Thought for the Day

Privilege to do TFTD on BBC Radio Bristol for Christmas Eve today. Here's my script:

I'm married to a visual merchandiser. My home always looks lovely at Christmas. Mostly this is to be welcoming to guests. Not this year.

Stories on today's show are about plans being changed. Food delivery not party. Adjusting down your feast. Lack of demand for buses.

Are you good with change? I've always been comfortable with routine yet try to vary it. It drives the aforementioned partner bonkers that I will do three jobs at the same time – for no reason! Emphasis, all hers.

My Mum had Christmas planned to the finest detail but afterwards always fixated on the bit that hadn't gone well. Perfectionism is certainly not genetic.

What thought am I digging out of all this? Well, this time last year we had no idea that 2020 would be spoken of in the same list as the Black Death, the Great Plague and Spanish Flu.

The day before the birth of Jesus nobody expected a story was about to be born that would change the shape of human history for the next two millennia.

Theologians disagree about whether Jesus was born in a stable, a guest room or an ordinary house. Whatever, the child grew to be so extraordinary that no-one could imagine his birth had been anything but special. Yet he required feeding, as hungry babies do. Required shelter as homeless people need. Required love. Don't we all?

So, even if you don't feel that the Christian story has anything but myth in it I urge you to allow the mystery and mess to make you more concerned about others than any awkwardness in changing your plans. Merry Christmas.

Change Management

As a student of change I must confess that one of my early thoughts when Covid 19 coronavirus began to spread was 'Well this will be interesting'. Altering long-established behavioural patterns is hard for people. You always go to the pub on a Friday night. You always visit your Mum on Mothering Sunday. You always hug and kiss people when you welcome them. And so on.

My first observation, personally, was how aware I have become at the regularity with which I touch my face. There's an itch; scratch it. There's a moment's awkwardness; wipe your mouth / stroke your chin / a million other tells. It is hard to stop. But I am, at least, more aware of how often I do it.

There is a certain wisdom in crowds. We can organise our progress through a busy concourse in opposite directions without there being many instances of collision. There is a certain stupidity as well. A failure to realise that we are a crowd whether we like it or not. On being given a day off work and an encouragement to be out in the fresh air but socially distanced, thousands of people drove to the seaside yesterday. Snowdon attendance broke records.

The first person to stand up at an all-seater stadium gets a better view. But pretty soon everyone has to stand to get the same view and no-one is enjoying their seat. So public open spaces are now being closed because too many people used them selfishly.

We are a strange species, socially. We have organised a terrifically complex social structure within which people have vast freedoms. It is assumed that most will use their skills for the greater good of the whole, although the use of money makes the relationship one-step removed.

What is changing? We are using technology. There has never been a better time to be connected in a plague. We are ordering food without leaving home. There has never been a better time to be fed in a health scare. We are a society that has become used to things that previous pest-houses would have seen as unimaginable luxury. Who knew that a generation who cannot go out without an iPhone would value the company of real people so much? We don't like not meeting. It is too hard a change. How do you mass-change the psychology of society? Probably only with guns. Watch this space.

Thought for the Day

On the 30th anniversary of the demolition of Canons Marsh Warehouses (now the harbourside site of Lloyds Bank) this thought occurred to me and was delivered at BBC Radio Bristol's Breakfast show:

No-one, said Jesus, puts new wine in old wine skins. The skins will just burst. No-one, said Jesus puts a patch of new cloth on an old garment, When you wash it the patch will shrink more then the old cloth and make another, bigger tear.

He was talking about the newness of his teaching. It didn't fit well with the old way of doing things.

There's a wonderful exhibition at the M-Shed at the moment of seven decades of Bristol music. I went on Saturday. It's amazing how the very new seems so different to the sounds of the 1950s and yet decade by decade the music changes subtly, gradually.

Likewise the skyline of a city. Old harbourside wharfs are converted into museums or bars. People probably lamented the end of the Canons Marsh warehouses thirty years ago, but the Bristol Harbourside today is a vibrant place - a mixture of old and new. I love wandering around it.

And so a city develops with the old and new side by side. Old trades in old buildings, new trades in old buildings and both old and new trades also in sweepingly modern buildings. The old trade of banking now stands in a new building where Canons Marsh warehouses stood. The waterfront next to it also provides an arena venue for outdoor gigs in the summer. And a haven for skateboarders.

Cities are busy places, bustling and on the move. They are never one thing for very long. Always changing.

The old, old teachings of Jesus and his wonderful illustrations still make their way in the modern market. He amazed crowds then with a timeless message of love for the individual whether they find themselves in old or new buildings. Still does.

Thought for the Day

We interrupt the daily cycle of Advent TFTDs to bring you this one as delivered at BBC Radio Bristol an hour ago:

One of the most common themes linking daily stories on BBC Radio Bristol is change.

Things people want to be different. Change as improvement.

Learn about sepsis or online grooming so bad things don't happen again.

Things people want to keep the same. Change as the enemy.

Don't let the dry dock be turned into housing.

We are all guilty of becoming more interested in issues when they affect us. A wise vicar friend of mine once told me that Christians should not be in the business of shouting for their own rights, but speaking out for the rights of others.

In Advent Christians prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. The story of Jesus' birth as a baby is a story of change. It marks a specific time when Christians believe the boundary between earth and heaven was crossed and God appeared on earth in the flesh.

The Christian understanding of God is not of a remote observer who watches and mocks at the mess the creation gets into, but who joins in and experiences life in all its fullness. Parties, miracles, free food and great teaching with a side order of hunger, pain, thirst, dirt, blood and death. God who understood suffering by suffering. Incarnation in anything means full involvement.

As a universal story we can all place ourselves in it. For God did this for us, whether or not we like or acknowledge it.

And it places a responsibility on those who take the story seriously to be the change we would like to see in other places. For if we have heard the story of Jesus and it hasn't left us wanting to make a difference in this world. Well I'm afraid we haven't really heard it properly.

Thought for the Day

A lot of thoughts for the day spend several paragraphs talking about the news and then say 'It's a bit like that with Jesus' or similar. Recently I've been starting with the spiritual bit immediately and then relating it to the news as we move on. Anyone got any views?

Today's, as delivered at BBC Radio Bristol this morning:

One of the responses we read in the Bible to Jesus' teaching is that it astonished people. Sometimes because he accompanied his words with miracles; on other occasions because he carried authority - an authority people hadn't seen before.

It took something pretty amazing for new teaching to take hold, but take hold it did.

You see people don't like new stuff. We don't like change. Never have. Be it bus timetables or invisible fences for cows, concerts on the downs or arenas in the town. We are suspicious of the new and can be quite quick to jump to the conclusion that it will be worse. We need to be very dissatisfied before we seek change.

The gentle liturgy of the breakfast show washes over me, daily. M5 slow. Hicks Gate roundabout busy. Temporary traffic lights on the - you fill in the gaps. I wrote this yesterday.

The new information is wrapped in the comfortable and familiar style. If Joe tells me the city is clogged up it doesn't feel so bad.

We love familiarity, and therefore even explain the new in terms of the old. Apparently, pitching the Alien film franchise, the screen-writer's stroke of genius was to describe it as 'Jaws, (beat) in space.'

What did people say about Jesus? Are you John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets come back? Are you the new Moses?

No, says Simon Peter, he's not the new anything, can't be explained in terms of the past, he is the Messiah. The promised one. Something completely different. Unfamiliar. The future.

Get used to it.

Don't agree? Your presenters will gently and reassuringly tell you how to call, tweet or text.

Change?

Four groups:

Traditionalists support change as soon as it has been repeated twice and become a tradition.

Hesitants support change when most people support the change.

Early adopters support change as soon as they see the benefit or potential.

Mavericks support change.

Where do you put yourself?

Where should a leader put themselves?

Quote Book Index 141-150

I suspect most evangelical churches removing pews did it without telling the congregation that the archbishop thought it a good idea.

141. In a period of profound transformation, exploration must precede discovery. But exploration involves risk. The church cannot be expected to learn from its mistakes unless it is bold enough to make some. So working hypotheses replace settled systems, short-term projects are substituted for permanent organisation - and it is right that our churches should be furnished with stackable chairs rather than immovable pews. (The Late Robert Runcie, former Archbishop of Canterbury, quoted by Gordon Jones in 'The Church Without Walls')

Change

Three weeks ago, in a large meeting, I made the assertion that all change arises from dissatisfaction of some sort. I gave some examples. In the specific context of wondering if we might change the way we do our small group work at church, my colleagues and I shared that we were dissatisfied with our church's outreach. We wanted to have a conversation (and we have a had a really good one with about 120 people involved) about whether or not our home groups might be the solution to this problem.

In the midst of this I wondered if anyone could think of any examples of change that did not arise from dissatisfaction and I tried to prove them wrong. This too was a fascinating discussion. Most of the examples suggested were too easy to knock down and after a while I stopped bothering, but I did feel the original assertion wasn't tight enough. Some extracts:

Maybe better to say all growth begins with change.

Of course all change begins with dissatisfaction. If we were satisfied why would we change? Why make a mountain out of a truism?

So I posed another question. I said, 'No-one has yet given me an example of change that does not arise out of dissatisfaction - but the dissatisfaction may be about the future.'

I received a number of replies concerning things such as adolescence or plants changing with the seasons. In terms of philosophical posturing they are correct. My axiom is not a catch all for the non-human world. Adolescence is, of course, not a change but a development, a distinction lost on many of my contributors. To some extent this is true of the plant world too but I was not happy yet.

Some more comments:

I fear that you're using 'dissatisfaction' in a catch-all way...my hope that 'maybe if I change this/that I'll see an improvement' might indicate dissatisfaction or it might illustrate anticipation or hope.

Lost you on this Steve, your definition of dissatisfaction and change needed.

Sales Training 101: You cannot sell to anyone who is in a satisfied state. They have no needs and so you cannot supply anything to meet them. The only people to whom you can sell are those who have a problem they need solving (70%) and those who see an opportunity they wish to grasp (30%.) I would argue that both those states show a dissatisfaction with the status quo. What's true for selling and buying is true for the rest of life.

I've never been convinced by the 'needs' based humanistic approach to human activity. I know it's popular in some areas of management/marketing, but my own research suggests that people's activity is generally far to complex to fit with one decision making mode.  ...you've created dissatisfaction as an umbrella term and can now quite satisfactorily fit any eventuality under it.

Can I ask if using your dissatisfaction motif helps you to act in ways that brings about the change you aspire to? If it does, don't worry about being wrong, instigating and supporting healthy change is surely the goal?

So let's say a few things in response to this. Firstly a big yah boo sucks to anyone who says social networking lacks depth. Over 40 contributions to this discussion and many of a very high quality. Secondly, can we recall for a moment that I only posed a couple of questions. I haven't arrived anywhere yet (I'm about to though).

Thirdly, and finally, I think I would now want to say that no-one will invest time and energy in making a change to their pattern of behaviour unless there is some element of dissatisfaction with the current pattern. This way we exclude those who have unwanted change forced upon them - it was their bosses/leaders who were dissatisfied and made them change. If we want to change together we need to agree on the dissatisfaction we are moving away from. Thus meetings and conversations.

I think this can be summarised as 'All human planned change arises out of dissatisfaction.'

Change

I was chatting over lunch the other day to a delightful couple from one of our local churches. We were talking about the particular issues related to having an old church building situated away from the heart of the population it was designed to serve. We discussed how that building was, in any event, not a good meeting space because it only had a small room off the nave which was any good for gatherings.

I pointed out the wonderful re-ordering of another local church which had removed pews and installed individual seats. The couple agreed that what had been done at Holy Trinity was remarkable.

'So why not do that at Tickenham?' I asked.

'No,' was the gut reaction, in stereo and vehemently.

I think the couple then realised that I had sneakily tricked them and backed up a bit to 'That would be a step too far.'

Why do we invest so much of our emotional energy in things that we fail to notice they no longer serve what we set out to do? Pews are uncomfortable. Pews are inflexible. Pews are Johnny-come-latelys in most church buildings. Pews are also, and this last one is, I admit, subjective, ugly.

Yet people love them, fight for them and hate the very idea of removing them. Long after Tickenham church is gone the pews and the building will probably still be there.

They are not sacred; they're seats.