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Jack Burton

Jack Burton: bus driver, ex-Sherriff of Norwich and Methodist minister
Jack, as he appeared in
Connect Magazine (July 1993)

The mysterious events which befell Christ's disciples on the day of Pentecost, soon after he had finally disappeared, was the turning point in their experience and commitment.

It was the day everything fell into place and their religion sprang suddenly to life as never before. That is the elementary meaning of what we understand when, in theological language, we say, 'They received the Holy Spirit'. That is why Whitsun is an important celebration, a high festival.

The vastness of Creation can make God seem remote. A night sky inspires, but also daunts. When light-years are measured in millions, our Omnipresent God can become incomprehensibly large and alarmingly distant. With Jesus it is not dissimilar. Two thousand years have made him a romantic and inspiring figure but far removed from the age of the microchip and telecommunication. The doctrine of the Holy Spirit, however, acknowledged edges God as our contemporary, the source of all creativity and inspiration. It encourages us to recognise the 'religious' dimensions which surround; the mystery of human existence, in every age and with which each generation must wrestle afresh. In particular, I associate three words with a modern doctrine of the Holy Spirit - words holding as much meaning in the bus garage as in the village chapel. The words are vision, will and power.

In his vivid, stimulating teaching and in actions which spoke even louder than words, Christ painted two compelling pictures. The first was a picture of the world as it could be if the meek and the peacemakers were heeded, if little children were given priority and if we loved one another. The second was a vision of what each of us could become personally if integrity, humility and compassion were our hallmarks. When we catch the beauty of these visions the Holy Spirit is at work. But it is possible to see and understand, yet to hold back, reluctant and hesitant - possible to recognise the truth yet shrink from its implications, turning away like the Rich Young Ruler. When, therefore, we decide we want both visions to become reality and long sincerely for justice, truth and love to reign throughout the world and in us - the Holy Spirit is at work.

But wanting and hoping are not the same as achieving and becoming - the fate of our New Year resolutions proves that! We are weak, selfish and sinful. To pursue the visions and make them come true, we need help: power from fresh, limitless reserves of energy. It is available - inscripture, sacrament, silence, worship, music, poetry, prayer, light, ancient sites, communion with nature, concerts, conversation and friendship. It is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

I have a soft spot for the old drawing-room songs and ballads! Few people today will recall 'I'll sing thee songs of Araby', but its chorus is curiously relevant to our calling as preachers and to our understanding of the Holy Spirit:

'And dreams of delight shall on thee break, And rainbow visions rise,
And all my soul shall strive to wake Sweet wonder in thine eyes.'

What marvellous phrases! Our dreams should include dreams of the Creator, dreams of heaven, dreams of Calvary. 'Rainbow visions' sounds so modern it could be symbolising human rights and environmental issues, without which there is no true religion and in the pursuit of which we have to trust and obey and rely moment-by-moment. And "sweet wonder"? I believe the rekindling of wonder has become one of our supreme tasks in this blase', arrogant and materialistic age. Breathing energy and life into our dreams and visions is the work of the Holy Spirit. As preachers, we need the inspiration of the Spirit to point others to the Spirit's inspiration.

That's the Spirit
I look after an old church at which I first preached thirty years ago. It was then the parish church and those were heady days for some of us - anxious days for others. The Anglican-Methodist Conversations were high on the agenda and, in a venture typical of the hopeful spirit of the times, I was permitted both to pursue a 'worker-priest' pattern of ministry as a bus driver and be attached to an Anglican parish.

In that first sermon - on Christian discipleship - I observed that, after submitting ourselves faithfully to the disciplines of the means of grace, discipleship involved relying upon the moment-by-moment guidance of the Holy Spirit. I wasn't conscious of being provocative. Certainly I would express myself in precisely the same terms today. Read the Bible, say your prayers, go to church, receive bread and wine then go out, trusting and obedient and expect the Living God to be with you: to prompt, guide, lead, open door, protect, encourage, enable. Our Faith is locked for ever in the past if there is no Contemporary Spirit at hand to interpret, set free and inspire. Neither was I conscious of making a sectarian point - of stressing a particular Methodist emphasis. We do, of course, underline the crucial importance of the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer, where faith makes possible all kinds of exciting new developments. But it never occurred to me that I was doing other than proclaiming the faith of the Church.

One member of the congregation, however, seized mockingly on that reference,to 'the moment-by-moment guidance of the Holy Spirit'. A staunch Anglo-Catholic, his path to faith and his understanding of the gospel differed significantly from my own. This was a man widely-read, and possessed of a wonderful mind. Thoroughly at home in the realms of theology, he could leave many a clergyman standing. I seemed marked out as his next victim! The Holy Spirit, active in baptism, or in the history of the church - with these he had no problem. But the Holy Spirit as a determining influence in the everyday life of the modern disciple was a notion he viewed with discomfort and distaste.

He became - until his death twenty years later - one of my dearest friends and closest confidants. But he never forgot that sermon and how it nearly got us off on a wrong footing. Throughout our friendship he referred to it occasionally, always with a wide grin; and invariably I would take the bait and try, earnestly and for the umpteenth time, to correct his misunderstanding. Even as I write I am conscious of him smiling in heaven at this remembrance of the occasion - despite the fact that by now he must know beyond doubt that I was right!

But Frank wasn't alone in having what I viewed as a circumscribed concept of the Holy Spirit. Few of our articles of faith have created such mystification and misunderstanding.

Christmas means something to everyone, even if it is being strangled to death by the highpressured commercialism which begins in mid-summer. The focus of the Christmas myth is a new-born infant and this symbol leaves few people unmoved, even if religion of itself doesn't much interest them. Easter, too - though to a lesser degree - still strikes a few chords beyond the walls of the church, not least because the notions of light overcoming darkness and life triumphing over death harmonise neatly, in this northern hemisphere, with the season of lengthening days and opening buds. Those who do not attend church regularly do not understand what Whitsun is about; which is a pity, for in some ways it is the most exciting of the three. The first two concern history; the third combines history and current affairs.

Dove
Bus