"Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them." John 14: 23
"I am called to enter into the inner sanctuary of my own being where God has chosen to dwell." Henri J. M. Nouwen: The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming
Perhaps we spend too long looking for God upwards and too little time looking inwards.
This isn't about naval gazing - this is about seeking God in the place where God has chosen to place 'their' image and 'their' home.
This is about seeking God in the centre of ourselves where our deepest longings and hurts are - where we find our humanity and divinity.
This is about acknowledging our preciousness and sacredness by allowing God to 'make their home with us' and to fill that part of ourselves which was made for God.
Christians are constantly trying to walk a line between acceptance and love of self, and recognition and repentance of brokenness. This sometimes makes us wary of spending too much time searching within ourselves because we feel we should be making ourselves less and God more.
But God has said that "we will come to them and make our home with them" so God is within us. If we can seek and find God there, perhaps we will also be able to recognise God in others; and if that place of our longings is filled with the only one who can satisfy, perhaps we will be more freed to be truly present to others.
Sunday, 1 June 2014
Friday, 23 May 2014
Usefulness is not the same as worth
A carpenter and his apprentice were walking together through a large forest. And when they came across a tall, huge, gnarled, old, beautiful oak tree, the carpenter asked his apprentice: "Do you know why this tree is so tall, so huge, so gnarled, so old and beautiful?" The apprentice looked at his master and said:
"No... why?"
"Well," the carpenter said, "because it is useless. If it had been useful it would have been cut long ago and made into tables and chairs, but because it is useless it could grow tall and so beautiful that you can sit in its shade and relax."
"In solitude we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness... In solitude we can grow old freely without being preoccupied with our usefulness and we can offer a service which we had not planned on."
I don't particularly want to be someone who is remembered for being good at things or for achievements.
I would like to be a person in whose shade others can sit and relax.
"No... why?"
"Well," the carpenter said, "because it is useless. If it had been useful it would have been cut long ago and made into tables and chairs, but because it is useless it could grow tall and so beautiful that you can sit in its shade and relax."
Tao story.
"In solitude we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness... In solitude we can grow old freely without being preoccupied with our usefulness and we can offer a service which we had not planned on."
Henri Nouwen (Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life)
I don't particularly want to be someone who is remembered for being good at things or for achievements.
I would like to be a person in whose shade others can sit and relax.
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Lent 47: He is risen!
He is risen!
May you know the joy of meeting the risen Lord.
May you know him in your life.
May you know him in your being.
May you know him as a real, constant and true presence.
He is so much more than I ever imagined.
I imagine that there is so much still to come.
Halleluiah!
May you know the joy of meeting the risen Lord.
May you know him in your life.
May you know him in your being.
May you know him as a real, constant and true presence.
He is so much more than I ever imagined.
I imagine that there is so much still to come.
Halleluiah!
Friday, 18 April 2014
Lent 45: They killed my Lord.
... he said, "It is finished." Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. John 19: 30
I know that Jesus had to die - that it was the only way to defeat the violence, sin and death that ruled our world - that it was the only possible outcome of such a revolutionary life - that it was the only way to avoid responding in violence - that it was the sign the world needed - that it was how a way could be made for us to truly be with God - that it was the greatest way for God to show just how deep his love is for us - that it had to be.
But I still can't bear it that they, that we, killed this man.
That the best, the truest, the most authentic human being who ever lived, had to die.
That this man who has become my closest friend, who speaks truth into my deepest being, and who holds me in my darkest moments, was beaten, mocked, despised, isolated and killed in the most violent of ways.
They killed my Lord.
I know that Jesus had to die - that it was the only way to defeat the violence, sin and death that ruled our world - that it was the only possible outcome of such a revolutionary life - that it was the only way to avoid responding in violence - that it was the sign the world needed - that it was how a way could be made for us to truly be with God - that it was the greatest way for God to show just how deep his love is for us - that it had to be.
But I still can't bear it that they, that we, killed this man.
That the best, the truest, the most authentic human being who ever lived, had to die.
That this man who has become my closest friend, who speaks truth into my deepest being, and who holds me in my darkest moments, was beaten, mocked, despised, isolated and killed in the most violent of ways.
They killed my Lord.
Thursday, 17 April 2014
Lent 44: So very human
He said to them, "Why are you sleeping? ..." Luke 22: 46
Tonight I went to a Maundy Thursday vigil where we sit in silence from the end of the service (20.30ish) until midnight. I lasted until 22.45 and then my eyelids were drooping and my mind was too fuzzy even to think, let alone pray.
Jesus needed the disciples to be with him, spiritually and mentally, while he underwent one of the most challenging times of his life. Jesus needed to know that his friends and companions were somehow with him, and they weren't able to give that to him. I get the impression that they never fully absorbed the gravity of his words about his forthcoming suffering and death. It certainly feels like they didn't really ever believe it would happen.
Then, when Jesus is arrested, one of the disciples cuts off the ear of a slave. Jesus promptly puts a stop to the violence and heals the slave. Even when he is being arrested, Jesus continues to undermine violence of any kind. The disciples still, even at this point, somehow didn't get it.
Then Peter, even after being told he would deny Jesus and insisting that this would never happen, denies three times that he had anything to do with Jesus.
The disciples were so very human, right to the end. They blundered about getting some stuff right and a lot of stuff wrong. They came from all kinds of backgrounds, had messy histories and said a lot of stupid things. But Jesus loved them and used them.
Anyone else find that rather comforting?
Tonight I went to a Maundy Thursday vigil where we sit in silence from the end of the service (20.30ish) until midnight. I lasted until 22.45 and then my eyelids were drooping and my mind was too fuzzy even to think, let alone pray.
Jesus needed the disciples to be with him, spiritually and mentally, while he underwent one of the most challenging times of his life. Jesus needed to know that his friends and companions were somehow with him, and they weren't able to give that to him. I get the impression that they never fully absorbed the gravity of his words about his forthcoming suffering and death. It certainly feels like they didn't really ever believe it would happen.
Then, when Jesus is arrested, one of the disciples cuts off the ear of a slave. Jesus promptly puts a stop to the violence and heals the slave. Even when he is being arrested, Jesus continues to undermine violence of any kind. The disciples still, even at this point, somehow didn't get it.
Then Peter, even after being told he would deny Jesus and insisting that this would never happen, denies three times that he had anything to do with Jesus.
The disciples were so very human, right to the end. They blundered about getting some stuff right and a lot of stuff wrong. They came from all kinds of backgrounds, had messy histories and said a lot of stupid things. But Jesus loved them and used them.
Anyone else find that rather comforting?
Wednesday, 16 April 2014
Lent 43: Forgive, and forgive, then forgive some more.
Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy seven times." Matthew 18: 21-22
This week's episode of Rev (season 3, episode 4) tackles a question which nobody wants to have to deal with.
What would we do if someone came to our church, moved into our neighbourhood or worked in our workplace, who had done something which we find utterly repulsive and awful, and asked to be part of our lives?
(If you haven't watched the episode yet and don't want to know what happens, don't read on - I basically summarise the plot)
In the episode a man, George, starts coming to Adam Smallbone's (the vicar) church. Adam asks for his help with the accounts and only later finds out from him that he had served time in prison for having images of child abuse on his computer. George is obviously broken, honest about what he has done, repentant and trying to start again. He explains how it all started with porn and got worse and worse until he found himself looking at pictures he swore he never would. He explains that getting arrested was the best thing that could have happened as it stopped him feeding his addiction and gave him a fresh start.
Adam decides that George should not be excluded from the church because of past crimes, however awful, and invites him to continue being part of the church as long as he signs a statement saying he will stay away from young people in the church. George says he is no risk to children but understands and agrees. Later at the church committee, one member has found out (not from Adam) who George really is and tells everyone. The committee vote that George should not be allowed to be church treasurer and are very angry at Adam for concealing George's past from them and for inviting such an awful person into their community. One member of the church, Colin, attacks George and George decides to leave the church, even though Adam says that he will always be welcome. He doesn't feel safe there any more, understandably. The episode ends soon after George walks away into the unknown.
This episode is very clear that what George did was awful, and that children should be protected from him. However, it is not afraid to address the radical nature of what forgiveness really means. The suggestion is that there should be nothing that we are unwilling to try to forgive. Adam is dealing with his own guilt over something he has done and realises that he cannot refuse this man his forgiveness and care. At one point in the episode someone claims that it is God's job to forgive, not Adam's. I do not think that that was Jesus' message, and neither does Adam.
I am impressed, moved and challenged by this story and the way in which it was handled. Whilst care of the abused should always come first, in a society which views child abuse and everything connected with it as the most heinous of crimes, we need to know how we will handle the abusers as well as the abused.
In the light of the coming days in the church calendar when we especially remember the death and resurrection of Jesus, questions around sin and forgiveness are especially apt - Jesus died for all people, to take away all sin, and rose to defeat all death. No one excluded.
How do we approach someone who seems to have fallen as far as one can go?
How would Jesus approach them?
What does the radical command to love our neighbour mean in this scenario?
I, personally, am grateful to the makers of Rev. for daring to touch on this theme, and to ask questions which are far from easy. I also have no idea how I would actually react if placed in this situation. I can only pray that God would give me grace.
If you haven't yet watched the episode, I really recommend that you do.
This week's episode of Rev (season 3, episode 4) tackles a question which nobody wants to have to deal with.
What would we do if someone came to our church, moved into our neighbourhood or worked in our workplace, who had done something which we find utterly repulsive and awful, and asked to be part of our lives?
(If you haven't watched the episode yet and don't want to know what happens, don't read on - I basically summarise the plot)
In the episode a man, George, starts coming to Adam Smallbone's (the vicar) church. Adam asks for his help with the accounts and only later finds out from him that he had served time in prison for having images of child abuse on his computer. George is obviously broken, honest about what he has done, repentant and trying to start again. He explains how it all started with porn and got worse and worse until he found himself looking at pictures he swore he never would. He explains that getting arrested was the best thing that could have happened as it stopped him feeding his addiction and gave him a fresh start.
Adam decides that George should not be excluded from the church because of past crimes, however awful, and invites him to continue being part of the church as long as he signs a statement saying he will stay away from young people in the church. George says he is no risk to children but understands and agrees. Later at the church committee, one member has found out (not from Adam) who George really is and tells everyone. The committee vote that George should not be allowed to be church treasurer and are very angry at Adam for concealing George's past from them and for inviting such an awful person into their community. One member of the church, Colin, attacks George and George decides to leave the church, even though Adam says that he will always be welcome. He doesn't feel safe there any more, understandably. The episode ends soon after George walks away into the unknown.
This episode is very clear that what George did was awful, and that children should be protected from him. However, it is not afraid to address the radical nature of what forgiveness really means. The suggestion is that there should be nothing that we are unwilling to try to forgive. Adam is dealing with his own guilt over something he has done and realises that he cannot refuse this man his forgiveness and care. At one point in the episode someone claims that it is God's job to forgive, not Adam's. I do not think that that was Jesus' message, and neither does Adam.
I am impressed, moved and challenged by this story and the way in which it was handled. Whilst care of the abused should always come first, in a society which views child abuse and everything connected with it as the most heinous of crimes, we need to know how we will handle the abusers as well as the abused.
In the light of the coming days in the church calendar when we especially remember the death and resurrection of Jesus, questions around sin and forgiveness are especially apt - Jesus died for all people, to take away all sin, and rose to defeat all death. No one excluded.
How do we approach someone who seems to have fallen as far as one can go?
How would Jesus approach them?
What does the radical command to love our neighbour mean in this scenario?
I, personally, am grateful to the makers of Rev. for daring to touch on this theme, and to ask questions which are far from easy. I also have no idea how I would actually react if placed in this situation. I can only pray that God would give me grace.
If you haven't yet watched the episode, I really recommend that you do.
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Lent 42: The way, the truth and the life
Jesus said, "I am the way and the truth and the life." John 14: 6
Do you know, I am actually starting to believe this.
I have always believed it partially or I wouldn't have stuck with my faith. I knew there was something good in it all and had experienced enough of God to be sure it was worth persevering. But I didn't really know who Jesus was - who he really is. I felt that he had said some great things, done some great things, and there was that mystery of the cross which I couldn't (and still can't) get my head around but knew was important; but I didn't know him and so wasn't too bothered by this phrase and its validity.
The more I get to know Jesus Christ, my risen Lord, the more I see that in him God is known, in him life is found abundantly, in him is truth, in him is the way to live and to be.
I can't explain this logically. I do not, in saying this, deny all good in other religions, ways of life, moral frameworks and so forth. All I know is that, as I become more deeply acquainted with this man Jesus, the more I know that this is true.
He is the way and the truth and the life, and I want him to become my way, my truth and my life.
Do you know, I am actually starting to believe this.
I have always believed it partially or I wouldn't have stuck with my faith. I knew there was something good in it all and had experienced enough of God to be sure it was worth persevering. But I didn't really know who Jesus was - who he really is. I felt that he had said some great things, done some great things, and there was that mystery of the cross which I couldn't (and still can't) get my head around but knew was important; but I didn't know him and so wasn't too bothered by this phrase and its validity.
The more I get to know Jesus Christ, my risen Lord, the more I see that in him God is known, in him life is found abundantly, in him is truth, in him is the way to live and to be.
I can't explain this logically. I do not, in saying this, deny all good in other religions, ways of life, moral frameworks and so forth. All I know is that, as I become more deeply acquainted with this man Jesus, the more I know that this is true.
He is the way and the truth and the life, and I want him to become my way, my truth and my life.
Sunday, 13 April 2014
Lent 40: The laughable lord
Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it... John 12: 14
I don't know about you, but I find this image of Jesus slightly embarrassing. Jesus, our Lord and God, on a donkey.
In finding this a little unpalatable I am missing the point as much as anyone who expected Jesus to be some kind of war-lord, leading the people of Israel in a revolution against the Romans. I am missing the point because I fail, again, to see that God uses the weakest people in society as much or more than the strong, and that it is in our weakness that we are most able to be used by God.
In theory, weakness, or acceptance of weakness, should be what we celebrate as much as anything.
But do we not all swarm to strong characters and able people, like moths to a lamp?
Do we not all feel slightly uncomfortable around those who our society deems 'failures' or most 'troublesome' and 'unloveable'?
Have we still not realised just how much Jesus subverted and subverts everything that we laud and praise and celebrate in talent and strength and power by spending his time with those who were weakest and by refusing to fight aggressive power with aggressive power even as far as death?
I still don't think I have got it.
This Jesus, who we love and name 'Lord', was strong, but strong through weakness. This 'Lord' of ours processed into Jerusalem at the climax of his ministry on a laughable animal, and refused worldly power and fame on every level.
This Jesus shows us a way of being so radical that we with our hierarchical churches and power-hungry social structures, even after 2000 years of tradition and study, have barely even begun to scratch the surface of.
There is always so much more.
I don't know about you, but I find this image of Jesus slightly embarrassing. Jesus, our Lord and God, on a donkey.
In finding this a little unpalatable I am missing the point as much as anyone who expected Jesus to be some kind of war-lord, leading the people of Israel in a revolution against the Romans. I am missing the point because I fail, again, to see that God uses the weakest people in society as much or more than the strong, and that it is in our weakness that we are most able to be used by God.
In theory, weakness, or acceptance of weakness, should be what we celebrate as much as anything.
But do we not all swarm to strong characters and able people, like moths to a lamp?
Do we not all feel slightly uncomfortable around those who our society deems 'failures' or most 'troublesome' and 'unloveable'?
Have we still not realised just how much Jesus subverted and subverts everything that we laud and praise and celebrate in talent and strength and power by spending his time with those who were weakest and by refusing to fight aggressive power with aggressive power even as far as death?
I still don't think I have got it.
This Jesus, who we love and name 'Lord', was strong, but strong through weakness. This 'Lord' of ours processed into Jerusalem at the climax of his ministry on a laughable animal, and refused worldly power and fame on every level.
This Jesus shows us a way of being so radical that we with our hierarchical churches and power-hungry social structures, even after 2000 years of tradition and study, have barely even begun to scratch the surface of.
There is always so much more.
Saturday, 12 April 2014
Lent 39: Jesus, the social revolutionary
Jesus said, "Leave her alone." John 12: 7 (Story also in Matt 26: 6-13, Mark 14: 3-9, Luke 7: 36-50)
In the story of Mary anointing Jesus' feet, which is present in all four gospels, Jesus rebukes men (in some stories, the apostles, in some, the pharisees) for criticising and crushing a woman for her actions.
In my opinion, this story is as much about oppression and equality as is it about the poor and/or preparing Jesus for his death.
A group of strong, probably powerful men, make a woman who is already at the bottom of society (the suggestion in most gospels is that she was a prostitute) feel even smaller. They see her taking Jesus' attention and making a spectacle and cannot cope with it, probably partly because she is a woman and partly because she is 'sinful'. They preach about giving to the poor and wasting money, and, as I imagine it, try to take Jesus' attention back for themselves.
This woman let go of all inhibition and showed her deepest emotion and commitment to Jesus. She did something extravagant, raw, earthy and undignified. This was everything the pharisees weren't (and, probably, the disciples too) and they couldn't stand it. She humiliated them by her very presence, and her actions made this so much worse.
Then Jesus, who they all wanted to pay them attention, drove the whole thing home by backing her rather than them. He saw the beauty in what she did and in who she was and turned everything upside-down by criticising the men for their words. She understood what was needed, Jesus told them, not them. She honoured him more with this action than they had done with all their ritual and pomp.
Wow.
In the society Jesus lived in, backing a woman's actions over mens' will have been almost unheard of. Jesus time and time again lifted up those who were crushed by society and gave them their dignity back. It is truly mind-blowing stuff.
Are we surprised that a lot of people had it in for Jesus when he did this sort of thing? He made people (mostly men) feel very uncomfortable indeed.
We have come a long way with gender equality, but there is still a long way to go, and there are many other issues of equality to be addressed. I wonder who Jesus would be lifting up in our society today. Who would Jesus be protecting from the crushing words of those who think they know better? Who would be crushing them?
In the story of Mary anointing Jesus' feet, which is present in all four gospels, Jesus rebukes men (in some stories, the apostles, in some, the pharisees) for criticising and crushing a woman for her actions.
In my opinion, this story is as much about oppression and equality as is it about the poor and/or preparing Jesus for his death.
A group of strong, probably powerful men, make a woman who is already at the bottom of society (the suggestion in most gospels is that she was a prostitute) feel even smaller. They see her taking Jesus' attention and making a spectacle and cannot cope with it, probably partly because she is a woman and partly because she is 'sinful'. They preach about giving to the poor and wasting money, and, as I imagine it, try to take Jesus' attention back for themselves.
This woman let go of all inhibition and showed her deepest emotion and commitment to Jesus. She did something extravagant, raw, earthy and undignified. This was everything the pharisees weren't (and, probably, the disciples too) and they couldn't stand it. She humiliated them by her very presence, and her actions made this so much worse.
Then Jesus, who they all wanted to pay them attention, drove the whole thing home by backing her rather than them. He saw the beauty in what she did and in who she was and turned everything upside-down by criticising the men for their words. She understood what was needed, Jesus told them, not them. She honoured him more with this action than they had done with all their ritual and pomp.
Wow.
In the society Jesus lived in, backing a woman's actions over mens' will have been almost unheard of. Jesus time and time again lifted up those who were crushed by society and gave them their dignity back. It is truly mind-blowing stuff.
Are we surprised that a lot of people had it in for Jesus when he did this sort of thing? He made people (mostly men) feel very uncomfortable indeed.
We have come a long way with gender equality, but there is still a long way to go, and there are many other issues of equality to be addressed. I wonder who Jesus would be lifting up in our society today. Who would Jesus be protecting from the crushing words of those who think they know better? Who would be crushing them?
Friday, 11 April 2014
Lent 38: Costly giving
Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. John 12: 3
The perfume Mary used to anoint Jesus was worth three hundred denarii, which amounted to something like a years' wages for a labourer.
A years' wages.
Christians know they should be giving everything they have to Jesus, and we have come to the conclusion that the most precious thing we can give is our hearts.
I think it is sometimes easy to think that, once we have tried to give our hearts to Christ, the giving stops there.
The thing is, when you have truly given your heart to someone/something, there is no end to the giving that cascades out of you as a result. If your heart truly belongs to someone, you will give all you have because that is where your heart lies.
So, as we give our hearts more and more to Christ, we will also be unable to do anything other than give more and more of our lives, resources, time and thoughts to Christ.
If we are 'only' giving our hearts, and then keeping all the rest for ourselves, assuming we have done enough, I would tentatively suggest that we have not actually given our hearts very much at all.
Mary gave Jesus her heart, and then it was a joy to her to give him something that was worth a years' wages.
Can you imagine? Giving a years' wages away.... However much you earn, that is a lot of money and a very very sacrificial amount.
I am not saying we should all go and do that, for 'giving' to God (as I understand it) doesn't mean having nothing, it means using it for God, which might indeed mean giving a hell of a lot away.
I believe that our lives show how much our hearts belong to God. It might not be obvious from the outside - that doesn't matter - but if we look at the way we choose to use our time, resources, thoughts, money and so on, we might get a picture of how much we have managed to give our hearts to God.
After all, it seems that we live what we love.
The perfume Mary used to anoint Jesus was worth three hundred denarii, which amounted to something like a years' wages for a labourer.
A years' wages.
Christians know they should be giving everything they have to Jesus, and we have come to the conclusion that the most precious thing we can give is our hearts.
I think it is sometimes easy to think that, once we have tried to give our hearts to Christ, the giving stops there.
The thing is, when you have truly given your heart to someone/something, there is no end to the giving that cascades out of you as a result. If your heart truly belongs to someone, you will give all you have because that is where your heart lies.
So, as we give our hearts more and more to Christ, we will also be unable to do anything other than give more and more of our lives, resources, time and thoughts to Christ.
If we are 'only' giving our hearts, and then keeping all the rest for ourselves, assuming we have done enough, I would tentatively suggest that we have not actually given our hearts very much at all.
Mary gave Jesus her heart, and then it was a joy to her to give him something that was worth a years' wages.
Can you imagine? Giving a years' wages away.... However much you earn, that is a lot of money and a very very sacrificial amount.
I am not saying we should all go and do that, for 'giving' to God (as I understand it) doesn't mean having nothing, it means using it for God, which might indeed mean giving a hell of a lot away.
I believe that our lives show how much our hearts belong to God. It might not be obvious from the outside - that doesn't matter - but if we look at the way we choose to use our time, resources, thoughts, money and so on, we might get a picture of how much we have managed to give our hearts to God.
After all, it seems that we live what we love.
Wednesday, 9 April 2014
Lent 36: The God who weeps
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved..... Jesus began to weep. John 11: 33, 35.
When I am deeply hurt or sad, the greatest gift someone can give me is not to try to make the pain go away (that is usually a sign that they are uncomfortable with my emotions), to give me a practical solution (they want to fix things, which may not be possible and certainly isn't the most urgent thing) or to feel sorry for me (that generally makes you feel pathetic and that you ought to stop).
No, the greatest gift someone can give me, even though it is both hard to give and hard to receive, is to be with me, to enter into my pain and to feel what I feel. To give me permission to feel what I am feeling. To give me time to get my head around what has happened. To not be afraid of the depth of emotion. To allow it to touch them in some way.
When Jesus saw what those around him were feeling, he allowed it to touch him. He validated their feelings. He stepped into their grief and saw it from the inside. Yes, he went on to take away the reason for their grief; but I believe that this moment, when he cries, is the greater gift, strange as that may sound.
We can't always make pain go away, and we can't make things come back that we have lost. We do have a God who heals, and gives, and performs miracles...
But more tangible, healing and valuable than all this:
We have a God who cries with us.
When I am deeply hurt or sad, the greatest gift someone can give me is not to try to make the pain go away (that is usually a sign that they are uncomfortable with my emotions), to give me a practical solution (they want to fix things, which may not be possible and certainly isn't the most urgent thing) or to feel sorry for me (that generally makes you feel pathetic and that you ought to stop).
No, the greatest gift someone can give me, even though it is both hard to give and hard to receive, is to be with me, to enter into my pain and to feel what I feel. To give me permission to feel what I am feeling. To give me time to get my head around what has happened. To not be afraid of the depth of emotion. To allow it to touch them in some way.
When Jesus saw what those around him were feeling, he allowed it to touch him. He validated their feelings. He stepped into their grief and saw it from the inside. Yes, he went on to take away the reason for their grief; but I believe that this moment, when he cries, is the greater gift, strange as that may sound.
We can't always make pain go away, and we can't make things come back that we have lost. We do have a God who heals, and gives, and performs miracles...
But more tangible, healing and valuable than all this:
We have a God who cries with us.
Tuesday, 8 April 2014
Lent 35: The curse of modern worship songs?
I have heard many people complain about modern worship songs - that they are not intelligently written, too repetitive, too simple.
Traditional hymns often have really beautiful and complex words which have deep meaning and which are the result of hours upon hours of prayer and work. They sometimes summarise in one line something one has been feeling or experiencing, something which modern worship songs very rarely achieve.
Here is one of my favourites:
The reason that there seems to be such a gulf between this kind of hymn and the songs of those such as Tim Hughes and Chris Tomlin, I believe, is that traditional style hymns and modern worship songs are trying to achieve something completely different.
Traditional style worship is essentially poetry. Song lyrics are often very poetic, but the depth found in the words of many hymns is akin to the words of many poets, and indeed often are the words of poets. They are worthy of in-depth reading and meditation and have very much to offer. It is, indeed, worship when we use our talents and spend time working hard on something. I personally find, however, that hymns would give me more if they were used much more meditatively - if we took the words and prayed them slowly, rather than singing them so quickly and skimming over so much meaning.
Whilst there are many well-thought-out recent songs (e.g. Stuart Townend), my experience of singing many modern worship songs is that they are, in contrast to traditional-style hymns, more of a tool to enable open, personal praise of God. They are usually used as part of a longer session of worship in which there might be times when people sing their own words, or only music is played. They are simple, and rightly so, because then the words do not get in the way of real encounter with the living God who is among us. I find myself able to sing for a while, then stop and focus on God, then sing some more... something I find I cannot do with the more wordy hymns and songs (or when one song is played and we all sit down again - my brain needs time to get into gear). These simpler songs give permission for me to use them as I will and help me to get into a state of mind where I can actually spend time with God and worship him from within myself. Repeating lines gives us time to focus in and realise the meaning of even the simplest words of praise, and to allow them to become part of ourselves. What else, after all, are Taize chants trying to achieve?
There is something amazing about many voices joining together in worship and unity, and this is an important part of praise, but if all we do is enjoy lusty tunes and poetic words, are we actually praising God?
There is nothing superior about the different ways of writing songs and doing worship, there is just something lost when we do not use the songs to their full potential, or mistakenly believe that all songs have the same purpose.
Traditional hymns often have really beautiful and complex words which have deep meaning and which are the result of hours upon hours of prayer and work. They sometimes summarise in one line something one has been feeling or experiencing, something which modern worship songs very rarely achieve.
Here is one of my favourites:
- O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be. - O Light, that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be. - O Joy, that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be. - O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
The reason that there seems to be such a gulf between this kind of hymn and the songs of those such as Tim Hughes and Chris Tomlin, I believe, is that traditional style hymns and modern worship songs are trying to achieve something completely different.
Traditional style worship is essentially poetry. Song lyrics are often very poetic, but the depth found in the words of many hymns is akin to the words of many poets, and indeed often are the words of poets. They are worthy of in-depth reading and meditation and have very much to offer. It is, indeed, worship when we use our talents and spend time working hard on something. I personally find, however, that hymns would give me more if they were used much more meditatively - if we took the words and prayed them slowly, rather than singing them so quickly and skimming over so much meaning.
Whilst there are many well-thought-out recent songs (e.g. Stuart Townend), my experience of singing many modern worship songs is that they are, in contrast to traditional-style hymns, more of a tool to enable open, personal praise of God. They are usually used as part of a longer session of worship in which there might be times when people sing their own words, or only music is played. They are simple, and rightly so, because then the words do not get in the way of real encounter with the living God who is among us. I find myself able to sing for a while, then stop and focus on God, then sing some more... something I find I cannot do with the more wordy hymns and songs (or when one song is played and we all sit down again - my brain needs time to get into gear). These simpler songs give permission for me to use them as I will and help me to get into a state of mind where I can actually spend time with God and worship him from within myself. Repeating lines gives us time to focus in and realise the meaning of even the simplest words of praise, and to allow them to become part of ourselves. What else, after all, are Taize chants trying to achieve?
There is something amazing about many voices joining together in worship and unity, and this is an important part of praise, but if all we do is enjoy lusty tunes and poetic words, are we actually praising God?
There is nothing superior about the different ways of writing songs and doing worship, there is just something lost when we do not use the songs to their full potential, or mistakenly believe that all songs have the same purpose.
Monday, 7 April 2014
Lent 34: This is life.
Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die."
They will live.
They will never die.
Does this just mean going to heaven?
I have always found the promise of heaven exciting only in the context of heaven starting now, of eternal life beginning in every moment that we choose belief in Jesus.
I cannot connect to a purely future-based heaven, which is something we often seem to think we trade a good, faithful life for.
Resurrection, for me (and really for everyone - for that is what baptism represents), is about life and relationship: is the unfolding of a fully alive, fully free human being who is in Christ, and in whom Christ is.
It is life. And this, now, is life.
Whatever happens after we die is God's prerogative. I cannot control it, and nor do I wish to. I simply wish to experience unity with God, and if that can be found in any way here and now then I shall seek after it.
They will live.
They will never die.
Does this just mean going to heaven?
I have always found the promise of heaven exciting only in the context of heaven starting now, of eternal life beginning in every moment that we choose belief in Jesus.
I cannot connect to a purely future-based heaven, which is something we often seem to think we trade a good, faithful life for.
Resurrection, for me (and really for everyone - for that is what baptism represents), is about life and relationship: is the unfolding of a fully alive, fully free human being who is in Christ, and in whom Christ is.
It is life. And this, now, is life.
Whatever happens after we die is God's prerogative. I cannot control it, and nor do I wish to. I simply wish to experience unity with God, and if that can be found in any way here and now then I shall seek after it.
Sunday, 6 April 2014
Lent 33: Laid down his life
"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep." John 10: 11.
Lays down his life.
We always interpret laying down of life as meaning 'dying', but it suddenly occurs to me that the laying down of Jesus' life has a fuller meaning than the event of his death in isolation from his life.
Jesus laid down his entire life for us, for his sheep.
Jesus was fully human, whilst being fully God, and so had all that we have as human beings. Jesus laid down his learning, his goals, his time, his priorities, his love, his interests, his desires, his family, his ambition, his dreams. He laid down everything, which finally meant his life. His sacrifice to God was everything he had and was, including (and most-importantly) his very life-force, but not excluding everything else he was.
This doesn't cheapen the crucifixion.
This makes the crucifixion the culmination of something: no stand-alone event, but a seemingly inevitable outcome of the kind of sacrificial life he chose to lead.
He was called to lead this life, but he also chose it willingly ("No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord." v. 18).
He gave his all.
I wonder if we cheapen the fact of Jesus' laying down of his life by counting it as only the crucifixion.
Lays down his life.
We always interpret laying down of life as meaning 'dying', but it suddenly occurs to me that the laying down of Jesus' life has a fuller meaning than the event of his death in isolation from his life.
Jesus laid down his entire life for us, for his sheep.
Jesus was fully human, whilst being fully God, and so had all that we have as human beings. Jesus laid down his learning, his goals, his time, his priorities, his love, his interests, his desires, his family, his ambition, his dreams. He laid down everything, which finally meant his life. His sacrifice to God was everything he had and was, including (and most-importantly) his very life-force, but not excluding everything else he was.
This doesn't cheapen the crucifixion.
This makes the crucifixion the culmination of something: no stand-alone event, but a seemingly inevitable outcome of the kind of sacrificial life he chose to lead.
He was called to lead this life, but he also chose it willingly ("No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord." v. 18).
He gave his all.
I wonder if we cheapen the fact of Jesus' laying down of his life by counting it as only the crucifixion.
Saturday, 5 April 2014
Lent 32: Fully alive
"I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." John 10: 10
What is it to be fully alive
abundantly so?
To feel it buzzing at every end
of every finger, so full
that we wonder where our boundary is.
To find that our feet are free
to stay or go, from the anger
or praise for which we dread and lust.
To touch a moment and rest
weighing its feel and drinking deep
of every dimension.
To see, to really see what is there
without fear of threat
to the paper-thin homes we build.
To know and to know and know
in our bones that we are held
so jealously and light.
Fully alive? That is the path
we tread until these things are
as welded to us as our skin.
Ruth Appleby, 2014.
What is it to be fully alive
abundantly so?
To feel it buzzing at every end
of every finger, so full
that we wonder where our boundary is.
To find that our feet are free
to stay or go, from the anger
or praise for which we dread and lust.
To touch a moment and rest
weighing its feel and drinking deep
of every dimension.
To see, to really see what is there
without fear of threat
to the paper-thin homes we build.
To know and to know and know
in our bones that we are held
so jealously and light.
Fully alive? That is the path
we tread until these things are
as welded to us as our skin.
Ruth Appleby, 2014.
Thursday, 3 April 2014
Lent 30: Degrees of presence?
When I am in the presence of God, I know I am in the presence of God.
But I am always in God's presence. God is everywhere all the time.
So how come I can speak, at one moment rather than another, of being in God's presence?
Why do we ask for God's presence to come? Why do we invite the Holy Spirit to be with us? The Holy Spirit is always with us.
Sometimes I can feel that I am in God's presence, but does that mean that God's presence is somehow stronger than at other times?
It must be so, because there are places which, when you walk into them, you instantly feel a kind of atmosphere there that is not what we normally experience - certain churches, monasteries or places of pilgrimage where there has been a lot of prayer over many years. There also seem to be places with an uncomfortable, draining, depressive feeling to them. It must be that God's presence can be stronger or less strong at different times and in different places.
But is the sense that I sometimes get of being immersed in God's presence due to God being more fully there, or to me being more fully there?
Possibly a bit of both. I don't understand it, but it isn't surprising that the times when I am distracted and impatient are the times when I feel God less. This doesn't seem to mean, however, that every time I am calm and focussed that I get an overwhelming sense of God's presence. And sometimes I am caught completely unawares by a sudden strong sense of God with me.
It seems that we cannot tame our God; but I still find that the more I seek God and the more time I give, the more I find myself able to sit in the presence of God.
But I am always in God's presence. God is everywhere all the time.
So how come I can speak, at one moment rather than another, of being in God's presence?
Why do we ask for God's presence to come? Why do we invite the Holy Spirit to be with us? The Holy Spirit is always with us.
Sometimes I can feel that I am in God's presence, but does that mean that God's presence is somehow stronger than at other times?
It must be so, because there are places which, when you walk into them, you instantly feel a kind of atmosphere there that is not what we normally experience - certain churches, monasteries or places of pilgrimage where there has been a lot of prayer over many years. There also seem to be places with an uncomfortable, draining, depressive feeling to them. It must be that God's presence can be stronger or less strong at different times and in different places.
But is the sense that I sometimes get of being immersed in God's presence due to God being more fully there, or to me being more fully there?
Possibly a bit of both. I don't understand it, but it isn't surprising that the times when I am distracted and impatient are the times when I feel God less. This doesn't seem to mean, however, that every time I am calm and focussed that I get an overwhelming sense of God's presence. And sometimes I am caught completely unawares by a sudden strong sense of God with me.
It seems that we cannot tame our God; but I still find that the more I seek God and the more time I give, the more I find myself able to sit in the presence of God.
Tuesday, 1 April 2014
Lent 28: Should we be angry more often?
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, and am not silent."
Psalm 22: 1-2
Following on from my post yesterday, I have been thinking about how comfortable the Bible is with the feelings of anger and frustration. It says clearly that should not be quick to anger, and that we need to be careful about what we do with our anger, how we express it and where we direct it; but there is no sense of shame or cover up of anger that I can find. There is certainly a lot of anger of God expressed in the Old Testament, and Jesus shows anger when he clears the temple; the psalms are full of frustration at God, and Job had his fair share of anger too.
In most examples I find, the anger or frustration of God is followed by a renewal of promise and love to God's people; and the anger or frustration of human beings is followed by a renewal of commitment and praise to God. The anger is not allowed to stay and fester, but is expressed openly and honestly and in the context of love and praise.
I think modern Christians have learnt that being 'good' and being 'holy' involves not getting angry. I certainly learned this somehow and am now not so sure that this is right.
Anger can be an expression of acknowledgement of injustice which moves us to action; it can be an outlet of the genuine passions and desires of human beings, which, if not released, can be turned on the self; and it also seems to be a valid and important part of grieving or letting something go. Yes, when it is not one of these positive things, anger can be destructive and self/other-consuming, but not half so destructive as bitterness and slow resentment.
In Matthew 5: 21-22 Jesus clearly tells us that anger against another human being is wrong and damaging. I wonder whether Jesus means the kind of slow, resentful anger that builds up when we hold onto our anger, rather than all anger and righteous anger?
I wonder whether we lose something when we refuse to get angry at all costs. Do we lose a motivating passion, an outlet for human frustration and grief, and even a part of the image of God in us?
I have no complete thoughts on this, I just feel that there is more to anger than we often recognise, and a good and right place for it in ourselves and our relationships.
Psalm 22: 1-2
Following on from my post yesterday, I have been thinking about how comfortable the Bible is with the feelings of anger and frustration. It says clearly that should not be quick to anger, and that we need to be careful about what we do with our anger, how we express it and where we direct it; but there is no sense of shame or cover up of anger that I can find. There is certainly a lot of anger of God expressed in the Old Testament, and Jesus shows anger when he clears the temple; the psalms are full of frustration at God, and Job had his fair share of anger too.
In most examples I find, the anger or frustration of God is followed by a renewal of promise and love to God's people; and the anger or frustration of human beings is followed by a renewal of commitment and praise to God. The anger is not allowed to stay and fester, but is expressed openly and honestly and in the context of love and praise.
I think modern Christians have learnt that being 'good' and being 'holy' involves not getting angry. I certainly learned this somehow and am now not so sure that this is right.
Anger can be an expression of acknowledgement of injustice which moves us to action; it can be an outlet of the genuine passions and desires of human beings, which, if not released, can be turned on the self; and it also seems to be a valid and important part of grieving or letting something go. Yes, when it is not one of these positive things, anger can be destructive and self/other-consuming, but not half so destructive as bitterness and slow resentment.
In Matthew 5: 21-22 Jesus clearly tells us that anger against another human being is wrong and damaging. I wonder whether Jesus means the kind of slow, resentful anger that builds up when we hold onto our anger, rather than all anger and righteous anger?
I wonder whether we lose something when we refuse to get angry at all costs. Do we lose a motivating passion, an outlet for human frustration and grief, and even a part of the image of God in us?
I have no complete thoughts on this, I just feel that there is more to anger than we often recognise, and a good and right place for it in ourselves and our relationships.
Monday, 31 March 2014
Lent 27: Angry at God
Today I am angry with God.
In theory, I have no right to be angry. How dare I feel anything other than gratitude and humility when I think upon the living God? Why does God owe me anything?
These things are all valid.
But still I am angry, or perhaps frustrated.
What should I do with this feeling? Should I suppress or repress it because I oughtn't to feel it? Should I deny it and pretend it doesn't exist? Should I replace it with some other feeling and hope it goes away?
No, I shall rely upon the fact that God is bigger than my anger and can cope very well with it. In fact, God can cope better with it than I, or other people, can.
I shall trust that God knows about it already anyway, knows me and why I feel it better than I do, and has more than enough grace for me despite my anger.
Perhaps God is actually relieved that I am finally admitting it.
Perhaps this is the beginning of something new....
In theory, I have no right to be angry. How dare I feel anything other than gratitude and humility when I think upon the living God? Why does God owe me anything?
These things are all valid.
But still I am angry, or perhaps frustrated.
What should I do with this feeling? Should I suppress or repress it because I oughtn't to feel it? Should I deny it and pretend it doesn't exist? Should I replace it with some other feeling and hope it goes away?
No, I shall rely upon the fact that God is bigger than my anger and can cope very well with it. In fact, God can cope better with it than I, or other people, can.
I shall trust that God knows about it already anyway, knows me and why I feel it better than I do, and has more than enough grace for me despite my anger.
Perhaps God is actually relieved that I am finally admitting it.
Perhaps this is the beginning of something new....
Sunday, 30 March 2014
Lent 26: When we don't feel like praying
I have been trying to pray for at least half an hour every day for lent.
Sometimes I don't feel like it. Maybe I'm tired, or distracted, or have things I want to sort out/think about. Maybe I don't feel receptive today. Or maybe I don't think God is really interested in my problems today. Or perhaps I have too much to pray about. Or maybe I think what I have to pray about is too big for God.
I don't feel like praying today.
I am tired, and distracted.
But I still sat myself down, lit a candle and went through the motions, even though I said about one and a half words to God, and certainly didn't stop long enough to listen to anything back.
Why? Why bother when it does nothing for me today?
Because the more I pray, and the more often I pray, the more I experience God.
Not every time, not even most times, and not in equal intensity. But if I don't pray when I don't feel like it, I will be less likely to be able to sit still and listen even when I do feel like it.
Prayer is a skill to practice, just like anything - practising sitting patiently in the presence of God and waiting on God is no mean feat.
I am using Lent to practise prayer. To see what happens when I actually sit down each day for, say, the length of a meal time, or a phone call, or something else important in my life.
I am 26 days in and it is sometimes just as hard as it was at the beginning. But I have learnt that if I stop as soon as it isn't easy, it will take months or even years before I try it again seriously.
I don't want months, or even years, of gap in my relationship with God. Of course it isn't either all or nothing, but I want to see what really happens when I give even a fraction of the time to God that I give to other people and myself.
It is, after all, a relationship - by definition not one-sided.
Sometimes I don't feel like it. Maybe I'm tired, or distracted, or have things I want to sort out/think about. Maybe I don't feel receptive today. Or maybe I don't think God is really interested in my problems today. Or perhaps I have too much to pray about. Or maybe I think what I have to pray about is too big for God.
I don't feel like praying today.
I am tired, and distracted.
But I still sat myself down, lit a candle and went through the motions, even though I said about one and a half words to God, and certainly didn't stop long enough to listen to anything back.
Why? Why bother when it does nothing for me today?
Because the more I pray, and the more often I pray, the more I experience God.
Not every time, not even most times, and not in equal intensity. But if I don't pray when I don't feel like it, I will be less likely to be able to sit still and listen even when I do feel like it.
Prayer is a skill to practice, just like anything - practising sitting patiently in the presence of God and waiting on God is no mean feat.
I am using Lent to practise prayer. To see what happens when I actually sit down each day for, say, the length of a meal time, or a phone call, or something else important in my life.
I am 26 days in and it is sometimes just as hard as it was at the beginning. But I have learnt that if I stop as soon as it isn't easy, it will take months or even years before I try it again seriously.
I don't want months, or even years, of gap in my relationship with God. Of course it isn't either all or nothing, but I want to see what really happens when I give even a fraction of the time to God that I give to other people and myself.
It is, after all, a relationship - by definition not one-sided.
Friday, 28 March 2014
Lent 24: To whom shall we go?
"You do not want to leave too, do you?" Jesus asked the Twelve.
Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."
John 6: 67-68
This exchange happens at the point when many disciples of Jesus were leaving because the things Jesus said were too difficult or challenging for them.
I often feel very challenged or unnerved by things the Jesus said. I find they don't fit exactly with my world-view or ask too much of me. Sometimes at these points it seems very tempting to give up on my faith. It feels like it would be simpler.
But then my response to those times always ends up being the same as Simon Peter's - "Lord, to whom shall I go?"
While the way I have chosen to follow is sometimes very rough and difficult to stay on, I really have never had a better offer. Even in my lowest times I cannot see what other path I should choose over this one. I have never found a way of viewing and relating to the world, people and myself which offers more hope, joy and peace than following Jesus.
I am always open to listening to and trying to understand other peoples' ways of seeing things, their religions and beliefs. I refuse to be closed-minded and to assume that there is nothing to be had in anything other than my set of beliefs. I do not see things as binary - either right or wrong, either true or false, either of God or not-of-God. But following Jesus feels like truth and is for me the deepest and most satisfying relationship I have ever found.
So, even in those times when I've forgotten for a while why I am following Christ - to whom else should I go?
"You have the words of eternal life." This is where life is to be found.
Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."
John 6: 67-68
This exchange happens at the point when many disciples of Jesus were leaving because the things Jesus said were too difficult or challenging for them.
I often feel very challenged or unnerved by things the Jesus said. I find they don't fit exactly with my world-view or ask too much of me. Sometimes at these points it seems very tempting to give up on my faith. It feels like it would be simpler.
But then my response to those times always ends up being the same as Simon Peter's - "Lord, to whom shall I go?"
While the way I have chosen to follow is sometimes very rough and difficult to stay on, I really have never had a better offer. Even in my lowest times I cannot see what other path I should choose over this one. I have never found a way of viewing and relating to the world, people and myself which offers more hope, joy and peace than following Jesus.
I am always open to listening to and trying to understand other peoples' ways of seeing things, their religions and beliefs. I refuse to be closed-minded and to assume that there is nothing to be had in anything other than my set of beliefs. I do not see things as binary - either right or wrong, either true or false, either of God or not-of-God. But following Jesus feels like truth and is for me the deepest and most satisfying relationship I have ever found.
So, even in those times when I've forgotten for a while why I am following Christ - to whom else should I go?
"You have the words of eternal life." This is where life is to be found.
Thursday, 27 March 2014
Lent 23: Pax
A poem for you - I have no mumblings in me today.
Pax
All that matters is to be at one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.
Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.
Sleeping on the hearth of the living world,
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of a master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.
D. H. Lawrence
Pax
All that matters is to be at one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.
Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.
Sleeping on the hearth of the living world,
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of a master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.
D. H. Lawrence
Wednesday, 26 March 2014
Lent 22: Bread that lasts
Jesus said, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." John 6: 35
I find this statement difficult, because of one little word - "never".
I believe Jesus that he is the true sustenance and that nothing else will do.
I believe that coming to Jesus will give lasting, eternal satisfaction and will lead to never thirsting again.
What I (and I think I am not alone here) have not experienced is the 'never being thirsty again' bit.
I feel less hungry/thirsty (i.e. I feel less empty or need other things less) than I did before I figured out even in the slightest what coming to Jesus might look like. I feel a general change in my reliance from other things to Jesus. I think I will continue to hunger after other things less and less as the years go on and as my relationship develops.
What I don't believe ever happens is that someone 'comes to Jesus' and, hey presto, they're sorted for life.
My lack of belief is not in the ability of Jesus to sustain us fully each and every day for the rest of our lives.
My lack of belief is in the ability of human beings to 'come to Jesus' with their whole being. We learn gradually to give up more and more of ourselves to Christ and, as we do, we become more fulfilled; but this seems to me to be a lifelong journey and one that will never be completed in this life.
I am not accusing Jesus of lying when he says, "come to me and you will never be hungry." This is true - if we actually come to Jesus then we will never need anything else. I am suggesting that many Christians and preachers take this at face value and pass on a harmful message that this is a one-off hit that will keep you on a high for the rest of your life. What this implies is that, if the hit didn't work and you still feel thirsty, then you either did it wrong or Jesus doesn't care enough to give you what he promised.
We shouldn't be feeling the need to 'sell' a message which sounds very easy, purely because people buy it more readily. What we will find is that this message will be bought and then left to gather dust because it doesn't deliver what it says.
We should be offering people a way of life, a path or a journey which leads us into fuller life and deeper satisfaction. We should be showing people the way, and being honest about what it means. Yes, it brings joy, peace, fulfilment, hope, healing. No, it isn't easy - either to find or to follow. We need to be true to Jesus' words when he said, "For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it." (Matthew 7:14). I don't mean to be disheartening, but we do often teach something very difficult - that the gate is wide and easy to find, but the road is hard to follow.
I don't really know what to do with this message - that the gate to life is hard to find. I want to say that things are different, because that would be nicer. What I do know is that preaching a message which offers something on a plate which is, in reality, the experience of very few (i.e. a one-off conversion experience which leads to never being hungry again) is not going to help many people in the long run. I heard an oversimplified message as a teenager and have been fighting to let go of it since, as it instils in me a sense that God is somehow not interested in me because I still struggle.
I want to offer people my experience of Jesus, and the increasing joy and sustenance it has brought me over the years, and let them decide, with God, whether that reality is something they want to be a part of. That decision might take years to make and I might never learn that they made it, but that should not be something that I need to know.
I find this statement difficult, because of one little word - "never".
I believe Jesus that he is the true sustenance and that nothing else will do.
I believe that coming to Jesus will give lasting, eternal satisfaction and will lead to never thirsting again.
What I (and I think I am not alone here) have not experienced is the 'never being thirsty again' bit.
I feel less hungry/thirsty (i.e. I feel less empty or need other things less) than I did before I figured out even in the slightest what coming to Jesus might look like. I feel a general change in my reliance from other things to Jesus. I think I will continue to hunger after other things less and less as the years go on and as my relationship develops.
What I don't believe ever happens is that someone 'comes to Jesus' and, hey presto, they're sorted for life.
My lack of belief is not in the ability of Jesus to sustain us fully each and every day for the rest of our lives.
My lack of belief is in the ability of human beings to 'come to Jesus' with their whole being. We learn gradually to give up more and more of ourselves to Christ and, as we do, we become more fulfilled; but this seems to me to be a lifelong journey and one that will never be completed in this life.
I am not accusing Jesus of lying when he says, "come to me and you will never be hungry." This is true - if we actually come to Jesus then we will never need anything else. I am suggesting that many Christians and preachers take this at face value and pass on a harmful message that this is a one-off hit that will keep you on a high for the rest of your life. What this implies is that, if the hit didn't work and you still feel thirsty, then you either did it wrong or Jesus doesn't care enough to give you what he promised.
We shouldn't be feeling the need to 'sell' a message which sounds very easy, purely because people buy it more readily. What we will find is that this message will be bought and then left to gather dust because it doesn't deliver what it says.
We should be offering people a way of life, a path or a journey which leads us into fuller life and deeper satisfaction. We should be showing people the way, and being honest about what it means. Yes, it brings joy, peace, fulfilment, hope, healing. No, it isn't easy - either to find or to follow. We need to be true to Jesus' words when he said, "For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it." (Matthew 7:14). I don't mean to be disheartening, but we do often teach something very difficult - that the gate is wide and easy to find, but the road is hard to follow.
I don't really know what to do with this message - that the gate to life is hard to find. I want to say that things are different, because that would be nicer. What I do know is that preaching a message which offers something on a plate which is, in reality, the experience of very few (i.e. a one-off conversion experience which leads to never being hungry again) is not going to help many people in the long run. I heard an oversimplified message as a teenager and have been fighting to let go of it since, as it instils in me a sense that God is somehow not interested in me because I still struggle.
I want to offer people my experience of Jesus, and the increasing joy and sustenance it has brought me over the years, and let them decide, with God, whether that reality is something they want to be a part of. That decision might take years to make and I might never learn that they made it, but that should not be something that I need to know.
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Lent 21: A helpful lapse
I was too distracted to pray today.
I wish I had.
I don't feel guilty that I didn't - I think that'd be more destructive than constructive.
I just think that my outlook on life today and my thought processes would have been different if I had.
It is so easy when one has committed to something to give up as soon as the pattern is broken. It's easier to do/not do something when we've already crossed the line (either way). I could easily make the choice to break Lent again tomorrow; but there is absolutely no reason to do so, or to believe that I have somehow failed because of one day.
I think today has just shown me how much daily prayer is doing for me and changing my priorities, and so I can almost see my day off as a positive thing, because it has shown me the difference when I do pray.
I shall try to find time and peace of mind enough for prayer again tomorrow.
I wish I had.
I don't feel guilty that I didn't - I think that'd be more destructive than constructive.
I just think that my outlook on life today and my thought processes would have been different if I had.
It is so easy when one has committed to something to give up as soon as the pattern is broken. It's easier to do/not do something when we've already crossed the line (either way). I could easily make the choice to break Lent again tomorrow; but there is absolutely no reason to do so, or to believe that I have somehow failed because of one day.
I think today has just shown me how much daily prayer is doing for me and changing my priorities, and so I can almost see my day off as a positive thing, because it has shown me the difference when I do pray.
I shall try to find time and peace of mind enough for prayer again tomorrow.
Monday, 24 March 2014
Lent 20: My no make-up selfie
My no-make up selfie is to admit that I still feel insecure even though I don't wear make-up.
I've not known how to respond to the no make-up selfie campaign because I have been unsure about how much it is actually connected to the misery of suffering from cancer or knowing someone who does, but I have been shown that a campaign can do a lot without being directly connected, and it seems to be having a good side-effect - which is to suggest to us all that make-up, when it becomes a must, hides our true beauty and possibly diminishes us in some way.
I have not worn make up daily for around six years. I wear it sometimes and really enjoy the fun of putting it on. I do find that when I wear make up I get more compliments and that tempts me to wear it when I am feeling low or insecure.
And guys, I do feel insecure. The fact I don't wear make-up does not mean I feel beautiful all the time. I wish that were true.
The reason I don't wear make-up is that I have found that I actually feel better about myself and more-empowered in the long run when I don't wear make-up, than when I do. This is because the feeling of confidence that I get from wearing make-up only lasts until I find the next thing to feel insecure about, or feel like I need to wear more make-up, or do my hair better, or whatever.
Wearing make-up makes me think more about my appearance. If I am wearing it I am more likely to hold myself in a way which I think will be attractive, or to restrict what I say and how I say it to please other people.
Not wearing make-up gives me moments where I feel really unattractive next to women who look more beautiful to me. I sometimes think thoughts like, "If I were to wear make-up maybe _____ would find me attractive."
However, not wearing make-up has also freed me, over time, to think less about my appearance (this is only less than 'a lot' - I still worry about it often). It has freed me to think things such as, "If they want me because I'm wearing make-up then they obviously aren't the kind of person I want to be with."
I think that, while I don't feel beautiful all the time by any means, I wouldn't feel more beautiful over time if I were to change anything about myself, whether that is using make-up or not. This is because the very reason we don't feel beautiful is because we believe there is something that needs to be changed. Make-up IS this. Make-up is also fun and an enhancer, as is wearing a nice dress. But make-up, at the core of why it exists, is something to change us and improve us.
Whether we wear make-up or not, while we believe the untruth that we will be more beautiful if we change ourselves, we will still feel unattractive.
The truth is, that we are most beautiful when we are fully ourselves and when we know that. If we knew how beautifully God has made us and everyone, then we would be free to relax into ourselves. That takes a long time, but it is the most life-giving process.
If being ourselves means enjoying our appearance and doing fun things with it, then that's great too. But if we feel the need to hide, we need to be asking ourselves what we are really hiding from, because I can bet you we aren't actually hiding from a spot, or rings around our eyes, or light coloured eye lashes. We are most likely hiding from ourselves and the fact we don't actually believe we would be loveable if people saw the 'real me'.
A person who knows they are loved and accepted, who loves and accepts themselves and so is free to love and accept others is so very attractive that everyone wants to be around them. It feels safe and freeing to be with them, because they don't demand anything from us. Think about the people who you most love being around and who make you feel best about yourself when you are with them. They are most likely people who have learnt to love themselves.
So the true way to feel attractive is to work on trusting in God's love for us and on loving ourselves. Then, and only then, will we feel no need for cover-ups.
Believe me, I'm not there yet.
I've not known how to respond to the no make-up selfie campaign because I have been unsure about how much it is actually connected to the misery of suffering from cancer or knowing someone who does, but I have been shown that a campaign can do a lot without being directly connected, and it seems to be having a good side-effect - which is to suggest to us all that make-up, when it becomes a must, hides our true beauty and possibly diminishes us in some way.
I have not worn make up daily for around six years. I wear it sometimes and really enjoy the fun of putting it on. I do find that when I wear make up I get more compliments and that tempts me to wear it when I am feeling low or insecure.
And guys, I do feel insecure. The fact I don't wear make-up does not mean I feel beautiful all the time. I wish that were true.
The reason I don't wear make-up is that I have found that I actually feel better about myself and more-empowered in the long run when I don't wear make-up, than when I do. This is because the feeling of confidence that I get from wearing make-up only lasts until I find the next thing to feel insecure about, or feel like I need to wear more make-up, or do my hair better, or whatever.
Wearing make-up makes me think more about my appearance. If I am wearing it I am more likely to hold myself in a way which I think will be attractive, or to restrict what I say and how I say it to please other people.
Not wearing make-up gives me moments where I feel really unattractive next to women who look more beautiful to me. I sometimes think thoughts like, "If I were to wear make-up maybe _____ would find me attractive."
However, not wearing make-up has also freed me, over time, to think less about my appearance (this is only less than 'a lot' - I still worry about it often). It has freed me to think things such as, "If they want me because I'm wearing make-up then they obviously aren't the kind of person I want to be with."
I think that, while I don't feel beautiful all the time by any means, I wouldn't feel more beautiful over time if I were to change anything about myself, whether that is using make-up or not. This is because the very reason we don't feel beautiful is because we believe there is something that needs to be changed. Make-up IS this. Make-up is also fun and an enhancer, as is wearing a nice dress. But make-up, at the core of why it exists, is something to change us and improve us.
Whether we wear make-up or not, while we believe the untruth that we will be more beautiful if we change ourselves, we will still feel unattractive.
The truth is, that we are most beautiful when we are fully ourselves and when we know that. If we knew how beautifully God has made us and everyone, then we would be free to relax into ourselves. That takes a long time, but it is the most life-giving process.
If being ourselves means enjoying our appearance and doing fun things with it, then that's great too. But if we feel the need to hide, we need to be asking ourselves what we are really hiding from, because I can bet you we aren't actually hiding from a spot, or rings around our eyes, or light coloured eye lashes. We are most likely hiding from ourselves and the fact we don't actually believe we would be loveable if people saw the 'real me'.
A person who knows they are loved and accepted, who loves and accepts themselves and so is free to love and accept others is so very attractive that everyone wants to be around them. It feels safe and freeing to be with them, because they don't demand anything from us. Think about the people who you most love being around and who make you feel best about yourself when you are with them. They are most likely people who have learnt to love themselves.
So the true way to feel attractive is to work on trusting in God's love for us and on loving ourselves. Then, and only then, will we feel no need for cover-ups.
Believe me, I'm not there yet.
Sunday, 23 March 2014
Lent 19: Poem
"I would love to live like a river flows,
carried by the surprise of its own unfolding."
John O'Donohue
I've been trying to write something to go with this poem, a poem which catches my full attention, even in its simplicity. However, there seems to be nothing I can write which adds to it, so I shall not say anything.
I simply love the thought that is this poem.
carried by the surprise of its own unfolding."
John O'Donohue
I've been trying to write something to go with this poem, a poem which catches my full attention, even in its simplicity. However, there seems to be nothing I can write which adds to it, so I shall not say anything.
I simply love the thought that is this poem.
Saturday, 22 March 2014
Lent 18: Wrestling: another thought.
I want to add something to yesterday's post about struggling with ourselves and our addictions, which has come out of the counselling course that I am doing at the moment.
Our choices and behaviour always come out of our beliefs and thoughts about life, even if these beliefs and thoughts are unconscious. We don't just learn a pattern of behaviour from nowhere - there is a reason we have learnt to live that way or to cope with certain patterns of behaviour.
A person doesn't just decide one day that conflict is to be avoided at all costs. Somewhere, deep inside a person who avoids all conflict, is the belief that conflict is a terrible, world-shattering thing. They have perhaps had a traumatic experience of conflict, or lived in a household where conflict was either too present, or never present, and so learned that conflict is really the worst thing that can happen and they will do anything to avoid it.
Trying to address our patterns of behaviour without working out what our beliefs are underneath it all will never work to lasting effect as the beliefs we hold, however distorted, will drive us to develop coping or avoidance strategies.
I know this is getting into the realms of counselling and psychotherapy, but I wanted to clarify that my previous post wasn't meant to suggest that we need to fight ourselves and force ourselves into/out of certain behaviours.
There is always hard work involved with changing habits, but the first change needs to be a change of belief about where life is to be found, or is not to be found. Then it will take time to re-learn that belief and our thinking, and so to change our behaviour. This re-learning is what I think I meant by wrestling. Chemical addictions are, of course, at least partially different as there is a literal process of physical healing that is needed in addition to changes in thinking.
So if a person truly believes that conflict is to be feared and avoided, they will do whatever they can to run from it. If, however, they can learn that they are secure in God and that they can trust God that their world will not end because of conflict, they will gradually be able to enter into situations which could potentially produce conflict. They will probably never like it, but they will not be completely shattered by it.
If we can learn to trust God and find our security in God (which takes a lifetime) then our beliefs about the world and ourselves will change, and we will be able to tackle some of the things we do which harm us and those around us. That's the theory anyway!!
Our choices and behaviour always come out of our beliefs and thoughts about life, even if these beliefs and thoughts are unconscious. We don't just learn a pattern of behaviour from nowhere - there is a reason we have learnt to live that way or to cope with certain patterns of behaviour.
A person doesn't just decide one day that conflict is to be avoided at all costs. Somewhere, deep inside a person who avoids all conflict, is the belief that conflict is a terrible, world-shattering thing. They have perhaps had a traumatic experience of conflict, or lived in a household where conflict was either too present, or never present, and so learned that conflict is really the worst thing that can happen and they will do anything to avoid it.
Trying to address our patterns of behaviour without working out what our beliefs are underneath it all will never work to lasting effect as the beliefs we hold, however distorted, will drive us to develop coping or avoidance strategies.
I know this is getting into the realms of counselling and psychotherapy, but I wanted to clarify that my previous post wasn't meant to suggest that we need to fight ourselves and force ourselves into/out of certain behaviours.
There is always hard work involved with changing habits, but the first change needs to be a change of belief about where life is to be found, or is not to be found. Then it will take time to re-learn that belief and our thinking, and so to change our behaviour. This re-learning is what I think I meant by wrestling. Chemical addictions are, of course, at least partially different as there is a literal process of physical healing that is needed in addition to changes in thinking.
So if a person truly believes that conflict is to be feared and avoided, they will do whatever they can to run from it. If, however, they can learn that they are secure in God and that they can trust God that their world will not end because of conflict, they will gradually be able to enter into situations which could potentially produce conflict. They will probably never like it, but they will not be completely shattered by it.
If we can learn to trust God and find our security in God (which takes a lifetime) then our beliefs about the world and ourselves will change, and we will be able to tackle some of the things we do which harm us and those around us. That's the theory anyway!!
Friday, 21 March 2014
Lent 17: Wrestling
"So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak." Genesis 32: 24
Lent is a time of wrestling.
In Lent we often choose to give something up or take something on as a challenge - as a way of teaching ourselves something, or allowing God to teach us something.
I think Christians can sometimes end up with the impression (or give the impression) that life with God, when done right, should be a piece of cake. Phrases like, "All you have to do is ask God and..." or "Just pray and...." are used really rather often. The truth behind these statements is that God is able and we should be giving over the power to God rather than trying to do everything ourselves. The lie behind them is the suggestion that it will, or should, be easy. It sometimes is, and usually isn't, in my experience.
As Jesus wrestled in the desert - with himself, with the devil, with temptation - in Lent we try to use the act of giving something up or taking something on to shift our reliance on one thing back onto God - e.g. you recognise that you always eat chocolate or go on Facebook when you are feeling low, rather than looking to God for support and sustenance. Or you daydream about certain scenarios when things get tough in order to escape from reality.
These things we turn to are, in a way, addictions. We feel we cannot live without them, or have learned to rely upon them. Why would giving up an addiction be anything other than a struggle? And there won't just be one of these to overcome in a Christian's lifetime.
Just like when someone comes off a drug addiction and "goes cold turkey" - they have to wrestle with themselves physically, mentally and emotionally for a long period of time and often for the rest of their lives - coming off any addiction, whether chemical, emotional or experiential, will usually be very tough.
There is a model of learning called The Concious Competence model. This suggests that there are four phases of learning to do something differently:
Unconscious incompetence - when we do something without realising we do it
Conscious incompetence - when we realise we do something but are incapable of doing it otherwise
Conscious competence - when we can do it differently when we think about it
Unconscious competence - when we do something differently without having to think about it
I find this model very helpful because the phases of conscious incompetence and conscious competence are really tough, but there is the hope that, with practice, the new way of doing things will become natural and unconscious. However hard the learning is, an easier time will come.
If Lent is a time of facing up to our misplaced reliance, then it will in places feel like wrestling with ourselves and with God. Emotions and questions will come up which we may have never experienced before, and it might be frustrating and exhausting. The hope is, though, that through this struggle new life and a new way of being will be born in the resurrected Christ and in us.
Lent is a time of wrestling.
In Lent we often choose to give something up or take something on as a challenge - as a way of teaching ourselves something, or allowing God to teach us something.
I think Christians can sometimes end up with the impression (or give the impression) that life with God, when done right, should be a piece of cake. Phrases like, "All you have to do is ask God and..." or "Just pray and...." are used really rather often. The truth behind these statements is that God is able and we should be giving over the power to God rather than trying to do everything ourselves. The lie behind them is the suggestion that it will, or should, be easy. It sometimes is, and usually isn't, in my experience.
As Jesus wrestled in the desert - with himself, with the devil, with temptation - in Lent we try to use the act of giving something up or taking something on to shift our reliance on one thing back onto God - e.g. you recognise that you always eat chocolate or go on Facebook when you are feeling low, rather than looking to God for support and sustenance. Or you daydream about certain scenarios when things get tough in order to escape from reality.
These things we turn to are, in a way, addictions. We feel we cannot live without them, or have learned to rely upon them. Why would giving up an addiction be anything other than a struggle? And there won't just be one of these to overcome in a Christian's lifetime.
Just like when someone comes off a drug addiction and "goes cold turkey" - they have to wrestle with themselves physically, mentally and emotionally for a long period of time and often for the rest of their lives - coming off any addiction, whether chemical, emotional or experiential, will usually be very tough.
There is a model of learning called The Concious Competence model. This suggests that there are four phases of learning to do something differently:
Unconscious incompetence - when we do something without realising we do it
Conscious incompetence - when we realise we do something but are incapable of doing it otherwise
Conscious competence - when we can do it differently when we think about it
Unconscious competence - when we do something differently without having to think about it
I find this model very helpful because the phases of conscious incompetence and conscious competence are really tough, but there is the hope that, with practice, the new way of doing things will become natural and unconscious. However hard the learning is, an easier time will come.
If Lent is a time of facing up to our misplaced reliance, then it will in places feel like wrestling with ourselves and with God. Emotions and questions will come up which we may have never experienced before, and it might be frustrating and exhausting. The hope is, though, that through this struggle new life and a new way of being will be born in the resurrected Christ and in us.
Thursday, 20 March 2014
Lent 16: A truly sad ending
We learned today that Fred Phelps, founder and (excommunicated?) leader of the much hated Westboro Baptist Church, has died.
I take no joy in this news. I instead feel a very deep sorrow for, I fear, Fred Phelps learned very little of grace and love in his 84 years of life.
Not only this, but he gave the impression of revelling in hate, abuse and dissension. He created a culture within his church (if one can call it that) of enjoying the pain of others and of proclaiming judgement over anyone who wasn't involved with them. If you ever saw videos of their protests, or of them speaking about their beliefs, they laugh and apparently enjoy the awful things they say and do.
I fear that Fred Phelps, even if he did love those around him, did not ever learn of the joyful and hopeful message of the gospel. I feel intensely sad because he never had the opportunity to live in true love and freedom, and to experience the joy of offering and receiving forgiveness. Not only that but he, and his message, damaged some peoples' view of the Christian message, the Bible and God.
I have no thoughts regarding his eternity - that, for me, is God's business. I am simply sorry that he didn't get to experience heaven on earth as I have and hope to, and because he believed so strongly in a hateful and vengeful god. Because he used the Bible and the Christian message to support this view, he blinded himself and those in his community to the possibility of experiencing God as I know God to be.
I hope, one day, that the passion and drive will be taken out of the community and they will find another way of being. I hope that, if they do do this, there will be enough grace in the communities they go to to forgive and accept them. I hope and pray that they come to know God, and people, as I know God and people to be.
I take no joy in this news. I instead feel a very deep sorrow for, I fear, Fred Phelps learned very little of grace and love in his 84 years of life.
Not only this, but he gave the impression of revelling in hate, abuse and dissension. He created a culture within his church (if one can call it that) of enjoying the pain of others and of proclaiming judgement over anyone who wasn't involved with them. If you ever saw videos of their protests, or of them speaking about their beliefs, they laugh and apparently enjoy the awful things they say and do.
I fear that Fred Phelps, even if he did love those around him, did not ever learn of the joyful and hopeful message of the gospel. I feel intensely sad because he never had the opportunity to live in true love and freedom, and to experience the joy of offering and receiving forgiveness. Not only that but he, and his message, damaged some peoples' view of the Christian message, the Bible and God.
I have no thoughts regarding his eternity - that, for me, is God's business. I am simply sorry that he didn't get to experience heaven on earth as I have and hope to, and because he believed so strongly in a hateful and vengeful god. Because he used the Bible and the Christian message to support this view, he blinded himself and those in his community to the possibility of experiencing God as I know God to be.
I hope, one day, that the passion and drive will be taken out of the community and they will find another way of being. I hope that, if they do do this, there will be enough grace in the communities they go to to forgive and accept them. I hope and pray that they come to know God, and people, as I know God and people to be.
Wednesday, 19 March 2014
Lent 15: Active healing
Then Jesus said to him, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." John 5: 8
Jesus said this to the man by the pool before the man knew he had been healed. Jesus asked the man to do something that the man knew he couldn't, but did anyway when Jesus asked him.
This is very far from passive healing. Jesus asked the man to take part in his own healing - to take a literal step of faith, if you like.
How often do we metaphorically lie on the ground with legs that don't work and wait expect Jesus to come and physically pick us up and do the walking for us?
I think Jesus often asks us to take part in our own healing.
He says to us, "Get up", "Walk", "Try", "Have a go".
It is far scarier to have to do things this way as we might well fall down and look stupid.
Care providers these days have realised that if a person takes part in their own process of getting better, or working towards goals, they actually have far more success and are more likely to persist in the paths they have chosen. If everything is handed to them on a plate it is dis-abling and unmotivating.
If Jesus were to hand everything to us on a plate just as we ask for it, perhaps we wouldn't learn to value and to live what we receive and learn. If we have learnt for ourselves, in Christ, that we can do something or that healing is available, perhaps we actually benefit more from it in the long-run.
Perhaps we will also be more grateful for the changes that come about in our lives, and we will have more to offer to others from our experience because we have taken an active part in our lives.
Jesus said this to the man by the pool before the man knew he had been healed. Jesus asked the man to do something that the man knew he couldn't, but did anyway when Jesus asked him.
This is very far from passive healing. Jesus asked the man to take part in his own healing - to take a literal step of faith, if you like.
How often do we metaphorically lie on the ground with legs that don't work and wait expect Jesus to come and physically pick us up and do the walking for us?
I think Jesus often asks us to take part in our own healing.
He says to us, "Get up", "Walk", "Try", "Have a go".
It is far scarier to have to do things this way as we might well fall down and look stupid.
Care providers these days have realised that if a person takes part in their own process of getting better, or working towards goals, they actually have far more success and are more likely to persist in the paths they have chosen. If everything is handed to them on a plate it is dis-abling and unmotivating.
If Jesus were to hand everything to us on a plate just as we ask for it, perhaps we wouldn't learn to value and to live what we receive and learn. If we have learnt for ourselves, in Christ, that we can do something or that healing is available, perhaps we actually benefit more from it in the long-run.
Perhaps we will also be more grateful for the changes that come about in our lives, and we will have more to offer to others from our experience because we have taken an active part in our lives.
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
Lent 14: Do you want to get well?
Jesus asked him, "Do you want to get well?" John 5:6
What a stupid question! "Do you want to get well", indeed! Of course he wants to get well - don't we all?
Maybe we do, maybe we don't.
It depends what is at stake. It depends what 'getting well' would mean for us.
Perhaps 'getting well' might involve giving something up that we have come to rely on, even though it is something damaging.
Perhaps 'getting well' means quite a lot of effort and learning of self-control.
Perhaps 'getting well' would make redundant the main topic of conversation that we have these days.
Or maybe 'getting well' means giving over control to someone else, control that we like to have for ourselves.
There is that hilarious scene in 'The Life of Brian' where an 'ex-leper' approaches Brian, moaning about the fact that Jesus healed him and took away his livelihood. Illness, for him, was his way of being.
Do you want to get well?
A big question.
When we say yes with our lips, are we saying yes in our hearts - giving over the control to Jesus, whatever that might mean? Or are we really saying no without realising it?
What a stupid question! "Do you want to get well", indeed! Of course he wants to get well - don't we all?
Maybe we do, maybe we don't.
It depends what is at stake. It depends what 'getting well' would mean for us.
Perhaps 'getting well' might involve giving something up that we have come to rely on, even though it is something damaging.
Perhaps 'getting well' means quite a lot of effort and learning of self-control.
Perhaps 'getting well' would make redundant the main topic of conversation that we have these days.
Or maybe 'getting well' means giving over control to someone else, control that we like to have for ourselves.
There is that hilarious scene in 'The Life of Brian' where an 'ex-leper' approaches Brian, moaning about the fact that Jesus healed him and took away his livelihood. Illness, for him, was his way of being.
Do you want to get well?
A big question.
When we say yes with our lips, are we saying yes in our hearts - giving over the control to Jesus, whatever that might mean? Or are we really saying no without realising it?
Monday, 17 March 2014
Lent 13: What would make you believe?
"Unless you people see miraculous signs and wonders," Jesus told him, "you will never believe." John 4:48
It occurs to me that, for myself, and for many, the problem is different. No matter how many miraculous signs and wonders I see, I will not believe.
It is not that I don't believe, but seeing or hearing about miracles doesn't seem to increase my belief. At the time I am amazed and say, now I can truly believe. But after a while that feeling weathers a bit and I am not quite so sure if it ever really happened, or whether there isn't just a different explanation.
I wonder what Jesus would say to me and to our society instead of this. Perhaps, "Unless you people have rational explanations and proved evidence for my existence, you will never believe."
In the end, no end of miracles and/or rational explanations for God will make me believe.
What makes me believe is looking back over my life and seeing the fine, but strong, thread of God's work in my life.
The gentle hand that has lead me, picked me up, dusted me off and started off patiently with me again.
It is seeing the times when I have tried to exist independently of God, and what has happened; and the times when I have thrown myself upon God for guidance, and what has happened.
It is those times when God has met with me so tangibly and so powerfully, that I cannot deny it.
It is the gentle but overwhelming presence of Jesus which I am learning to wait upon.
It is the coming-to-life in the Spirit of words written thousands of years ago, and when they speak right into the centre of myself.
It is the gradual realisation which strengthens with each experience, that God is leading me somewhere, and if I will follow, it will be so very good.
It is the way in which I have seen the Creator of the world creating continuously and bringing good out of what is painful and difficult.
Miracles can be wonderful and beautiful things, so can rational thought and reason (gotta love modern medicine), but I believe God's true mission is in the hearts of people and so their experience is where belief is truly grounded. That is where mine is to be found.
It occurs to me that, for myself, and for many, the problem is different. No matter how many miraculous signs and wonders I see, I will not believe.
It is not that I don't believe, but seeing or hearing about miracles doesn't seem to increase my belief. At the time I am amazed and say, now I can truly believe. But after a while that feeling weathers a bit and I am not quite so sure if it ever really happened, or whether there isn't just a different explanation.
I wonder what Jesus would say to me and to our society instead of this. Perhaps, "Unless you people have rational explanations and proved evidence for my existence, you will never believe."
In the end, no end of miracles and/or rational explanations for God will make me believe.
What makes me believe is looking back over my life and seeing the fine, but strong, thread of God's work in my life.
The gentle hand that has lead me, picked me up, dusted me off and started off patiently with me again.
It is seeing the times when I have tried to exist independently of God, and what has happened; and the times when I have thrown myself upon God for guidance, and what has happened.
It is those times when God has met with me so tangibly and so powerfully, that I cannot deny it.
It is the gentle but overwhelming presence of Jesus which I am learning to wait upon.
It is the coming-to-life in the Spirit of words written thousands of years ago, and when they speak right into the centre of myself.
It is the gradual realisation which strengthens with each experience, that God is leading me somewhere, and if I will follow, it will be so very good.
It is the way in which I have seen the Creator of the world creating continuously and bringing good out of what is painful and difficult.
Miracles can be wonderful and beautiful things, so can rational thought and reason (gotta love modern medicine), but I believe God's true mission is in the hearts of people and so their experience is where belief is truly grounded. That is where mine is to be found.
Sunday, 16 March 2014
Lent 12: Breaking habits
I've been thinking recently about how we break unhelpful habits of thought and behaviour which we have developed over years or even a lifetime.
It's hard enough to avoid certain behaviour or thoughts when we have had enough sleep, are happy and are busy, but what about when we are tired, unhappy or have too much time on our hands?
One of these habits for me is sitting staring aimlessly at a computer screen sifting through pointless information on the internet when I am tired and should really be in bed. I know I am not really finding whatever it is I am looking for, but somehow can't drag myself away.
Whatever it is that we do which we know doesn't really do us any good, but somehow can't stop doing, I don't believe we can change habits until we have figured out why we follow that pattern of behaviour.
Then we need to find something else to fill that space.
Then we need to want it to fill the space.
And then we need to keep practising and practising until we've gradually learnt to think or act differently.
And even then we'll probably do it sometimes anyway.
But in all this, we need above all to be gentle and forgiving with ourselves. If we beat ourselves up about something then we'll only feel rubbish about ourselves and probably go straight back to that behaviour which we find some sort of temporary comfort or distraction in.
Recognition of a problem is the first step to overcoming the problem, for sure, but without the knowledge that we are secure and loved, we will struggle to replace a problem with anything other than another problem.
"I have loved you with an everlasting love" Jeremiah 31: 3
It's hard enough to avoid certain behaviour or thoughts when we have had enough sleep, are happy and are busy, but what about when we are tired, unhappy or have too much time on our hands?
One of these habits for me is sitting staring aimlessly at a computer screen sifting through pointless information on the internet when I am tired and should really be in bed. I know I am not really finding whatever it is I am looking for, but somehow can't drag myself away.
Whatever it is that we do which we know doesn't really do us any good, but somehow can't stop doing, I don't believe we can change habits until we have figured out why we follow that pattern of behaviour.
Then we need to find something else to fill that space.
Then we need to want it to fill the space.
And then we need to keep practising and practising until we've gradually learnt to think or act differently.
And even then we'll probably do it sometimes anyway.
But in all this, we need above all to be gentle and forgiving with ourselves. If we beat ourselves up about something then we'll only feel rubbish about ourselves and probably go straight back to that behaviour which we find some sort of temporary comfort or distraction in.
Recognition of a problem is the first step to overcoming the problem, for sure, but without the knowledge that we are secure and loved, we will struggle to replace a problem with anything other than another problem.
"I have loved you with an everlasting love" Jeremiah 31: 3
Friday, 14 March 2014
Lent 10: Turning on the tap?
Jesus answered, "Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life." John 4: 13-14
What is this living water? And how do I get it, because I would really like never to be thirsty again.
I have a feeling that it isn't just a one-time thing. I have a feeling that I can't just ask once and then be sorted for the rest of my days, though that'd be pretty great.
I think that this spring of water must be something we receive both at the beginning and along the way as we learn and grow and explore.
I don't know this, I'm just guessing; because if I'm wrong and it's a one-time-only thing, then I need to be asking what I'm doing wrong, because I don't feel like I have it yet. I feel like I've touched or tasted it at times, but I definitely do not have an eternal spring of living water flowing out from within me.
If I need to be asking what I'm doing wrong, then it makes me wonder about the whole message because Jesus seems to suggest that we need only ask.
No, I think this is something we ask for every day and we draw upon in all we do. I think we need a lifetime to learn to ask for and to receive this living water.
It'd be easier, but probably a whole lot less fulfilling, if we could just turn on the living-water-tap in the bathtub of our lives. It's probably a bit more like a fountain that we need to learn to stand under and which we keep wandering away from when we think we've had our fill.
What is this living water? And how do I get it, because I would really like never to be thirsty again.
I have a feeling that it isn't just a one-time thing. I have a feeling that I can't just ask once and then be sorted for the rest of my days, though that'd be pretty great.
I think that this spring of water must be something we receive both at the beginning and along the way as we learn and grow and explore.
I don't know this, I'm just guessing; because if I'm wrong and it's a one-time-only thing, then I need to be asking what I'm doing wrong, because I don't feel like I have it yet. I feel like I've touched or tasted it at times, but I definitely do not have an eternal spring of living water flowing out from within me.
If I need to be asking what I'm doing wrong, then it makes me wonder about the whole message because Jesus seems to suggest that we need only ask.
No, I think this is something we ask for every day and we draw upon in all we do. I think we need a lifetime to learn to ask for and to receive this living water.
It'd be easier, but probably a whole lot less fulfilling, if we could just turn on the living-water-tap in the bathtub of our lives. It's probably a bit more like a fountain that we need to learn to stand under and which we keep wandering away from when we think we've had our fill.
Thursday, 13 March 2014
Lent 9: Passing on praise
John replied "... I am not the Christ but am sent ahead of him." John 3: 28.
John's response to the questions of his disciples about Jesus is one which takes the gaze of those around him away from himself and onto Jesus - the one who he knows to be "the Christ".
He is not self-deprecating, or falsely humble - he simply knows where his strength and his words came from and wishes that to be peoples' focus.
I always struggle to know where the line is between false (and slightly annoying) 'Christian' humility which rebuffs any compliment or thanks in a slightly Uriah Heap-ian fashion, and true Christian humility which comes from one who knows their worth and beauty in God, and passes all compliment and thanks through themselves and onto the one who gives them all that they have. One is an avoidance of the beauty and worth in a person based on the distorted belief that the only beauty and worth in the world is in God; and the other is based on the gentle and joyful knowledge that one is loved to the core unconditionally (which, in essence, means that one can have done nothing to win that love, and can do nothing to change it) and so comes to the point where they can accept all praise and thanks and pass it quietly onto God without it changing their knowledge of their beloved-ness.
John, for me, demonstrates the second kind of humility. He could have allowed the focus to come onto himself for he was most certainly an excellent speaker and evangelist; but his eyes were fixed on the one who gave him all that he had and so it was no problem to him, nor a lessening of his worth to pass people's attention immediately onto his Lord.
I have a lot to learn from John; but I will not learn it by forcing myself to somehow ignore praise or to find success meaningless. This attitude can only come gradually and willingly with the knowledge that all I am and all I have finds its source in God. Then it will be my pleasure and joy to pass all praise and thanks onto God, and to feel myself to be no less or no more in the process.
John's response to the questions of his disciples about Jesus is one which takes the gaze of those around him away from himself and onto Jesus - the one who he knows to be "the Christ".
He is not self-deprecating, or falsely humble - he simply knows where his strength and his words came from and wishes that to be peoples' focus.
I always struggle to know where the line is between false (and slightly annoying) 'Christian' humility which rebuffs any compliment or thanks in a slightly Uriah Heap-ian fashion, and true Christian humility which comes from one who knows their worth and beauty in God, and passes all compliment and thanks through themselves and onto the one who gives them all that they have. One is an avoidance of the beauty and worth in a person based on the distorted belief that the only beauty and worth in the world is in God; and the other is based on the gentle and joyful knowledge that one is loved to the core unconditionally (which, in essence, means that one can have done nothing to win that love, and can do nothing to change it) and so comes to the point where they can accept all praise and thanks and pass it quietly onto God without it changing their knowledge of their beloved-ness.
John, for me, demonstrates the second kind of humility. He could have allowed the focus to come onto himself for he was most certainly an excellent speaker and evangelist; but his eyes were fixed on the one who gave him all that he had and so it was no problem to him, nor a lessening of his worth to pass people's attention immediately onto his Lord.
I have a lot to learn from John; but I will not learn it by forcing myself to somehow ignore praise or to find success meaningless. This attitude can only come gradually and willingly with the knowledge that all I am and all I have finds its source in God. Then it will be my pleasure and joy to pass all praise and thanks onto God, and to feel myself to be no less or no more in the process.
Wednesday, 12 March 2014
Lent 8: Homesickness
For today's mumble, I am partially stealing Janet Morley's reflection on the poem "Homesick" by Carol Ann Duffy, which was the poem from Monday from her Lent book, "The Heart's Time" (which everyone should read!).
When we love, when we tell ourselves we do,
we are pining for first love, somewhen,
before we thought of wanting it. When we rearrange
the rooms we end up living in, we are looking
for first light, the arrangement of light,
that time, before we knew to call it light.
Or talk of music, when we say
we cannot talk of it, but play again
C major, A flat minor, we are straining
for first sound, what we heard once,
then, in lost chords, wordless languages.
What country do we come from? This one?
The one where the sun burns
when we have night? The one
the moon chills; elsewhere, possible?
Why is our love imperfect,
music only echo of itself,
the light wrong?
We scratch in dust with sticks,
dying of homesickness
for when, where, what.
Carol Ann Duffy
I have noticed that it is possible to feel lonely, homesick or lost in any place - no matter how well you know it or how many people you know and love there. There is a need deep down within us to belong, and we look for it around us. When we do not find what we are looking for, we feel a strong desire for something/somewhere/someone else.
If we were looking for what we desire, not in our surroundings, but deep within us and in the One who we find there, then, in theory, we would never feel seriously homesick, lost or lonely in any place. We are made for relationship and community, so we do need people around us too, but if we made our home in God then we would never be fully shaken into unbearable homesickness.
Jesus said, "If anyone loves me, they will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them." John 14: 23
When we love, when we tell ourselves we do,
we are pining for first love, somewhen,
before we thought of wanting it. When we rearrange
the rooms we end up living in, we are looking
for first light, the arrangement of light,
that time, before we knew to call it light.
Or talk of music, when we say
we cannot talk of it, but play again
C major, A flat minor, we are straining
for first sound, what we heard once,
then, in lost chords, wordless languages.
What country do we come from? This one?
The one where the sun burns
when we have night? The one
the moon chills; elsewhere, possible?
Why is our love imperfect,
music only echo of itself,
the light wrong?
We scratch in dust with sticks,
dying of homesickness
for when, where, what.
Carol Ann Duffy
I have noticed that it is possible to feel lonely, homesick or lost in any place - no matter how well you know it or how many people you know and love there. There is a need deep down within us to belong, and we look for it around us. When we do not find what we are looking for, we feel a strong desire for something/somewhere/someone else.
If we were looking for what we desire, not in our surroundings, but deep within us and in the One who we find there, then, in theory, we would never feel seriously homesick, lost or lonely in any place. We are made for relationship and community, so we do need people around us too, but if we made our home in God then we would never be fully shaken into unbearable homesickness.
Jesus said, "If anyone loves me, they will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them." John 14: 23
Tuesday, 11 March 2014
Lent 7: Everything is God's temple?
Jesus... said, "... How dare you turn my Father's house into a market." John 2: 16
Which sacred things in ourselves and our lives have we turned into "a market"?
Our minds? - Used only for logic, reason and the exchange of ideas?
Our hearts? - Given away too easily for whatever we can get for them?
Our bodies? - Used purely as tools for art, sex or sport?
Our friends? - Exchanged and forgotten too quickly when things get tough?
Our planet? - Stripped for resources and beaten into compliance?
These things all come from God and belong to God and we have been made stewards of them.
What does it mean to treat these things as God's temple?
Which sacred things in ourselves and our lives have we turned into "a market"?
Our minds? - Used only for logic, reason and the exchange of ideas?
Our hearts? - Given away too easily for whatever we can get for them?
Our bodies? - Used purely as tools for art, sex or sport?
Our friends? - Exchanged and forgotten too quickly when things get tough?
Our planet? - Stripped for resources and beaten into compliance?
These things all come from God and belong to God and we have been made stewards of them.
What does it mean to treat these things as God's temple?
Monday, 10 March 2014
Lent 6: Wine into water
John 2: 1-11 tells the very well known story of Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana.
This story always seems to come as a surprise to me - part of me slightly disapproves at the idea of Jesus using his God-given powers to provide around 150 gallons of wine for a party.
Not only this but the wine Jesus produces is very good wine - better than all the other wine drunk that night. (2: 10)
I think I am surprised and slightly shocked at this story because a part of me believes that a life following God will exclude all fun and excess and will be a good, but stern and possibly boring, way of life.
Like turning my chocolate into celery sticks - healthy, but rather dull - I think deep down I expect God to turn the "wine" in my life into "water".
I have so far read very little in the Bible to suggest that a life with God means a "stern and possibly boring" life. I have read quite a lot to suggest that with God we will have more than enough - an excess of good things (how we interpret "good things" is another matter). I think it is some of Church tradition dating right back to the Pharisees which gives us the idea that God will turn our wine into water (and we should be grateful for it!).
Lets start believing that God wants to turn our water into wine, our sadness into joy, and our mourning into celebration, and not the other way around.
This story always seems to come as a surprise to me - part of me slightly disapproves at the idea of Jesus using his God-given powers to provide around 150 gallons of wine for a party.
Not only this but the wine Jesus produces is very good wine - better than all the other wine drunk that night. (2: 10)
I think I am surprised and slightly shocked at this story because a part of me believes that a life following God will exclude all fun and excess and will be a good, but stern and possibly boring, way of life.
Like turning my chocolate into celery sticks - healthy, but rather dull - I think deep down I expect God to turn the "wine" in my life into "water".
I have so far read very little in the Bible to suggest that a life with God means a "stern and possibly boring" life. I have read quite a lot to suggest that with God we will have more than enough - an excess of good things (how we interpret "good things" is another matter). I think it is some of Church tradition dating right back to the Pharisees which gives us the idea that God will turn our wine into water (and we should be grateful for it!).
Lets start believing that God wants to turn our water into wine, our sadness into joy, and our mourning into celebration, and not the other way around.
Sunday, 9 March 2014
Lent 5: The temptation to twist things
Jesus answered, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" Matthew 4: 4
(Some of my thoughts for my blog today are pinched from the sermon I heard this morning...)
Jesus' temptation to turn the stones around him into bread to satisfy his hunger could be translated in our lives into any time that we are tempted to turn something/someone into something/someone it is not in order to satisfy a bodily need. It might be the temptation to eat too much to comfort oneself, to see someone else as a sexual object, to buy too many clothes in order to feel beautiful, to drink too much alcohol to dull pain or boredom, to hoard money in order to feel safe, to become addicted to social media sites to ignore feelings of loneliness.
Possessions, and having relationships and friends can be special, life-giving, joy-bringing things. When we twist and manipulate them, however, to fit into the spaces within us that need filling, we lessen both those things and ourselves.
Jesus answered that we should live, "by every word that comes from the mouth of God."
I don't yet really know how to live this way, but as I've said, I haven't really tried properly. It is all very well to speak of reliance on God, but what does that actually mean for my life when it comes to bodily needs?
(Some of my thoughts for my blog today are pinched from the sermon I heard this morning...)
Jesus' temptation to turn the stones around him into bread to satisfy his hunger could be translated in our lives into any time that we are tempted to turn something/someone into something/someone it is not in order to satisfy a bodily need. It might be the temptation to eat too much to comfort oneself, to see someone else as a sexual object, to buy too many clothes in order to feel beautiful, to drink too much alcohol to dull pain or boredom, to hoard money in order to feel safe, to become addicted to social media sites to ignore feelings of loneliness.
Possessions, and having relationships and friends can be special, life-giving, joy-bringing things. When we twist and manipulate them, however, to fit into the spaces within us that need filling, we lessen both those things and ourselves.
Jesus answered that we should live, "by every word that comes from the mouth of God."
I don't yet really know how to live this way, but as I've said, I haven't really tried properly. It is all very well to speak of reliance on God, but what does that actually mean for my life when it comes to bodily needs?
Saturday, 8 March 2014
Lent 4: Jesus, 50% my Lord
Jesus found Philip and said to him, "Follow me." John 1: 43
I found out yesterday after a period of uncertainty about how long it would take me to find a job that I have two job interviews coming up. Obviously two interviews does not equate to having a job, but I am already feeling more secure and certain that things will be ok.
In the past weeks I have been feeling a bit down and very unsure about a few things and have been seeking God in the midst of it all. While this time hasn't been too easy, it has been kind of exciting to feel my need for God that much and to genuinely want to replace some of my "idols" with a deeper relationship with Christ. I have possibly never been so keen!
Then I was offered a sort-of-security on a platter and found myself immediately feeling drawn to that (even though it is hardly a certainty) rather than the eternal and all-consuming security of life lived in reliance on God.
So I now come to a crossroads which I have stood at many a time - do I follow the immediate but incomplete and transient satisfaction of finding my stability in my job, money, relationships etc, or do I choose to follow Jesus and learn to know myself to be safe and secure in him? (Don't worry, I don't think that following Jesus means becoming a nun or a hermit, it is just about what I rely on.) I have always, in the end, chosen to make work, money or relationships more important than Christ in my life. Christ has usually been allowed a percentage of my trust and dependence, but I'm not sure it has ever remained at above 50% for long.
Jesus says, "Follow me."
I say, "I'm going to need a hell of a lot of help."
I found out yesterday after a period of uncertainty about how long it would take me to find a job that I have two job interviews coming up. Obviously two interviews does not equate to having a job, but I am already feeling more secure and certain that things will be ok.
In the past weeks I have been feeling a bit down and very unsure about a few things and have been seeking God in the midst of it all. While this time hasn't been too easy, it has been kind of exciting to feel my need for God that much and to genuinely want to replace some of my "idols" with a deeper relationship with Christ. I have possibly never been so keen!
Then I was offered a sort-of-security on a platter and found myself immediately feeling drawn to that (even though it is hardly a certainty) rather than the eternal and all-consuming security of life lived in reliance on God.
So I now come to a crossroads which I have stood at many a time - do I follow the immediate but incomplete and transient satisfaction of finding my stability in my job, money, relationships etc, or do I choose to follow Jesus and learn to know myself to be safe and secure in him? (Don't worry, I don't think that following Jesus means becoming a nun or a hermit, it is just about what I rely on.) I have always, in the end, chosen to make work, money or relationships more important than Christ in my life. Christ has usually been allowed a percentage of my trust and dependence, but I'm not sure it has ever remained at above 50% for long.
Jesus says, "Follow me."
I say, "I'm going to need a hell of a lot of help."
Friday, 7 March 2014
Lent 3: The restless heart
Jesus said to them, "What are you looking for?" John 1: 38
What am I looking for?
I begin to answer, "A job, stability, and to know what my life will look like soon...."
What am I really looking for?
I am reminded of Augustine's famous prayer, "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you."
A restless heart is something I know all too well. Yet again today I sit and try to pray and my mind is all over the place, trying to find an answer to my uncertain life situation. Usually when this happens I decide that this is God's fault - if God were truly there and interested in me, it would be easy to focus.
I now believe that I am just horribly out of practice. God does not force anything, let alone my attention. I am not used to sitting attentively in the presence of God, and so find it difficult.
This Lent I shall practice, stubbornly and hopefully, believing this to be the way to true rest for my restless heart.
What am I looking for?
I begin to answer, "A job, stability, and to know what my life will look like soon...."
What am I really looking for?
I am reminded of Augustine's famous prayer, "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you."
A restless heart is something I know all too well. Yet again today I sit and try to pray and my mind is all over the place, trying to find an answer to my uncertain life situation. Usually when this happens I decide that this is God's fault - if God were truly there and interested in me, it would be easy to focus.
I now believe that I am just horribly out of practice. God does not force anything, let alone my attention. I am not used to sitting attentively in the presence of God, and so find it difficult.
This Lent I shall practice, stubbornly and hopefully, believing this to be the way to true rest for my restless heart.
Thursday, 6 March 2014
Lent 2: Sindependence!
John saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" John 1: 29
I sat down this morning to pray. I sat in the presence of the King of kings, and all I could think about was what I would write in my blog today.
I have never liked the word "sin" - I've never felt like a bad enough person to use it of myself - but "sin" is too often understood as being the same as "sins", which are really just symptoms of "sin".
"Sin" is a state of independence from God - the one who created and sustains us. It is the attempt to do things on our own steam. Anything that comes out of the basic belief that I am lord of my own life could be called "sins", but the real issue is that independence - the attempt to claim that I don't need God.
I sat in my Lord's presence and could only think about what I would write in my blog - a blog that I intended to be a record of my journey with Christ through Lent and which I quickly made about me and my success.
Jesus "takes away the sin of the world."
Jesus reconnects us with God. Jesus paves the way. Jesus shows us what a life lived in complete dependence on God looks like.
Jesus doesn't stop us from messing up - he points, in all he is and does, to the one who creates and sustains us and invites us to follow.
I sat down this morning to pray. I sat in the presence of the King of kings, and all I could think about was what I would write in my blog today.
I have never liked the word "sin" - I've never felt like a bad enough person to use it of myself - but "sin" is too often understood as being the same as "sins", which are really just symptoms of "sin".
"Sin" is a state of independence from God - the one who created and sustains us. It is the attempt to do things on our own steam. Anything that comes out of the basic belief that I am lord of my own life could be called "sins", but the real issue is that independence - the attempt to claim that I don't need God.
I sat in my Lord's presence and could only think about what I would write in my blog - a blog that I intended to be a record of my journey with Christ through Lent and which I quickly made about me and my success.
Jesus "takes away the sin of the world."
Jesus reconnects us with God. Jesus paves the way. Jesus shows us what a life lived in complete dependence on God looks like.
Jesus doesn't stop us from messing up - he points, in all he is and does, to the one who creates and sustains us and invites us to follow.
Wednesday, 5 March 2014
Lent 1: Come.... No really.
Jesus said "Let anyone who is thirsty come to me" (John 7: 37)
I say, "Tell me first what you can do to help me, then I'll think about coming."
Jesus says, "come".
There is no 'after', no 'then'. Maybe it is not something that Jesus will do that will quench our thirst, but it is Jesus himself - simply coming to him.
A lifelong journey - learning to come to him.
I am an onlooker, watching Jesus like a hawk to see if I can trust him, but never really coming. I'm not even sure I know what it means to truly come to him.
One thing I know is that I've never really tried. Never really tried. I've always been too scared of rejection - of there being nothing there.
"Come to me", he says.
"Ok maybe", I reply.
I say, "Tell me first what you can do to help me, then I'll think about coming."
Jesus says, "come".
There is no 'after', no 'then'. Maybe it is not something that Jesus will do that will quench our thirst, but it is Jesus himself - simply coming to him.
A lifelong journey - learning to come to him.
I am an onlooker, watching Jesus like a hawk to see if I can trust him, but never really coming. I'm not even sure I know what it means to truly come to him.
One thing I know is that I've never really tried. Never really tried. I've always been too scared of rejection - of there being nothing there.
"Come to me", he says.
"Ok maybe", I reply.
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