Author Archives: Chris Goan

The bearing of burdens…

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Our housegroup met tonight- as we do every Tuesday.  A smaller group than usual, just 7 of us. We have been reading through the Gospel of Mark and talking and debating the meaning of these wonderful stories. Encountering again the words of Jesus, recorded by someone who was right there to hear them spoken…

I needed to be there tonight more than usual. I was tired and weary, with a familiar weight on my soul that I feel like a band around my chest. Nothing dramatic- nothing unexpected, just the old black dog reasserting himself and shadowing me again for a while. A window given by a combination of circumstance and vulnerabilities that never quite go away.

Before we began to read, we spent some time in a simple meditation. We sat around a table on which were stones and rocks brought in from the garden, a small cross and a jug of water and glasses to drink from.  Audrey read these familliar words from Matthew 11-

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

We were then invited to take a stone and consider the burdens we were carrying. And to deliberately lay them down at the foot of the cross.

Next, it was suggested that we drink in water, as a sign of God’s promise to bring life and refreshment- to fill us with living water.

But I rebelled a little. I did not want to lay down my stone. The more I looked at it, the more fascinated I was by the shape in it- which was entirely natural- cracks revealed as the stone was eroded by the action of waves on the beach we picked it up on.

What was I looking at?

Initially it looked as though I was looking at a man- and I wondered if this somehow symbolised a person.

But then I realised that the markings on the rock actually looked like a man with his arms and legs wrapped around a huge burden- and that in fact, they were carrying this burden.

Almost like they had taken on the weight of others…

It seemed to me that there was a message here of promise- or perhaps a reminder of a promise. My burden is being carried- not by me, although I easily labour under the weight of it. Rather the burden is being borne by someone else. Leaving me with the possibility of lightness and freedom. Because he is gentle and humble in heart…

This life of faith is wrapped up in mystery and doubt, or at least it is for me. But today I hold in my hand a solid sermon in stone.

And for those of us who look for doubt- we will find it.

But we should also consider this. At some point, we picked up a few stones on a beach, and left them in our garden amongst a rockery. There are thousands of stones there. Michaela gathered a few, and as part of a meditation, at a time of need, I picked up this very one…

Chance?

Serendipity?

Or- a God who seeks after us, despite everything?

A weekend with old friends…

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We have just had a lovely weekend with our friends Andy and Clare, along with their kids Sam and Hannah.  The sun shone, and it was great to spend time with them all, and for them to meet some of our friends up here too.

We have known them for a long time- I reckon I have known Andy half of my life, and Clare not much less. We have been around each other through lots of changes and challenges. We attended the same church in England, and Andy and I played music and led worship. We also spent a lot of time in the mountains together.

Life sends you in different directions. We moved to Scotland, but Andy has taken the radical step of stepping outside the rat race (he was an IT consultant/project manager) and working for a Christian charity called Fusion.

In fact, if you are interested in how church might better connect with the community that surrounds its crumbling walls- then I recommend you check out some of the things that they are doing. In fact, Andy would love to hear from you if you want to know more- he has responsibility for developing contacts in the North of the UK- and Scotland.

Some photos (note that Clare managed to avoid the lens- she is good at that)-

Lent, and ’40’…

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I recieved this lovely e-mail the other day-

Dear Chris,

This is the second year I have used 40 through Lent and I am loving it again but in a completley new way.

Isn’t it amazing how God can speak to you differently even when the words are familiar?



I bought my copy at Lee Abbey a year after I had first seen it; it had called to me right from the start!
It is so lovely to hear that things that you have written are meaningful to others. It is almost like hearing people praising your child.

You can still get hold of ’40’ from Proost.
It is not too late to make your own Lenten journey…



Find me O my father

Make me.

Take me back to you

My throat is cracked

But thirst is more

For you

My stomach craves

A food that feeds only this;

My soul.

So I walk

Desperate

Close to falling

Stumbling

To you

More stuff in our local paper…

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You may well already know, dear readers, of my recent rather dramatic act of self publicism.

Following this, there was also the rather unfortunate letter published in our local paper, which categorised me as an ‘idiot’.

Today, the letters page of the good old Dunoon Observer is mostly about our family. There were three responses to the letter mentioned above- from 2 of my friends (no money exchanged hands) and also from someone I did not know. The letters bring compassion, common sense, and an understanding of the risks involved in all of life.

Even though I had taken a decision not to reply myself, and had wondered about the point of such a discourse, in the end, I am grateful that the other side of the issue has been expressed so well. Thanks guys!

Also in the paper this week I was very surprised to see a letter from my mother in law Mary!

It was a letter thanking people for their support during Robert’s (my step father in law) illness. Robert has spent weeks in hospital undergoing the first round of chemotherapy as part of the treatment for leukaemia.

What Mary’s letter was referring to was that some folk who meet to pray and talk about God-stuff at our house put together a box for Robert during his time in hospital. It contained lots of envelopes to be opened over the days and weeks he was in hospital- with poems, prayers, sweeties, dvds, books and jokes. It became a ritual for him to open the envelopes each day, and I think (and hope) it was a real blessing to him- and to Mary.

Robert was discharged from hospital on the day of opening of the last envelope. You could not make that up could you?

It makes me want to sing of the beauty of small things, and people who think that life should be about bringing joy to others in a time of great need.

Robert is due back in hospital for more treatment soon- and he is so far away from where we live, if constantly in our thought and prayers. He is probably reading this, and will protest my choice of photo!

I’ll post a better one of you Robert, taken when I next see you!

Michaela’s poem…

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I love my wife.

Sorry to get all soppy, but I do.

She still sometimes sends me cards for no particular reason and yesterday, she sent me one with a poem inside, which I am going to reproduce here.

Words are such wonderful things- they flex like muscles and can hold you in their tender embrace.

We have our list of dreams

Of sunsets and adventures

And our bags are packed

One with troubles

One with hopes

And tea bags

And good music

Medicine for the soul

Some friends will expect news

Pack the address book too

Are we ready?

Do not forget the map

And the itinerary-

Some adventure

And some stillness

We climb into the week

And head off

Let me carry your bag of troubles

I’ll meet you at the weekend

In a cafe with yellow walls

That feels like home

We’ll dream again

Share memories of the week

And smile in the family album

MG March 2010


RIP Michael Foot…

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I was saddened today to hear of the death of Michael Foot, journalist, writer and former leader of the Labour Party whilst in opposition from 1980 to 1983.

Foot was the leader of the Labour party at the time I discovered politics. It was a time that we can barely remember let alone understand- when great ideologies confronted each other across the dispatch box. On the one side, Thatcherism– in all its free market elitism and on the other, a Labour ideal of the rise of moral egalitarianism, and the battle for a fairer and more equal society.

It was a time before sound bites, and when media manipulation was not the primary skill required by a political leader. Rather, the ability to debate with passion and integrity, and to move people by the power of your voice- these things were still of value.

And Foot was part of this long tradition- a Labour man from a very non working class background, who nevertheless will forever be associated with ‘Old Labour’, whose core principles still have a hold over me.

Foot also presided over a party whose radical policies of nuclear disarmament and opposition to war in the Falkland islands were formed in a time of chaotic social change. It was a time when the left wing of the party, under the strong influence of supporters of Tony Benn.

And yet Labour suffered their heaviest ever defeat in the General Election in 1983.

Foot, aged 67, frail and always scruffy in his Donkey Jackets, crumpled suits and wild hair, resigned soon afterwards.

Principled, passionate, intelligent and perhaps a little eccentric. How I miss politicians like Foot. I suspect we will not see his like again…

By way of a tribute- here are some clips. Each one a little time capsule from a different time. From the dark years of mass unemployment, the decimation of Britain’s industrial base, and before the euphoria (then betrayal) many of us felt under Tony Blair…

A bit more on risk taking…

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(Posted from the Ferry using my dongle thingy. Oh the joy of technology… )

So, my friend and co-conspirator Nick has taken up blogging! Nick has a website in connection to his life coaching and outdoor instructing- check it out…

In his last post, I got a mention- but the main thrust was the small matter of risk taking- which has been a theme here too of course. Nick quotes a few lines from a poem which I rather like. I can not find an author attributed- so if you know who wrote it, please let me know.

I think the poem deals rather well with the wider issues of risk- not just the white knuckle outdoor stuff, but also the issue of social risk- the danger of opening ourselves up to others around us.  Another vitally important theme I think…

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool;
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental;
To reach out for another is to risk involvement
To expose feeling is to risk exposing your true self.

To place your ideas and your dreams
before the crowd is to risk their loss
To love is to risk not being loved in return
To live is to risk dying
To hope is to risk despair
To try is to risk failure.

But risk must be taken,
because the greatest hazard in life
is to risk nothing
The person who risks nothing, does nothing,
has nothing and is nothing;
They may avoid suffering and sorrow,
but they simply cannot learn,
feel change, grow, love, Live
Chained by their certitude, they are a slave,
they have forfeited freedom;
Only the person who risks is free.

Author unknown

Exposed

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I am exposed

A fat seal left on barnacled rocks

Bent like a black banana

By the ebb of tides-

Whose rhythms I should know better

Soft over-blown body

Burnt by the sardonic gaze

Of the cruel sun

I live only in the hope

That the waters that spat me

Will turn again

Will roll me in the weeds and wracks

Will hide me

In the dappled deep

Wide open spaces…

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I went for a walk.

Thanks to all of you who have been so kind and supportive in relation to my earlier post. In particular there were lots of comments about risk. Life without risk, it seems, is not really possible, but should we try to live like this, we may find that we have no life at all. Being drawn out to adventure seems to me to be an essential characteristic of the life of faith, as well as being essential to psychological and physical health and well being.

Let be honest though- some of these activities can indeed be self indulgent. They can be about the pursuit of an adrenaline high, or an experience that disconnects us from the wider community we embrace and serve. Seeking after transcendent experience in wild places can be a form of idolatry too. Yesterday a friend who was planning to come with me instead helped another friend erect a garden shed. He may well have made the better choice…

However, yesterday I just needed space. My head was full of ‘stuff’, and my temptation was just to find a hole to hide in.

So instead, I climbed up some mountains, and found some deep snow.

An activity of course that was not without risk…