For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.
Mark 8:35 (Message)
Remind us Father God the purpose for which you placed us in the world. That we should proclaim your Gospel and show the way to salvation.
We welcome our preacher this morning who is Mr Martin Woodall
After service tea hosts Warren and Vera
Our thanks for the flowers this morning which are given by Joan McGowan in memory of her Father-in-Law Terrance McGowan
Organist: Joan McGowan
Sunday 8th November
10.45am Rev Richard Sharples (Remembrance) at Hope Parish Church
Sun 1st ‘Inspirations’ Poetry & Song at Rhosymedre 2.30pm
Mon 2nd Every Day with Jesus Bible Study in Lounge 10.30am
Wed 4th Weekly house group at the home of Barry Smith, Riverslea, Sarn Lane 2.00pm
Fri 6th Lunch Club in the hall at noon – Price £2.50
Fri 6th Needle Craft exhibition at Overton 10.00am – 4.00pm
Sat 7th Needle Craft exhibition at Overton 10.00am – 4.00pm
Sun 8th Needle Craft exhibition at Overton 11.00am – 3.00pm
Wed 11th Remembrance at Caergwrle War Memorial 11.00am
Wed 11th Midweek Communion Regent Street 11.15am
Wed 11th House Bible Study at Avril’s .7.30pm – 9.00pm
Sat 14th Circuit Day Pilgrimage Englesea Brook
Wed 25th “Time Out” a monthly reflective worship at Hope Parish Church 7.30pm (4th Wed in the month)
Sun 29th Circuit Service at Regent Street 4.30pm – 6.30pm
Sun 6th Advent Service RC Church Llay 6.00pm
Please pray for the following:
All those who care for those in need.
We thank God for answered prayer and ask that he helps us to understand that all things do work together for good.
The lunch team are short of helpers.
Apart from providing a meal and fellowship to the local community, the Friday Lunches give a very substantial donation to our church funds.
If help does not come the lunches will cease in march 2016
leaves the year’s end
shredded to rags,
against the night’s back-drop
mere illusions of merriment.
The usual mist
to drape the Cenotaph
and a thousand village greens
stained with blood-red poppies.
Those old enough
for torn memories
stop the year,
to the autumn chill;
for those who are too young
like tattered regimental flags
in a cathedral.
Some hearts still ache —
lives pocked with craters
where love might have been —
blitzed promises and unborn hopes.
It is freedom we reap;
the price rocketed.
Concrete and glass have grafted
in distant farmlands
ploughed into battlefields
acre upon acre —
the harvest of white crosses.