Still Quarrying: Understanding The Man Who Is Cold.

It was in my Ardeer days and it was getting near the turn of the year.   I was contacted by a local funeral director.  Was I free to conduct a funeral on Hogmanay?  There were few details about the deceased.   Although he had family there had been no meaningful contact for many years.   He had been found dead in his home.  The Social Work Department were responsible for all the arrangements.   It would be one service at the local cemetery.

The day when it arrived was cold and grey.  The only people present at the grave-side were social workers who took the cords and lowered the coffin into the grave, and a young couple who were neighbours of the deceased.  The service over I asked the funeral director if any more details had come to light about this man and the circumstances of his death.  With a pained expression not far from anger Ian said: ‘How can you expect a man who is warm to understand a man who is cold.  Hypothermia.’   

So many things went through my mind as I made my way home from that cemetery.  A lonely death in the cold.  How can that happen in a generally warm-hearted community?  There may be reasons why people become detached from their families and become socially isolated but does anyone deserve an end of life like this?  

It comes back to me now after all these years when I hear so much talk about fuel costs and the dangers many people will be facing in this coming Winter.   It is anticipated that heating an average house will become so much of a financial burden for some that the choice will have to be made whether to heat or eat.   This in twenty-first century Western society.  

Getting back to the words of the funeral director.  They come from Alexander Solzhenitzyn’s novel ‘One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich’ which tells of one man’s experience of a Soviet labour camp in the early 1950s.  Among many hardships the prisoners have to endure fierce cold.   The words which are spoken by a prisoner are essentially about compassion or rather the lack of it.   True compassion is when we can meaningfully identify with someone’s suffering and thereby seek to alleviate it.   And very often that can only happen when we ourselves experience the pain or deprivation of the other.  

In my time in the parish ministry I had known so many people who had received a cancer diagnosis and who went through demanding treatment.   I felt deeply for them but I cannot say that I really understood until I went through the same experience.   Until I was diagnosed I had no experience as a patient and had never spent a single night in hospital.  I would plead that I was not unsympathetic to cancer sufferers.  There were times when I wept with them.  But that is not the same as understanding.   Some people may have that gift without the experience but some of us need the shock of the experience.  

I have often wondered how much of a shock it was for Jesus, the eternal Son of God,  to take on a human personality, body, mind and spirit.  I once heard Donald Macleod speaking of Jesus’ terror in  Gethsemene as he contemplated appearing before God as the sin of the world and receiving His judgement.  He could have no conception as to what that would be like and explains that heart rending cry on the cross: ‘Why have you forsaken me?’  In that moment Jesus experienced His Father turning His face away.   Jesus no longer felt the Father near.  

There is much that in the end we must consign to the category of ‘mystery’.   But however dark that moment of abandonment on the cross, it brings Jesus closer to us.   I have often given thought to Hebrews 4: 14-16.  Jesus shown to be sympathetic to our weaknesses, who has been tempted or tested in every way, ‘just as we are’.   The cross shows us that He even understands the loss of God, to feel abandoned, to have the eternal communion  between Father and Son disrupted.  But in that very cry - ‘Why have you forsaken me?’ - he shows us the way through these times.  These words come from Psalm 21.  The Psalms are the heart’s response to God in the varying circumstances of life not least the darkest and most challenging.   In His worst of experiences Jesus still turns His heart to God.  He is still connected to the ancient Scriptures.  The question why is on his lips but He is still crying to God.  

So we can say that with the true understanding Jesus brings to the human condition He also shows us that the way through our worst of times is to persevere with prayer and the Word.   ‘How can you expect a man who is warm to understand a man who is cold?’  We have a Saviour who understands completely and has passed through the darkest valley into the light and peace of His Father’s presence which is His will for those He died for.  

Still Quarrying - 'Held!'

It has only been four days since I officially retired but already people are asking me how it feels.  That is not easy to say since time is being filled with preparations for the Big Move.  There has not been a lot of opportunity for reflection.   But you take for granted that this will be one feature of the days ahead: more time for reflection.  And then there are the  things people have been suggesting to me:  more time for the family,  opportunity too enjoy a slower pace of life, writing that book that many seem to think is bursting to get out.   The thing is, I am tentative about making too many plans.  I cannot help thinking about colleagues who were not given much of a retirement before they were overwhelmed by what George Mackay Brown called ‘death’s slow weatherings and sudden bolts’.  Plans were made, projects started, the future seemingly brimmed with new opportunity,  but the shadow fell.  

There is a voice within telling me that I should not be thinking this way but reality has to be faced.  Jesus once told a story about a man whose elaborate plans for retirement were scarcely made before the curtain was brought down on his life.  (Luke 12: 16-21).  And  I suppose living with long-term cancer tends to colour your perspective.  

This is not to say that plans should never be made but in facing the future your priority has always to be the God who promises to be with His people in every circumstance and no matter how deep the darkness promises to be working out His good and loving purpose.  His plans may be different.  This is where faith is given an opportunity.  Faith in the God who is revealed in the experience of the ancient people of Israel and supremely in the ministry of Jesus.  Faith that is expressed in Scripture in deeply personal terms.  

There is a song which says:

‘Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the water

 Put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea.’

This sort of thing does not appeal to everyone, tends to engender a spiritual queasiness.   But you do not go far in Scripture to find faith expressed in such terms.  The Psalms reflect the worst of human experiences: persecution, disease, unbearable pain, depression, fear of death.  In Psalm 73 there is a reflection of a time of deep spiritual darkness when the Psalmist’s heart ‘was grieved and my spirit embittered.’  (v. 21).   Yet faith survives:

‘Yet I am always with you ;

 you hold me by my right hand.’  

 You guide me with your counsel,

 and afterwards you will take me into glory.’  (Vv. 23-24.)

This is what Eugene Petersen describes as ‘earthy spirituality’, recognising the brokenness of human existence and how it stretches all our inner resources but still believing that God is in the midst as our Companion, directing us forward according to His good and loving purpose.  The supreme assurance of this is in the life and ministry of Jesus.  We need to reflect more on John 1: 14: ‘The Word became flesh and lived amongst us.’  Flesh with all its frailties, physical, psychological and spiritual.  So we can face the future with confidence that whoever circumstances fall to us God is present holding us by the hand.  

Psalm 73 ends with one of the most complete statements of faith in Scripture:

‘My flesh and my heart may fail,

 But God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever.’  (v. 26.)

The plans will formulate I have no doubt.  But more than anything else I pray that this faith will dominate.  

Retirement Looming

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It's been a while since my last blog but you don't want to hear about  a number of excuses.  I thought however, that it would be good to let you see the substance of my penultimate  pastoral letter in the Church magazine.   Here goes:

In the big clear-out I came across the notes I made for the first sermon I preached in a service.  I think I was seventeen at the time.  The Youth Fellowship had been given the opportunity to lead evening worship.  Afterwards people were encouraging and there then began a dawning that this was what I was meant to do.  Shadows were to fall in the years ahead.  Uncertainty, disillusionment, doubt, perhaps even resistance.  But the call was strong and eventually I came to the place where I could not imagine a fulfilled life apart from the Ministry of Word and Sacrament. 

 

People around me expressed doubts.  Was this really what I wanted to do?  But I had enough insight and experience to know that God did not call a ‘type’.  In fact, in the early 1970s when I entered a fuller Christian commitment people were emerging as preachers and evangelists who in style and presentation were a long way from what had come to be seen as the norm.  When I saw Nigel Goodwin standing in the pulpit of St George’s Tron in his floral shirt and knee length purple suede boots, I began to think that maybe I could fit in!  In then end you accept that God knew what he was doing when He put this pressure on your will.

 

It has never been anything less that than challenging.  When I was inducted to Stevenston: Ardeer a senior minister gave the ‘charges’ at the Service of Induction.  He was generally encouraging but he said that in the end there was one thing I could be sure of: ‘You’ll never win!’   I had enough experience of Church life to know what he meant but as I face the prospect of retirement the sense of incompleteness, even failure, is far outweighed by the privilege of having the opportunity to serve as a parish minister.  To be with people in their most heart-breaking and vulnerable times is never easy but it has been an inspiration to see God’s people finding a way forward in the promises of Christ.  This is not to mention days of celebration when Gabrielle and I have been included as part of the family.  Baptisms and marriages come with a sense of new hope and ministers experience this more than most.  

 

It all comes together to make a final parting very hard.  Especially at this time in the Church of Scotland when the future of many congregations is in doubt.  It would be less than honest to say this does not weigh heavily on me.  But as there was a sense of beginning all those years ago so there comes a sense of major change.  I can’t bring myself to say, ‘the end’.  I am not convinced that 25 September will see the end of ministry for me.  I continue to hope and pray that I will have the health and strength to be available to serve in some capacity however limited.  Whatever else has to be set aside I’ll be holding on to a couple of clerical collars.  And maybe the blogs will be more frequent!

 

‘You’ll never win,’ he said.  Well, we don’t in this life.  Not completely.  But Paul said: ‘I press on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenwards in Christ Jesus.’ (Philippians 3: 14). Whatever the future holds for us we are united in this faith that we are part of the Great Project to bring heaven and earth together, a renewed creation in which God’s people see the fulfilment of all His promises.  Nothing more to cry over and greater opportunities for service.  

 

Yours pressing on,  

Fergus.  

Still Quarrying: Ouch!

 I cannot say that I revere Robert Burns to the extent that many do.  He got it right, however, when he declared toothache to be ‘the hell o’ a’ diseases.’   There were stories during lockdown of poor souls who were pulled into this hell and were driven to hair-raising cures because no appointment was possible with their dentist.   Last week I could sympathise.  The pain came and went but when it came it went completely up the left side of my face and rendered me more doolally than normal.  I once heard someone say that when you have it you are completely turned in on yourself.  You are thinking only of two people: yourself and the dentist.  Thankfully appointments were available and relief eventually came.

It has been one of the blessings of the last two years that while there have been some low days I have never actually experienced any significant pain.  But it has been known for multiple myeloma sufferers to have problems with their teeth so the imagination goes into overdrive.  As with anything to do with illness, however, perspective is important.  The pain came in waves.  It was not constant.  So I could get  on with things that needed to be done.   Furthermore, I knew that the problem would be solved.  My dentist is one of many carers whose interest and expertise has been a blessing over the last two years.  

It was just another indication of how vulnerable, fragile and unreliable is the human body.  We take great care clothing it, shaping it and protecting it from mishap but its destiny through the years  is diminution and ultimately death.  No one was more conscious of this that Paul.  It would appear from his letters that he was not physically strong.   There are various theories as to what was his particular problem but there are enough references to indicate occasional weakness.  In his letter to the churches in Galatia he expresses appreciation of the care he received when he came among them not in the best of health.  In his second letter to the Christians in Corinth he refers to what seems be be a continuing problem which he refers to as ‘a thorn in my flesh.’  (2 Corinthians 12: 7)

It’s no wonder that he took great comfort and encouragement from the hope that flowed from the Resurrection of Jesus and the promise of complete renewal in body, mind and spirit.  In 2 Corinthians 4 he paints a picture of the Christian as a jar of clay which nonetheless holds a ‘treasure’ which is the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  A jar of clay is fragile and such is every Christian but in that Paul sees a purpose.  Our fragility highlights the fact that any power seen in our lives is by the grace of God.  The weaker we are the stronger is the power of God in our lives.  

This comes through in Paul’s teaching time and again.  There is no reason to lose heart when our physical strength is stripped back because God is still working in our lives and can reveal His glory.  How often have we seen this in lives that have been physical compromised or diminished and yet have remained a powerful witness.  

But Paul’s eyes are not just on faithful service here and now.  He writes;

‘For we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.’  (2 Corinthians 4: 18)

He see the human body as a tent which is subject to destruction but ‘we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.’  (2 Corinthians 5: 1)  It is not easy inhabiting the ‘tent’.   Says Paul: ‘we groan and are burdened’ but we have this hope that ‘what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.’  (2 Corinthians 5: 4).  Our mortal bodies are destined to be renewed according to the guarantee we receive in the resurrected body of Jesus.  

A friend of mine with history of health problems phoned one Saturday morning.  I was working on a sermon which was majoring on the resurrection of the body.  ‘Any thoughts on the resurrection of the body?’ I asked.   He replied: ‘Only that I am longing for it.’  Paul would sympathise but in the meantime his attitude was that as long as he was the ‘earthly tent’ he would make it his goal to serve to his utmost in anticipation of the ‘eternal house in heaven.’  At our best or worst we continue to serve while holding in our hearts the fulfilment of all His promises to us.  

Still Quarrying: Open Book.

 ‘How terribly strange to be seventy,’ sang Paul Simon.  I’ve got a couple of years to go yet but I am approaching retirement and finding is ‘terribly strange.’  I’ll probably write more about this in the coming months.  While being minister of the linked charge of Baldernock and St Paul’s in recent years, I have been minister of St Paul’s and part of the community of Milngavie for 34 years.   It will undoubtedly be a huge challenge to leave, settle in another community and become a member of another congregation.

One question on many lips has been: ‘What are you going to do with all your books?’  That has not been fully worked out at the time of writing, but it is undoubtedly a chore I cannot ignore for much longer.   The problem with folk like me is that quite a lot of our book accumulation over the years has been aspirational rather than realistic.  You buy a book in case it goes out of print.  You buy a book because it deals with something you feel you should know about.  You buy a book knowing you won’t crack it open in the short-term but one of those days . . .  If you are not guilty of any of this at least you can be sympathetic.  

 

The result is there is a substantial amount of stuff that never gets read and possibly never will be.   Just last week, however, I came across Henri Nouwen’s The Return Of The Prodigal Son.  It was published in 1992 and more than likely I bought it close to that date.  Nouwen was appreciated by many Christians as a devotional writer, and this is an extended meditation on a painting by Rembrandt which had a profound effect upon him.   It depicts the reconciliation of the lost son with the forgiving father in Luke 15: 11-13.

 

For some reason I never got round to reading it although it is regarded as one of Nouwen’s best.  I’m happy to say, however, that that is currently being rectified and is proving to be a great blessing.  You know a book is making an impact when you feel you are keeping company with the author, hearing a voice beneath the text.   It may have lain for thirty years unread, but it is now living in the moment.  Maybe it was for such a time as this that it was bought.

The books of the Bible are much older, and some are better known to us than others.  Perhaps some have in a sense been sealed to us.  But we should never lose the faith that the Holy Spirit is the inspirer of the Scriptures and is seeking to reveal God and His love for each one of us.   To open a book of the Bible is to seek the company of God, to know Him and to know His ways.  To open a book of the Bible is to experience the love that Jesus spoke of in the story of the forgiving father.  Love which inspired a seventeenth century artist, a twentieth century writer, and a twenty-first century Presbyterian minister approaching retirement.   That’s how it works.  We don’t call it the living Word for nothing.  Maybe unread but always waiting the moment of revelation.  

Still Quarrying: Incurable.

I recently heard of an eminent cancer specialist who did not like to use the word ‘terminal’ in relation to a patient’s condition.  He preferred to say she might not survive.  It’s a lesson in the power of words and how they impact on people lives.  Some have resonances which can have a negative psychological effect.  That was something the specialist wanted to avoid.  An important factor in how a cancer sufferer copes is positivity.  Some words carry a weight that can be oppressive and undermine hope.  

So what about this word ‘incurable’?   It’s actually not as bad as it sounds.  People can live with incurable conditions to a great age.  It’s when you couple ‘incurable’ with cancer that it opens up a less than promising prospect.   Multiple myeloma is at present an incurable cancer which means that every day that remains to me I will be carrying this disease.   Even if this regimen of treatment I am presently following is deemed successful I will probably need to continue with some form of treatment that will keep the cancer at bay.  

It must be said that many people who are in this position can live a good quality of life.  I have previously blogged about Todd Billings book Rejoicing In Lament: living with incurable cancer.   He is  a multiple myeloma sufferer who despite challenges and set-backs continues to write and teach in a Seminary in the USA.  I know others closer to home who continue to work and maintain a positive attitude to the future.    It is something you can live with.  And, who knows, there may be a cure some day.  It was in 2009 that an abnormality was discovered in my blood and since then there have been great advances in the treatment of multiple myeloma.   But, still, for the moment it remains ‘incurable’.  

In a sense we all live with an incurable condition.  Our spiritual DNA holds a powerful tendency to live against God and His ways.  The Psalmist lays out the reality of this in a way that many might feel shocking: 

‘Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.’  (Psalm 51: 5)

Paul knew the truth of this as he reflects on the civil war going on inside himself.  He writes of being conflicted in desiring to do good but in reality continuing to do what he knows is evil.  His tendency to go against God takes over and there is nothing he can do about it on his own.   He is a man who needs a Saviour who can forgive, renew and establish him more fully in the ways of God.  We feel his joy when he praises God that all of this is possible in his relationship with Jesus Christ.  (Romans 7: 14-25)

I have heard people say that living with the need of a Saviour is psychologically debilitating.  We should not be looking beyond ourselves for help but looking within ourselves for the resources to overcome our challenges.  That is the way to personal growth.   It’s an appealing argument but we also need to listen to those who found a way out of self-destructive patterns of behaviour - some of them who would not profess faith in God - and were able to do so because help was at hand.  What friends, family, and therapists were able to do was a gift that far from diminishing their lives enhanced it.   They live with the realisation that they were valued in the eyes of others and were counted worthy of what it was possible for them to give.  Daren McGarvey, author of Poverty Safari,  writes this of his emergence from a life of addiction: ‘I couldn’t have done it without help.’   He lives with the realisation that the gifts of friends and counsellors, and the resources of various institutions brought him through to a healthier lifestyle.  

Take this to the deeper level where Paul struggled.  We all have this incurable condition which is sin, the tendency to shut out God and live apart from His ways.  There is no way out of this apart from the intervention of Jesus.  His death has paid the price for our sin,  and has opened up the way for forgiveness and renewal to take place.  We still feel the power of our broken human nature, overwhelming our thoughts and our actions.  But though we fall He raises us up to begin again.  

When the breakthrough comes and we realise the need a Saviour, this is surely life-enhancing not life-diminishing.  We have been embraced in the love of God reaching out to the incurable to show that the ‘disease’ does not have the final word.  In Christ it can never be said we are terminal.  

Still Quarrying: The Sharp End.

We have seen another side to television journalists since the beginning of the Ukraine war.  Normally in well-appointed studios and stylishly dressed we have seen them trail through rubble often in military style kit.  In the past there have been journalists wounded or killed as they have tried in the midst of conflict to keep us informed and perhaps to bring greater understanding.

I was concerned, though, when I saw that Fergal Keane was in Ukraine in the beginning of the troubles.  The last I had heard he had taken time off as he struggled to cope with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the result of his exposure to war in various parts of the world.   His book All Of These People tells of the horrific conditions he experienced in Rwanda which have played on his mind as powerful flash-backs.  So what was he doing in Ukraine?  

Fergal Keane: Living with PTSD, a documentary screened last night (9 May 2022) on BBC 2 gave us some insight.  He described his ‘addiction’ to the tragic areas of the world, his compulsion to be there, and the irresistible impulse to make them known to the rest of the world.  It’s not an enticing prospect for those of us who appreciate their comfort zone thank you very much and are happiest making pronouncements from the comfort of our armchairs.  But Fergal was brave enough to open himself up and show us some of the darkness within.  

Sadly it is this darkness that led to an alcohol problem which seems now to behind him.  But the flash-backs remain which can come in disturbing dreams or even in the course of every-day tasks.  Most of us know the effect of past events weighing heavily on our inner being but PTSD is serious mental disturbance which can often have physical consequences.  

The documentary ended on a note of hope.  Fergal quotes a Van Morrison song: ‘Baby, ain't it all worthwhile when the healing has begun?’   A voice off camera asks: ‘Do you believe the healing has begun?’   With a genuine smile Fergal says ‘Yes.’   Specialised counselling has helped but more than anything else has been the encouragement received  from contact with other PTSD sufferers.  His final words are to others like him who need to know that there are others out there who understand and keeping company with them healing can begin.  

Faith is never mentioned.  I’m not sure where Fergal stands in relation to Christianity these days.  But I would be interested to know how he responds to a Suffering Saviour, particularly with regard to the inner turmoil that Jesus experienced.   This was stirred by the sight of the suffering around Him.  He had an extreme reaction as He stood at the tomb of Lazarus.  In Gethsemene His whole inner life threatened to come apart completely.   The Cross brought not only physical torture but spiritual dereliction.   

Jesus knew traumatic stress and with the Ascension we are soon to observe in the Christian Year we can say that this is now part of the Godhead.  Jesus has taken this into the very being of God.  This assures us of God’s presence in the worst of inner turmoil and assures us of a way through.  This may not be fully realised in the brokenness of this world but having a Divine Companion who empathises has made a difference to many bruised and battered souls.  And this is leading to the transformed existence that is promised in Christ.  The traumatised Jesus of Good Friday was presented to the world on Easter morning renewed and resurrected as God’s will for the whole humankind.   

The night before he was crucified Jesus shared this promise with His friends:

‘And if I go to prepare a place for you I will come back and take you to be with me so that you also may be where I am.’  (John 14: 3)

This is when the healing begun on the Cross will be complete in resurrection power.