My rucksack means everything to me

My rucksack means everything to me. It is my mobile office, and accompanies me everywhere. I am never without it, home or away; it contains my whole life: laptop, ipod, mobile phone, camera, Bible, teaching materials, diary, key information and so on. Think ‘handbag’, but many times more.

So how could I forget it last week when Evelyn and I made the long five hour drive down to Ashburnham in Sussex to lead a retreat? It is inexplicable. All I can say is that after greeting the retreatants, and as I began to prepare for the welcome session, a dark cloud descended upon me as the terrible realisation dawned – my beloved rucksack was still in Yorkshire. No teaching notes, no music, no computer, no Bible... and no way to get hold of it. I have forgotten socks before, even my shirts, but never ever my rucksack.

It meant a quick prayer to the Sovereign Lord, reminding him that he is supposed to be in control of these situations, and a somewhat bumbling start to the retreat. After that I was able to borrow an antiquated CD player (what a come down after advancing to the sophistication of an ipod touch and JBL sound dock!), find a Gideon’s Bible in my room, and take up an offering of assorted CDs from the assembled group. At least we had some music to sing to, even though a bit dated and without the words. And since I had remembered the notes for the participants, I had a basis for my talks and could at least give the appearance of knowing what I was going on about.

With a great deal of goodwill and understanding from the group we got underway, and it actually proved to be a very rewarding time despite the shaky start. God was still in our 80s style worship, and the teaching seemed helpful. But a nagging thought persisted in my mind. Why had I forgotten such a vital component of the retreat? Was God trying to teach me something?

Various thoughts came to mind as the week went on. Perhaps I had made an idol out of my ipod Touch (another example of an apple leading to a fall?) Maybe I was too dependent on technology and needing to rely more on the Holy Spirit? Maybe the music I had chosen wasn’t what God wanted us to use? It was really only on the last morning that I think I got the point.

The final session (we had based the retreat on the book of Nehemiah) was about dealing with anger. In the final chapter (13), Nehemiah rather loses his cool with those who had gone back on the reforms he had introduced, and starts laying hands on people and pulling out their hair. He had obviously not seen the film Anger Management (although it was released ages ago).

As well as looking at the causes of our anger, I had planned to share a little about how often the person we are most angry with is our self. I know from personal experience that I get very frustrated with myself sometimes, and berate myself for every fault and failing. I am kind to others, but harsh with myself. It is a tendency I have been more aware of recently, and realising it is not healthy. How can we be compassionate to others if we are not first compassionate to ourselves?

As I shared with the group I had a sudden realisation. Forgetting my rucksack had provided a perfect opportunity for some top-drawer self-flagellation, some fully justified beating up of myself for such folly. ‘You stupid boy’ I could have screamed at my Inner Child with scorn and disdain. ‘Why don’t you take more care!’ And yet I had not. I was panicked for a moment, but I hadn’t blamed myself, or even my wife, or the neighbours, or even Nick Clegg. And I had refused to play the blame game, realising that it was a mistake, and another reminder of my frail humanity (and getting older?).

I take it to be an indicator of a little progress in at least one part of my life. I am learning to be a more gracious and forgiving to myself, and as I accept my own imperfections and shortcomings it will perhaps make me more understanding and less critical of the mistakes and failures of others.

So the ‘forgotten rucksack’ turned out to be a visual sermon for us all (even though it wasn’t present!), and when I finally got home at the end of the week, there it was, exactly where I had left it, all packed up and waiting to go....

And no, I didn’t kick it.