Misapprehensions

'It is Armistice Day, and, all across the land, clergy will be leading acts of remembrance at 11am', said Lucy Winkett on Thought for the Day yesterday. I and Marion looked awkwardly at each other when we met at church: we'd both heard it, and both thought the same thing: Yes, it's Armistice Day, but I thought we did all that yesterday. 

After I was finished at the Infants School, in shame, I came back to church, struck the bell at 11 and 11.02, and stood silently and solemnly while the toddler group caroused in the hall next door. At least I didn't have to go outside as our Swanvale Halt war memorial is in the Lady Chapel.

On Remembrance Sunday itself, I preached on how we live in a time of tumult and can't even be confident that our civilisation will survive the next century, but that God takes the smallest of our good acts and builds them into the Kingdom.

'I like that', smiled Sandra after the service. 'I'll be dead long before all this happens. I don't need to worry about anything, the world's going to end so there's no point!'

Which is comfort of a sort, but wasn't quite the take-home message I anticipated.