There was a bible knocking about while I was a child, which I think belonged to me. Presumably the gift of some well-meaning relation, back in the mists of time - in fact, I've a feeling I know which one, of my long-departed great aunts. A King James, authorised version. Written as it is in old-fashioned language, it meant very little to me as a child - words often having been used quite differently to how they are now; and so most of the time it gathered dust: just a book with a slightly floppy, black cover that extended over the gold-edged pages that was also to be found in the darker shelves and recesses of equally dusty old Sunday School buildings, and suchlike. I've a feeling it may still be lurking somewhere in my mother's attic, as I have set eyes upon it or something very similar, within living memory...
Then at some point in the 1970s, I acquired a Good News Bible. I've a feeling it was probably launched around that time, and the school I was at promoted various book clubs, from which I made a few purchases, of which it may have been one. Its cover was bright and golden with large font lettering and some illustration, and its pages omitted most of the thees and thous that seemed to dominate the confusing tomes of my old bible! I may have read a few little passages from time to time - but with no direct religious instruction or encouragement by that point in my life, I'd no idea where to start in such a hugely thick book - the thickest and scariest book that not only I, but that almost all of my known family seemed to posess; and before long it began to gather the dust, too.
Though it did have the occasional outing! Even if I didn't actually read it much, I did recognise its value - together with that of at least occasional church attendance - boring in the extreme though that mostly was; and I actually quite valued the odd occasions where we'd learn hymns at school - mainly at the beginning and ends of terms. I think most of my contemporaries thought this most odd - but I didn't really care; to me there was a cause worth holding onto and if necessary, defending...
In my early teens I used to run away from home a lot. Eventually, this attracted the attentions of various authorities including child psychiatrists; and before long I was running away from hospital, too. There used to be an advert on TV around that time - one of those public-information type ones, about hypothermia: a poorly equipped or dressed (for the occasion) man was seen walking through the hills, all the time getting colder and colder, and slowly losing consciousness; and for many years, I wanted to be that man. I'd no idea why I wanted to walk and walk until I not only lost my bearings but also my consciousness - I just did.
So I'd often head for the hills. I had one of those bright orange, aluminium framed rucksacks you used to get for one of my birthdays - probably my 13th or 14th, and I can still remember trudging up towards the Cairngorm chairlift at Coire Cas where I'd once been with my parents years before, wearing that rucksack containing I don't know what - except that my Good News Bible was slotted into one of the external pockets, fitting so perfectly that it seemed to have been designed for that purpose. I'd written my name inside it; and had taken it as a symbol of all the Godly, Jesus stuff I knew vaguely about but otherwise had no connection with - convinced it would protect me in some way - even though the activity I was engaging with might have resulted in my death.
And I remember too, how as the hill got steeper and the load heavier, how I made the decision to throw away my rucksack and it's contents - reasoning that I'd not need them when I was dead, and that if for some reason that didn't happen, I could always return for them at a later date. I also remember removing my precious bible from its pocket and holding it in front of me, as tears welled up in my eyes, for I didn't want to part with it nor all it represented for me. I remember lovingly putting it away again - taking extra care to ensure the pocket was properly zipped up so that it wouldn't become too damaged.
In the event, I encountered some workmen on the hill, who carried my frozen body into their hut and summoned help from the police, who eventually arrived and took my by landrover back to Aviemore and at length, to Craig Dunain Hospital in Inverness. Weeks later, I remember being back home with my mother and receiving a package containing the damp rucksack and wet bible - which I still have on my bookshelf now, its cover hanging off after years of being sellotaped together once it had dried out!
I was twice given pocket-sized new testaments by the Gideons - in August 1976 when I started High School; and in November 1981, just after I'd been admitted to the assessment unit within the old Polmont Borstal. I carried the former in the pocket of my blazer throughout my school years in much the same way as I'd done with my Good News Bible; while the latter was chiefly responsible for my Christian conversion during my time at Polmont, as I'd decided to makr off the passing days by following its daily reading plan. I also continued to carry one of them almost everywhere I went, for many years afterwards.
Then my next bible purchase came in 1995: a compact-sized NIV Study Bible, which I bought in the Exeter Cathedral Bookshop, whilst staying with friends in Tiverton. It cost me £25 - the largest sum I'd ever spent on a book, and one of the largest single gifts I'd ever made to myself, to that point in my life! It has been on a few travels too, and its hardback cover is looking a bit worse for the wear - not to mention the soiling of the edges of many of its pages. Unlike the others, it hasn't been abandoned for weeks in the Cairngorms or deliberately soaked; and it hasn't gather so much dust either - even though there has been periods when it has been left to rest on my bookshelves. This is partly, but by no means exclusively to do with the emergence of such online facilities as biblegateway.com.
Then on Saturday at Roots, I bought myself another bible! Paperback, it had for some reason been reduced in price to £10.99 - though the price was immaterial really: I was attracted to its title: the poverty and justice bible...
Inclusive of a 32-page 'Core' section in the middle and numerous sections highlighted in orange that have particular relevance to the title; I reasoned that this modern, Contemporary English Version might help resurrect my flagging bible-reading habits, as well as increase my knowledge and understanding of its content - and many worthy subjects of which I remain largely ignorant.
Now, the programme of Roots Scotland included a surprisingly good selection of 'mini-presentations', of which I attended four. Housed mainly in the warm rooms of the upper floors of the Edinburgh International Climbing Arena and therefore a bit of an effort to get to (i.e many stairs or a single, somewhat tempremental scenic lift), these were not well attended from what I could see - which was great shame, as a lot of good preparation had been put into them. Indeed, I was the only participant in two of the four sessions I attended - which for an event with over 550 delegates seems pretty shocking, really. Anyway, I digress...
I used to be very passionate about lots of things and in many ways I still am - but because my passion has perhaps become spread too thinly over the past few years I'm less aware now of what exactly my passions are, than I was seven or eight years back. And I'd been asking myself that question during the weeks running up to Roots. One thing that does clearly spring to mind emerges from a frustration I have with my particular corps of The Salvation Army, in that it does not in my opinion, connect sufficiently with the community in which it stands. There have been some improvements - with some leafleting of local houses and the like; but as far as I'm aware, the golden connecting opportunities that are the Premier League football stadium - to which our corps owes its very existence actually, the national rugby/concert stadium, the local shops, several large supermarkets, the various community and health facilities and other local churches, are largely unexploited. With the exception of a single march of witness that is always along the same route, each Easter Sunday and participation in the football club's Remembrance Day service; our large and rather good Salvation Army band may as well not exist, so far as the people of Gorgie are concerned - for they never have any casual opportunity to come into contact with it.
Unless, that is, they happen to be shopping in a particular area of the West End of our city, on the Saturdays leading up to Christmas - or indeed live in the two or three, very affluent streets where evening Carolling takes place each Christmas. Or with luck, they might just end up in one of the handful of old folks homes we visit each Sunday morning - and retain enough faculties as they do so, to have any idea of who we actually are...
Hence I was pleased to attend a presentation entitled, "Benefits of Understanding Your Community." In common with most of the other mini-presentations it really was much too mini - for as well as the short presentation of the project that the Army has centrally commissioned to offer some support to those corps wishing to gather data on the needs of their communities and use it for developmental funding applications and the like; it would have been good to explore some of the ideas further, share what's going on in the corps that were represented and how they might be improved upon by using the ideas being presented, and maybe even establish some network links. But it was a good starting point - and a link with one of my passions.
Employed as I am by an organisation that provides services to people with learning disabilities, I was immediately attracted to the presentation by Ivy Blair of Prospects - a wonderful organisation that supports churches in Scotland to become more inclusive to encompass the faith and worship needs of those members of our communities who are not necessarily able to communicate or comprehend in what we might consider to be the normal ways. In fact, take a look at their website www.prospects.org.uk which will no doubt tell it far more eloquently that I can. Somewhat depressingly, Ivy shared with me that the only people attending her presentation were those who already had a connection with people with learning disabilities - giving rise to yet another demonstration of what the General is observing of large swathes of The Salvation Army at the present time.
I attended what turned out to be little more than an impersonal lecture on the development and operation of a befriending project on one of the Scottish islands; and then lastly - set against Intergenerational Worship first thing on Sunday morning, I was the only person to attend the only opportunity of the first-ever presentation or involvement of Tearfund, at a Salvation Army event.
Now come on folks, get over yourselves! Weren't you listening to what the General said about worship, just hours before? Have you not read my previous blog entry? Worship's great: we all love it, we could sit and sing all day with that wonderful band - but hey, it's not what we're called into existence to do. Not just what we're called to do at any rate. And in any case, haven't you read Romans 12? Don't you agree with Paul's assertion that you should offer your whole bodies and lives to God, as your Spiritual Act of Worship?
Let me tell you, I attended worship on Sunday morning at Roots Scotland. I just didn't attend the same worship as everybody else, that's all!
Now, members of The Salvation Army, let me tell you a thing or two that I learned about Tearfund. They have never, ever taken part in a Salvation Army event before. They didn't seem too impressed about having to compete with Sunday morning worship. They are available to give talks and organise events within local churches - and have worked with many; but in Scotland at least, they have never, ever been invited to work with The Salvation Army. Now don't you think it's high time we changed that?!!
They don't do white man going in to fix black man's problems. They do bible study - they teach it, as part of their mission, to those in need in third world Africa. In so doing, they help people discover and value their own strengths. In other words, they don't do for - they support, they encourage. They promote dignity. They don't just give tools then leave folk to work out how to use or make the best use of them - they transform lives. They transform lives that in turn, transform other lives. Is any of this sounding familiar to you at all - maybe not so much from what we actually do, as from what we're supposed to?
Visit their website too www.tearfund.org Invite them to come and speak to you - to take part in events in your corps and halls that you can invite many people to, who would not normally be there, or who would not attend an event featuring The Salvation Army alone. Don't be indignant - this isn't about you or what you do or believe in. Really - it isn't!! It's about meeting people where they're at - hosting and inviting them to the kinds of events that's likely to interest them; including them. It's about being fishers of men - and I know the Lord said he'd do that for you if you just followed him, but goodness me, don't just wait for him to do all the work...!!!
I've just read Isaiah 61 in my new bible - just before I began writing this blog posting. Verses 5-7 say this - and I think sum up beautifully all I'm tring to impress upon you about Tearfund, and the other mini-presentations I attended:
They will hire foreigners to take care of their sheep and their vineyards. But they themselves will be priests and servants of the Lord our God. The treasures of the nations will belong to them, and they will be famous. They were terribly insulted and ill-treated; now they will be greatly blessed, and joyful forever.
Just in case anyone's in any doubt, we are the foreigners it refers to.
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