The Rev. Stuart Holmes, my dad, was ‘called to higher service,’ a polite way of saying died, six years ago yesterday. I still miss our conversations about families, life, and the church. If he were still alive, he would have been 94 years old. That is the same age as a friend and former broadcasting colleague in the UK, Josie Smith, who is still alive and will regularly tell me that ‘age is just a number.’
She recently said in an email, “There are many good things about being very old. One develops a recognition of one’s weakness, of the need for help, and (if one relaxes into it and stops being frustrated because things are not as they used to be) one is prepared not only to accept such help but to ask for it where appropriate. There is a certain wry enjoyment, too, to be had when, during a telephone call to some organization, one is asked for the date of birth, as often happens. Supplying this often generates a reaction from the other end which is usually one of disbelief that one is still compos mentis, living independently with no domestic help, and in charge of one’s financial affairs and general decision-making. Not to mention using a computer, though certainly with less skill than my older great-grandchildren, who seem to have been born hard-wired into their Devices.”
What I learned from Josie and still remember today is that sometimes our bodies may be old, but inside, we are still me. She told me of one of her grandchildren saying, ‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in your nineties!’ Josie replied, “All the people I have ever been, at whatever age, are still in there as part of the ‘me’ I am now, as are all the people whose influence has contributed to what I have become, and I know well how it feels to be fortyish.
Not too long ago, Josie presented a series of radio programs that explored the beliefs and practices of local faith groups with their leaders and lay members. As an ecumenist, Josie would say, “None of us has a monopoly of truth.” Increasingly I find that to be true as well. I must confess there are times when I have felt closer to some open-minded friends of other faiths than I have ever felt to some fellow Methodists who have closed minds. We can listen to those who experience life within different traditions, and we might learn from them – God’s thoughts are always higher than our thoughts.
In preparing for preaching in Lent and Easter, I have been reflecting on things we once thought impossible but now are a reality. Science and technology have advanced so much that we regularly do now. What 90 years ago was considered impossible. We have learned so much about the world around us that we see and understand far more than we ever thought possible. For example, quantum physics has revealed the inseparability of all matter, however far apart it has become geographically; this could be a profound revelation for theology, too.
Over the years, I have come to understand (and the more I ponder it, the more obvious it seems) that as God created all things ‘from nothing,’ then all things come from the ‘God substance.’ We are all – trees, grass, whales, people, bees, and wasps, and the very earth we walk on and eventually return to – not just made in God’s image, as we are assured, but eternally part of that very God who is our Father and Who is in us, whether we accept that or not, and however far we have moved away from the original pattern we can never ‘flee from God’s presence.’
So, though I find world news unbearable and weep with and for all those who suffer for whatever reason, I know in my bones that we remain children of God, not by adoption but because we are born in the image of God. Those who find God in nature are partly right, too. But ‘partly right’ is all any of us can ever be. This week I want to encourage you, like our friends the Quakers, to look for and find ‘that which is of God in everyone.’
Shalom to you, my friend,
Pastor Andrew
Join us this Sunday at 10.30 a.m. onsite or via live stream
Office Hours
Monday - Friday: 8:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m.