Where next?

If I am honest I put too much hope in the election result, in a change of government, in a change of culture and approach.  The exit poll and subsequent results have knocked me flat: I am honestly not sure how I am going to cope with another five years of Conservative government.  Another five years of being described as a "scrounger" and a "shirker", another five years of the poorest in society suffering the most, another five years of fear and blame and divide and rule.

It is not that I hate the Conservatives per se, or that I hate Conservative voters.  I do hate the campaign they ran, filled with fear, fear of the Scots, fear of the economy, fear that if you do not grasp all you have you may lose it.  I hate the idea that all that matters is you, you and your hard working family, nothing else matters.  I hate the idea that the poor deserve poverty, that it is a matter of personal responsibility, if only people tried harder they would not be poor.  This is blatantly untrue: it ignores all the structures that keep people poor.

I am filled with dread of what £12 billion of welfare cuts are going to mean to my community, to the disabled, none of whom chose their circumstances, what is going to happen?  How are we to live?  What is it going to mean for the increasing numbers of children growing up in poverty?

There is so much that concerns me, scares me, angers me, I feel so passionately about what is happening.  But, but, I am ill, I am exhausted, the anger and anxiety make me more exhausted and sore and ill.  How can I make a change?  How can I get involved and fight and campaign?  To be sure, if I were well, I would be out there, doing everything I could to make a difference.  Instead I feel like my arms are tied behind my back, my feet tied together and my mouth gagged: I feel silenced and made invisible by my illness.

So where next?  I am at a loss.  I am trying to keep an eternal perspective, trying to pray, trying to find hope in God, but the present feels so overwhelming.

I may head back to the Psalms, it feels like a time for lament.

More on change

So it's been over a month and I have managed to miss last month's book, though it could be rather dull, I have mostly read technical booklets lately, on thrilling subjects like how to work the oven or what insurance covers.  But I thought an update was long overdue.

I am finally living in my new house, after a long period of doing things and sorting out, it is not totally sorted yet, some of my furniture has yet to arrive and the books have yet to make the big move.  Although I never thought I'd manage to pack them all up, took nearly 40 boxes in the end.  There have been hiccoughs like the heating breaking down twice and rodent related issues I wish I did not have to deal with, let us just say that Rentokil are expensive but lovely.

All the work involved has been horribly hard on my health, ME, fibromyalgia and moving house do not mix well at all, I have been more tired and sore than in ages lately.  Emotionally it is weird too, I am not some who deals well with change: last time Waitrose moved stock around I nearly had a panic attack.  So a major life change like moving out on your own is good, but also feels odd, weird, strange and scary.  There simply is no turning back and going home and being the same, I cannot let myself and there were lots of reasons I needed to be out, but staying means being brave again and again and again.  Of course there have been happy times I have enjoyed, being able to welcome a friend to my place for the first time, exploring a new area (fantastic greengrocer up the road), being able to shut the door on the world, meeting a friendly local cat who insisted on exploring the house for himself.  There are things I am looking forward to like planting the garden or having friends over for dinner for the first time.  But there are also times when I start at every noise (not helped by aforementioned rodents) or wonder, "what next?" and "what am I doing here?".

Throughout the long process of finding, buying and moving in I have been praying about this move, there have been a lot of questions about whether this is right and am I doing the right thing?  And prayers that I would use this house to God's glory, to bring his kingdom here, to make people feel welcome and bless others.  Even now I am having doubts about the whole thing: leaving the familiar, even uncomfortable familiarity, is unbelievably hard.  I feel so shook up and strange, sometimes I look around and wonder what I am doing here and when the real owner is going to come home.  On top of this I am beyond exhausted and having to take a couple of days' off to recuperate.  Yet other people are so excited for me, which is lovely, but makes it hard to articulate how I feel at times.  In a way it seems ungrateful: this should be fantastic, instead I feel all mixed up inside.

I am trying to pray, to lean on God, to let him be my stability in rapidly changing times, prayer can be such a challenge sometimes.  He brought me through to here, he will keep being with me, I know he will, even though I feel a bit lost now.  The best way forward I suppose is to try keep praying and to take each day at a time and if that seems too long, take each moment at a time.  It will get easier, right?

Merry Christmas!

Wishing you a very Merry Christmas full of hope and joy.  I feel this poem sums up some of the majesty and mystery of Christmas and forms a counterpoint to the delights of turkey, tinsel and trimmings; it reminds us why we are celebrating.  I love the last lines, they are a reminder that God has intervened and brought His kingdom into our world, the curtain between the two has been torn and the new time has already begun.  Rejoice!

BC:AD

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect.
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

U A Fanthorpe

Fourth Sunday in Advent

December has been flying by, as it always does, so here is the fourth poem, another serious one, but shorter.  This poem brought me up short, it has overtones of Sleeping Beauty, but a better happy ending.  As Joseph says to his brothers at the end of Genesis, "As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good", I find God's ability to bring good out of bad a great comfort.

The Wicked Fairy at the Manger
by U A Fanthorpe

My gift for the child:
No wife, kids, home;
No money sense. Unemployable.
Friends, yes. But the wrong sort –
The workshy, women, wimps,
Petty infringers of the law, persons
With notifiable diseases,
Poll tax collectors, tarts;
The bottom rung.
His end?
I think we’ll make it
Public, prolonged, painful.

Right, said the baby. That was roughly
What we had in mind.

Third Sunday in Advent

This Sunday I have chosen T S Eliot's Journey of the Magi, a vivid imaging of the long journey from the east.  To me there seems to be a reminder of the Exodus story, leaving one place to follow God and entering that trustful discomfort, looking back with longing, but knowing you have to go on.  There is a spiritual journey taking place alongside the physical journey and the poem leaves us in the "now but not yet" time in which we still live today, with God's kingdom being here, but not fully yet.

There is a recording of Eliot reading his own poem, which is magnificent and well worth a listen, I hope you enjoy it and that your Christmas preparations are going well.

Journey of the Magi
T.S. Eliot

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Than at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different: this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Second Sunday in Advent

I discovered this poem last Christmas, in an Advent book called Haphazard by Starlight, which has a poem for every day of Advent and loved it.  It is another poem that connects the Christmas of long ago with now, but in a very different way, focusing instead on the hope that Christmas gives us.  Hope for the future, that Jesus will return and the hope we have in us now, a hope that cannot be counted in a census or understood by the powers of this world.

In the days of Caesar
By Waldo Williams, translated Rowan Williams

In the days of Caesar, when his subjects went to be reckoned,
there was a poem mad, too dark for him (naive with power)
      to read
It was a bunch of shepherds who discovered
in Bethlehem of Judah, the great music beyond reason and
      reckoning:
shepherds, the sort of folk who leave the ninety-nine behind
so as to bring the stray back home, dawning toward cock-crow,
the birthday of the Lamb of God, shepherd of mortals.

Well, little people, and my nation, can you see
The secret buried in you, that no Caesar ever captures in his lists?
Will not the shepherd come to fetch us in our desert,
Gathering us in to give us birth again, weaving us into one
In a song heard in the sky over Bethlehem?
He seeks us out as wordhoard for his workmanship, the laureate
     of heaven

Christian Community and the Sick

When I first heard about the Community of St Anselm, the new community of prayer being established at Lambeth Palace for people aged 20-35 to “spend a year in God's time”, I was terribly excited and ready to sign up right away. I have been increasingly interested in the ideas around community for some years now and the practises of regular prayer through the day, although I have been less successful always in establishing that discipline at home on my own. It sounds like a fantastic opportunity to grow, learn and experience God. Most of all I thought, “imagine not being lonely for a whole year, not being a Christian alone, being with other Christians”. Being sick, unable to work and coming from a non-Christian family has been intensely lonely, both from a general point of view and from a specifically Christian point of view.

But then reality kicked in, the reality that this community needed energetic people, it was there in the language of discipline, rigour, discomfort and hard work. The reality that someone like me would never keep up for a week, let alone a year. The reality that being around people can be draining. The reality that being chronically ill has made me something of a hermit, unable to be around people, too tired to take part in so many things, not a willing hermit, but one because of circumstance.

My natural reaction to this is to be thoroughly fed up at seeing yet another opportunity go out of my reach, being shut out again because I have no energy to be busy and active, feeling useless yet again. Yet although these feelings are valid and need expressing, it does not have to end here does it? So I cannot be part of this community? It does not mean that I and others like me are shut out of all expressions of community?

I hate to think of there being others out there like me, each isolated from the wider church, feeling outside and being unable to connect with one another. Although things are easier now, I have been through times of intense isolation and still feel too isolated from and out of step with other Christians my own age, and I cannot be the only person in a similar situation? Beginning to read Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together has provided a challenging view of community and I have been especially struck by his view that to live in community with our brothers and sisters in Christ is a privilege.

“So between the death of Christ and the Last Day it is only by a gracious anticipation of the last things that Christians are privileged to live in visible fellowship with other Christians. It is by the grace of God that a congregation is permitted to gather visibly in this world to share God's Word and sacrament. Not all Christians receive this blessing. The imprisoned, the sick, the scattered lonely, the proclaimers of the Gospel in heathen lands stand alone. They know that visible fellowship is a blessing. They remember, as the Psalmist did, how they went 'with the multitude... to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday' (Ps. 42.4). But they remain alone in far countries, a scattered seed according to God's will. Yet what is denied them in actual experience they seize upon more fervently in faith.”

So community is not only a privilege, but also a prophetic way of living that foretells the way things will be on the new earth. However, as we are still being remade and are not yet fully perfected, living out this calling is a tremendous challenge as we need to be able to leave behind our own needs, priorities and concerns in order to love one another and live together in harmony. Do the demands that illness make upon my body leave enough energy and strength for this challenge?

In myself certainly no, but in God's grace and with His help who knows what may be possible, always bearing in mind that as things stand I am not healed. Therefore maybe my challenge is to consider other means of living in a degree of community, looking for a way for people like me, who are shut out because of sickness, to come together for fellowship, be it virtual or visible? Prayer is one of the few things you can still do when you have next to no energy, so there is no reason for the sick to be shut out of Archbishop Justin's call to prayer, but the challenge is to find ways of enjoying the privilege and blessing of praying with others. Paradoxically this illness has been the means by which I have learnt to value prayer and to rely on God in prayer, because I have fewer of my own resources. I have learnt that prayer takes incredible perseverance, some days just concentrating enough is a massive struggle and of course there are days when the prayer is the simple, primeval, “help!” and no more. God is gracious and helps me when I ask Him to help me with prayer and reading the Bible. But being able to come together with other Christians daily for prayer continues to be something I dream about.

It seems, therefore, that I will be sitting out the Community of St Anselm, but perhaps it can prompt me to fresh thinking about community and its different forms? And of course I can pray, for the Community itself, for the wider church and that we can find a way for people like me to take part in a community of fellowship and encouragement, virtual and face to face. I have no idea what form this will take or what it will look like, or even if it will happen, but for now I will keep reading, praying, hoping and waiting on God.

The Year in Books: October

This month's reading has been somewhat theological in nature; Surprised by Scripture by Tom Wright, former Bishop of Durham, has particularly stood out.  It is a collection of essays based on talks he has given, mainly in America and makes an excellent introduction to his theology and thinking.  Wright has placed an emphasis on reading the Bible, especially the New Testament, within its own original context and then attempts to relate the Bible to today.  Consequently he looks at the thinking which has led us to see the Bible in a particular way, especially the Reformation and the 18th century Enlightenment and the "surprise" in the title refers to the difference between what we may think the Bible says on a subject and what it truly says.

Although it may sound like a very heavy read its original lecture format has made it more readable and means that each chapter is relatively short.  Wright takes on the enlightenment thinking, particularly the ideas of Epicureanism - that God created the world and then left it to itself for example - and takes these ideas back to the Bible to show that they have little or no biblical basis.  Throughout he does not shrink from taking on difficult subjects such as politics, the environment and the role of women in the church - a chapter I found very freeing as Wright went back into the biblical text and its original context.

One of the biggest surprises of the book so far for me was the chapter entitled, "Jesus is coming - plant a tree!", about heaven and earth, explaining how God is not going to be rescuing us from this wicked earth and spiriting us away to heaven, but that Jesus is coming again to renew the earth.  Therefore he argues that what we do here and now matters for the future, especially how we treat our planet, which is not all bad, although "subject to futility" (Romans 8.20).  At the centre of this chapter is a fresh look at Romans 8.

Durham Cathedral

I cannot recommend this book enough, indeed I have been going around telling everyone to read it!  It is not the quickest read, but worth going through and giving consideration.  Should you wish to try one or two of the chapters before committing to buying chapter six, "9/11, Tsunamis and the New Problem of Evil", is available here, more articles by Tom Wright are available here and there is an interesting interview with Tom Wright here.  Get reading, stretch your brain and be surprised!

You can see the other entries in this month's Year in Books here

The Year in Books: July

Again, scraping in close to the wire, partly this month because for most of the month there was no one book that grabbed me and that I felt I had to write about.  That is not to say there have not been some good books, such as Janet Frame's first collection of short stories, an anthology of comic stories, H G Wells' engaging but slightly strange book Marriage or the ever delightful Psmith.  Instead I have decided on a book I am only half way through: God on Mute: Engaging in the Silence of Unanswered Prayer by Pete Grieg, recommended to me by a friend as I have struggled with prayer for quite a time now.  I often struggle to want to pray and I find myself worrying about prayer, particularly in light of all the terrible things happening around the world.  Or I end up feeling that as prayer is one of the few things I can do, I ought to be doing it more or "trying harder".

God on Mute is a book about faith, about prayer, specifically grappling with unanswered prayer and why our prayers might not be answered.  Pete Grieg set up the 24/7 Prayer network and in his own life has had serious struggles and unanswered prayers meaning he writes with power and from personal experience.  Pete Grieg combines this personal material with solid theology, presented in an accessible way and structured loosely around the narrative of Maundy Thursday to Resurrection Sunday.  Some of what it has to say is not necessarily what we want to hear about prayer and about God, but it is what we need to hear.

I cannot fully write about this book or do it justice: God on Mute is honest, godly, transformative.  I am only part way through the book but already feel freer, less worried, with an increased understanding of prayer, how wrestling with prayer can draw us closer to God.  How suffering does not mean we have done something wrong, but that suffering and persisting in prayer through the hard times can draw us closer to God.  It is so refreshing to read a modern Christian writer affirm that life is hard, but God is good.  The world is broken, life is hard, but that is not the end of the story: God is with us, Jesus died and was buried and rose again so that one day things can be different, the battle may rage around us, but the war, ultimately is won.

If you want a taster of Pete Grieg's teaching on unanswered prayer he has recently done a sermon on the subject at his church, which is well worth a listen (also available as a podcast).  Then go and buy a copy of the book, I am thinking of buying at least one more copy so I can start lending it round.

To see the rest of the year in books entries for July click here

Easter hope

I have not had that much to say lately, I have been going through a bit of a bad patch and been really down at times.  Together with horrible panic attacks at night and the lack of sleep that follows from that, life has not felt like much fun.  I have struggled with my faith too, it is not that I do not believe, not that at all, I still believe in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit and the Bible, that it is all true.  But more I have been struggling with me in relation to God, struggling to see past the bad in me, struggling to cope with myself and my inadequacy and why God would ever want anything to do with me.  Struggling with grace I suppose, again.

So Easter has been a precious reminder of what Jesus has done for us, that He has taken our sin and takes it afresh every day, so that we can go to the Father.  Today I feel a renewal of hope because Jesus has died for us and has risen and stone is rolled away and the tomb is empty and so everything is possible.  I will still make mistakes today and tomorrow and the day after, I am not perfect in myself and never can be, but through Christ, in God's eyes I am and I am loved and accepted.  How to take in this truth, to understand it and live out that truth?

A couple of songs have been helping me along this path, one is from an album reviewed on a university friend's blog, by a band called Page CXVI and is called Roll Away the Stone, I love the chorus:

Roll away roll away the stone!
Where he lay, where he lays no more
Risen and victorious radiant and glorious
He rose amen He broke the chains of sin

And Boldly I Approach by Rend Collective, a meditation on Hebrews 4.16: "Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."



I hope they help you enjoy God's grace anew this Easter.  Life has been hard, it will be hard again, but we all need a reminder of the truth to show us that this is not all, that there is a hope to come.  It is a relief to be able to remember God's grace despite not having been able to go to church as I would love to do and amid all the other frustrations of my life.  I do not know what is next or where I should be going but for now I will try to rest with God and remember that the Easter message, "That there is now no condemnation for those who are in Jesus Christ."

Sunset on Good Friday

The Art of Celebration

Last Monday my favourite band, Rend Collective, released their latest album, titled The Art of Celebration and I have been listening to it all week.  The songs have an energy and life to them and contain many truths and promises.  The premise of the album is that God is always worth celebrating, no matter what the circumstances of our lives and sets the tone by opening:

We’re choosing celebration
Breaking into Freedom
You’re the song...
Of our hearts

This song, Joy, is one of my favourites on the album, the lines "The pain will not define us/Joy will reignite us" have been resonating with me, so often I feel like my identity is being subsumed by illness.  There is an interesting dance remix of this song at the end of the album, while dance music isn't usually my scene, it can work for worship music and it mixes well with rhythms of Irish origin often used by Rend Collective.

The band have talked about not liking being pigeon-holed as a "folk" band and have tried to diversify for this album, but I would say to them not to worry about it, their original philosophy of making music that anyone could get involved in is great, stick with that philosophy.  It is much closer to historical church music than the "traditional" organ and choir music, which originated in the nineteenth century when village music groups were banished from churches in favour of organs.  Let's put worship back into the hands of the people and have inclusive music that has its roots in the past but has freshness for today.

I am terrible at celebrating, terrible at seeing and remembering the good in life and in God; it sometimes feels like my brain is fixated on the bad, the evil, my sin, endless darkness.  But the Bible is packed with people celebrating God, Paul and Silas singing their hymns in prison in Acts 16 particularly come to mind and I hope this album can help me to learn more about always celebrating Jesus and what He has done and is going to do.  Despite the name the songs do acknowledge the hard side of life, it is not mindless "everything is wonderful" stuff, but about the conscious choice to celebrate.  Darkness, deserts, pain, doubts, questions, sorrows, shadows are all allowed in and acknowledged, but placed in their proper perspective of God's grace and goodness and mercy and light.

There's so much I love about this album, I will admit to not being the most moderate or measured reviewer (though honestly I am not in their pay and I bought my copy!), it has brightened up a dull week and has a message I badly need.  Have a listen - in their generosity the band have put the lyric videos on youtube - see what you think, buy a copy, celebrate.

By your power I can change, I can change
‘Cos you’re not finished with me yet 

This is the art of celebration
Knowing were free from condemnation
Oh praise the One, praise the One 

Christmas

When I was a child December seemed to stretch forever, day after day, marked out in little cardboard doors, tantalisingly keeping me from the apex of the excitement, the best day of the year: Christmas Day.  The air seemed almost to sparkle, there were endless excitements, carol concerts, plays, parties and treats, baking, decorations, pantomimes, a sense of goodwill seemed to pervade.  There were the yearly rituals, watching the Blue Peter team lighting the advent candles, helping to decorate the tree, going to the church to watch the familiar story acted out.  Then my one night of the year of excited insomnia before the Big Day with all its stockings and presents and turkey and crackers.

But Christmas now, where has the magic gone?  Now December seems a different sort of time-warp, the days falling over themselves in their rush to get away before Christmas looms.  Days full of lists of presents to be bought, cards to be sent, jobs to be done.  The reality of the work behind the sparkle hitting home.



Now instead there are small, quiet compensations for the onset of age, the satisfaction of choosing just the right present, the happiness of cards sent and appreciated, meeting old friends in the box of decorations, the heady spiced whiff of mixing Christmas cakes and puddings. While that feeling of Christmas joy and magic is more fleeting, glimpsed occasionally in a child's face or conjured up from turning on the Christmas lights at dusk and watching them make the glitter come to life in a quiet twinkling glow.  Light coming into the darkness.

Light coming into the darkness, that's what it is about in the end, hope coming into the world as the nights draw in.  Trying to find time, amidst the lists, to remember the first Christmas in all its ragged perfection.



Since I started this meditation a few days ago the weight of expectation and waiting has increased, I have slowed down (responding to the aide memoire of a two week headache) and the days seem to have joined me.  I am grateful for the slowing of the days and for the time to think, if not for the illness that creates this time.  The wind whistles and howls around the house with occasional breaks for glorious mild sunshiny winter days and a feeling of Christmastime has crept into the house on the heels of gingerbread and carols.  At the same time I have remembered some of the reality behind those painfully exciting childhood Christmasses, such as the year I slept so little on Christmas Eve that I was tearfully exhausted by seven and wasted precious hours of Christmas day in an early bedtime.  Christmases pile up memory and experience in layers, each bringing a part of themselves to each new Christmas; while my understanding grows and changes, of what Christmas meant and means.  I go again to the child in the manger and the light come into the world, and begin to ponder the Christ who will come again and the double waiting of Advent.

Charles Wesley's hymn Come Thou Long Expected Jesus is a current favourite, I especially love this version by a band called Kings Kaleidoscope

Come thou long expected Jesus
Born to set thy people free
From our fears and sins release us
Let us find our rest in thee 

Israel’s strength and consolation
Hope of all the earth thou art
Dear desire of every nation
Joy of every longing heart 

Born thy people to deliver
Born a child and yet a king
Born to reign forever
Now thy gracious kingdom bring  

By thine own eternal spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone
By thine all sufficient merit
Raise us to thy glorious throne 

Come Lord Jesus, into this dark world, bring your light, your presence and your kingdom. Thank you for Christmas, in all its meanings, Amen

God of Contradictions

Something I wrote a week or two ago and have just polished up, mostly by getting the verses into order.  I suppose it is a Psalm?  Nothing on David's level though.

God of Contradictions

The God who made the earth the skies and sea
And allows us to trash them

The God who made man and woman in His own image
And allowed us to sin and break His heart

The God of beauty and perfection
Who allows ugliness and imperfection to reign

The God of justice, friend of the poor,
Who allows injustice and poverty to flourish

The God who is the prince of peace
And yet allows wars and rumours of wars

The God who sent His son
to save us in human form
And allowed us to beat and kill Him

The God who heals,
who makes the lame walk and the blind to see
And allows children to get sick and die

The God who is holy and perfect
And allows sinners to join Him at His table

The God of all joy
Who allows unimaginable sorrow

The God who collects our tears in a jar
And allows us to go on and on filling the jar

The God who hears our prayers
And so often allows silence to answer them

The God who rose again
And allows us to share in His hope

The God of contradictions
whom we so little understand
One day will you allow us to see as you see?
Will you seem so contradictory then?

The God who will soon return
And allows soon to feel like forever

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”  1 Corinthians 13.12

Speaking out

For a while now I have been praying that as a church we would be more vocal and speak up for the poor and the dispossessed and those without anyone to speak up for them and now we seem to have a church leader who is doing just that.  The new Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, seems determined not to keep quiet and to say when something is wrong, to call something exactly what it is, even if it causes him subsequent embarrassment. As a consequence both the media and ordinary people seem to have taken some notice of the church and what it is doing and its purpose for the first time in ages and in the main it is a positive response.

Generally on this blog I do try not to be political because this is not a political blog and because I find politics so extremely stressful and hard to cope with, however, I thought this was worth a mention.  We may be living through difficult and nasty times for many, but perhaps it is also an opportunity for the church to get up and speak out for people and to show care and concern for people in need and by doing so to demonstrate Jesus's love.

Archbishop Justin (calling him that does sound most familiar, I'm sure they would have had none of it in good old Barchester), spoke recently at one of those Christian Glastonbury's, New Wine and his talk is on his website and I cannot recommend it enough.  It is an excellent use for a half hour and it left me feeling inspired and encouraged and challenged all at once.


(picture from Lambeth Palace's flickr account)

I shall continue to pray for the church and for our new Archbishop, that we could be real and relevant and bring love and hope to this country and to the world.  Let us set out, one prayer at a time.

He has told you, O man, what is good;
    and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
    and to walk humbly with your God?  Micah 6.8 

P.S. If you want to hear some more of what the Archbishop has to say this video interview is also very interesting, though quite why anyone thought they needed dry ice behind them is beyond me!

On fear

Although I have heard the promises such as “if our God is for us, who can be against us” and others of its ilk, I still find the world a terrifying place.  I feel plagued by fear, surrounded by it, caught up in it.  The thought of the long-term future fills me with such panic, of course we do not know what will happen, but sometimes we need to take decisions or do some sort of planning for the future and I find it almost unbearable.

I have improved over time, I can now think beyond the next minute, beyond the next hour, beyond the next week, sometimes even beyond the next month or months without being gripped by terror, slowly I have regained the future.  But I still feel as though I am surviving, not living and at present I am wrestling with how to live, how my future should look, what I should do with what I have and what I do not have.  It is an unsettling process, stirring me up inside, a hard process after such a long time of simply not wanting to be alive.  I am trying to accept life.

The worst thing about the fear is the feeling that I have failed God, my loving Father, He has said time and time again “Do not fear, do not be afraid”, and yet... somehow I cannot trust Him.  I feel ashamed and hate my lack of trust and faith, my failure to obey, to believe that He is sovereign and knows my future (Psalm 139) and that He will never leave me (Hebrews 13).

In the light of this failure I find the prayer in Mark 9.24 a help and a heart's cry, “I believe; help my unbelief!”.  God is gracious and there have been times in the middle of the terror and panic when He has been so close and has calmed me, at least my fear keeps me coming to Him for help.

Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.  Forgive my lack of trust and help my trust in you to grow as I come to you in the storms.  Be with me, strengthen my feeble knees and weak hands, be with me in the fear and help me to overcome.  Be with those who also fear.  Amen

"Jesus said... “Do not fear, only believe,” Mark 5.36

Musical Interlude

Following various recent conversations with friends I have realised that by listening almost exclusively to Christian music, as it helps my mental health, I have gained knowledge about bands that others have not heard of, so I thought I would write a few blog posts about some of my favourite bands or musicians.

And so we start with the band who came to mind immediately when thinking about this and the band to whom I have recently introduced various people from my church: Rend Collective Experiment.

They are a band from Northern Ireland whose music is largely folk inspired, but who use a wide range of instruments and styles for their songs.  They have a refreshing originality and energy and get away from the "cheesy" reputation that so often haunts Christian music.  In their music there is a real mixture of tempos and volumes, traditional hymns and original songs, around the theme of discipleship and church.  As they themselves acknowledge, folk music is accessible, anyone can join in by tapping their foot or singing along or clapping their hands and that makes it brilliant music for the church, and an echo of the church being an inclusive place that anyone can join.  But they put it better themselves:



I discovered them on Spotify and have loved their music ever since the first few chords of the first song of their first album, Come on my Soul, it is a simple song, calling us to worship, reminding us to look up from ourselves to Jesus and God our Father.  I love the video they made for this song too, the gathering of the church around the light.



Meanwhile the song that has become their anthem is Build Your Kingdom Here.  It is the most phenomenal prayer and a bold vision and I pray it regularly as I walk through my local town centre.  The chorus speaks for itself:

Build your kingdom here
Let the darkness fear
Show your mighty hand
Heal our streets and land
Set your church on fire
Win this nation back
Change the atmosphere
Build your kingdom here
We pray

They have so many other awesome songs, including a fantastic, intimate version of Love Divine All Loves Excelling and Second Chance, a song which gives me so much hope when I fail.  I admit that their albums are generally on my ipod on repeat and I never tire of them.  Go have a listen and may God use this music to bless you.

Trust

On days when it is fine enough one of my greatest pleasures is sitting out in the garden.  Over time I have found that if I am quiet and relatively still the birds who frequent the garden gradually begin to trust that I will not hurt them and start to come closer.  It will begin with a rustle in a tree or perhaps in the holly bush just to the left of the bench.  There are little twitterings, whispers and clicking sounds as they consider me and wonder if it is safe to venture to the seed feeders.  Then one adventurous soul, generally one of the robins - they are the boldest of our garden birds - will break cover for a moment, grab a piece of seed and retire with it.



The robin often loves company and will come to see what I am doing, there will be scufflings in the holly bush and a beady eye will peak out and sing softly.  Of course his favourite time of all is when my father is out gardening, he and his partner have spent entire afternoons following him around within inches, sometimes getting perilously close to the spade or fork as my father digs.  Over time I have learned to tell the two robins apart by their behaviour, for example the less bold of them hovers close to things rather than land and this robin also likes to fly across the garden narrowly avoiding my head to announce his or her presence.  Our current robin's new trick is to bring whatever he has found, small grubs, caterpillars and the like to show us, before flying off to eat them or take them to his nestlings.

The day before yesterday one of the robin even had a bath while I was standing a couple of feet away, a sign of trust that brought me such joy.  Indeed it has struck me that perhaps this is how God feels about us when we trust Him?  When we dare to approach, or show Him something we have done or just come to see what He is doing, does He feel that same joy? Is my joy at the robin's trust and company a small echo of what happens in God's heart when we come to Him and trust Him?  I do hope so.  Certainly it makes me more determined than ever to try to trust God more and to keep coming to my Father.

52 Weeks of Happy - week 13

It has been yet another marathon week filled mainly with a heady mix of toothache and anxiety.  All in all this has been a horrible month and I shall be glad to see the back of it, maybe April will be better?

1. Good Friday - Jesus Christ died to set us free, the best good news ever.

2. Tulips - beautiful Easter flowers from a friend



3. The Girl in Blue - by P.G. Wodehouse, my new audiobook, a delightfully complicated confection involving  a large cast of improbable characters and read by Graham Seed, aka. ex-Nigel from The Archers.  It's so lovely hearing his voice again.  I find audiobooks a great accompaniment to knitting and a good one can draw you in completely.  It is not just the quality of the book that matters but also the reader.  As someone who has listened to a great many P. G. Wodehouse audiobooks I can recommend those read by Jonathan Cecil and Martin Jarvis (who has done the world a great service by his readings of the Just William stories).



4. Isaiah 41.10 - a verse I found in a list on the Desiring God blog, just when I needed it to help me with dentist related anxiety.

fear not, for I am with you;
    be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

So rich in promises and just exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.  God is good at that and I do tend to find that I need reminding of His promises, I am hopeless at remembering on my own.  The original blog post is well worth reading - Nine Reasons Why You Can Face Anything

Facing failure

Some days, some weeks even, I feel like a failure: an utter, miserable, lowest of the low, out and out failure.  Now is one of those times.  Life seems dismal, I feel frustrated by my own ability to make the same mistakes again and again and I feel stuck.  Prayer is hard, a fight and a battle, to focus, to find the words, even sitting quietly before God is a challenge.  I find myself not wanting to pray, which is a feeling I hate.  I hate that I do not want to spend time with God and hate how that must make Him feel.  The world seems like a bleak place and change seems impossible.

I am trying to persevere, as the Bible urges us to again and again, but it feels so hard and yet in saying that I feel like such a wimp.  Surely I knew before I began that following Jesus was hard?  He warns of it, "Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me." (Matthew 10) and "In this world you will have trouble." (John 16).  So why do I moan and whine and protest when things are hard?

I find it so hard to put aside my pride and admit that I cannot do this on my own, to accept my own inadequacy and that ultimately I cannot save myself.  It is at this point that I turn again to Jesus, to the cross, to give in to grace, something so simple, yet so hard.

But I still admit that I cannot yet rejoice in trials and sufferings, although I can overall see the good that has been coming out of the hard times.  Sometimes the hard times are when I am closest to God, but the hardest hard times are when I find it hard to approach God and when my sense of failure becomes overwhelming.

Father help me to persevere.
Forgive me my failings.
Thank you for the cross.
Help me.
Help me to find strength in my weakness.

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12) 

Time to look up

When you cannot sleep for at least two hours after going to bed
And then wake up over an hour early,
After bad sleep, so tense you are almost rigid
And then a concrete cutter starts up in the street outside

When you feel worse than usual
And life seems bleak, painful and pointless
Problems overwhelming
The past haunting and shifting

When you want to cry but you cannot

Then it's time to look up; I am so glad of music, of the reminder to turn again to God, who does not shift or change, in whom there are no shadows, who understands and cares, who listens and grants peace, who is all powerful, strong and loving.

Then for a while I can focus on the truth and on how loved I am and how one day all things will be new, no tears, no pain, then everything falls back into its proper perspective.

Then I am so glad that I put the worship CD in the kitchen yesterday, so it was there when I needed it most, when the music broke the blow as the newspaper headlines hit.

Thank you Father, help me not to lose your perspective and your love.

This is a simple song, but it never fails to remind me of what matters.

Come on my soul... let down the walls... it's time to look up.