I'm meant to be writing a sermon this morning. Sometimes that's an easy task, but on occasions like today, I just don't know where to begin.
I've been given the story of Jesus healing a woman in the synagogue on the sabbath, to the indignation of the religious types, who think that he's making a point against them. "There are six days on which he could do a miracle!" the protest, "Why does he have to do it on the sabbath?"
Jesus in reply calls them hypocrites, says, that even on the sabbath they look after their animals, leading them out for water and so on, so shouldn't they look after their people as well? What sort of religion is it that cares for rules more than people?
Mine, I suppose.
Rules are easy and safe. You know where you are with rules.
Yep, I like rules. Do this, do that. If x happens, don't do y. Easy.
Much better than the horrible feeling of "Did I say the wrong thing? Have I offended her? Did I misunderstand what he was saying?"
But I can't stand up and say that. Play safe! Rules are easy.
So what can I say?
There's always recent experience to draw on - have I had an experience recently that's relevant that I can bring in?
Errrrrrr ... nope.
What books have I been reading?
Aha! I've just finished Graham Poll's book, Seeing Red. All about a football referee.
There must be something in that.
Something about applying the rules but knowing when to break them? Something about rules being a good servant but a bad master? Poor old Graham Poll will always be remembered for making a mistake - showing three yellow cards to a player before sending him off. Like a goalkeeper who fumbles the ball, (remember Robert Green, Scott Carson or Paul Robinson?) one error ruins your career.
Yeah maybe.
I need to go away and think. What does God want me to say this week to these people?
Hold on, I need to consult the rule book.
