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The Story of the Unnamed Woman (2024)

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This is a (slightly) updated version of my story from 2015 and was given for my sermon on Sunday 30th June 2024. The gospel was Mark 5:21-43 . I hope you enjoy reading it!      She’d heard he was going to be there. The talk on the street was of nothing else. The man who worked miracles, who cast out demons, who cured the sick, was in town. She knew she had to be there too. Perhaps, just perhaps , he’d take pity on her? Perhaps this was her chance?  That’s why she was there that day. That’s why she was being jostled back-and-forth in that crowd – every one of them hoping to catch a glimpse of the teacher. For her, though, a glimpse was not enough.       She wasn’t just ill. As awful as the constant bleeding made her feel, that wasn’t the worst of it. She was ‘unclean’. Physically and spiritually . She hadn’t been allowed in the synagogue for twelve years – hadn’t been allowed to worship God for twelve years. She shouldn’t even be out in public, ...

Promises, Promises

This poem was written for our June monthly poetry group. The theme was 'a broken promise'. I hope you enjoy reading it! Promises, Promises 'You promised I could watch TV'; 'You promised you would eat your tea'. 'You promised I'd sit on your knee'; 'You promised you would leave me be'. 'You promised you would play with me'; 'You promised not to disagree'. 'You promised I could keep both hands free'; 'You promised to not hurt anybody'. 'You promised we'd be gone by three'; 'No more promises; we'll see.'

Heresy Bingo

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This sermon was written for our Trinity Sunday service on Sunday 26th May 2024. I hope you enjoy reading it! Eleven years ago, I sat in what was then Vicky Johnson’s office, over the road, and talked to her about the possibility of me becoming a Reader. I remember saying to her at the time that I was worried about preaching, as some of my views about God were probably heretical! Vicky laughed and replied that someone had once told her that all good sermons had a bit of heresy in them! Whether she believed that or just said it to make me feel a bit better at the time, it’s often brought me a bit of courage when writing sermons – it’s allowed me to say the braver thing, rather than the safer thing – and I like to think, it’s helped me to become a better preacher.   And – if it’s true – well, buckle up, ‘cause today’s sermon is going to be a doozy!   Today is Trinity Sunday. And today, brave preachers up and down the country are going to be preaching heresy – accid...

Little Wins

This poem was written for our May monthly poetry group. The theme for this poem was 'little things'. I hope you enjoy it! Little Wins When I've no time to park, and there's one perfect space,  When the first hints of summer shine warm on my face, When I find a tenner in my trouser back pocket,  When I'm sipping a whisky and eating dark chocolate,  When the fresh shoots of a plant appear in the pot, When the beer is ice-cold but the company's not, When the last call of the day ends, a half hour to spare, When I can sit listening to music with a cat in my chair, When I'm watching the sun sinking into the sea,  When we've not booked at the restaurant, but there's one table free,  When I finally solve a longstanding bug, When I make a fresh brew in my favourite mug,  When the takeaway driver knocks at my door, When I still fit the shorts I bought the summer before,  When the last piece of the jigsaw fits right into place, When someone reminds me of mercy...

Free Reign

This poem was written for our April poetry evening. There was no theme given for the evening, and we were free to write about anything... As you might be able to tell from my poem, I found this tricky! Free Reign I'm unconstrained, free as a bird. My journey remains unplanned. I am a newborn's first unspoken word; My path's in the palm of my hand. The choices in front, unfathomable. There's nothing I couldn't do. A rapture of roads unexaminable. My future yonder; wild and blue.  Ahead of me is a tall blank slate  My pages yet unwrit. An unlimited menu with a huge clean plate. My wick is trimmed, my lamp just lit. I could do anything I like. I could do nothing, nothing at all. I could see all the world, get on my bike... I could stay here, staring at the wall. Shall I write a symphony? Paint a master work of art? A *whole* hour ahead that's just for me!  ...I've not a bloody clue where to start.