Time rings the changes. It seems but yesterday I was a skinny kid desperate to stay up for ‘the bells’ and hopefully a wee glass of ginger wine or raspberry wine, sometimes, even a glass of port (not sure which age this misdemeanour happened). Mid teenage years meant staying up all night and feeling very adult then going to a ‘New Year’s Conference’ the following day like a halve-shut knife. New Years Conferences were an institution. In fact in Brethren churches there were (and still are) a number of such conferences. You had a choice. Also they covered several days. My itinerary in the early years was Hartley Street Glasgow Bible Reading on New Year’s Eve (2 hours), New Stevenston Conference on New Year’s Day (5 hours four speakers, 11.00-4.00), generally Whitburn (I think) on the 2nd during the day(another four or five hours) followed by Hartley Street Missionary Conference in the evening (over two hours 7-9, I think). Finally, another conference from an assortment on the third. After each conference we were normally invited to someone’s home for dinner – yes dinner, and there may have been twenty or more folks there. The conferences varied in size from a couple of hundred to five or six hundred. I enjoyed those days – listening to the speakers and eying up the ‘talent’.
Married in my twenties we both found ourselves members of the Hartley Street Assembly (Brethren churches are called assemblies). Hartley Street really put on a spiritual carnival at New Year (traditionally Scots celebrate New Year rather than Christmas, only recently has this changed). The merry-go-round was New Year’s Eve Conversational Bible Reading, New Years Day Conference, Missionary Conference on Second followed by four weeks or more of special gospel outreach services each evening bar Friday. During this period it was up to the local fellowship to entertain visiting believers. That meant it was up to us. The schedule was heavy. It was exhausting but exhilarating. We wouldn’t have had it any other way and we knew no different. Going back to work in school-teaching was a rest.
My thirties brought some changes. Ill health meant a more limited lifestyle. We were in a different church. New Year’s Eve was celebrated by a Church Ceilidh and New Year’s day by a church ramble. Adjustment was needed; something was lost and something gained. An over frenetic church life gave way to one of a more even keel. The new church was more ‘open’ and somewhat of a culture shift; women had short hair, wore make-up and didn’t necessarily have a head covering. Reflecting on the relative godliness of the folks in the two congregations is interesting. Both, I suspect come out fairly even. Harley Street Assembly, a recognised ‘strict’ assembly had many good and godly people in it. However, it also had a legalistic element who had power and wielded it. They had a rigid mindset that imposed their conscience on others. The result (as in many strict churches, Brethren or otherwise) was an oppressive and cultural rigidity that stifled initiative and freedom to joy in the Lord. Strict churches tend to be at the mercy of the most extreme conscience who is almost inevitably poorly versed in Scripture. Greenview, the church to which I now belong is more open. It has, I reckon, at its core as many godly folks as Harley Street. Legalism is not its chief danger, rather assimilation is always its potential nemesis. In strict churches the danger is nothing goes: in open churches the danger is anything goes. Yet without doubt, I have personally found the spiritual atmosphere of Greenview conducive to personal growth in grace. There I have found many godly examples to emulate and godly soul-mates on the pilgrimage of faith.
My forties saw me perceptibly slowing. A lethal combination of the onset of middle age and my already debilitated health was remorselessly taking its toll. New Year’s Eve Ceilidhs were too demanding. We began to do the unthinkable and go to bed before midnight. The New Year arrived unnoticed. Over the years I had done a fair bit of preaching and loved socializing; both slowly but surely diminished over the decade. The end of the decade saw me forced by health into early retirement from work.
My fifties have arrived with a vengeance. I am halfway through them. Life has been more tolerable in retirement since I now can live more easily within my limitations. Last night both of us were in bed at about 9.30 and not up until late the following morning (I need twelve hours to avoid headaches and symptoms of extreme tiredness). Yet I enjoy life, we enjoy life. My wife is a soul-mate extraordinaire. Despite suffering from rheumatoid arthritis which limits her she is always optimistic and full of fun. She loves the Lord. I have a son and daughter-in-law I love who try to keep me young, and busy with projects in their home. I have good and loyal friends – my Samwise Gamgees. I do a bit of writing (this blog and some longer articles) which I hope the occasional person may read and benefit from. I can do a little visiting and a little supporting of fellow believers who are more on the front line. I look forward to the coming year.
More particularly, I look forward to the Coming of Christ. I don’t look for death, that is not a normal Christian desire, but I do look for Christ’s coming. I look forward to a new heavens and new earth where righteousness is at home. I look forward to a renewed body, reinvigorated and without the debilities of age and sickness. I look forward to the community of redeemed and perfected saints in the new creation. I say in my heart, ‘Lord Jesuis, Come Quickly’. My only caveat is there are those I specifically wish to be part of that everlasting Kingdom who are not yet as far as I know ‘in Christ’. For their sakes I am glad the Lord ‘delays’ his Coming. In the meantime I seek to live in such a way that I may be worthy of that Coming, praising God continuously for his grace that covers all my sins and is preparing me for his heavenly kingdom.
I hope you share with me in these longings. Have a Happy New Year.
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