John 10 v 11 – 18

Staff Shortages.

Let me introduce you to my staff.

Now you may be expecting to me to introduce you to my typist, my researcher, my type setter and my distribution team , but as I don’t have any of these people at my disposal , I would only be introducing you to myself.

So, let me introduce you to my staff.

I purchased it in 2018, from a National Trust shop at Hunter’s Inn in Devon. I was on holiday with my daughter, my son in law and my two grandsons and staying at a farm near Paracombe. Leading from the farm was a footpath that eventually led to Hunter’s Inn and then on to Hells Mouth, a secluded bay and rocky outcrop jutting into the sea.

We had undertaken several walks during the week and all had terminated in a steep incline to reach the final destination. Now I really enjoy walking, – downhill, – but I’m not over keen in walking uphill especially, as so often happens, that by some act of mischief it appears that someone increases the incline of the path making it far steeper coming back than it was on the outward journey, (or so it feels).

I had noticed that some of the  more experienced and hardened walkers had enlisted the help of walking sticks, modern light- weight aluminium with plastic accessories and nylon straps to wrap around the wrists. These sticks obviously propelled the walkers up the steepest slopes as they all seemed to pass me with minimal effort. In view of this revelation I decided that it was time that I invested in this simple but apparently effective aid to my fell walking and where better to buy one than from a National Trust shop one of which happened to be at Hunter’s Inn.

Unfortunately, on searching the shop I discovered that the world and its wife had also decided to purchase the before mentioned sticks leaving only an empty rack where the sticks should have been displayed. However, not accepting defeat I rummaged around at the farthest corner of the shop and found the one and only walker’s staff. It was made of Ash, (the label said so), and was 1.6m, (5 feet) long with a metal shoe at the bottom and a hole drilled through the top to house a leather strap to go round the wrist. This was far more superior than a 1m, (3 feet) long aluminium stick with plastic appenditures, this one was the real thing and it was for me.

When I had recovered from learning the price, I paid the National Trust volunteer the money, (she gave me a complimentary bag as I had spent so much), and left the shop better prepared to face the rigours of the return journey and that soul destroying final incline.

It is surprising how walking with a staff adds to your confidence and agility and as we continued our walk towards Hells Mouth I began to depend more and more on my new purchase. The rhythm of the tap, tap of the metal tip to the staff on the stony rocks gave an assurance that we were making progress. It also became a source of annoyance to the rest of the walking group and earned me the nickname of, ‘Long John Silver’, or ‘Gandalf’ from Lord of the Rings.

It was when we ascended the steep incline leading back to the farm that the staff came into its own. Periodically I could stop and lean on the staff for support while I had a well-earned breather.

Jesus said, ‘I am the good shepherd’, not any shepherd but the good shepherd. In saying this he emphasised that he would do anything to protect his flock. He would never desert them when danger threatened; he would never leave them hungry but would lead them to the greenest pasture. He would never see them lost or not knowing which way to go and would lay down his life for each one of his sheep.

The Shepherd always has his staff or crook and Christian art often depicts Jesus as the good shepherd with his staff ready to guide and protect, support and lead us through life and its storms. The hired shepherds work only for money and don’t own or care for the flock. When danger comes they will run away and leave the flock to the mercy of the wolves, but Jesus never abandons his sheep, he knows each one as his father, (God) knows him and he knows the father.

In the autumn of 2018 I returned to Paracombe, along with my trusty staff, by myself and spent a few days walking the footpaths. While walking a narrow road I came across a herd of sheep, (well two or three) that had escaped from their field. By stretching out my arms and my staff, doing my best Adam Henson on BBC Countryfile impersonation, I helped the farmer retrieve the escapees.

I’m relieved it was not his bull that had escaped.   

Derek T.

Nehemiah 2 v 1 – 5

Ireland – From Darkness to Light

There are many aspects of Ireland that fascinate me, I love Irish music, the intoxicating   blend of Irish pipes, fiddle and drums. The Irish language, as with the Welsh tongue, is lyrical and from the throat so different to the English. I find the Celtic influence intriguing particularly in their art and religion but also I find the past turbulent history of the Irish people both interesting and disturbing. From battles with invaders, to famine and persecution, to mass exodus to other lands and the internal turmoil of recent years, throughout history I think the people of Ireland can best be described as bruised but never broken.

Despite my interest in Ireland, I have never visited the South but I have journeyed to the North of Ireland on three separate occasions.

My first visit was in the mid-1970s at a time when the involvement of British troops as peace keepers was at its height. Along with one or two other youth leaders I accompanied a group of teenagers, who had successfully won their way to the finals of a national quiz organised by the Methodist Association of Youth Clubs, (MAYC), to the previous year’s quiz winners in Northern Ireland.  

The finals were held in a place called Dungannon, not too far from Belfast. We flew from Luton airport to Belfast, and then boarded a coach for the short journey through the city to a boarding school in Dungannon which would serve as our accommodation and the quiz venue.

Driving through Belfast it was hard not to notice the boarded up shops, bars and restaurants that had been the victims of the bombers and similarly in Dungannon we passed the burnt out shell of what had been the main post office. Evidence of the army presence was unavoidable with fortified towers and barbed wire in the streets of some parts of the town. One evening we came across an army patrol moving through the town centre. The soldiers looked to be not much older than the teenagers we had brought to the quiz.

The atmosphere in the town felt very uncomfortable although there was nothing that could have been interpreted as being threatening, in fact the enthusiasm and hospitality of the Irish organisers was second to none.

My second and third visits were both to the City of Belfast, the first to a National Conference and the second to a ‘Core Cities’ meeting representing Nottingham City Council. These visits were in the early 2000s and the difference that thirty odd years had made was remarkable. The centre of the City had been transformed since my Dungannon experience, with new shopping complexes, leisure facilities, hotels and a state of the art conference centre which doubled as music venue and during our visits there was no sign of any military presence, or was it that we were we not taken to the relevant areas of the City?

Nehemiah was a troubled soul. He was living at a time when the Jewish nation had been scattered across Babylonia, with only a few ‘undesirables’ left in the ruins of Jerusalem. Nehemiah had been fortunate insofar as he was serving the King in his palace as a wine waiter (slave), but his thoughts constantly took him back to the city of his ancestors.

When news reached him from Jerusalem to say that despite the passage of many years no work had been done to restore or rebuild the ruins, he was devastated. He knew that God was calling him to return and rebuild the City walls but would the king permit him to leave the palace and go? Not only did the king give his permission for Nehemiah to go, but he also gave him letters of authorisation in order to obtain materials to complete the work.

We could say that Nehemiah is the patron saint of project managers as he successfully returned to Jerusalem and in the power of God he organised teams of people to rebuild the City walls, despite facing opposition from rebels.

When the work was complete the scattered nation could return to the place of their ancestors and their spiritual home where God could reside with them again.

After the quiz in Dungannon, which incidentally we lost, we returned to Belfast via a visit to a Peat Bog, where we viewed some artefacts that had been uncovered then boarded the plane to return to Luton .On arrival we were met by anxious parents as it transpired that after we had left Dungannon for the Peat Bog there was an incident in the town that was reported on UK television news.

We were oblivious to the event but parents were very aware of it. 

Derek T.

Judges 7 v 1 – 8

Take up Your Arms.

I have just completed reading Captain Sir Tom Moore’s autobiography which is a fascinating read. Although there are obvious differences, there are many parallels between his life experiences and those of my own father. I suppose it is inevitable in many ways due to their similar age and therefore generation.

Both were Yorkshire men, Capt. Tom being born in Keighley and my dad being born in Barnsley but moving to Bradford, a stone throw from Keighley. Both had suffered bereavements at an early age, my dad lost his mother and sister while Capt. Tom lost his uncle.

I have to admit I know very little about my dad’s childhood, I don’t think he shared a great deal even in conversation when we worked together. I know his father, (my Big Grandad), remarried after the death of his first wife, and had quite a large family to his second wife creating a second generation of siblings to my dad and his immediate brothers and sisters.

As was the case with most men and boys in the Barnsley area at that time it was expected that as soon as age permitted they finished up underground in the coal mines, (down t’pit) or at best working on the surface but still at the colliery and dad was no exception.

Then comes another parallel with Capt. Tom, motorbikes.

Dad used to tell the stories of his adventures on his Matchless 1000cc bike as a youth with similar experiences to Capt. Tom on his motorbike. I think dad still had his bike when he met my mum but I don’t recall either of them indicating that mum ever rode on it. It is interesting that despite dad’s passion for motorbikes, he strictly forbade me from having one. To this day although I have driven most types of four wheeled vehicles, I have never ridden on a motorbike.

Similar to Capt. Tom, dad’s passion for motorbikes was pivotal in his role in world war two. Dad used to tell the tale that after conscription and basic training; officers asked if any of the new recruits could drive. Dad put up his hand but failed to disclose that he had only ever driven a motorcycle. He along with one or two other men, were taken to one side and presented with the keys to an extremely large tank transporter, which was a very big articulated lorry specifically designed to carry tanks. For the majority of the war, dad, and his tank transporter, where in North Africa transporting new tanks to the front line and bringing damaged tanks back for repair.

Captain Tom, first had command of a tank then moved to be an instructor in tank warfare, but he was stationed in Burma.

There was a time when dad was re-introduced to a motorcycle but details of this escapade were always sketchy both from dad when he was alive and research after his death. It involved dad acting as a dispatch rider on a motorcycle but whatever the purpose behind the operation or the eventual result of the action was never revealed. It earned dad a mention in dispatches and he was honoured with an Oak Leaf to add to his medals.

I noted that Capt. Tom also had a similar experience as a dispatch rider for which he was also decorated for his actions.

On de-mob dad chose not to return to his previous employment and attended a rehabilitation course in building construction at Thorpe Arch near Harrogate, something that was to be the blueprint for his employment for the rest of his life.

Dad and his three brothers started a building business called, ‘Turton Brothers’ and carried out building work across the Yorkshire area. In the early 1950s dad decided to go it alone and formed his own business which he ran until retirement. Capt. Tom on the other hand returned to his father’s building business.

If we read the Bible, Judges 7 v 1 – 8, we see there were even stranger methods of selecting suitable soldiers for battles. Judges describes the period in Israel’s history after the death of Moses and Joshua, but prior to the introduction of their monarchy. Over this period several notable people established themselves as great leaders and ‘heroes’, (Judges) of the Jewish nation. One such leader, (Judge), was Gideon.

Gideon had the unenviable task of facing the mighty army of the Midianites and he started to recruit his own army to attack the enemy camp. He achieved in assembling a force of 22,000 soldiers before God intervened, instructing him that if he followed God’s instructions there would be no need for an army of that size. When the army would have victory they would claim it for themselves and not accept that it was down to God’s power that they succeeded. God wanted an army of just 300 men to destroy the Midianites, and then it would be clear to everyone that God is powerful.

The selection process involved taking out all those who were afraid, those who did not want to be there, and those who drank water from the river in a certain way, (lapped the water up with their tongues). Eventually God had selected 300 men from the original 22,000 for Gideon’s army.

Gideon followed God’s instructions and armed his men with a trumpet and a glass jar containing a torch and by creating fear and confusion they drove the Midianites into frenzy and they began to fight amongst themselves.

Notwithstanding the fact that dad rode a motorcycle, drove a tank transporter, drove army surplus trucks and vans for the business and a car for himself, he never passed a driving test , – and you could tell.

His driving licence came from the army and entitled him to drive just about everything.

Derek T.

Job 1 v 13 – 22

It’s not God’s Fault

Bill Brown gazed wistfully at his new car parked on his new drive. It was all that he had secretly wished for but never dreamed that he would own. It was a bright red Mercedes that glinted in the sunshine. The paintwork resplendent and highly polished while the chrome glistened and reflected like mirrors. The sleek lines of the sculptured body swept Bill’s eyes from the front to the rear of the car absorbing every angle and curve. It was a million miles away from the Ford Fiesta that he had previously owned for the past twenty years.

He lifted his gaze to take in his new house that provided the perfect backdrop that framed the car as if in a portrait. The house was a four bedroomed detached property over- looking Headingly Cricket Ground. Bill and his wife Marjorie had purchased it a year ago but had only just moved in. It was so different to the three bedroomed semi-detached that they had left in Armley on the outskirts of Leeds, but, everything in life was now so different to those days living there.

Five years had passed since Bill opened his redundancy letter from United Insurance and he had filled that time by dedicating himself to writing his books. To his surprise he had become a very successful author and no longer could he be considered as average. So why, as he gazed upon the fruits of his success, did he feel anything but happy. Why, deep down, did he wish to return to being, Bill Brown, (Post Dept.) United Insurance.

So many events had overtaken him in those fleeting five years. His son, Bill, had left to attend university in Edinburgh where he had passed out with a commendable degree in Chemical Engineering but rather than return home, he decided to stay on for further studies and after successfully obtaining employment with oil company chose to remain north of the border.

Bill’s daughter Susan left home for Bristol University and is now studying for a BA in Liberal Arts. While at Bristol she met and fell in love with a young man and now shares a rented flat with him.

Bill had contemplated many times how quiet the house had become without the children, and he found himself missing their youthful banter and even their teenage problems.

Two years ago Bill’s wife Marjorie was called to urgently visit her elderly mother who had suffered a major fall. Unfortunately, due to her age, the fall resulted in serious injuries from which Marjorie’s mother could not recover and she sadly passed away in hospital.  Since then Marjorie had been withdrawn and suffering from depression. Despite great effort Bill had found it difficult to communicate with Marjorie and did not know how to deal with the situation.

Bill had discovered success in writing, success in a new career, success in financial security but he constantly yearned for the happier times when he was Mr. Average.

The Book of Job is the story of a good man who suffers total disaster. He was rich in every sense of the word, materially, spiritually and through his family. Most of all he was a righteous man who tried to fulfil all his responsibilities to God in his way of life and in accordance with God’s will.

Just when Job was congratulating himself on being so successful and obviously in God’s favour, disaster struck.

In just one day Job lost all his oxen and donkeys in a terrorist attack that also claimed the lives of his servants. In another attack he lost all his camels and also those servants but even worse was to come as in a freak wind storm all his family were killed and Job was on his own.

Despite all these disasters Job never lost his faith in God even when his friends tried to mislead him with poor advice, although, Job found it difficult to comprehend why the disasters were happening to him when he had been such a righteous man. He questioned God and begged for an answer but even in his questioning he never blamed God for his demise and accepted that bad times will fall upon all people at some time, and it is not God’s fault.

Eventually God blessed the last part of Job’s life in recognition of Job’s faithfulness and he lived to a very great age and had another large family. Also his wealth was reinstated even greater than before.  

Bill Brown sat at his desk, opened an A4 ledger, picked up his pen and began to write.

‘It’s not God’s Fault’

An autobiography, by Bill Brown

Derek T.

Romans 8 v 38 – 39

Stick to me Like Glue

In 2020 my son in law and his brother and sister, decided to launch a new venture by taking over an empty shop unit in our village and opening a DIY store. The shop unit had previously been a Building Society so many of the fixtures and fittings could be retained and as COVID restrictions at the time permitted, I went to help with the erection of racking, shelving and display stands which then needed filling with the products that were for sale.

When the shop opened I spent some time guiding customers around the sales area and advising on various products. A lifetime in the construction industry began to pay off and I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years, unfortunately COVID restrictions eventually put a stop to my involvement.

One thing that did impress me about the shop was the vast range of products that are available for those people who wish to do home improvements for themselves. Take adhesives for an example.  There are a multitude of adhesive products suited for every conceivable situation. Wallpaper adhesives for light weight papers, heavy weight papers, water proof papers, and even an adhesive that is coloured pink so that you can ensure that everywhere that needs to be pasted has been pasted.

I can remember a song about when father papered the parlour, you couldn’t see him for paste.

There are adhesives that will stick anything to anything including fingers to fingers if the necessary safety precautions are not complied with.

But it can get confusing. I had a customer who came into the shop asking for glue that would stick glass. I showed them a couple of suitable products, and then I remembered a range of adhesives with a trade name of Gorilla. I am sure that one of these would be suitable, I assured them, and Gorilla is a very good product.

The look of disgust on their face was unmistakable and the reply was that rainforests were being destroyed by that stuff. As the logic behind the statement escaped me I moved on to the Evo Stick.

All of today’s modern adhesives are very efficient and convenient, some in tubes with dispensers and most ready to use. Many years ago I can remember my dad boiling up a solid block of glue in a pan in our cellar at home when he was making window frames. The smell was revolting.

 I can also remember a TV advertisement for well-known wallpaper adhesive where a pair of overalls was pasted to a board, a man climbed into them, and he was lifted up by a helicopter to demonstrate the strength of the product. I always admired the man’s faith in the product, or was all a trick?

In Paul’s letter to the believers in Rome he reassures them of the power of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ which will adhere them to God. Romans Chapter 8 verses 38 to 39 is the culmination of Paul’s explanation of how faith in Jesus ensures that nothing can separate us from the love of God.

Paul is anxious that the believers may feel insecure about God’s love when they replace the Law of Moses with their belief in Jesus Christ so he searches and lists everything in life that could be seen to alienate us from God. His list includes, trouble, hardship, persecution, hunger, poverty, danger and death.                                                                                                  He concludes that only sin could isolate us from God’s love but sin had been overcome by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross. God sent his only son to be the sacrifice that will give us salvation.

The outcome of Paul’s search is to prove without doubt that nothing can separate us from the love of God. No other message can give us more security and hope for the future than that.

Noel and Tricia Richards wrote these words in their song of praise,

Now by God’s grace we have embraced

A life set free from sin

We shall deny all that destroys

Our union with him

Nothing shall separate us from the love of God.

Years ago while at college I visited a factory that produced a specific type of glue from animal bones. The process involved boiling the bones of animals to extract a basic ingredient of the glue. The smell was unbelievable and even worse than my dad in the cellar at home.

I wonder if the customer in the shop thought that they boiled up Gorilla bones to make Gorilla glue????

I’m sure they don’t.

Derek T.

Micah 5 v 1-5; Isaiah 53 v 4- 9; Isaiah 61 v 1- 2.

Great Expectations.

I have to admit that I was never a fan of Charles Dickens novels when I was a youngster.         I think they were a bit too dark and depressing, although I do recall we touched on Oliver Twist in senior school English Literature lesson, but I preferred the musical version.

However, recently I watched a television programme on BBC 4 where a presenter dissected a classic novel and analysed what the author was actually saying.  One of the books featured was Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations.

I was fascinated to learn that within the files of one of our universities, they have the original hand written manuscript of Dickens’s notes of the book. Apparently, the book started its life as a love story but in the words of the programme presenter, ‘Love stories were not Dickens’s forte’, so he changed it into a sort of mystery story. Consequently, large sections of the original text had been crossed out and re-written. One such section was the opening chapter.

The original opening of the book placed the main character, Pip, in an orphanage having lost his parents. The published version placed Pip in a graveyard at night, (what did I say about being dark and depressing?), where he is accosted by a terrifying escaped convict called Abel Magwitch, who demands that Pip goes off and steals him some food.

The story then develops as Pip becomes the recipient of a mysterious legacy and takes the opportunity to learn how to be a gentleman. The love story bit returns when Pip strikes up a relationship with a strange character called, Miss Havisham and her adopted daughter, Estella, a cold, very proud but beautiful young lady of Pip’s age. At this stage all the evidence misleadingly points to Miss Havisham being Pip’s mystery benefactor.

Through twists and turns, including the murder of Pip’s sister, we eventually discover the true identity of the benefactor of Pip’s finances and move towards the end of the story, which suffered many crossing out and re-writing in the original manuscript.

In true Dickensian style, his first ending was depressing and involved the death of several characters, including Miss Havisham being killed in a fire. Estella was married twice and was not happy, while Pip remained single, and was not happy.  However, in the final version, although the death count remained the same, Pip and Estella are brought back together and there is a vague suggestion that they may be successfully joined at some time in the future.

Another interesting fact is that when the book was first published, it was in the form of a serial, almost like EastEnders’s or Coronation Street, each instalment published in a newspaper owned by Dickens. Each episode left the reader in a cliff hanging suspense as to what happened next. This was to encourage readers to buy the next episode and the ploy was undoubtedly successful as sales of the newspaper reached an unprecedented high and saved it from bankruptcy.

The analysis of the book asked the question, ‘Who was the subject of the Great Expectation?’ Was it Pip, Estella, the benefactor or Pip and Estella together? I will leave you in cliff hanging suspense.

There is no doubt of the expectation on the shoulders of our Lord Jesus Christ. His path through his ministry and to the cross had been written centuries before his birth. The manuscript suffered no alterations or re-writing and the ending was always predicted and in accordance with God’s will.

The prophet Micah predicted the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem and his genealogy to King David. The prediction gave great expectation not only to the people of Israel but to all people on the earth who will see the greatness of God and will experience peace through the Messiah Jesus Christ.

Isaiah 61, places the great expectation of salvation firmly on the shoulders of Jesus. These words from the Old Testament were used by Jesus himself to describe his ministry, to bring good news to the poor, heal the broken hearted, release captives, give the prisoners freedom, and release all believers from the power of sin.

There would be opportunities for Jesus to re-write his destiny, to take away the cup of poison and to avoid that ultimate journey to the cross, but he followed his Father’s will and fulfilled the prophecy to give up his life so that we can have life.

I feel strangely warmed in the knowledge that Charles Dickens crossed out his thoughts and re-wrote his manuscripts. I have re-written this Pause for Thought three times.  

Derek T.

1 Corinthians 1v 2; Psalm 30 v 4

Outstanding

Recently, I received a telephone call from my eldest daughter. She was commuting to work and had heard a funny story on the radio and she seemed anxious to share it with me. The story was, why was the scarecrow recognised in the Queens Honours List? And the answer was, because it was outstanding in his field!

The strange sense of humour obviously runs in the family, but it did make me think how society does recognise the achievements of people who have made an outstanding contribution in their field or speciality over their lifetime.

The Queen’s, (or King’s),honours list has for centuries recognised and honoured gallantry in battle, but has also recognised individuals who have given themselves for the benefit of others. Captain Sir Tom Moore is a perfect example of someone who through his extraordinary efforts in raising millions of pounds for the NHS during the COVID crisis, has been honoured in this way. Sadly he passed away shortly before I produced this reflection.

Another source of recognition is by way of being awarded a Nobel Prize, which may be a little less familiar to many of us. These prizes are a product of a Swedish inventor and industrialist, Alfred Nobel, who on his death in 1895, bequeathed an allocation in his will to enable an annual prize to be awarded to, ‘Those who during the preceding year, have conferred the greatest benefit to human kind’.

There are five separate categories for Nobel prizes, which are; 1) Chemistry, 2) Physics,       3) Physiology or Medicine, 4) Literature, and 5) Peace.                                                            Nobel prizes differ insofar as they can be awarded to individuals, groups or even charitable organisations. An example is The International Committee of the Red Cross which has been the recipient of a Nobel Peace Prize on three separate occasions.

Although the scale and enormity of the Nobel Prize may be out of reach to most of us, and the selection process a bit secretive, some other recognition awards are widely publicised and enjoy the limelight of the press and other media. We have all witnessed the BAFTA and similar awards on our television screens, with all the glitter and glamour that we associate with the world of films, cinema and the arts, and the emotionally charged acceptance speeches of the recipients. In this case the industry itself is recognising exceptional skills, talents and personal efforts that have made an impact on the stage and screen.

Regardless of where in society an award or recognition has emanated it goes without saying that generally it is considered to be a great honour to be a recipient and to be aware that your work and achievements have been recognised and appreciated.

So, if it is a great honour to receive recognition in the secular world, how much more of an honour will it be to receive a similar recognition for contributing to the work of God through our Lord Jesus Christ?

In the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church a saint is a holy person who is known for his or her heroic sanctity. Saints are people from all walks of life who have dedicated their lives to the loving pursuit of God. Many, like St. Stephen were persecuted for their faith and ultimately forfeited their lives, while others like St. Mother Teresa worked tirelessly and devoted themselves to the service to the poor and disenfranchised.

The Bible contains many references to sainthood, and none are more prevalent than in Paul’s letters to his churches. He emphasises that scripturally speaking the saints are the body of Christ, therefore all Christians can be considered to be, and called to be, saints.

1 Corinthians 1 v 2 states that, ‘To the church of God in Corinth, to those sanctified and holy,’ in other words to the saints in Corinth.

Similarly in Psalm 30 v 4 the Psalmist tells us to, ‘Sing praises to the Lord O you his saints, and give thanks to his holy name.’

If we, as followers of Christ, are considered to be as saints called into his church, how honoured are we to be offered such an accolade and be privileged to do God’s work in our world.

However, Paul also preaches that for him there is no accolade greater than to be recognised as an apostle of Christ and there is no reward greater than see people brought to Jesus Christ through Paul’s preaching. We do not carry out God’s work for prizes, we do it for love of Jesus Christ and everything he did for us.

My dad had a great respect for the Monarchy and the honours list but he was shaken when pop stars, notably the Rolling Stones, received theirs. Dad’s favourite comment was, ‘If you gave them a pick and shovel they wouldn’t know what to do with it.’

O for the generation gap.

Derek T.

Daniel 7 v 1 – 14

Full Steam Ahead

The impact of the COVID restrictions has obviously had an effect on everything that we had become accustomed in our everyday lives. For me one of the frustrating issues has been the inability to indulge in my hobby of displaying my vintage tractors and classic car at the local rallies. In the past year every scheduled enthusiast’s meeting has been cancelled and several of those in the near future have already been abandoned. 

I know that in the big picture this minor inconvenience could be considered as insignificant, but never the less, it is still frustrating.

Although I enjoy taking my own vehicles, I also enjoy looking at the other exhibits, in particular the steam fairground engines. They are big, majestic, and powerful and yet when they are stationary they appear to be gentle, docile and almost timid, hiding all that power and energy behind highly polished brass and chrome and delicate artistic paintwork.

But my attraction and admiration of steam engines has not always been the case.

I can recall as a very young lad, holding onto my dad’s hand in Bradford Foster Square Railway Station and I was screaming my head off in fear of a steam train. I can remember the occasion quire clearly but not the reason why we were there. It was not to go on a journey so possibly we were meeting someone, but whatever the reason I was definitely not happy.    

In my eyes the steam engine was enormous and was belching out steam and smoke as if it was a giant dragonish monster. The air was filled with putrid sulphur smelling coal smoke and periodically an ear splitting hiss of pressurised steam would pierce my ear drums and then reverberate around the Victorian cathedral like station platform area.

Then, even worse was to come. The beast started to move, emitting thunderous explosions of smoke from the firebox, and high pressure steam into the pistons to force the wheels into motion. In that snapshot in time the world of that young lad had descended into a nightmare of smoke, steam, deafening sound and a fire breathing monster advancing towards him, and above all the turmoil my dad was shouting, ‘ Look son a steam train.’

This was no train; it was a dragon, sent to destroy us all but only I could see it.

Ironically, some seventy years later, my attraction to steam engines is the smoke, the steam, the smell, the sounds and the sheer presence of these giant monsters. They were a product of an age that revelled in extravagant engineering. Steam was the fulcrum of the industrial revolution in the Victorian era changing the direction of industry and travel not only in this country, but also across the mechanised world, only to be superseded by advanced technology and alternative fuels such as petrol, diesel and electricity.

Although now in retirement, the age of steam is not deceased and in the past ten years at least two brand new stream locomotives have been manufactured and can be seen touring the country, (before COVID). Ever increasing miles (Kilometres) of railway lines have been restored by enthusiasts in order to display these dragons of the past, but it has to be said that although my enthusiasm for steam is undoubtedly strong, in my mind it still takes me back to Bradford Foster Square Station’s demonic dragon all those years ago.

Visions and dreams of multi-headed fearsome beasts and monsters are common in the Bible particularly in describing apocalyptic or cataclysmic events or prophecies and the book of Daniel is a good example of this kind of symbolism. It was written at a time when the Jews were suffering and living in constant fear of a pagan tyrant king and needed assurance that God had not forsaken them.

The Book of Daniel starts with his ability to interpret the King’s, (Nebuchadnezzar) dreams most significantly a dream of a man made of gold, silver and bronze but in Chapter 7 Daniel’s role changes to be more prophetic. His vision describes four beasts rising from the sea and although the beasts relate back to the metal man earlier in Daniel 2, they all represent a terror that disturbs Daniel greatly.

It is a prophecy of five future Kingdoms;

The first is of a winged lion which represents the Babylonian Empire of Nebuchadnezzar.             The second is that of a stooping Bear which represents the Persian Empire which will overcome the Babylonians.                                                                                                                          The third is a winged four headed leopard which represents the Greek and Macedonian Empire.                                                                                                                                                         The fourth is a fierce creature that was previously unknown, as strong as iron with the ability to crush anything underfoot. This represents the Roman Empire.                                         There is a fifth and final Kingdom which is that of the Messiah, one like the Son of Man descending with the clouds of Heaven (verse 13).

Although Daniel’s vision depicted hard times and suffering to come, it also reassured and comforted both him and the Jewish nation, in that God’s Kingdom through Jesus Christ will prevail over all evil.

My dad bought me a Tri-ang 00 gauge electric railway engine with four carriages and a coal tender. It ran on an oval shaped line and I bought myself a model water tank and a signal box.

Much better than the real thing.

Derek T.

Mark 1 v 40 – 45; 2 Kings 5 v 9 – 19.

Believe it or Not

A couple of weeks ago I joined two or three hundred other people at four thirty in the afternoon, to descend on Derby Arena, a sports centre and music venue on the outskirts of Derby.

Just to make it clear, we were not attending an illegal, ‘Rave’, and it was in compliance with COVID restrictions.

We were all gradually making our way, in 2m intervals, towards having our COVID vaccination.

As I was moving slowly but steadily towards the appointed chair, I began to realise that I actually knew very little about the substance that was shortly to be injected into my arm.

I knew nothing about its chemical content, I knew nothing about how it will circulate around my body, and I didn’t even know what it looked like.

So why did I believe that this act of vaccination could save my life and perhaps more importantly, save the lives of other people?

Many years ago, I was involved in MAYC, (Methodist Association of Youth Clubs) and helped to organise Youth Weekends and workshops for young Christians. During some of the workshops we played a game which involved having one minute to explain to others why we passionately believed in something. This varied from football, and pop music, to fashion and food, but the most difficult one for our young people to explain, was why they believed in Jesus.

 After all everything we believe in Jesus is humanly impossible.

Jesus died on the cross, was buried, and on the third day he was raised from the dead, left the tomb and met with his disciples. He met them, not as a ghostly vision, but as flesh and blood. He ate and drank with the disciples.

There is no wonder the young Christians had a problem in explaining their belief.

We advised our young people to look at the evidence.

 The Bible gives all the evidence we need, from different people at different times, and from different perspectives, but all giving the same message, that Jesus Christ is the Messiah, the Son of God and through belief in him we are saved.

The indisputable facts are what Jesus has done for each one of us on a personal level. Jesus has changed lives, given strength when we were weak, given hope when despair had taken hope away.

 Everything that Jesus has done for us is evidence that cannot be disputed.

In Marks Gospel, (Mark 1 v 40 to 45) we learn about a man with a dreaded skin disease who came to Jesus and begged him to make him clean, to heal him of the dreaded disease.

He was probably a Leper so would have been isolated from society so his visit to Jesus is surprising in itself.

We don’t know if the man had met with Jesus before, or heard Jesus preaching, or just heard from other people about Jesus, but we know that this man believed that Jesus could and would heal him.

There was no doubt in his mind, he knew because he believed, and because he believed he was healed.

The man believed that Jesus was the Son of God with the power to heal and the power to end the man’s misery.

 He approached Jesus with reverence, kneeling before him, he was desperate imploring Jesus to make him clean but he was humble by saying, ‘If you are willing to heal me’. It was a personal request to Jesus and Jesus made a personal response.

 Jesus reached out his hand; – just think – the hand of God reaching out to answer a believer’s prayer.

Jesus told the man not to publicize how he had been healed but to go directly to the Priest who was the only person who could declare the man healed.

Unfortunately as so often is the case, the man was so excited over meeting with Jesus and being healed that he shouted from the rooftops.

Naaman in Kings, (2 Kings 5 v 9 to 19) on the other hand was not so sure, and I’m not convinced that that he really believed that Elisha could heal him, but he thought it was worth a try.

He was even less convinced when Elisha didn’t even come out of his tent to see Naaman. He just sent a servant with a message, and it took considerable persuasion to get Naaman to bathe seven times in the Jorden. But when he did, he was healed and then he believed.

Unlike the man in Marks Gospel, Naaman needed the evidence before he believed.

Blessed are those who believe.

I can confirm that I had my vaccination and contrary to popular belief, my arm did not drop off, neither did I suffer from any of the multitude of side effects that other people had warned me about.

I just have to wait until April for the second instalment.

Derek T.

Genesis 8 v 6 – 12

Hello Duck

We have experienced a few weeks of inclement weather recently, heavy rain and quite heavy snow, which has resulted in the ground being saturated. My front garden has standing water in the flower beds; however, the rear garden has suffered even worse.

I have 50 to 75 mm, (2 to 3 inches) of standing water over the majority of my lawn and the path leading up to the dry stone wall that i built last summer.

I always fancied a swimming pool but not just like this one.

In the past I have had a number of welcome visitors into my garden including, Hedgehogs, Woodpeckers, Pheasants, Foxes, and on two occasions Buzzards from the local Country Park. However, the flooded terrain has attracted something that I have not seen before in my garden.

Two ducks.

It could be argued that ducks are not unusual but these two were white ducks, the kind that are often seen in farmyards and I suspect that their ability to fly great distances is limited.

When COVID permits, I regularly don my walking boots and walk across the fields at the rear of my house and visit Locko Park, a private country park with public access. The centre piece of the park is the large mansion house, Locko Hall, but for me the large lake is far more interesting, particularly the water fowl that either resides on or around the water, or visits seasonally.

I find that standing beneath a large Willow tree looking out across the lake and observing the life on the water unfold before me to be extremely spiritual. This has been the source and inspiration of many a sermon in the past. I can understand when experts tell us that walking in the countryside and particularly beside water can be beneficial to our mental wellbeing.

On my visits to the lake I have regularly spotted a multitude of species of water fowl all with their own characters, some of which reflect that of many human equivalents.

There is the Grey Heron who is the sergeant major, shoulders back, chest out, head up, standing to attention on the island in the middle of the lake. It must have a nest close by and stands guard like a soldier on guard duty. He keeps a close eye on the RAF Heavy Bomber Squadron that approach in formation from the fields at the rear of the hall.

 These are the Canada Geese that come in low with their feet down like undercarriage, and then hit the water with a confusion of exploding spray that obliterates the birds for a second before they settle down.  I can imagine a, ‘Dam Buster’ type of conversion passing between them as they approach; ‘Red Leader calling, Target in view, right chaps I ‘m going in.’ and then the reply, ‘Blue Leader – Roger Red Leader we’re right behind you.’

All this excitement does not impress the Mallard Ducks; they are far too busy chatting up and trying to impress the girls. The boys have dressed up especially for the occasion, with their best suits on. Their colourful plumage with red, green and yellow makes them irresistible to the ladies, or so they think. They paddle around the girls showing off and dipping their heads in the water then shaking off the water droplets.

 ‘Are you dancing? ‘Then the reply.

 ‘Are you asking?’

Just like the Majestic Ballroom in Bradford on a Saturday night in the 1960s

The Crested Grebe always impresses me. It has a stature and a design that is perfect for its survival. Its long pointed beak, slender sleek body, and an ability to hold its breath longer that any scuba diver gives it the advantage over other competitors for the food in the lake.

It could be the nuclear submarine of the lake.

When its sensitive radar detects food under the surface its brain cries out, ‘Dive, dive, dive.’  And it disappears in a flash beneath the waves with hardly a ripple on the surface, but where will it resurface? I scan the area of its disappearance through my binoculars but never predict the right place; it always resurfaces in another part of the lake.

Genesis 8 v 6 – 12

Noah had a dilemma, the water was receding and his boat had come to rest but as no other land was visible around him he knew he must be on a mountain top and not on low land.

How could he discover the extent of the land that was available? He sent out a Raven but Ravens live in high places and do not need low lands. The Raven never returned.

Noah sent out a Dove who feeds on the ground but it found no ground to feed on so it returned. After several further attempts the Dove discovered food only available at a low dry level, a young Olive branch.

Noah knew the flood was over and it was safe to disembark.

I opened my Patio doors and accidentally scared the white ducks off; however, they did not fly away. They just waddled off through a gap in the fence and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Ah well I will have buy ducks eggs after all.

Derek T.