Hearing the whole story

It's a long time since I included in my Blog any of the articles I wrote for Reality magazine (no longer in publication). They were later published in a small book called On the Journey. But today in tidying out a cupboard I came across it again and it fell open at this article. I wrote it in 1994! But it is just as true today - for me personally, and by extension,  for the mixed up world we live in. So if you've got time for a five minute read, grab a coffee and here it is:

  

HEARING THE WHOLE STORY

Almost every day I have the privilege of listening to some part of the life story of one or more unique

individuals. Most often only small segments of the story are told at one time. Perhaps, if there are many conversations, the pieces start to fit together and a bigger picture begins to appear. Occasionally the whole of a life story (to date!) is told all at once. I listened to a story like that yesterday and it's got me thinking.

As the listener, I was awed by the artistry of divine design as God brought together unlikely threads to weave this person's life pattern. I could see some clear, strong, consistent bands of colour. I felt confident and excited about how the pattern would continue to be woven.

Yet the person who was in the midst of living the story felt only confusion, helplessness and despair.

This is not unusual, but what is going on here? Why do we find it so hard to believe that the story of our own lives has a pattern and a plot that is exciting, beautiful and well within the caring control of God? Why is it easier to believe this (and see it) in the lives of others?

Perhaps we lack the capacity to stand back far enough from the chapter of the story we are currently living. Perhaps from the ground level of our 'now' experiences we lose sight of the undulating peaks and valleys which make for a beautiful landscape. Perhaps in the valleys or on the flatlands we fear that even God might have lost the map!

Many Biblical characters might have felt the same way. Abraham and Sarah for example. Promises of many descendants seemed hollow mockery year after year. Who could blame them for trying to "make the promise come true" in their own way? Or think of Joseph. If anyone had a right to confusion, helplessness and despair, he did! Everything seemed to go wrong for Joseph from teenage years onwards. Family jealousy and rejection, slavery, false accusations of sexual harassment, imprisonment...surely God has lost the map this time! Even Mary, Jesus' own mother, could have been forgiven for thinking something was radically amiss when she saw this special God-given son being misunderstood, maligned, and finally lynched and murdered.

When we read these stories we do so from the perspective of the whole. We know how the parts fit together and how God is demonstrating the ability to bring it all to an exciting and often extraordinary conclusion.

While we are living our own stories we don't have that advantage ...except by faith. Part of growing that faith, it seems to me, is listening to story after story of how God does it again and again. Biblical stories, biographical stories and the in-process stories of our brothers and sisters can all contribute to our confidence.

Our faith is built too when someone listens to our story and, from their more objective position, tells us what they see. In the third year Spiritual Formation class at BCNZ we do just that. [Remember this was written when I was teaching at BCNZ] We listen with respect, ask questions to draw out more, and pray for the teller of the story. As we do so, themes emerge and insights are gained that strengthen the faith and sense of direction of the storyteller. A formal group setting is not necessary, however. We can offer one another a mutual ministry of faith building as we listen to each other's stories in many informal settings.

Bit by bit we may be able to believe that in our own lives, no matter how painful or confusing, God is writing a story. 

I learn so much from the people I listen to. I'm learning not to jump to conclusions on the basis of one or two chapters of a life story. I'm learning that the pattern of God will be there to be discovered if I'm patient enough. I'm learning to listen in faith for what might be the whole story, even if some of it is yet to be written.

 

Walking backwards off the edge!

(I'm doing a bit of an archaeological dig into articles and poetry written years ago. Somehow this article seemed to fit with the White Water Rafting of the previous post!)

Walking backwards off the edge!

I must be very careful of the illustrations I use when leading a retreat! Recently I talked about abseiling as an picture of trust and surrender. I was quoting from Parker Palmer whose own experience of abseiling had been a salutary lesson in faith. It was a great illustration - written with humour, yet taking seriously the spiritual challenge embedded in the physical experience.

I suppose I should have guessed that someone would ask me if I'd ever tried it myself! "Well, no actually, I haven't. I watch other people abseiling quite often though - almost every day I walk past a recreation centre where they teach outdoor pusuits. So I can see how safe it is and it looks like fun!" Having put it like that I could hardly back out when my friend admitted it hadn't felt like fun the one time she'd tried it and asked me to go with her to have another try - this time as a conscious expression of trust. So with a slightly sinking feeling I agreed.

Part of me hoped she would just forget about it. After all learning vicariously from someone else's experience is good enough isn't it? Alas, she was serious! A few weeks later we were booked in to actually do it!

Our instructor was great. He found out about us and our past experience - one with a bad experience and one with none! He talked us through every detail of the harness, the ropes, the helmet, the safety rope he would hold and the way to walk backwards off the edge! The only thing left was to do it. His final word was: "Trust the equipment. It will hold you. If you slip, or even just want to pause on the way down I will hold you steady with the safety rope. Trust me!"  We assured him that trust was exactly the name of the game!

And so I walked backwards off the edge  (yes, that is me in the photo!) - leaning out into the harness, letting out the rope at my own pace and looking up at the instructor calling out encouraging words! It was a challenge - especially that first step over the edge. But the equipment and the intsructor were trustworthy and once I knew that from experience it was fun! We had two descents each and left feeling both exhilarated and thoughtful.

Walking backwards off the edge is a crazy thing to do without the right equipment and a competent instructor. When both are there, however, it may be the best way down to a new level of faith. The Christian pathway isn't always through green pastures and beside still waters. Often enough it  leads to apparently insurmountable cliffs and crevasses that seem to disappear into an abyss. We are used to walking forwards seeing the next step and choosing it carefully. Walking backwards goes against our strong desire to stay in control. What's more we are used to walking on the horizontal plane. "I'm not designed for vertical descent," we gasp, as life tips us totally out of our comfort zone. Walking backwards off the edge disorients us. It gives us a stark choice: Trust and descend safely to a new level of being or stay in control  on the familiar flat land.

The faith equipment that will hold us needs to be carefully put on piece by piece before we reach the top of the cliff so that at that "first step over the edge" moment we have confidence in what we are leaning into. Walking backwards means our eyes are free to watch the Instructor who encourages every trusting step and promises to hold us steady even if we slip. Faith is a challenge - and the exhilaration of surrendering to it cannot be felt vicariously. 

While we were abseiling on one part of the wall a group of young children were going down alongside us and we were told that earlier in the day people in wheelchairs had been enabled to abseil too!  Trusting, like abseiling, is not reserved for the mature or the strong. Trusting is about leaning back and knowing you will be held. Sometimes children and the disabled  know more about this than most of us!

(PS In case you are wondering: no I haven't been bungy jumping and I have definitely decided never to use it as an illustration!)

The Butterfly Experience

A guest staying with me recently saw this beautiful quilt hanging on the wall and said she remembered reading an article I had written many years ago about "the butterfly experience". So I thought I'd re-publish it here along with a photo of the quilt made for me by Marion Robinson.


                                   **************

I was given a most unusual gift this Easter. It came in a small plywood box. On the lid was a label: "The Butterfly Experience". I gently slid the lid open and there, nestled on spaghnum moss, was a monarch butterfly chrysalis!

The friend who gave me the gift had been given a chrysalis herself a week earlier and hers was further along on its transformative journey. We hung them both on a pot plant in the house where we were making our Easter Retreat. Each day we looked carefully to note any changes. By Easter Saturday the more mature chrysalis was darkening. We could see the red wing colour and the black body through the capsule.

Resurrection day dawned. Still the chrysalis was intact. Perhaps it was too much to hope that the butterfly might emerge today!  But wonderfully, that afternoon as we sat reflecting together on the meaning of Easter, the chrysalis split! It happened silently and quickly. If it hadn't been right in front of us we would have missed it. We sat awed at the wonder of new, beautiful life being born from a tiny enclosed case. The wings at first looked too small and almost deformed. I wondered if something was wrong. Surely this butterfly would never fly? We watched and waited. Over the next hour the wings gradually unfolded. The butterfly was in no hurry. It allowed the transforming process to be completed at its own pace. Soon the wings were full size. Now it was time to let them dry and to test their movement. A tentative opening and closing began, with long rests in between. We wanted to see the butterfly take its first flight but our retreat was over and we had to leave. We left the newly resurrected "caterpillar-turned-butterfly" on a sheltered plant in the garden and drove away.

My own chrysalis came home with me in its mossy box. It was a wonderful gift because for some time the chrysalis has been a powerful symbol for me of spiritual process. There come times when it feels as if the way life used to be (as a caterpillar!) has disappeared. It is dark, confined and mysterious in the chrysalis. There seems to be no movement, no externally observable "progress". We just hang there. There is nothing to do but stay still and trust. Staying still and trusting might sound easy to the uninitiated! But anyone who has entered a chrysalis stage of spiritual transformation will know it is not. It challenges all our notions of independence. We either surrender to the process - or we stay as we are. (Apparently some caterpillars choose not form a chrysalis until a year later than their contemporaries.)

Transformation always involves leaving behind the way things were.  But being drawn away from the familiar into a confined space where the future is unknown is usually frightening. It was so even for Jesus. He agonised over the journey to the cross. "Isn't there some other way?" he pleaded. Yet he allowed death to take him into cocoon of the tomb. What if he hadn't? What if he had not followed through on his mission? We can scarcely even imagine the alternative. But perhaps there come times when we are invited to transformation and we balk at entering the chrysalis. It feels like death. How can I let go the old familar ways? How can I be sure this will lead to something better?  Probably the answer to the latter question is: "You can't! Surrender. Stay still. Trust."

"The butterfly experience" is the Easter experience! Transformation is at the heart of God's purposes. Jesus demonstrated and accomplished the biggest transformation of all. God has built visual aids of the transformation process throughout creation - seeds buried  become flowers, caterpillars cocooned become butterflies. Humans are not exempt from the mystery, awe and joy of the same process. We are led to let go, to surrender, to stay still in the darkness of cocooned stages and to trust.

Today, a week after Easter, my cocoon hatched! I was at home most of the day and I sat with the newly emerged butterfly for several hours. I so much wanted to see it take its first flight. I had to go out for a meeting and as soon as I got back I rushed to the plant on my porch where I had left it resting. At the very moment I arrived it climbed to the top of the plant and took off with a few shaky wing flaps to a nearby tree! I gasped aloud with thankfulness and wonder. Whatever the cynics might say, I do not think the timing was just coincidence. I think God smiled on me and let the butterfly reassure me that transformation does lead to the ability to fly - even if shakily at first.

Strong at the Broken Places

(First published in Reality. Re-reading this today in the face of many people close to me suffering, as well as millions of others world-wide, I stand by what I wrote 15+ years ago and find these perspectives personally helpful - having long since forgotten what I wrote back then!)

I've been thinking about pain and suffering quite a bit lately. 

CS Lewis's famous book on the subject is called The Problem of Pain. Why are pain and suffering a problem? Silly question? I don't think so. The answers we give to it are revealing. (If you can resist reading on, stop and give your own answer first).

Generally I think there are three main reasons why suffering is a problem:

         *Suffering is a problem because we can't understand how a God who is loving and powerful could let it happen. (The WHY question).

         *Suffering is a problem because it hurts; it disrupts life and we don't know how to cope. (The HOW question).

         *Suffering is a problem because it seems so pointless. If we could see a constructive purpose it wouldn't be so bad. (The WHAT FOR question).

Now the last thing I want to do with a subject as complex as this is to sound simplistic. There are no pat answers for anyone in the midst of the dark valley of physical, emotional or relational pain. One of things I find hardest myself is the sheer helplessness I feel as I sit with someone who is suffering and know that I can't make it better.

Yet as I consider the three problems above I can't help wondering whether suffering brings us face to face with the very essence of Christian faith. The Apostle Paul said that ultimately there are only three things that abide: faith, hope and love.[i] We need them all to come through suffering constructively.

The WHY Question and Faith.

Why does a loving God allow such awful suffering to happen? Theologians for centuries have grappled with this one! Some of their reasoning is helpful. Some of it makes a person in pain want to scream! In the end I don't think the question can be answered by logic, only by faith.

We can't possibly understand all the interrelated dynamics of God's sovereignty, human choices, a fallen world and the suffering of innocent people. Most of the questions we ask about all of this are the wrong ones I suspect! But what we do know is that God is loving. That non-negotiable fact is what we are called upon to trust no matter what we may be feeling.

A nine year old friend of mine provides a human analogy. He recently had his tonsils out. When he discovered after the operation how painful it was and how sick he felt, he was very very angry with his parents for "making me have this operation". He could not logically understand why it had to be this way. He was free to be angry. But he did not reject his parents and their love! In fact he relied on the constancy of their care in the midst of his pain and anger. His trust in them at the very time he could not understand why, was crucial.

Our faith in the nature of God is revealed when we face the agonising 'why' questions. If we can say (even through gritted teeth) "I don't understand it but I trust you" we are on solid ground.

The HOW Question and Love.

A person in the midst of suffering doesn't usually want theological arguments so much as the loving companionship of friends. Sheila Cassidy's excellent book Sharing the Darkness depicts this beautifully in a series of illustrations showing first a professional in the uniform of a "helper", next the same person in ordinary garb just like the sufferer and finally both sufferer and "helper" naked and vulnerable to the pain.

Dealing with the pain and disruption that suffering brings is made more manageable by the knowledge that we are loved and companioned in the midst of it. Usually we want and need the tangible love of other people who will, as Cassidy suggests, be vulnerable with us. But with or without this human support we desperately need to know the love of God. And tragically, so often this is the time when God is seen as the enemy, the heartless bystander. Yet all the time God weeps with us. Stripped and broken, hanging alongside us on the cross, Jesus is, as Peter Kreeft puts it, "the tears of God".[ii]

I know of nothing more important to communicate to a person in pain than this: Jesus suffers with you because he loves you. Everyone who has loved someone will know that when a loved one suffers your own heart is torn. God's heart is no less tender.

Antionette Bosco relates how she realised that the HOW question was more significant than the WHY question when a wise person said to her: "The question you must ask is, 'How do I come to find peace out of my pain?' ... You can only do this by walking into your grief and accepting the mystery knowing that He is with you."[iii]

The WHAT FOR Question and Hope.

That last quote ushers in the third question. Is there any purpose in all this? What is it for? If we are to walk right into the depths of our pain and accept it, we need to have some hope that it makes sense to do so. Human beings can survive a great deal if they have hope, as numerous stories from the holocaust remind us.

What hope can we cling to when suffering seems impossible to understand and our limits of coping seem to have been reached? I suggest that it is the ultimate hope of the great gospel principle that after death comes resurrection.

I am not primarily talking about physical death, though the principle certainly holds true there.  No, rather I mean the constant discovery of the life-death-resurrection principle in all the numerous "little deaths" (and sometimes big ones) that suffering brings.

A wonderful, and very down to earth, friend of mine has suffered a lot in recent years. Recently she said to me: "You know I realise that something in me has died - that old part of me that was always saying 'What about me?''I've had enough' 'I'm not putting up with this any more'. Somehow that's gone and I'm bigger inside. I can't explain it - and I certainly didn't make it happen, but yes, it's as if I am bigger inside. God has carved out a place in me that wasn't there before."

Ernest Hemingway wrote: "Life breaks us all and afterwards many are strong at the broken places."[iv]  A realistic, yet hopeful statement. Suffering sometimes does break us. The breaking is real and agonising. Yet the gospel hope is that by God's grace it is at the very points of brokenness that new life and strength can emerge. Jesus demonstrated it, Paul proved it in his experience[v] and so have countless others through the centuries. The same hope is ours to grasp.

Suffering is a problem for most of us. We don't yet "consider it nothing but joy" along with James.[vi] We find it hard to join Paul in saying we are "content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and calamaties for the sake of Christ".[vii] But we can inch closer to what they hold out to us as we take a firmer grasp of the three things which abide:

         * faith in a God we can trust even when we can't understand;

         * love surrounding us from Jesus who is vulnerable with us;

         * hope that even the most painful "death" carries within it the seeds of resurrection life.

The God who is Love has made such careful provision for even the hardest aspects of our human journey. Supported by such a God we can look forward to becoming strong at the broken places.

---

[i] 1 Cor 13:13

[ii] Peter Kreeft Making Sense Out of Suffering (Servant, 1986)

[iii] Antionette Bosco The Pummeled Heart (23rd Publications, 1994) p 38

[iv] Ernest Hemingway A Farewell to Arms (Scribners, 1987)

[v] 2 Cor 12:10

[vi] James 1:2

[vii] 2 Cor 12:10

When the Tide Goes Out

(Recently someone told me that the article below was particularly significant for her when it was published in Reality many years ago. Clearly it has been remembered. So here it is again - hopefully significant for someone in 2011! The photo was taken this morning on Long Bay beach. I love walking the beach when the tide is out. It's a more expansive place to explore. I wonder if there's a parable in that!)

Do you remember when prayer was exciting, when you couldn't wait to get to your daily quiet time because God spoke so powerfully to you from his word every day? If this is your current experience, you don't need this article right now. I'm writing for those who find themselves having to admit that the tide seems to have gone out in their devotional life.

It does happen you know - even to faithful, mature Christians; maybe even to people who are in the process of discipling others! Bible reading can become boring, prayer seems pointless and a hundred and one things crowd in and sabotage quality time with God.

A vital spiritual life can be a bit like physical fitness: easier said than done! We don't dispute the theory of the value of exercise and the necessity of pushing through the pain barrier, but actually exercising until we reach fitness is something else again.  Similarly we can know, and even exhort others, about the necessity of keeping our relationship with God fresh, alive and growing. But getting out of our conversational armchairs (or pulpits) and demonstrating the reality is a challenge we'd often rather not face.

Guilt trips don't help much, however! Perhaps having one's cover blown and being forced to admit that the tide is out spiritually can provide some initial motivation for change. But in the end guilt won't carry us very far into a new reality. So, what will?  Let me suggest some possibilities.

Look at What You Really Want. Have a go right now at putting into a sentence what you most want or long for in your relationship with God. What did you come up with? If you didn't stop to formulate your own sentence do it now! One author suggests that the process of any transformation depends on the answers to three questions: What do I want? Where does it hurt? What price am I prepared to pay?[i] Ask yourself the second two questions as well.

Wanting or longing or desiring are at the heart of most spiritual growth. The Psalmists knew how to express their longings.[ii] And as Joyce Huggett points out, "The language of spirituality seems punctuated by words like desire, thirst, hunger, pining, panting, homesickness, languishing, sighing, seeking, restlessness and yearning."[iii] If you don't genuinely long for anything it is hardly surprising that nothing seems to change. But if you do  have a deep desire for a renewed, more intimate or disciplined or dynamic walk with God, then take heart: your longing itself may be the first indication of the turning of the tide.

Face Up to What is Getting in the Way: Reasons for spiritual dryness, boredom or lethargy  are many. Careful discernment as well as honesty and common sense are essential here. If ill health, emotional trauma or lack of sleep, are causing that "tide's out" feeling, then take the appropriate action and don't "spiritualise" your problem.

Then again, there are times when Jesus allows his disciples to go through desert periods as a way of strengthening faith. Here the disciple's response is to continue in consistent commitment to regular spiritual disciplines without demanding pleasant feelings or exciting experiences. In this case nothing is "wrong"; the challenge is to stay faithful to God even when God seems hidden from you.

Having drawn attention to the two possibilities above, I want to focus most attention on a third area which is likely to be more common. Strange as it may seem we often avoid the very thing we say we want most - a deeper relationship with God. We avoid spending time with God in prayer, reflection on Scripture and openness to the Spirit, for a variety of (often unconscious) reasons. For a start, the enemy is hard at work to keep us from such a vital relationship. We should never underestimate the subtlety here. Resisting him requires determination and faith. Read CS Lewis's Screwtape Letters and Letters to Malcolm About Prayer for some insights on this.

Perhaps we avoid spending quality time with God because we are afraid of what we might discover if we really became quiet enough to listen. For all our talk about a God who loves us and whose purposes for us are always good, we seem strangely reluctant to give God our undivided attention. It is true that God's love is sometimes "tough love", but to avoid loving discipline is also to reject the process which enables us to "share his holiness" (Hebrews 12:10).  Besides, if we give no priority time to God's company, we remove ourselves from the nurturing, affirming, strengthening aspects of God's love too!

Having raised the issue of priority time, let's grasp that nettle. A very commonly given reason for inadequate devotional life is lack  of time. But the truth is, no person on this earth has more time, or less time, than another. We all know that the real issue is priorities. Knowing that doesn't solve the problem though! If this is an issue for you I suggest the following diagnosis and solution: over a period of a week make a list headed "Things to Which I Give a Higher Priority Than Prayer". On that list write everything that you did in the time that was supposedly set aside for prayer, quiet time or devotions. Then spread your list before the Lord and let him respond to it. You may be surprised! Sometimes God may agree that another priority was more pressing and give you understanding support. About other things the Spirit may provide you with a creative solution you would never have thought of alone. And, yes, at times you may sense God's sadness and rebuke.

For some people the blockage to what they desire in their spiritual lives comes from being in a rut. Relationship with God is exactly that - relationship. Like any other relationship it needs to be kept vital and growing. Two essentials for relationships, both human and divine, are commitment and creativity. This is especially important when an emotional low tide tempts us to resign ourselves to mediocrity, or worse still, to give up altogether.

Having decided what you really want, and looked at what might be hindering that, let's turn to a third step which suggests some practical perspectives on commitment and creativity. 

Explore New Possibilities. Old habits do die hard, but often that's a good thing! The strength of a good habit lies right there. It sticks and carries us through many times when our feelings or willpower might let us down. Good devotional habits have the same quality. Those of us who were brought up on a carefully structured Quiet Time (probably before breakfast!) as an unquestioned priority in every day, have much to be thankful for.

But even good devotional habits can lose their original purpose. Sometimes they are no longer adequate for the new growth areas God is leading us into. Or perhaps the very familiarity of the routine has dulled the freshness of relating to a living, creative, surprising Person. In such cases we need the freedom and the wisdom to let God expand our horizons. Our focus needs to be on growth in Christlikeness rather than on adherence to a routine which no longer serves that end.

What new horizons? What kind of new creative ideas? What replaces old habits which are no longer useful? These are the obvious questions! At this point I am in a bind! I can write a few hundred words giving some specific suggestions which may be just right for some people but not at all applicable to others. Or I can give some guidelines for discovering your own answers. As you have probably guessed I'm choosing the latter!

1. Ask God. Let your desire for a deeper relationship, and your honest assessment of the blockages, prepare you to listen intently. Jot down any thoughts, ideas, questions, promptings, suggestions.

2. Consult books and people. There is a wealth of material both old and new on the subject of devotional life. There are also people whose lives give evidence that they have wisdom to share. Careful choice is necessary though. You can't follow all the ideas in all the books! And your needs, lifestyle and personality may not be the same as the person you admire. But a prayerfully discerning choice can allow God to open new doors for you. 

3. Commit yourself to a regular pattern of behaviour which strengthens your relationship with Christ. Even if some of your old habits need to change, don't allow new possibilities to be mere novelties or gimmicks. Remember that commitment as well as creativity are the essentials for a revitalised relationship.

4. Be accountable to someone. We are the body of Christ. Jesus did not teach or model an individualistic spirituality. Growth in Christlikeness involves walking in the light of honesty with one another. A prayer partner, support group, spiritual director or a "father" / "mother" in Christ, can provide support, challenge and prayerful reinforcement for our commitment to a renewed spiritual life. We all need that.

Are There Any Guarantees That the Tide Will Turn? No and Yes! No in the sense that God is both personal and sovereign. God is not a computer to be programmed to our specifications. God and God alone, knows the purpose of low tide times in our spiritual lives. Our faithfulness and not our feelings are the measure of our maturity.

But I think there is a "yes" as well. It is God's own guarantee that if we seek wholeheartedly we will find.[iv] Jesus reiterates the promise when he says that if we ask and seek and knock we will not be disappointed.[v] If we fulfill the conditions, these promises will undoubtedly be honoured, for nothing less than the "full tide" of life in Christ is our inheritance.[vi]

---

[i] Maggie Ross, The Fountain and the Furnace Paulist Press, 1987 p6

[ii] eg Psalm 42:1-2; 84:2; 102:2.

[iii] Quoted by Peter Toon in What is Spirituality? Daybreak, 1989 p11

[iv] 1 Chronicles 28:9

[v] Mtthew 7:7-11

[vi] Colossians 2:9-10

Have you got back-up?

(First published in Reality. Interestingly just a day or two ago I was told an almost identical story to one below. A person heading for a mission trip to Mongolia discovered at the airport that he had left behind his folder of notes, talks etc. Others felt rather panicky on his behalf but apparently he said - tapping his head -  "That's OK. It's all up here.")

Three incidents happened in the space of a few weeks recently which got me thinking about my inner resources.

First, a friend. She has spent a lifetime in Christian ministry, teaching and giving spiritual direction. Now retired, she spent a few months visiting missionaries in several countries. She found herself in demand for giving retreats and bringing spiritual refreshment. On her return she told me that in the absence of her usual resources of books, notes and handouts she had simply shared from her heart. To her surprise, again and again people told her afterwards that her own lived experience had had far more impact than any amount of carefully prepared material and teaching aids.

It made me think. Hard work and preparation are, of course, part of the stewardship and integrity of a teacher. But what if there are no books, no resources, no teaching aids available? How much of what we have learned in life is so well integrated that it is immediately and naturally available to others?

Then I read Terry Waite's story: four years in solitary confinement. This was more sobering to contemplate. Not only did he not have any books or resources, he had no eager people wanting to hear what he had to say. No one to talk to at all in fact; no one to listen to either.

I was deeply impressed by the honesty and humility of Terry Waite's account. He experienced no ministering angels, no ecstatic experiences of God's presence, no deliverance from the agony of boredom, pain, loneliness and illness. He speaks very simply of a daily routine of prayer and of saying from memory the Anglican communion liturgy. He mentions once, almost apologetically, that he would like to be able to say that he felt God's presence close to him, but that in fact he did not.

This is a far more stark challenge to one's inner resources. What do we find within when even the comfort of feeling God's presence is gone? Do the great truths hold us steady even in the dark?

When we are completely stripped of the "treasures on earth" will we discover that we have adequately "stored up treasures in heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves cannot break in and steal" Matthew 6:20? I hope I never have that tested in the way Terry Waite did. But I was challenged to think about how deeply rooted my rhythm of prayer is, how much Scripture has been stored in my mind for the Spirit to rekindle and how comfortable I am with no one to talk to but God.

The third event was the breakdown of my computer! I know absolutely nothing about the technical side of computers and I was indignant that it should fail me! I was outraged to be told it would take a week to fix!

I surprised myself by my assertive (and successful) attempts to have the repair done more quickly. But all the while an insistent little voice somewhere in the back of my mind was prodding me with a question. Why is this so important? Is your identity somehow tied to the material on that computer?

Now, in practical terms I know it was quite reasonable to want my major tool of trade in good working order as quickly as possible. But this was the third time I had been reminded that the most important things are carried within ourselves.

So what if I had lost all the data on my computer? Surely what is "written on our hearts" (Hebrews 10:16) is what really matters.

The question everyone asked me was "Have you got backup?" They meant backup data on disk of course, but the question took on a deeper meaning as I pondered all three events together. Have I got backup? Is my inner life a storehouse of the things that really matter? Is there backup within?

Paul reminds us: "You know that you are a letter from Christ...written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone [or books or computer disks] but on tablets of human hearts." 2 Corinthians 3:3

I trust that I will continue to use well, and gratefully, the external resources available to me while they remain. Paradoxically however, it is in their absence that I will discover whether they have contributed to what has lasting value.

Wild Winter Worship

(first published in Reality in the 1990's. As I re-read this I noticed with a cringe how I had used masculine pronouns for God. I wouldn't do that now. It sounds odd, strange and definitely not accurate.  It just shows how our - or at least my - understanding of God develops over time. Which is a good thing! Mind you, I don't think even in the 1990's I thought of God as male. It just seemed so natural to write that way and obviously not important enough then to find a different way. I've edited this version to lessen the cringe factor. However, it is hard to write or speak abut God without using gendered pronouns so one or two have remained - but I hope in a way that is a bit more even handed! )

On my way home from work one winter afternoon I suddenly felt the urge to drive out of the city to a wild ocean beach. It seemed a rather odd thing to do. There was a strong, cold wind and only an hour before darkness - not the best  beach walking conditions! But I followed the  inner nudge and drove on.

As I drove I reflected on how powerfully I feel connected to God when I am close to creation. "The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge." Psalm 19:1-2. Of course my spirit and God's Spirit  have a chance to meet when I am close to the work of her hands.

"When and where do you find you can best communicate with God?" I ask people in lectures or workshops on prayer. The answers always include "Out in creation". "So how often do you seek God in the sanctuary of his world?" Surprised looks, mumbled answers: "I haven't got time." "Shouldn't prayer be more serious?" "I feel guilty doing something I enjoy so much and calling it prayer!"

What limits we put on the ways our creative God plans to meet us. How much God longs to tell, or shout, or thunder God's character, power and glory through what he has made:
"Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name; worship the Lord in holy splendour. The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the glory of God thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters...The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness; the Lord shakes the wilderness of Kadesh. The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl, and strips the forests bare; and in his temple all say,'Glory!' " Psalm 29:2-3;7-9

Yet, in the face of all this we so often sit inside with wrinkled brow and closed eyes and say: "It is so hard to be in touch with God."  Does God laugh or groan? "For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made." Romans 1:19-20

"Well Lord, " I thought as I pulled up at the beach, "it's a grey, freezing day and most people would think I'm crazy coming out here. But you and I are here together  so what do you have to show me?"

Down on the beach I discovered that a winter gale on a west coast beach is like a snowstorm. Great balls of foam race across the sand icing mounds of seaweed and piling up against the steps for all the world like a snowdrift. Bigger foam piles shiver in the freezing wind and then break up and skim like ice skaters across the steely gray sand.

I am like a child in my delight as I watch and kick and run to catch a foam ball. The skaters are far too fast for me. They whisk around my feet playfully caressing my shoes with a touch so light it cannot be felt. I laugh at myself as I grab and miss. I can almost hear the ocean laughing with me. There is a tangible connection of energy, delight and joy between the elements and me. I feel it blowing into me and around me as I stand facing the wind and exulting in the roar of the ocean. In this present moment there is nothing between me and the power of the creator pounding in the ocean, dancing in the skating foamballs and surging in the wind that nearly blows me off my feet.

A primitive joy that has nothing to do with the circumstances of my life rises from my belly and and surges like the surf through all the crevices of my being demanding expression in a shout of delight.

Bundled in parka, woolly hat, scarf and gloves, I am dressed for worship. Standing alone laughing into the wind I join all creation in praise. Marvelling that the cliff top plants are not blown out by the roots is sermon enough: how deep are my roots? What storms must they withstand?

The Spirit led me out to the wilds of Muriwai beach today I am sure. It wasn't a "sensible" thing to do on such a day but the urge was insistent. Continue to be insistent in me Creative God. Break me out of my sensible, anxious, boring boundaries and fill me again and again with the wind and dancing foam of your Spirit.

(Photos taken by Janet Currie at Piha - close enough to what Muriwai was like!)