Sermons And Gubbins

  This poem was one of two written for our monthly church poetry group at St Michael's. The theme was 'time'. This one is a bit less bleak than the other! Time and Tide The old boys sit on the bench by the sea, smoke fags and shoot the breeze. The north wind blows salt from the surf in their eyes  and ash falls unnoticed on their knees. They talk of the times and the girls they had. They eat chips and mushy peas. They talk of more recent heart pains and aches, of strokes and lung disease.  The old boys shuffle their shoes in the sand then stand with aged ill-ease. They nod, and turn and wander off. Time, gentlemen, please.

This poem was one of two written for our monthly church poetry group at St Michael's. The theme was 'time'.  Out of the Window There was a day  When Time did not so much run away   As fling wide the window  and hurl itself out, head first, without a care for the fall or how long it would be  before springs and cogs and oil  spewed out across the road, causing cars to swerve; with Time, instantaneously suspended; unable to move at any miles per hour. It had been fun. You were supposed to fly. From that moment forward,  hours lasted for months. And years went by before I could gather a sentient thought. The very essence of my world captured in a freeze-frame of perpetual collision. These words mean nothing now: After, Then, Next . If, Tomorrow, Soon. There is no  Now ; There is only  Before . Now, my wounds will not heal. I am greyer; that much I know. I see less well. Am I older? How could I be? I hear the tick, tick, tick... But it is a...

This sermon was given at our All Souls service on the evening of Sunday 30th October. I hope you enjoy reading it. I’d like to start this evening by reiterating the welcome Huw extended to you at the start of our service this evening. Whilst you may not wish to be here today – because the very fact that you are here tonight means that you are mourning somebody you have loved who is no longer with us on earth, you are welcome here. You are welcome to worship, or to mourn, or to do both, or do neither. You are welcome to join in, and you are welcome simply to sit, and to just be . This year as a nation, we have all taken part in a prescribed period of mourning for Queen Elizabeth II, and although that period was directed by such public institutions as the Royal Family, the government and the BBC, when it comes to personal mourning, there is no right way to grieve; there is only your way, unique to you.  That may feel an isolating experience sometimes. Grief is often lonely. But to...

This sermon was given at our Sunday morning service on 29th March. Obviously, due to Covid 19, there was no opportunity to meet in person, so we have been experimenting with doing a mixture of pre-recorded and live services - you can check us out on Facebook - St Michael's, Flixton . If you'd prefer to see me deliver this sermon instead of reading it, there's a youtube link directly below. If you'd rather not turn your speakers on just now, then please read the transcript instead. Peace be with you!   There’s been a good deal of advice around recently about looking on the bright side of this strange situation we all find ourselves in. Sometimes, if we’re unable to find time ourselves, it is good to be forced to take a step back and evaluate, with time to sit, and think, and reflect and pray. I hope, for you, this time of self-isolation and social distancing is a time in which you have been able to do some of these things. For me, so far, it has not been. ...

I've been thinking a lot about our reading from the Old Testament this week. It's probably the most famous section from the book of Ecclesiastes, and many of us probably know it as a pop song, rather than a quotation from the Bible - from the song ' Turn! Turn! Turn! ', made famous by The Byrds in the 1960s. The concept that there is a season for all things under the sun has been what's got me thinking this week. In the past four days, I've been to two funerals. I've absolutely been thinking about there being a time to weep, a time to mourn, and a time to die. For one of the funerals I attended, that idea of 'a time to die' was fitting. Marion was 91 years' old. She and her husband Philip had raised a son, of whom they had excellent reasons for feeling proud, seen their two granddaughters grow into successful and strong women, and lived to see and enjoy the presence of four beautiful great-grandchildren, the latest being Miriam, my daughter....

There’s a phrase – five small words – that people utter when they’re trying to empathise with you. People say it with the best of intentions, trying to bridge a gap of grief or loss, attempting to reach out and find some common ground. It’s a phrase that tries to be kind; that tries to be helpful. … I think it’s the most annoying phrase in the English language: “ I know how you fee l”. I’m sure I’ve uttered it before, and I’m thankful I wasn’t met with a swift slap in the face, to be honest. It’s certainly what I’ve felt like doing when people have said it to me. Because, the thing is, standing here in this pulpit tonight, I don’t know how you feel. I’ve not lost a partner or a mother or a father, or a daughter or a son. I’ve not lost a brother or a sister. I have lost other relatives, and my life is unequivocally emptier without good friends I have known who have died in years gone by. I also carry with me the grief of nearly ten years of my wife and I being unable to ...

This meditation was written for our Good Friday Last Hour at the Cross service - Friday 30th March 2018. The service included five music tracks that fit the theme of Good Friday, focussing on death, and the cross. You can find a list of them at the bottom of the meditation. So, this is it. The Last Hour. I remember when I was small, an hour would last a lifetime;  boring car-journeys that went on for miles bending the laws of time and space;  dull maths lessons that stretched out over eons, as far into the future as I could imagine.  Now? Now, those sixty minutes can pass by in the blinking of an eye.  I can sit down for ten seconds only to find an afternoon has been spent. I look at your cross. I wonder how long that Last Hour lasted for you.  Did it feel like eternity to you? Was it eternity to you?  Is it eternal? To you, outside of time, it must surely have been both –  the blinking of an eye, and the life...