Monday dawned bright, clear and sun-blue; it was one of those rare early summer days in England. It was also my day off, after the blessing of Sunday. I often awake with ideas or thoughts about the previous day’s sermon, and how it could have been developed better and the PowerPoint slides made simpler. It is hard to resist opening the programme and making corrections, and concurrently there is a jostling for competition by thoughts about the next week’s article for HICC Bits.
However, bearing in mind my comments the day previously about creative fidelity, we go to Kingston, a market town, nestling on the river Thames. The old and new buildings form an appealing hard landscape, enjoyed by many as they sit in the centre dinking their beverages and enjoying the ambience created by time and industry. We stroll in the sun enjoying the casual almost rude waste of time, absorbing the warmth and anticipating the summer in its glory which we hope will arrive; possibly that Monday was the harbinger of good climate to come?
We head towards the river, and amble along holding hands and chatting. As we linger along the concrete edging peering into the brown waters the Queen’s swans gather to be fed, but we carry no food and they swim away, no doubt disgusted at our lack! Then we spot a Moorhen snuggled down in her nest, built in a motorbike tyre and floating adjacent to a flat boat fixed to a buoy. No doubt this is a mark of her ingenuity and industry; taking the discarded flotsam of man and nature and incubating new life. A hundred metres away we notice a landing jetty and underneath two more Moorhens are building their nest. A large branch from a river-bank tree had broken off, lodged under the planks and they are fetching and carrying twigs, one fetches and one builds then they reverse and the other builds while the first fetches. We sit on a brick wall and watch.
Then, we reverse our steps towards the town centre and discuss new life in the church; are we doing all that is needed and required for the people we are privileged to serve. How can we, like that Moorhen, make something out of nothing that is an ingenious move of God’s Spirit? What have we done over the years and what will we do in the years to come to see birth in the kingdom. Our undivided aim has always been to see salvation in the house and change in individual lives. We are a multinational crowd, and some who were the flotsam and jetsam of humanity thrown out by man have been rescued and used by God; a floating tyre here and a broken branch there, both moved by the currents of time and society but, out of that, new life has been manifest; out of nothing spectacular so to speak a miracle has been born.
As we sat and others stood watching this act of construction, my mind went back to the early morning. I had walked in my garden and then sat eating my breakfast out there in the sun enjoying the change of venue. I noticed how still everything was; I looked at the silence and the silence looked back, and it was like that as we were on the tow-path, it was as if nature was observing this building project as the two birds hurriedly made their future nursery. When Halford House, our early church building was demolished, we salvaged five chimney pots, and they now stand in my flower border, silent terracotta sentinels destined for summer glory. We insert a small pot in the top and plant cascading flowers in them, either trailing geraniums or begonias.
They could well have been taken away and thrown carelessly into a land-fill site, buried underneath tons of household rubbish, but 104 years later they still stand, not emitting smoke and soot, but displaying the wonder of English annuals. Other plants grow around them, so peeping out of that display amidst the herbaceous plants and acacia trees is this bright touch of colour at about waist level; striking yet just part of the plan.
The writer of the Song of Solomon depicts the walking habits of the oriental king: “My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.” [Song 6:2], and in another part: “I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the vine flourished, and the pomegranates budded” [Song 6:11]. If he came to mine he would see that the rescued pots are integral in the design, and the church is the garden of the Lord, and standing tall and strong often there are old pots destined for demolition but are still standing, bearing the marks of time, but yet also the glory of new foliage and flowers; God’s plan indeed.
