The joyful anticpation of things unseen

"But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.

We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you" Ps 33: 18-22

It seems everywhere I look at the moment I see waiting, from the words I read in the bible to the friend who has just had a hospital operation postponed for the second time. And then last week I read these words in Daily Bread.

Biblical hope is stronger than wishing and wanting. It is an expectation grounded upon our Father’s word. Corrie ten Boom knew she could wait in hope in a Nazi concentration camp. Joni Eareckson Tada learned to trust in his holy name even when she wasn’t healed. We too have good reason to hope, even when life seems hopeless, because God’s love for us is unfailing and he is faithful in all he does.

It is almost as if hope and waiting are two sides of the same coin and one does not make sense without the other. Yet while waiting continues unabated, hope ebbs and flows.

The stature of waiting

"My soul is waiting for the lord
and in his name I trust,
more than a watchman for the morning,
more than a watchman for the dawn.
More than this my soul is waiting,
waiting for the lord" Adrian Snell - Out of the deep (Ps 130)

Reflecting on what I wrote the other day about being in the middle state between "To be and not to be" I recalled to mind some words of Henri Nouwen. He has quite a lot to say about waiting:

Waiting is active. Most of us think of waiting as something very passive, a hopeless state determined by events totally out of our hands. The bus is late? You cannot do anything about it, so you have to sit and wait.

But there is none of this passivity in scripture. Those who wait are waiting very actively. They know that what they are waiting for is growing from the ground on which they are standing. That's the secret. The secret of waiting is the faith that the seed has been planted, that something has begun. Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment in the conviction that something is happening where you are...

It brought to mind the title of a book I've seen on my mother's bookshelf. The Stature of Waiting (W H Vanstone). This morning as I was reading some more from Nouwen I find him quoting that very book. Perhaps I need to borrow that one as well!

As I reflected further the following came to mind: "I know not that for which I trust, but I know him in whom I trust". It sounds like a mangled quotation - but if it is I cannot find who said it. It does, however, sum up where I find myself.

To be or not to be

"'Oh, Trees, Trees, Trees,' said Lucy (though she had not been intending to speak at all). 'Oh, Trees, wake, wake, wake. Don't you remember it? Don't you remember me? Dryads and Hamadryads, come out, come to me.'

Though there was not a breath of wind they all stirred about her. The rustling noise of the leaves was almost like words. The nightingale stopped singing as if to listen to it.

Lucy felt that at any moment she would begin to understand what the trees were trying to say. But the moment did not come. The rustling died away. The nightingale resumed its song. Even in the moonlight the wood looked more ordinary again. Yet Lucy had the feeling (as you sometimes have when you are trying to remember a name or a date and almost get it, but it vanishes before you really do) that she had just missed something: as if she had spoken to the trees a split second too soon or a split second too late, or used all the right words except one, or put in one word that was just wrong." CS Lewis - Prince Caspian

It feels like I've been handed some promises; that things are waiting in the wings to change, happen and breakthrough in my life. Yet they never quite seem to. I am not sure if this is because the time is not quite right, or there is something that I need to do to kick them in to touch. I'm wondering if the problem is that I'm looking for a code? Some secret form of words that unlocks God's plan. That tells me what I want to know and gets me to where I want to be.

Every time I enquire or push the answer seems to be the same. It is not my place to be making the big plans. I need to be be faithful in small things and the rest will fall into place. "Live the good that you know and leave the rest up to me". But this feels wrong to me. So passive.

There are questions which I don't have the answer to which I cannot seem to escape from. There are places where my choices are not clear - contradictory paths neither of which has the monopoly on rightness or goodness, but which cannot both be taken.

One of these at least finds me oscilating. Not doing enough in either direction to make any difference - but with no clear guidance as to what I should choose. The echo of my own heart and reflection tells me the more difficult path is right - but will not lead where I want to go. Set against it the guidance of my friends who tell me the path is closed. So I am left with an internal debate. Is it a case of the foolisness of path one against the wisdom of path two (where foolishness is God's path) or the dead past of path one against the living future of path two (where the future is God's path)?

Hamlet's words seem profound at this point. To be, or not to be? That is indeed the question! Yet the middle state of neither being or not being seems to be the hardest place of all.

Kingdom of Heaven

"I put no stock in religion. By the word religion I have seen the lunacy of fanatics of every denomination be called the will of God. I have seen too much religion in the eyes of too many murderers. Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves, and goodness. What God desires is here [points to head] and here [points to heart] and what you decide to do every day. You will be a good man - or not." The Hospitaller (Kingdom of Heaven)

The other night I watched Ridley Scott's epic, Kingdom of Heaven. It is an interesting and thought-provoking take on the Crusades. Much has been said of it's historical and theological inaccuracies in other reviews - but they're not something I plan to get bogged down with. As a film it's primary aim is to entertain, to tell a good yarn - not to present truth. What intrigued me was the way an agnostic film-maker takes kingdom language and places it in the mouth of an anachronistically agnostic hero without apparently realising he is doing so. He also fails to spot the contradiction in depicting faith as being the despicable cause of violence whilst creating a film which presents violence as entertainment.

Despite this the script-writer manages to slip in some truly Christian principles. The character of the Hospitaller is perhaps the most interesting, he being the only non-agnostic character whose faith consists of more than using the name of Christ to justify his wrong actions. But perhaps this is not a bad lesson. Much damage has been done to the kingdom by those who use the name of Christ but do not follow his teachings. As Gandhi says "I don't reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It's just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ."

I enjoyed the film. It definitely made me think - but it seems a long way from the kingdom that Christ was speaking of.

Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place."

"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.

Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."
John 18: 36-37

Love extravagantly

One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?"

Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." Matt 22: 33-40 (NIV)

I've been reflecting a lot on my statement about having run out of words. In the last few weeks it feels like I've spent more time with God and said less to him than in any comparable period in my life. Heading up the road at lunchtime for a stroll in the local cemetary I invite God to walk with me. The very thought brings a smile to my lips. I know he's with me even if I say nothing more beyond it. It seems that having nothing more to say is not such a bad place to be.

When I mentioned this to a friend at the weekend he referred me to a book by Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God. This simple work expounds the principle of doing everything for the love of God. It's deceptively simple. Love of God becomes Brother Lawrence's motivation, and his reward, for all tasks easy or hard, spiritual or secular. And as he works out this simple creed all things become holy, and all fears dispelled.

The most excellent method he had found for going to God was that of doing our common business without any view of pleasing men but purely for the love of God.

Brother Lawrence felt it was a great delusion to think that the times of prayer ought to differ from other times. We are as strictly obliged to adhere to God by action in the time of action, as by prayer in its time. His own prayer was simply a sense of the presence of God, his soul being at that time aware of nothing other than Divine Love. When the appointed times of prayer were past, he found no difference, because he still continued with God, praising and thanking Him with all his might. Thus his life was a continual joy.