The Minister’s Message        January & February It’s time for a New Year’s confession. I have never been very good at closing things behind me.  Doors, windows, cupboards; at one time or another I have left them all open when they should  have been closed. At the age of fifty-four, I have yet to master this art, or is it a science, that  requires memory, coordination, and dexterity; to pull, to push, and sometimes even to latch.   Kitchen cupboards are particularly bad. There are so many of them. Sometimes I have to open  them all before I find what I want, and somehow the closing is never as much fun as the  opening. Openings can be intriguing and even educational as I discover again what is in this  cupboard or that closet. Closings are less interesting and, in some ways, harder.   Some years ago, I attended a minister’s refreshment day, for URC ministers that was led by  former Moderator of General Assembly, Cyril Frank. It was a delightful time during which Cyril  shared some helpful experiences, amongst which was this one. He had been for a walk during  one of the breaks, and as he walked he had gone through a gateway without closing the gate.  However, after a few steps, he reconsidered and went back to close up the opening, and, as he  did, he wondered how many gates had he left open in his life, that he should have closed. Now  here, I might have thought, was a man like me who had never mastered the said difficult art,  but he went on to say that he wasn’t speaking literally about wooden gates. He was talking  instead about having the good sense in life close the door behind you when you move from  experience to another, or from one year to another, so that you can let go of the past and fully  experience the present.   New Year’s Day represents a place of transition, like a gateway, that offers an opportunity to  take a kind of inventory of the past that we carry with us. What is there about the past that we  need to let go of and close the door upon? Of course, part of the answer to that question will  always be, “not everything!” There will always be much about the past that is precious and  required for our journey, but there may also be things that should be discarded or, if you like,  commended to God’s safe keeping. The mistakes that haunt, the guilt that cripples, the  unrealistic dreams that prevent us from facing up to the present might all deserve such a  commendation and in this regard the love of God is crucial. This love, given to us again at  Christmas, is the miraculous stuff that helps us to close certain doors and perhaps open some  new ones too. If we really believe in a God who forgives our past mistakes and strengthens us  for present realities, then perhaps we can be really alive to the ways in which we are called to  serve and love; and then I don’t suppose it will matter too much if in 2012 we leave the odd  cupboard door open in the kitchen.  In Christ, Blair