Post by JEM on Jun 8, 2020 13:13:33 GMT
JOHN GODDARD'S THOUGHT FOR THE DAY 2020 APRIL.22nd
Welcome to this Thought for the Week email. We have also produced a short video that can be found on YouTube that also explores these thoughts.
As I was walking in some local woods a few days ago I walked past this shelter and I began to think about the Transfiguration of Jesus (Matthew 17.1-9). On a mountain top, Peter, James and John saw the majesty of Jesus revealed as his face shone like the sun and Moses and Elijah appeared and began to talk with him. Whilst this was really a moment for stunned silence, Peter (who always had something to say) blurted out “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” His question got lost as God’s majesty continued to be revealed in increasing glory: ‘While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”’
Was Peter’s suggestion driven in part by his Old Testament understanding of the temple or tabernacle as places where God’s undiluted presence could be found? As Peter sees the power of God in Jesus, Moses and Elijah, it must have seemed natural to him to offer to create some tabernacles so that the presence of God could dwell in a way that fitted with his understanding. Peter’s desire was to try to bottle the presence of God and in contrast to this Jesus leads them down the mountain. Jesus knew there was no need to try to ‘bottle’ or cling to the presence of God because it could be freely poured out again and again and again. Is our understanding of God’s presence closer to that of Peter’s thinking here than we would like to admit? We would all say that God is present everywhere and that he is at work in the world but the way we sometimes engage missionally implies much more of a tabernacle like understanding of God’s presence.
Peter wants to put Jesus in a shelter, but Jesus wants to take God’s presence into the world.
Peter wants to bottle the presence of God, but Jesus wants to see the presence poured out.
In the past month, churches have been turned inside out as we have been forced to take our approaches to discipleship completely out of church buildings. I wonder if in years to come we will look back and see this aspect of what we are going through as a blessing rather than a curse? This global Pandemic is horrendous and whilst I don’t believe that God caused it, I do believe that he is at work in it. I’m reminded of the first Christians who were told to go into all the world with the gospel but who instead settled in Jerusalem. A few months later and a great persecution caused the church to be scattered and as a result the gospel began to spread throughout the world. Will we allow the lock down we are in to reshape our thinking about God’s presence? Are we open to hearing what the Spirit is saying in these troubling times? If you watch the video, you will see that when we came to film that the shelter had been knocked down and I wonder if this a prophetic picture? I hope and pray that during these troubling times that any ‘come to us mentality’ that still influences our evangelism would finally be broken. May we embrace the truth that God lives in us which means that people can find God in and through us rather than having to go to a building. ‘We are temples of the Holy Spirit’ (1 Cor 6.19, Ephesians 2. 21-22), what does this really mean? Peter never got to build his shelters. Jesus wasn’t willing to be put into lockdown, rather he chose to take God’s healing presence into a hurting world, and this is still his priority. Will we join Jesus in this pouring out rather than trying to bottle the presence of God just for ourselves?
Peter never got to build his shelters. Jesus wasn’t willing to be put into lockdown, rather he chose to take God’s healing presence into a hurting world, and this is still his priority. Will we join Jesus in this pouring out rather than trying to bottle the presence of God just for ourselves?
JOHN GODDARD'S THOUGHT FOR THE DAY 2020 APRIL.23rd
A few thoughts on preaching…One of the stranger things I have been doing during the current COVID-19 lockdown is preaching sermons to my phone in various quiet corners of the house. It’s not quite as bizarre as it sounds, in that they are then uploaded to YouTube and find something of an audience, but it is a very odd experience to be preaching without a congregation. Preaching is a community act; it is an interactive engagement between the preacher and their congregation which also dares to believe that God is also involved – that in the speaking there is also a listening for God, and in the hearing there is a response not simply to the preacher but to the Author of Life.
Of course, that’s on a good day. On a bad day it’s an exercise in desperately trying to say something of help and comfort when everything around you seems distorted and disturbed and you don’t feel adequate to the task and you can’t remember why you thought that anyone would be interested in anything you have to say, and you are puzzled as to why you have given your life to explaining texts from the ancient past. But let’s move on…
I’m sometimes asked how long it takes to write a sermon. This can be a question of genuine interest, or just occasionally something akin to the old ‘you ministers only work one day a week’ chestnut. There was a tradition in some quarters that suggested a minister should spend an hour in the study for every minute in the pulpit, which given that for much of my ministry I have preached twice a Sunday for 25 to 30 minutes would suggest there was nothing else to do! This has not been my experience.
My preferred response to the question ‘how long does it take to write a sermon?’ would be to suggest that my current sermons have taken around 40 years. Everything I have read and heard and done in my life since becoming a Christian at the tender age of 14 (and in the years before that too probably…) feeds into what is spoken in a sermon today.
I started to preach in churches when I was just 16. In my Methodist context, and at the prompting of a visiting preacher, I requested a ‘note to preach’ and was paired up with an experienced Local Preacher, Ron Lomas. Ron was one of my Boys’ Brigade leaders, and during the week worked at the local factory (Ferodo Brake Linings – everyone worked there…) as Commissionaire – a well dressed form of gate security. I learned by following and watching and trying – and I am so grateful to him and to the Chapels back home who coped with a young lad trying his best. They were usually very supportive, even if I did get the occasional piece of advice to get a haircut. They taught me to speak up, and their generosity in listening set me on a course that continues to this day. I even learnt to forgive the occasional look of disappointment when they realised that I was the preacher and not my mother – we are both J. Goddard, and in the days when rural chapels hung the name of the preacher on the board outside some confusion ensued. I remain grateful to those chapels in Chinley, Whitehough, Fernilee, Combs, Bagshaw, Buxworth, WhaleyBridge, White Knowle, Dove Holes, Kettleshulme, and Chapel-en-le-Frith – our Circuit of Methodist churches in our corner of the Derbyshire High Peak.
Since those days I have preached in countless churches around the country, and I have had the privilege of being called to be the Minister of Baptist churches in Wolvercote, Woodstock, Barrow-in-Furness and Saffron Walden. All the people, all the conversations, all the funerals and weddings and baptisms and thanksgivings, all the meals and parties and committees and meetings, and all of my life that has happened away from church – all of it is involved in the writing of a sermon each week.
So, how long does it take to write a sermon? A couple of hours, and the whole of your life.
And how long does it take to hear a sermon? Depending on the preacher anything from 8 minutes to the best part of an hour! Yes, some sermons are that long… I’m told that some Scottish churches used to have an hour glass in the pulpit – the preacher would go up into the pulpit, turn the glass over, and wasn’t allowed to escape until the hour was up. When I was a young preacher I heard a wonderful story, one of those true stories that might not actually have happened, of a young preacher arriving for the first time at a village chapel and being greeted by the Church Steward with the offer of a cup of tea at the end of the service. This seemed like a good idea to the preacher so further instructions were given; ‘When you start to preach you’ll see me place a kettle on the stove. When it starts to boil it’s time to finish!’ A little taken aback, the preacher had the presence of mind to ask how long the kettle took to boil? The response was priceless – ‘Usually 20 minutes, but for some of the preachers we get I only half fill the kettle…’
But rather like writing a sermon, hearing one also requires the whole of your life. You bring to the occasion everything you have lived and experienced, and on a good day you receive strength, patience, challenge and grace for living in the days ahead.
How long does it take to hear a sermon? About 20 minutes, and the whole of your life
JOHN GODDARD'S THOUGHT FOR THE DAY 2020 APRIL.24th
As I was reflecting yesterday on how sermons come to be written, I was reminded of a glorious character from back home in Derbyshire, the late Rev Dr William Simpson, who was known to many as ‘Uncle Willie’ (the title of his affectionate biography by Don Borland, 1995) but to a youngster like me he was always Mr Simpson.
Willie Simpson was a minister in the Congregational tradition who, following a series of fruitful ministries returned home to North Derbyshire in his mid 60s and became minister of the church that meets in the beautiful old Chapel in the shadow of the railway viaducts at Chapel Milton, Chinley Chapel. Some years later, with Mr Simpson well into his 70s they called a new minister, and Willie took on the little Independent Chapel at Brierley Green, Buxworth, just a few yards from his home. As his biographer commented 20 or so years later, aged 96 he had never attempted retirement! He continued to preach well past his 100th birthday and was finally promoted to glory in 2003 aged 104.
Willie Simpson was well loved by the churches and communities of Chapel, Chinley and Buxworth, despite (or because of) some dangerous eccentricities. Whenever Mr Simpson needed to go somewhere he was known for stepping into the road to flag down a passing car. Invariably he got the lift he needed, even if the driver was actually headed in entirely the other direction. The lifts were not all local affairs either, with one story circulating widely about the time he needed to visit someone in hospital in the Midlands, and the driver he flagged down just happened to be going to that part of the world on business! And in case you are worried that he was left stranded there, his return trip was made in the cab of a lorry belonging to one of the local hauliers, against all the rules, but on the assurance that Mr Simpson knew that his boss wouldn’t mind once he heard it was him…
My Uncle John and Aunt Norma became members at Brierley Green, with John using his excellent joinery skills to keep the Chapel maintained, and Norma, after Mr Simpson’s death, taking on responsibility for booking preachers. And so, some years after his death I preached at Brierley Green Chapel and noticed on the hat-stand in the entrance one of Mr Simpson’s old hats. I knew it was one of his, for he was of the generation who would always not only wear a hat, but doff it in greeting, and as such his hats would wear out with constant lifting! This mark of respect for all he met was an important feature of his faith, and reminds me of the story Desmond Tutu tells of his childhood. His mother was in domestic service in South Africa and he was stood waiting with her on the stoep of the Blind Institute in Roodepoort when a tall white man in a black cassock walked past. Tutu was amazed to see this white priest doff his hat to his mother, a mark of respect so unusual that he still speaks of it as a turning point in his life. The man was an Anglican Priest, Trevor Huddleston, and young Desmond was set upon the road to becoming one of the greatest Anglicans of the 20th century.
In 1985 Mr Simpson conducted my Grandma Goddard’s funeral. She hadn’t been a member of his church, being a Primitive Methodist by birth and conviction, but in later life they had been firm friends. I think it was usually a Thursday afternoon that Mr Simpson would walk over from Brierley Green to Silk Hill, often with a few eggs or some freshly picked berries, and he would usually return with a jar of jam, some home baking, or maybe even some of her famous potted meat. I am sure they both enjoyed the company, but there was also another purpose to the afternoon. Mr Simpson would often discuss his next sermon with Grandma, often reading the sermon to her and seeking her thoughts and response. Two long lives lived in faith, sharing their faith together.
Mr Simpson’s sermons apparently followed a very particular structure, delivered carefully and thoughtfully over 20 to 25 minutes from a written script covering 2 sides of A4, and he probably preached well over 7000 in his ministry. But, as his biographer comments quoting Mr Simpson, the real sermon was his life. Faithful and available, to his God and his community.In a world of novelty and innovation we must always find the time and space to treasure the importance of faithfulness for the long haul. We need to be always open to change and grace, but that should not preclude us from hearing the stories of those who lived long in the service of our God; of those who have received their welcome into eternal rest with the words of Jesus, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ (Matthew 25:21)
Welcome to this Thought for the Week email. We have also produced a short video that can be found on YouTube that also explores these thoughts.
As I was walking in some local woods a few days ago I walked past this shelter and I began to think about the Transfiguration of Jesus (Matthew 17.1-9). On a mountain top, Peter, James and John saw the majesty of Jesus revealed as his face shone like the sun and Moses and Elijah appeared and began to talk with him. Whilst this was really a moment for stunned silence, Peter (who always had something to say) blurted out “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” His question got lost as God’s majesty continued to be revealed in increasing glory: ‘While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”’
Was Peter’s suggestion driven in part by his Old Testament understanding of the temple or tabernacle as places where God’s undiluted presence could be found? As Peter sees the power of God in Jesus, Moses and Elijah, it must have seemed natural to him to offer to create some tabernacles so that the presence of God could dwell in a way that fitted with his understanding. Peter’s desire was to try to bottle the presence of God and in contrast to this Jesus leads them down the mountain. Jesus knew there was no need to try to ‘bottle’ or cling to the presence of God because it could be freely poured out again and again and again. Is our understanding of God’s presence closer to that of Peter’s thinking here than we would like to admit? We would all say that God is present everywhere and that he is at work in the world but the way we sometimes engage missionally implies much more of a tabernacle like understanding of God’s presence.
Peter wants to put Jesus in a shelter, but Jesus wants to take God’s presence into the world.
Peter wants to bottle the presence of God, but Jesus wants to see the presence poured out.
In the past month, churches have been turned inside out as we have been forced to take our approaches to discipleship completely out of church buildings. I wonder if in years to come we will look back and see this aspect of what we are going through as a blessing rather than a curse? This global Pandemic is horrendous and whilst I don’t believe that God caused it, I do believe that he is at work in it. I’m reminded of the first Christians who were told to go into all the world with the gospel but who instead settled in Jerusalem. A few months later and a great persecution caused the church to be scattered and as a result the gospel began to spread throughout the world. Will we allow the lock down we are in to reshape our thinking about God’s presence? Are we open to hearing what the Spirit is saying in these troubling times? If you watch the video, you will see that when we came to film that the shelter had been knocked down and I wonder if this a prophetic picture? I hope and pray that during these troubling times that any ‘come to us mentality’ that still influences our evangelism would finally be broken. May we embrace the truth that God lives in us which means that people can find God in and through us rather than having to go to a building. ‘We are temples of the Holy Spirit’ (1 Cor 6.19, Ephesians 2. 21-22), what does this really mean? Peter never got to build his shelters. Jesus wasn’t willing to be put into lockdown, rather he chose to take God’s healing presence into a hurting world, and this is still his priority. Will we join Jesus in this pouring out rather than trying to bottle the presence of God just for ourselves?
Peter never got to build his shelters. Jesus wasn’t willing to be put into lockdown, rather he chose to take God’s healing presence into a hurting world, and this is still his priority. Will we join Jesus in this pouring out rather than trying to bottle the presence of God just for ourselves?
JOHN GODDARD'S THOUGHT FOR THE DAY 2020 APRIL.23rd
A few thoughts on preaching…One of the stranger things I have been doing during the current COVID-19 lockdown is preaching sermons to my phone in various quiet corners of the house. It’s not quite as bizarre as it sounds, in that they are then uploaded to YouTube and find something of an audience, but it is a very odd experience to be preaching without a congregation. Preaching is a community act; it is an interactive engagement between the preacher and their congregation which also dares to believe that God is also involved – that in the speaking there is also a listening for God, and in the hearing there is a response not simply to the preacher but to the Author of Life.
Of course, that’s on a good day. On a bad day it’s an exercise in desperately trying to say something of help and comfort when everything around you seems distorted and disturbed and you don’t feel adequate to the task and you can’t remember why you thought that anyone would be interested in anything you have to say, and you are puzzled as to why you have given your life to explaining texts from the ancient past. But let’s move on…
I’m sometimes asked how long it takes to write a sermon. This can be a question of genuine interest, or just occasionally something akin to the old ‘you ministers only work one day a week’ chestnut. There was a tradition in some quarters that suggested a minister should spend an hour in the study for every minute in the pulpit, which given that for much of my ministry I have preached twice a Sunday for 25 to 30 minutes would suggest there was nothing else to do! This has not been my experience.
My preferred response to the question ‘how long does it take to write a sermon?’ would be to suggest that my current sermons have taken around 40 years. Everything I have read and heard and done in my life since becoming a Christian at the tender age of 14 (and in the years before that too probably…) feeds into what is spoken in a sermon today.
I started to preach in churches when I was just 16. In my Methodist context, and at the prompting of a visiting preacher, I requested a ‘note to preach’ and was paired up with an experienced Local Preacher, Ron Lomas. Ron was one of my Boys’ Brigade leaders, and during the week worked at the local factory (Ferodo Brake Linings – everyone worked there…) as Commissionaire – a well dressed form of gate security. I learned by following and watching and trying – and I am so grateful to him and to the Chapels back home who coped with a young lad trying his best. They were usually very supportive, even if I did get the occasional piece of advice to get a haircut. They taught me to speak up, and their generosity in listening set me on a course that continues to this day. I even learnt to forgive the occasional look of disappointment when they realised that I was the preacher and not my mother – we are both J. Goddard, and in the days when rural chapels hung the name of the preacher on the board outside some confusion ensued. I remain grateful to those chapels in Chinley, Whitehough, Fernilee, Combs, Bagshaw, Buxworth, WhaleyBridge, White Knowle, Dove Holes, Kettleshulme, and Chapel-en-le-Frith – our Circuit of Methodist churches in our corner of the Derbyshire High Peak.
Since those days I have preached in countless churches around the country, and I have had the privilege of being called to be the Minister of Baptist churches in Wolvercote, Woodstock, Barrow-in-Furness and Saffron Walden. All the people, all the conversations, all the funerals and weddings and baptisms and thanksgivings, all the meals and parties and committees and meetings, and all of my life that has happened away from church – all of it is involved in the writing of a sermon each week.
So, how long does it take to write a sermon? A couple of hours, and the whole of your life.
And how long does it take to hear a sermon? Depending on the preacher anything from 8 minutes to the best part of an hour! Yes, some sermons are that long… I’m told that some Scottish churches used to have an hour glass in the pulpit – the preacher would go up into the pulpit, turn the glass over, and wasn’t allowed to escape until the hour was up. When I was a young preacher I heard a wonderful story, one of those true stories that might not actually have happened, of a young preacher arriving for the first time at a village chapel and being greeted by the Church Steward with the offer of a cup of tea at the end of the service. This seemed like a good idea to the preacher so further instructions were given; ‘When you start to preach you’ll see me place a kettle on the stove. When it starts to boil it’s time to finish!’ A little taken aback, the preacher had the presence of mind to ask how long the kettle took to boil? The response was priceless – ‘Usually 20 minutes, but for some of the preachers we get I only half fill the kettle…’
But rather like writing a sermon, hearing one also requires the whole of your life. You bring to the occasion everything you have lived and experienced, and on a good day you receive strength, patience, challenge and grace for living in the days ahead.
How long does it take to hear a sermon? About 20 minutes, and the whole of your life
JOHN GODDARD'S THOUGHT FOR THE DAY 2020 APRIL.24th
As I was reflecting yesterday on how sermons come to be written, I was reminded of a glorious character from back home in Derbyshire, the late Rev Dr William Simpson, who was known to many as ‘Uncle Willie’ (the title of his affectionate biography by Don Borland, 1995) but to a youngster like me he was always Mr Simpson.
Willie Simpson was a minister in the Congregational tradition who, following a series of fruitful ministries returned home to North Derbyshire in his mid 60s and became minister of the church that meets in the beautiful old Chapel in the shadow of the railway viaducts at Chapel Milton, Chinley Chapel. Some years later, with Mr Simpson well into his 70s they called a new minister, and Willie took on the little Independent Chapel at Brierley Green, Buxworth, just a few yards from his home. As his biographer commented 20 or so years later, aged 96 he had never attempted retirement! He continued to preach well past his 100th birthday and was finally promoted to glory in 2003 aged 104.
Willie Simpson was well loved by the churches and communities of Chapel, Chinley and Buxworth, despite (or because of) some dangerous eccentricities. Whenever Mr Simpson needed to go somewhere he was known for stepping into the road to flag down a passing car. Invariably he got the lift he needed, even if the driver was actually headed in entirely the other direction. The lifts were not all local affairs either, with one story circulating widely about the time he needed to visit someone in hospital in the Midlands, and the driver he flagged down just happened to be going to that part of the world on business! And in case you are worried that he was left stranded there, his return trip was made in the cab of a lorry belonging to one of the local hauliers, against all the rules, but on the assurance that Mr Simpson knew that his boss wouldn’t mind once he heard it was him…
My Uncle John and Aunt Norma became members at Brierley Green, with John using his excellent joinery skills to keep the Chapel maintained, and Norma, after Mr Simpson’s death, taking on responsibility for booking preachers. And so, some years after his death I preached at Brierley Green Chapel and noticed on the hat-stand in the entrance one of Mr Simpson’s old hats. I knew it was one of his, for he was of the generation who would always not only wear a hat, but doff it in greeting, and as such his hats would wear out with constant lifting! This mark of respect for all he met was an important feature of his faith, and reminds me of the story Desmond Tutu tells of his childhood. His mother was in domestic service in South Africa and he was stood waiting with her on the stoep of the Blind Institute in Roodepoort when a tall white man in a black cassock walked past. Tutu was amazed to see this white priest doff his hat to his mother, a mark of respect so unusual that he still speaks of it as a turning point in his life. The man was an Anglican Priest, Trevor Huddleston, and young Desmond was set upon the road to becoming one of the greatest Anglicans of the 20th century.
In 1985 Mr Simpson conducted my Grandma Goddard’s funeral. She hadn’t been a member of his church, being a Primitive Methodist by birth and conviction, but in later life they had been firm friends. I think it was usually a Thursday afternoon that Mr Simpson would walk over from Brierley Green to Silk Hill, often with a few eggs or some freshly picked berries, and he would usually return with a jar of jam, some home baking, or maybe even some of her famous potted meat. I am sure they both enjoyed the company, but there was also another purpose to the afternoon. Mr Simpson would often discuss his next sermon with Grandma, often reading the sermon to her and seeking her thoughts and response. Two long lives lived in faith, sharing their faith together.
Mr Simpson’s sermons apparently followed a very particular structure, delivered carefully and thoughtfully over 20 to 25 minutes from a written script covering 2 sides of A4, and he probably preached well over 7000 in his ministry. But, as his biographer comments quoting Mr Simpson, the real sermon was his life. Faithful and available, to his God and his community.In a world of novelty and innovation we must always find the time and space to treasure the importance of faithfulness for the long haul. We need to be always open to change and grace, but that should not preclude us from hearing the stories of those who lived long in the service of our God; of those who have received their welcome into eternal rest with the words of Jesus, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ (Matthew 25:21)