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In mid summer we trimmed the hedge around our cricket pitch. It was my job to cart away the trimmings and burn them. Mouser Martin had been burning some rubbish in the corner of the field and I thought this would be the ideal place to burn the blackthorn, hawthorn and ash cut out of the hedge. So I made a huge pile of green wood around the smouldering embers of the dieing fire. It wouldn't take. I stuffed paper and cardboard into the embers; they flared up and for a few moments I had high but unrealised hopes that the hedge trimmings would burn too. I got down on my knees and blew and blew the embers into life. The green wood refused to ignite and all I had to show for my efforts were sooty nostril hairs. In the end I resorted to throwing jam jars full of petrol at the pile of sticks. For a time there was a great conflagration - the petrol burned as petrol will but the hedge trimmings did little more than smoke.
I was in a sad state by this time - red in the face, black around the nostrils and with smoke induced tears running down my cheeks. Tiggy, the lorry driver, appeared on the scene. He took one look at my efforts and said, "You'll never get it a light like that JR - it's got no bottom." He went to the hedge and pulled out an old piece of fencing which he proceeded to cut up using a billhook. He made a substantial wigwam of this dry wood. Tiggy used a little petrol to set the wigwam a blaze. Soon it was burning fiercely and generating much heat. Then and only then, when he had some bottom, did he begin to pile the green wood from the hedge onto the fire. It burned - how it burned! Soon the flames were shooting 8 metres up into the darkening sky. I stood back and let someone more competent than me succeed where I had failed. It is impossible to please God through our own efforts. We have to stand back and rely on Jesus to put us right with God. Eph2v8and9 For it is by grace you have been saved......it is the gift of God - not of works so that no-one can boast. I was out one afternoon supervising a P.E. lesson in a free period. It was very hot and the sixteen year-old youngsters didn't really want to do much. Nor to be honest did I. I watched a mixed football match for a time. Wriggly Revett wasn't so much playing football as chasing Gemma Good. I called him over and warned him that a spell in my room doing extra Geography was sure to cool his ardour. Then I moved on to the tennis. It really grieves me that children do not take sport seriously and play a game properly. Martin was certainly not playing tennis properly with his girl friend. He was hitting the ball as hard as he could in all directions with complete disregard for the rules. Zara was spending all her time retrieving the ball only for it to be whopped again far out of court. As I came up to the net Zara said, "Would you like a game, Mr Reed?" She was a very sweet girl and so in spite of not being dressed for the part I agreed. Now I am not very good at tennis but I was a lot better than Zara. However I was gentle with her. I hit the ball back over the net softly and within her reach so that she could return it. Gradually we built up some rallies. I encouraged her and her confidence grew. It wasn't long before she was beginning to make me run about and winning some points. At the end of the lesson as she walked away with her boy friend I heard Zara say, "I played really well with Mr Reed." I also heard her boy friend's retort, "I should hope so - he's nearly seventy!" And I thought - yes Martin, but who showed her most love. I helped her to play. Christianity is like this game of tennis. It is like being on the other side of the net from Jesus. He helps us to play. He builds confidence. The rallies get longer..... We begin to enjoy the experience of pleasing him and, with him, our Father in heaven. Mt11v28and29. 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.
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