A is for ARMAGH

Armagh is a wonderful place. Known as the ecclesiastical capital of Ireland it achieves its city status because of the two magnificent cathedrals that stare at each other from the top of neighbouring hills. The fact that they both claim to be St. Patrick's offers some insight into the religious and political divisions which have undermined our little country for too long. If you had the time, a scenic walk around the city would expose you to a whole range of denominations, keen to protect their scriptural interpretations and most claiming to be a little closer to the truth than their neighbours or at least, a little less wrong. The Mall, a beautiful green haven, surrounded by trees and a recently renovated pathway, on which the locals spread the word about stumps, pads and boundaries and where little pockets of senior pupils from the neighbouring schools congregate in the summer months of the academic year, is home to several ornate buildings, which historically have nutured the faiths of thousands of the city residents. It has provided the backdrop for the arrival of distinguished visitors, Queen Elizabeth and President Clinton, amongst the guest list and is flanked at its two ends, somewhat ironically, by a jail and a courthouse which stare at each other from different viewpoints.

The city may have some distance to travel to become the culinary capital of the island but it does play host to an increasingly cosmopolitan taste with an Australian restaurant being the latest addition to the Italian, Chinese, French, Indian, American and more local cuisines already on offer.

To me, Armagh is special, the city of my alma mater and that of my wife and sons, my rugby seat of learning and subsequent exploits with the oval ball, home to the Rainbow cafe and Johnston's Bakery and the birthplace of my mother, a place, despite all its troubles, where I feel safe and at ease among many friends. The wonderful thing about it is that the passage of time has not altered its appearance nor changed it beyond recognition so that infrequent visitors can quickly reacquaint themselves with its beauty and locations. How great a reminder to us then, that Jesus is 'the same, yesterday, today and for ever' (Hebrews 13 v 8), which is a lot longer than Armagh has been around, and the God whom my forefathers worshipped centuries, decades and years ago in the cathedrals, church buildings and gospel halls around the city is exactly the same person who calls me to be more like him. See for yourself!

A is for ABBA

By the time ABBA had reached international fame through Eurovision and a string of catchy tunes, I was old enough to enjoy their music without having to admit it. All these years later, I'm still unsure whether it was actually cool to publicly like ABBA in the seventies or remain a closet fan while extolling the virtues of more acceptable music giants such as the Stones, Eagles, Floyd, Zeppelin or Springsteen. In any case, my youthful appreciation of the group tended to focus more on Anni-Frid and Agnetha than on those which time would ultimately expose as the real musical geniuses, namely Benny and Bjorn.
I never did get the opportunity to see them live, though twice since their demise, I've sat (and occasionally stood) through all their hits being performed by tribute band, Bjorn Again. This Aussie outfit made it their business to inmitate their heroes right down to the Swedish accents and for those who missed out on the great ABBA extravaganza, this was a very accurate and enjoyable alternative.
When Paul wrote to the believers in Ephesus, he told them to 'be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children.' My whole ABBA experience reminds me that any imitation requires a lot of hard work, time and attention to detail and while Bjorn Again would never be ABBA, they aspired to being as close to the real thing as possible. I guess that's what God wants me to be - an imitator of him - but it won't happen unless I devote my time to finding out more about him and then try to emulate him in all I do. Still, he has given me a great start by sending his spirit to live inside me. It's up to me whether I use his gift.
I'm sure it's not just a coincidence that the words 'Abba' and 'born again' have great significance in another spiritual dimension away from the music scene. Nor am I surprised that in the past few years, several Bjorn Again bands have sprouted up as branches from the original act. You see, imitation works! Have a good day.

A is for APPLES

I've lived in an apple orchard for the past twenty years, but now it's gone - except for one tree, just kept to remind me of past times. It still has some apples, though I doubt if you would want to buy them, but they might stay long enough on the branches to grow to a size and maturity that might be suitable for an apple pie. I started out by removing a few trees to build a house but over the years, the remaining ones just didn't bear enough fruit to make them viable as a resource worth keeping, so from time to time they became more useful as fuel for the living room fire, branch by branch, until I reached a time in my life when it seemed less hassle just to dig up the rest and turn the orchard into a field where a few cattle now munch grass noisily beyond the confines of my conifer trees. My dad never really worked much with apples on the farm, apart from filling the odd box for a relative or friend who might visit in the autumn and always rented the orchards to a neighbour who specialised in this form of horticulture, so all of my life when I walked through our trees, it was as if I was tresspassing on someone else's property. Our Bramley apples were a great cooking variety but were self sterile so always needed another apple variety to pollinate them in the spring. This variety was a Victoria. It was a strange apple - luscious red skin when it reached full ripeness in late September but often soft and rotten inside and therefore inedible. Mind you, by that stage it had already served its purpose.
I think apples have taught me a lot about life and my faith. I understand now, as I grow older, that when my usefulness diminishes in one area, God will use me in a new way to bring blessing to others. I also know that he doesn't judge me on the basis of how I look but on what I can do for him and I know, just as the Victoria tree was never planted for eating but for how other trees around could benefit through it, the goals that I have for my life may be far from what he has planned for me.
But the greatest thing about my apple orchard, now that it has gone, is the view. I didn't realise what I couldn't see, until I removed what was in my way. Sleep well!