Oh for a thousand words to bring

Or should it be "The Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak"? I may have had some aspirations to work in the world of publishing, but I'd probably be bankrupt by now if my publication dates for a hard copy magazine were as erratic as these "regular ramblings"! I'm sorry if you've visited here at all since reading my last entry ten days ago, expecting something more, but it's only on this Bank Holiday Monday afternoon that I have managed to get round to doing it: a busy but enjoyable few days have been spent flitting between Feltham, the capital and the coast which I may well touch upon in this latest helping of Savagian prose or in the near future. Oh, I've had the inspiration to write, all right, and even the quirky titles- but my mind and body have just not quite managed to connect with the keyboard long enough to get my thoughts down in print and committed to the blogosphere.

Never mind, here we are now and I hope you find today's read interesting. To my surprise and delight, I know that readers of this blog are coming from the most unlikely of web searches and from all corners of the globe. I guess there's a vain self-publisher in all of us, really, residing in the same part of the brain where that book that is supposedly inside everyone is supposed to dwell. Adding the site meter to this page a few months ago has been very enlightening and encouraging, particularly when I see the length of time some of you are spending on this site. Fair swells one with pride it does!

On the other hand, you may find my waffly ways just a bit too prosaic and it may have you instead reaching for the Prozac, though I certainly hope not. Coming back to the title at the head of this posting, I don't know whether I should feel proud or ashamed that some 21 thousand words have already appeared here through Google's good offices since a modest beginning on that memorable Saturday morning last August when Great Britain carried home another record gold medal in the coxless fours in Athens (that posting was entitled "Matthew Row the Boat Ashore"). Incidentally, the awesome previous performance at Athens was re-created this weekend at the international rowing regatta not a million miles from here at Dorney Lake, near Windsor. I'm rather ashamed to admit though, I don't even know who won! I guess perhaps I am being rather too much of a "dry bob"- the Eton College term for non-rowers, though in fact I'd love to be messing about on the water even though I'm useless with an oar between my fingers and thumbs.

The beauty of blogs though is that there are no rules, apart obviously from the usual ones of the law and good taste. I hope nobody ever feels I have offended against the latter as it would be the last thing I would ever wish to do. There is more than enough of that about in the dross that passes for entertainment on British TV screens these days. Maybe you will have guessed from that, I shall NOT be glued to the bedbound antics of the Housemates in Big Brother VI, which has just started on Channel 4. What is the world coming to, indeed, when a Crazy Frog, genitalia covered by a fig leaf on the orders of the Advertising Standards Authority, tops the singles/ringles charts with what many regard as the most irritating sound ever to make it onto a CD? Surely there are far more important issues for our troubled world to be dealing with right now, as the future of the "European project" is thrown into chaos by the informed democratic decisions of some other amphibiously-linked citizens the other side of the channel. Vive la France, Vive la difference?
Meanwhile, for those unable to muster enough money for a square meal, let alone an emetic ringtone, the hope has to be that as the summit of the world's political heavyweights on these shores draws ever closer, and "Saint" Bob Geldof attempts to garner the true great and the good of the music world for Live8 (very good!) twenty years after that astounding July megamoney, charitychampion event which was Live Aid took place, we really can see poverty made history.

Well, we can have our ideals, but even Jesus knew that some ideals will never become reality while they rely on greedy, selfish humans. Sorry, Sir Bob, but "the poor you will always have with you".

HOORAY FOR HOLIDAYS
However, I guess I should not be too much of a killjoy, because that is the very opposite of the kind of guy I am. Indeed, these last few days I've had a great time enjoying some of the numerous events that provide great entertainment in what passes for an English summer, while still remembering the most important person in my life- in any life- who literally inspires me, breathes into me. Jesus Christ was the friend of sinners, but boy did he know how to have a great time and enjoy good grub! His first recorded miracle, in the gospel of St John chapter 2 was to turn water into wine at a wedding feast, while among his last appearances to his friends was the charmingly down to earth breakfast of bread and fish beside a lake in Palestine.

I suppose you could say that last appearance was the great Bank Holiday picnic to trump them all. Today's holiday, which I know in the US honours veterans of many a conflict, is here in England and Wales now known by the rather uninspiring title of "Late Spring Bank Holiday". However, those of us of a certain vintage will still call it Whitsun, because it was originally the Holy Day to celebrate the feast of Pentecost, or "Whit/White Sunday" in recognition of the new converts baptised in white garments on that day both in Biblical times and in the later church. Although it is a sad bone of contention in some sections of the church, undoubtedly those events changed the world forever and should still be restoring us and re-creating the world today. This is where we can truly make history.

Pentecost was Jesus delivering on a promise- that he would not leave or forsake his loyal followers, or indeed anyone who would believe in him, even though they saw his face and touched his body no more. Instead, here was the church freed up to serve all mankind, whether Jew or Gentile, slave or free, Oriental or Occidental, Turkish or English, Greek or Roman. Even in our secular age, our European brothers and sisters- with the exception of France this year, which perhaps contributed to yesterday's shock referendum verdict- will still have celebrated this great feast a fortnight ago, and long may they continue to do so. I'd rather have the spirit of love, joy and peace within me to enjoy, than a spirit of cynicism any day!


OPEN HEART SURGERY
Twenty years ago this month, and indeed as I recall on another Pentecost weekend, I knelt at the simple altar in my home church here in Feltham, and confirmed before God, clergy and congregation, my belief that I am a wretched sinner saved only by His grace and the awesome sacrfice made by Christ on the cross. I've made many mistakes in my life, and the older I get the more I recognise them rather too late, but this was definitely not one of them! Through his free gift of faith, making the simple decision to follow Christ without doubt was the most joyful, life-changing thing I have ever done. I know that I can trust in him, and him alone, for "salvation" and "life in all its fulness". Christian Barnaard may have given a renewed lease of life to many cardiac patients nearly forty years ago, but only Jesus can offer a life transplant. Alleluia for that! A hole in the heart is replaced by a heart "strangely warmed".

I used double quotes at the end of that last sentence, for I am quoting from the words of one of my spiritual heroes, who has been much in mind this last week and which inspired my main posting title today. Last Tuesday, marked a day of great celebration for all "the people called Methodists" worldwide: it was "Wesley Day". This commemorates the same date in 1738 (though pedants will point out that the subsequent calendar change should, strictly, change the date of its observation), when John Wesley was converted, and a movement which many believe saved Great Britain from the political revolutions which swept Europe and North America in the late eighteenth century was set alight. However long I blog on, I don't think I will ever compete in stature with such memorable words as these in his journal for that day:

"In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one [ i.e the preacher] was reading Luther's Preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, Christ alone for salvation. and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death!"

Elsewhere, Wesley had remarked that he felt his heart "strangely warmed", and no wonder! Like his younger brother Charles, writer of an unknown number of timeless hymns which are nuggets of sublime theology, he had discovered that burning reality of Christian faith that actually however wretched our lives and our world, it can be changed. Perhaps in a year when politicians prattle on about "respect" in one form or another and "celebrities" of all shapes and sizes attempt to bring a new world order about, the real "author of peace and lover of concord" - nothing to do with Anglo-French aviation projects gone the way of all steel here- it' way past time to devote more attention to the humblest celebrity of all who is the only one who will really change things forever. It's time to Make Unbelief History!

Happy the man whose hopes rely
on Israel's God: he made the sky,
and earth, and seas, with all their train;
his truth for ever stands secure,
he saves th'oppressed, he feeds the poor,
and none shall find his promise vain.

At which point, I'm off out to practice a little bit of local charity- at a village fete in East Bedfont, near the famous topiary peacocks of St Mary's church which some believe were first cut to prick the vain pomposity and worldly thinking of those entering the church. Proud as a peacock, maybe, but pride cometh before a fall. Nevertheless, whatever you are up to this Whitsun week, happy holiday- and I am sure I will be back here again soon. If you're you're a new reader, welcome. If you're one of my regulars, whether in Adelaide or Tucson, Germany or Glastonbury, may the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and give you peace. Amen!