My Tychicus

“Tychicus will tell you all the news about me. He is a dear brother, a faithful minister and fellow servant in the Lord. I am sending him to you for the express purpose that you may know about our circumstances and that he may encourage your hearts.” Colossians 4:7-8

I asked God for a Tychius yesterday.  I was badly in need of someone, not to tell me about Paul’s circumstances – I could read that for myself.  I need a Tychius to encourage my heart.

The day before yesterday had not been any kind of red letter day.  It had been more like a black one.  Small things had taken on gigantic proportions. I expressed the notion that I was considering writing a letter of resignation.  Later on in the day the news seeped through the work place that I was leaving.  For some, it seemed to be a cause for victory.  Others were somewhat dismayed.  I’m not leaving – not yet.  Put away the party poppers and the champagne bottles for another day.

Involved in the asking for a Tychicus was being watchful enough to recognise him when he did turn up.  It was never an “if”. Something inside my prayer life has shifted.  I know that if I ask God for anything, He will answer.  If I am praying about something, there will be an answer.  My words don’t go unheard by my Father in heaven.

My Tychicus turned up at about 10.00 am.  The phone rang.  I really need to speak to someone about getting a hearing-aid friendly phone. I have taken to removing my hearing aid to answer the phone.

“Is Billy with you?”

“No, Billy isn’t with me.  He used to be, but someone took him away.”

It appeared that Billy had been signed up to work with someone else, but the someone else he was signed up to work with was working with someone else.  They hadn’t time for Billy.  Poor Billy was left in an empty room with nothing to do.

“Billy wants to come back to you.  He likes RE.  Is that OK?”

That’s pretty much a first – someone who likes RE is a rare being. I chose not to explore why Billy likes RE. A quick glance at pupils surreptitiously sharing sweets and Roy playing with the blinds gave a clue or two.

So Billy came back – because he likes RE. He doesn’t know his middle name is now Tychius.

Not done with Tychicus he showed up again at 4.00 pm.  This time I did the phoning to check it was OK to turn up at the “For The Right Reasons” publishing office.  I had been mildly rebuked for just turning up and putting people under pressure.  It was just my presence that did it, not my words or actions.  They are publishing my poetry book “Wider Than The Corners Of This World”.

It is a very busy place.  Publishing there isn’t something “done” to you. Computers are available for you to do your own formatting, correct your own mistakes or even write the book in the first place. There are rarely more than a few familiar faces.  But I like it there!  It is full of positive energy. 

Kevin, who is the ICT genius, had not been well for a while. It was nice to see him there yesterday looking a little better. 

He placed my book – the third proof – with a cover and a blurb on the back – into my hand.  It is a third proof and not the finished version yet.  We had talked about illustrations for some of the poems and this copy had them in place.

I can remember distinctly sitting outside of a courier office sometime earlier this year, in my car, with a box of books from a printer down in Englandhsire.  The box contained the paperback version of the poetry book that a Welsh publishing company had produced.  There had been no proofs apart from a series of computer generated snapshots.  My computer didn’t really have the right software to see the pages properly.  The book fell very short of my expectations. I remember sitting in the car in the car park outside the courier off ice and crying. Disappointment seems too bland a word to describe how I felt.

The book Kevin gave me yesterday is not there yet.  He will not print anything that I am not 100% happy with, or that he is not 100% happy with.  We have reached about 90% on the happiness scale.

This time, yesterday, I sat in the car, in the car park just around the corner from Kevin and the crew and I wasn’t disappointed.  I actually wanted to grab a passer-by, thrust the copy of the book I had in my hand, my third proof, into their hands and say, “This is a great book! It’s full of really great poetry.  And I wrote it.” This is not a book for hiding in the attic.

We all need a Tychicus to turn up during our days to encourage our hearts.  We need to recognise him when he comes.  We need to thank God for the encouragement that he brings!

Digging up and dusting off my talent

I made a decision on Monday.

On Monday night, the teachers/preachers in the church met together to work out the programme for the next month or so. We are hoping to base the next series of “sermons” (I hate that word but can’t think of another one) on the church described in Acts 2. It wasn’t about encouraging the congregation to drag their friends to a church meeting, but equipping the church so that they could take Jesus with them into their friendships. The phrase that I came up with – or rather, the Holy Spirit suggested – was “Take it home.” We have to work out how to take our faith outside the church setting and into our everyday lives.

Somewhere in all the chat of the evening, a friend told us a testimony of a woman. I can’t remember the details, but it was about doing what God asked you to do, not what you thought He might like you to do. It was something to do with a missionary, who had been on the mission field and seen lots of people come to a saving faith. However, God was not impressed because what He really asked her to do was to bring up her children. To be the missionary, she had put them into a boarding school and it was really left to someone else to do the bringing up.

I was convicted! It is not a case of “What if I am not doing what God asked me to do?” The week before, during the Bible study I have with a friend, the same thing came up. The study was about the value of work, and knowing that you were doing what God had set aside for you to do, and being fulfilled in that.

How many clues does a person really need before they catch on? Evidently, if you are me, then it’s quite a few! It was Tony Howson’s book that started it. My friend pointed out something at the end of the book about the publishers of the book being on the lookout for good Christian material to publish. Knowing that I have a passion for writing, my friend suggested that I might want to take them up on the offer. If they were looking for material to publish, and I had material just sitting around waiting to become a book – hey presto!

I also have the phone number of a publisher of Christian poetry that was passed on to me at a recent writer’s workshop. I am planning to attend another of the workshops later on next month. To have someone pass on a phone number, and for the person you passed it onto not to make use of it, you have to question the seriousness, or the hunger of the writer to want to see their stuff in print.

I am convicted that I am like the man with the talent that digs a hole and buries it. I could agonise about whether my writing is good enough – so many people have said that it is (and my friend has said she will buy a copy of the book when it is published!). I could also agonise about whether there is a market for Christian poetry books – apparently not if you were to go into a Christian bookshop and ask for poetry books! It is not about agonising but about obedience. If I have been given a talent then I it is not for just playing around with. There is an intention to use it and for the gifting to bear fruit. The fruit is not about me getting lost in my own private heaven for an hour or two – but about using whatever talent I have to reach out and touch people.

I read my stuff and I get touched.

So my intention is to dig out my poems, phone up the publisher and see where it all takes me. That is my weekend plan.

“And about time too…” I hear some of you say. I am making myself accountable. Feel free to nag me if you think I am playing chicken! I seriously cannot bear for God to say to me, “I asked for a poetry book, Mel. Where is it?”