It will take place on the 23rd of February 2012 at 7.00pm in Kirriemuir St Andrew’s Church.

Presbytery will gather at 6.45 for those who wish to join them.

Location and directions available on the church website.

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But there can be few ‘firsts’ quite so special as being invited to officiate at the wedding of a family member. One of the slight added pressures of getting into a charge was the request to conduct the wedding of my brother-in-law and his fiancée. However, the charge has arrived in good time and so I will be able to do the honours in due course.

So, last night was an opportunity to sit down with them and go through the order of service. Of course, never having done one of my own before, it was an interesting experience working out what was to be included in the liturgy, and why (and where). I know the CofS doesn’t hold to a sacramental view of marriage, and I’m happy with that, but I’ve recently been wondering about how we lift a marriage service beyond the ‘legalities with frills’.

I was slightly surprised to discover that the couple wanted something solidly Christian and with ‘gravitas’ (not the word used, but fitting). I was also keen to create the liturgy in such a way that the ‘congregation’ were more involved, or ‘invested’ in what was happening.

I think what we’ve come up with works really well. I suppose it’s loosely based on the 2nd order in Common Order, but definitely only loosely and with other bits thrown in. Broadly speaking, after the first hymn, and a short preamble, we’re into a reading (1Co 13:1-8, nothing original, but by request). This is followed by a short reflection setting the context of Christian marriage in the bigger picture of God’s love and restored relationships (a bit of a hobby-horse theme of mine at the moment) – relationships we are all part of. This then leads to the unifying recital of the Apostles’ Creed. On this basis of God-reflecting, loving relationship, we move into the marriage ceremony itself, finishing that part with a sung Aaronic blessing. There’s then a specially written choral piece during which we may or may not go and sign the schedule, then it’s a prayer, Lord’s prayer, 2nd hymn and benediction.

I like the ‘shape’ – the way it establishes a Christian foundation that is inclusive. I like the way it encourages participation – this is not ‘just’ about two people, but of a much bigger set of relationships. I also like the way that it manages to combine a ‘high’ approach with inclusivity (well, I think it does).

Downside is that it is quite lengthy, but the view of the bride is that it is this part that is the focal point of the day and if that means shaving 10 minutes off the drinks reception immediately afterwards, then so be it.

I doubt that this will become my standard liturgy, but having had this first go at one, and ensuring that it is ‘special’ for people I particularly care about, it has been a very helpful ‘first’. I think it’s really only when you do your first liturgy for anything that you really question why something is there, and why you are using particular words, and why it flows the way it does.

Like I say, it’s the first of what, I’m sure, will be many firsts. Not all will be so pleasurable, but all will be a challenge to ensure God is properly ‘included’ and given His proper place.

Oh, I didn’t mention that the wedding is on the Saturday of the Easter Weekend. Hopefully that will be a first, and last.

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Sunday was the ‘big day’, preaching as sole nominee at Kirriemuir: St. Andrew’s l/w Oathlaw Tannadice (must program a shorcut key to type that lot) [oh, and I'd link to the website but it seems to have exceeded some quota or other and isn't working - an opportunity to move it to some more reliable, free hosting {me, in other words} I think]. Did it all go smoothly? No! I had a few glitches, of my own making. Managed to skip a hymn, but that helped claw back some time since I’d gone on a bit long, and so we finished on time after all. Struggled a bit to connect with the kids on the second service. Forgot to take water to the pulpit so had a bit of a dry throat at one point. And various other little hiccups that probably weren’t really noticed, or if they were, people were too polite to say so.

But, in the end, none of that mattered. The votes were counted and a unanimous decision was returned. We heard the enthusiastic applause as the result was announced and received the same when we went out to say hello officially. I can say that I was utterly overwhelmed. The warmth of the welcome and the enthusiasm was obvious and I still couldn’t quite believe that they had accepted me.

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur. We had lunch with some folks from the churches and had a good look round the manse. I think my brain had shut down by that point and I was running on autopilot. By the time we got home I was absolutely shattered and felt totally drained.

It’s really only today that it has started to sink in that it’s time for a change. As messages and calls of congratulation hit the pone, txt, email and Facebook, the sense of joy and excitement gradually started to make its way into my own head and I’ve been going around in a mild state of euphoria for most of the day. There’s still a slight sense of unreality about it all. The whole process must be the most bizarre way of getting a job anywhere. There’s always one more ‘thing’ to happen it seems. For me now that is settling on a date for ordination and induction. That’s likely to be the 23rd of February, but the date’s not fixed yet. That’s far enough away to give me time to prepare, but scarily close to realise that real life, and real ministry, kicks in very soon. That’s the trepidation part.

But, for now, I can enjoy the setting aside of confusion and think about what an exciting next phase of life and ministry is about to begin.

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There’s the natural anxiety of preparing for such an event (and all my classic stress triggers and reactions are there); yet the rational part of me is saying that I’m not doing anything different to what I would do any other Sunday morning I’d be leading a service. And of course that’s true – it’s just that’s there’s the added pressure of knowing that two congregations will be deciding if I am to be their minister for the next while. (And that in itself is a somewhat bizarre situation – voting based on an hour leading a service to determine who will be involved in their life for far more than that.) But leading services is what I have done, in large part, for quite some time and I know that I am perfectly capable of doing so competently. And so there is a mix of anxiety and confidence and that it exactly what I would expect, so, in a sense, it’s what I would expect to be thinking and is not, therefore, a problem.

So where does the problem lie?

Everyone has been enormously supportive and I have had all the usual ‘it’ll all be fine’ comments from lots of people. And there’s a big bit of me that says/knows that, yes, it will all be fine. And that’s the root of the problem, I think. I don’t want it to feel that it’s a foregone conclusion. There’s a bit of me that feels that that is almost arrogant (but not really), yet it’s born of a confidence, not only in my competence, but the unanimous decision of a nominating committee, the good references from previous supervisors, and even the words of encouragement from people associated with the vacancy itself.

Oh yes, there’s also the big issue of ‘call’. After all, that’s the very root of my being here in the first place. And even that all feels ‘right’, for reasons I’ve explored in other posts and for all sorts of other reasons I haven’t mentioned but all affirm this call, and this place, and this ministry.

When all these things are brought together it’s difficult not to feel confident and positive about the whole thing. But I don’t, as I’ve said, want that to tip over into arrogance. And I don’t think it will. There’s still enough humility there to hold me back (I think, and even though it doesn’t necessarily sound like there is) and there’s also a sense in which this confidence has its proper ‘place’.

I was praying about this very issue and about my conflicted emotions and as I did so, I sensed an overwhelming affirmation of being in this ‘place’, emotionally. It’s difficult to explain – it was, itself, a rush of ‘emotion’ that was both uplifting and humbling; a sense that it was understood, and accepted, and ‘allowed’, and was, therefore, ‘right’.

So I will, no doubt, continue to walk my tight line of confidence and humility. And I will continue to feel conflicted about it. But I can stop over-analysing it. It’s not something to be picked apart and have a decision made one way or another. It is simply how I am and who I am. It’s also good to know that who I am and how I am right now is quite fine with God, who calls me. Now that does sound arrogant, but I can’t help myself.

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Oh, and the header images (for the moment) are from the trip to Israel in 2011.

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I’ve also been a bit reluctant to blog about the most recent developments in my application process. The last time I blogged it was to note that things were progressing. Well, they have now progressed to the point where I shall be preaching as sole nominee on the 15th of January at Kirriemuir: St. Andrew’s linked with Oathlaw Tannadice. The main reason I’ve been reluctant to blog about it is that I don’t really want to settle into a sense of complacency about it, or to give any sense of it being a foregone conclusion. It felt that writing about it would be, in a bizarre sense, a betrayal of trust. However, it’s now public knowledge that I will be preaching as sole nominee and so, admitting it here isn’t a big deal. That said, I still don’t want to feel complacent about it, despite the reassuring noises from all and sundry.

As that date races into view though, and as phone calls and emails start coming in to make tentative arrangements for an ordination and induction, the reality of major upheaval in the near future is beginning to dawn on me. There’s the logistics of moving – but having to keep the current house going so that school can be finished. There’s also the daunting prospect of settling into a first charge – getting to know people, avoiding upsetting familiar routines (initially anyway), planning, doing, rushing around mad wondering why on earth I ever thought this was a good idea.

There’s a bit of me that wants to hold back and hide behind the idea that ‘it’s not settled yet!’ After all, I still have to be voted for by the two congregations. and yet, when I get a church calendar in the post, with the encouraging message that it’s for my new study, then it all seems a little less daunting (if still somewhat presumptuous) and I can let a bit of the excitement sneak through. And I am excited. I’ve met some of the people and, I think, made a good connection – one which I’m keen to develop. The area is beautiful. The churches are keen to develop. There’s some great work being done as part of a wider area ministry. School chaplaincy work. And the list goes on. All exciting and appealing.

In may ways it’s not what I had initially been looking for, but any so many more ways, it’s more than I’d considered. And perhaps the biggest clincher is that it has been received very positively by everyone in the family. That’s always been a big part in my discernment of the ‘you’ll just know’ advice that has come from many quarters. And that’s exciting too, because it is vindication of lots of advice and direction and prayerful consideration.

So, a new year; soon a new start. But, first things first – I still need to decide what to preach on on the 15th.

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The interview that I had, I thought went well, but, as is my custom, I probably over-analysed the event. I could have been better in some areas, but overall I was happy with how it went. I felt I represented myself fully and honestly and that, as far as I’m concerned, is the crux of the matter. I don’t want to be accepted for a charge and I’m not what they expect. I don’t want to give the impression that I’m passionate about something I’m not, or have skills that I don’t. By the same token, I don’t want to miss anything that might be of use in a committee’s deliberations of whether I’m the right person or not. There were one or two answers that I could have dealt with more ‘slickly’, but they caught me slightly by surprise (and they probably shouldn’t have).

I also fired a number of questions at the committee and suspect I poked a few ‘sensitive’ areas judging by the reactions. When I asked that ‘catch-all’ awkward question, “What question are you hoping I don’t ask?” there was a muttered, “You’ve already asked them.” That said, the answers (or lack off) weren’t a problem, but simply highlighted areas where work would be needed.

The upshot though was that they did eventually get back to me with a ‘thanks, but no thanks’.

Which left me with one remaining ‘live’ application. That committee got back in touch to arrange to hear me take a service and that was duly arranged (and has now taken place). In fact, it was the day after the above-noted interview, so it was a fairly intense weekend. The visiting group stayed for a chat and although it wasn’t an official interview, these things are never really as ‘informal’ as they might be. But it was a good opportunity to sound each other out and form some tentative first impressions. On my side, I noted some potential ‘issues’, but nothing off-putting. I’ve also been able to have a chat with another minister in the area and that resulted in some good food for thought and some encouraging prospects.

I guess I didn’t make too bad an impression either as I have now been invited for an interview, which, as the post title suggests, is one step beyond where I have been getting to in previous applications. My interview experience with the other committee should now stand me in good stead, which is why I don’t view that experience as a negative one. Mind you, it’s unlikely they’ll ask the same questions, but the bulk of them should come up in some form or another. So, watch this space for an update in due course.

Realising that this is the last of my live applications, I have also decided that there is no harm in doing a bit of contingency planning either. If the interview goes well, and I progress with that charge, then I can always withdraw any other applications. But the thought of waiting to get the outcome before starting from scratch again would, I think, be foolish. That said, at this point of the year now, very little is likely to happen with new applications until into January. Hopefully by that time, I should have a clearer indication of how things are going. Anyway, one other application has been sent off and I’ll likely follow up with one or two more in the near future.

Oh, yes, and I’ve also signed on the ‘buroo‘. It’s unlikely that I’ll get any benefit money as I have gaps in my NI contributions from being a student, but we’ll see. First time I’ve ever signed on, but I’ve certainly carried my tax burden in years past, so I don’t exactly feel like a sponger.

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I suppose it has its roots in my main concern of evangelicalism. For a very long time I’ve been unhappy about, what seems to me, too heavy a focus on ‘me’. Evangelicalism seems (and I accept that this is somewhat of a caricature) wholly concerned with ‘personal salvation’, ‘Jesus as my personal saviour’, ‘Do I know Jesus?’, ‘a personal relationship with Jesus’ and all sorts of trite phrases that focus on ‘me’, not Jesus. The emphasis for evangelism is to get a person to make that ‘personal decision’ to follow Jesus. If they do that, then they will be saved (whatever that means). I’ve never seen scripture as being that self-focused and I can’t help but think that such an emphasis becomes too self-centred and self-serving. Scripture seems to me to have a much more corporate focus – but more of that later. Anyway, I got over that bias a good while back and have since adopted a much more ‘Kingdom’-focused theology that is less about ‘me’ and much more about community and relationships within that community.

It wasn’t a perfectly settled position though and was sufficiently rough round the edges to merit more thought and, to a degree, that’s where I am now. But, now to introduce one of the threads that’s been dangling. I’ve been reading some books by an American professor, Scot McKnight. He lectures at North Park University. Among his many books, there is what might be described as a very loose trilogy, building on an earlier work called The Jesus Creed. The Blue Parakeet, One.life, and The King Jesus Gospel all build on his project work started in The Jesus Creed. The can be broadly characterised by the phrase, “your [...] is too limited.” In the first, it is our understanding of scripture. In the second it is our understanding of discipleship. In the third it is our understanding of salvation (gospel). Interestingly, they are all written from a very evangelical perspective, but one which seeks to get past the ‘personal’. They’re also written into a very US-centric context, so the issues they address are perhaps less common here in the UK, but nevertheless, in engaging with a creeping narrow fundamentalism, they still have some relevancy.

The books generally chime well with my overall theology – less focus on the personal, and more on the communal. They’re about what the work of the Kingdom is and our place in that. McKnight is less bothered about whether we end up in heaven of hell (for that’s not the trajectory of scripture anyway) but about whether we have a place in the Kingdom or not. And that is characterised by our works – not for salvation, but as an imperative of our faith. And the focus of those works is what Jesus (and the rest of scripture, for that matter) is concerned with – the outcast and stranger, injustice, the downtrodden and excluded, and so on. We may think we’ve ticked the box of ‘personal salvation’, but if we think we have, and do not participate in Kingdom work, then we’ve probably completely misunderstood ‘salvation’ anyway.

I still question elements of McKnight’s writing, but, on the whole, he has ‘redeemed’ evangelicalism, in a sense. He has turned the proclamation of the Good News towards its proper focus and lifted it away from the self-centred ‘soterian gospel’, as he terms it.

OK, so that’s one strand of thought that’s floating around my head. Another comes form last Sunday’s lectionary readings (and subsequent sermon). If you don’t follow the lectionary, or have forgotten already, the gospel reading was from Matthew 25:31-46 – the bit about the sheep and the goats, and doing things for ‘the least of these’. It’s a familiar text, much beloved of those who like their judgement and eternal punishment. But as I read it, and read some commentaries, I began to wonder whether the classic conservative evangelical reading of the passage was entirely merited and whether, indeed, it did not actually challenge much of that Calvinist teaching. But here’s where we hit a rough edge that needs engaged with and I’d appreciate any thoughts on the matter.

This passage makes two distinctions. One is obvious – the sheep and the goats. The other, less so – the Nations and ‘the least of these’. Setting aside the sheep and goats distinction, it’s the other that I find much more interesting and challenging. It seems to me that the ‘flock’ (of sheep and goats) gathered before the King/Judge is the Nations. It also seems to me that a Jewish reading of this would be that this is anyone not Jewish. By extension we could perhaps stretch that then to being anyone who is not Christian. And so what we have in this scene are non-Christians being judged, and rewarded with eternal life, for their works. But it’s more subtle than that. The ‘works’ are actually the deeds and reactions to the needs of ‘the least of these’ – arguably, the Christian community, who are identified as Jesus himself. So, by inference, the reaction to Christians is a tacit acceptance or rejection of Jesus. But note that there is no mention of becoming ‘Christian’ – only how Christians are dealt with. That, to me, raises all sorts of big questions over issues of ‘salvation’ – about who’s in and who’s out. And it turns the focus once again towards the Kingdom and its works and purpose.

So that’s floating around in my head as well along with yet another strand of thought that draws from two sources. The first is slightly more nebulous and involves Advent thoughts and the ‘waiting’ of the Jewish community for God’s direct engagement in the world, bringing freedom from oppression. The second is is related, in a sense. I’ve started reading Tom Wright’s Simply Jesus. If you haven’t read anything of Wright’s, I would highly recommend him as one of today’s most intelligent and accessible theologians. Anyway, I’m not too far into the book, but what struck me was his scene-setting for Jesus’ incarnation (which is what Advent is about, really).

It is patently obvious, or so it seems to me now, that whenever we speak of the scriptural understanding of salvation, or deliverance, or redemption, we can only do so at a ‘communal’ level. The Jewish expectation was that it was the Jews, as a people, as a nation, which would be saved. Personal salvation doesn’t seem to be a factor. And so, again by extension, why do we think that we can turn the very Jewish Jesus, and his very Jewish teachings, into a personal goal? Is this the arrogance of Western Christianity at play? Furthermore, what Jesus achieved through his life, death and resurrection, was not salvation for individuals, or even just for the Jews, but something which extended to the entirety of creation. Christ died for all! in a very communal sense.

So,where these strands of thought have taken me is to a place which feels more ‘coherent’ and has greater integrity, but needs more refinement. The ‘corporate’ or ‘communal’ nature of salvation overcomes the issue of a me-centred gospel. But it also ensures that what I am called into is not only a ‘personal’ relationship with Christ, but into a whole set of redeemed and restored relationships – self, God, community, creation. We cannot stop at the ‘I’m alright, I’m saved’ proclamation, because that only reflects one aspect of those restored relationships. It is our coming into the work and purpose of the Kingdom (that is here now, in imperfect form; a pale reflection of the future Kingdom in all its glory) that shows the restoration of those other relationships.

It also means that I can stop focusing on the question of whether ‘I’ am ‘saved’ – the issue of assurance. I am already ‘saved’ – that ‘corporately-inclusive’ act of Jesus assures me of that. Am I a Christian? (the least of these) is evidenced by my works – also to ‘the least of these’ (this time a more broadly-inclusive definition, for what the Mt25 passage also shows is that we are all, Nation and ‘the least’, under God’s care).

Where does this line of thought push us? It certainly raises issues of universalism. It also raises questions around what defines whether we are ‘in’ or ‘out’ – and it becomes less about ‘me’ and more about who I identify with.

Does this detract from grace and move more towards works? Or does it even place too much emphasis on what I do and decide? I don’t think so (but I’m willing to be corrected) because I think, if anything, it makes God ‘bigger’ than we would often perceive or show Him (that idea of our [...] being too limited). It shows that God’s grace is all-encompassing. It also doesn’t mean that God accepts anything based on a corporate-inclusivity. The idea of faith and works becomes inseparable, both at a personal and communal level – just as the Old Testament witnesses to in its chronicling of the history of the Jews. It doesn’t suggest that works alone will save us, but it does raise awkward questions over what might be termed ‘anonymous Christianity’.

Like I said, this is a brain-dump, just to get some thoughts teased out and work out where they might go. Any comment and critique is welcome.

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Having preached last year, it meant that it was my turn to take the Act of Remembrance this time – only this time with the full attendance of Legion, Forces and various local dignitaries. There are times when it has to be ‘right’ and I would suggest that this is just such a time. I know there are all the arguments about whether the church should be supporting such militaristic activities, but I would rather there be a Christian voice heard in these situations than a withdrawal and sniping from the sidelines. Hosting and participating in such activities does not imply that we condone war, but recognises that there is a distinct Christian voice which can be spoken into the occasion.

Not that that was the sum total of my involvement for the day. It fell upon me to lead the service at the war memorial too. Bigger crowd, very public and with all the burden of responsibility and solemnity of such an event. It generally went well, I think, with only a couple of minor hiccups as I tried to speak over the top of a parade-ground voice giving orders at times I didn’t expect them. (Oh, and a little argument with the local MP as he turned up early, complained about the service not starting early enough to give him time to get to the next one, laid his wreath before the service started, and legged it. Anyway, I was feeling bold enough to be in no mood for such drivel and told him to sort his diary more efficiently next time.)

Anyway, I thought I’d share the short reflection I gave at the war memorial. Spoken pretty much as written, with the odd, on-the-fly alteration (which I no longer remember exactly).

As the years pass and the memories of the two world wars become barely even a second-hand memory, it is often asked whether it is still appropriate to mark this day and time, at least in the way we do.

Quite apart from the fact that the legacy of those two wars still continues with us, the list of conflicts in which the British Armed Forces has been involved grows ever longer; and conflicts around the globe continue to exact a toll, both on those who are on active service and those who support them.

And so I would say that the Act of Remembrance has, if anything, become even more significant; even more crucial in our present day.

Remembering and honouring those who have died, those who have suffered, both military and civilian lives; remembering courage, and bravery, selfless sacrifice and duty are all part of this Act of Remembrance, and rightly so.

But such an Act is also an intensely political statement – and I use that term in its broadest sense: the exercise of power and governance in a country. And as a democracy, we all play our part in that process. We, all, help shape the country we would live in, and the ethics we would live under.

And so, when we join together in the Act of Remembrance, we are not simply paying tribute to those who have served in conflicts over the years. We are also saying that such events cannot be set aside; their significance cannot be diminished; they do not simply belong to the past, but are a challenge to our present reality.

When we forget, we trivialise.

When we forget, we diminish and devalue sacrifice.

When we forget, we dishonour those who served and who continue to serve.

In remembering, we do not condone war, but speak a word of challenge to governments, and to the people, that says, “We have seen, and we remember, what humanity is capable of.”

In remembering, we also say we demand a change, saying, “As it was, is not how it needs to be. Let that which has happened in the past guide us to a better future.”

“We will remember.”

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‘They shall grow not old,
as we that are left grow old;

Age shall not weary them,
nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun
and in the morning,
we will remember them.’

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