Sparing a thought for Farmers

Many of the Parishioners here are Farmers or in some way connected to Agriculture.  Having spoken with a couple of dairy farmers in the last few days I am getting a greater understanding of how tough this cold, icy weather can be.  Their work takes much longer in these freezing conditions, as they do everything to stop the water pipes from freezing, keeping the yard from getting too slippery and trying to prevent the cows skating around!  Then there's loads of other stuff which to a layman like myself I wouldn't get or understand, but nevertheless farmers have both my sympathy and my prayers at this time.

Yesterday I was driving (very slowly) through Kilmalooda on my way to a visit.  I had set out too early and had some time to spare so I took a few pictures.  Firstly the one at the top of the cows, (which got me thinking again about the farmers), then one of the church (or rather 21 pictures merged together to form a giant picture on the computer),

then one of the icy road

and finally one of the old raiding Castle in the valley.  For all its harshness, the snow and ice is at the same time, quite beautiful...

In the days of Noah.

Today's Sermon.  Text Matthew 24:36-44

Even just a short time ago hardly anyone would have predicted the enormity of what is now happening to our country. The thought that we would be plunged into a recession so low and debt levels so high that we will never be able to afford even the interest on the loans let alone the loans themselves would have been laughed off. In the midst of the ‘Celtic Tiger’, whilst the Property Bubble was still expanding, no one predicted how great the fall that we are now experiencing would be. Anytime an economist came on the radio and said that the whole thing was unsustainable, they were laughed at and not taken seriously. The mentality of so many was ‘eat drink and be merry’; with no thought to the consequences of endless spending and borrowing of money that was not ours. It turns out that predicting the future is a hard thing to do.

When I was a boy, I was fortunate enough to go with my parents on a holiday to Italy. My favourite part was when we visited the ancient city of Pompeii. This city in Roman times was full of life and home to 18,000 people. They were just living their lives when, out of the blue, there was an enormous volcanic eruption which rained down hot ash on the city. Many managed to escape, but 2000 people didn’t, they were buried alive. Today you can walk through the city streets and see ancient shop signs, houses, and theatres and it’s not hard to imagine that the people there had no idea when they woke up that morning on August 24th AD 79 that it would be their last day on earth.

The second coming seems all a bit like something from a Hollywood movie, something fantastic and theatrical. I think it's one of those times when the Bible uses metaphorical (or picture) language to convey to us what it will be like.

The most important thing about chapter 24 in Mathew's Gospel is to remember that it is primarily about the end of the world’s history. History is in a real sense “His Story”. The Kingdom of God came with Jesus’ Incarnation; when He lived among us. The Lord’s disciples, both then and now are citizens of two countries; we belong to this age and in the age to come. As Micheal Green puts it “”We are not what we were, but equally, we are not yet what we shall be”(1). History is steadily moving to the day when God’s Kingdom will be “Consummated”, that is achieved and fully realised. Jesus’ return will settle forever the destiny of all people. There will be no sitting on the fence, either we are with Him or we are against Him (cf. Matthew 12:30)

Our reading begins with the Lord saying:

‘But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father...’ (36)

Only the Father knows when the end will come, not even the Lord Jesus in His human nature knew, nor should we give any heed to anyone who claims they know when it will be either! There have over the centuries been many people who have tried to predict when the second coming would be. One of the most famous was a chap called John Napier, a sixteenth-century mathematician. He applied logarithms and all sorts of clever formulae he had invented and applied it to the book of Revelation (the last book of the New Testament). He then calculated that Jesus would return sometime between 1688 and 1700. His book sold like hot cakes and went into twenty-three editions - until 1701, when sales unaccountably plummeted!(2)

To help His disciples understand what His second coming would be like, the Lord Jesus then says:

For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. (37-39).

The people In Noah's day would have had a hard time believing the warnings that a great cataclysmic flood was going to sweep them away, even though Noah was building a great big Ark (as a more than subtle hint)! If they really suspected that the end was coming they would have asked Noah if they could get on board. The people in Noah’s day were just getting on with their lives, just like we do today, they were eating and drinking and marrying right up until the end. The warnings are there for us too, though we have something much greater than an Ark to find safety in, we have the Lord Jesus Christ; He is our Ark, it is through believing and trusting in Him as our Lord and Saviour that we find eternal safety and salvation.

We do not know when the end will come but the door of the Ark is still open and there is still time to get on board, why wait, we do not know how long we have, it may be tomorrow for all we know?

The Lord Jesus explains things further when He says:

Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. (40-42)

It is clear that once the final day arrives, all opportunity for repentance will be gone, the door is shut. These are very sobering verses which act as a clear warning to us. If we are not on board the Ark of Christ we shall be left behind, lost forever, there will be no second chance.
Jesus is pleading with us - ‘get on board, take my hand, quickly, now before it is too late.’

He continues:

But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. (43-44)

Anyone that has had their house broken into will be able to relate to this. It happened to Sonja and I once, in our previous Rectory. We came back one evening to see a couple of windows broken open and saw that they had tried to break into the very strong filing cabinet in the study, making quite a mess of it in the process. Of course, if we had known what time the burglar was coming we would have been ready, we would have had all the lights on in the house and let it be obvious that we were there, so the burglar would not have bothered trying to break in. The Lord Jesus urges us to live lives of constant readiness for His return, to live in joyful hope and expectation that He is coming at an unexpected hour.

Probably most of you have heard of or read some of John Grisham’s novels, such as The Firm, Pelican Brief, and The Client. Despite his fame and wealth, Grisham makes a concerted effort to focus on things that have lasting meaning, including his faith in God. Grisham remembers, as a young law student, the remarkable advice of a friend:
“One of my best friends in college died when he was 25, just a few years after we graduated from Mississippi State University. I was in law school, and he called me one day and wanted to get together. So we had lunch, and he told me he had cancer. I couldn't believe it.
"What do you do when you realize you are about to die?" I asked.
"It's real simple," he said. "You get things right with God, and you spend as much time with those you love as you can. Then you settle up with everybody else."
Finally he said, "You know, really, you ought to live every day like you have only a few more days to live."
Grisham concludes: ‘I haven't forgotten those words’”.
Will Norton, Jr., in Christianity Today.Christian Reader, Vol. 32, no. 6.(3)

Let us make the very best use of the time we have left, because no matter who we are the time is short and will go very quickly. Let us make sure that we know Christ as our Lord and Saviour and let us make sure that we are living lives of readiness and expectancy: What would we like Jesus to find us doing when He returns? Then let us be doing that thing. Amen.



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(1) Matthew for Today, Michael Green, Hodder & Stoughton, 1999, p.229
(2) From Scripture Union Bible Notes “Closer to God”, No.12, 2001.
(3) http://preachingtoday.com/search/?type=scripture&query=Matthew%2024:36-44&start=21

Harbouring?

This was Courtmacsherry harbour last week as we waited for "The Storm". It's strange how the word "harbouring" seems (to me at least) to have negative connotations. We hear about someone "harbouring criminals" or someone "harbouring" bad thoughts or bitterness / resentment in their hearts, which is of course something that we need to be aware of.

But I like to think of what God Harbours us from, though even as I write that many many objections pop up in my mind!  It is a deep and holy privilege of my work to listen to and to pray with people who have experienced every high and every low that life has to offer.  Yes I can think of many times when a sick person has recovered, when a potential tragedy has been averted or the joy of when a person accepts Jesus as their Lord and Saviour.  But I can also bring to mind many times when a sick person has not recovered, when a tragedy has happened and of trying to minister to people who have no cause for any kind of hope or joy in their lives.

Bishop Paul Colton struck a chord with many people last week with a 'tweet'.  Trying to come to terms with the sudden tragic death of a young man on a hockey pitch he wrote the next morning:

Yesterday was a day when my and others' prayers were not answered. It's hard to pray again today. Club is heartbroken. Andrew Chambers, RIP

Sometimes it seems that God does not shelter us, we are left to face the full blast of the storm, apparently on our own.  We cry out to him for help but our prayers are swallowed by a great void of nothingness.  I am reminded what what C.S. Lewis wrote after the death of his wife in his book "A grief observed" On trying to pray he experienced:

"... A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence”

As I struggled to come to terms this week with Andy Chambers' death, as my prayers joined those of hundreds, (if not thousands) of others in praying for his family and friends, and for Bishop Paul as he ministered in that situation, a strange sentence kept repeating itself over and over in my mind.  The words were strange, but I immediately knew what they were and Who it was that spoke them:

‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’

Link

They are the words of Jesus on the cross "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"  If we ever feel forsaken by God, if our despair is too great, our pain too intense or our anger too hot, then these words of Christ become our words.  In this life we can only ever have a partial answer, but if Christ himself knew what it was like then it perhaps is against the hard, rough and blood-stained foot of the cross that we find the beginnings of a response...

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Photo notes:  This picture is actually sixteen separate pictures 'stitched' together as a panorama - it takes a bit of practise to get it right!  Here's how to do it with a digital SLR:  First of all set the lens to 50mm equivalent (to minimise distortion), then take a meter reading from the brightest part of the scene.  Then put the camera in manual mode and set it to whatever the meter reading was (eg. f10, 1/250 sec) then disable the auto ISO (I used ISO 200) and manually set the white balance (I used 'cloudy' for the above), finally make sure to turn autofocus off and depending on the scene set it for just short of infinity.  Then start at one end and work your way across taking pictures.  Make sure that you have plenty of overlap with each picture as this helps the computer to create the image afterwards.  (You can do this using JPEG's, but I use RAW files, again to give the computer more to work with).  If you have photoshop you are laughing, I have an old version of photoshop elements which does the job almost as well, though there are many other programmes both free and expensive that will do the job for you.  If you want to know more, just ask and I will be happy to help.

Horses for Courses (or why I am an Anglican)

(West Cork Horses waiting for that strange guy with a camera to fall off the fence, 

and no I am not sitting on any metaphorical fences, see below).  

By the time I was in my early twenties I had been thoroughly put off the Anglican Church for life, or so I thought. I had attended a Church of England boarding school where we were required to attend chapel every day, seven days a week. Listening to the chaplain preach, carefully explaining why the miracles in the Bible never actually happened and then singing the Te Deum (tedium) was like some kind of Chinese water torture. I finally gave up on the Church of England when on my first Sunday at University I went to the local Cathedral, to be greeted by no one, sat in a space where no one came within a hundred feet of me and then no one said good bye as I was leaving at the end of a very dry and boring service.

I started going to the Baptist Church when I was home. They were brilliant, friendly (but not invasively so), and I learnt so much from the great sermons and the example of the way those in the youth group lived. At University (after my brief flirtation with the Cathedral) I followed the crowd and went to the Elim Pentecostal church. They too were great people, great sermons, great ministry to the students (especially the free lunches - of course there is no such thing as a free lunch, the catch was that these people really cared about you). I probably learnt more about God, His love for me as a sinner and about personal holiness from these two churches than from anywhere else since. This was the place where I met my future wife; we journeyed though these churches together and it was a wonderful time.

Skip forward a few years and we find ourselves living in Ireland. Yes, there was an Elim and other churches in the nearby town, but we felt drawn to the local Church of Ireland. A good sized congregation was eight people; it was difficult to see any hope for the future. In my massive ignorance and shameful naivety I doubted how God could use a place like this. We helped with the Sunday School, more children then showed up and we began to realise that this place mattered to God (I am ashamed to think that I ever doubted otherwise). I can’t remember if it was a dream or a very clear picture in my imagination but I saw clearly that this church was like a table where there was very little food on the table and the people were very grateful for whatever there was. Other churches had more food than they could eat and their tables were overflowing. There was no doubt where we were needed most. It was not long after this that the sense of call (to ordination) came, starting as a small voice and growing gradually to the point that it was impossible to ignore or put off any longer.

I get frustrated today by anyone who thinks their church is better than someone else’s. We could take all day and hundreds of pages outlining the faults of the Anglican Church (in fact this is what many people seem to spend their whole time doing), but it is my home, it is the part of the church to which I feel called to help out in some small way.

I’ve been skirting around the edge of what I want to say because I am trying to put it as delicately and sensitively and lovingly as I can. Please my brothers and sisters in other church denominations don’t think that your denomination has got it right and the part of the church to which I belong has got it wrong. Please don’t feel sorry for me or patronise me; yes we pray using a book, yes our new hymns are not very new or trendy, yes our clergy wear seventeenth century fancy dress, yes we struggle with a historical / modern / relevant dialectic and I could keep going, but my point is this: We are part of the Body of Christ. Together.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

(1 Corinthians 12:12).


When I was thinking about all this a phrase which I haven’t heard for a long time popped into my head, “Horses for Courses”.  I couldn’t have told you what it actually meant, so I looked it up: It means that some horses are more suited to some race courses than others, so some people take to some things better than others. God has made us all uniquely individual. Some people I believe are naturally predisposed to worship God in different ways (see Gary Thomas’ book “Sacred Pathways”, Zondervan, 2000, for more on this). Now if someone finds their home in one church denomination, how strange it is that they should look negatively on others who attend churches of other denominations.  Some like to worship in silence, some like to look at icons to help them pray, some like organ music, others like drums and guitars, some like incense, some like video screens, some like medieval hymns some like songs that are in tune with contemporary music trends. All these things are good if they draw a person closer to God. All these things are bad if they become an end in themselves.


Horses for Courses and lets leave it there.

The AIB in Schull

On a visit to Cape Clear Island a couple of years ago a particular field on a steep slope behind the Youth Hostel was pointed out to me.  It was nothing special to look at (rougly near where the top photo was taken from).  I was told that this was the site of the former Church of Ireland church, which had been dismantled in the 1930's - and that the stone was taken and used to build the AIB bank in Schull.  

There was a time, I am sure, when it was beyond the comprehension of the people involved that the church building would ever be dismantled and yet that time came.  It was no longer financially viable to keep the church open, numbers had fallen and the stones (which had come from Cornwall) had to be dismantled.  

There was a time too when the AIB (along with the other banks) seemed totally secure.  Banks (like churches) were built with stone to convey solidity, security and permanency.  Yet it seems that were it not for our children (and goodness knows how many further generations down the line that will be paying to keep the banks open for business) then they also would be going the way that the Church on Cape Clear did all those years ago...

Rain

He draws up the water vapour

and then distills it into rain.

The rain pours down from the clouds,

and everyone benefits.

(Job 36:27-28)

Photo taken on the Cork Kerry border on the N71 between Kenmare and Glengarriff.  

Home

Anonymous 

The snail he lives in his hard round house,

In the orchard, under the tree:

Says he, "I have but a single room;

But it's large enough for me."

Faded Glory

I suppose we don't need any reminder that Summer has now reluctantly begun to make way for Autumn.  All around, the leaves are beginning to change colour, many flowers parade their final encore and the sounds are those of finality (for this year at least); the swan song is in the air.

I came across this butterfly whilst recovering a rugby ball from a flower bed.  Like the autumn leaves, its wings are fading; once glorious colours are now only shades of brown.  Yet it is still beautiful.

Having helped with a couple of funerals recently, the words of the old funeral service (which is seldom used now) came to mind:

Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live ... He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.  

A little bleak perhaps, but a stark reminder of not only the fragility of life but its transience also.  Not only we but all of Creation are in an inevitable Autumn, waiting patiently for that eternal Spring to come...

Common Darter

Dragonflies are wonderful insects to watch and for me at least very difficult to photograph.  I don't have a macro (close up) lens so it means I have to get as close as I can.  Unfortunately my attempts to get a picture of this fella (a Common Darter), were a bit like the fisherman and 'the one that got away'.  From a distance I managed to get the picture above (which I have magnified to make it look bigger but at the expense of detail) and then I carefully edged forward until I got really close.  It would have been a good picture.  I pressed the shutter release only for the memory card in the camera to stop working!  As I looked at the error message in the viewfinder blinking 'CHR' the Dragonfly saw his chance of escape and darted off.  Humph.

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?



My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.



He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;



indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.



The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;



the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.



The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;



the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.



(All photos taken on our recent holiday - all in the Great Langdale Valley, Cumbria, except for the Great Grey Owl, taken at Rays Farm in Shropshire).

Rock and Water

I've been reading "Creative Nature & Outdoor Photography" by Brenda Tharp, which I can highly recommend.  One of the challenges she lays down at the start of the book is to ask yourself what you are trying to say when taking a photograph.  Does the picture have meaning?  What emotions does it evoke in the viewer?  What do they take away with them from the picture?  And so on.  For someone like me who tends to snap away without giving the pictures much thought until afterwards, this has been an exciting challenge, but one that I find difficult to achieve.  I see something that I like and I take a picture of it, but it is good to think about what I am trying to say even if it is mostly (for me at least) a subliminal process.



Ok, lets try it out on this picture.  It's a stream in the Great Langdale Valley (in Cumbria), taken a couple of weeks ago.  Now if I'm honest, when I look, I just see water rushing though rock (I used a slow shutter speed of 1/6 sec to emphasise the movement of the water).  To go beyond that description takes a little more effort on my part; I see hard solid granite, that is permanent, changing little over thousands of years.  I remember it being warm from the sun and like heavy-duty sandpaper to the touch.  That rock isn't going anywhere.  In contrast the water is anything but solid, anything but permanent, it is very cold, having come from further up the mountain.  It is constantly changing, in a hurry and always different in shape and depth and speed.

The rock and the water could hardly be more different.  As I force myself to think further, I think of a similarlity between God and people.  God is the rock, permanent, eternal, solid, strong, unchanging.  We on the other hand are fluid and fragile, passing through time in the blinking of an eye.  The rock guides the flow of the water, (hmm maybe that is like God and us).  One way the water differes from us and God though is that it (albeit very gradually) shapes and smoothes the rock.  We cannot change God in any way, but then we don't need to, it is rather us who need His help to change...  OK, that'll do for now :-)

Light in the Darkness

This photo was taken a few nights ago from the road approaching Galley Head Lighthouse.  With camera on tripod I kept the shutter open for twenty seconds.  In that time the light came around about four times and the movement of the sea has been completely smoothed out so that it looks opaque and misty.

I have always appreciated the metaphor of the lighthouse, there's so much there - the light shining in the darkness, the surety and firmness of the rock in the midst of the unpredictable chaos of the sea, the warning for ships out at sea and the light to guide boats safely into the harbour.  Which leads us onto many thoughts; Christ as our rock and the light of the world, the Bible as a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119), the light shining in the darkness as Christ coming into the world (John 1) and so on.

With the Lighthouse long since automated, it is now possible to book accommodation here in the former Lightkeeper's residence, a very nice place to stay I think...

Golden Hour

Towards Castlefreke and Long Strand

There's a time in the evening when the sun is thinking about setting but seems reluctant to do so.  Low in the sky the light is soft and filtered, imparting a certain 'glow' to everything.

As I stood in that field of Barley, I felt like I was in the midst of a great painting, a work of genius, by the great Artist.  It was a moment of beauty; I could hear the sea rush against the shore to my left and I could smell the earthy ground, still wet from the recent rainfall.  A breeze was gently blowing across the fields so that the Barley seemed - almost - to mimic the movement of the nearby waves.  There was a mist beginning to rise in the distant hollows and I knew that the special light was about to leave, so I reluctantly did the same.

Great Saltee

Gannet (in front) & Razorbill (behind)

Have you ever experienced something in Creation that took your breath away?  It hasn't happened to me too often; I remember a volcanic pool in Yugoslavia (I think) that was two hundred metres deep and you could see the bottom so clearly through the depths of crystal-clear water.  Another time I remember snorkelling and chancing across a magnificent Octopus that kept changing colour.  I had the privilege once of seeing Mount Kenya emerge from the clouds, impossibly large on the horizon...  (I realise that I am now sounding like Basil Fawlty giving his "herds of Wildebeest" speech!)

Gannets' Rock

These small band of memories was joined by another on Tuesday as I was invited to join a couple of photographers as they headed out to the Saltee Islands off Kilmore Quay, Co. Wexford.  It was a beautiful day and I was simply awestruck at it all, from the boat trip to the sheer number of birds and the beauty of the Island.  It was stunning.  At one point, as I rounded a corner of rock and saw ahead of me thousands of Gannets nesting and swooping and squawking I just wanted to fall on my knees and worship - not what I was looking at, but the One who created such incredible beauty.

Gannet Chick

Admittedly the little chap above wouldn't win any beauty contests but it was just incredible to be able to get so close, a real privilege.  I felt like a special guest, invited to a place where yes I was an intruder but momentarily at least a cautiously welcomed one.  

Great Saltee Island

One of the photographers I was with told me how, when he had brought his daughter to the Island on a previous visit, she had remarked that "it felt like heaven".  

I got a little bit of that feeling too; I only know as much as what heaven will be like as the Bible tells us, but something tells me that there was at least a trace of that eternal magic ingredient here...

Clonakilty Agricultural Show

We had a great family outing to the Clonakilty Agricultural Show last Sunday afternoon.  I'm told that we had exceptional weather (it nearly always rains and this year we only had a light shower).  It was all very impressive, yes the displays were great and the exhibitions and the stalls and stands were really very good, but what impressed me most was the community spirit and just the sheer togetherness of everyone.

People of varying backgrounds and interests were there together and all really enjoying themselves, the winners were congratulated the losers commiserated and it just all 'worked'.

This might all sound strange to those who are familiar with this (and other) shows, let me explain:  I grew up in a community which had strong links to the land and I remember shows in my childhood years that were just like the one here in Clonakilty (my Step Father used to almost single-handedly organise them).  But there was not the same community spirit, people wanted the show but only if they didn't have to do much to help etc etc., you know the story and that's why that particular show stopped many years ago.  I hope and pray that doesn't happen here and I honestly don't think it will, the community spirit is too strong.  Anyway I just suppose that I came across something very precious last Sunday and when I come across something that is precious I naturally want to protect it.  But I know that there is nothing to fear here...  

;~)

Early-purple Orchid

It's amazing what you can find when you're not looking for anything!  My better half came across this tiny little flower whilst she was cutting the grass (the blades of grass around the flower give a sense of the small scale).  We think that it is the beginnings of an Early-purple Orchid, but are not entirely sure, maybe some of you green-fingered readers will be able to help us out here?  I know some people like to treat their lawns with all sorts of chemicals so that they can enjoy a velvety grass-only lawn with not a weed or any moss in sight - I'll gladly put up with a few dandelions here and there if it means we can get to see such lovely flowers as this:

Lord, just as a flower can radiate its precious beauty

and cast its fragrance everywhere.

So I ask you to cast the sweet fragrance of your presence over me. 

Surround me with your love.

Fill me with your healing balm.

Enfold me with your peace.

Comfort me with your presence.

May your fragrance linger in the stillness of my soul.

May your healing love renew my very being.

(From Fr. James McSweeny: A Year in Reflection)

Courtmacsherry

Courtmacsherry comes alive during the summer months.  It really is a beautiful place and a perfect spot for holidaymakers (if only the sunshine could be guaranteed!)

Whilst I was there yesterday it was pretty quiet, but there is anticipation in the air.  The Church of Ireland community are beginning to get the wonderful little church building ready for the summer season and those involved in the tourism industry are hoping and praying that this year will be a good one.

Quite correctly, the people of Courtmacsherry are very proud of their Lifeboat.  The Lifeboat Station has been there since 1825 and many lives have been saved over the years between then and now.

Of course there is a clear parallel between the work of the Lifeboat Station and the work of the Church.  Both are in the business of saving souls; the Lifeboat crew save people from drowning, Jesus saves us from ourselves and sets us on the rock of salvation...

From Psalm 40:

I waited patiently for the LORD; 

he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, 

out of the mud and mire; 

he set my feet on a rock 

and gave me a firm place to stand.

He put a new song in my mouth, 

a hymn of praise to our God. 

Many will see and fear 

and put their trust in the LORD.

Neighbours

Nikon D70s, 1/320sec, f4.8, ISO 200, 180mm

For a couple of weeks towards the end of last month we enjoyed the company of some new neighbours.  It was lovely to see them running and playing in the large green field behind our house.  Often when my wife opened the back door to hang up some washing or do a bit of gardening they would come trotting down to the fence to say hello.  They were quite happy to pose for a photo too!

Then, just as suddenly as they arrived, they were gone.  The field is now empty again, save for a large white horse that keeps to the distant end.  Whether the calves have gone to another field or to market I don't know, but we miss them :-(

The Moon & Venus

Nikon D70s, f4.2, 1/5 sec, ISO 200, 85mm

When I consider your heavens, 

the work of your fingers, 

the moon and the stars, 

which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him, 

the son of man that you care for him?

(Psalm 8:3-4)

This was the view from the Rectory garden just after ten o'clock last night.  Too large to be a star, my best guess is that it's Venus (see here).

Photo notes (If you're interested in the technical aspect of the picture):  I set my camera on a tripod, placed on firm ground and put a timer delay so that there would be no vibration for the long exposure necessary.  To my surprise I noticed however that even though there was no wind and I didn't touch the camera during the exposure the picture is still slightly blurred.  The only conclusion I can come to is that the slap of the viewfinder mirror caused it.  Unfortunately my camera does not have mirror lock-up, which would have prevented this.  Next time however I will take a much longer exposure and hold the lens cap over the lens for the first second so that the initial vibration is not recorded on the final picture.

Rathbarry Church

Nikon D70s, 1/160 sec, f6.3, ISO 200, 105mm equivalent (click to enlarge)

This is the now long-abandoned remains of Rathbarry Church, on the Castlefreke estate, near Rosscarbery.  It was quite a gloomy day so I greatly appreciated the fact that the clouds parted just enough to allow the sun to light up the ruins for the photo.  This light only lasted a few seconds and then was gone again.  It seemed to us that access to the church was no longer available, but I was reliably informed the other day that as the church yard is still open for burials, the track leading to it is a public right of way.  The local land owner has made a convincing attempt to make it look as though you would be taking a very grave (excuse the pun) risk in setting foot on the road, but maybe next time we are taking a walk on the nearby beach at Long Strand we'll take a better look.  

Seeing closed and derelict church buildings dotted around the countryside (of which there are many) could cause one to be a little downcast at the current state of the Church today.  "Numbers are not what they were you know".  A Rector taking a service at which there are six people present (including the Rector) is encouraged by the words "In my day there were at least oooh ten thousand people in these pews at 5.30 am on a Sunday morning" and clergy are blessed by tales of how "in the good ol' days" they had great fun breaking the ice in the font in order to baptise the queues waiting outside.  Make no mistake, these are challenging times.  

I've always had a great respect for the charity Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors with no boundaries, frontiers or borders) and I just love the name and what it means and what it implies.  Of course, the same idea is true of the Church also.  We are (or at least we should be) a church without boundaries, frontiers or borders.  Yes we meet together in buildings that are beautiful, historic (and cold and costly) but we are not limited by them.  Even if we had no buildings we would still exist (though the buildings committee might have to find something else to do).  A "church without walls" is not a new concept, but it ever remains an attractive one...