They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. Jesus took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’ Mark 7.32ff

ANOTHER WEEK FLEW BY. The new week begins with another Sunday full of grace, full of charism, full of gifts and giftedness, full of the hope of “Jerusalem”, the city, the kingdom of peace.  Full house. Full heart. Two grandparents at 8am with the very poorly child we prayed for a month or two ago; smiley and happy … “I’ve come to say thanks” said the little fellow. And by 10 o’clock a fifteen year old girl, with no church background but now seeking baptism, is ministering already to the “old guard” around her. Others give thanks for the children’s holiday extravanganza that gladly made room for a little girl temporarily imprisoned in a plaster cast. A proud son stands beside the equally proud Dad who’s thinking of taking a pay cut so that he can find time to train for the priesthood. Last month’s newlyweds are singing their hearts out. Next Saturday’s to-be-weds are shining in the back row. Willing souls learn a new hymn tune with good grace. “Gather us in” is the prayer of the assembly. Gather us all in. And may there be enough scones for the Holiday at Home Brass Band Concert this afternoon.

Another 150 souls are arriving in the car park as the first droves are heading home. Three more young lives are welcomed into the fold by Baptism. I leave them to their photos to bolt back for a sandwich before a gathering of old soldiers, families and friends in Bramall Park. There’s a 90+ year old kilted Highlander amidst the throng. They’ve come to honour a local man, 42 years after he died. Jock Christie had been awarded the Victoria Cross “for most conspicuous bravery” in Palestine in 1917. His son told me that his father had never talked to him about it. They don’t, do they, the bravest of the brave? They don’t talk about it. They just do it. Two young riflemen of the Band and Bugles of the Rifles sounded Last Post and Reveille with a haunting clarity that brought a busy Sunday afternoon park to a standstill. And Jock’s son asked for grace to prevail amidst the “heat and toil” of Afghanistan.

Back to Church for the Elmfield Brass Band Concert at 4. Another hundred or so folk, many of them involved in this summer’s Holiday at Home. There were enough scones and the loudest applause was raised for Jack Bennett’s service as conductor for the past 57 years! He was given a medal and said that he’d enjoyed meddling for as long as he could remember! And, just before we sang – and longed for – Jerusalem, Jack called up a six year old girl in a lovely pink dress to take up his baton for a couple of songs. She was brilliant. And radiant. She told me afterwards that one of the great moments of her life was a recent meeting with Archbishop Sentamu of York (she’s on her school’s council). The second biggest moment was conducting Jack’s band. Her mum and dad and dozens of grannies and grandpas were proud and pleased as punch. We’ve been building up Jerusalem again today. The kingdom of peace. Men and women of the gospel, sometimes hard of hearing and occasionally inclined to “speech impediment” have been busy building Jerusalem. And the name of the little girl conductor was Grace!

… the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water. Isaiah 35.5ff

Thanks be to God for every one of today’s builders, and for Jock, for Jack, for Grace, and Jerusalem!