still small voice

Life is simple for a child.

Me: I can't hear you reading.

Abby: I'm reading in my head.

Me: Oh.

Abby: Do you know how to read in your head?

Me: No.

Abby: You just look at the words and God reads them to you.

today

World leaders are gathering in New York today to renew commitments to achieving the Millennium Development Goals by 2015, and to set out concrete plans and practical steps for action.

Actions speak louder than words.

In the midst of the current financial crisis The Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu, has highlighted the irony of the US decision to bail out its banks and other financial systems at a cost of $700bn, while the lives of six million children could be saved with only $5bn.

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

May the voice of God be heard in New York today and may justice be done.

moon

I can't believe it's been a week already since my last post. What a slacker!

Tonight I am leading our fortnightly home group; the subject is light.

There are a lot of references to light throughout scripture, and one of my absolute favourites is Psalm 89:37 where the moon is described as the enduring or faithful witness in the skies.

I think we are supposed to be like the moon. We don't have light or produce light, but we do reflect the light that shines on us. If you can see the moon you know the sun is still shining.

When people look at us they should be able to tell that Jesus is alive.

A favourite verse because it challenges me and inspires me and reminds me that it is all about God.

faith

At the start of the new school term I shared a verse from the bible with two of my colleagues.

Luke 17:5-6 The apostles said to the Lord, 'Increase our faith!' The Lord replied, 'If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea", and it would obey you.

A few days later I bought a book by Ron Dunn called 'Don't just sit there...have faith.'

Yesterday I was talking to my very good friend James about faith and prayer, and how we understand all of that.

This morning the UCB bible notes were about 'The prayer of faith' with reference to James 5:15 The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.

We must have faith. We must pray. The rest is up to God.

mad world

I like the free newspaper that comes through my door every Thursday.

I like reading about what's happening in the community in which I live.

I like some of the adverts and the TV guide.

I don't like the fact that someone from India phones me up to see if my newspaper has been delivered. That is mad!

Ready and waiting

I have finally finished all my preparations for my trip to Ghana, which is just as well as I leave tomorrow!

All the money has been paid. I've had all my injections and taken my first malaria tablet. My bags are packed and my lift to the airport is arranged. Everything is in order.

My preparations have been very thorough, not least because I got sunburned in Devon last week and endured the primitive toilet facilities at Bridgwater services on the M5 on the way home.

I'll post details of my trip upon my return.

Farewell for now.

Run the race

I am a very proud Daddy today.

I had the pure joy of watching Abby take part in her first ever school sports day.

Seeing her running and smiling with all her might was absolutely fantastic.

Abby didn't win her race, and I didn't fair too well in the Dad's race, but we both ran as though to win and enjoyed every minute of it.

There was another boy who didn't do so well. He came last, by a long way, in the egg and spoon race but still threw his arms into the air triumphantly as he crossed the finish line.

There's a poem that for a long time I thought was about running a race, but I was wrong. It's really a love poem.

The Race

"Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten,” they shout at me and plead
there’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.
And as I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene,
for just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son,
and each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went, young hearts and hopes afire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, his dad was in the crowd,
was running near the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”

But as he speeded down the field across a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his hands, flew out to brace,
and mid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.

So, down he fell and with him hope, he couldn’t win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win the race!”

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs, he slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face,
that steady look that said again, “Get up and win the race!”

So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last,
if I’m going to gain those yards, he thought, I’ve got to run real fast.
Exerting everything he had, he regained eight or ten,
but trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye,
there’s no sense running anymore—three strikes I’m out—why try'
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away,
so far behind, so error prone, a loser all the way.

“I’ve lost, so what’s the use,” he thought, “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low. “Get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here, get up and win the race.”

With borrowed will, “Get up,” it said, “you haven’t lost at all,
for winning is not more than this; to rise each time you fall.”
So, up he rose to run once more, and with a new commit,
he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.

So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered the winning runner as he crossed the line, first place;
head high and proud and happy—no falling, no disgrace.
but, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, last place,
the crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race.

And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
"To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.

“Quit!” “Give up, you’re beaten,” they still shout in my face,
but another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race.”

Listen to the voice of your heavenly Father and get up and win the race!

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.
1 Corinthians 9:24