Coffee Morning

I just popped in from another of our successful evangelistic programmes, the Coffee Morning. I've always been very worried about the use of coffee. It's not in the Bible and therefore I have no idea whether God approves or disapproves of its use. I know the latitudarian view would be that if it's not forbidden it's allowed, but I'm not sure that's such a wise maxim. I prefer to take the middle view that if it's not forbidden it's suspect.

In any case, I was hoping to talk to some of the other local Unsaved that I hear attend for the excellent economy-level fair-trade instant coffee. But Jimmy was there with his girlfriend.

I've heard rumours that young Arabella is some kind of Anglican. Therefore I approached the two of them discreetly, to find out whether Arabella is the sort of namby-pamby pinko-liberal equal-opportunities Anglican that might be just the sort of person to lead Jimmy into the kind of sexual sin that I am convinced lies behind his eczema. However on closer inspection Arabella herself appears to be clear of infectious skin diseases of any kind. So I mentioned to her that on balance, it would appear Jimmy's hidden depravity was either confined to Jimmy himself or that he was going elsewhere to satisfy his appetites.

When I left a few minutes ago, Jimmy was sitting, his coffee untouched, with a kind of strained look on his face. While Arabella was glaring across the table at him with pursed lips - and not pursed in such a way as to be preparing to kiss.

A nice girl, Arabella. I'm sure she'll sort him out.

Bridging the cultural gap

It is often said that the Church has a cultural gap when "reaching out" to the World, that unredeemed and unlovely mass of unsaved Mankind* condemned to eternal purgation. Generally in my experience the True Church can be recognised by the joyous outpouring of a heart that knows the love of God, expressed as an outward sign by a fixed and yet spontaneous grin at all times.

But to bridge that cultural gap, the church Music Group has taken to playing at Friday Nights at the Crown and Cushion in Frisby on Soar. And today I took the opportunity, in my first week in the new role, to introduce myself to the "locals".

So while the Music Group repeatedly played "Our God Reigns", which is the only song they can currently play (and even then Erbert is at Capo-8) I made myself known to the quaffers and diners.

It was a joyous time of sharing the Gospel. I told those who were drinking that alcohol is the effluent of the Horned One, and that every additional millilitre was bringing them closer to the Dark Place. And I cautioned the diners that on the day of reckoning, the Entrecotes and Fillets on which they were gorging themselves will turn to ashes in their mouths, just as the world itself will dissolve in ashes.

Having prepared the ground so well, I was about to share with them the Good News that, if they would only turn and rend their hearts and repent, they would be as full of the Gospel and Holy Spirit as I myself. However before I could do so, the landlord threw me out into the street. I bounced off the pavement a couple of times before landing in the gutter. At which point a couple of members of my own congregation, wandering past on a prayer tour of the neighbourhood, looked down at me and said,

"Typical minister. Just as plastered as the last one."

I will remember to expose these people for the unspiritual hypocrites they clearly are, when I preach my sermon on Sunday. In the meantime I will rejoice in my persecution by the landlord of the Crown and Cushion, remembering that in the same way as he treated me, he treated the prophets before me. Truly I have become a fool for Christ.

* I use the term "Man" and "Mankind" rather than the more trendy modern terms "Person" and "Hupersonity", to make it clear that while women are just as prone to be hell-bound as the male of the species, being the weaker gender they're not so much to blame, poor things.

Pastoral Duties

Every Friday, the ladies of Frisby Independent Baptists hold a "Mums and Toddlers" Group.

When I heard this I approved. A form of evangelism, meeting people at the place where they have need. What could be better? So when Mrs Forbes invited me along for tea and buns with the mothers and toddlers, I was delighted.

But I was less sanguine about it after I visited the group. On close questioning of a number of the mothers, I discovered that not all were actually married to the fathers of their children. A few were divorced, some had never married, and several were actually living in a state of unmarried, blissful unwedlock.

Obviously when I realised the situation I withdrew rapidly. I knew I must pray and consider before doing anything rash. Clearly driving a dozen or so young ladies and their assorted children out into the street for their promiscuous behaviour would be wrong, however deserving of such treatment they might be. So I explained that I was in need of a period of prayer and left.

I've taken a few cold showers since this morning, so I'm feeling clean again now. And I'm still wondering how I'm going to deal with situation. Just as soon as I've sacked Mrs Forbes for running such a group of ill-repute, I'll put my mind to the problem properly.

Festering Sin Continues

Saw young Jimmy again today, down in Frisby-on-Soar Building Society.

Eczema looks worse.

I blame the sin.

I told him so, and I gave him a list of particular sins - particularly sexual ones - that might be causing this issue.

Odd. He didn't thank me. Just apologised to all the other people in the queue.

Counselling

My first visitor for Pastoral Counselling.

Jimmy, one of the members of the Young Adults Group, is suffering from awful eczema. He wondered whether I'd pray for his healing. Apparently the previous minister, Mr Syston Whyte-Plumb, had prayed for him but without success.

But I sensed that the healing Jimmy needed was much deeper than merely physical healing. I suggested that he is suffering from unconfessed sin - that his physical manifestations are in fact caused by some filthy, unmentionable, unspeakable sin. One that must be brought to the surface and named before it is healed.

I told Jimmy that, to be on the safe side, I was banning him from attending Divine Worship until the sin is repented of and forgiven. I suggested he go away and pray - on bended knees, and with the trembling fear of Eternal fire - that this sin be revealed to him, so we can resolve it through prayer.

Clearly, he was greatly moved. Pierced to the heart, some would say. But he still wouldn't tell me what sin he is concealing. But he did say he'd go off and pray about it.

Broken

I was sorting through some more worship materials in the chapel when I found the words of "Morning has broken" laying around the shelves in the narthex. "Morning has Broken"?

I've no idea what my predecessor was playing at.

"Morning has Broken" is a hymn saying that the world as it is, is good. As good - indeed - as in Eden before the Fall. But it is not true. The world is - Broken. Broken. Broken. There is no good in it. That we must see before we can rise. Before we can see that the way ahead is to leave the Broken and cling onto what Will be Whole. Flee the city, looking not back, for fear we turn to salt. Cling not onto the sunlight, the dew and the morning - it's not just like the first light that Eden saw play. It's broken.

Come away, brethren. It's all Broken. Your hope is not here. It's elsewhere. Where things aren't Broken.

Service Planning

A day of great blessing in the chapel, sorting out which direction I want to take the worship in.

The hymn book seems generally acceptable. A strong line on the need for repentance, together with the overflowing and glorious grace of our ever loving God - slow to anger, swift in love. And plenty of reminders of the fiery fate that awaits those who fall away. Indeed, my eye was taken by a rather beautiful setting of Hebrews 6:4-12. A stern, yet loving, reminder indeed.

For much the same reason, I've decided we're going to introduce the use of a creed. The Frisby Independent Baptists aren't keen on liturgy. However I feel that the use of the Athanasian Creed on special occasions will help impress everyone with the importance of not sliding back into condemnation. I particularly like the beginning and the end, although I've had to expunge any references to the "Catholic" faith, or substitute the word for something more acceptable. Best not confuse the faithful. So the key passages for me are:

"Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the Reformed Faith. Which Faith except every one do keep whole and undefiled; without doubt he shall perish everlastingly .... And they that have done good shall go into life everlasting; and they that have done evil, into everlasting fire."

I think everyone will know where he (or even she) stands now.

Frisby Independent Baptists

I've surely been blessed in this sudden appointment to Pastor of the Frisby Independent Baptists.

Situated in the beautiful, undulating countryside of Leicestershire, the Frisby Independent Baptist Church has been fighting the forces of modernism, liberalism and decidedly suspect Anglo-Catholicism for four centuries.

For most of the congregation's history, the converts to our particularly austere and biblically-based creed have been baptised in the well outside the chapel. But with the coming of heating, and a general dislike to being pushed into icy water in the middle of winter - all baptisms are held at Christmas - there's a growing desire amongst the congregation that we should build a baptistry. I heard all about this suggestion at my selection interview, but I'm keeping my powder dry. Partly because I've only been in the post for the last eleven hours, partly because I'm not sure whether the finances of the assembly are strong enough to bear such expense.
But mostly because I'd rather we stuck to the old way. We will not bow down to the forces of modernity, no matter how many people are struck down with pneumonia.

A post-script

Young Keith was unexpectedly elected to Parliament as MP for the Husborne Crawley constituency.  There is a suspicion that his uncle, the Police Officer, may have "arranged" for only family members to get into the Reading Room to vote.  As a result of the sheer number of young, new MPs, Keith was able to pretend to be a Tory to the Lib Dem leadership and vice-versa, and blag himself a role as "Minister for Unnecessary Spending". In this position he has been feathering his nest relentlessly ever since.

Stacey Bushes moved to Bletchley to find some men she hadn't worn out yet.

Burton Dasset went back to his old accountancy practice full-time. With the extra spare time he now has, he's been developing an interest in collecting milk bottles. So far his collection amounts to six bottles, but Express are starting to ask for them back.  Having visited a small village in south Warwickshire, he is now distraught to discover that he has been mis-spelt for the last four years.

Drayton Parslow has a new job.

Marston Moretaine found his life bereft of purpose without the Folk and turned to artificial stimulants to try to find some meaning. Unfortunately, being Marston, his stimulant of choice was avocados. He ate so many that he became embittered with life and determined to make everyone else's life a misery. So he's joined a local council as Environment Officer.


Edith Weston was never very interesting anyway, so she's rented an allotment.

The Beaker Fertility Folk were still out on Aspley Heath last we heard. They'll be in for a shock when they wander back to the Great House in the Autumn.

Archdruid Eileen and the Hnaefs are Lost in Wessex.

The Moon also Sets

We got back a bit late. You know how it is. We should have been here for Sunday and the Egg Throwing, but it never happened.  You get on the South Coast, you never want to leave.  And Burton wouldn't get off West Bay Beach until he'd counted every grain of sand.

And then we got caught up at Stonehenge and... well, anyway, we're here now.

But Eileen's not. Just a sign saying "Sold" and a big empty house. And some big blokes in leather jackets who told us to clear off or they'd hurt us.

I wonder what it all means?  Surely she hadn't read this?

And I wonder what she did with all the valuables she took off us for safe keeping?

Tomorrow Never Comes

And about all the pain well, you know it was worth it
You could do it again but I just don't deserve it.
Let us part in the rain so the clouds hide
the despair and the sorrow I feel on the inside and
let my tears dry by the light of a setting sun.
And tomorrow....