- Ask For God’s richest blessing on the Welsh Bibe Translator from Cardiff
- Thanks For having a Bed to stay in last night
- I am in BANGOR tomorrow, so please pray for Divine appointments please…….and of course for PROVISION. THIS IS A BIG ISSUE.
PROCLAMATION LOCATIONS & NEEDS
- TOMORROW’S MESSAGE is ROOTED IN the book of ISAIAH
- I WILL BE IN THE CITY OFST DAVIDS PROCLAIMING AT: I DON’T KNOW CAN YOU MAYBE HOOK ME UP SOMEWHERE PLEASE! 07975 805 323
- IS ACCOMMODATION NEEDED FOR TONIGHT? YES PLEASE!
- IF YOU CAN HOOK ME UP WITH SOMEONE OR SPONSOR A BED AND BREAKFAST? THAT WOULD BE GREAT)
- THE DAY AFTER’S MESSAGE is ROOTED IN the book of JEREMIAH
- IN THE CITY OF BANGOR PROCLAIMING WHERE :I DON’T KNOW CAN YOU MAYBE HOOK ME UP SOMEWHERE PLEASE! 07975 805 323
- IS ACCOMMODATION NEEDED? YES PLEASE!
- IF YOU CAN HOOK ME UP WITH SOMEONE OR SPONSOR A BED AND BREAKFAST THEN THAT WOULD BE GREAT)
See my Full 66 City Tour List by Clicking HERE
THIS IS THE STORY OF TOUR A & IS THE CONTENTS OF MY HEAD AND HEART
I was up at 6:00am and typing away. Breakfast was at 8:00 and yes, you guessed it, a full English, after which I carried on typing packed my case and skedaddled around 10:00am.
The drive to St Davids was short and pleasant, and though the rest of the country seemed bathed in Sunshine, St Davids was gloomy, it was not raining by the grey haze was wet.
I went directly to the ancient Cathedral. Cannon Dorian was there, large in his black Cassock, his booming voice warm and welcoming. I introduced myself and went through the usual explanation. He suggested I record my message from the bellower overlooking the Cathedral. It sounded very interesting. I grabbed a cup of tea and he kindly gave me an interview.
The service went on from 11:15 to 12:30 and included honoured guests from Usutu. I loved the words, they approached God from underneath, and they were penitential and full of adoration and thankfulness.
The guy who gave the message was an older man. He was all frocked up, of gentle speech, excellent manners and perfect annunciation. He was a slightly more livelier version of old Godfrey out of Dad’s army, he pulled himself into the pulpit to speak and then to my great surprise and delight, let off a few sniper rounds and tossed a few hand grenades. He was a true gentle man, but this morning he was armed to the teeth…I have asked him to send me a copy of his sermon notes but here are a few of mine from his short message
“Jesus is not mild. Heaven preserve us from a feeble image of Jesus. No, Jesus knew when to be outspoken and when to offend, His teaching had a cutting edge and scandal……..Jesus deliberately made enemies, he deliberately went to their base in Jerusalem and spent His last days courting controversy, riding like a king into Jerusalem, attacking the priests defiling money making, no, this was no gentle Jesus meekly and mild, this Jesus could be a combative figure, for He could not afford to mince his words, like the Old testament prophets He had to get his message across in Aramaic encouraged direct speech, and so Jesus would certainly call a spade a spade telling it is as it is without any economy of the truth, for the time was too critical, yes, the Kingdom of God was upon them and they had to choose which side they were on! The church must speak out the same today and not be afraid to ruffle feathers……the churches leaders could do more to provide Christian insights to guide us out of economic mess, instead they are paralysed by infighting…….are we afraid of choosing Christ’s image as the one true image of God because that might offend the Muslims or get us into trouble with the law?….We use managerial Jargon, referring to clergy as human resources….maybe is God is slimming us down and making us poorer as a church, moving us to simplicity, the simplicity of a church living the Gospel and applying its lesson to real life…….the times are too urgent to be mealy mouthed, Jesus was not mild in putting across His message. NOR SHOULD WE BE.” And then he paused a few moments, put the grenade pins in his cassock pocket, picked up the brass casings of the sniper rounds and descended gently from the pulpit. I was smiling like a Cheshire cat again.
Eileen has been working at the Cathedral as a volunteer for some time. She is a reflexologist with an interesting life story who offered to massage my feet the next time we meet. A fascinating lady who loved the Song of Solomon and would gladly ascend the hill to the Bell Tower and record the message for me. She even gave me an interview.
It was time to wander around St Davids, the smallest city in the UK and see if there were any chapels. I found three large Non Conformist chapels, each trying to dominate the Skyline. St Davids seemed to have some gift shops, one closed on a Sunday market shop, a closed green grocer which sold “High Quality local Fruit and Veg AND MANY MORE INTERESTING THINGS!” (Was I in the Welsh Version of Craggy Island?”) A couple of pubs and three banks in the high street. Three large, exceptionally lovely banks? Why? One of locals told me that “This place is like a drug, you can’t leave it alone. If you are born here then you will always come back even if you leave. It’s a close community; everyone knows when you sneeze here. Winter is coming and this pub closes down in a week, the tourists will leave, and the wind will come. It will be very quiet. Just lovely. ”
I was in the pub that was going to close for winter in just a week’s time. It advertised ‘FREE WI FI’ but it did not work. ½ pint of dragon ale later, I was on my way to take some more pictures and do some more interviews.
‘The Tabernacle’ was a large and imposing building on the high street. It was Welsh Presbyterian, having its roots in the Welsh Calvinistic Methodist revival. The sign was in Welsh but I could see that today was ‘Bible Sunday; and there was a bilingual service at 2:30pm. I decided I would hang around for that. I could not understand what ‘Caerefarchelle’ meant. I found a small café called ‘The Bench,’ got some coffee and briefly connected to their Wi Fi.
Come 14:30, I was the only person outside the Tabernacle. I waited until 14:40 into I reread the sign where right at the bottom it, in very small letters it said, ‘No Service in Tabernacle’. ‘Caerefarchelle’ must mean another local village. There was of course no telephone number. There is no 02 cell phone signal mind you, so it didn’t really matter anyways. I had got a 3½ hour drive to Oswestry this afternoon anyways so I was going to get on my way. The Sat Nav wasn’t charged up now, so I sat it in the back with the volume high and it belted out instructions in the front.
I turned left so many times it wasn’t funny. I t seemed as though I must be going around in circles, and most of it seemed to be single track roads. My Sat Nav did not appear to be coping, so after twenty minutes I arrived in some village and pulled over the side of the road to check what was going on in the back. The village name was ‘Caerefarchelle’..”Just a cotton pickin’ minute!”And sure enough there was a large old chapel building with its doors open. I sneaked in and went upstairs.
It was a grade 2 listed building and each stair creaked tremendously loudly, breaking the sentences of the praying people below all babbling in tongues…or Welsh? As I broke the surface of the top of the stairs, no one was up their but everyone below was now looking at this strange man with a camera on his hand and wearing a boating Jacket. I quietly went back down stairs. There was no back door, the entrance was in the front and you walked in on everybody. As I was pondering how an Englishman would politely break into a Welsh speaking Calvinistic assembly another car drew up and out stepped Cannon Dorian in his black cassock
I raise my hands and ask “What are you doing here?”
“Oh this is a church council meeting all to do with celebrating the King James Bible”
I follow him in and we sit in the same stall. Everybody thinks I am with Dorian, who everyone is obviously very pleased to see. (He is a very nice bloke) Now Dorian still has my card in his cassock and he now has it out, quietly passing it around and introducing me. People are smiling. During the notices a man with a beard making him look like a member of the Welsh Calvinistic Taliban approaches me and tells me that I can have 5 minutes to speak on the Song of Solomon. He emphasises 5 minutes. He is a preacher, he knows that preacher time has a tendency to elongate itself.
I am the only English person there and I do not speak Welsh but the service suddenly turns Bi-Lingual. This is a great accommodation. You see, you have to realise that for these folks, Welsh is not an add on language to the primary language of English, no, Welsh is their primary language of their heart. The Preacher is a Bible translator from Cardiff and he is working on translating the Bible into a new Colloquial welsh version. “I would never dream of telling my Children that I love them in any other language but Welsh. Why? Because it is the language of my heart.” I could never look my father in the eye whilst speaking English in the house. Why? Because welsh is the language of our hearts.” Many years ago now, some English holiday homes in Wales were regularly burnt to the ground by some Welsh Nationalists. These people loved their country and their language, they had rightly retained it and loved it. Despite some of their grandparents being beaten at school if they dared to speak Welsh. Dorian and I sat underneath the only heater in the chapel and were cooking like Welsh rarebit.
I was made exceptionally welcome, the missionary had been speaking about the Hebrew root for worship being to reach out to kiss. My text would be from t SOS chapter one… “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.” One of my pastors in Calvary Evangelical Church, a Calvinistic Chapel I attended in the late 1980’s and early 90’s was situated in Brighton. It used to be a former Railway Mission. Anyways when Pastor Les died of a heart attack, his body was carried down the front of the church with Pastor John walking in front of it, Bible open reading loudly from Song of Solomon 1:2-4 “ Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth — For your love is better than wine. Because of the fragrance of your good ointments, Your name is ointment poured forth; Therefore the virgins love you. Draw me away! NKJV I explained that Les was a big man, a head teacher, a lover of American Wrestling, yet the Song of Songs was his favourite book and these his favourite verses. “All his life he had reached out to God in worship, as if trying to steal a kiss from the Most High and now, in death, he desired to be embraced by the God he had so ardently loved..this was the sing of manly maturity, a knowledge of intimacy that went way beyond the language of the physical, this is why a big man and a lover wrestling could speak in so intimate terms about his Saviour kissing him with kisses of his mouth..”
I interviewed the Welsh Bible translator after the service and also the leader of the church.
The Bible translator lived in Cardiff and we talked about some of the difficulties of his work. “You know Robert” he said “Some of the guidelines given to translators are that some of the text just cannot be translated literally because you could never then use it for public reading.” I knew that and I knew the text he was referring to. I imagine just how we have put God under our authority.
“Now listen here Lord. Your language is so bad, so offensive to our ears that it is unrepeatable. So this is what we are going to do. We shall tone it down, change it, and insert a mild and respectable euphemism in its place.”
I can see the Lord now, red faced, head bowed and turning away, kicking the dirt as he goes. “Honestly! What was He thinking. Isaiah may have been a man of unclean lips, but some of God’s language is unrepeatable.”
So the lovely old ladies brought out Elderflower juice, egg sandwiches Welsh cakes and ham rolls. It was smashing. Church teas done the old fashioned way with triangular cut bread on old China.
It was time to go and somehow the Sat Nav steered me though the mountains. The light had gone and my concentration levels were high. It was like riding a roller coaster and by the time I arrived in Oswestry it was late and I was green.
V.J. (Victoria Jane) and Jess were moving out of their flat for the next three nights so I could use it as a base to hit Bangor, Chester and Liverpool. Thank you Jesus!
We chatted for a wee while, then they left and I fell into bed. I was not feeling well at all and tomorrow, I had to go to back into Wales and up to Bangor. I was not looking forward to the journey at all.
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