Virtual Methodist

I often note 2 things when conducting funerals. First, that every person present will be mourning a slightly different person, because everyone relates to others in a unique way, and second, that as we get older the loss of one person will inevitably raise memories of other losses, so it is rarely one person we are mourning. The shocking news of the death of a good friend raised both issues with me. So this is dedicated to two friends that I, and others, will continue to miss while we walk this earth, and to others who are mourning them, many much more deeply than me, because they were closer to them both. Have you met? Maybe not, Because despite the fact that You shared so much in common, Interests, education, denomination, Me, Your orbits were asynchronous, If not eccentric, And you belonged to a broad kirk Within which, it might be said You marked the apse ends. But now that eternity Gives you time, freed from  the tyranny of hours and minutes, Part of an even broader, wider, Hi...

Based on an experience I had a few days ago when heading to the first of our Holy Week events, but I thought it was appropriate for Holy Saturday, and I  dedicate it to all those dealing with bereavement and loss, whether recent or from long ago. I saw you walking away From me today, As I have done quite often In recent weeks. I wanted to follow you, To catch you up With all that’s been happening Since you left us. I long for your perspective. To hear your voice, Its accent, wise words, laughter And silences. But you have stayed silent friend For far too long. You went on ahead of us, And I miss you. Selah

Seriously, don't get worried about me given the nature of this and my post last week, and recent retrospectives. I'm in a good place at present and able to reflect on such things with a bit of perspective. As I was saying at our Circuit bereavement service "Living with Loss" last Sunday night, we could do well reversing Joe Bayley's injunction to "remember in the dark what we learned in the light" and instead remember in the light what we learned in the dark.  This piece is written in that vein, prompted in part by that service but also having read the episode in Gladys  Ganiel's biography of my friend and inspiration Gerry Reynolds, where when visiting the site of Marconi's historic transatlantic radio transmission at Clifden, he thanks God for the loss of his father in childhood, and other losses, because they gave him a sense of a communion with those no longer with us. That resonated with something that Gerry's friend and my former...

Today's offering on God Morning Ulster's "Thought for the Day", my last for a wee while... Have you ever said “There aren’t enough hours in the day” or “there aren’t enough days in the week”? Well now there aren’t enough weeks in the year… Because at the moment we are apparently in the middle of, not only the well publicized Christian Aid Week and Community Relations Week , but also, Choose Charity Shops Week - a nationwide campaign to encourage people to donate goods to charity shops; Dying Matters Awareness Week , aimed at encouraging individuals and organisations to take simple steps that can make a big difference to people when they are dying or bereaved, and International Food Allergy Awareness Week , an initiative of the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis Alliance … a group name that was a significant challenge to say live on radio at 6.55am… All of these are important issues but it does speak to me of a world where, despite the proliferation of ways of commun...

Whilst preparing for the two funerals that I have to conduct today, I came across this piece by Bishop Charles Henry Brent , which apparently was sent to Fiona Castle by a well-wisher shortly after the death of her husband Roy. Bishop Brent is probably more famous for his more developed analogy of death being like a ship sailing over the horizon. Here he uses the same image but in the form of a prayer: We seem to give them back to Thee, 0 God, who gavest them to us. Yet as Thou didst not lose them in giving, so we do not lose them by their return. Not as the world giveth, givest Thou, 0 Lover of souls. What Thou givest, Thou takest not away, for what is Thine is ours also if we are Thine. And life is eternal and love is immortal, and death is only an horizon, and an horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight. Lift us up, strong Son of God, that we may see further; cleanse our eyes that we may see more clearly: draw us closer to Thyself that we may know ourselves to be nearer t...

OK... Warning. I'm about to rant again... This time it is due to a piece of junk mail that landed on my doorstep yesterday... The sheer amount of unsolicited mail that goes straight from letterbox to blue bin is usually enough to trigger a rant... But on this occasion it was because of a kind offer by Sarah Muggeridge to provide me with some assistance to deal with the implications of the government's " End of Life Care Strategy " published last summer. Now I don't know whether this offer is coming to me in my role as chaplain to the local hospital, where I am actually on the multi-disciplinary palliative care education sub-group (the title is longer than the meetings), but the fact that it was sent to the church's PO Box address, suggests that the name and address was gleaned by some web-crawling bot, that has cribbed my name and address from either the local or national church website. With that in mind... one general point... Any junk mail senders take note...

Recently I was at an event where the Rev Leslie Griffiths (or Lord Griffiths of Burry Port if I were to be official about it, and name-drop with an enormous "clang") told those present that he lived and worked surrounded by a significant graveyard around Wesley's Chapel in London. This, he affirmed, served to remind him not only of the past, but of the future... the future for all of us. His comment reminded me of the fact that in my first station, a rural one, I was the only minister in the local clergy fraternal who didn't have a graveyard around my church buildings, a fact for which I was perennially thankful, not because of any squeamishness but because my colleagues lives seemed to be dominated by the petty politics involved in administrating grave plots. Yesterday I was back in the same room as the discussion with Leslie Griffith, but this time the speaker was Duncan Morrow (many more postings will probably stem from what he said, here and elsewhere...). During...

I came across this poem in preparing for a recent service for families that have been recently bereaved in our area. It actually exists in a few forms, all attributed to the same author. I've posted the one I like best, with apologies if it was not as the author originally intended. God has not promised skies always blue, Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through; God has not promised sun without rain, Joy without sorrow, peace without pain. God has not promised we shall not know Toil and temptation, trouble and woe; He has not told us we shall not bear Many a burden, many a care. But God has promised strength for the day, Rest for the laborer, light for the way, Grace for the trials, help from above, Unfailing sympathy, undying love. Annie Johnson Flint