Signed by Adrian for you or anyone you choose
A collection of poems and paintings inspired by the 7 things Jesus said from the cross
Paintings by Ben Ecclestone Poems by Adrian Plass
Produced by Westhill Foundation
Seven high quality full colour A5 cards in a simple presentation wallet
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£14 (Also including a USB memory stick recording of the poems to use as you wish)
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NUMBERS OF DEAD IN THE UK HAVE RISEN TO MORE THAN 20000
Today all metaphors of hope are neatly folded,
Tucked away for safety in a drawer,
Soon we will retrieve our silver linings,
Hope as we have always hoped before.
Today all metaphors of pain and loss,
Collapse into their cold component parts.
One survives, a wash of death and colour,
Twenty thousand autumn leaves in springtime,
Break our hearts.
There is no structure, church or any other organisation, even one whose members have rescued us, that is consistent or strong enough to hold us as we would like to be held, or to reassure the child in us, as that child would love to be reassured. It can take a lifetime to discover this. Hopefully, there are shortcuts.
Similarly, there are no human heroes who are heroic enough to protect us or to make us feel that we will safely survive the collapse of scaffolding that is inevitable when we understand and accept the truth of the previous point.
There comes a time when nothing is left but a crucial encounter on the shore of a lake, actual or metaphorical, between our bewildered selves, and the only one who will ever be able to tell us accurately, directly and lovingly who and what we are, and what is expected of us. We will sit there, having put to one side all our weaknesses and inadequacies, as well as our talents and strengths and the support of others, however valuable those surrendered weapons might turn out to be once they are surrendered, and he will ask us only one question. It will sound simple, but he might ask it three times, just to make sure we are really listening and understanding.
‘Do you love me?’
If our answer is ‘No’, or ‘I’m not sure’, or ‘I would really like to,’ he will probably be very helpful.
If our answer is ‘Yes’, and we are telling the truth, our lives will no longer be our own. He will give us our orders, and from that moment, if we choose to be obedient, we will be as eternally, totally safe, and as scarily, continually at risk in this troubled world, as it is possible to be. Clearly, this is not a choice to be taken lightly. The challenging, and perhaps reassuring fact is that it can only be driven and informed by love and obedience.
Heavenly father, the scaffolding of my faith seems to be collapsing around me.
The person that I find inside does not impress me.
Has it all gone? Have you gone? What am I to do?
The advice from many is that you still love me, and that I must continue to have faith even when everything is falling apart.
Heavenly Father, advice is not the same as relationship.
I cannot pretend that love fills me when it simply does not.
I don’t want to rely on scaffolding any more.
I want you.
I want my life with you to be close and warm and genuine.
I’m reaching out to you now. Meet me in my fear and brokenness.
I need the real you now in a way that I never really understood before.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for Jesus.
Acts 27 : 27 – 30
On the fourteenth night we were still being driven across the Adriatic Sea, when about midnight the sailors sensed they were approaching land. They took soundings and found the water was one hundred and twenty feet deep. A short time later they took soundings again and found it was ninety feet deep. Fearing that we would be dashed against the rocks they dropped four anchors from the stern and prayed for daylight…
Paul’s trip was shorter than ours but just as traumatic. We’ve been in this boat for weeks and weeks, holding on to a dream of warm sand and solid ground under our feet. Very tempting to settle for the first shore in sight. We are a bit wary, though. Longing for dry land after an eternity of uncharted seas is one thing, the risky business of edging through shallow waters as we head for shore is something else.
Like millions of other people Bridget and I have tried very hard to be good as this horrible virus has confined and frightened and confused us. We would love to move from the deep to the shallows now. It would be wonderful to land. At the same time, we really do not want to make any silly mistakes. None of us do, but we are no longer in the same boat. There are as many wildly varying experiences as there are men, women and children. The thing most of us have in common is the hope of arriving at a place that is right for us, whatever that turns out to mean.
Shallow waters are very attractive. You can swim in them. You can use them to enjoy not being in a stupid boat. They can take you home. It is also true that hidden rocks can be deceptive and destructive. Tides can treacherously pull us in the wrong direction.
So there it is. Bridget and I crave destination, but if we manage to navigate our way to the first shore in sight we might explore the beach, we might even think about settling down, but we are definitely going to make sure our little boat is tied up and ready for use in case the journey needs to continue.
These are the sorts of things we shall be talking about every Friday. Join us for lots of laughs, a smattering of comments and stories from our wonderful listeners, and thoughts and reflections that will, as usual, range from deep to extraordinarily shallow.
Adrian & Bridget
A DAILY DOSE OF PONDERING IN THE MIDST OF A PANDEMIC
Listen in to Adrian & Bridget speaking each day from their home in the north of England
This summer Bridget and I will have been married for fifty years - we can hardly believe it either! We have been trying to follow Christ for even longer than that in our own rather oddly shaped fashion, facing a few crises on the way and now finding ourselves with all of you in the middle of a world pandemic.
As young Christians we were given ‘My Utmost For his Highest’, a book of Bible readings by a man called Oswald Chambers. We did try to read it. For a while we pretended that we understood what he was on about, but we gave up in the end. It might as well have been in Swahili. I hope I didn’t get too vocal about this because as the years went by I discovered that my impoverished experience and insight was slowly beginning to catch up with his wisdom. Bridget and I deeply appreciate a meditation by Chambers in which he makes the following startling suggestion:
God is not working toward a particular end — His purpose is the process itself. What He desires for me is that I see Him walking on the sea, no shore, no success, no goal in sight, but simply having the absolute certainty that everything is all right because I see him.
In other words, the safest and most useful place for believers to find themselves as they journey in their little boats is one where, however fine or inclement the weather, there is no shore in sight, and no promise or likelihood of success as the world (and a considerable portion of the modern Church) would understand the concept.
A global virus does rather sharpen the point of this particular issue, to say the least. It certainly does for us, and I expect for many of you. We are journeying in very choppy waters. Over the next few weeks we are going to have a go at regularly offering you our thoughts and fears and reflections and a few laughs, as we measure our acceptance of an idea that, to many, might look like a massive negative disguised as an essential positive. Whatever else, we will commit to telling the truth about what’s happening to us. We would love you to listen in.
After all, to mangle the metaphor, wherever we find ourselves, however far apart, we are in the same boat.
Adrian and Bridget
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“Adrian Plass’s perceptive insights into the Christian life have made me laugh on many occasions.”– Nicky Gumbel
Vicar of HTB, Alpha Course Presenter.