Sunday, 10th December at 3.00pm

There will be a warm welcome if you are able to join us this Sunday for a service of Lessons and Carols.  Margaret Spence will be our organist on this occasion.

Festive refreshments after the service.

Our next service will be on Sunday 7th January 2018.

Remembrance Sunday 2017

Isaiah 25.1 – 9: Revelation 22.1 – 5

Today, on Remembrance Sunday, we remember the ending of the First World War and reflect with sadness and regret the loss of life in all the wars since then.

It has been a hundred years since Passchendaele and the other battles of the First World War, but their dead speak to us still. The silence of their immaculate white headstones speak volumes. Many still visit them, looking for the graves of relatives, or standing in respectful silence before those bearing the words, ‘unknown soldier’. Words do not matter so much; it’s the sorrow and love bound up in our deeper wordless prayers, that God alone understands.

We all carry the images of war within us, often fed by the poetry of those who died in the First World War, such as Wilfred Owen. The horrific images captured by filmmakers, artists and photographers, scanning acres of mud and treeless landscapes articulate the social catastrophe that is war; articulate the tragedy of the men and women from these islands who were killed then and since, or injured physically and mentally, who carried these scars until they too passed on. The numbers killed and injured may have been less in the Second World War, but the potential for even greater destruction and loss of life remains with us still.

In the 1914-18 war, vast numbers of men and women volunteered for the war effort from all parts of our nation, seemingly bound by a sense of adventure perhaps, or a need to be with one’s mates, or was it to do with a mystical notion of King and Country? My uncle, who fought in the Great War as it became known, was too young to enlist, so lied about his age because he wanted to be part of the war effort.

Whilst the Battle of the Somme has come to represent the epitome of carnage, Passchendaele has come to symbolise a depth of pointlessness. The Battle of Passchendaele or the Third Battle of Ypres, as it is sometimes known, took place on the Western Front, from July to November 1917. The combatants were fighting for control of the ridges south and east of the city of Ypres, and Passchendaele lay on the last ridge east of the city, near a railway junction, which was vital to the supply system of the German Army. The Allied plan was to close the German-controlled railway running through this part of Belgium. Unusually wet weather and the onset of winter exacerbated conditions in the battlefields, while politicians and military leaders argued among themselves about the validity of the plan. The campaign to secure this fragment of land was controversial then and has been argued over ever since.

In our first reading from Isaiah, the specific ruined city the prophet has in mind is unclear, and its identity doesn’t really matter as it has become universal. Historically, we are at the end of the Neo-Assyrian period in the Hebrew story, during the reign of Josiah, in the late 7th century BC. After more than a century of being a vassal to Assyria and paying dearly for the privilege of survival, Judah found itself free. It was nothing to do with its own efforts, since the Babylonians, far away in Mesopotamia, had conquered Assyria.

The passage begins with a hymn of praise to a victorious God. The opening phrases, “you are my God; I will exalt you”, allude to the ancient “Song of Sea” from Exodus, when the Lord led the people out of slavery in Egypt. The image of a divine warrior however is troubling, particularly if read in the context of the Battle of Passchendaele.
But if however Exodus is the model for God’s victory then we need to look at it in a different light. In Exodus, God delivered an oppressed people from an imperial power in Egypt. The divine concern was for the poor and the needy, who needed to be rescued from ruthless taskmasters. And the Lord is portrayed not simply as a victorious king, one who has defeated and replaced human rulers, but as a generous celebrant, providing a feast for his supporters, suggesting a new intimacy between God and humankind.

In our second reading from the Book of Revelation there is more. The victory over death is key. Death has no power over God. Here the river of life is based on a passage from Ezekiel, where the river flows out of God’s temple. In the Book of Revelation’s New Jerusalem there is no temple building, and so the river flows from the throne of God, flows with life from the presence and the ruling power of the Lord of all.

The old serpent has been dispensed with, and the tree of eternal life flourishes among the people again. In Ezekiel, the river was lined with all kinds of trees, but here there is only one, the one that matters, the tree of eternal life denied to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. In Ezekiel’s vision, the leaves were for healing of Israel, but in Revelation they are for the healing of all the nations. Here there is nothing cursed. Salvation is fulfilled in this city paradise. God’s victory over death, enacted centrally in the cross of Jesus Christ has overcome the power of death and evil.

From God comes light; from God comes the tree of salvation; from God’s throne flows the water of life. God is the temple, sanctifying the entire community; and God’s own presence is assured. We know that presence in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. We know that presence when we are baptised, when we approach the communion table, and in the proclamation of the good news. We know that presence dimly reflected in our own imperfect communities. So this text renews hope for our future. Renews hope for a New Jerusalem.

We live in the now and not yet of God’s Kingdom, sustained by the images of Revelation and Isaiah, but we need also to keep the searing images of violence in our sight, to be reflected on in our respectful silence for the fallen. Lest we forget. A new feast, greater than Isaiah’s is laid before us when we approach the communion table, when we glimpse the One who makes all things new, the One who gives us water from the spring of life.

When we are baptised we are called to be disciples on mission, proclaiming by our lives the kingdom of God and the good news of Christ. We keep alive the gifts given to us by grace to bear witness to our faith and to become involved in justice issues, with a desire to relieve poverty and pain, as well as an ecological awareness of our interdependence with all the other creatures on this planet. It takes courage to be a soldier of Christ, to hope in redemption, as but Isaiah says, “This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” Amen.

All Saints Sunday 5 November 2017

Isaiah 65:17 – 25, Hebrews 11:29-12:2

What do you think of when you hear the word ‘saint’? It means ‘holy person’ but then what do we understand by this term? Does it mean someone who is regularly at prayer, a regular churchgoer who presents themselves in a pious way, a ‘holy wullie’ one might be rude to say? The New Testament perspective of a holy person is simply someone who follows Jesus and has been baptised. Paul however goes further and offers another category, heroes of faith. He describes graphically the forms of abuse that these saints of God endured.

But where is God in all this, the God who is both worthy of such loyalty and the one who equips people with faith that hardens their resistance to the enemies of God? And what about the remarkable claim, that for all of their greatness, these saints of faith did not receive what was promised?

All those mentioned in Hebrews 11 Paul says, are worthy of praise. Indeed we can only agree, since in the early church, although some received deliverance in exceptional circumstances, others suffered humiliation, torture and gruesome death. These faithful shared the stress of keeping faith before God’s promise was fulfilled.

In the mix of detailing their suffering Paul however gives us a word of hope. Faith endures. Faith trusts God’s promises even when the present calls those promises into question. Eventually we shall no longer believe, for we shall know. In the meantime, however, we have a race to run. So as athletes for Team Jesus, we need to focus on the coach who encourages us, the pacemaker who runs alongside us. The one who is waiting for us at the finish line urging us on and building our confidence.

And there is something more. When our knees are weak and our breath gasping, when we feel worn out in the journey of faith, wondering whether we can hold on and complete the race, we remember the company we are in. We remember those who have gone before us, and the one who has run this race and who beckons us home.

And what does home look like? Traditionally heaven is the home of “all the saints”. We are all called to be saints and we try to meet this calling by loving God and our neighbour; and confessing our failures. By grace we receive forgiveness, enabling us to enter the glory of God’s kingdom and enjoy a new life, free from pain and death; together with all those we love and in the company of the great Christian heroes and heroines of the past.

All well and good. But I sense that there is something lacking here. An aspect of sainthood that is more than than just the the metrics of human achievement.

The poetic picture that Isaiah presents is one of communal harmony. Here is true peace, the Hebrew word is shalom, which embraces wholeness. Like him we can only speculate on the exact nature of this heavenly place, but we can be reasonably certain that it will be in a different time and space from this universe; a place where there will be room for the immortal souls of all those who have lived on earth.

What Isaiah is emphasising is the mix of peace and wholeness; the deep down joy that we are loved by God. A life lived in happiness in this secure knowledge, that extends all the way to eternity, the place of eternal happiness in the kingdom of God. There indeed we shall celebrate in joy with “all the saints”. Amen.

1st October 2017 – Harvest

Deuteronomy 8.6 – 11: Luke 12.13 – 21

Although I was brought up in a household that was not extravagant with money, as a twenty-something with a salary flowing into my bank account, I had to have a flash car, an account with Austin Reed and later my bite of the electronic Apple become an addiction. OK I have to ‘fess up. I have an iWatch, iPhone, iPod, iPad, iMac and Apple TV.

Marriage didn’t improve matters as we both enjoyed the good life. But our nemesis came in the form of two delightful Afghan ladies we invited to lunch, who were on sabbatical at St Hilda’s College, Oxford. After giving them a tour of our converted granary on three floors, one asked with innocent directness, “Why do you have so many things?” My wife and I exchanged glances that said, “Thank goodness we didn’t show them the attic.”

It took me a while to shake off the culture of an economy that pursues owning and consuming over doing and being. My attic is now half-empty rather than half-full. Taking an interest in ecology has speeded up this learning process, the problems of climate change, water, soil and air pollution have heightened my awareness of the consequences our consumerist culture. In short, the landscape has taught me important things about the sufficiency of enough.

In the parable of the farmer we heard this monologue: “What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?” Then he said, “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods.” [Luke 12.18]

On the surface, this parable is not about greed. On the surface. He seems surprised by his good fortune and makes what appears to be reasonable plans to reap the abundance of the harvest. A sensible chap, one might say. What is wrong with building larger barns to store away a bumper harvest? After all, he might have to face a leaner one tomorrow.

But his language betrays him. The repeated “I” and “my” reveals a preoccupation with self. He doesn’t give a second thought to sharing his abundance with others. His land has been productive, he has more grain and goods in storage than he could ever hope to use, yet he expresses no sense of gratitude to God, or to the workers who have helped him plough the fields, sow the crop and take in the harvest and seems to have no thought of sharing it with others. His foolishness is laid bare because he believes that by his wealth he can secure his life in the future: “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” [Luke 12.19]

We may be less concerned about filling our barns with grain; but we do have concerns about accumulating money, not too much perhaps, but enough to protect ourselves in the future. Yet money is of no value in itself; it only has value when it can be translated into other things.

There’s a lively economic debate about the claim that the pursuit of growth brings happiness. In economic terms it is probably true, but psychologically I think we need to be clear about what kind of ‘happiness’ we are talking about. On the one hand, global economic growth impacted beneficially on everyday life for many on this planet, but happiness is not a commodity we can demand.

For those who have yet to experience the material security of good fortune, life is fraught with uncertainty and insecurity. 4 billion of the world’s 7 billion do not have enough. At least 2 billion do not have enough to eat, do not have adequate housing, and are unable to educate their children, or afford adequate healthcare. Today there are many billions who are “just about managing”.

No one is untouched by concerns about money, but a corrosive effect on our society is an obsession with accumulating money. The corrosive effect is that while some are content to admire good fortune, others covet that success. We covet much, we want things, we demand things; and in that innate selfishness, we resent those who have what we want, or who we perceive as being better off than ourselves. The rich fascinate us, glossy magazines spill out the intimate details of their lives, the developing cult of the celebrity.

Politicians boast about how they can deliver growth because they know that a strong economy delivers votes. But pare away at the gloss of global capitalism and something very nasty lies underneath; think of the corporate behaviour of Uber and Ryanair, for example. Many people find themselves in a terrible uncertainty and instability that is developing into a nastiness permeating our politics; permeating our media.

We celebrate our technological advances, and our growth in education and cultural achievement, and rightly so, yet the human race as a whole remains contingent, vulnerable, fragile. Witness the impact of the hurricanes on the people of the Caribbean and other climate stressed parts of the world.

Managing a global economy is of course highly complex. But in essence it is quite simple. Either we use our resources as efficiently as possible, sharing them fairly between people and allowing people as much self-determination as possible. Or we focus single-mindedly on growth, with the assumption that individual liberty will develop a sense of self-discipline, perhaps guided by the ‘Protestant work ethic’ and aided, in that much misused phrase, by ’the invisible hand of the market’.

Adam Smith, the Scottish philosopher wrote his famous book known simply “The Wealth of Nations” mentions this several times. Smith’s basic argument was that humankind’s natural tendency toward self-interest results in prosperity. By giving everyone freedom to produce and exchange goods as they pleased and opening all markets to competition, people’s natural self-interest would bring about universal prosperity. But Smith is sometimes wilfully misunderstood, since he also believed in an active role for government, in creating the rules and regulations of society. He wanted people to practice thrift, work hard but to be fully conscious of the need for compassion and community.

We live in the grace of an extraordinary beautiful and diverse world; in the ebb and flow of life that delights its Creator. It is not that God doesn’t want us to save for retirement or future needs. It is not that God doesn’t want us to “eat, drink, and be merry” and enjoy what God has given us. We know from the Gospels that Jesus spent time eating and drinking with people and enjoying life.

But Jesus was very clear about where his real security lay and he warns, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” [Luke 12.15]. Our lives and possessions are not our own. They belong to God. We are merely stewards of them, for the time God has given us on this earth.

The true value of money lies in how we invest it. True growth lies in investing our lives with the gifts that God has given us and, most importantly, investing those gifts in the lives of our neighbour. Ultimately, the fruits of our harvest should be about how we orient our desires towards God’s mission to bless and redeem the world. Amen.

Sunday, 1st October – Harvest

At our Harvest Service we shall be celebrating the fruits of God’s earth and giving thanks for all the good things that God provides; and for the safe gathering in of the harvest.

If you would like to contribute to our harvest display of suitable food, that will be passed on to Grampian Women’s Aid, please leave them in the porch or bring them on Saturday 30th September in the morning when the church will be open.

Please stay for refreshments after the service.

Any queries, please phone Gill Marshall: 01651 842828

3 September 2017 – Moses and the burning bush [Exodus 3.1 – 15]

I had a ‘burning bush’ experience some years ago. I was at a day retreat in East Berkshire and I went for a walk in the countryside. The path took me alongside paddocks for racehorses and rare breeds of sheep. Each field was manicured with neatly clipped hedges until I rounded a bend, and to my astonishment, was a stretch of ancient hedgerow.

I guess its age was about 200 years, judging by the mature trees and the presence of every species of hedgerow plant that I recognised. Each twig was laden with autumn fruits, which shone in the sunshine as if they had been freshly polished, in every shade of the red spectrum through to purple. By its colour, the hedgerow appeared to be on fire. What added to this impression was the movement of the many gaudy butterflies, and all kinds of bees, wasps, hornets and flies, flickering like flames of fire.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

As I gazed at this wonder of nature, I sensed that I was not alone. Although I did not hear a voice demanding that I remove my shoes, nevertheless there was a voice in my head, that seemed to be engaging me in dialogue. The external landscape had invaded the interior landscape of my mind.

I admit that I had been feeling very unsettled at the time. I had recently retired, and had sensed that God was calling me to serve in a new way. Exactly what, I had difficulty discerning, but the fragile beauty of this rare ancient hedgerow, seemingly on fire, seared my heart, and in my mind I felt was urging me to make a bold change in my life.

That moment condensed a vigorous debate about the damage we were doing to God’s creation and I decided that the politics and theology academic study I was engaged in should take on an ecological dimension. It was the start of a new journey for me, after 40 years in the ‘wilderness’ of England, to where I am standing now.

What had been revealed to Moses was a sacred space, identified as the soil itself, which was holy, and out of which a miraculous bush had grown, nourished by God and from which God spoke. When Moses turned and gazed on the bush, he discovered the miracle of God’s presence, within a fire that blazed but did not consume the bush. When Moses removed his sandals, he accepted the claim that God was making upon him.

God called him to forsake the way of life that had protected him from Egyptian justice. He had killed an Egyptian. As he felt the holy earth between his toes, a connection was made between the fire of the bush and the fire that would be kindled in his heart until he was able to lead his people out of slavery.

Paul engages us in a discussion about what is meant by ‘living sacrifice’[Romans 12.9 – end]. He says that we should not conform passively to this world. As followers of Christ we are called to be holy and we re-affirm this discipleship in our regular worship. It means we are to value hardships and live through them in hope, opening ourselves to God’s love, expressed through Christ, even while experiencing these hardships.

In the West, we live in a culture that inundates us with advertising designed to keep us conformed to this world. The marketing industry spends billions annually on advertising, flooding our screens, newspapers, billboards, and invading our interaction on social media. The American theologian Walter Brueggemann argues that, “…life does not consist in frantic production and consumption that reduces everyone else to a threat and competitor.” [Sabbath as Resistance, 2014]

So not being conformed to this world is a big demand. The world will fight at every stage, with the power and determination of the Egyptians pursuing Moses and his people as they escaped from slavery. They want us to look the other way rather than glimpse the injustice, hatred, oppression, immorality, greed, and violence that surround us. So it will take transformation, renewal of the mind, to detach ourselves from the world’s attempts to occupy us with things that do not matter.

Most people care about their potential futures, and the future of their children and grandchildren. But the storm clouds are already here, gathering over parts of the world, as we are witnessing with the scenes of catastrophic flooding in America, the Indian sub-continent and the Far East. In the longer term, scientists expect that a “turbocharged water cycle” fed by global warming will lead to more of these extreme rainfall events that are causing these historic floods. Humans now dominate the planet so heavily that we are pushing wild animals and plants into oblivion. We use more than half of the world’s land for our food, cities, roads and mining; we use more than 40% of the planet’s productive capacity; and we control three-quarters of all fresh water.

The picture is an alarming one but as Brueggemann goes on to say, “God has complete confidence in the fruit-bearing, blessing-generating processes of creation that have been instituted. God exhibits no anxiety about the life-giving capacity of creation. God knows the world will hold, the plants will perform, and the birds and fish and beast of the field will prosper. Humankind will govern the earth in a generative way. All will be well, and all manner of things will be well.”

Why this optimism? Because we have been made in the image of God, we know when to take a Sabbath rest; we know when enough is enough. Brueggemann goes on to say “…the celebration of Sabbath is an act of both resistance and alternative. It is resistance because it is a visible insistence that our lives are not defined by the production and consumption of commodity goods.” If we are prepared to live out the image of God then, in so doing, we put God first. God has confidence in us to do this, just as he had confidence in Moses to lead God’s people out of slavery in Egypt.

We may try to argue like Moses that we do not have the gifts and skills for the task, but the different gifts we have been given in order to make that happen vary “according to the grace given to us”, as Paul says. This is grace as the transforming power of God, the renewing of our minds, the living offering. “I will be with you,” God says to Moses. This should be sufficient assurance that should lead us into a new way of living and point us toward a good, acceptable, and sustainable future. Yes, we may have to spend sometime in the wilderness but, “All will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” Amen.

6 August 2017 Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord

Exodus 34:29 – 35
2 Corinthians 3.7 – 18

If you had attended a morning service today and heard Luke’s Gospel account of the transfiguration of Our Lord, you will know that when Jesus led the disciples up a mountain they dozed of presumably because of the exertion. When they wake they see the glorified Jesus in dazzlingly white clothes; and the appearance of his face has changed. Moses and Elijah are with him and they are terrified.

In our first reading this afternoon, Israelites are standing in awe of God’s glory reflected in the shining face of Moses as he comes down from Sinai with a new set of tablets of stone bearing the ten commandments carved on them. Just as light shines from God’s face as a source of blessing and peace, so the light shining from Moses’ face is a signal of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness to Israel; giving the Israelites a second chance despite the fact that until now they had been worshipping a golden calf made by Moses’ brother Aaron.

Today we proclaim with confidence the gracious character of God, who offers us a second chance by renewing the covenant with us; and being present in our community. We, in turn, can reflect how God’s light shines through us, through our actions and the way we live our lives as ordinary people of faith; making God’s transforming presence known here and where we live.

Given the importance of Moses’ shining face, the purpose of the ‘veil’ is unclear. The Hebrew word only appears only here, so when the Israelites were quaking in their sandals at Moses’ appearance, presumably because they had a guilty conscience, so the veil on Moses’ face may have been some kind of protection and assurance of God’s grace.

The veil was not so general in ancient as in modern times, when it has tended to become associated with the Islamic tradition. Among the Jews of the New Testament age it was customary for women to cover their heads, not necessarily their faces, when engaged in public worship.

Today’s bridal veil has a number of symbolic meanings but in a Christian context it reminds us of the temple veil which was torn in two when Christ died on the cross. The removing of the veil took away the separation between us and God, giving believers access to the very presence of God. Since Christian marriage is a picture of the union between Christ and the church, we see a reflection of this relationship with the lifting of the bridal veil.

In the passage from Corinthians, Paul takes this story of Moses’ veil in reference to the old covenant which is set aside in Christ. Paul is making the claim that the old covenant, the old “good news,” if you like, cannot be properly understood and accepted until the veil is removed. Then with faces unveiled we will finally know the glory of God.

It would be wrong to read some of of Paul’s words as an outright rejection of the Old Testament. Paul does not reject the Old Testament. He does however argue for a particular reading of it, one that is possible only in the Spirit. Paul is advocating an unveiling of the heart in relationship to the gospel. This is his goal. If we turn to the Lord, the veil is removed.

The church in Corinth was proving a great heartache to the apostle. Yet, the apostle is certain that the church’s continued existence, in spite of itself, is a sign that God is at work within it. God has called the Corinthians to be God’s church, and God is actively at work transforming the believers.

Paul is filled with a hope that is firmly planted in God. Paul does not dispute that the written code was from God and conveyed God’s glory, but that glory was fleeting. The shining of Moses’ face came and went. Instead of tablets of stone, Paul writes of something inscribed on our hearts. His logic is simple. If something as holy as the law could lead to a fleeting transformation of Moses’ face, then surely God’s work through Christ can lead to permanent transformation in all of us.

Christ has removed the veil that conceals God’s transformative glory. The veil is a huge obstacle. For Paul, Christ’s removal of the veil cannot help but be a transformative experience. Seeing the glory of the Lord changes everything because we are no longer separated from the glory of God by Moses’ face, or by the tabernacle, or by the veil in the Temple.

Separation from loved ones is one of the hardest things in life. Whether the separation comes from death, or distance, or a breakdown in a relationship, it is something we all experience, sooner or later. Sometimes even faithful Christians feel separated from God. In any congregation, at any given time, there are people for whom separation, and the desire for re-union, is the defining issue in their lives.
People whose lives are defined by separation yearn for a sense of belonging.

They wonder if they will ever have a place with God and other people. They live as orphans, aliens, exiles, or outcasts. Their need is for God to ‘tear the veil’ of separation, and to reveal that a person does indeed belong – to God and to a community of faith. This is what Jesus can do for them. For them, salvation means coming home, being let into God’s presence. It means being in harmony with God at long last. Amen.

Sunday, 2 July at 3.00pm

This Sunday we are delighted to welcome a return visit of some members of the choir from St Andrew’s Cathedral in Aberdeen who will lead us in a traditional  Choral Evensong.

Please join us on this special occasion and stay for refreshments after the service.


Sunday, 11th June

Taken at our annual outing. Enjoying a sunny afternoon in the walled garden at Fyvie Castle after lunch in the castle.  No umbrellas were needed!

From top left: Gillian, Dilly, Stephen, Doreen, Richard, Esther and Pam

Sunday, 4 June 2017

Psalm 104: 23-35, 1 Corinthians 12.3b – 13, John 7.37 – 39

The Holy Spirit makes it possible for disciples of Christ to be who Jesus wants us to be, which is a light to the world. The Holy Spirit empowers us as individuals, and the Church as a body of disciples, to be this prophetic voice.

The idea of the Holy Spirit is not new in the Bible. The breath of God moved over the waters of chaos and brought the cosmos into being. (Genesis 1.2) Psalm 104 refers to this in v.30 “When you send forth your spirit, they are created; and you renew the face of the ground.” And in the Book of Job, it says, ”But truly it is the spirit in a mortal, the breath of the Almighty, that makes for understanding.”(Job 32:8)

The Holy Spirit is the fulfilment of the promises of God and Jesus Christ, which are now openly given to all of us as gifts so that we become the Spirit-filled disciples of the Kingdom.

Paul refers to the various gifts we have been given by the Spirit. Some of us are blessed with wisdom; some can understand complex issues and explain them in simple terms that we can all understand; some by their sheer energy and enthusiasm can bring about many good things in our society even if they have not been blessed by these other gifts.

But there can be problems with the way that we use the gifts of the Spirit.

When as Christians we exercise our prophetic voice we may do this in a number of ways. Some try to do it spiritually, but this can be a problem when it is done so carefully, so quietly, and so meekly that they are never properly heard.

Conversely, there are some shrill voices who speak dismissively about the ‘other’ or even ‘enemies of the people’ whilst at the same time playing to the faith gallery as the ‘good guys’.

Others may apply their voices in intellectual, abstract ways that are lacking in practicality. So for most of the time, we have to try to strike a balance, find a compromise, deal with things sensibly and realistically.

Pragmatism is a particular gift when applied to achieving results.

There may be occasions when the soft option is tempting to keep the peace; when the small gain may attract a lustre that suggests this is the only effective solution. However, we should not feel uncomfortable, when in the end we have to say something in the name of integrity when we have to say something which is God’s challenge to our modern society.

We may squabble among ourselves, and often we do but are one in Christ, whether we agree with each other or not. We are one in Christ whether we like one another or not. God desired unity with us so much that God became one of us. That is the mystery of the incarnation. And in that moment, we were drawn into the oneness of God, the Creator, the Son, and the Spirit. It is with God’s help through the Holy Spirit that we live into that oneness.

Today is Pentecost and Jesus reigns in heaven.

The Holy Spirit lives in us. We are called to celebrate a spirit filled life, rooted in love. The spirit of Pentecost promotes unity and prompts us to resist the forces of division.

We are living through a time in which there are so many challenges in our world, a time in which the prophetic voice of the church needs to be heard. There is growing disillusionment with politics, people are feeling alienated, and populist politics is on the rise. And what is often referred to as the public square, or political arena, has taken on a new virtual dimension, the world of social media, with its dark arts of ‘fake news’ and ‘alternative facts’.

But then, “What’s new?’ one might ask, when two thousand years ago, Truth was put on trial and judged by people who were devoted to lies.

Politics, in its broadest sense, is what we understand to be the way that we should live and organise ourselves in the community to preserve order; and bring about responsible management of God’s creation.

This is our calling as a people of God.

As individuals, we are called to play our fullest part in the political life of the world; whereas the church is limited to organising itself as a servant member of the community, be that at a local, national or international level.

So what does that mean for us politically?

God with us is not a political promise to provide a balanced budget over the next decade, or a fully serviceable NHS, or an education system worthy of our children’s future. God with us is to be present now with those in poverty, the disadvantaged, the forgotten and the oppressed. As we sang in our hymn by John Bell, ‘Jesus Christ is raging in the streets, where injustice spirals and real hope retreats’.

We have a General Election that will take place on Thursday. We must choose a candidate to represent us in Westminster and our choice will significantly affect our neighbours near and far.
It’s a big responsibility. We may seek to place all the blame for societal ills on political leaders but our choices, be they for political, economic, or ideological reasons, matter.

Our voices as people count: as does our engagement or lack of political engagement. We might hope that our political leaders will “execute justice and righteousness,” in the United Kingdom for the next five years. But it’s the choices that we make that will impact on whether issues of justice and righteousness prevail.

May we, therefore, rejoice in the assurance that Christ is with us, and the Holy Spirit will be our advocate when we place our cross on the ballot paper. Amen.