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Sunday sun shrine
A Sunday on the French Riviera and what to do? Our friendly neighbours told us that there was a morning market in Port Grimaud – just a 10-minute walk from the campsite – so we headed off to take a look.
Certainly no sign of anyone heading off to church although there had been some Twitter chat about appropriate hymns for the England team’s failure to beat America in the World Cup. How about “Draw me close to you” especially after goalkeeper Robert Green’s unfortunate Hand of Clod episode – the next line is “never let me go”.
Anyway, soccer musings aside, we walked into the millionaire’s playground to see how people spent a sunny morning here. Port Grimaud is like Venice – once you get past the security barriers. In fairness they only keep out unsavoury drivers; almost anyone can walk in, including us!!
Crossing the first bridge takes you into a square which is transformed into a market, slightly upmarket as you would expect. It was the first French market I’ve ever been to, for example, without a single Morrocan selling Bob Marley towels.
The next bridge, deeper into Port Grimaud, reveals the first glimpse of the boats and yachts to come and then another square of stalls. If you look closely you can see something of the Med’s past. One or two of the stallholders have that permanently-glazed look from the flower power days, one still had her hair held in place by a bootlace-thin strand of leather; another wrapped what looked suspiciously like a kaftan round her.
On to the harbour where some of the super yachts waited at the sort of shrine that’s reserved for the very few – the very, very rich. The kind who can afford to click a couple of fingers and send someone out to buy whatever they want whenever they feel like it. As we gawped, four Dutch girls persuaded someone else to take their photo posing alongside a yacht called Chocolat registered in London. As they studied the digital image they looked at each other, shrieked something in Dutch which had one recognisable phrase: “something from Sex and the City”.
The irony was that these extraordinary displays of super-wealth, six yachts backed up against the harbour like some defensive wall of overpaid footballers anticipating a thunderous free kick from out in the bay, were no more than 10 feet from the doors of the community’s ecumenical church.
The building that represents a man who had nothing but the clothes he stood up in opens its doors in defiant welcome to the obscenely rich and the desperately poor. In that place Jesus says to them ‘however you arrived here, and however much you carried with you, makes no difference.’
At this Sunday sun shrine, where we couldn’t even have bought the inflatable boat that sat on the top of the super yacht – see Joy’s optimistic posing next to it! – there was that wonderfully disruptive invasion of the Gospel that said: ‘I’m still here and I’m not going away.’
Reality on the menu please

The sun has reappeared after 24 hours of rain – God’s timing spot on as always because the blue skies returned just in time for Sunday lunchtime’s street party here at Le Pas Opton in the Vendee.
It’s something of a tradition now at Spring Harvest Holidays for the main entrance to be blocked off by tables and chairs and a bank of red-hot barbecues as families join in with their picnics. You see the people who have cooked pasta or made salads sitting next to those who have shot into the site’s shop and bought a pack of saucissons – and those who’ve just brought along a baguette!
But the great thing is that people who’ve never before spoken to each other sit side by side and chat like long-lost friends. As a former minister of mine used to say “well if I’m going to spend eternity with you I ought to find out something about you.”
Food was really important to Jesus, of course. He made sure the disciples caught enough fish after a fruitless night at sea because they needed to be able to feed themselves and sell some to make money; he feed 5,000 men (plus women and children) with a packed lunch; he enjoyed parties – especially with the wrong kind of people; he loved the conversations that came out of sitting at a meal with people.
And of course, on the night before he died – the night people were plotting to do away with him – he took bread and wine and turned a simple meal into a profound encounter. He took bread and broke it and declared it to be his body. He lifted up the wine and said it was his blood – a new covenant for the world for the forgiveness of sins.

As church we need to learn to a
ppreciate food for its own sake; that it’s good just to eat and be together. You don’t need an ulterior motive – ooh, perhaps if I make a really good cassoulet it may convince my next door neighbour that they ought to try Family Service on Sunday. Or perhaps they may just get to like you a bit!
Of course we want people to come to faith and discover Jesus for themselves but surely because they realise that the people who are in the church are Good News people in every way?
The ‘how much more’ God
We are beginning almost a month in France as I come towards the end of a Sabbatical – a gift from the Methodist Church.
It’s a chance to do a number of things and here all the cliches could come out: recharge the batteries; rest from the fight; find yourself; do something different. In a way they are all true and all wrong.
A sabbatical can be a glorious waste of time – and that may be just what you should do. I know of at least one friend who decided that he would spend the time reintroducing himself to his family because he spent so long away from them working that he believed, rightly, that he owed them the best gift: time.
For me, two months into the three, I’m beginning to hear something clear from God. Whether it will translate into anything usable for work I don’t know but I do know that I can sense him speaking in the place where we are now.
We’ve begun our time in France at Spring Harvest’s holiday Park Le Pas Opton. It’s our fourth visit and this time we’ve brought our little caravan to the Vendee at the beginning of a trip around six different caravan sites from the West coast to St Tropez, via St Etienne.
This morning, Christophe the site manager, was speaking at the morning worship and talked about logic, or rather the illogicality of God choosing to work with people like us to share his love in the world. He quoted Jesus (always a good idea, I find!) who, in Matthew’s Gospel, encourages people not to worry:
Matthew 7:
7“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. 9“Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!
Christophe went on to talk about the logic of asking and receiving, seeking and finding, knocking and having something open but what struck me was the ‘how much more’ God. In this conversation where we can expect the obvious to happen – so doors open when you knock – comes a Father who surpasses the ordinary and works on the ‘how much more’ level.
I’m excited to explore more of this as the final sabbatical goes on. What does it mean to follow a ‘how much more’ God. How does it change expectations? What does it mean for ministry, for church, for the way church works?
