Virtual Methodist

A piece linked to the Old Testament lectionary reading for today, but written 22 years ago for an event at Methodist Conference and delivered at that point by my predecessor in my current role, Rev David Kerr. He had recently retired as Superintendent at the time, and as I deliver this today it will be doubly poignant. First with David's recent passing, and second because I do so a few days after I have delivered my last report to the Board of BCM as Superintendent. I genuinely thought that this post would be my last station, but it was not to be... I thought my travelling days were done… I’d had enough upheaval in my life… moving with my family from the centre of civilization to what I saw then as the sticks… Syria… Haran… But still it was a city… and I was a city boy… who grew into a city man… and was settling down to spend the rest of my days there… Surrounded by familiar faces… familiar places… familiar gods… Gods cast in gold and silver or carved from stone and wood, all aroun...

A monologue based on the experience of Sarah in the Old Testament, originally written by me for a service my wife was taking at a local congregation back in 2009. It came back to mind because she is against leading a service in a local congregation, preaching on the call of Abram, and because the person who originally delivered it died recently. So here it is again in slightly modified form. I suppose it is also appropriate given that today is International Women's Day. There was also a strand within it prompted by an earlier  reflect ion that we have a tendency to write off people once they come to a certain age or stage of illness. Indeed how often do we write ourselves off? Laughter and tears… Laughter and tears have marked my life, especially my later years… I could have cried when Abraham, or Abram as he was known as then, said that God had told him to leave his father’s house in Haran and set off for who knows where… We were both already well on in years… It ...

I thought my travelling days were done… I’d had enough upheaval in my life… moving with my family from the centre of civilization to what I saw then as the sticks… Syria… Haran… But still it was a city… and I was a city boy… who grew into a city man… and was settling down to spend the rest of my days there… Surrounded by familiar faces… familiar places… familiar gods… Gods cast in gold and silver or carved from stone and wood, all around the city in shrines and temples… and miniature ones in our own house watching over us day and night with their cold eyes. And under their gaze I had prospered. I had everything I could possibly need in this world… Or nearly everything… My wife Sarai and I had no sons… not even a daughter, to pass on my wealth to, but we were happy… Then everything changed… When God spoke… Not one of our tame household gods… Idols without voices… Gods that we had made… But this was the voice of the God who had made us… At first everyone thought I was mad… At first I tho...