what sort are you?

A seemingly random question, to which I will return at the end of this blog: if you were to describe yourself as a car or a motorbike, what sort of car or bike would you be?

This is predominantly a week of preparation for me. As well as having to prepare for two services (incl sermons) for Sunday I have prepared a story to tell at Bright Sparks (like an activity-rich toddler group), and still need to work on a school assembly tomorrow for years 1-3, an Alpha talk for Wednesday and a couple of sessions for a 20s-30s group from another church on Saturday. It’s all a bit busy and I am worried I will go stir crazy in my study.

So it was initially with disappointment that I noticed that on Thursday I am spending the day away from the study at a ‘retreat’ / ‘reflection’ day with a number of local Baptist Ministers. I can’t spare the time.

Except that if I don’t spare the time I will be diminished in my relationship with God and therefore in my ministry. I do find that I am blessed, energised and encouraged in preparation. But it is not the same as spending focused time with God. There is a temptation to allow my preparation to become my personal devotional time. But it is not the same as coming to God with an open Bible, an empty agenda and space in the day. There is a temptation to allow myself to seek to worship God only in the songs I sing on Sundays. But it is not the same as living a life of worship and thankfulness.

So it is with a glad heart that I am going to spend the day away on Thursday. I am looking forward to what God may say and do.

So what sort of car or motorbike are you*? It doesn’t matter which you are, none of them will go once they have run out of petrol. Neither will you if you don’t refuel spiritually.

Be blessed, be a blessing.

I went into town the other day, I was only away from the car for about 5 minutes and when I came out there was a traffic warden writing a parking ticket. So I went up to him and said, ‘Come on buddy, how about giving a guy a break?’

He ignored me and continued writing the ticket.

So I called him a yellow and black striped parking fascist. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having bald tires!!

So I told him he had a face like a horse. He finished the second ticket and put it on the car with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket!!

This went on for about 20 minutes, the more I abused him, the more tickets he wrote.

I didn’t care. My car was parked around the corner.

*I reckon I may be a Ford Mondeo with a sun roof – family oriented, fairly bog-standard, with a bit missing on top.

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