In memory of Revd. Phillip Wren former minister of Trinity Church 1996-2004 (Methodist & United Reformed), Golders Green, London. Augusta asked for personal reflections for the Millennium. Gosh, aren’t there so many? Seeing Jacqui coming down the aisle of St Stephen’s Methodist Church in her wedding dress. She was absolutely radiant. The service in Birmingham where a much loved friend. Rev Eric Forman was one of those who laid hands on me as I was ordained into the ministry of Word and Sacrament. Being told by a midwife to put Jacqui’s left leg electrocuted my Grandfather Frost. He was rather cross about that! Sitting up the whole of Saturday night waiting for Timothy to be born. My conversion at a Gospel concert in Retford Town Hall. Yet there are two things that happened to me on my pilgrimage in Spain which sum up how I feel about the Millennium. The first happened early on the morning of Monday 11th May 1998. The following comes from my journal:- Alison (writer of our guide book) says Puents la Reina, “The town gets its name from the eleventh-century Pilgrim Bridge over the River Agra. This was built at the command of queen Urraca, daughter of Alfonso VI and with its six arches remains unchanged today.” (P 40). We left the refuge at 6.51 and crossed the Romanesque bridge at 7.00. I thought it was impressive. As you go through a stone archway on the town side of the bridge the pathway rises, for the structure is hump backed as well as arched. The result was that I could not see Brian who was patiently waiting at the other end. Its 11th century origin shows the importance of the Camino even then, and it was staggering to think of the millions of people who have walked over this bridge on their way to Santiago. I could well believe that not one of the cobbled stones that formed the road surface was original. The wind, the rain and the tramping of feet will have done their damage. One by one, section-by-section, the stones would have been replaced. I was but one of millions whose Christian faith has caused them to redefine their lives by walking to the tomb of James, brother of John and son of Zebedee. The journey forced me into silence, into contemplation and solitude. A sense of solitude has always been with me – with the result that ministry places a great strain on my spirit, as it is a spirituality. Eventually the experience forced me to do something I am not very good at; poetry. The following is not very good, but it comes from the heart. In the early hours of the morning, when the town of Puenta la Reina was not yet stirring I found myself in a place of silence and solitude, a place where life might not have any meaning. To Queen Urraca, I am that poet on a Spanish bridge, where the stones are ravaged by time, Where the clouds cast their shadow and the stars their mantle, Where life has no meaning and all is so still. Yet as I stand on your pilgrim bridge inspired by your faith My faith is moved to give you thanks for all you sought and gave. So share my joy and feel my pain as renewed by my God, I travel again in search of new meaning with James. The second event was at a time when I was very vulnerable. I developed a very bad blister on my left heel. As a diabetic, I was aware that this could turn spectacularly nasty. To a healthy person an untreated blister is a source of pain, for a diabetic it can go septic and even gangrenous. I had to take a train to the city of Leon and go to hospital casualty. I had been planning the pilgrimage for some 18 months and I was being deeply moved by my journey. I feared the doctors would send me home, my journey unfinished. They didn’t, but I had to rest for four days. On the 20th May I went into the Cathedral and was left reeling with a profound sense of the awesomeness of God and the speck of life that I am. This was written in Leon. Brian and I went into Leon Cathedral. The sheer beauty of its stain glass windows stuns people into silence. There is a notice in various languages saying, please be silent this is the house of God. It is an almost unnecessary sign. The cathedral is not large in terms of area covered, but it is lofty. The stain glass windows are nothing short of breathtaking. Many people were wandering around in silence. Some chose to sit. I was struck by a bishop’s effigy. It is well worn. The statues looking on have been renewed. It is an odd mixture of the old and the new. As I wandered the building I came upon the prayer chapel. The focal point above the altar is the body of Jesus being held by Mary, his mother. I am not usually moved by such imagery-very often the image is too porcelain for my tastes-but this was a little different. I had a flow of thought. The God we believe in s timeless and unchanging. People come and go from this earth. Long before we were born, this cathedral was here. Long after I’ve gone it will still be here. Yet even the Cathedral is but a speck in the eye of the universe. Yet over all is the God who sees us all and love each and every one of us. More than that, in the crucified Christ he demonstrated both the evil and the joy of life. Evil, because the death of Jesus was a barbaric act-yet joy because in the resurrection the evil is overcome. The sorrow of Mary holding the body of her son seemed to sum up the sorrow of all who have tasted life’s bitterness. Tears came to my eyes. Prayed by Jacqui and the boys. Margaret and Scott, for Alex and family, Felicity and family, for Brian and Mary, for mum and dad Wren, mum and dad Saunby, Nicola. Also lit a candle for them in the chapel. For myself the Millennium is a reminder of the huge amount of history that has taken place since the birth, life and death of Jesus. Against cataclysmic events, powerful people, the forces of economics, politics and kings, who am I but a speck on the flotsam of history? “As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it and it is gone; and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon those who fear him, and his righteousness to children’s children.” Psalm 103. Who am I but a peck on the flotsam of history? Yet Jesus teaches me that I belong to him and that even the least in the Kingdom of Heaven is greater than John the Baptist, the greatest man who ever lived. Luke 7v28. “Aren’t five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one sparrow is forgotten by God. Even the hairs of your head have all been counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth much more than many sparrows”. Luke 12v6. A speck? Yes, but also more than that. I am a child of God, precious to Him, and so are you. Article written in the Trinity Times Millennium Issue, 2000 by Revd. Philip Wren. Revd. Phillip Wren, a spiritual man, a family man, a prayerful man rest in eternal peace. To Jenny, Tim, Jonathan, Mrs Wren snr, and the rest of the extended family. During this difficult time may you feel God’s loving arms around you and His love in your heart always. From all the members of Trinity Church, Golders Green, London.