The hard work of having a blast

Today's been hard work.

This morning I was trying to master the art of lying on a surf board and paddling it in such a way as to catch a wave. As someone who's body-boarded a lot over the past twenty years or more, I thought this would be easier than it turned out to be.

For a start, instead of using your legs for propulsion - as you do when body boarding - you have to use your arms because your body is prone on the board with your legs up in the air out of the water. Then there's the problem that a little shift in your centre of gravity on the board tends to tip you off it in a somewhat embarrassing way.

There was a point when my brain was yelling at my body 'you don't have to do this; you're on holiday.' Bu it was wrong. I did have to do it because I had chosen earlier in the day that today would be the day when I started to see whether I could ever get the hang of a long board. And it's hard work. But, of course, nothing worthwhile ever comes without effort and toil.

I reckon that if I did what I did this morning for an hour every day, I'd get the hang of lying on a surf board and paddling it into position in about six months! So onward and upward...

This afternoon we were chilling at Graham's studio (art rather than music) and I was trying to finish a song that I started about 15 years ago. It's gone through many drafts but I've never been happy with it. The tune's great - a sort of early Elvis Costello-influenced durm und strang. I've always loved it but never thought I'd sing it because of the words.

Following a lunchtime chat about the process of creating in which Graham reminded me that it's 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, I set about reworking the lyric. Writing, crossing out, testing combinations of sounds and words, finding the rhythm and metre of the language, even sometimes counting syllables and seeing if, within the lyric, they actually communicated something.

It was hard work. At times it was like pulling teeth; at other times it was like being just below the crest of a hill, knowing that a great view was about to hove into view but discovering that there is still a lot more walking and climbing to do before you get there. It's like having a word circulating in your brain, coming and toying with the tip of your tongue and then running off into a dark corner and disappearing without trace.

Eventually, however, I got there. The new lyric says something very different from the old one, I think; and it says it better. Indeed as I ponder it, I wonder what it is saying - which is good because slightly elusive and elliptical is what I was searching for. I'll need to give it a few days to simmer and I'll need to try it out a time or two before I know whether it's finished.

We tend to think of holidays as a break from work. But perhaps they are about work of a different kind; the work of enjoying and expressing ourselves, good work that leaves one feeling knackered but strangely satisfied.

I'll have to try it all again tomorrow - especially the surfing - to see if I'm right.

What does the worker gain from his toil?

Yesterday my friend Janice suggested that we both blog about work. And since in a couple of weeks I'll be preaching, as part of our Ecclesiastes series on work (the heading is Ecclesiastes 3:9), I definitely warmed to the idea. So here's part one of who knows how many...

A few minutes ago I was looking at the side profile of my daughter's laptop. It's sleek, the width of the CD tray, matt black and stylish. It's sitting on the coffee table in our lounge next to my wife's laptop. I'm typing this on my netbook, sitting on the step of the French doors, occasionally looking up at what happening in the garden.

The ubiquity of portable work machines, constantly and effortlessly linked to the web (or should I say, integrated into the cloud?) is something we take for granted. We go to them without thinking to we check our email, update our facebook status, comment on our favourite blogs; we take them with us when we leave the house, not just laptops and netbooks but smart phones and games machines as well.

When I began work as a journalist - one of those professions most transformed by this technology - I used a manual typewriter and my copy was marked up by hand before being biked to a printer for typesetting. It was 1979. We were on the verge - not that we knew it - of a revolution that would touch every aspect of our lives.

When I began work as a minister, I wrote sermons by hand, I used books for research and drew overhead transparency slides using pens and templates. It was 1989. Yes, I had an Amstrad but it was not flexible or clever enough for weekly sermon prep or congregational record keeping.

When I began work this morning, I switched my laptop on at 6:15am, checked emails, what was happening on facebook and in the blogs and checked my diary (part of outlook) to clock the meetings that lay ahead of me today. I opened the documents on 2 Corinthians that I am currently working on - study notes (prepared in MS Publisher), sermon notes (in MS Word) - then went to the library (the University of Wales library, journals section, of which I am a remote user) and down-loaded a paper by a Greek Orthodox theologian from the St Vladimir's Theological Quarterly on Paul's collection for the saints. I was then ready for my breakfast meeting.

Looking at my daughter's laptop, something I see everyday (and pay very little attention to) I realise that boxes like it, now shape my life in ways I couldn't have predicted when I started work in 1979. The question is: 'is all this technology just a way of doing the same job better or has it changed the nature of our work altogether?'

Watch this space?

Back in the office...

Back at work!

After three wonderful months in Prague, France and the UK with nothing to do except meet people, read books, listen to music and generally chill and enjoy myself, I am back at work. And I'm still looking forward to getting back into it - despite the challenges that I know lie ahead.

We had a great last sabbatical weekend in Devon catching up with friends and catching some waves - both excellent. It was the first time this year we've been in the sea - hopefully not the last!

Now my desk is strewn is paper and thoughts and the beginnings of an autumn teaching series. We'll be looking at Reasons to be hopeful in the mornings and who on earth are we? in the evenings (the latter loosely based on 1 Peter).

I am keen to have a more flexible, less buttoned-down approach to the teaching programme so that we can be responsive to people's questions and comments (so, hopefully, lots of those will be forthcoming!) and also the leading of God's Spirit as we work our way through the material.

Above all things, the church needs to be hearing from God. How else can we hopeful people, confident of our identity in a world of pain and laughter, chaos and order?