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.