Remember Remember
Yesterday it rained. Nothing unusual, it rains a lot of the time, especially around these parts. Yesterday wasn't quite bonfire night (5th) but it was the day most people have their celebrations instead, which basically means fireworks. As the rhyme goes, "remember, remember, the 5th of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot" (you can google it if you wanna know what that's all about). I'm part of an outreach to international students from Lancaster uni and yesterday, as it was a special traditional event we were sposed to go to the firework display at Lancaster castle. In the rain. I didn't expect anyone to show up, but they surely did, crowds in fact with their umbrellas and not quite adequate coats. So for an hour we stood waiting and muttering and shivering before anything went up, although plenty was coming down. Now when I say rain, I don't mean a light drizzle or the odd shower, no, I'm talking proper, constant, bouncing back off the ground rain. And as "I vow to thee my coutry" started up out of the great black speakers into the great black night, we looked over the shiny tent of umbrellas to see the first coloured lights explode against the sky and I couldn't help but wonder what we were all doing there. It just seemed so unbelievable that so many people would put themselves through such discomfort for so little reward. Do people really like fireworks so much? Are people just looking for something pretty or exciting or a shared experience? I dunno. Despite actually enjoying the event and finding it quite moving in a strange way, it did all seem a bit pointless and there was something about us all standing looking upward that made me feel quite small as I thought about God looking back.
Today is remembrance Sunday. When traditionally we remember those who have died in wars and battles fighting to give us freedom. There is usually a minute's silence in church services at 11 o'clock, commemorating the end of the war, the 11th day of the 11th month at 11 o'clock. There are also marches of servicemen and veterans to cenotaphs and services on tv. I watched one of these services. I find it moving thinking about all these people who have died and those left behind and think its good to stop and remember them when we constantly take our freedom for granted, especially as most of us have no concept of what an experience like that is like, or does to you forever. But what struck me this time was the servicemen and women on the programme I was watching singing hymns that I would guess most don't normally sing, with words most don't normally believe. I couldn't help but pray that something of what they were singing might speak to them, become real to them. And I wondered how long it would be before someone of another religion gets offended and they get rid of God from these traditions. And again the futility of it all struck me. Not that I think death or freedom or courage are futile, but that its clear that life is short enough without being stuck down with a bomb or bullet and here we are so small so unable to control our own fate, and yet fighting and killing each other, spreading fear and hatred. And all of a sudden the realisation that this isn't how things are supposed to be, we weren't created for this, that there is something more, something bigger and better, and that remembering this brings hope, remembering Him brings life and purpose beyond our efforts to entertain ourselves, beyond our attempts to protect ourselves, as Frederick says....
"To remember my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. And each of you, with all the memories you have and the tales you could tell, you also have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through as least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are, a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive.
Is it possible to find peace-the peace that comes from looking back and remembering to remember that though most of the time we failed to see it, we were never really alone. We could never have made it this far if we had had only each other to depend on, because nobody knows better than we do ourselves the undependability and frailty of even the strongest of us."
Today is remembrance Sunday. When traditionally we remember those who have died in wars and battles fighting to give us freedom. There is usually a minute's silence in church services at 11 o'clock, commemorating the end of the war, the 11th day of the 11th month at 11 o'clock. There are also marches of servicemen and veterans to cenotaphs and services on tv. I watched one of these services. I find it moving thinking about all these people who have died and those left behind and think its good to stop and remember them when we constantly take our freedom for granted, especially as most of us have no concept of what an experience like that is like, or does to you forever. But what struck me this time was the servicemen and women on the programme I was watching singing hymns that I would guess most don't normally sing, with words most don't normally believe. I couldn't help but pray that something of what they were singing might speak to them, become real to them. And I wondered how long it would be before someone of another religion gets offended and they get rid of God from these traditions. And again the futility of it all struck me. Not that I think death or freedom or courage are futile, but that its clear that life is short enough without being stuck down with a bomb or bullet and here we are so small so unable to control our own fate, and yet fighting and killing each other, spreading fear and hatred. And all of a sudden the realisation that this isn't how things are supposed to be, we weren't created for this, that there is something more, something bigger and better, and that remembering this brings hope, remembering Him brings life and purpose beyond our efforts to entertain ourselves, beyond our attempts to protect ourselves, as Frederick says....
"To remember my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. And each of you, with all the memories you have and the tales you could tell, you also have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through as least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are, a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive.
Is it possible to find peace-the peace that comes from looking back and remembering to remember that though most of the time we failed to see it, we were never really alone. We could never have made it this far if we had had only each other to depend on, because nobody knows better than we do ourselves the undependability and frailty of even the strongest of us."
2 comments:
hi mate! well, that was wonderful! Thank you for sharing it! It is quite wonderous how small and useless we are! it makes it all worthwhile. miss you.
I am so thankful that God sees from an eternal perspective that He shares with those who are looking.
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