Wednesday, 31 July 2013

'our sins, like piles...'

Oh dear.
Oh.
Very.
Dear.
It is, I am beginning to learn, possibly the task that ministers love the least: the cycle of the year turning around inevitably to the task that is the 'musings from the manse', 'ministerial mutterings', or 'pastor's ponderings'.
I refer to the blurb that is the minister's slot in the parish magazine/ newsletter.  
Now, as a probationer-minister, in theory, this little task should not necessarily be my problem as yet.  Indeed, my wondrous and fab supervisor will be writing her blurb for the mag at some point this week.  However...in a bid to get me used to the whole thing, 'probationer's ponderings' will also have its own wee slot while I'm at parish-by-the-sea.
Joy abounds.

I'm reminded of the many times I've read such things, with variations on a theme as they begin:
'Friends, as I sit looking out the window of the manse study, watching the blossoming of Spring/ the first falling leaves of Autumn/ the frost-covered garden on this Winter morning...etc...I am reminded of God's...[insert divine attribute here, continue to claw about desperately for rather tortuous spiritual analogy].'  I suspect that very occasionally, what one really, really, really wants to write down is less er, 'weather-orientated'.  But how to avoid drowning in what could be the equivalent of a cheese-fondue?

Mind, I feel the potential for a competition coming on: prizes - by preferred type of cheese - for most torturous analogy?  Below, my own humble offering, as I reflect upon piles...feel free to join in.

'Dear ones, as we move towards Autumn, I find myself contemplating piles.
Countless piles.
Currently the falling leaves are covering the ground, 

and groundskeepers and gardeners everywhere are amassing piles...
of these fallen objects, now no longer displayed in all their glory but

discarded, damaged, decaying.
Friends, as I ponder piles, I am minded to think of our own fallen lives.

Each of our sins, amassing like spiritual piles, 
cluttering the interior landscapes of our lives:
ruined remnants reminding us of our formerly whole and glorious relationship with God.
But friends, be comforted: 

God can heal our piles 
if we only hand them over to Him.'
'our sins, like piles...'

1 comment:

spotthegerbil said...

As I lie here in the bedroom of the Manse I look at the sky and I contemplate the mystery of the universe. The multitude of stars, that only God can count. The wonderous phenomena like pulsars and black holes that are beyond our earthly understanding but which He planned and placed with patterns which He understands

And remember, when you're feeling very small and insecure, How amazingly unlikely is your birth; And pray that there's intelligent life somewhere out in space, 'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth! (thanks Eric Idle)

But most importantly, as I lie here contemplating the cosmos, I recall that I've got to phone the Property Convener about the stonking great hole in the Manse roof....