Skip to main content

Plucking Brands from the Burning



The speaker at our service in Dundonald Methodist yesterday, reminded us that today the 9th February, 2009 is the 300th anniversary of the fire that ravaged Epworth Rectory in Lincolnshire, and very nearly deprived the world of John Wesley, the founder of what became known as Methodism, then a mere 5 years old.
His mother Suzanna famously described him as "a brand plucked from the burning" and had a strong sense that God had a particular purpose for his life.
My Arminian theology causes me to ask whether John Wesley's subsequent life in ministry, was a fulfiment of God's purposes, or a product of Suzanna's sense of God's purpose, or a complex combination of both.
Certainly the role of Suzanna in the lives of her two most famous children cannot be gainsaid, and, in the light of this week-end's 11plus results, and what I wrote yesterday, it emphasizes the role that key adults can have in the subsequent development of children.
The key is not individual events such as rectory fires or exam results, but the ongoing, prayerful affirmation and guidance of these young lives which are overflowing with potential.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Woman of no Distinction

Don't often post other people's stuff here... But I found this so powerful that I thought I should. It's a performance poem based on John 4: 4-30, and I have attached the original YouTube video below. A word for women, and men, everywhere... "to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known." I am a woman of no distinction of little importance. I am a women of no reputation save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, Or even get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, And to be loved is to be known. Otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of them in the first place? I WANT TO BE KNOWN. I want someone to look at my face And not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears; But to see all that I am, and could be all my hopes, loves and fears. But that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for So I don’t, not anymore. Now I keep to myself And by that

Psalm for Harvest Sunday

A short responsive psalm for us as a call to worship on Harvest Thanksgiving Sunday, and given that it was pouring with rain as I headed into church this morning the first line is an important remembrance that the rain we moan about is an important component of the fruitfulness of the land we live in: You tend the land and water it And the earth produces its abundance. You crown each year with your bounty, and our storehouses overflow with your goodness. The mountain meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are filled with corn; Your people celebrate your boundless grace They shout for joy and sing. from Psalm 65

Anointed

There has been a lot of chatter on social media among some of my colleagues and others about the liturgical and socio-political niceties of Saturday's coronation and attendant festivities, especially the shielding of the anointing with the pictured spoon - the oldest and perhaps strangest of the coronation artefacts. Personally I thought that was at least an improvement on the cloth of gold canopy used in the previous coronation, but (pointless) debates are raging as to whether this is an ancient practice or was simply introduced in the previous service to shield the Queen from the TV cameras, not for purposes of sacredness, but understandable coyness, if she actually had to bare her breast bone in puritan 1950s Britain. But as any church leader knows, anything performed twice in a church becomes a tradition. All this goes to show that I did actually watch it, while doing other things - the whole shooting match from the pre-service concert with yer wumman in that lemon-