Mothering, Morocco and Men!

Off to Church very early to sort out the plants. Some years ago we decided that rather than give out bunches of flowers on Mothering Sunday, we would give a pot plant to every lady present [whether or not she was a mother] So we got 100 primulas. Last week, the children decorated white paper carrier bags.

Janet had punched out lots of flowers [with the useful punch she purchased at the NEC last week] and the children stuck them on the bags, wrote a greeting and fixed on a pre-prepared label which read "These flowers come to you on Mothering Sunday with love from the children of Y4God, Kirby Muxloe Free Church"

 

 

 

 

The bags looked really good. We loaded them with plants and put them ready in the Hall for distribution.

 

 

 

 

At the beginning of the service, during the first hymn, the children brought to the front all the baby stuff that had been collected for Dave Ford's next "Africa Aid" trip to the Maternity Hospital in Morocco. People had been very generous.

 

There were literally hundreds of baby-wipes, bottles of baby lotion, cotton wool, baby clothes etc etc. Dave was really pleased.

The service was really good, then we came home for lunch.

 

 

 

 

Steph was in charge of that - she went into M&S yesterday after her train got in, and purchased the £15 feast. So we had a splendid roast chicken dinner. She declared the roast potatoes to be The Best She Had Ever Cooked. I have to agree, they were absolutely fabulous [as was the rest of the meal]

After a relaxing afternoon, we had a marvellous evening service. Bob was preaching on Romans 15, and particularly the relevance of the Gospel for men. We actually had more men than women in the congregation too - which must be a rarity in any church, I would have thought! Ian gave a good plug for our new Men's Group too.

We sung one of my favourite golden oldies, one with a poignant story. In 1858, shortly after preaching at a hugely successful mission in Philadelphia, the evangelist and abolitionist Dudley Atkins Tyng visited a barn on his farm. Stretching out to pat a mule that was working a machine shelling corn, his sleeve caught in the cogs and tore off his arm. Hours later he was discovered, slowly bleeding to death. In his last moments, he whispered to one of his assistants, George Duffield "Tell them to stand up for Jesus." Duffield went home and wrote the hymn as a tribute, which he read out as part of his next sermon, which he preached to a large congregation of men.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus! ye soldiers of the cross;
Lift high His royal banner, it must not suffer loss:
From vict’ry unto vict’ry, His army shall He lead,
Till every foe is vanquished, and Christ is Lord indeed.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus! The trumpet call obey:
Forth to the mighty conflict, in this His glorious day;
Ye that are men now serve Him against unnumbered foes;
Let courage rise with danger, and strength to strength oppose.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus! Stand in His strength alone,
The arm of flesh will fail you, ye dare not trust your own;
Put on the gospel armour, and watching unto prayer,
Where calls the voice of duty, be never wanting there.

Stand up, stand up for Jesus! the strife will not be long;
This day the noise of battle, the next the victor’s song;
To him that overcometh a crown of life shall be;
He with the King of glory shall reign eternally.

The version we were singing tonight altered verse 2, line 3 to 'Ye that are His now serve Him' but I persist in singing the original, as it was written as a challenge to the men!!

All in all a lovely Sunday, and so good to have Steph home for the weekend!