Virtual Methodist

Just back from a really stimulating day with other chaplains at the Clinical Pastoral Education Retreat to Dromantine. It fell to our group to lead worship at the beginning and for it I wrote the following responsive prayer based on the first part of Isaiah 61 (I came home to discover that Stocki had referred to the latter part of the same chapter in his Surmise today promoting the upcoming Four Corners Festival - it is a truly inspiring chapter of scripture... perhaps that is why Jesus chose to read it to his home Synagogue in Nazareth.) I may have written it for a group of chaplains, but, if the Pope is correct in defining the contemporary church as a "field hospital" for those wounded in the world (a concept which we explored today) then it is an appropriate prayer for all those who are part of the church... Sovereign  L ord  pour your Spirit upon us, Anoint us to bring good news to the poor and the powerless Wherever we may encounter them on our journeys: Sen...

I've been using this book for a few months now as a devotional prior to going onto the wards of the Ulster Hospital as chaplain, ever since a number of them appeared there as a resource to share with those  wrestling with cancer. Its authors have experienced cancer themselves directly and within their families, and have a long pedigree of working within the sphere of prayer for healing, and this book finds its origin in a frustration that there was little written from an explicitly Christian perspective as they faced cancer. The title, tone and even the physical form of the book marks it out as being aimed primarily at women, but there is plenty in here that is useful for anyone going through the whole testing-diagnosis-treatment continuum of care, and those accompanying them on that journey, be it as chaplain, pastor, family member or friend. That is especially true of some of the prayers at the end of the book. The folksy "thought for the day" style will not appeal to...

Just a quick post to flag up something that you have probably picked up from elsewhere. Recently there has been much conversation about a marked lack of hope in political and civic discourse in Northern Ireland recently, with positions becoming entrenched in anticipation of the upcoming arrival of Richard Haass. But slowly, largely facilitated by social media and a few conversations over coffee, a momentum has been developing to articulate a more positive vision of how things might be. I am aware of a number of initiatives coming to a head, and will plug them here were I feel they have something to offer... I will also return in detail to the issue of hope when I get a chance to pull my thoughts together. However, over the past week I have been part of a group who have tried to articulate some thoughts on the themes of hope and healing from a Biblical perspective as Richard Haass begins his work. As we said in a brief introductory statement that went out via facebook and email today...

Haven't posted one of these for a while, but here's the responsive call to worship we are using in tonight's service of communion and prayer for healing: Praise the Lord . How good it is to sing praises to our God, how pleasant and fitting to praise him! The Lord builds up Jerusalem ; he gathers the exiles of Israel . He heals the broken-hearted He binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars in the heavens: he calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit. The Lord sustains the humble And casts the wicked to the ground. Sing to the Lord with thanksgiving; make music to our God. Praise the Lord . from Psalms 147:1-7 Selah

In his reflection on Psalm 102 in his book "Songs of Experience", Roy Clements refers to the 16 th century playwright  Thomas Nashe’s poem written during an outbreak of the plague. He only cites a few verses, but for full effect let me quote the whole thing: Adieu, farewell, earth’s bliss; This world uncertain is; Fond are life’s lustful joys; Death proves them all but toys; None from his darts can fly; I am sick, I must die.    Lord, have mercy on us! Rich men, trust not in wealth, Gold cannot buy you health; Physic himself must fade. All things to end are made, The plague full swift goes by; I am sick, I must die.    Lord, have mercy on us! Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen’s eye. I am sick, I must die.    Lord, have mercy on us! Strength stoops unto the grave, Worms feed on...

This, as well as being, in some ways, an update on my post for Friday last, was also, originally intended to be the basis of my Thought for the Day tomorrow morning... but it is of such epic length (reading a little like a "Book of Job Lite") I couldn't see any way of reducing it to the requisite 2 minutes and 30 seconds... So thought I'd post it here anyway as a form of catharsis... Is being accident-prone hereditary? The experiences of my eldest son and I might suggest that it is… Especially this year… Since January we’ve had a number of sport-related injuries (nothing new to us, they've just happened slightly more frequently than usual)… First I cracked a rib at football, then a rugby scrum collapsed on him injuring his neck and shoulders… in March I was only back at football 2 weeks when someone kicked my in the back of the calf rupturing the muscle…  But the real fun and games began four weeks ago… I’d said on Thought for the Day that morning that I had dr...

I've written a couple of pieces on chaplaincy recently ( here and here ) and so it was interesting to have this piece on hospice chaplaincy brought to my attention by a former intern. Meanwhile, reflections on Fabrice Muamba and his ongoing recovery have continued in various corners of the interweb, but the most interesting for me was Kevin Hargaden's comments on the ill-conceived  challenge of a group of cross-party MPs to ASA ban on advertising faith-healing . Their particular crusade (and I use that word advisedly) is part of the developing war between conservative Christians and militant secularists... Hardly a day goes by without coming across a link concerning the "persecution" of Christians in secularist Britain, usually via the Daily Mail or the Christian Institute/Voice and featuring some quote or other by George Carey, or, on the other hand, some campaign by Dicky Dawkins and his merry band of fundamentalist atheists. Indeed I could include many of...

Aberarder, Aberayron, Llangranog, Llangurig, Abergorlech, Abergynolwyn, Llandefeilog, Llanerchymedd, Aberhosan, Aberporth... With this tongue-twisting recitation, or incantation, of Welsh place names, the fantastic Francis Hardy, Faith Healer, begins a harrowing theatrical journey through his story... An exploration of fact, fiction and truth, faith, hope and despair, surrounding Hardy and his unpredictable gift (or was it a curse?); exercising (or exorcising) it in a "ministry without responsibility." For those who don't know the play, the story is told in a series of 4 monologues by Francis, his "partner" Grace and "manager" Teddy... I won't spoil the story except to say it isn't exactly a comedy... although it's not without it's moments of humour. 23 years ago I had the privilege of playing Frank in an Edinburgh Fringe production, with the woman who went on to be my wife as the director... But it was intere...

I was a snattery child... One of those children who had a constantly runny nose. From September through to May I had cold, and from May to September I had hay fever. As a result, whatever I was wearing I had tissues secreted all over my body... In my pockets, up my sleeve, and on one occasion I even remember my Mum tucking a tissue into my sock. I think she had shares in Kleenex. I was also one of those children who never blew their noses quietly. I still don't. When I blow my nose today, fishermen in nearby ports turn around and scan the horizon for the fog bank they presume must be rolling in. But every week we went to church as a child, my Mum would warn me that I was not, on any account, to blow my nose during the prayers or Bible readings. So for at least four years I never sang the first line of any hymn. All through the prayers and readings my nose ran like a river, and as soon as the organ started up I would let rip. It was like having a tuneless trumpet fanfare at the begi...

Pharisee: Although he insisted on associating with undesirables, we Pharisees didn’t wash our hands of him entirely… Various friends of mine invited him to their homes… But the rabble even followed their rabbi there… On one occasion a whore came into the banqueting room after the meal and knelt down at the bottom of his couch… She was bawling her eyes out… and with her kisses and her tears she washed his feet, before drying them with her hair and pouring perfume on them… It was disgusting… She was as good as offering herself to him as desert… Woman 1: It was all I could offer to him… I had used my body to bring relief to men in the past… Some of them were round that table. But then they had paid me… bought me… used and abused me… But he didn’t. He knew what I was… But he said “Her many sins have been forgiven – for she loved much.” Until that day I had never known the meaning of love… Pharisee: How he could let such a woman even touch him was disgusting… But such things happened all...