Wheat or what?

 

THERE ARE WEEDS EVERYWHERE THESE DAYS

Matthew 13:24 onwards

Jesus told them another parable, “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

“‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.

“The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’

“‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters, First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

Today’s society is full of weeds. These are normally important people, educated scholars and scientists, celebrities, media personalities, influencers with large followings on social media. They seem to have made it their mission in life to tell all who are listening that there is no God. They often ridicule the very notion of believing in God, and portray it as antiquated superstition worthy of derision. Because of their eloquent ability to express their views, they are capable of changing vulnerable minds to their way of thinking. 

Let us pray for them.

Excerpt from 21st CENTURY PARABLES

CLICK HERE

 

For what is Faith?

 

To have Faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see. (Hebrews 11:1).

If I were to ask what is the opposite of Faith; some would say Doubt. Because Doubt makes you question what it is you believe, or have been taught to believe.

But what if I were to say that the opposite of Faith is Certainty. 

Faith is believing in someone or something without any proof. In blind trust.

But what if you were certain that God exists? What if you were certain that Jesus is His only Son? What if you were certain that you are loved and cared for and that no matter what happens in life, you are certain that God is with you, and you are certain that it will all turn out right?

Faith is believing with your eyes closed perhaps.

The opposite of that is believing with eyes wide open and with Certainty.

"Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." (John 20:19-31).

Will you marry me?

 

Years ago, before I got married, one day I was having a discussion with a priest about marriage. Sadly, he is now dead; but I recall he had an unusual attitude towards marriage, especially since he was a priest.

He said to me that young people should not get married unless they have lived with each other for a while first. Rather strange advice you might say. But being a Catholic priest, he added that they should not have sex before marriage. He limited their fun to playing Monopoly, Chess or Scrabble; he said with a smile.

He advised that people should get to know each other better before getting married. There is nothing like seeing a woman in bed with her hair in curlers and cream all over her face to make you decide whether you want to spend the rest of your life with her!

He was joking of course, but he made his point well. Often, people get married without really knowing the other person well. Their beliefs, their values in life, their ambitions, hopes and wishes. Whether they want to have children or not, what are their priorities in life and so on. Too many people, he claimed, get married because they "love" each other without even knowing what love is and the sacrifices and pains you sometimes have to go through to keep that love alive well after the honeymoon.

"Young people these days," he said, "are infatuated with each other seeing their knight in shining armour, or their princess, rather than experiencing the true meaning of love, caring, loyalty and affection which should ideally last them a lifetime together!"

He was a wise priest. And that was a long time ago.

I wonder whether young people today view marriage in the same context as he did.

Le restaurant cordial

 

This happened some years ago when we were young and life was different and we had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun; but the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.

 

I do so hate plagiarism. I hope one day no one in the world will ever resort to plagiarism. You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one. I hope some day you'll join us and the world will be as one. No plagiarism. 

 

Anyway, as I was saying, this happened some years ago. A couple of friends and I were visiting Yorkshire and travelling from town to city touring round and staying in hotels. One evening we decided to go to a well-to-do restaurant. We had to book first and also wear ties. You know the kind of restaurant I mean.

 

As it were, it was a restaurant attached to a pub with mostly local clientèle. We were the odd ones out and people looked at us as we got in. So we decided to play a ruse. (My idea). 

 

One of my friends was/still is Italian. So I suggested he only speaks in Italian. From now on - no English. I decided to speak only in French and called myself Pierre Cornichon, and suggested that the other friend would be our translator.

 

The waiter came with the menus. My Italian friend and I pretended not to understand and our "English" friend translated.

 

I said, "Je voudrais une bierre blonde s'il vous plait!"

 

The waiter whispered to my English friend, "he is asking about the blonde waitress? these French have a reputation, Sir!"

 

Eventually we managed to order a meal which took some time with each one speaking their "native" language and our friend translating in English.

 

When the meal arrived, the owner of the pub brought three little flags, a Union Jack, a French and an Italian flag which he placed at the centre of the table saying, "We are all friends in the European Union now!"

 

"Qu'est ce qu'il dit?" I asked and my English friend translated.

 

We got excellent service throughout the meal with the owner offering us an aperitif to start with at his cost. 

 

At the end of the meal, after a few beers, the devil got me to start singing, "Non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regrette rien. Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait. Ni le mal. Tout ça m'est bien égal. Non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regrette rien."

 

Not to be outdone, my Italian friend got up and started singing, "O Sole Mio" and "Vincerooooo!"

 

I thought we'd be thrown out. But some of the locals joined in and soon we were all singing, "Knees up Mother Brown. Knees up Mother Brown. Under the table you must go. Ee-aye, Ee-aye, Ee-aye-oh!"

 

Have you ever sung Knees up Mother Brown in a French accent? Or an Italian one? They gave us the lyrics to sing from.

The Letter

 

It arrived two days ago. The letter. And ever since then the skies have been dark, the house has become gloomy, and life has turned another shade of grey. (Excerpt from my next washing powder advert: Fifty Shirts Of Grey).

The letter was from Mr & Mrs XXXX

This is what it said:

Hi friends, 

It's been such a long time since we last met. At least seven years. Well, here's good news. We are due to arrive in XXXXX on Friday and we thought we could meet up for the weekend. It would be fun to see each other once again. Give us a ring on XXXXXX or better still, why don't we surprise you and call at your home. Have the coffee ready!

Ciao,

XXXXXXX

Well, my blood ran cold and passed on its dropping temperature to the rest of the family. As the letter said, we have not seen this couple for seven years or so and that is not long enough for my liking. Let me hasten to add that these are not bad people. On the contrary. They are nice, kind and gentle people. But they are the world's most boring people. If there were such an entry in the Guinness Book Of Records they would hold that record in perpetuity. I believe God creates boring people so we can appreciate the more normal ones. 

This couple were neighbours of ours many years ago when we lived in London. They never spoke much. When we met over the low-level back garden fence he would stand by the fence and say inane things like "it's a sunny day today!" I would continue working and say "yes it is" wondering whether perhaps it is more appropriate to work in the garden in torrential rain instead and a million miles an hour tornadoes. 

He would then say, "this is the third day it's been sunny this week". Again I would agree benignly. He would add something else like, "I like it sunny!" until eventually I would pretend to be tired and go in the house to hide. 

His wife was just as mind-numbingly dreary having had a charisma transplant from a mouldy potato salad. I was unfortunate enough one day to coincide my gardening with her hanging her washing on the line to dry. She pegged her underwear on the line and gave me a lecture on the various styles of bras and matching underpants. I could not believe my ears ... or my eyes. As she hanged her under-clothing on the line the conversation, which she started I must add, turned from "good morning, it's a nice day," to the benefits of hanging clothes to dry outdoors as opposed to machine drying. She then casually explained and showed me how machine drying can damage the delicate embroidery on undergarments like bras and underpants. 

I just continued digging the ground and getting hotter and hotter as she prattled on totally oblivious that this was not the kind of conversation to have with a man. Especially since when I pretended to look at the garment she was holding I inadvertently stuck the garden fork through my shoe and injured my foot ... luckily not badly enough to render me unconscious.

I repeat, these are not bad people. They are good kind folks living in a world of their own and not realising the effect they have on people like me.

After we left London, we continued sending Christmas cards to each other. That's the only contact we've had with them for seven years or so.

Now they are coming here ... they want to meet up again ... why? 

What can we possibly do to avoid this ordeal? Is it possible to sell a house and move to a cave in the outer-Hebrides within two days?

Do they intend to stay with us for the weekend? The letter does not say so. I hesitate to phone in case they take it as an invitation to stay with us.

Shall we just pack our bags and go away ourselves for the weekend and pretend we never received their letter on time?

Can any of you provide us with refuge? I promise not to talk about underwear.

Watch out ... there's a camera about!

 

I’m sure you’ve seen those programs where they stop unsuspecting people in the street and film them in funny situations for showing on TV afterwards. Some of the situations can be quite hilarious and the victims usually laugh and agree to have the film shown on TV.

Years ago I worked as a junior with an independent film maker and we were assigned to do such a film.

As I speak French well, the idea was that I would stop people in the street and ask them directions to a particular place in a heavy French accent. As they spoke, I’d pretend not to understand and I’d keep changing the location where I wanted to go.

The camera was hidden well out of view and the sound engineer explained the technical bits.

“The director will speak to you through this ear-piece” he said, “listen to his every instructions.”

I nodded.

“This is the latest microphone model. Cutting edge engineering technology.” he continued, “It looks just like a £1 coin, just two centimetres in diameter. Yet it picks up sound from a great distance.”

I pretended to be impressed.

“It doesn’t have a clip!” I said, “How will I clip it to my shirt?”

“You don’t” he replied with a smile, “you put it straight on your chest under the shirt. It goes straight on your skin.”

“You mean it is glued on me?”

“Not glued … we use the very latest adhesive solution on the market. Totally invisible, just like water. A tiny drop and the microphone is in place and no one will suspect you’re wearing it”.

Moments later I was ready for my first victim. I stood in the street looking confusingly in a map book and pretending to be lost. A tall man in a white priest’s collar walked towards me from the left. The director said in my ear “Aha … a man of the cloth. He’s bound to be very helpful. Stop him and … ACTION!”

“Scuze moi Monsieur!” I said in my best French accent “I cannot find ze hotel … where iz eet?”

He looked at the map and then proceeded to give me directions.

“Excellent,” whispered the director in my ear, “keep him talking!”

“Tres bien …” I said “Zat is ze hotel … but ze restaurant … eet haz moved … where iz ze restaurant?”

At this point I felt the microphone slip a bit from my chest. Obviously the adhesive wasn’t as good as I was told. It stopped again on my stomach.

“The sound quality has deteriorated,” the voice in my ear said, “get closer to him.”

I moved closer to the priest and asked another question.

“No good,” said the voice “I hear rumbling as if we’re on a train.”

I hadn’t eaten that morning because of nervousness. This was my first live interview. My knees were trembling. I had butterflies in my stomach and their knees were trembling too. A symphony of hunger pangs and trapped wind played softly into the microphone much to the distress of the director and the sound engineer.

“What the **** is that?” cursed the director in my ear, “fix it quick.”

I surreptitiously pretended to scratch my stomach whilst continuing the conversation in broken English with the priest. I tried in vain to push the microphone up to its original position but it slipped down a further few inches and stopped below the waistline !!!

“The rumbling has stopped” said the voice, “now we can’t hear a thing. Get even closer to him!”

How do I do that? I thought.

I can hardly ask him to bend down and address me down there so I can hear him better!

Can you imagine the conversation?

“Excuse me Father, I’ve had an ear transplant that went wrong and they put my ear down there. Can you speak a bit lower down so I can hear you more clearly?”

I ignored the director’s frantic screams and I tried to move the microphone again. But you can hardly scratch down there in public whilst conducting an interview with a priest … or with anyone else for that matter!

Perhaps if I pretended to get my handkerchief out of my trouser pocket, that should do it … Botheration!!! That didn’t work either. The microphone rolled down my trouser leg and fell on the ground.

“That’s better!” said the director’s voice “We can hear him but faintly. Get him a little closer”.

Easier said than done.

What do I do now? Do I lie down on the side-walk and say “We French are very relaxed people. We don’t panic even when we’re lost. Why not join me down here so we can discuss directions?”

I gave up in sheer frustration.

In my best English accent I said “Thank you Father. You’ve been very kind to help me; I know my way from here!”

He smiled in total confusion at my sudden grasp of the English language. He shook my hand and then … looking down he said, “Someone has dropped a £1 coin. I’ll put it in the Sunday collection plate!”

He picked up the microphone and walked away!

 

EXCERPT FROM MUCH ADO ABOUT LAUGHTER

CLICK HERE

 

Scented Candle

 

I am convinced that global warming is caused by candles. Forget all this nonsense they tell you about a hole in the ozone layer, too much pollution, burning fossil fuels and all that. The real cause of global warming is candles.

Just imagine for a moment how many candles are lit throughout the world these days. Let's start with birthday candles on your cake. And every year there's one more. How many birthday cakes are adorned with candles every day burning away and creating heat?

Then there's candles in restaurants to create a romantic atmosphere. Or candles at home at the dinner table. Or candles in church and in open air concerts when the main singer bellows a favourite song. Or candles in the bathroom too. I tell you. Who needs candles in the bathroom, and why? There's a danger of singeing one's hair for a start! And it isn't just one candle ... but many placed around the bath. What's all that about? I'd be really afraid of burning my flotilla of sailing ships!

But I tell what are the worst offenders. Scented candles.

It is now an industry in its own right with people paying a fortune for these items. Over here you can buy one scented candles for over £100 ($137). And they come in various colours and odours. Lavender, camomile, cinnamon, Christmassy smells, rose, strawberries, orange blossoms and so on. 

I mean ... what is the point? Why sit in a bath of warm soapy water already smelling of pine, or whatever other relaxing smell the soap bubbles contain, and then surround yourself with scented candles? Do all the candles in the bathroom have the same scent I wonder? Or do you have a mix of candles sending your olfactory senses into traumatic shock?

I tell you what scented candles I would like. Pizza smelling candles. That way, I would have a great appetite as soon as I leave the bath.

Or bacon scented candles. As well as making me hungry they would remind me what Miss Piggy would smell like if she caught fire. Aaaah ... roast pork. Or even roast chicken or beef scented candles.

Come on you candle manufacturers. Get a grip and wake up. That's what the world needs now. Not love sweet love, but garlic scented candles. Or fried onions ones.

There are just so many smells that can be capitalised on if only people had the right imagination. Coffee scented candles. KFC scented ones. Wet dog smell scented candles. The possibilities are endless.

Forget global warming. Light a candle and brighten the world.

You do not have to blow someone else's candle for your light to shine.

What is your favourite scent?

Biscuits

.

(Four minutes long)

What has this to do with me?

 

Imagine for a moment that you were there ... It is easy now, all these years later, to say "He is risen. He died for my sins!" But imagine you were there when it all happened.

You witnessed His arrest in the garden of Gethsemane, you followed the crowd when He was sent to His crucifixion and you stood there by the Cross and saw Him die.

How did you feel then? The chances are you did not say much but just followed silently. Understandable really. For if you said anything in protest you would probably have been arrested and perhaps beaten or killed too. So you followed silently almost acquiescing at what was happening even though you probably were not. The question that He is dying for your sins never crossed your mind. At the time, His death was not seen in this context. It was not a matter of your sins crucifying Him then.

And three days later you hear that He has been raised. Out of curiosity you run to the grave and see it empty. How do you feel now? Do you believe? Do you doubt and have your own theories as to what has happened and you tell everyone your views? Or do you continue to stay silent as you did when you followed the Cross for fear of what might happen to you?

Today ... you rejoice at His Resurrection and are grateful that He died for you. But how did you feel then? When you were there when they crucified our Lord?

WISHING ALL MY READERS

A BLESSED EASTER

FULL OF HAPPINESS JOY AND GOOD HEALTH

OFFERING A PRAYER FOR YOU ALL

GOD BLESS

Good Friday

 

You don't have to say you love me ...

 

You don't have to say you love me 

Just be close at hand

 

Today is Maundy Thursday or Holy Thursday. The day when we remember the arrest of Jesus in the garden at Gethsemane. The day when all His disciples, who had been with Him for three years and witnessed His power through His many miracles, and who should have known better; the day when they all fled away in fear. The day Judas betrayed Him and Peter denied knowing Him. 

 

The day when all who claimed they loved Him abandoned Him to His fate. 

Roll forwards two thousand years.

How about us today? Do we also abandon Christ and flee away when we hesitate to proclaim our Christian faith for fear of being laughed at, mocked and shunned by our friends?

What's it all about?

 

This is Holy Week. A very important time for all Christians. It commemorates a time when the whole course of human history changed for ever. Yet in today's world, many people just remember chocolate eggs, good food and drink, and another excuse to be extravagant.

So what is it all about? This Easter celebration and this Holy Week?

I think one of the most important factors perhaps not often focussed on is forgiveness.

This week, it is right and proper, that we remember Christ's arrest, torture and cruel death by Crucifixion. And of course, His Resurrection three days later. 

But there is more to it than that.

Jesus, the Son of God, came to this earth so we might see Him as a human. We might listen to Him, learn from Him, witness His power through His miracles, love and compassion. But He also came to earth to build a bridge once again between sinning humanity and God its Creator. It is through Jesus that we find our way back to God.

At the heart of this week is forgiveness and mercy. 

Jesus forgave the disciples for running away in fear when He was arrested. He forgave Peter for denying knowing Him. He forgave the crowd just as He was dying on the Cross for what they had done to Him. He forgave the repentant thief hanging on a cross just beside Him. I'd like to believe that He also forgave Judas who killed himself in despair for what he had done. We don't have any Biblical evidence of this last forgiveness, but let us remember that Judas was in a state of despair. He knew he had done wrong. He tried to return the money he received for betraying Jesus. He was sorry for what He had done. So I guess that an all-knowing God would have had pity on him at his darkest hour, just as He had pity on those who put Him on the Cross.

That's what's it all about. Forgiveness. Compassion. Love and Mercy.

Let us remember that when someone asks us for forgiveness. Or when we too need to seek forgiveness from God and others.