Yesterday I was commissioned as a probationary minister in the Methodist church in Ireland. As I stood at the front of conference I was a swirling wreck of emotions. On one hand I was calm to the point of being numb, almost feeling like I was a mere observer, then there was the rising sense of panic as I looked at all the clerical collars and realised I was in the process of joining this band. Me in a clerical collar and being called Reverend? Not possible! Then there was the emotion as the President spoke of what it meant to be set aside for this holy work. He also spoke of how in our inadequacies the Holy Spirit can work; he encouraged us to never fear feeling inadequate. My fellow probationers and myself became the focus of a love scrum as the good and great hugged, kissed and shook hands with us. I was fine until Bert Montgomery came over and shook hands with me.
Bert led my wife to faith and has been a great influence on me. I study with his son, who is also a fine man and a future leader of our church. As I looked at Bert now bent low by age and illness my whole journey stretched before me and I realised how far I have travelled from our first meeting when I pinned him to the wall with a socialist polemic on how the churches were failing. I managed to hold it together, but it was touch and go. Bert nodded but his eyes showed he knew what I was thinking and momentarily he too became emotional. It was “the” moment of the ceremony for me. In that moment God’s grace and love shone through. It was all over in ten seconds, but in God’s time a lot can happen in ten seconds.
Give thanks to the Lord for he is good. His love endures forever.
Monday 13 June 2011
Wednesday 28 July 2010
A Letter To Baird
Baird,
I have been trying to contact you, with no success. For some reason your new number didn’t show up in the missed calls log of my fancy new iphone. (Did I mention I got an iPhone at last?) After a little bit of lateral thinking I went back to the voicemail and sure enough there was an option to call the person who left the message. So I phoned you, but you were out! Or I assume you were out, perhaps you saw it was me on caller ID and hid in the closet.
So I replayed the message and wrote the number down and then updated it on my fancy new iPhone. I called you the next day and guess what? I had written it down incorrectly.
I went back to the voicemail and wrote your number down again and updated my fancy new iPhone once again. (I’m sure I mentioned I got an iPhone at last?) I called you yesterday and guess what? You have changed your number! So I kicked in the lateral thinking once more and sent a text to your mobile, but a short time later I got a message informing me that your phone had rejected my text.
Now I’m suspicious that you are taking extreme measures to avoid me. On the slim chance that you are not and at the risk of seeming like a stalker I engaged once more in the now nearly exhausted lateral thinking. As all 21st century options to contact you have failed I turned to my new and somewhat underused education. After trawling through ethics, pastoral theology, both Old and New Testaments, pausing briefly in Goodacher’s single source theories, plus a quick detour into Islam, Judaism and pluralist reasoning I was left with only one question. What would Mr Wesley do?
Well the answer was clear, but do you know how hard it is to buy a horse in Belfast these days? I next thought of moving into the Ballyholme area and setting up a house group in the hope that I may run into you at some point, but then I realised how much I really dislike the Bangor area in general. This left me with only one option, write a letter!
So Baird if you could phone, text or even email me your new number I could perhaps find time for a conversation.
Looking forward with some excitement to your reply.
None of my contact details have changed.
I have been trying to contact you, with no success. For some reason your new number didn’t show up in the missed calls log of my fancy new iphone. (Did I mention I got an iPhone at last?) After a little bit of lateral thinking I went back to the voicemail and sure enough there was an option to call the person who left the message. So I phoned you, but you were out! Or I assume you were out, perhaps you saw it was me on caller ID and hid in the closet.
So I replayed the message and wrote the number down and then updated it on my fancy new iPhone. I called you the next day and guess what? I had written it down incorrectly.
I went back to the voicemail and wrote your number down again and updated my fancy new iPhone once again. (I’m sure I mentioned I got an iPhone at last?) I called you yesterday and guess what? You have changed your number! So I kicked in the lateral thinking once more and sent a text to your mobile, but a short time later I got a message informing me that your phone had rejected my text.
Now I’m suspicious that you are taking extreme measures to avoid me. On the slim chance that you are not and at the risk of seeming like a stalker I engaged once more in the now nearly exhausted lateral thinking. As all 21st century options to contact you have failed I turned to my new and somewhat underused education. After trawling through ethics, pastoral theology, both Old and New Testaments, pausing briefly in Goodacher’s single source theories, plus a quick detour into Islam, Judaism and pluralist reasoning I was left with only one question. What would Mr Wesley do?
Well the answer was clear, but do you know how hard it is to buy a horse in Belfast these days? I next thought of moving into the Ballyholme area and setting up a house group in the hope that I may run into you at some point, but then I realised how much I really dislike the Bangor area in general. This left me with only one option, write a letter!
So Baird if you could phone, text or even email me your new number I could perhaps find time for a conversation.
Looking forward with some excitement to your reply.
None of my contact details have changed.
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