TENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2016 LK 11:1-13 I have a new best friend. I say, 'new', but actually they have been a close and intimate companion for quite some time now. They are the first place I turn when I need something, and they rarely let me down. Like any best friend, sometimes they surprise me, occasionally they frustrate me, but usually they give me the warm glow that comes from knowing I have profited from their presence in my life. It's Amazon Marketplace. Maybe it's the Scottish Presbyterian in me (thanks Mum), maybe it's coming from a small island which still had rationing just nine years before I was born, maybe I've just taken that whole Christian suspicion of extravagance a bit too far, but I buy an awful lot of things either second hand or at deep discounts. I can't remember the last time I bought a new book – at least a new book that was not a fraction of its original price. So, Last month I visited my best friend, asked for their suggestions for a good book on the topic I wanted to read about, and spent several happy minutes, reading excerpts online. I made my choice, a used copy in good condition, and felt modestly pleased with my purchase.

When the book arrived I opened the cover and unwrapped that joy you get from adoring a new purchase. To my surprise there was no name scrawled inside that identified the original owner, but whoever they were, it was clear, they had handled this volume with respect, had hallowed it even, with cleanliness and neatness. I flicked through it. Each page making that satisfying sound as it quickly slid past my thumb and flopped onto its neighbor. But as I flicked my eye was caught by some writing in the margins on one page, and only one page. That made me want to read it. It was in ink. Blue ink – quite unusual for scribblings in the margin, which in my experience are usually in pencil. As befitting this neat, clean owner, the words were beautifully legible and thoughtfully penned. They bore the elegance of a female hand. The care taken and the permanence of the writing led me to think this was a message not just to herself, but to the world. The author wanted this short outpouring to be read by future readers, to be pondered, to be taken to heart, to be absorbed in the soul. And so it was with me. Her words have stayed with me, for they tell a story. And not a story with a happy ending. A story of pain, of suffering, of love lost, of yearning, of regret. "Chris Chris Chris. I miss him like crazy. Like mad. I wish it would have been different. I wish it would have been real."

Who is (read the full Sermon here: Sermon - 07-24-2016 - Give us today our daily scorpion )