Children are the Beaker People of the Present

It was a joy and unexpected pleasure to have so many people turn up yesterday morning.

In some respects it was just an amazing miracles of timing that three of Arti's grandchildren were visiting on the same day as four children whose parents are thinking of holding a hand-fasting in the Spring. And then two members of Little Pebbles thought they'd see what the "Big Boulders" got up to.

You see, people often say to me that "children are the Beaker People of the future". To which I reply no - children are the Beaker People of today. They're just smaller than the other Beaker Folk.

But on the other hand, we had an issue. Apart from the "holding pen" at the back of the Moot House where we keep the really little ones to stop them moving about, we don't normally have children in our worship. Frankly we find them quite annoying and needy. We use a lot of worship aids - tea lights, pebbles and so on - that can be quite dangerous in bored little hands. And I remember with horror that day when, looking up to check the next line of the Beaker Solemn Prayer on St Jarvis's Day, I saw a three-foot high Optimus Prime - with full working parts - fly across the Moot House and catch poor Hnaef mid-meditation.

And yesterday we had scheduled a two-hour dissertation on "The dialectic between the thought of Karl Barth and Willo-the-Wisp". Which was never going to hold little attention spans for long.

Thankfully, with the improvisational skills for which we are renowned, we were able to re-model the service! Charlii was despatched to put on the squirrel outfit, the Beaker Quire launched into "Father Abraham" and the day was saved!

Charlii gave a wonderful "squirrel Advent monologue" on the Wise and Foolish squirrels. Some of the adult Beaker Folk said it was the first sermon they'd understood all year.

Comfort

It's a point often made that the word "comfort" was originally more about strengthening than about giving people a good feeling and nice cushions.

I mention this because I've just been comforting Charlii after this week's edition of the "Little Pebbles" Holiday club. We deliberately kept it to a day per week this year as we found the gin went down so fast when we held a Holiday Club straight through for five days in the same week. It would have been easier at Camp Quest, of course, where adults could have outnumbered the children. Which would at least have given the children's workers an even chance.

Charlii has been telling me that her call to Druidic ministry came from her strong urge to care for the dying, preach the Word, and give people happy thoughts through the media of tea lights, pebbles and raffia. She was never asked about her calling to children's work all the way through Druidic Discernment. And her squirrel costume has been covered in soft drinks and hula hoops all the way through today's Armageddon - and she doesn't think she's cut out to face the same next week. And she's flinching every time she hears a high-pitched voice behind her.

I've reassured Charlii that she is cut out to be brilliant at children's work. That's what trainees are for, after all. I hoped she wouldn't disappoint me - and the Druidic Discernment Panel - and God, of course - by running from this obvious calling. And I've promised her that she doesn't have to wear the squirrel costume next week. Although to be honest that's not such a big promise. The orange juice is so matted into it, I'm going to have to send it back to Wippell's for repair. Next week, Charlii is going into battle dressed as Spiny Norman, the Hedgehog. Named after the animal that caused such fear to my uncle Dinsdale.

As she went off, I encouraged Charlii to talk to someone about the uncontrollable shaking she seems to have developed. That's what leadership and encouragement is all about, after all.

Holiday Club Alert

I've just popped my head round the door at the "Little Pebbles" Holiday Club.

I'm issuing an Amber Alert. This is where the danger of civil disorder breaking out is between "worrying" and "imminent". But it's only orange juice, not blood, on the walls so I think the leaders are still relatively safe for now. Charlii's squirrel suit is looking a bit battered by now - but then what does she expect when she wears it every day for a fortnight?

All Aged Worship

Of course, it's all very well Drayton moaning and repenting about his heresies. It's not like I didn't have problems of my own yesterday.

The La Tene Folk of Tebworth had invited me to lead their All Age Worship. And, as is customary with our traditions, I'd picked the hymns and readings.
But when I got there I discovered that "All Age" was a synonym for "All Ages from 60 to 90". But, nothing daunted, I stuck with my script. If All Age is what they want, All Age is what they get.

Be fair to them. Some of them were sufficiently free from arthritis to do the actions to "If I were a butterfuly".  Although there was a strong scent of liniment later on during coffee time. And they all enjoyed joining in with a congregational reading of "We're going on a bear hunt". But we had some problems when I let off those party poppers. They though the Blitz had re-started.

The Gaping Maw of Hell

I've had to deal with yet another complaining parent round today saying their child has been having nightmares since Holiday Club.

It was one of the New Daily Songs that caused all the trouble. Apparently the words of "Don't let Hell's Maw Swallow me Whole" were too terrifying. That and the visual representations of Hell's gate, burning with fire and menace, that were projected in 3D onto the overhead projector.  And the way we switched on all the heating even though it was the middle of summer, to simulate the fiery furnaces - infinitely deep or otherwise.

I tried to explain that this is a serious matter. We're not about providing cheap baby-sitting for a week during the summer holidays so hard-pressed parents can have a rest. That's just the bait. We're luring the kids in because we think that Hell is big and scary and death lasts for a very long time. And we feel we have the duty to warn them.  We've tried the opposite in the past - explaining how Jesus is warm and loving, kind and caring. But they just assumed that Jesus was just pretending, like Tony Blair. So we're sticking with the terror.   It may help get things into a better perspective.

So, don't forget.

Do have nightmares.

Chaos in Kibworth

After last Friday's debacle I suspected that Joseph might be following me around, spreading his heresy of the infinitely deep furnace in an infinitely deep pit and trying to steal my converts on my weekly evangelism trips. So today as I stood by the side of that King's Highway of a thoroughfare, the A6 in Kibworth, I was unsurprised to hear the sound of his flip-flops shuffling into place behind me. Truly his flip-flops have the strength of many, for the noise of the A6 reacheth up even to the heavens.

Truly Joseph had his reward today. As he stood behind me, shouting his heresy through his ungodly amplification system, he suddenly had a look of alarm on his face as he heard the sound of fifty pairs of small, stamping feet.
And there they were. The children from the Holiday club, full of the evangelistic fire with which Bob the Baptist had filled them and seized with zeal for the True Light.  A dozen of them picked Joseph up,  carried him down the main road, and were last seen heading for the Golf Club with determined looks on their faces.  I gathered from their cheery cries that they planned to bury him up to his neck in a bunker, as a warning to all heretics.

Please don't misunderstand my intentions here.  I didn't want to leave him, unregenerate backslider that he is, undeserving of Grace as we all are. I would have gone to help him. But I had to deal with the  the other children.  They were supposed to stick around near me and sing evangelistic choruses. But in the light of this morning's teaching, they were off and running round the Kibworths.  And together with the other leaders I had to try to get them all back together before they caused any more devastation.

It didn't help that the subject today had been Ananias and Sapphira. Nor that there had been a lot of coloured candy-covered chocolates handed around.  The middle-class denizens of the Kibworths Beauchamp and Harcourt are a flinty-hearted bunch with necks as of brass. If I were on my own I wouldn't reckon on much in the way of blessing. And yet there's something disconcerting about a gap-toothed little blonde moppet of seven looking up at you. Especially when she says "Give me some money or God will kill you." So little Epangelia did very well, raking in nearly a hundred pounds in donations that I really wasn't looking for, as well as five or six people who agreed to say the "Sinners' Prayer" if her little brother would stop crying.

A bunch of the kids picketed the local licensed establishments, asking people if they were sacrificing the well-being of their own children to pay for their loathsome drinking habits.  While a group of nine or ten stamped down the street, shouting "Sell your house and give the money to Mr Parslow".  I had some quick talking to do, to try to persuade the local constable that I wasn't some kind of middle-England religious Fagin.

The kids came back for the post-Holiday Club ice cream in a fine mood, convinced they had made a major breakthrough against the Gates of Hell. And the people of Kibworth were able to take the boards down from their windows and get on with their lives.

It's Wrong to Wish on Space hardware

It's great to welcome you back to this last day of our Holiday Club!  And what a great week we've had

Now I know this is an exciting time of year astronomically. The sight of shooting stars alerts us to the beauties of God's creation. We can sigh, with the Psalmist - when I consider the wonders of your heavens, the works of your hands - What is Man?

But a word of caution. When looking for shooting stars it is easy for the total astronomical idiot to confuse them with the International Space Station.

So our motto for today is - "Don't forget, kids - it's wrong to wish on space hardware".

It is also, of course, idolatry to wish on a shooting star, and madness to attempt to catch one and put it in your pocket.

So let's get ready to Praise the Lord, and build a New England!


* With thanks to @rosamundi and @robinsons

Holiday Club Day 4 - No more Herods

Thursday is my day off. And so it is my day off today, even in Holiday Club week. I have spent the day prowling the house in a lather of suspense, causing Marjorie repeatedly to ask why I don't go out.

Eventually I had to ask her to drive me around the Leicester ring road for a while to calm me down.

It was the sound, audible all the way from Salem chapel, of the disgusted cries of the children. I'd seen Bob's planned material for today - the demise of King Herod - and had suggested to him that the graphic details of being eaten by worms might be a bit much.

Not to mention the illustrations, involving real worms. I really didn't think some of the gentler souls would have wanted to carry them around in their hands in the way Bob was planning.

So all in all I hope we get all the young people back tomorrow. Between the broken bones and accidental triggering of allergies, we were already dwindling. But I hope the promise of a new King James Bible for anyone that makes it to all five days may keep them hanging on.

Holiday Club - Day 3

Today's Holiday Club theme was Lot's wife, and the way she ended up turned to a pillar of salt after looking back at the destruction of the Cities of the Plain. And what a great new song -  "Don't look back in Admah".

There's been a discernible change to the attitude of the children as the week goes by. Early on they were quite bubbly and excitable, but as we've gone through the sticky ends that the various evil-doers came to, they're increasingly quiet. I'd like to say they're thoughtful and reflective, but I have a sneaky suspicion that it may actually be fear.

Holiday Club - Day 2

And so we came to Sisera. A rousing story with plenty of God's work being done.

I was however of the opinion that the "splitting headache" joke was done an awful lot of times. Especially as I'd always thought, at the time I preached on the story of Jael and Sisera, that I was being so original.

The adaptation of the children's song to "Is that a tent-peg in your eye" was quite amusing, however.

But I'm suffering some regrets over the choice of story, in retrospect. After all, not only was Jael a woman, but Deborah, the judge of Israel at the time, was as well. So the Lord's work was being done by strong, active women in leadership roles.  What on earth were we teaching the children - and especially the young girls - there?

I mentioned my thoughts to Marjorie this afternoon, and she agrees with me that although in Old Testament emergencies it was acceptable for women to take the lead, under the New Testament's guidance this is no longer required. As long as young men see visions and old men dream dreams, we're fine without the female instruction.

Holiday Club - Day 1

Holiday Club! I'm writing in a "fun" colour today to celebrate our day of fun and songs.


So, on the promise of cheap baby-sitting and a couple of hours' peace each day for their parents, we are entrusted with the spiritual welfare of a fair proportion of Frisby's children. It gives you a sense of terrible responsibility.


All in all, we had quite an encouraging day. Only two of the young people had to be taken to hospital - one broken arm and one allergic reaction to eating seven chocolate bars. And it was only two hours after hearing the story of Ham and his curse that some of the older boys stopped laughing.


But Baptist Bob's "epilogue" seemed to really hit the spot. He asked the young people if they wanted to go to heaven - and needless to say they all stuck their hands up in the air.  Then he told them that, as things stood, none of them would.  God was a loving God - but that they would all be damned to burn in Hell unless they started loving him back. Some of the younger ones were moved to genuine tears of repentance, and I'm sure not fear as one of the mothers claimed. Unless it was the godly fear of the righteous.  


Two of them even offered to clean the chapel if it would make God love them better. So I was delighted to explain to them that salvation is by grace, and through faith, and that they didn't need to work for God to love them.  Although I still let them clean the chapel, to show the fruits of repentance.


All in all, a great day. I can't wait for tomorrow!