Sunday's coming!

Acts 2: 1-12; John 20: 19-23   The passage we heard from Acts causes some people problems. As well as being one of the passages of the Bible most filled with difficult names to pronounce, I think it is a passage which unsettles a lot of people. The church is born in loud noise, tongues of fire and strange languages – and we might wonder whether we can live up to that level of pyrotechnics.   How are we, gathered here quietly today, related to that strange and wonderful experience? We might wonder if we should be noisier, more showy, more “Pentecostal”.. or we might stare at the floor and hope that no-one suggests those kinds of changes here!   If Acts troubles you, there is a different story of the coming of the Holy Spirit in John’s gospel.    Instead of having to wait the 50 days from Easter to Pentecost, the disciples meet the risen Lord on Easter Sunday evening – and he breathes the Holy Spirit into them. This seems a much gentler gift of the Holy Spirit than the account in Acts, w

  Coronation Day and John 14 :1-14   I hope at least some of you watched the coronation yesterday. I have to admit.. I loved it – I had looked at the liturgy of the order of service in advance, but even so there were moments that took my breath away, and others that moved me to tears.   There had been quite a lot of fuss over the last week, leading up to the coronation, about the oath of the people.  “I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors according to law. So help me God”. And then the later response  “ God save King Charles. Long live King Charles. May The King live for ever”.    For anyone who was struggling to work out whether it is right for Reformed Christians like us to pray for an earthly king, these might have felt like problematic words – and to pray that anyone ‘lives forever’ might seem strange.     And yet, as I looked at the gospel reading for today I heard, in the words we were invited to say, an echo of the word of Jesu

  Psalm 23 & John 10: 22-30 Just five days ago these walls were ringing as we gave thanks to God for Denzil Jeremy’s life: and one of the readings we had was the 23 rd  Psalm. A number of people commented to me later that they have attended too many funerals in the last year or so.  I think we all know what it means to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And sometimes it only takes particular hymn, a particular reading, the “Amen” at the end of Gwahoddiad, to take us back to a moment of grief of loneliness or sadness. Deep gloom is always there – the shadows of life are inevitable – no-one is spared or can live their entire life in the sunlit uplands. And yet…the Psalmist wants us to know that though the darkness cannot be avoided we are never left without a guide. The Lord is my shepherd. Perhaps just for today we can start the Psalm in a different place – in that place of darkness – and see all    the promises of God that can see us through the darkness to a place of