Frustrated at another football cancellation (the opposition couldn't raise a strong enough team to take on the might of Hay Hill), I set off for a bike ride yesterday morning. Nothing too adventurous - just round the block really. But I needed to do something.

Now I reckon that cycling highlights the contours of a territory, more than any other mode of transport. Any slight change of gradient becomes evident almost immediately, as pedalling becomes either easier or harder. Englishcombe Lane is a bit of a microcosm of Bath, in that you can't go very far without going either up- or downhill. Cycling towards Rush Hill involves quite a steep climb, from the end of Southdown Road, up past the Tesco store, to the junction at the top.

By the time I reached the main road, I was breathing quite heavily. Partly due to being out of shape - but also (I realised) because I had been cycling quite fast. And so I wondered (as I prepared myself to tackle Rush Hill) why this was.

Partly it was because I wanted to do something energetic, rather than going for a gentle outing. But a couple of other things struck me too.

Back online again, having returned from a weekend away, followed by a few days 'on retreat'. I didn't go with a lengthy agenda, other than wanting to reconnect with God. And I can honestly say that (on those terms) the retreat was a success - to the extent that I came home a little early, because I felt I'd done the work I needed to do.

The location was Harnhill Centre of Christian Healing, near Cirencester; the focus was a week of ministry, intended for church leaders - a combination of 'teaching', spiritual direction and prayer ministry, with plenty of space for personal reflection. Oh, and plenty of good food too! The company was good too, just a bunch of ordinary people from a variety of backgrounds (although in terms of church tradition, most were Anglicans), just wanting to connect with God. Most had stepped out of busy ministries and some were going to back directly to leading worship and preaching on Sunday. Whereas for me, it was more about finding a focus for my sabbatical, than a desperately needed break. Nonetheless, it was a very significant few days.

In Mark 3, Jesus chose twelve disciples to accompany him, and to be sent out to proclaim the good news. Former Hay Hill minister John Farren challenges us to be disciples, and engage in this same mission, motivated by love.

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Today's title is taken from a book I referred to the other day and have just finished reading. In it, Tom Sine spells out (in quite stark terms) the major challenges facing the world and the church, and prods and provokes us to find new ways of expressing the reality of 'another world that is already here'. He does this chiefly through the telling of stories, relating how individuals and communities around the world are responding to these challenges. The stories are often provocative and inspiring - but of course the question is (and the purpose of the book is to prompt this question): what does this look like for us, where we are? How can we choose to live as God's people, citizens of a different kingdom?

One of the books I'm reading at the moment is 'Bad Science' by Guardian columnist and medical doctor Ben Goldacre. It's an expose of the many ways in which science is misused in order to promote a whole range of health products, such as vitamin pills and specialist diets. However, he also has some interesting things to say about the benefits of homeopathy, which are not due (in his view) to the effectiveness of pills, but derive from the whole social context of treatment (chatting to a beauty therapist last night - as I had my weekly treatment - she also made the point that people often go away feeling a whole lot better, simply because they've had the chance to talk and to be cared for). There is also a fascinating chapter on the placebo effect.

Goldacre challenges simplistic interpretations of data - he says at one point that a T-shirt slogan for the book would be 'it's probably a bit more complicated than that'.

Just got back from a morning bike ride. Put the bike in the back of the car, dropped Joel off at school and parked up at the canal basin at Brassknocker. Set off along the towpath to Bradford-on-Avon. Lovely morning - cold (the canal was frozen over) but still (apologies if you started your day stuck in traffic or squashed into a commuter train).

All-day breakfast in B-on-A, read some of my book ('The New Conspirators' by Tom Sine), wandered up to the Saxon church - then back along the towpath and home.

A few reflections along the way:

When you're doing a 'there and back' trip you need to take into account the fact that you've got to get back again (I know, Brassknocker to B-on-A isn't far, but you get the idea). No use rushing off in a burst of enthusiasm only to find the journey back is too much. Perhaps it's my temperament but I'm wary of things which start amidst great excitement, only to fizzle out later. Everyone feels good about doing something - but has it made any difference? Sometimes perhaps, but I reckon that most of the good stuff takes time and lasts a while.

Mark 5 describes three miracles of Jesus. How did the people of the day respond to them, and what is our response to be? Do we ask Jesus to be in our lives, or to leave us alone?

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At a conference I attended last year, a fellow church leader referred to people in his congregation being 'comfortable'. This was clearly perceived as a negative thing.

Whilst I could understand where he was coming from, I also found myself reacting against this. I pointed out that there were people I knew whose lives were very stressful and uncomfortable in many ways, people who faced very significant challenges in their daily lives. If for them church is a place where they can catch their breath, where they can find peace and stillness, and be reminded that God is with them and for them - if this is so, then I will feel we have done our job well.

From time to time, I'm asked 'so what does a Baptist minister do?' This can be embarassing, as my mind sometimes goes blank: I know I'm busy - but what do I do all day?

I've been working on a list of all the things I do, as a way of reflecting on the question of what I should be doing. It's quite a sobering exercise - do I really do all this (or at least try to)? It's also very encouraging, as I think about all the other people who are involved.

It also crystallizes an important distinction, between the tasks I have to complete and the things I am responsible for. The latter is much harder to quantify, in terms of workload. But it undoubtedly consumes a large amount of time and energy, and generates most of the stress which comes with any given role.

I reckon the main purpose of a sabbatical is to lay aside as much of that responsibility as possible, to create space for unpressured thinking, prayer, reflection, research, talking. And for getting some things done, too. This week has been quite busy in that regard - but in a good way, I think.

Jesus often talked about the "kingdom of God" in stories we call parables. Rob looks at the picture Jesus painted of this kingdom, and finds something revolutionary; growing and unpredictable; outside of our control. In this talk based on Mark 4:1-34, we are encouraged to have eyes to see it, ears to hear it, and to get involved and find our place.

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