These Lively Oracles

How often have we got involved in a project or church work and only to be left out when it came to everyone getting their praise and thanks. Actually, it happens to us all more often than we think. We contribute something to help someone else along the way and then we find that people don’t even remember our names or what it was we actually did. There have been many projects that I have been involved in some small way or other and when it came to the completion of the project everyone else went off for their cups of tea and hand-shaking while other people were left to tidy up afterwards. But I have also found myself involved in projects that I didn’t really like or enjoy and my contribution was minimal and I only did what was asked of me. So I was glad to see everyone else move along and enjoy what they were doing. This thought came to me recently when I was listening to a study in Matthew’s Gospel. It is the account where Jesus told two of His disciples to go into the town and bri...

Sunday nights at my childhood home were always a strange time for me. I don’t quite know the words to express my feelings of those times but I can only describe them as having “a sense of an ending”. The weekend was all but over, but it was not quite ended. Mum had made a lovely Sunday dinner, all of the weekend activities had ceased, and the family were all sitting watching television. There was no more time left to do anything that could be considered a weekend activity. All the preparations for the week ahead had been completed – work stuff, school stuff, home stuff. And there was nothing left to do but sit and watch television. Or read. Or play games. Too early to go to bed. Too late to go outside. Children’s television programs had finished for the day. We were into adult viewing time now. And the children sat together and carried out their various activities. These feelings were compounded in winter time by the darkness outside. We were indoors in the warmth. And having fin...

I bought a new suit this week. I’ve been looking around a few clothing shops and decided to try one popular clothing shop that has been in the city for decades. However, either nothing fitted or I just didn’t feel comfortable in them. One jacket that I tried on didn’t quite meet in middle so that it couldn’t be buttoned. “Would you really want the jacket to button?” the shop worker asked me. I didn’t even answer his question and decided to try other shops. I went and tried another shop were the gentleman behind the counter was well advanced in years and had all the experience of dealing with customers of all shapes and sizes. “I’d like to try on a new suit please”, I said. He looked at me with a glint in his eye and said “Certainly sir. Would you prefer the mahogany or oak?” I knew what he meant and just laughed. With that knowing smile he just turned, went to his clothing rail and lifted down a jacket. “Try this one for starters, Sir” he said. It fitted perfectly. The only thing that ...

I used to have a scar on my leg. It has faded now, but when I was younger it was quite visible. Especially in the sunshine when I got a little bit of suntan on my legs. The wound would glow an angry red colour. I remember exactly how I got it. I was taking part in a competition with a youth organisation and the section that I was in involved walking through some barbed wire. I slipped on wet ground and fell right into the middle of the wire and made a 5 inch gash in my leg. I was taken to the medical van nearby where a doctor recommended that I have it stitches inserted to close the wound. But I refused to have them. You see, I remember another time at a very early age where I received a nasty wound that needed stitches and I remembered the pain and the crying that came with the stitches. I didn’t want to feel that pain again. And so, I refused the treatment. The wound took a bit longer to heal, but I survived. I don’t believe that I was afraid of getting stitches for I have been throu...