father says 'help my unbelief', as any of us might, and the mother says nothing, as any of us might, and Jesus says to the disciples 'this comes right only with prayer' and that's what any of us might discover through the Holy Spirit at the bottom of any mountain.

Dying day

Tomorrow will be my dying day:
the day before yesterday was yours.
You didn’t buy a ticket,
you didn’t book a place
and yet there you were
suddenly at the front of the queue.
Never one to push yourself forward,
you had been propelled there
by a few ill-chosen breaths.
Of course it’s all behind you now,
while we that are left grow old
and still have to face the final hurdle;
waiting for the chance to catch a note
of that endless chorus you now sing
and hoping this will not break us.

For today, God of all,
give us peace, one more time.

JAL: 27.12.2009
In memory of Peter

Remembering the cross

Harry, aged 85, keeps this cross in his pocket. It was given to him 15 years ago by Constance, who died three weeks after she gave it to him. He keeps it in the pocket where he has his loose change and every time he puts his hand in his pocket he feels it there. It reminds him of his friendship with Constance, a disabled woman from Jamaica who he used to give a lift to church to each week, and of his committment as a Christian.
Baptised as an Anglican, he tried the Baptists as a teenager, before become a Presbyterian after the war, like his late wife, Ruby. Apart from when he had a virus last year for a couple of weeks, he never misses going to Waverley URC, where he is the oldest male member.

You can find plenty of these little crosses to make or for sale on the internet. As we approach cross-week I thought I'd make a video piece about crosses. I've been using some photos of crosses in the school assemblies I've been doing for the last few weeks. Today it was year 7 and they were a bit braver/less self-consious than some of the other groups, so a few people offered their views and opinions. On Friday there's an Easter bonnet competition.

Cross-wise Christ,
with us still
in love, loss and memory;
as we approach your cross-week
keep us mindful of you and each other,
in life and in death.

JAL: 01.04.2009

School repeats Crucifixion

Last night's performance of The Crucifixion by Stainer at Silcoates School was sung by a mixed aged choir of around 60 people, outnumbering the audience by quite a few. One of the best things about this school is the way it encourages people of all ages to work together in many different ways.

Although this particular cantata might seema bit old-fashioned (it was first performed in 1887, which was more than half a century after Silcoates first opened) it was actually a very powerful experience. It gaves us all a chance to revist the story, even if the words were not in contemporary English. Malefactors is a word I really use these days and there were one or two other 'Kenneth Williams' moments, but to hear the words of the Bible sung in recitative is an interesting way of topping up your remembered bible.

The last line, sung by the solo tenor, whispering away to silence: 'And he gave up the ghost' was amazing. Yes, he died. Once and for all. As do we all. Don't forget that. Don't water it down. Don't fudge it. Crucified, dead and buried.

A death in the family

It's now one year since we interred my mum's ashes in the churchyard of St Mary's Hatfield Broad Oak, Essex. It snowed that day and a few hardy villagers came to help us with the task. Today we learnt of the death of another Essex girl, Jade Goodey. I'll not be the first or the last to write about her. I was remembering the hymn by Dora Greenwell 'And art thou come with us to dwell' in which we sing

Thou bringest all again; with Thee
Is light, is space, is breadth and room
For each thing fair, beloved, and free
To have its hour of life and bloom.

I was also thinking of Madge Saunders, who's funeral was held yesterday in Kingston. I found a new photograph of her on another site in which it says she was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2005.



This morning I heard about another well remembered woman. Constance had been a member of Waverley URC until her death in 1994. She had made a small embroidered cross that Harry, my informant, still carries in his pocket. He told me the story today. I hope to find out more about her in the next few weeks.




There's nothing else quite like a death in the family. We need our stories to nudge us further into life even when movement seems impossible. This week's entry in the URC Prayer handbook [still available from http://www.urc.org.uk]/ includes the story of Tony, a builder who built a business on pumpkin finance, a good thing to consider in these credit crunch days. The prayer for today on page 29 reads




Draw us to you,
God of all,
that in our dying
and our living
we may bring
glory and honour
to your name
as we seek to serve you
with integrity.

[copyright Janet Lees, for the 2009 URC Prayer Handbook 'Hush the Storm']