Garry spoke tonight about things that are old and new and how things change. We looked at cars, houses, phones, hair styles and clothes, and saw that most people find the newer versions of these things preferable!

The first cars often did not have a roof or protection from the elements and had to be started with a starting handle, whereas new cars have many mod cons as well as being more efficient.

Older telephones looked very different and lacked the portability of mobile phones!

Whilst we tend to believe the new is better, there are, of course, some things that we cannot make (and improve!) The sunset and sunrise happen each day: we do not control these, but God is able to give us new days, a new year and is with us through all the changes we face. We can’t improve on what He does, but we can embrace the new year as His gift to us and move forward with hope and trust.

To perceive means ‘to become aware or conscious of (something); come to realise or understand.’ Perhaps the most surprising use of this verb in the Bible is in Genesis 19, the story of Lot and his daughters. After Lot’s miraculous deliverance from Sodom, which resulted in his wife being turned into a pillar of salt because she looked back (a sermon in itself!), he and his daughters settled in a cave. The daughters, frustrated by their isolation and fearful for the future, decided they would take matters into their own hands and sleep with their father in order to keep the family name going. We read, ‘That night they got their father to drink wine, and the older daughter went in and slept with him. He was not aware of it when she lay down or when she got up.’ (Gen 19:33) Lot was not aware of what was happening. He did not perceive it! The daughters decided this was hugely successful: ‘So they got their father to drink wine that night also, and the younger daughter went in and slept with him. Again he was not aware of it when she lay down or when she got up.’ (Gen 19:35) Obviously this story shows us the dangers of drunkenness as well as the sheer folly of taking matters into our own hands (their children, Moab and Ammon, were to become thorns in the side of God’s people, Israel, in time to come, an indication that it’s always better to wait for God’s ways than doing things in the way of the world.) But it also shows us how we can fail to see or perceive or be aware of things that, for most of us, would seem an impossible situation. How can you really not be aware that you have had sex with someone?! How can you not notice that this is your daughter?! But so often, we simply do not see spiritual things. Spiritual truth can only be seen with spiritual eyes: as Paul puts it, ‘in words taught by the Spirit, explaining spiritual realities with Spirit-taught words.’ (1 Cor 2:13) He goes on to say, ‘the person without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God but considers them foolishness, and cannot understand them because they are discerned only through the Spirit.’ (1 Cor 2:14) We need spiritual vision if we are to perceive and see what God is doing.

Our expectations of how God will act, our preoccupation with self, our obsession with the past or with the future can all hinder us from seeing the new thing and the now thing God is doing. To perceive and understand what God is doing means we have to have spiritual vision; we have to look beyond what our natural eyes see and hold on to the promises of God. John, in his great vision of the new heaven and new earth, heard these words: ‘He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”‘ (Rev 21:5) God’s words and promises are trustworthy and true. He is making everything new and this can be His word to us today.

Will be like Elijah, people of faith? We’re told that ‘Elijah climbed to the top of Carmel, bent down to the ground and put his face between his knees.’ (1 Kings 18:42) In other words, Elijah prayed. He sought God’s face for the rain. He refused to let doubt rob him of seeing the invisible, of experiencing with his physical senses what he knew God had assured him in the spiritual realm would happen. He refused to dwell in the past; he wouldn’t even rest in the great victory over Baal he had just witnessed. Instead, he continued to seek God’s face for the physical manifestation of rain which would prove to the king yet again that he spoke the word of the Lord. He wanted to see God move in the here-and-now. We too long to see God move in this way, but must learn to perceive His actions and hold on to His promises, no matter what. Without spiritual perception, we will not see spiritual victories, but when we hold on to God in faith, we will see Him making a way in the wilderness and streams in the desert.

This morning, at our first service in 2022, we looked at Isaiah 43:18-19 and investigated the ‘new thing’ God is doing (see also Rev 21:5). God is a God of creativity and is always doing new things, but so often, we fail to perceive what He is doing. It’s too easy for us to dwell in the past or to fantasise about the future, but whilst we must remember what God has done (Deut 4:9, Deut 5:15), we must also learn not to dwell in the past, either reminiscing with rose-tinted glasses or being weighed down by failure. Like God, we must actively choose not to remember (see Heb 8:12, Heb 10:17) and learn to live in the present, God’s gift to us.

To perceive what God is doing requires spiritual vision. We will never see the impossible unless we believe God’s promises are trustworthy and true. Abraham had to believe in ‘the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not’ (Rom 4:17) before he saw God’s promise of a son and heir come true. The things God has promised must be received (and held onto) by faith. We see this in the life of the prophet Elijah. He prayed, and for three years there was no rain in Israel. (1 Kings 17-18) At the end of this period, we see him and the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel; we see the conclusive victory God brings by sending fire onto the sacrifice Elijah had prepared. (1 Kings 18:22-39) After this, Elijah tells the king, Ahab, ‘Go, eat and drink, for there is the sound of a heavy rain.’ (1 Kings 18:41) The only problem was that there was no rain.

Elijah’s servant told him numerous times there was nothing to see, no sign of rain. (1 Kings 18:43) Seven times, Elijah told him to go back. Most of us, I think, would have given up at this point. But Elijah did not give up, and the seventh time, the servant reported, ‘A cloud as small as a man’s hand is rising from the sea.’ (1 Kings 18:44) This did not look like much, but Elijah knew this was the answer to his prayer, and sure enough, ‘the sky grew black with clouds, the wind rose, a heavy rain started falling.’ (1 Kings 18:45) The word of the Lord, spoken through Elijah, proved true. There was the visible evidence of rain for all to see.

Each time that Elijah had spoken of rain, there was apparently nothing to see, nothing to perceive. But ultimately, all the people saw and felt the rain. This was no hole-in-the-corner miracle. And what God is doing now in Goldthorpe may seem insignificant, ‘as small as a man’s hand.’ It may seem like He is doing nothing, but I believe He is working now, doing a new thing, that a new thing is springing up like flowers blooming in a desert place after the rains. I believe that as churches work together in unity and faith, as God’s favour is upon us and we work alongside other organisations, God is doing a new thing, something that will bring refreshment, that will be seen as a way in the wilderness, that streams of living water will effectively be seen in the wasteland known as the Dearne Valley. The question He asks us is ‘do you not perceive it?’ and we can only perceive, see and observe if we seek God as Elijah did and believe what He says.

Casting Crowns have a song about the diversity of the church being its strength, reminding us,

‘It was the rhythm of the dancers

That gave the poets life.

It was the spirit of the poets

That gave the soldiers strength to fight.’ (‘City On A Hill’, Casting Crowns)

I spend much of my life trying to champion creativity and arguing for the value of the arts – a value which cannot be measured in monetary terms alone. Yesterday, I took my grandchildren to the National Emergency Services Museum in Sheffield, a wonderful place tracing the history of the emergency services in the U.K.

What stunned me there was my granddaughter’s reaction to a Victorian painting depicting a firefighter carrying a young girl from a blazing house. What was he doing? Why was she asleep? What happened? Would she be OK? This five-year-old girl poured forth questions about this painting and later, she said this was the most memorable part of the visit for her.

I found the painting sentimental and not particularly interesting. She found it romantic, symbolising bravery, heroism and strength. She gazed at the smoke billowing in the house as I explained the fireman was rescuing the girl from a house fire; she wanted to know why the girl was in a nightgown (I explained the fire must have started when she was asleep); she spent at least fifteen minutes in front of this painting and wanted to see it again when she got home (grateful thanks to the Internet for that!) and then went on to copy the painting herself. She was clearly inspired by it.

The arts have the capacity to capture our attention and to help us see life in different ways. I suspect my granddaughter learned more about the history of fire-fighting from this one painting than from all the vehicles and artefacts on display, because that is the way she is made. My son would have been drawn to the vehicles, to the engineering, to the precision of rescues because that is how he is made. As Casting Crowns remind us, diversity is not meant to provoke envy, competition or disdain, but to enable us to live alongside each other in harmony.

We live in a society that claims to be rational and pragmatic, but we need painters and poets as much (if not more) than politicians. The Government’s advertising campaign last year urging ballet dancers to retrain in IT was reprehensible. There is nothing wrong in ‘re-skilling’, but the notion that our society can function without the arts leads to a soulless society which most of us would shun.

My visit yesterday made me see the emergency services with new eyes, thanks to the skill of an artist and the wonder of my granddaughter. May we all see the world not only through the wonder of a child’s eyes but through the insight, foresight and vision of those people we call the creatives.

One of my Christmas traditions is to get a book about the English language each year. My father, knowing my love of words, started this tradition a number of years ago, and over the years I have received some wonderful books, including ‘Have You Eaten Grandma?’ by Gyles Brandreth, ‘Eats, Shoots and Leaves’ by Lynne Truss (on punctuation) and ‘That’s the Way It Crumbles’ by Matthew Engel. This year’s gift was ‘Word Perfect’ by Susie Dent which gives me an opportunity to expand my vocabulary one day at a time!

Today’s words include ‘apanthropy’, a ‘state of mind characterised by a love of solitude and a dislike of other people’, which made me smile, as this probably sums up many introverts during the festive period! Susie Dent writes, ‘a surfeit of human company pushes you to the point of latibulation, another pithy word, this time from Latin, from the act of hiding oneself in a corner.’ For me, it’s usually the kitchen where I hide; for my son, the bathroom! (We are dedicated introverts who definitely have a love of solitude!)

However, after twenty months of restrictions which have limited human contact, I have discovered I am not as averse to human company as I thought I was. I still need periods of time on my own to recharge and process, but more than ever before, I have learned the wisdom and truth of the Biblical statement, ‘it is not good for the man to be alone.’ (Gen 2:18)

We all need other people. We were made in God’s image, and the triune God is a God of community. Community and fellowship are essential to the Christian faith. We were not made to worship in isolation; we were not created to be apanthropic. We were made to weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice (Rom 12:15). Fellowship enables us to focus on what our God has done for us, to share ideas, to be sharpened by the differences we find in each other, to learn to love each other selflessly. Fellowship is not something we can afford to lose or to be indifferent about. We need to spend time together: ‘not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.‘ (Heb 10:25)

That’s why we always try to start the New Year together over a meal, something we will be doing again this Saturday at 4 p.m. Fellowship is an essential part of God’s people gathering together, a reminder that this intergenerational group of people have Jesus in common and therefore we gather not just as random people but as the people of God. (1 Pet 2:9-10) We need each other more than we can ever realise.

Some days are etched in your memory for ever. This one, a blisteringly hot summer’s day in the 1980s, will always be part of my ‘favourite moments.’ I was on holiday in France, enjoying the sunshine and scenery of Provence, and we arrived at Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, a tiny village nestled in a valley. This was in the days before air conditioning in cars and the journey there left us feeling jaded and almost too hot! My Dad, armed with his green Michelin guide, was confident this was a place of exceptional beauty: he was definitely not wrong.

The reason for the tiny village’s popularity was the spring flowing out of the 230 metre high cliff, a source of water which ultimately provides 360 million cubic metres of water every year. The spring poured into the river to create a beautiful shady pool under immense plane trees. The icy water provided relief from the sun’s heat as we walked down to the paper mill, trailing our fingers in the river as we meandered along. It was an idyllic scene, an oasis of calm and beauty.

This combination of powerful water and the cool, calm river reminds me of Jesus’ words in John 7 about the living water that can flow from within each one of us, a source of life to all. Refreshing, life-giving water, quenching thirst, cooling and sustaining all who experience it.

The paper mill showed us how to harness the power from the water to create paper. In the same way, God’s Spirit, flowing through us, will also be creative. God, the Maker of heaven and earth, is always doing new things and often chooses to work through His people.

In the darkness of winter, it’s good to remember those halcyon days of summer and reflect on the power of water to cleanse, refresh, re-energise and renew.