Save your pence, ladies and gents

Greetings Indexers,
I hope you all have had a Christ-centred Christmas and are looking forward to the new year. We've missed having all of you around, though a week of quiet has been nice! A few things for your attention here.

1. Don't forget Jason and Lindsay who leave for India in a day or two to build houses with Leprosy Mission.

2. Make sure your ready to sign-up for the weekend away when you get back (which means having £50). if this means selling your Christmas gifts on ebay then I say go for it, it will definitely be worth it.

In closing, let me encourage you, as we enter another new year, by God's grace to consider what is most important for your life. Here are a few thoughts from missionary Henry Martyn on what he saw as priorities. Probably something to learn here.

I see by this, how great are the temptations of a missionary to neglect his own soul. Apparently outwardly employed for God, my heart has been growing more hard and proud. Let me be taught that the first great business on earth is to obtain the sanctification of my own soul; so shall I be rendered more capable also of performing the duties of the ministry, whether amongst the European or heathen, in a holy and solemn manner.

May the Lord, in mercy to my soul, save me from setting up an idol of any sort in his place; as I do by preferring even a work professedly done for Him, to communion with Him. How obstinate is the reluctance of the natural heart to love God! But, O my soul, be not deceived; thy chief work upon earth is to obtain sanctification, and to walk with God. ‘To obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams.’ Let me learn from this, that to follow the direct injunctions of God, as to my own soul, is more my duty than to be engaged in other works, under pretence of doing Him service.

May we be holy, as God is holy. And may we pursue Christ more than ever this new year.

Tempus Fugit - So If You're Going To Eat Out You May As Well Do It Properly UPDATED 19/12/2006

I'll tell you this for free (put your money away) - I like food. More to the point, I like good food. If you know me from Adam (any Adam I suppose, I was thinking of Adam of Adam and Eve fame but I don't suppose it's important) you'll know that I have a strange predilection for going on about how many days we're likely to have left here on earth. In case you've never heard me mention it, it's not many. Anyway, I try and keep that thought in mind when I consider pretty much any aspect of life, especially 'spiritual' aspects I suppose but not just. Not in the frankly silly 'eat drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die' sort of way, but in the rather more prudent 'when I eat and drink, at least on special occasions, it may as well be really good cause otherwise it's a bit of a waste of time' sort of way. Now, some people might take issue with the idea of dining out and spending a fair whack on it and that's all well and good. But if you do on the odd occasion enjoy such a soirée (and although it's been nigh-on ten years since I won a BB Bible Quiz I do vaguely remember some mention of feasts in the Scriptures), then you may find the Index blog's latest super-duper feature, if not indispensable, at least mildly distracting. We are to be good custodians of our money, you know - which means we should not I don't believe be throwing our money away at rubbish eateries when we do go out. Listen - I feel very strongly about this. Well, not very strongly, but quite strongly anyway. I've been to all of the restaurants featured in these guides, and I know they're not rubbish. Subjective? Pah - trust me. I've been known to spend weeks looking at restaurant menus from around the globe and I don't darken the doors of anywhere that can't guarantee a better selection of treats than the canny gastronomic wizards at Bachelor's can summons from the humble base of the pacquet de Noodles Super. These places are good.

A word, or rather a few words (carefully chosen, though) about the chic continental 'Warden scale' of these restaurants. Tres expensif is very expensive. And yes, in case you are wondering, the e in tres should have an accent above it but that isn't on my keyboard, so you're going to have to use your imagination I'm afraid. This (the very expensive bit) is relative however - although these places are, on first glance, expensive, you'll find that via set menus, lunch menus and special offers you can eat pretty much anywhere for much less than you might think. Unless you think you can eat anywhere for under a fiver. This is especially true - and this is really the rub - if you don't even glance at the wine menu. If you are a wine drinker, do it at home, or in the street or at your local public park (you don't even need a brown paper bag - this isn't Glasgow. UPDATE: Well at least it wasn't until Cathy Jamieson had her way). Tres tres reasonable (pronounced ree-son-a-blay) is very very reasonable. Tres fair enough is cheap enough that even the most indifferent boyfriend or jaded husband wouldn't balk at taking their significant other. You might still want to take an irritating flatmate to Leisureland though (I think that's still open, the place on South Bridge with the amusement arcades? Did it close down after that fire?). Anyway, there's an appetizer for you. Keep checking the blog over the 'holiday season' for your dispensable guide to dining out.

Part 1

Tres expensif - Martin Wishart, Leith, Edinburgh.
www.martin-wishart.co.uk

To restaurateurs, Michelin stars are like buses - you wait ages for one, and then you wait even longer for another one. Martin Wishart, hence, only has the one. Don't let that put you off, though (I know lots of our more refined Indexers turn their noses up at any less than two) because this place is well on the way to achieving said highly-coveted second. And in case you've never heard of it, this is the place that has all those ladies who would rather die than stay on the 22 bus past the Playhouse braving Leith Walk and even part of Great Junction Street, just to reach it. Yes, it's in darkest Leith, yes, it's opposite the Italian restaurant children go to on school trips so they can make pizzas and pass their European Dimension propagan... I mean, curriculum targets, and yes, as is fitting for the first restaurant to get a mention in TFSIYGTEOYMAWDIP, it is absolutely fantastic.

'What's the food like, DC?' Don't worry, I hear you. But as Paul Hogan found, much to his hilarious (for us) irritation as he awaited Cuba Gooding Jr's response in Lightning Jack, such a request can be ignored. Have a look at the mouth-watering website, friends, and gauge for yourselves. The pictures don't look any bigger there than they do here I'm afraid, but they do at least change and move around and stuff. Just one small caveat- if you look at it and think anything other than, 'this place looks amazing, I would like to go there post haste', then you are wrong. Every dish is made and presented with care, even down to the crockery which almost seems to have been made with the specific dish under which it rests in mind. Some things come on scales. Some things come in glasses. Things which should be flat, like steak, come in cone-shaped towers. Things which should be like cone-shaped towers, well they would probably (I think it can reasonably be assumed) be served on one of those tracks with the penguins who climb the stairs and then slide down the other side, like the old Jenners toy department used to display (can't promise that mind you). Everything screams colour, but quietly whispers class and imaginative, careful design and construction. Someone who loves food has made your dish. They love to have fun, too - everything foams and floats and swims on the plate, albeit in the unassuming style that Wishart himself seems to have personally engraved into the walls. And before my lyrical wax runs dry, a word on the flavours. On first bite, you realise you're learning a lesson on how good food can taste. You will smile, and hope to long remember it. Mind you, when you're back home the next night tucking into another delicious Findus Crispy Cheese Pancake, you'll maybe be glad if you haven't.

Have you ever gone to see a 'Disney on ice' show? That's the impression you get when you see the waiting staff in action at Wishart's, minus the Disney costumes and the ice skates and the ice and the putrid music and the self-discovery plotline of course. Hmm, maybe that's not the impression everyone will get, now I think about it - suffice it to say they are well choreographed, like the children in a Sunday School nativity at an Anglican cathedral or the dancers on 'Stars In Their Eyes'. It's pretty much one waiter to every table, and the way they manage to appear as though there is nothing in the world they would rather be doing than serve you a meal, while at the same time avoiding being irritatingly smiley, captured my admiration (if that is possible, either grammatically or practically). Good grief, my guy even actually laughed when I made my usual remark of 'sorry, the people before us made a right mess' when he discreetly scraped my bread crumbs onto a napkin before pudding. The thing is, we get so used to 'alright' service that when we come across that which is truly exceptional it comes as such a pleasant surprise. Obviously, these guys do love their jobs, have been well trained and, perhaps most importantly, know when a client is looking for a warm chat (as I saw a couple of single diners doing), a nice relaxed meal (that would be me) or a very formal engagement (there were a few of those too) and can adapt their style and presentation of service accordingly. Just wonderful, so it was, as our Emeraldianer friends would say (if they were co-starring in a Harrison Ford film anyway). Oh, and just wait until it's time for your first course proper (you get a complimentary pre-first course which if mine was anything to go by - shaved venison with a raspberry jelly stuff avec French name - will already have forced your taste buds to have come up with new ways of telling your brain how nice what it's dealing with is, plus some incredible little appetizers like the most amazing cheese balls ever, plus haggis truffles!), because this is when the show really begins. The starters are brought out in dishes with silver lids on them, like in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and Octopussy, come to think about it (talk about your classic 'chicken and the egg' conundrum), by as many waiters as your party has. Then, when the dishes are in front of you, said waiters simultaneously whip off the lids to reveal to you your magnificently-presented starter of chilled monkey brains or snakes with eels in them or, more likely, a mixture of a meat, fruit, or vegetable of some kind presented in a way you couldn't dream of, accompanied by something you never would have thought could be nice with it. It maybe sounds kind of like Spinal Tap in dining form, but let me assure you it's just an absolute treat and really seems appropriate given the magnificence of the dishes themselves. It would feel a little funny in a Wimpey admittedly but at Martin Wishart's it just feels right, as someone once said.

You don't need an occasion to go here - if you must, then just make one up (it's always the anniversary of something, for example). Trust me, it is worth forgoing three or four pizzas or Chinese takeaways to save up for a meal here, anytime. I'd say it's ideal, actually, for those awkward engagements with the person who either doesn't say anything or who irritates with every word, as I can guarantee you won't remember a thing about your conversation, if you're even able to conduct one at all. This place captivates as poking your head out from behind a door does a small child, except there's actually a point to being captivated by Wishart's, besides the simple, albeit pleasant idiocy of youth. The food provides all the memories here, with the impeccable service leaving those memories shrouded in a nice warm fuzzy glow. Good grief, looking at my receipt now it seems like I paid three pounds on a bottle of water, and I don't even remember being even slightly irritated by it, or wondering if I could just ask for tap. Praise indeed!

How much you say? Depends entirely upon when you go. Better leave dinner for when you know someone else will be footing the bill, unless you don't balk at spending anything from £40 - £60 per head excluding drinks (although I doubt very much you would regret it for a second even if you did). I'd look to go the whole hog if I was going to go out for dinner though - I hear the six-course tasting menu is perhaps the best in Scotland (calm down, Andrew Fairlie fans, it's not a unanimous view I know), and if you want to make an impression (maybe you're meeting a prospective defence lawyer for the first time, or have to ask a very disapproving father for his daughter's hand) then you won't find a better place. In any event, you should be more inclined to pick up a luncheon tab as it's exceedingly generous. £20.50 set price lunch for three courses is pretty much the gastronomic equivalent to walking up to a bank teller, pointing quizzically at something behind them and then grabbing some cash while their back's turned. Most people prefer dinner to lunch, so pay more - but you're smarter than that. Lunches are the way to go, not just at Wishart's but everywhere, except maybe Greggs where it doesn't really seem to matter when you go, although in my experience anytime after four and you're playing Russian roulette. With pies. There's only one sitting at Wishart's, so book it for 12, stay till 3 (you'll think your dining companion has acquired a flux capacitor when you go here I'm telling you - the time goes that quickly) and then enjoy a leisurely afternoon and evening reminiscing over the meal with you and your satisfied belly.

And on what occasion? None needed. But, especially - business, occasions where someone has offered to take you out (and to pay), romantic, and a bit of self-indulgent single dining. But you'll never regret a trip here. Unless you forget your wallet or something (seriously, how many times can one comedic device be exploited?)

And I could combine it with? A walk down the quayside, a drink in Malmaison, a proposal (decent or indecent I guess but I hope decent) a game of pool at a really weird sports bar round the corner (although bear in mind you might look a little over-dressed unless you are a professional player or John Virgo), a trip to Ocean Terminal or, if you know where I live and more to the point that at that moment I am at home, you could pop round and say hello to me, if you'd like.


Tres tres reasonable - Balbirnie House, Markinch Village, Fife.
www.balbirnie.co.uk

Ahh, Jane Austen. Or should that be, Oi! Jane Austen (said menacingly). Yes, I think that's more appropriate. You see, to my mind Jane Austen has a lot to answer for. Big old mansion houses were once (when they were big new mansion houses) the exclusive retreats of society's elite. Our social betters. People of class, and of the class. People who woke up to the dilemma of bridge or backgammon, piano playing or the amusements of a jester (OK, maybe not a jester - let's say the village idiot). Look at them now, if you can stand it. Chatsworth's got a little farm, for the kiddies. And a play park. Lyme Hall's big claim to fame is that Colin Firth somehow managed not to notice its big pond as he sought to re-profess his affections for Jennifer Ehle. Numpty. And don't even get me started on that place now called 'The Home Of Monarch Of The Glen'. I'm telling you, if you want a microcosm of the decline of the British social framework which has served us so well for the last few hundred years, just follow the signs. 'National Trust'. 'Scottish Heritage'. 'Historic Scotland'. Or, you could actually make this overwhelmingly depressing trend work in your favour, gastronomically at any rate, and head out to Balbirnie House.

Forget that there's a golf course and a craft centre on view as you drive in where there should be open greenland surprisingly bereft of game, and you'll be on your way to fully appreciating this little-known (at least before this blog went out) Fife treasure. Oh, and forget where you are as well - good grief, Glenrothes, and it's homage to the thwarted ambitions of the British mining industry - taking now the thoroughly unartistic form of a kaleidoscopic array of industrial estates and lorry parks - is just a stone's throw (from their side, of course) away. That's easy though, as the vast estate of Balbirnie House provides complete seclusion from any notions of 20th century endeavour. Honestly, when you venture out of this place after a pleasant meal you'll feel like those folks who've just found the wall with the road on the other side of it in The Village.

There's no people dressed up as monsters at the Balbirnie, though, thank goodness - just lots of friendly Eastern Europeans. It does seem a little strange to be greeted by a succession of large Polish men on entering a place as British as a man in a Barbour jacket walking a bulldog to a cricket match while drinking a glass of Pimms from a Union Jack-emblazoned glass, but you soon get used to it. You won't soon get used to the levels of service offered, however, unless you are a dictator of some kind or have a personal team of servants working in your flat, in which case you may well be used to them already. If anything, it can be a little unnerving - it almost seems as though they are nervous that you do not find fault with them in any way. It's not really a complaint, but sometimes it's good to have be able to have a joke with your waiter, maybe even be a little sarcastic with them (not moi, of course) and you kind of get the impression that doing that here would have your poor waiter running to the staff toilet to have a little cry. That said, they appreciate you not being horribly rude and obnoxious as much as anyone I'm sure, so if you have a tendency to be so when you get the chance I'd still advise you try and suppress it.

After spending some time in one of the public rooms (they're the sort of rooms you expect to have to walk through making sure to stay to your side of a velvet rope, rather than the sort of rooms you can drop your complementary nut selection on the floor in, but that's the recompense for being in Glenrothes, and not Lauriston- goodness me that was a long bit of bracketed text). Anyway, after doing that, you will be shown - depending on what you've reserved, it's not like a lucky dip or anything - to either the Bistro, (which I must confess to not having dined in, but which looks a little cheaper than the restaurant, at least at peak times, and which the lady on the phone said is 'pretty much the same, just a bit less fancy' than the main restaurant - bet the food is still fabby though), or the Orangerie, which is a lovely, light (when the sun is in place, anyway) dining room with big windows overlooking the park, and a lovely big table in the middle which has jugs of water (!), all the cutlery and condiments and a big fancy thing of oranges, especially thoughtful to those of us who don't like to have to think too much about our imagery, like me. Believe me, anyone who appreciates the 1986 tour-de-force GTR, the eponymous debut album by the short-lived supergroup of the same name (that's what eponymous means, btw; and, just to make absolutely clear, btw means by the way) knows that subtlety is a dirty word. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the food. Probably should take a new paragraph.

Yes, the food. It's great. I mean, my main course even had a nest of cabbage with it which actually tasted almost alright. Still a bit like a bad smell that you eat instead of smell, but almost alright. I had roast pork when last I went, from the brilliantly priced (for what you get) lunch menu, and it was mmmm-hmmm. Lovely jubbly. And proceeded some beautifully presented and flavourful smoked salmon and preceded some top-notch sticky toffee pudding. All for fifteen quid. Goodness me, I've known of people who have been prepared to spend that in a blimmin' Pizza Express, for goodness sake! Pizza bloomin' Express! I make no bones about it, Pizza Express and its compatriots in the city centre are the reason why I'm writing this - 'how will they know if we do not tell them?' - you and yours deserve better than over-priced, mass-produced, characterless, flavourless, unimaginative poor excuses for dining. You get more than enough of that at McDonald's, where such belongs (and is priced and pitched accordingly, hence, I have no beef with them - they have no beef, either, come to think of it) without having to put up with it when enjoying a special meal out. Come on, folks, let's give our taste buds a treat, and give the big chains a wide berth. Balbirnie House would make a good place to start.

How much you say? If it was in Edinburgh you'd be paying double. Set menus are ALWAYS the way to go in places like this, if you can find them (they're almost always miles cheaper, the portions are almost always just as big and the meals as lovingly prepared and they don't, as far as I'm aware, just leave said preparation to the work experience boy or the bloke who's carrying some infectious disease) and here, at lunch anyway, they're an absolute steal. £12.50 for 2 courses, £15.50 for three. The evening set dinner at £35 seems to set it against some illustrious competition but if you're in that market I would be certain that this place could raise it's game accordingly, but there's still the bistro too, and my mouth is watering (sorry, I know it's unseemly) just looking at its menu now. OK, sounds good. But what about tap water? I won't go anywhere I have to pay for my H20: This is the best bit; in the orangerie at least, jugs of complementary tap water are brought to your table without need of request, and your glass will be refilled ad nauseam as it would a 'proper' drink like wine or vimto. So refreshing (the service, not the water... well alright the water as well) - like me, you're probably getting sick and tired of waiting staff meticulously insuring you have requisite fluids in your glass at all times, until you ask for them to turn on their taps for 2 seconds, which (if at all) they do under great duress before then insisting on basically throwing the jug at you and unceremoniously leaving you to serve it yourself, like a cheapskate. I mean, we know we are cheapskates but the last thing you expect on giving your patronage is for your hosts to highlight said thriftiness.

And on what occasion? If your girlfriend/wife/mother/special lady friend is a woman (which I hope she would be), and she likes Jane Austen (which she will do) then if you have any cause to take her out for a meal, and you aren't in a rush, bring her here. If you are a woman, I guess the same principle would apply pretty much. If Prestonfield House is great (and it is, particularly the tres reasonable set menu), but a bit too gaudy for your palette, come here. If you have a car, come here. If you don't have a car, cause celebre! - you can get the train to Markinch station and it's just a couple of minutes walk from there to here! Unless you simply MUST be in the company of young people, and have your meal be accompanied by the distractions (loud obnoxious music, loud obnoxious decor, loud obnoxious staff) necessitated by it, then you will love this place, I guarantee it.

And I could combine it with? Balbirnie Park, on which Balbirnie House, funnily enough, sits, has some lovely walks on offer. Barely fifteen minutes walk through forest from the front door and you reach an old burial ground dating back quite literally yonks. There's also the aforementioned craft centre, and the village of Markinch itself seemed nice, a bit like a Callender or Pitlochry or Dunkeld but a bit smaller and a bit less nice than those places. The key with coming to a place like this is to take your time. Enjoy drinks before the meal. Enjoy the meal. And enjoy hot drinks in one of the lounges after the meal as well, by the fire. See those leisurely ladies over at the other table, the ones who've been there sipping drinks and discussing their husbands and ex-husbands for the last six hours? Let them be your example, diluting conversation to taste accordingly of course. Yes, it may be a great shame that such a classic old British manor house has become such a cathedral of Tony Blair's Britain (I mean, what on earth are we doing in a place like this anyway?) but the least you can do by way of recompense is try to live like you imagine the rightful aristocratic gentrified owners would have done, at least for one day.


Tres fair enough - La Caspiano, Donnibristle, Fife (KY11 9JJ on multimap, 01383 824400 on the blower). No website although if they had one it would be massive I'm sure.

The people of Donnibristle need no longer hang their heads in shame. No longer need their place of residence and maybe birth be known only for a brief reference in the Singing Kettle's interesting ditty 'The Train To Glasgow', brought about seemingly only because it rhymed with 'whistle' (any hardcore Kettle fans who can further illuminate me on this please get in touch). Nope, what you should really think about as you drive past Donnibristle up the Fife coastal road towards nicer places like Aberdour or pretty depressing places like Kirkcaldy - and, for the benefit of our English readers, that's 'Kirkcaldy', not 'Kirkcaldy', the 'Kirk' doesn't have a 'cauld' - is turning off to your right (past the John Deere tractor place) and paying a visit to La Caspiano, a restaurant for people who know they want to eat something, but just aren't sure quite what that something should be. Now at this juncture, the lazy hack in me wants to wheel out an old piece of journalistic verbiage like 'belying it's humble appearance' or something like that. You see, the place looks a bit rubbish, inside and out to be honest, but the food's great. That's the point. But can this blog really face another tired cliche?

La Caspiano is an Italian restaurant and take-away (it even advertises a delivery service, although as far as I can make out only tractor salesmen, tractor mechanics and people in the market for tractors are within an even reasonable proximity of the place), which also offers a full Mexican menu. And I mean FULL, that's why I said it. It's not a new establishment, by any means (I did wonder on my first visit how the proprietors I spoke to coped with being on the 'other side of the divide' back in the early 40s, or for that matter the whole unseemly business with Abyssinia, and the deco harks back further than I was aware it was possible to hark back to) but through good food, a lively atmos and quite simply the biggest menu you will ever see this side of Big Nick's in NYC (now there was a menu), the 'Casp' as it's referred to by myself is certainly a place which belies it's humble appearance.

Pictures of hen nights, office christmas parties and various other frivolities adorn the walls, illustrating the friendly, 'regulars' atmosphere while at the same time looking just a little tacky. Some of the poorest faux-Italian crooner music you will ever lay ears upon washes though from the 1960s stereo system. The aforementioned party groups are ubiquitous, as are the (!) families with small chidren. Any intimacy you are able to preserve through even this, however, is atomically blasted into oblivion with their birthday 'treat' for any unsuspecting poor soul whose dining partners obviously dislike him or her so much that they inform the management of said occasion - a deafening relayed tape of 'happy birthday' being sung (which goes on for about 20 minutes - I'm telling you last time I was there it was still going on when the guy's group had paid the bill, left and were about half way home) and the scrawniest, rubbishiest little excuse for a slice of Sara Lee blackforest gateau you have ever seen being offered up to the mortified individual. So far, so not good - but that's not why you are going to come to La Caspiano, oh no.

Unless you're in the market for a tractor and are feeling a bit peckish (in which case you have very little alternative), the reason you will come to the Casp is for its gargantuan menu. The Italian menu alone is about 20 pages long, with every possible type of Italian thing you've ever thought of and loads more you haven't. Given the fact that there are clearly only ever two guys in the open plan kitchen over to the side of the room, and that they seem to spend most of their time watching Eurosport, this is, I think you will agree, mighty impressive. Everything really is brilliant as well - the pizzas are at least as good as Leith Walk's excellent La Favorita or Vittorias, and the pasta is generally better than Valvona and Crolla's Vin Cafe (spoken of as one of the best in Edinburgh by many). But, add to this, and the reason you can come out here for any occasion and know everyone in the party will be happy is the 'New' (although I'm sure it was new when I first went in about 1993) Mexican Menu.

Now immediately dismiss any notions you have of the 'additional' menus quite loved of these sort of (cheap) eating establishments. Italian music, italian flags draped outside, Italian staff and an Italian name this place may indeed have, but La Caspiano offers a quite gargantuan selection of Mexican (OK, Texan but that's Mexican in Scottish) specialties. Admittedly, some rather cunning ingredient-sharing may account for some of this (garlic bread with chilli, anyone? - yes me please) but that's to take nothing away from this fine achievement. Their fajitas are probably the best I've tasted (and are absolutely gargantuan... no wait I said that already), and who could possibly argue with a pizza and enchilada 'half and half'? Not me anyway - do yourself a favour and get down to La Caspiano. Just tell them the Index blog sent you.

How much you say? Bog standard Italian/Mexican prices. Think £25 for two courses for 2 and a couple of Irn Brus. Tap water wasn't immediately offered but wasn't balked at. I'd say though skip pudding and treat yourself to a personal favourite place on the way home.

And on what occasion? Well if you're tractor shopping it really is a no-brainer. Otherwise: parties, dates with someone you've been seeing for a good period of time (certainly no first dates - the food can be messy and the initial impression probably won't be what you're after), groups of friends hanging out or family get-togethers.

And I could combine it with? Now this is the magic of eating out of town. A walk, either before or after, is a must - in and out of the car-ers bring shame on themselves in a place like this. Aberdour is a lovely place just a couple of miles up the road, which covers all the walking bases - Scotland's nicest train station (official), Silver (ahem) Sands beach, a harbour, and at twilight the golf club offers beautiful views right from the car park. Later, on the right occasion I hear a walk along the Forth Road Bridge can be a pleasant experience - just park at the hotel on the north side up from Deep Sea World. Oh, and you could go there too if you have children in the party or just like fish and insects and stuff. go to main page

God - the man

Those words seem quite contradictory - God, the man? Another mystery of God and another marvel of His provision of salvation. God the Son, the 2nd person of the Trinity became a man that we might be able to know God and be made fit to approach Him and stand in His presence. The God-man, God in the flesh, the all-powerful God clothed in frail humanity. The infinite God was found in the fashion of a finite man. God stepped down from His throne to walk with His enemies that He might save some. Incredible.

If you could somehow measure infinite measurements may I suggest that it was farther for Christ to go from heaven to Bethlehem, than from Bethlehem to the cross. In becoming human, the great provided became in need; the unsleeping protector needed rest; the untiring omnipotent one became exhausted. Why? To make a way such that we might enter into the very throne room of God and worship Him as He so rightly deserves, in purity and without end. The benefits that Christians get in this whole deal aren't bad either, but it is God who is our prize. Not our forgiveness, not freedom from punishment, not purpose and fulfillment in life, but we are reconciled to God and have a place in His kingdom. Go tell it on the mountain!

There is quite a good, from what I hear, movie out just now on the birth of Christ. It is interesting how little coverage or still this has seemed to make. Maybe people aren't as offended when it is a little baby in a manger instead of the Messiah on the cross. I don't know. But what I do know is that this movie portrays the start of the greatest event in history, the life of our Lord Jesus. In fact, deny Him as they will, every time someone writes a date on a cheque or form they are acknowledging the life of Christ. God in His grace reminds His creation through something as menial as writing out the year that He has indeed provided a Saviour for us in His Son.

Matthew 1.21 says that the child was to be called 'Jesus' because He would save His people from their sins. The historical fact of Christ's birth betrays our need of a saviour. Without sin Christ would not have had to come and die. That is repulsive to the human nature, but it is the only antidote for life. Let us rejoice in the goodness, grace, mercy, and love of God as remember the God-man this Christmas. May we marvel at our glorious Saviour, who maybe isn't so offensive in a manger, but will one day return to judge the quick and the dead. One day there will come an end to the scoffing and laughter shown towards a God who humbled himself to be born in the meanest of situations. If you want to be great ...serve, and follow the example of our Lord.

Does God weigh on you...

or does the world? We've been spending the last number of months looking at the God who exists, created, is three persons in one God, communicates, redeems, adopts, and judges. Does this God have a stronger and heavier influence on you than the world? In the Old Testament the word for 'glory' literally means heavy or having a weightiness. Is God glorious in your eyes? He is glorious whether you think so or not, but He wants us to see the size and the weight of His glory for what it really is...and that is utterly life changing.

Consider this quote from David Wells, "It is one of the defining marks of Our Time that God is now weightless. I do not mean by this that he is ethereal but rather that he has become unimportant. He rests upon the world so inconsequentially as not to be noticeable. He has lost his saliency for human life. Those who assure the pollsters of their belief in God'’s existence may nonetheless consider him less interesting than television, his commands less authoritative than their appetites for affluence and influence, his judgment no more awe-inspiring than the evening news, and his truth less compelling than the advertisers'’ sweet fog of flattery and lies. That is weightlessness. It is a condition we have assigned him after having nudged him out to the periphery of our secularized life. Weightlessness tells us nothing about God but everything about ourselves, about our condition, about our psychological disposition to exclude God from our reality."

What does your life and message tell the world about God? What does it tell the world about yourself?

Remember Me...remember them

Greetings fellow Indexers,
Apologies for no posts this week, not much internet connectivity to be had. We did however see a handful of spots where English reformers were burned at the stake. Why (not why did we go to those places, you can ask me that if you really want to know, but why were they burned)? Because of their view of communion, the Lord's supper. What is it? What happens/doesn't happen during it? Would you be willing to die to hold to the correct view of it? What about other things that the bible teaches, how important is it that you know the truth? Just some things to think about this weekend.

One last question to prime the pump for Sunday: must God punish sin, or in forgiving it can He merely overlook it? See you soon.

Storms of Providence

I was speaking with a friend tonight about someone weathering a difficult storm of life. This raises all kinds of questions as to purpose and why certain things happen, some of which we know right away and others we may never know this side of eternity. Storms are sure to come, it's part of being human, the question is over what one sees above the rain clouds.

In a sermon on taking refuge in Christ, Robert Murray M'Cheyne devotes a significant portion of his sermon to the subject of what he calls 'storms of providence.' Surely these storms of life would cause one to despair if there were no providential hand behind them, guiding and directing them. Living near numerous universities I don't think I've ever seen the topic of evil and suffering addressed so often as I have in the last 2 years. Maybe it is not the easiest answer to swallow, but like many difficult doctrines of God's word it is quite clear and easy to understand. Not many people wondering about the problem of joy and prosperity. It seems to all come down to one's view of man and what he deserves.

Back to M'Cheyne, following in the godly heritage of Job and Joseph he has no problem seeing God's sovereign hand of providence behind suffering and affliction. Job's response was that the Lord had given and taken away, it was the Lord's hand that had afflicted him. Joseph's response was that it was the Lord who had sent him to Egypt as a slave. And M'Cheyne himself would be visited by numerous storms of providence from the Lord's hand in regards to his health, ultimately being taken home at the tender age of 29. M'Cheyne's counsel and plea with his hearers was that they seek refuge in the only sufficient shelter, the Lord Jesus Christ. One of the common aspects of these storms of providence is that they are all and always temporary. It is 'one dark, dark cloud, and eternal sunshine beyond; one wild wave of vengeance, and an unbounded ocean of glory.' It is Christ alone who can shelter us from the storm. A poem by M'Cheyne from 1837 expresses this sentiment of hope in Christ and expresses his dying hope. M'Cheyne writes:

Do you ask me for pleasure?
Then lean on His breast,
For there the sin-laden
And weary find rest.
In the valley of death
You will triumphantly cry-
'If this be called dying,
Tis pleasant to die!'

Kept by the power of God

Last week we considered the reality of God sustaining His creation, both physical and spiritual (the Christian and his or her faith). What we didn't necessarily consider or deal with (at least before 10pm) was what this meant in relation to the Christian's responsibility in not falling away, and the general question of "If someone can't loose their salvation, what of those who fall away?"

Thinking briefly upon the Christian's responsibility in persevering the question arises "If no one can be snatched or taken out of the hand of God and Christ (John 10.28-29), do I have any role at all then in salvation, sanctification, and perseverance?" Like so many things in scripture we can describe and explain what the scriptures say, but our fallen finite human intellect cannot adequately grasp them. I'd suggest that is the case here. It is God who saves and God who preserves, but we are commanded to work and repeatedly warned (Hebrews 6.1-8, 10.26-31 for example) against falling away as if things ultimately depended upon us.

It is a mystery to understand the way God's sovereignty works with, not against, the will of man. The entire Christian message is one that is impossible for every single person. In calling someone to believe upon Christ, we are calling them to do something they are incapable of without the working and grace of God. Going one step further, to call the Christian to persevere in the faith and to grow in holiness is to call them to do something that they are incapable of doing apart from the power and grace of God. And yet, we are to be faithful in proclaiming these messages to men and women in the midst of their inability. Paul gives us some idea of the right perspective in 1 Corinthians 15.10 where he writes: But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.

So, you may ask, no one can be snatched from God's hand, but what if someone wants out? Can God stop me from wiggling free from His grasp? At one level, to ask if man is more powerful than God may sound silly, but let's consider this idea as there appear to be examples that we probably all know of. What of the person who at one time made a profession of faith, was involved in church, even involved in evangelism, and now does not want anything to do with Christ or His church? Did this person slip through the cracks in God's hand? The question can really be answered at two levels, only one of which I'll consider. The one I will leave you to consider is thinking about the whole idea of salvation, redemption, and the work of Christ. Is God able to finish what He started or can man hinder and terminate the work of God? What did God intend in the death of Christ? The track I do want to go down in answering this question is to seek to answer it based upon the biblical data we have already more or less considered. What is that, well: no one can be taken out of the hand of God (John 10.28-29), it is God's power that keeps or preserves the Christian and his or her faith (1 Peter 1.5), and God will complete what He has started (Phil 1.6). With these as givens, how do we answer the question of the person we know or heard about who fell away? I think the only way we can answer it, and the way scripture answers it is to say that what this person appeared to be he or she was not. There was a profession of faith and the appearance of faith, but it was merely man's work and not God's. In John's first epistle he writes: They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us. But they went out, that it might become plain that they all are not of us (2.19). People were once a part of the church (visible) but in time the reality of their faith was shown to be empty. Now, ultimately God knows people's hearts and will judge them justly, but from a human perspective all we have to go on is the evidence we see. In Matthew 7.21-23 we are even told that some people who appear to be Christians, even to the very end, are in reality unknown to God and will have no part in heaven.

What does all of this mean or do? It magnifies the grace of God that any should be saved and that any should be kept to the end. Let me close by asking a simple question: If you are a Christian, what motivated God to save you? And in answering this be sure to distinguish between what motivated God to offer salvation to you and what motivated God to actually save you.

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

He's Got The Hand Speed

You wouldn't imagine that a man famous for stealthy movement which emits no sound would fancy himself as a professional musician, but try telling that to Steven Segal (yes, that Steven Segal) who is launching a 30-plus date UK tour early in the new year. He's already sold-out his Glasgow date, but there are still tickets available for his performance at Edinburgh's Queens Hall (understandably given that it falls on an Index night). What's he like as a guitarist anyway, I hear you ask? No idea to be honest, but I imagine he plays pretty fast. My congratulations to the author of this fabulous press release.

Oh, and by way of a thank you to our many avid readers, the chance to participate in the first-ever (to my knowledge) Index blog competition. Just let me know the answer to this question (any old how, it doesn't have to be on a postcard although that would admittedly be nice) and you could win a spectacular mystery prize!

Q. What links 'the thinking man's action hero' (and lover of pandas) Big Stevo Segal with the 'Sultan of Spoofery' Leslie Nielsen's comedic tour-de-force Wrongfully Accused?

CHRISTOPHOBIC

The University of Edinburgh has officially banned the PURE course that was to be run on campus by the Christian Union (without talking to or telling the CU, but that is beside the point).

University Press Release:
“The university has a clear commitment to ensuring that our students and staff are treated and treat each other with dignity and respect. It also attaches considerable importance to the values of free speech and open debate."
“In this case, the university has looked into the matter, in parallel with an enquiry by the Students Association (EUSA), and has decided that the course is contradictory to our Equality and Diversity values. It was decided that it is not appropriate for this course to run on university or EUSA premises.”
LM 20/10/06

Christians cannot say that homosexual activity is wrong, but anyone is allowed to say that Christians are wrong, bigoted, intolerant, neanderthal, stupid, backwards, dangerous; the list goes on. It is fascinating, though not necessarily surprising, to live in a society where it is wrong for Christians to have free speech, yet to be spoken and written against maliciously with no one stopping to consider the utterly hypocritical nature of 'you must tolerate (meaning accepting, embracing, and not disagreeing with) everyone except Christians.'

If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household. - Matt 10.25.

If you haven't read the post below, don't stop here...

God Loves the World

Perhaps the most famous or well known verse is John 3.16 where we read that ‘God so loved the world that…’ Well, what does it mean that God loves the world? This immense love is most evident and clearly expressed in the death of Christ on the cross, but what good is it if not everyone is or gets saved? Perhaps you’ve been asked ‘If God is love, why isn’t everyone saved?’

This can be answered on numerous fronts, we’ll look at two. First, to ask why everyone is not saved is to assume an obligation on God’s part towards man, which cannot be substantiated. There is only one thing that sinful man deserves from God, and that is His wrath. But it can also be answered by noting that there is a different kind or degree of love that God has towards his children and those whom He has chosen. Now, before you revolt against that last sentence, may I suggest that to believe otherwise leaves one trusting in salvation by works and undoes the whole of the grace of God. Consider these words of Iain Murray, our special guest speaker last Sunday night (which, by the way, if you weren’t there was an absolutely brilliant evening looking at the life of and learning from John Knox – Oh that God would raise up men and women like him in the church today, it would make a world of difference…may we be those men and women), he writes

“But if Christians are no more loved than those who will finally be lost, the decisive factor in salvation becomes, not God’s grace and love, but something in them, and their perseverance becomes dependant upon themselves. To widen the atonement (Christ’s death on the cross), and to speak of it only in terms of general love, is to take away is saving power. The believer in Christ needs to know that the love which embraces him is eternal, almighty, and immutable. It does not hang upon his faith for it went before faith.”

In other words, if all people are loved the same by God, then salvation is by works in that all who add a bit to what God has done in Christ will then be saved and grace vanishes.

So how is God’s love of the world seen in the death of Christ? It is seen on numerous fronts. One way God’s love is seen is that the ‘cross is God’s ordinance for the salvation of men, and Christ is dead for you to come to – for you to live by.’ Christ says that He will not turn away any who come to Him for salvation. God’s love in Christ to the world is also seen and heard whenever the gospel is proclaimed to people without distinction. The call of Christ is universal and all are demanded to repent and humble themselves before Christ as their sovereign King and Lord.

And one last way God’s love to the world is seen, which leads us towards what we’ll be looking at this coming Sunday, is in His gracious sustaining of His creation. God sustains even those who blaspheme His glorious name, and His love is seen and experienced each new day, though undeserved. As we will look at God the Sustainer this coming Sunday maybe consider and meditate on the words of Paul in Colossians 1.17. He holds together.

Tempus Fugit, Part 2: Elderly

ABSTRACT: The world marvels at youth, and, in many ways, quite rightly - Christ is known to have spent time with children, and encouraged all to follow in their example with regard to the manner of their faith. But it is the fixation on the image of youth that seems so often unhealthy - our media is filled with people who will apparently stop at nothing in an attempt to preserve it, or find it once again. The world does not marvel so at old age. For want of a better example, picture the scene at pretty much any church on a Sunday morning, as proud parents bring their newly-born child to the service for the first time. Folks gather round, desperate for a look, to touch, to hold. Every expression greeted rapturously. Again, not wrong in and of itself, but isn't it amazing to consider the creation of humankind through God's eyes? Made in His own image. Not just the beautiful baby we all strain to see, but the age-ravaged old person who most of us (myself included, by and large) hardly even notice. They are just as beautiful, just as special, and just as sin cursed as the rest of us, in God's eyes. Their need of Him is no greater or less, their worth to him the same. Should we care less about children and young people, marvel less at the wonder of their very being, and desire less fervently that they each come to Christ? No! Should we care more about old people, marvel more at the wonder of their very being, and desire more fervently that they each come to Christ? Yes!

Say what you will about the merits of showing prolonged video footage in Church services (Index plugs notwithstanding, of course!), but I thought the film shown the Sunday morning before last, promoting the shoebox appeal, was affecting. Of course, seeing the children's faces light up as they received their small gifts is pretty much a given when it comes to charitable appeals, but what got to me was seeing the older folks receiving boxes too. It struck me, I think, particularly because it isn't a given at all; and it re-emphasised to me, perhaps paradoxically, some of the concerns I have with regard to how the elderly are viewed and valued in our media, our society and even our churches. Which brings us to the second part of this piece, which I hope may prove thought-provoking, even if not particularly enlightening.

Now, before I meander off down the pontification highway, some grounding. The Bible is perfectly clear on how we are to view and treat our elders (and specifically our parents, for that matter). Some examples:

Leviticus 19:32 - You shall rise before the grey headed and honour the presence of an old man, and fear your God: I am the LORD';

Proverbs 23:22-23 - 'Listen to your father who begot you, and do not despise your mother when she is old. Buy the truth, and do not sell it, also wisdom and instruction and understanding';

and Job 32:6-9 - 'So Elihu, the son of Barachel the Buzite, answered and said: “I am young in years, and you are very old; Therefore I was afraid, and dared not declare my opinion to you. I said, ‘Age should speak, and multitude of years should teach wisdom.’ But there is a spirit in man, and the breath of the Almighty gives him understanding. Great men are not always wise, nor do the aged always understand justice'.

These to name but three.

But do we? Do we, as a rule, value our older folks as we should, acknowledging them of course not to be above fault? The world, or at least our little part of it here in the 21st century first world, doesn't in my opinion. Our society is obsessed with youth, I would argue, to the point where the very status is to be idolised; a perhaps inevitable by-product of secularism. If the concept of eternity is one of no personal significance, then the initial few years of life will obviously be cherished and revered by all, the last few dreaded, feared and to a certain extent at least, conveniently ignored. Have a look at a newspaper - what is considered a true tragedy? Someone dying 'before their time'. Someone dying young. If an accident leaves many dead, the focus will be on the young or on those women with child. If a child is killed, an outcry follows and demands for a legislative response is immediate. Of course, the death of a young person is by it's very nature more shocking than that of someone who has lived to an age approaching that 'expected', and probably far more difficult for close relatives to deal with correspondingly. But why is it more of a tragedy? Is it more of a tragedy?

When an old person dies (under 'normal' circumstances at any rate), it is considered, generally, fair enough. 'They had a good innings'. Maybe 75, 80, 90 years. Fair dos. Very sad for the family, of course, but hey, they had a good life and now they're gone. That's life. Compare this to the reaction of a young person dying. Floral tributes. Newspaper articles. Ever the question asked - why? Suddenly left without answers, the secular society clings to vague ideas of a God and a heaven they do not know or understand (or, generally claim to have any belief in at all), and hence the person is said to be 'with the angels', 'looking down on us', 'in a better place' or something similar. Perhaps surprisingly, given how 'enlightened' we're all supposed to be now, rarely if ever is it said 'ah well, they've ceased to exist in any form now as they have no eternal soul so it doesn't really matter'.

Now, of course we know that loved ones will cling to any shred of comfort they can in a time of grief, as they must. But why is the death of older people (not that old, really - someone who lives to 100 has only lived for 36,500 days (give or take some leap years, the calendar has never been my strong point) which isn't all that long) any different? Why aren't they said to be 'with the angels'? Where have they gone? Death is horrific, and to those without hope or knowledge of what awaits afterwards, it should be a time of great confusion, soul-searching and, in the absence of any assurance, clutching at emotional straws. And to close family members and friends, the death of an older person will probably still be just that, but there can be no doubt that society certainly expects them to get on with things pretty quickly. It seems that, at least to me, our society's acceptable and even ideal outcome of life is for someone to see out their 30,000 days or so, and then die without too much pain (see any current discussion on the 'merits' of euthanasia if you wish a greater insight into this mindset, taken arguably to it's logical conclusion). If they can have they have contributed to society in some way in that time - maybe raised a family, done a worthwhile job, or just been a generally nice person, then so much the better. Wayne spoke about it in this morning's sermon (October 29, if you feel like listening to it online) - everybody's 'nice', pretty much - isn't that enough? Is this God's view of life? Should it be ours?

There are perhaps few areas of Christian life which better demonstrate this preoccupation with youth than evangelism. It seems everyone is determined to try and win the hearts and minds (and souls) of children. Youth clubs at Church. SU groups in schools. Summer camps. Who are evangelistic 'praise nights' primarily aimed at? Again, this has to be qualified - of course we are to 'suffer the little children'. But should we not also have the same fervour in our witness to those older? You may have heard of the 'lost generation', a rather unfortunate term given to those folks in this part of the world who the church apparently 'missed'- the generation before us Indexers. It's a typically hyperbolic distinction, but there is truth in it. For whatever reason, the end of the second world war brought with it an (at least statistical) decline in the Christian church in the UK, which continues today. It's also been said however that our generation (the Christians in it anyway) has, perhaps resultantly, emerged with a fervour and passion for our faith which harks back to old times, and manifests itself largely in our witness to others. Is this true? Is it true in our case? Well, if it is, (and even if it's not) then we must surely be seeking to reach this 'lost' generation. God knows His number, God knows His names - we don't. We cannot hide our lights under the collective bushels of our respective peergroups, we must not just live for Christ in our CU's and with our friends and at Index. God has placed folks around us our own age, yes, (thankfully), but the world is bigger than that and so too is the body of Christ.

We are blessed in many ways at Carrubbers. One of those is that we have an abundance of students and young people. There are many Churches lacking in the energy, drive, optimism and passion which young people (allegedly, I can't speak for myself here) bring. We don't have so many older folks though; resultant, hopefully, in us not taking them for granted, as I have seen done in my past Church lives. In so many places of worship, it seems, the older members of congregations (who do generally make up the majority of their number) are ridden over roughshod by those younger, particularly if the minister himself has an 'agenda for change' and sees the 'traditionalists' as obstacles to it, with little if any thought given as to how they can best be served. Old people are living in the past, they're afraid of change, they stifle God's work and make church an unwelcoming place, it's argued - well maybe sometimes they do but I think more often than not we'd be better off listening to what they have to say before we sweep up the carpet from under their feet. Why do many of them dress differently for church? Why do many of them prefer certain forms of praise over others? Why do so many make the effort to attend prayer meetings? Is it all just vacuous tradition? I don't think we can take them for granted - ideally, I think we at Carrubbers would have more of them - but those that are part of the fellowship are, to put it horribly crassly, a resource that we must tap for all it's worth. We, and especially those of us living apart from our families, need the input of older people in our lives, need their wisdom, need their experience, need their discernment. There's nothing new under the sun, and there's very few problems and difficulties which we face that haven't been faced by others before.

And we should not have any misgivings about approaching our older brothers and sisters either. The student lunches are a good idea, and can be fruitful times, but they shouldn't be stand alone events; the only time we interact with some of the church families. The gift of relatively long human life brings with it, in my opinion, an accompanying responsibility - a responsibility to lend their experience, wisdom and discernment to those younger both in life and in the faith. The Bible demands it, and we would be foolish not to insist upon it. Maybe you haven't been at Carrubbers long, maybe you've been coming for years: who do you know to speak to? Are their older people who are investing in your life, and vice versa? We've got three pastors, you've got pastoral and home group leaders maybe, you've got (good grief) an Index core team - there's some people who have to respond favourably for a start, and maybe they can point you in other directions. I'm not necessarily speaking of elderly people here, just people who've more life experience than us who can encourage, challenge, and teach us. In the final part of this post, by the way, I'll look at what perhaps some of our responses to these issues might be.

In the meantime, keep an eye on folks, learn from their example, don't get trapped in that aforementioned inward-looking bubble of your own peers - as the children are encouraged to do in Sunday school, and as we are warned at each dedication service the babies will do, so we should too. Many of you will have known Peggy, who faithfully attended pretty much every service and Tuesday prayer meeting until her death this past year - what an encouragement she was, in life and in death! It always struck me just how much of an interest she took in the church, and particularly it's younger folk - seemed we were as much of a blessing to her, interestingly. How wonderful to think of where she is now, the home she long looked forward to. That mindset, an acute awareness of our own mortality, and dependence upon God for each breath, is perhaps a blessing which comes with age - all the more reason to spend time learning from those older if it is - but it should not be exclusively theirs.

The world marvels at youth, and, in many ways, quite rightly - Christ is known to have spent time with children, and encouraged all to follow in their example with regard to the manner of their faith. But it is the fixation on the image of youth that seems so often unhealthy - our media is filled with people who will apparently stop at nothing in an attempt to preserve it, or find it once again. The world does not marvel so at old age. For want of a better example, picture the scene at pretty much any church on a Sunday morning, as proud parents bring their newly-born child to the service for the first time. Folks gather round, desperate for a look, to touch, to hold. Every expression greeted rapturously. Again, not wrong in of itself, but isn't it amazing to consider the creation of humankind through God's eyes? Made in His own image. Not just the beautiful baby we all strain to see, but the age-ravaged old person who most of us (myself included, by and large) hardly even notice. They are just as beautiful, just as special, and just as sin cursed as the rest of us, in God's eyes. Their need of Him is no greater or less, their worth to him the same. Should we care less about children and young people, marvel less at the wonder of their very being, and desire less fervently that they each come to Christ? No! Should we care more about old people, marvel more at the wonder of their very being, and desire more fervently that they each come to Christ? Yes! go to main page

It takes a steady hand to hold a full cup...

Over the past weeks I have been considering many things; I believe experiencing change in your life brings about musings and wonderings of a different kind. One of my most prevalent meditations has been on the fragility of the human being. Pastor Wayne has often sighted the fact that if God took His hand off us for one second, we would cease to exist; Why then at times does it feel like I am going it alone? Why when I am seeking the Lord do i continue to feel a lack of His presence and with it His power, comfort and peace? I don’t know if you can relate to these statements but here are my recent thoughts…

My considerations have been borne from recent personal loss and I am sure I am not alone in saying that the process of grief is potentially one of the most isolating agonies a person can face. The delightful fact of these musings are that even though at times I may feel like I am going it alone or that God, to quote C.S Lewis “has closed the door and double bolted it on the inside.” The Good Shepherd does not leave me, he promises this many times. I have found comfort and calm assurance in the fact that God is unchanging. God does not panic when we do; Gods hand is steady and sure.

Even if you haven’t experienced perspective-changing circumstances in your life I would encourage you to consider making Gods promises real in your life; God will be proved in your diligence and the process will strengthen your faith. Better than that is the fact that your relationship with the Lord will grow. And even when Heaven feels like its silent; its not. Don’t trust in your feelings alone, claim scripture and hold it to your heart and you will find that even the most basic understanding will bring assurance and peace from the Lord.

“And because you are sons, God has sent forth the spirit of His son into your hearts, crying Abba Father.” (Galatians 4:6)

Something to chew on...

Greetings. Apologies for the dearth of posts the last week. If you missed us Sunday night, I think we'd all agree that Papa John's was particularly good.

We discussed a bit on Christ's final words to his disciples immediately before his betrayal and crucifixion, which can be found in John 13-17. We noted and discussed the extensive explanations Christ gave, in this his last hour, on the relationships between the Father, Son, and Spirit. It is a triune God that we worship and Christ wanted his disciples to understand this showing its supreme importance as it filled his discourse just prior to his death. Take some time this week reading, thinking upon, and meditating on these 5 chapters and be amazed at the God we worship, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Does God exist?

Here is a post that links to both a written and an audio version of an exellent debate between a leading apologist and atheist, who have both not passed into eternity. Everyone should either read or listen to this. We can get cds of it to you if for some reason you can't get to it.

Philosophy, Spirituality and Chai Tea

To follow on from DC's encouragement i would also like to reccommend the writings of Francis Schaeffer to those who want to look deeper into apologetics and modern culture. Im not sure if his books are still in print as he is fairly old school (died in 1984, year after i was born!!) but they are widely available as second hand editions if nothing else. He and his wife founded L'abri, a retreat in Switzerland which is now found across the world with the vision to share and defend biblical Christianity (www.labri.org). His writing is pretty profound and certainly gives plenty of food for thought. I am currently working my way through his complete works (like a snail swimming across the atlantic) and have found them incredibly relevant and challenging.
"The God who is there" (any philosophy types) and "True spirituality" (being a christian in the real world) are two of his best books and are, in my opinion, absolutely necessary reading for all christians. I am sure that the books reccommended by Eric John would overlap and probably build on this stuff but still thought it would be good to mention these. If you want to borrow them then do come and chat and i can possibly pass them on to you, scribbled notes and all!

The second half of this spraff is an encouragement to get stuck in with street evangelism. In my first year i got dragged along to Edinburgh uni's street evangelism on a Friday night (10pm in Buccleugh free church) and was massively impressed by the way the christians there could give real, sensitive, rational arguments to the various passers by and share something of the gospel through the conversations. I went a few more times but it was only really a year later that i started to feel confident enough in my knowledge of the gospel to start conversations. Going along and listening is probably just as much of a challenge as speaking. To hear all the things that people believe [and say they believe], and to listen, discuss, petition, ask, and witness is an incredibly informing and, at times, difficult experience but it is a fantastic way to grow in your knowledge and trust in Christ! October 20th is the carrubbers effort [i think]...so definately get stuck in! (dont know about carrubbers but Edinburgh uni give out free hot chocolate and chai tea)

You ask me how I know He lives...

Great stuff Sunday night, wasn't it? In case you missed it, Carrubbers' very own Eric John Scott was discussing how we can know that God exists, from within the somewhat unlikely context of the generally God-denying philosophical worldview and some of its most prominent champions. Challenging, stretching (both major pluses in my book) and ultimately very encouraging, it was one of those nights where you just wished all your non-Christian friends could have been present. Maybe they would have come, if they'd been asked? Maybe yours would have? Something to think about perhaps.

Anyway, there was lots of food for thought, but as Eric said it was merely the appetizer. Here are the apologetic entrees he recommended:

Why I Still Believe by Joe Boot

Can Man Live Without God, Jesus Among Other Gods, and Deliver Us From Evil by Rawi Zacharias

Unquestionably, this is topical - with Richard Dawkins' latest effort currently topping the Amazon best-seller lists, we surely need to be equipped and ready to stand for truth in our time.

That Old Chestnut: Singleness

Mikey's sermon got a lot of folks talking this past Sunday, I know. Got me talking, too (although to be fair very few things don't). And a lot of you were talking about what he had to say about singleness. Well, rather than offer my two billion cents, I thought I'd point you towards an article which deals with it in a way I personally find very helpful. Maybe you will too.

Resolved, to live to die.

Mention was made in Sunday's sermon to some of the resolutions of Jonathan Edwards, the man who prayed that God would stamp eternity upon his eyeballs.

Here are his resolutions.

Here is a great biography of Edwards and here is probably the best biography.

Tempus Fugit, Part 1: Hospitals

Although not dealing with exactly the same issues, I'd urge you, if you haven't already, to listen to our own good Reverend's sermon from this past Sunday (October 1) via the Carrubbers website before you go any further. And if, like me, it is still fresh in the memory, has it impacted upon you at all, or has today just been like any other day? Did you think when listening to it that it should? If you're reading this, there is still time (although I suppose by the time you've finished there might not be). Oh, and before you all dash off to track down Eric John to see if he wouldn't mind taking up a little plagiarism case, rest assured that the vast majority of this was written before Sunday.

I've spent quite a bit of time in hospitals recently, and it's got me thinking. About hospitals. They really are fascinating places. From the outside, they just look like other big buildings - the old ones look like big old schools, and the newer ones look like big new schools, or financial headquarters. When you go past them, you probably don't think too much about them, unless you have a personal connection with someone inside or who has been inside. But think about what's going on in there. People breathing their last. People breathing their first. People crying with sorrow, and others with joy. People fighting for their lives, and others doing their best to save them. Every state of human life can be found in a hospital.

I think that's why the world does its best to shield us from them. Alright, you can watch ER or Holby City or something and see some of the drama that unfolds, but that's with all the detachment, both emotional and psychological, implicit in the medium of television. That's safe. Otherwise, hospitals are big, isolated people-repair factories found quietly sitting more and more on the outskirts of big cities. Most of the time, people don't see them. The rest of the time, they don't want to. They're scary, surreal places, at least for many. And how about you? How do you feel about going to visit someone you know in hospital - a relative, a friend, someone who you've heard mentioned in Church? Does the prospect appeal to you? We'll come back to that in a bit.

Wherever you've been, whatever you've been doing, to step into a hospital (the same applies to care homes you could argue) is to step into another world, except it isn't. It's the same world, only a part of it that is normally kept hidden from view. If someone collapses on Princes Street, an ambulance will come, paramedics will put a blanket over the person, put them in the back of said van and whisk them off to somewhere where they can hopefully be treated, far from the eyes of the rest of the crowd. At once stunned and solemn, they will soon forget about what they've seen and carry on with their business, as is to be desired and indeed expected. That’s just what we do, and us tough Brits are lauded as particularly adept at it.

Hospitals are so impacting I think because they reveal the human condition as it really is - vulnerable, unpredictable, mortal. At the mercy of forces outwith the realms of our control. From the moment you are put in the back of that ambulance, the world no longer seeks to conceal from you your own mortality; rather, you are immediately exposed to your own vulnerability and moreover man's complete inability to sustain itself indefinitely. Health professionals instantaneously take the place of and indeed supersede every other authority figure in one's life, and they funnily enough have no desire to conceal the aforementioned reality from you, only to put you at some sort of ease as you seek to mentally process it. This is the life they know. Almost uniquely in our existence, this applies equally to everyone regardless of race, gender, social status, financial clout or even condition of health. The chances are, all of us will one day end up in a hospital or hospice, unless we die first. Do we think about that? Should we think about that? Does the world want us to think about that? Does the Bible want us to think about that?

At this point, I must defer to the afore-heralded sermon of the Rev, which focused primarily upon Ephesisans 5:15-16:
'See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil'.

The concept of numbering our days, furthermore, can be and was specifically linked back to Psalm 90:12:
'So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom'.

The world may seek to promote the lemming lifestyle of blissful ignorance towards mortality, but that clearly is not the desire of God for us. How often when raising, or seeking to raise a topic of some eternal significance, or any which raises the issue of our impending death, will someone tell you to 'lighten up' or stop being so 'depressing'? They don't want to hear it! And this potentially goes for us as Christians too. I'll come back to it hopefully in a later post, but don't you find that people don't want to think about illness, or death, or even getting old? Isn't that strange, given that death is an inevitability, the one thing we know awaits us in the future? But then the world, even with all the progress, advancement, and enlightenment that has emerged in its history, has no answer for it. How can you know what happens when you die? Amidst the confusion, sadness and sense of loss which so often surrounds it, many reach out to the God they have ignored throughout their lives, realizing at last that He is who they have needed all along. This is a sad fact, but it is a fact nonetheless. And God can, and has used it for His glory.

I asked the question earlier on of how you feel about visiting someone in hospital. It's an overly generalized and simplistic question I know - of course, it depends upon your relationship with the person, what their condition is, the extent to which their presence there is surprising, and probably dozens of other factors. These considerations are probably most important even in the decision of whether to go at all. There may well be a great deal of trepidation on your part, after all, what are you going to find? What will they look like? What are you going to say? Something that used to trouble me whenever I faced the prospect of visiting an elderly relative (now deceased) who spent several years in a rural hospital, was the gnawing sense of guilt at my lack of real, consistent concern. It was sad to see her lying almost lifeless on a bed all those times, of course, and as you sat you felt rightly compelled to pray earnestly, knowing it to be the only hope for her, and your only available method of assistance. But then I would leave her, get in the car and drive home, and as the miles wore on gradually that sadness and concern would be left behind, at least in part. The prayers, at first so fervent, would over the following days fade into habitual blandness, often only boosted in impetus by our own Sunday morning prayer meeting, which I remain (and please take this not as a cheap plug) both committed to, and, in far greater measure, thankful for.

I firmly believe that God would rather we repent than regret in all things, but if there is one thing that I wish I had done differently over the years in which I was able to visit my great aunt Elsie, it would be that I had taken the opportunity to be a great witness for Christ in the hospital, and this I believe should be our primary focus whenever we face the prospect of hospital visitation, or think about hospitals and issues of illness and ill health more generally. Is it often an uneasy, unpleasant proposition? Undoubtedly yes, at least for me, but perhaps with this mindset it can be an exciting one, too. I'm hoping to look at some of the issues surrounding the opportunities available to us as we spend time with older folks in particular in a later post, but suffice to say in a world so often caught up in its own busyness, where as a more facund man than I once observed, we are largely seeking to, and succeeding in, Amusing Oursleves to Death, surely what better place than that so removed from the absurd routines of everyday life, the hospital, and further what better personal circumstance, ill health, to share the love of Christ and the hope that He brings with anyone and everyone?

So, what should I have done? I should have spoken more with the staff, thanked them for their efforts, and encouraged them in their profoundly difficult work situation. I should have told them that as I was praying for Elsie, I was also praying for them too, and that moreover the God with whom I have a personal relationship with, through His Son Jesus Christ, (as potentially can they), will I know hear and answer those prayers. And I should have been able to say that in all honesty – an unfulfilled promise of prayer is an awful sin and one which I know myself to have committed before. I should have shown love and concern for all the patients in the ward, and their visitors - not being insensitive or intrusive, but at the same time not walking by on the other side of the road as it were either. A difficult balancing act? Yes - some people may desire nothing more than a chat, a promise of prayer, even just an ear, some may be desperate to know how they can find peace, and know God, while others may just want to be left alone (I speak from recent experience – never bother an old lady eating yoghurt) - so I should have been praying for wisdom in pursuing it.

There is considerable Biblical basis for this argument, I believe. The initial point of this post which I at least attempted to make was that on entering a hospital, a person in essence 'checks out' of the everyday world. Now, it is true that with medical advancement - in this part of the world at least - has to a large extent come an end to the total ostracisation of the sick as was so prevalent in the days of Christ - the leper is no longer cast out of the town, at least not in the same way (interestingly, the Encyclopedia Britannica attributes as the catalyst for this shift in approach the conversion of Constantine to Christianity in AD 331 – I’m sure Cameron Rose could explain that further). But as Christ spent so much time in His day amongst the sick, should not we today? And why was that so anyway, you may wonder (I have), especially given the eternal perspective which obviously Christ possessed in the greatest abundance? I believe the reason was that just said - as people are stripped of their health, and the complacency seemingly intrinsic, so the worldly bubble of assumption and lifestyle in which to some extent they, and we, exist is at once burst. In desperation, they of old turned to Christ and those who bore testimony of Him - the leper, the blind, the cripple, and the relatives thereof. The world no longer had the answers to their questions, could no longer meet their most pressing needs. The world, to put it bluntly, didn’t want to know. Of course, we know that in reality the world hasn't the answer for any of the questions, but it can take extremity of circumstance, in this case with regard health, although many others too (fiscal being another prime example) for that awareness to manifest, and often did, even in the days of Christ. Say it that this no longer be the case?

It can be, and is I am sure, a wonderful thing that our hospitals have Christians within them, be it in the role of patients, visitors, or staff, as long as when there we allow God to work out His purposes through us, and are obedient to His call. There are a whole load of medical practitioners, both in practice and in the process of training for (I guess they aren't practitioners then), lurking about around Index, as you probably know.
They look pretty much like everyone else so they can be a little hard to spot - it would obviously help if they always wore white, light cotton coats or at least stethoscopes around their necks, but most of the time they don't. And they would I'm certain be able to elucidate upon the sociological and psychological, to say nothing of the spiritual, impact of hospitals and those within them far more learnedly than I. At the same time, by turns, they also perhaps of all of us are exposed most directly to the challenges and opportunities presented by, and implicit within, their workplaces.

In today’s western, pronouncedly secular society, it is simply not possible for Christian doctors, nurses et al, however zealous, to move from patient to patient, visitor to visitor sharing the Gospel and offering the hope and forgiveness, and the peace that passes understanding, which they know God offers to them. Nonetheless, anyone who has spent any time in a hospital knows just what impact someone can have, either positive or negative, depending on how they go about their work - a smile, a cheerful disposition, taking time to address the concerns of those in and around the bed, and simply asking how one is doing can mean so much to patient and visitor alike. And of course to those of us with other careers and lifestyles, going about our daily business, the reality is the same as is the challenge. It is surely of the utmost importance that the conduct of Christians working in healthcare, as everywhere, is marked by compassion, care, thoughtfulness and love - spiritual gifts evident even to those who cannot identify them as such. Over the times recently where I have been a visitor in hospital, I have been greatly blessed by the ministry, for that it surely is, of many Christians who are evidently treating their patients as potential brothers and sisters, people made in God's own image, and not just as clients as the relatively recent 'healthcare as business' model could and perhaps does encourage. Although I must plead ignorance with regard to all the pressures and demands of the modern healthcare working environment, I recognize that it may not always be easy, or even considered good practice, to work in this manner. But in diligence, and working as unto the Lord, I am sure that all would and will be blessed in it.

These are, for better or worse, simply some of my own thoughts, and as such are entirely contestable. Feel more than free to post any comments, or speak with me further about anything you've read. I am sure many folks around Index will have far greater insight into these issues than I. As I stated earlier, my intention is to post a second part of this in a short time, focusing more on the identity issues surrounding age, and in particular the elderly, and what I perceive to be an unhealthy not to say unbiblical idolization of youth. I hope the juxtaposition of these pieces with my more silly posts is not overly off-putting, but rather is of even a little benefit to the blog - again, you are welcome to comment. go to main page

rain or shine folks

That's right, rain or shine, we'll be enjoying the great outdoors this Saturday at our annual student welcome weekend. Don't wear your formal clothes, they might get a wee bit soiled. Don't forget, we'll be meeting at the Commonwealth pool at 2pm. The bus leaves at 2.15 so don't be late. Actually, you can catch up with us if you are running behind and that's all I can say.

While you are here, go read this, in light of entering in upon our study of who God is I think this is something worth thinking about in our self-focus emotion-led society and churches. It's a little long (relative to blog posts, though if you are used to Warden by now you should be just fine), but well worth it.

Now go read DC's post below.

Hungry?

'Political correctness'. Good grief, it's everywhere. Just ask the embattled defenders of the Fourth Estate, the purveyors of quality, objective reportage at the Daily Mail. They'll tell you. Fat controllers who can't be referred to as fat, gnomes with big ears who can't be called 'Big Ears' - the whole world has officially gone mad. Oh for a place free from it; a place where you can leave the requisite 21st century guardedness at the door. A place where you can consume food so rich and artery-clogging that it renders you immobile for about three weeks. A place where you can park your horse and 18-wheel truck in the same 'lot'. Oh for the Big Texan.

You heard it here first (probably because it isn't true) - Tony Christie wasn't looking for 'Sweet Marie' when he asked for directions to Amarillo. He was looking for the place where, at least according to the website (I know, I'm not sure I believe it either), 'entertainment is better known as EATertainment'. Hmm. Anyway, not to worry, their punnage gets a lot better in a minute. The Big Texan isn't just about puns, though - oh no. It's about good ol' fashioned American 'family values' - and in particular the family value that focuses on consuming as much beef as is humanly possible, in the shortest amount of time.

Just having a cursory glance at the menu is enough to send your cholesterol level through the roof. A 60-oz. pitcher of whatever beverage you fancy at 7am? No probs- it's on the breakfast menu. As is a 16-oz. T-Bone steak. For breakfast! Then there's the 'appetizers', including that old family favourite 'fried rattlesnake'. No doubt in response to lessons hard learned, the good folks at the 'Texan are quick to warn that deep fried Kaa doesn't contain too much meat, but rather lots of bones - still, at only the equivalent of about three quid, I'd give it a punt.

This place is a certified wild west theme park, except it's still kind of real - I imagine it'd be like spending time on the set of Back To The Future 3. The on-site motel has parking spaces large enough to accommodate everyone, even if 'your rig is bigger than most' (and I bet most of the rigs are already mighty big), there's a shootin' gallery and a dance barn, and even, fabulously, an adjacent 'horse hotel' where you can park your little pony or noble steed for the night. How cool is that? Very. Wouldn't fancy the return journey, though, especially if I'd just tackled the pièce de résistance of the Big Texan, the king of steaks, the one whose 'robust flavour' has earned it 'the Royal title of 'Sir Loin'' (officially the greatest pun of all time), the patented 72-oz. Big Texan steak.

This gargantuan beast started life no, not as a cynical marketing ploy playing on the uniquely American concept of gluttonous endeavour as personal achievement (you cynic you), but as a homage to a cowboy known only as 'a cowboy' who 'came through the front door bragging that he was so hungry that he could eat the whole cow'. As the anonymous but (I would imagine) highly respected Texas food historian continues:

'Bob (R. J. 'Bob' Lee, the founder of the Big Texan) grinned as he put the first one-pound steak on the grill and the contest was on. When the cowboy finally hollered 'calf-rope' (I'm assuming that's Texan for 'Help me, I can't breathe') he had consumed four and a half pounds of tasty Texas beef. Bob vowed (I imagine solemnly) from that day forward the dinner would be served 'free' to anyone who could complete it in one hour. In those days, the dinner - shrimp cocktail, salad, baked potato, bread and 72-oz. steak- only cost $9.95. Today, challengers pay $72.00 for the experience.'

And what an experience. On accepting this grave challenge, you are led to an individual table on a podium, the timer ticking above your head, where all the other diners can watch your struggle. Kind of like the boy in Matilda, except this time you've asked for it. Of course, you can't leave the table, or have any contact with anyone else - to do so, I imagine, would be considered an insult to the memory of the great cowboy. On completion, not only do you get the usual T-shirt, certificate combo that Harry Ramsden's used to do when you finished their insignificant-by-comparison 'Harry's Challenge', but you also have your name placed onto the 'hall of fame', where it will stand for all time alongside some 8,000 other heroes (out of 42,000 challengers), including 'an 11-year-boy and a 69-year-old grandmother'. If you really want to achieve beef-eating greatness, then the all-time record belongs to Frank Pastore, a former baseball pitcher who ate the lot in nine and a half minutes.

Have a look at the website. You can buy Big Texan merchandise, read all about their very own 'epicurean masterchef' Daniel Lee, and see which celebrities have stumbled across the place, presumably while also trying to find Amarillo (Patrick Swayze and James Earl 'Mufasa' Jones are but two). You can even watch people attempting the challenge on a live webcam! It makes you wonder why on earth our good Reverend ever left the Lone Star State. Fantastically, you can also now have one of these behemoths delivered to your door - I personally think it would make for fabulous last-week-of-Index entertainment. Doubt it would be allowed though, on health and safety grounds if nothing else. It's political correctness gone mad. go to main page