Sermons

Last Sunday, Felix Baumgartner broke a number of world records. He jumped out of a helium balloon from 24 miles up in the sky. There is hardly any air, the sky is black, and the earth looks like a ball. Ten minutes later, he’d broken the speed of sound, and achieved the record for the world’s highest skydive and the world’s longest free-fall.

From up there, he could see the whole earth. Take it in at a glance.

Anyone who’s ever applied for a job knows all about making a CV. Curriculum Vitae. The story of my life. You set out your credentials. Why should this employer like you? Birth. Education. Work history. Other interests. Sell yourself.

What would you put on your spiritual CV? If you had two sides of A4 to list your spiritual credentials, what goes on? Imagine they’re handing out the accommodation and the jobs in glory – as you’re waiting in the queue, what would go on your papers?

This morning’s sermon is about prayer.

And the chances are that makes your heart sink.

If you’re anything like me, you already know that Christians are supposed to pray. You don’t need a Bible passage that commands us to pray. You don’t need a sermon that tells you to pray. You know that. We know that prayer is important. And yet there’s this gulf between what we know and what we do, so Bible passages and sermons on prayer just make us feel guilty.

Last week, a friend of mine who lives in central London posted some advice on his Twitter account: If you see someone in London looking confused at a map, offer to help them. It is, he suggested, not rocket science, but basic etiquette with being a host city for the Olympics.

Not rocket science. It seems so obvious. And yet it needs to be said, because it’s not a very London way to live. London is very much a city in which it’s each man and woman for himself. Sadly, such basic etiquette does need to be said.