We'll kiss away each hour of hiraeth

Fewer showers they said. Drier they said ("They" being the BBC weather forecasters). So why was I rained on the whole time of the latest stage of the Welsh coastal walk?

The last stage of the walk ended in Machynlleth. As I have already (20 years ago!) walked from there to the coast and down to Llanrhystud, there is an argument to say that I could skip the next 30 miles and pick up on the way to Aberaeron, New Quay and Cardigan. Perhaps. And I have missed a good bit out this time, but, were I to head straight back to Llanrhystud, I would miss out the second-longest promenade in Wales (I have already come across the longest in Llandudno), and not only that, but I would totally miss out on the town that was my home for 4 years 1988-1992. I couldn't miss that out, so, after a week of non-stop rain, I got off the train in Borth to be greeted by wet and miserable weather.

Not to worry, I have good waterproofs, so on they went, and off I went, along the sea-front in Borth and along the cliffs to Clarach Bay and beyond.

Perhaps surprisingly, I was not the only fool out for a walk today. The first people I met asked me if they could get a bus back to Borth when they got to Clarach. I replied that the last time I lived here you could, but that was 20 years ago and I couldn't guarantee what it was like today. There were others out as well who said a quick hello in passing, but the cliff path wasn't at its busiest!

As I was walking up and along the cliffs, memories started coming back to me. This is where I would occasionally walk with some friends from college - it wasn't a regular occurrence, but it happened every now and again. Indeed, at one point there was talk of a college walking club. Our first, and as far as I know only outing was from Clarach to Borth. There was talk that we might do several Welsh walks. There was talk that we might do Snowdon. We did Clarach to Borth! Yet as I retraced these steps these years later, I could again see all my college friends in my minds eye, and couldn't help but wonder where they are now. I know where some of them are, but others do seem to have disappeared off the radar.

The walk to Clarach was pretty speedy - with the weather I didn't stop to take in the view which is what I would have done on nicer days, but on the approach to Clarach, I did have to stop and gasp when I saw beyond the bay to a headland containing a war memorial and castle. I knew that I was getting close to home now.

The original plan had been to stop in Clarach and have a cuppa and / or sandwich, but there was no-where open, and I didn't feel like sitting at a picnic table in the rain, so I pressed on, grateful that I only had one more hill and just over one more mile to go today.

This last hill is Constitution Hill, or "Consty" as it's known locally. If I have memories of the walk to Borth, I have many more of this hill. I'd trudge up it in all weathers just to get away from college, perhaps just to clear the head after finishing an essay, perhaps to have a walk and chat with friends away from walls which have ears, perhaps just to enjoy it as a walk and admire the view in its own right. Today, I noticed that there was a new path leading up from Clarach. I'm quite pleased about that actually - the last one was deteriorating, and whilst I think that health and safety has gone mad in some instances, to see a new, tarmacked path slightly further away from the cliff edge did make sense to me, especially in the rain, given that on a couple of occasions in the walk I had been losing my footing slightly - not seriously, I wasn't in danger of making any nasty tumbles, but all the same, better safe than sorry.

As I neared the top of the hill, my heart was pounding, not only because of the effort of walking up the hill, but because I was now on such familiar ground. When I saw the tower on the top of the next hill, Pen-dinas, I knew that it was now only a couple more steps, and.....   Yes ! I was looking down at the town, the town which had been my home for 4 years. After an absence of just over 10 years (almost unforgivable!) to see it from the top of Consty was definitely the best way ever. As I stood there, with the rain beating down on me, a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, at that moment I realised I knew the true meaning of the Welsh word "Hiraeth". It's not a word you translate (though some have tried to do so with "homesickness" or "longing") which are on the right sort of lines but don't quite get there. It's an emotion, an emotion I was now feeling. For I was home. My walk along the Welsh coast had brought me to Aberystwyth.

I could have run down the other side of Consty. I didn't, but there was a sure spring in my step. At the bottom, the first thing I had to do was kick the bar - an Aberystwyth custom, usually after a walk along the prom, but for me today it was at the start of the walk along the prom, but what's that between friends! As I kicked it, I yelled out "Yes" rejoicing at being home again after far too long. A women looked at me as if I was mad - she was probably right, but I didn't care a bit!

I'll not share my memories of Aberystwyth c1990 and compare and contrast them with what I saw today in this entry of the blog - though I do think there's another entry there. Suffice to say, each hour of hiraeth was well and truly kissed away, and although I only met one person I knew, and although the time for the train home came round all too soon, it was good to be back. I promise myself that it will not be another 10 years before I return.

I am not a pushover

I'm just back from Spring Harvest. I usually like to get away for a few days after Easter, I call it "The week for clapped-out clergy" Usually I go away to some large Christian gathering, it was "Easter People" for many years, and when that ceased, I transferred my allegiance to "Spring Harvest"

In many ways I come away quite enthused, with ideas to bring back to circuit, and plans to work on in the future. This year was no exception. The create zone was fantastic. Even though I am no artist by any stretch of the imagination, I got a lot out of making things (garlands, sketch maps of my locality etc) and not only the making, but the thoughts and prayers behind it, eg in your locality are there any "no-go" areas? Mark them on the map and pray for these places. It was very meaningful.

Some of the seminars in the afternoons were also useful for training and ideas. One, "The church after Google" was very informative about church life, and in particular church advertising in a digital media age.

But where I have more of a problem is with the worship held every evening in the Big Top. Usually I've looked for an alternative celebration, but as there weren't that many on offer this year (I did go to one called Fusion aimed at 18-30s, and whilst I was welcomed, being the other side of 40, I felt old enough to be their dad - probably because I am !)

I don't know of it's an age thing or what, but this next comment is going to make me sound like a grumpy old man - and it's something I never thought I'd hear myself say!

Can we please have some music we know ??

Now I know that is a not infrequent comment after I have led a service, but at least when I introduce new hymns, it is only one or two out of a total of 5. In the big top worship there's barely a hymn / worship song I'm even halfway familiar with. Then they get sung over and over again, which I suppose does mean that if you are listening and trying to join in then there's half a chance you might get familiar with the music by the time it's finished - but I'm sorry, quarter of an hour or so of 2 or 3 like that is just too much for me. I usually end up seated by the time they're finished, and I'm not the only one. Indeed, I discovered that some people watch from the chalets - something I've known about all along. This may be for various reasons, perhaps babysitting or simply having the chance to have a night in as a family. Or perhaps it's also that others find the big top too big and too loud.

Then there's the preaching. Now, all the talks / sermons / addresses that I've heard have contained some good stuff. But in many cases it's been spoiled by shouting. The first night I was in the big top was one such occasion. I was getting quite into what the preacher had to say, I'm sure there were many who could relate to her, but then she started shouting, and although she'd have continued to have my attention meaning that I'd pay attention to the good points she was making had she been a bit quieter, shouting at the top of her voice wrecked it for me, and, I later learnt, for at least one other. We can hear you, there are microphones, there's no need to shout.

But perhaps where I have the most problems is with the response. Now I accept that there is a response to worship - it means that we have to do something to say "Here I am, Lord" and there is a place for that. But please don't become manipulative about it.

My second night in the Big Top, there was a call to come forward. Some did to become Christians and make a commitment for the first time. That was fantastic to see and very encouraging. Then there was a call for those to come forward if they wanted prayer for another touch from the Holy Spirit. As I had been feeling pretty flat and not totally able to engage with the worship for the reasons mentioned above, perhaps against my better judgement, I went forward at that stage.

I'm not against receiving prayer but I was concerned when the speaker placed his hand on the top of my chest almost as an attempt to push me over.

I am not opposed to God knocking people flat if that is how He chooses to move in a person's life, but I do object to someone trying to give a gentle push to give the impression that this is what God is doing.

Some months ago now, Derren Brown, an atheist did the church an enormous favour when he exposed faith healers and other preachers of this ilk and showed that what they are doing can be explained by manipulation. It was a fantastic programme, which those who are genuinely seeking to follow Christ have nothing to be alarmed about.

When I perceived happening at Spring Harvest that night was not far short of that.

By all means pray for people. By all means pray for healing. By all means, pray that they will be filled with the Spirit. But don't try to manipulate them. I am not a pushover.

Much as I like Spring Harvest and am already planning to go to Minehead week 3 next year, I do not see myself being part of the main celebration in the Big Top again.