Sound of the Anvil

As an introduction just some background on why this is called ‘The Sound of the Anvil’. When I moved into Wales to become a ‘Pastor’ I lived and worked in a ‘church’ in a place called Tonyrefail, just outside the Rhondda Valleys. The name Tonyrefail when translated into English is ‘the sound of the anvil’ due to the amount of forges that were originally littered through-out the community. That constant sound of hammer on metal, the sparks, the fire, the water, the shaping of something through a continuous sounding and pounding. I found this very prophetic in terms of my own call and ministry gifting. A constant sounding out that would shape something. Entering a new year I would release my thoughts, dreams, hopes, what I sensed on God’s heart for the upcoming season. This is the sound of my heart and I hope the sound of the heart of heaven for 2012 and beyond.

Joining the dots

I believe that we are entering a season of joining the dots. At the moment there are many who are walking a new path but have found themselves in isolation or in the margins. There has needed to have been a season of pruning and cutting back and desert, of total dependance on Father, and without this season the next season may not be so fulfilling. Yet there is a need to connect, relate, see a bigger picture emerging. I saw a dot to dot book, I loved these as a child. Without joining the dots there is just a page of spots, each one independant of the others. As the dots are joined a picture begins to emerge. We will see an embracing of others and a joining in the journey through this season, not to create a static picture on a page but an ever shifting picture. Not joining to become the same and tell others how to do it, but a joining to share stories amd journey. To reap from one another. No one dot bigger than any others but all shaping something together that at the moment is unknown. Appreciating differences, loving variety, sharing life. New friendships will be formed during this time, strong friendships. It cannot all be done over an impersonal computer, but it can be done around coffee tables and in living rooms. No one person, or one connection is the full picture.

Undot the I’s and Uncross the T’s

This is the season to chill out a bit on the detail. Too many divisions, splits, arguments have been created by being too fussy on the detail. This happens so much in the area of belief and theology. I believe that belief and theology are important, but not at the detriment of relationship. Many splits have been created by the minuetist of detail. I always remember the Assemblies of God and Elim trying to re-engage with each other because of the division in their history between two brothers, Stephen and George Jeffries. The whole debate was over what was called ‘an Intitial’. The A.O.G. believed in the baptism of the Holy Spirit with the initial evidence of speaking in tongues, Elim did not. This is probably not the full story but this was part of the reason the Jeffries brothers went in separate directions. How sad! How pathetic! Arguing our corner and our cause could break down a vital relationship to our understanding of a bigger picture. We all only see in part, the quicker we see that the better. God loves to mess up theology, when man has it all worked out God seems to reveal something new about Himself again. The problem is if we have dotted the I’s and crossed the T’s we have nothing new to learn. Big mistake.

Don’t mind those p’s and q’s

It is the season for refeshing raw honesty. Our faith has been wrapped up in nice flowery wrapping paper for too long. We are too polite for our own good. I am not on about offending for the sake of it, but we need language that may offend. We need people to speak out of the heart and not the head. We need people to say it as it is. For too long we have been a face value people. The question ‘how are you?’ always has the response ‘alright’ or ‘good’. Life is not always alright and good and we need people to communicate that fact. This is not to turn us into moaners but to turn us into people who speak truth, because the truth shall set you free. Eloquence will not change the world but truth will. Already there are those blogging with raw honesty, but these people will find space to share and bring life to others in the struggle. Raw honesty tinged with hope will bring love and release to many.

Remove the full stops and commas

In this season we need to remember that what we are a part of is a running story and not a text book religion. The original form of the Scriptures were not a book but a collection of parchments; letters, stories, dreams. They had no chapters, full stops or commas, but they were continuous stories of God walking and outworking life with His people. They could not quote verses at one another because they had none, all they could do was share what they had heard, seen, had passed down. Chapters and verses were added for our benefit to aid in study, but the intention was never for God to give us a text book of fundamental full stops and commas. The Acts of the Apostles (the sent one’s, which is all of us as we are all told to go) is an open ended letter because the story goes on today. We are a part of His story. We share the passed down Word as His given Word to inspire us to be the Word. Then wherever we go we bring life.

11,12 Dig and Delve

As we move from 2011 into 2012 I believe we are entering a season of deep searching and digging. Not laboriously but lovingly into Him and into our own hearts. The further we delve into Him the deeper we dive into love. In this digging we will find our rest and joy and peace. We need to dig and turn over what has gone before ready for a fresh planting in the Lord. A fruitful season for weary travellers. It is time to rummage through the rooms of heaven and our lives and we may be surprised by what we will find. I was reminded of a person who goes up into the attic of the house and starts rummaging through the bits and pieces and there finds treasures of the past. Maybe not of physical value but of great moments and precious times. This is the season of treasure finding. To delve is to remove something concrete. Those solid walls of the past will come down. Systems, belief patterns, religion, these things will continue to be challenged and dug away. 2012, the year to dig and delve.

Open Ended Conclusion

I am sure this is nowhere near the be all and end all of 2012. Praise God for that! It is just a sharing of the heart and I trust that something somewhere resonates with someone somewhere. Here’s looking forward to all that God has in store for 2012. Maybe this next twelve months will be a time to join the dots with some of you out there. Bless you good in this coming season, submitted in all humility and with much blessing, Paul.

The Amazing Tree

The thought for this week began with a Facebook status update from a guy called Malc Garda, it simply said ‘Our tree is amazing-thank heavens for those pagan traditions.’ It caused a little conversation but not the sort of rumble I would expect. A few years ago I would have been one of the people a bit miffed about such flippant comments about serious matters like this, as we thought we had to squeeze out every ounce of paganism from our house to please God. We stopped sending Christmas cards, we put up very few decorations and we looked forward to the day we no longer had to celebrate Christmas because God would restore the old festivals, the only type we thought he approved of. But we soon realised we were replacing one set of religious rules for another and having another truth revealed to us personally that mere mortals could not understand unless they were really holy. How proud and stupid we were. This is not to diminish the feasts in any way as we still see something of Christ in them, but did God really have such a hang up with us celebrating stuff like Christmas? Does He really tut in heaven because we put up a tree, share presents and love the site of Christmas lights?  Like Malc I now think, thank God for these pagan traditions. Is it so bad to be pagan anyway?

Christmas Party

On Sunday when all good Christians had their Christmas carols by candlelight I sat in a pub with the night workers from Asda. It was our annual party night, the time to eat, drink, dance and be merry. We had an amazing time. There was a time I would have avoided such nights but now it is great to be out socializing with friends and co-workers. I am not condoning the drink culture or condemning having a drink but I do love the fact that people loosen up a bit once they have had a bit of drink and this created some very interesting conversations, none more so than with our night cook. It turns out she is a pagan. She told me about all her beliefs and some of the things she celebrates. She told me she was a wicca and instead of doing the sign of the cross and getting the garlic out I listened and we talked and shared beliefs. I did not quote repentance Scriptures I just told her the stuff I was into and I was very honest about my feelings about church. It turned out she attended church every Sunday, which I found very interesting. It reminded me of the time Gerald Coates was on a chat show with a vicar and a witch and during the debate he famously said ‘I have more in common with the witch than with the vicar’, after our conversation in the pub there was common ground and a definate interest from her part in my beliefs. Now that is what I call a works do!!! This led me to look up what a pagan is and where the phrase comes from, and what I discovered led me to my question at the top of the page, am I pagan or am I Christian? Or am I both? Before you ban me from your very thoughts we need to get to the original definition of the word pagan.

Am I Pagan?

The root word paganus is Latin and it literally means ‘of the country or rustic’. People of the land or earth. Already it becomes a word I can identify with. I am a person of this land or earth. I feel like I am planted here in these valleys and that is why I could not move from here when I resigned my pastorate even though I was offered church positions elsewhere. I am part of this part of the earth. I am grounded. The dirt I walk on is holy dirt. I feel part of this place, this community, these people. I belong. This translation comes from the fact that during the Roman Empire the towns and cities accepted their brand of Christianity but the rural villages and hamlets resisted the change or proselysation. This included the Celtic believers. I am a rural boy. I was born in a farming community in Lakenheath, Suffolk, lived for a while in a small town called Lutterworth and now live in the Welsh Valleys. I have always struggled with the church emphasis on cities and big. I love the rural landscapes and the out of the way places. I love the fact that revival came to obscure remote Cornish villages during the time of Wesley. I love the fact that revival came to remote valleys here in Wales. The marginalised people. The pagans. Being a rural boy at birth and in heart I consider myself according to the definition a pagan. I think in 2012 we need to stop looking to the cities for answers the cities have only ruined us. There will be much going on in the margins and obscure places where only the eagle eyed will see. The term pagan was also used of people outside a certain group or organisation. Outside the organised religion. If that is the case where I am walking right now I am int he place of a pagan, outside any organised religious activity or church. Some still inside the organised church may even use that term for people like me. That is fine, and infact now I know the root of the word I am happy to relate to it. The Christians called themselves milites or enroled soldier, members of the militant church, or fundamentalists is my interpretation. The non conscripts were known as pagans. I no longer sign the dotted line so I must be a pagan. The orginal interpretation meant no more than that. I think I might be pagan, I might be Christian, I might be both or neither. Whatever it is not as black and white as it seems. So as a family as we enjoy the Christmas celebrations and festivities I come as one who loves Christ. I come as one reminded once again of miracle birth. I come as one standing with my community looking for hope during these dark days and nights. And as I look at my tree I do thank God for these pagan traditions, and for my family, and for another year ahead. And know that Jesus was born a pagan, a rural boy outside of religious protocol in ministry.

• Hebrews 8:1-2

That time of year

Working in a store like Asda you realise how these companies just live from one event to another. Any opportunity for an extra sale is taken with both hands; Valentine’s Day, Easter, Summer, Back to School, Christmas. Of course living as a Christian in this environment brings it’s own conflicts of interest with this world of commerce and greed and yet in the middle of all the junk I often find hurting people and Jesus. There is so much in the Christmas season that grates with me; the blatant commercialism, many pagan roots, the fostering of greed. Yet at the same time I am a sucker for the stupid songs, the party atmosphere, seeing kids faces opening gifts, lights and being reminded about the incredible birth. I have gone through the “we should not celebrate it” phase and come out the other side enjoying the season (why should we always be killjoys?) with a cautionary approach of not being totally sucked into everything. You should hear my version of Mary’s Boy Child by Boney M when it is played on the radio at work! I am also aware of the incredible pain this time of year brings to so many people. This week I went to a Nativity play at my youngest sons school. As you can imagine having four boys I have sat through a few of these, especially when we had to do them in church as well. This year as I sat in the school hall I was touched in a fresh way and had my eyes open to the reality of what that night must have been like in some measure for that couple Mary and Joseph. I have always been aware that our Christmas hymns and carols have been no more reality that Jingle Bells. Silent Night, what a laugh. No crying he makes, you got to be kidding me. The holy serenity the scene is always given is such hogwash. Stick a nice halo over people’s heads and it looks wonderful in pictures and on cards. The reality would have been so much different.

Word made flesh

I am not drawn to the holiness but to the filth, the squaler. I am not drawn to the halo over the couple but to the pain and misunderstanding. The birth scene was not full of holy silence but full of the noise and hustle of a busy city, people pushing and shoving. Not a nice comfortable 5 star stable but a shit smelling cave full of animal dung and mess and a drinking trough as a bed. A mother screaming out in pain as contractions get more intense. A father still confused by what is going on. Yes in faith he took Mary to himself instead of secretly divorcing her because of the dream, but he was human. There must have been thoughts and doubts about it all, especially as the birth drew closer. There was no midwife on hand, Mary’s mother was not around to help, no gas and air to alleviate the pain. I’m sure like my wife does today there would have been a few harsh words whispered to Eve and blaming her for the intense stomach cramps and pain. The waters would have broke, there would have been blood, screams, pushing, the scream of ‘Joseph take it away’. Doubts about being able to cope as parents, will the child live, what will the baby look like? That moment of joy when the mother suckles the baby on her breast for the first time. I’m sure Mary would have wondered if the baby would be taken straight up to heaven away from her. But a screaming, pooping bundle of flesh and blood and afterbirth was born to her. I am not blown away by the holiness of the scene but the normality of the way the Son of God came into the world. The Son of Man. Contained in touchy, feely flesh. Not a silent night but a noisy night where the voice of God announcing ‘here I am’ gets lost in the sounds of the city. Only heard by a few on the margins, the shepherds. The Word became flesh. Real. A burping, farting, crying, smelly real baby. Now that is awesome.

Restoring Childlike wonder

Looking around at those other parents watching the nativity in school I realised that they would all be receiving a mixed message over the season.  A season where baby Jesus and Father Christmas sit together. A time of drunken parties and endless gorging. A time of spending and debt. Yet here they were watching their children telling the story of Jesus in a clarity that many preachers would waffle about over this time from pulpits. Open wide eyed because their children were involved. For a few moments maybe forgetting about that failing marriage, the pain of loss, the alcohol addiction, and finding the childlike wonder that they all once had. And the thought that Jesus gave up the so called holy scene to live amongst this. Life, normal life. The blood, the pain reality. He is part of the noisy night.

“It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David’s town

And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother’s hand to hold

It was a labour of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labour of love.”

from Labour of Love by Andrew Peterson





Nation Mourns

It was Sunday morning and I was sitting doing what all good Christians do on a Sunday morning, watching my youngest boy play football. I was sitting talking to another one of the fathers when he received a text, ‘have you heard about Gary Speed?’ The first thought was that he had resigned as manager of Wales, but then after replying asking for more details the news came back that would shock a Nation. He has been found hanged. As the news rippled across Wales and the whole of Britain anyone with a remote interest in football began to grieve the loss of someone who seemed to have everything and yet must have secretly lacked something that still remains a mystery. The question why hangs heavy over the Nation. This truly has been a time to lament. I felt the grief every time I saw reports on the television news and every time I read a paper. Tears would fill my eyes. I felt the grief of a Nation over one of it’s own.  The Theme from M.A.S.H. says Suicide is Painless. That is so untrue for the left behind. Speed left no note, no reason, no clue, but he did leave a wife and two children. The unanswered why hangs heavy in the air.

PK’s (Pastor’s Kids)

During a trip to Boras, Sweden we heard much of this tragedy taking place. Five Pastors in this one place alone had lost their sons to suicide. We met one of these couples who still were leading a church carrying the grief of losing a son in such a heart-breaking way. We really felt the weight of this, and it was a privelidge to be able to pray with them, but really feeling helpless as to what to pray or say. They had probably heard all the Christian platitudes and right words, but what do you say but why? I felt anger at the devil, anger at God, anger at all believers that place unrealistic and unfair expectations on their children. We have to learn to leave the kids alone. My wife was a P.K. and I can see the pressures that bring in her to perform and conform. My kids used to be P.K’s. They still are C.K’s (a Christian’s Kids). I want things to be different for them. I want them to be free to be themselves in every area of their lives. To have hopes without expectations. To not dictate the course of their lives to make them feel obligated in any way. To not communicate my love for them in a way that makes it look based on performance or pleasure at success. To not live my regrets through them. To not even make them marry believers when they are probably more equally yoked with someone else. I have seen enough Christian marriages to realise equal yoking is greater than holding a Bible and attending meetings together.

Let The Kids Live

My travelling companion to Sweden and great friend Geoff Reed from Cramlington had a couple of sleepless nights during our trip. It was not the reindeer meat we ate or all the cheese, but a real stirring. The first time was while we were in Helsingborg for his own children. The second time was while we were in Boras, this time for Maria and Bjorn’s sons, and the kids of all Christians in the area. A stirring about the weight and pressure put on these kids. A stirring about hopes and expectations and disappointments. A stirring about love. It was moving to hear his account, which I am sure he could communicate so much better than this. A stirring to set our kids free. Why were all these P.K’s commiting suicide? Surely their upbringing alone is precious, pure, holy? In a position to be brought up in the ways of the Lord, privelidged to not be exposed to a pagan upbringing. Taken to church, shaped by morals, in a loving home, potential for ministry and living and working for God. What better upbringing? So why take the escape route? Why take such drastic action? The real reasons we will never know for each individual case but we must help the kids. Let them live. Tell them it is okay to not do the church thing if they don’t want to. And if you do not do the church thing tell them it is okay to do it if they want to. When we stepped out from the church structure our eldest son went to a different church with a friend. That has to be fine too. They have to learn from their path not mine. Bringing them up in the Way of the Lord is to let them live Jesus daily not do as I do through my revelation and interpretation of the Word. We have to teach them relationship without expectations and love that is unconditional. They have to learn from life and not be dictated to on every decision and step. God is big enough to look over them wherever they go, even if it appears they are squandering the inheritance. The Father let the prodigal go, even though he knew the potential consequences. He knew this son was no more lost than the son who remained with him. Education adds pressure to perform and succeed. Educate for a good job or leave school for the manual lower grade jobs. Better to be a bin man in the house of the Lord than a computer programmer with no life, personality, relationship skills etc. One of my boys hates written work and reading, but he loves cooking. Each week he brings home a great creation for tasting. If that is him let him cook. If he changes his mind so be it. But hey preacher leave these kids alone. That son leading worship or the youth, is he doing it for you? Is he doing it for God? That is a pressure in itself that is demonic and controlling. Have you ever asked him/her if that is what they want to do? It is time to let them go for life. There has been enough death. Not all death results in suicide, but week by week P.k’s and C.K’s are living a life that is not their own. They are dead. Let them go. Let them marry their hearts love and not some goody, goody church goer. Let them work, travel, breath, walk, run, sit, be. Be there to release a blessing over them and advise when asked. But stop guiding them directionally. It is tough, I have four boys to release into God’s hands, but I want life for them not religious expectation and death. They cannot believe just because I believe, they have to discover belief and faith. They cannot live for God because I live for God, they have to live and discover God in that life. The only success is life lived through unconditional love. I will leave those kids alone.