Dear Friends,

One of the strange things I do is write “hello” a lot as I sit thinking or when I just sit (!). I’ve done it since Primary School. You’ll still find “hello” written in all sorts of places like my bible, my notes for a sermon or any old bit of paper lying around. Sometimes even on my hand. I should probably seek counselling about it! But it’s more fun to keep writing and ponder what a counsellor might say.

Perhaps I’m like Karen Blixen. In the film ‘Out of Africa’, when her husband complains about a lack lustre goodbye kiss she says “I’m better at hello”. Meryl Streep, who plays the Danish Karen Blixen, fills the words with moody promise.

Hello is so full of possibilities, new beginnings. But it can be scary too. A new job, a new situation. New people. Will we cope? Will we get on with the in-laws, or new neighbours?

Goodbye is the end of things. And yet many goodbyes are good! How many people have said something like: “I love it when my grandchildren come to see us. I also love it when they go!” We’re often glad to receive visitors and glad when they go as well! Serious things come and go – problems get resolved, and we move on to a better place.

So our lives are full of hellos and goodbyes. Some, like when people come to visit, have a clear beginning and end. Other hellos are much more long-term – like when a baby is born. So hello to Elspeth, and Eliza and at least two more to come soon to parents in our congregation. And, of course, goodbyes can be very permanent too, or seem to be, as when someone dies.

As someone about to be 60 (I know you can’t believe it, but it’s true), there are many things I need to say goodbye to. I’m never going to play cricket for Ireland. I’ll never run faster than either of my sons again. There are still so many things I’d like to do, but I’ll have to make some hard choices or none of them will get done….

But however old we are, a significant event in our lives is an opportunity to stop and reflect on some basic questions like: where next? What does God want me to do in this next chapter of my life? We move on and God continues alongside us, inviting us to continually reshape our lives in response to his guiding and empowering Spirit. “Keep in step with the Spirit” advises St Paul (Letter to the Galatians 5:25).

We are soon to say goodbye to Jimmy Lawrence, our curate. It doesn’t seem long since we first said hello. We’ll miss his lively, encouraging presence among us. We’ll miss his thoughtful sermons. We’re grateful for all he’s given us. He has formed us, and we have formed him, and Hannah. We are the better for Jimmy and Hannah having been with us. And we’re delighted for them that they can actually live together now and work out the details of their next step.

To Jimmy and Hannah, and to all of us, on the ever changing path of life, with all its hellos and goodbyes, there is perhaps no better advice than “Keep in step with the Spirit”. Our living loving God is always with us and will never desert us. “The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want” (Psalm 23). Alleluia!

Every blessing

Graham

Dear Friends,

I’m writing in the aftermath of the fire that almost destroyed Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris. I was deeply moved by the scenes on television – the harrowing pictures of the fire, and the responses of Parisians as they gathered and watched and grieved and prayed.

We’re used to hearing that the Church is not the building, but the Church is the people. That is true, but a building such as Notre-Dame, or even Otley Parish Church, comes to represent the history of the people over centuries.

It was extraordinary how everything changed when news came that the basic structure of the cathedral was sound, and confidence was expressed that it could be rebuilt. It would rise again. Many have commented on the timing of the fire in Holy Week, and how it resonates with the grief and pain that we feel with Christ as he journeys towards the cross. And with the hope of resurrection.

Trust in his Father’s purposes, and the hope of resurrection, undoubtedly sustained Jesus through his pain and suffering. The resurrection is his personal vindication. For us who know the story, we read it knowing he will rise from the dead, and yet his suffering is almost unbearable to read. We feel in a human way for the betrayed Jesus, the one smeared with lies and half-truths as the fickle crowds are manipulated against him. 

But we believe much more has been achieved than Jesus’ personal vindication. The bigger story is that Jesus’ suffering was the means of overcoming sin and death – the two big barriers to God’s kingdom coming, when all creation is healed and reconciled to God.

There is no easy explanation for any suffering, let alone the appalling pain we know has been, and is being, endured by many in our world. But we can trust that somehow it is unavoidable, as Christ’s suffering is: a result of the cosmic struggle against evil, injustice and all that stands against God’s good purposes for the world. We have seen the heart of God in Jesus, and so we know that suffering here “wrings with pain the heart of God”, but darkness and evil must have its hour before it is overcome (Luke 22:53).

Parisians now live in the hope and trust that Notre-Dame will rise again. Christians live in the hope of the resurrection. For those who suffer today, the God we meet in Christ knows all about suffering. Jesus’ experiences forsakenness as he cries from the cross, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”

The burning of Notre-Dame Cathedral is causing much heart-searching about why it it so significant to a country so militantly secular. Our hope is that many will be led to recognise they are part of a bigger story, a story that cannot be told in bricks and mortar but only by connecting to God who is the foundation of everything.

Emmanuel Macron, the French president, vowed to rebuild the cathedral in five years and make it better, more beautiful. The foundations and walls appear to be secure so the inside and roof can be replaced, and the cathedral will rise again. This seems to me to be powerfully symbolic for the wider Church. The Church built on the foundation of Jesus Christ. St Paul writes in his first letter to the Corinthians, chapter three:

¹⁰ By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care. ¹¹ For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. ¹² If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, ¹³ their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. ¹⁴ If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. ¹⁵ If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved – even though only as one escaping through the flames.

¹⁶ Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives among you? ¹⁷ If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person; for God’s temple is sacred, and you together are that temple.

The foundation must always be Jesus Christ. The walls stand for the essential truths of the Gospel that do not change from generation to generation. But on this foundation, and within these Gospel walls, the Church can be rebuilt, and needs to be rebuilt, for each generation. 

Across the world we know that the Church works differently in different cultures. And our cultures change over time. Culture is “the way we do things here”. And the way we do things changes. 

It’s not always easy to discern what in the Church is cultural and can change and what is eternal and must not change. But that is our task as we seek new ways to engage people with the Gospel. 

The Lord is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

With love,

Graham

Dear Friends,

There’s a short story by Liam O’Flaherty called ‘The Sniper.’ It is set in the Irish civil war in 1922. A young sniper is on the rooftops in the centre of Dublin. After shooting an enemy soldier and an old woman who is an informer, he himself is seen and wounded by an enemy sniper from a rooftop across the street. 

After bandaging his wound he knows he has to get off the roof quickly or he will be caught. He forms a desperate plan, lifting his cap on his bayonet above the parapet and when the enemy sniper shoots through his hat, he allows his cap and the rifle to fall down the roof into the street. 

The enemy sniper thinks he has killed him and stands up from behind a chimney pot with his head silhouetted against the evening sky. The wounded young sniper then takes aim with his revolver and shoots the man on the rooftop across the street. He utters a cry of joy as his enemy staggers and tumbles down the roof and hits the street below with a dull thud.

He begins to shake, shuddering with revulsion and remorse, cursing the war – but is quickly fired up again by whiskey from his flask. He descends to the street and runs through a burst of gunfire to take a quick look at the dead soldier who is lying face down. As he turns the body over he finds he is looking into his brother’s face.

I was deeply moved by this story when I first heard it summarised in a lecture on Irish Literature nearly 40 years ago. It speaks to so many situations today: the ‘enemy’ is your brother.

Jesus is recorded as saying: “whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” (Matthew 12:50) This encourages us to rethink what we mean by ‘family’. For a Christian, it is all part of what we call repentance.

Repentance is changing our thinking, our attitude, our heart. That’s the meaning of the Greek word ‘metanoia’ which is translated ‘repentance’ in the bible. It’s God who can change our thinking, our attitudes and our heart to be more like his.

So God moves in our hearts to help us see a brother or a sister in every person, and to help us create, in our churches, families where everyone has a place at the table. Even, and especially, people who are different to us. Even, and especially, people who are difficult. It isn’t easy, but it is our especial challenge. 

It occurs to me that someone might think (on the basis of Matthew 12:50), that we only have to accept into our family those who do God’s will. I think that would be a misinterpretation. Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son in Luke’s Gospel (chapter 15) makes it clear to me that even the person who DOESN’T do the will of God the Father is my brother or sister. Like the elder brother in that story, I can refuse to accept someone as my brother or sister, but then it is me not doing the will of God my Father.

For two weeks we have been privileged to host the Night Shelter for the West Yorkshire Destitute Asylum-seekers Network. The 10 young men we hosted are from many countries, where life is very different and problematic. Our hearts go out to them as they travel on to their next hosting church, hoping eventually to be allowed to settle in this country. It was wonderful to have so many people from churches and the wider community offering their help in so many ways. It wasn’t compassion alone that motivated us. God is a Father to them. They are family.

It’s certainly not easy to work out how to live with (ultimately) every member of the human race as family. Nor is it easy to work out how to love your neighbour (i.e. anyone!) as yourself. But this is the challenge God lovingly, and determinedly, sets us. 

With my love and prayers

Graham

Dear Friends,

Most of you will remember Richard. Maybe not his name, but probably his face. Richard came to Otley in 2017 and until a few months ago he was to be seen regularly on Kirkgate during the day. At night he slept in a tent in all weathers. 

For many, he was the first homeless person they had engaged with. Until first Darren and then Richard arrived, we’d only known homeless people stay for short periods. Not much chance to get to know them.

But lots of people got to know Richard a bit. He was chatty, undemanding, surprisingly optimistic and positive for someone ‘on the streets’. He was intelligent, well-read and able to talk about many subjects. He had a university degree.

Richard was eventually given a flat in Otley but then he went back to his home area of Brighouse. Sadly, we heard recently that he had died in hospital and had his funeral in Brighouse at the end of January.

A few days ago, at short notice, 35 people gathered in our church to remember Richard. Jimmy led a gentle service as we lit a candle, shared simple memories, read from the Bible and joined in prayers. For 15 minutes before we began, Rob tolled the Church.

The gathering of people and the tolling of the bell said that Richard mattered – in a sense proclaimed to Otley that Richard mattered. Many people had taken Richard to their hearts and did many small acts of kindness for him. Brought him food. Stopped to talk. Offered him clothes or a sleeping bag. Treated him as a normal human being. Recognised it as a privilege to be able to assist him.

People who helped Richard found that it wasn’t a one-way street – Richard gave them something in return. He treated them as if they mattered. He told some of his own story. He asked about their story. He shared his infectious optimism. He helped people engage with a real experience of homelessness not some prejudiced caricature. And their life was enriched by meeting him. 

Richard was a ‘normal’ kind person whose life was blighted by some bad luck, some bad choices and some difficult relationships. It could have been any of us sitting outside Scope on Kirkgate.

Mostly, Otley folk have been kind and helpful to Richard, caring and concerned; a credit to our community. Sadly, a few have been unpleasant and treated him like he was something less than a person. Richard said he liked being in Otley. 

In some ways, Richard holds up a mirror to us. His issues are personal to him but also the result of how we do things collectively, how resources are allocated in our society, how much support the troubled and vulnerable get.

The simple truth is that Richard mattered. His life mattered as much as any other. As well as being appreciated by us, he was and is of infinite value to his heavenly Father. So are you as you read this, whether you are feeling successful and fulfilled or useless.

During Lent, we will be inviting everyone to join a group to participate in the ‘SHAPEcourse’. It’s about discovering your shape by looking at five qualities you embody – your Spiritual gifts, your Heart, your Abilities, your Personality and your Experience.

Everybody matters and everybody has a contribution to make and gifts to share. Don’t undervalue yourself. There is a you-shaped piece of puzzle to fill a you-shaped part in the picture – and only you can fill it. 

There is (surprise surprise) a place for everyone, with Christ at the centre.

Your shape will change and vary through time, so it’s a good thing, every now and then, to pause and reflect on who we are becoming and how we fit in. And no better time to do that than as we start the journey of Lent and allow ourselves to be shaped afresh by God who walks with us through the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus.

Love,

Graham

Dear Friends,

I wonder if you know the story in the bible about Lot’s wife? With her husband and children she was rescued from the town of Sodom, and told not to look back as Sodom and Gomorrah were being destroyed. But she did look back and was turned into a pillar of salt. A Sunday school teacher was telling the children this (rather horrific!) story and one child piped up: “My mum was driving to Sainsburys yesterday and she turned into a tree!”

Jokes and scary bible stories aside, we do well to look back. Soren Kierkegaard, the Danish philosopher, said: “Life can only be understood backwards but it must be lived forwards.”

Towards the end of the day is a great time to spend a few minutes reflecting on the day, replaying the parts we can remember. I often understand things better looking back, playing the scenes over in my mind, and sometimes notice things I haven’t noticed during the day.

I might recall that Gerald was unusually preoccupied when we met, or wonder why Jenny wasn’t at her desk, or suddenly realise what I’d said to Chris on the phone that made him so frosty. It’s a good thing to do as a regular way of prayer – reflecting on the day with God, thanking him, asking help, praying for people I’ve met and noting tasks to do – like saying sorry!

It’s the same only bigger looking back on a year. Reflecting on what I’ve made time for, what or who I’ve neglected, how much holiday or retreat time I’ve taken, how much I’m drinking, how much I’ve given to charity – all in all a sort of (gentle!) audit.

And it’s the looking back, the real experience of life, that helps us look forward and know we can live a bit differently, think about changing jobs, spend more time with children, go to the gym, use up less of the planet’s resources…

We are constantly having to ‘move on’. We’re growing up, leaving school, learning to live independently, in a new job, a new relationship, we’ve become parents (again), we’re learning to live with limited mobility or without a loved one by our side. Life always comes as a package, some of which we shape and some of which simply happens to us.

I think experience teaches us (mostly!) that we are far stronger than we think we are; we cope with situations that we would have found it hard to contemplate. We have deep resources. God has given us deep resources, not least that he walks alongside us and gives us one another.

I think experience teaches us that we can embrace the new things, and the gradually changing things, in life, with hope and trust in the good purposes of God. Our package of life will contain some hard things, and will bring us into some seriously hard times, but St Paul gives some good advice to the Christians in Philippi:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, and the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Paul goes on to urge us to fill our minds with whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable… That is probably the best way to a happy new year for each of us and the people who live with us.

As Dag Hammarskjold famously said: “For all that has been – thanks. For all that will be – yes.”

With love,

Graham

Dear Friends

Advent is not just a time of waiting for Christmas, it is a time of preparation so we can be ready in our hearts and minds and spirits to celebrate the coming of God as a human being into our world.

But we are not good at waiting! The people of Sudan and Uganda are much better at waiting than we are in this part of the world. That is perhaps because there is much waiting to be done there!

It’s not a joyless waiting, in spite of the difficulties. Singing and dancing, smiling and laughter, coming together to celebrate and share food, are all things that come naturally to the Ugandans and Sudanese whom I know. For all our plenty we celebrate a lot less and complain a lot more!

For those who have the resources here, almost everything can be had immediately, next day delivery. Christmas can be the culmination of a period of indulgence rather than abstinence.

Any yet, like it or not, understand it or not, the world is waiting, waiting, waiting for an end to darkness and chaos. It waited a very long time for Jesus to come the first time. We’ve only waited 2,000 years so far for Jesus to come back. But he will. God is making us wait for the new heavens and the new earth. Advent is a time to remember that all of creation is waiting, with a hope that is steadfast and certain. And a time to remember (and reach out to help) those whose waiting is particularly dark and painful.

Amidst our plenty there is still real poverty, isolation and mental torment right on our doorstep. We reflect on these things NOT to limit our joy or our celebration, but to make it more real and expand it to include more people. We offer back to God our time and our prayers and our money so more people can know they are blessed this Christmas.

In Advent, we do a lot of publicity about Christmas services and events. It’s amazing how much publicity (not ours obviously!) either omits basic details (such as the time of an event) or makes them hard to read because they are too small or the poster is cluttered or the words blend in with the background.

At our recent Prayer Day Bishop Helen-Ann of Ripon reminded us that from ancient times Jewish scholars have described scripture as written with BLACK fire and WHITE fire. The BLACK fire is the actual words on the page or scroll written in black ink. The WHITE fire is the spaces behind and in between which give a context, a background against which the words are read and understood.

There’s much to be reflected on in this analogy, but one thought came strongly to me at the Advent Day of Prayer. We, individually and together, are the background against which the ‘Word made flesh’ Jesus Christ is seen in our town.

So at Christmas many people hear the reading of scripture, see nativity plays and join in the singing of carols. Through this they may see Jesus. They do that in a context, against a background. We are that background. Does who we are help people to see Jesus and the true meaning of Christmas? Or do we distract from the main message by not framing the word clearly. Maybe we put in too many other words and they distract from the Word himself.

The BLACK letters of scripture stand out because they are clear against a WHITE background. To be this kind of background we need to “cast away the works of darkness and put on the armour of light”(from the Advent Sunday collect). That’s about using some of our waiting time to let God shape and mould us more into the people he wants us to be – more loving, more resistant to the selfish desires that come from without and within.

May we all use the waiting, reflecting time of Advent to be a better background against which Jesus can be seen!

And when it does come, have a wonder-filled Christmas!

With love

Graham

Dear Friends,

Janet and I brought our son Tim to Bath last week for the start of his second year. We drove to Sainsbury’s to do some shopping.

Like they do in Otley, Sainsbury’s have a camera which records your car’s number plate as you enter the store’s car park. You have 90 minutes allowed before you become liable to a fine for staying too long.

We were in a queue of cars moving very slowly. I let the car ahead drive on and watched its number plate appear on the screen overhead. Once it was through I accelerated a bit so that I passed quickly past the camera’s view. Our car’s number plate did not show on the screen. We watched the car behind us pass through and its number appeared as normal. We had got through undetected!

I’m not telling you this so you can try it out on the camera as you enter the Otley Sainsbury’s! It made me think about getting in under the radar. About doing something and not being noticed.

At the time I was thinking about the sermon for last Sunday from Mark 9. The disciples are travelling with Jesus and arguing about who is the greatest among them. They must have been confident he was out of earshot. I imagine it was a rolling conversation – a recurring thread in many conversations throughout the day, with plenty of banter. At the end of the day in Peter’s house, there is silence as Jesus asks them what they were discussing on the road. But of course he knows. He always seems to know.

A favourite Psalm which I often reflect on is Psalm 139 which begins:
“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me.”

The psalm speaks of God’s intimate knowledge of each one of us from the moment of our conception, and every moment of every day. So verse 2:
“You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.”
There’s no getting under God’s radar. And that’s a bit scary. So verse 7:
“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?”

But God is love. He may be grieved by our behaviour, but Jesus shows us how extraordinarily patient and kind he is. Instead of condemning the disciples, Jesus teaches them a better way: the one who would be first (the greatest) must be the servant of all. He puts a small child in their midst  as an example of those they must particularly serve – the ones society considers least important and who cannot repay or reward them.

Two things particularly help us to live with the fact that we can never do anything under the radar with God. The first and most important is that God knows us and loves us. There is nothing we can say or do to make God love us any less.

The second is to learn to love ourselves ‘warts and all’, the way God loves us. This enables an honest humility about the fact that we frequently ‘get it wrong’. Which in turn enables us to stop our anxious self-justification or denial and accept correction. And in this way we allow God to help us grow and gradually become more fully the people he intends us to be.

Every blessing

Graham

Dear Friends,

I am intrigued by a book I was given to read by my son, Mark. Its title is Feral by George Montbiot (published by Penguin in 2014). Some of it is an easy read, some not.

His basic argument is that the world, especially the more ‘developed’ world needs rewilding. The environment has been woefully depleted by clearing forests and the countryside for farming. (He has a particular dislike for sheep and their destructive grazing habits.)

But the longing which he expresses for a world where nature is allowed to run its course less hindered by human intervention, is not just about the ecology of land and sea. It is about how we human beings live and interact with our environment in a fulfilling way. Our lives need rewilding!

Environmentalists tend to focus on changing our behaviour to do less damage, to pollute less, to waste less, to travel less, to leave less of a footprint. While all these things are good they do not address the ‘tameness’ of our lives. Possibly quite the reverse. We were meant for a closer engagement with nature than feeding the ducks!

In the 18^thcentury North America, there are many recorded instances where ‘white’ people of European descent were captured and ended up living freely among Native American communities, and also where Native American (Indian) people were captured before living freely among white communities.

Whenever given the choice to return to their own people, Europeans (men and women) chose to stay with the Native Americans and Native Americans chose to return to their own communities (pages 44-46). The more confined, settled life of the people of European descent was almost universally rejected in favour of a more mobile, free and uncertain life – a more fulfilling life. I think we suffer from thinking our way of life is better than others.

250 years on, more than ever, we suffer from “spirits oppressed by pleasure, wealth and care” as Timothy Dudley-Smith writes in his hymn ‘Lord, for the Years’. The spiritual malaise that comes from too much time and resources spent on our entertainment, while much of the world around us suffers from deprivation.

It’s true that our lives can be suddenly upended by a medical diagnosis, a tragic accident or life-changing event, but mostly we have stable lives. Safe even. We may not always feel ‘safe’, but in comparison with the rest of the world it is surely so.

George Montbiot convinces me that the ecology of land and sea needs rewilding, not least because human beings need it. Our lives need physical and other challenges that are worthy of the people we are made to be. We need bigger challenges than a video game.

We behave as if some things in our world are extinct when they are not. We (men and women!) need to become the hunters we once were. Together we need to hunt and destroy poverty, prejudice and exclusion. We need to hunt and destroy corruption. We need to hunt and destroy loneliness and isolation, mental and physical diseases and much much more. Everyone who takes up the hunt will find it challenging and rewarding.

For me this is abundant life. The life Jesus calls us to. Costly, risky, swimming against the current, free and fulfilled.

With my love and prayers,

Graham

Dear Friends

I don’t have too many memories of my mother. She died when I was 12. But one memory was stirred by the royal wedding.

I must have been about 9 years old when a BBC documentary was made about the royal family. Being Irish, we were hardly royalists, but watched the programme at our home in Dublin anyway.  I barely remember anything about it except that I ended up thinking how lucky the royal children were and that I’d very much like to be a prince!

When I told my mother that I’d like to be a prince, I remember being surprised by her response. I can’t recall in detail what she said except that she helped me imagine what it would really be like to be a prince, and basically how hard it would be. She certainly shattered my illusions and I can remember feeling a little bit sorry for the princes – though still slightly jealous of them.

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with boys or girls wanting to be princesses or princes, or dressing up and acting out roles. We need to encourage imaginative play among children and perhaps among adults too.

Imagination can lead one astray, or make one fearful, as happens to Will Thacker when he turns down Anna Scott in the film “Notting Hill”. Julia Roberts plays Hollywood film star Anna, who asks Will (Hugh Grant) to look beyond his anxiety about the Hollywood razzamatazz and see who she really is: “.. just a girl standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” (Still brings tears to my eyes!)

A disciplined and adult imagination helps us understand many situations. When we imagine what it is like to be in someone else’s shoes it can change our attitude and draw us into prayer and action.

Understanding someone’s situation leads to a natural empathy, but we may have to work hard at it. Just as a prince isn’t defined by being a prince, so many of the labels we give people do not define them but we can be lazy and not look beyond them. Hatred and prejudice is so often a failure of the imagination.

A little knowledge and a bit of imagination might cause us to look out for someone who’s just had a baby, or someone who is new to our neighbourhood. It may lead us to support a foreigner seeking asylum, or pray for our government, or for a just peace in Syria, or lead us to give money to the work of Joanna among prostitutes in Leeds

Our own imagination, our own ability to visualise any situation will be limited in many ways, but other people can help us see our blind spots and fill in some of our lack of experience or knowledge. It’s good to have friends and be part of a broad community that does that.

As a child I made a superficial judgement about other people’s lives. I fear that I still sometimes do that! But I am constantly challenged by Jesus’ command to love one’s neighbour as oneself. That requires a lot of imagination.

With love,

Graham

Dear Friends,

A member of our congregation recently said these or similar words to me: “I can accept all the stories of Jesus up to the crucifixion, but I’m really not sure about the resurrection.”

I suspect that there are quite a few people who think the same, from within our Church and from the wider community. The reasoning for this is simple. People don’t rise from the dead, so the resurrection couldn’t have happened.

What is strange is that I’m fairly sure this person believes in God. Not some little god, but God the creator of heaven and earth. A supreme being, shrouded in mystery certainly, but nonetheless ruling over all things.

If there is such a God, then nothing is impossible for him / her. Raising up someone from death to new and eternal life is only strange to us because God doesn’t usually do it. Presumably the one who is responsible for creating our massive universe, possibly many universes, is capable of far more than we can ask or imagine.

So, why did God intervene to do this extraordinary thing? Why would he break all the laws of nature which he had set up? Obviously it was for something very important.

The resurrection of Jesus to a new and eternal life is the foundation of our Christian faith. It is the guarantee that we are not trapped in a closed world, a world inevitably ending in death and destruction. It is the triumph of love over evil and death.

The resurrection of Jesus is the vindication of all he said and did, declaring with power that he is the Son of God. It is the assurance that we are destined for life forever in a healed universe. Jesus is the firstborn into that new creation, and there is a place for us all there.

When I was visiting a Masai village in Kenya, I heard how the President of Kenya had visited the village a few weeks before. All the children were very excited that day, as well as the adults. But the adults kept the children away from the President, until it was time for them to sing their song.

Having sung their song, the children were supposed to wave farewell and retreat to the outskirts of the gathering. But one brave boy ran to where the President was seated and put his head down to be greeted. (Masai children approach you and bow their head expecting you to bless them by putting your hand on the top of their head. If you don’t they gently head-butt you!)

When the President put his hand on the child’s head in a friendly and welcoming manner, all the children rushed forward and queued up to be similarly blessed by the President.

This is an illustration of what Jesus has done for us. Jesus the Son of God, risen from death, goes into the presence of God the Father, pioneering the way for all of us. So we follow him boldly, assured of our welcome.

Graham