Baby steps

"Fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it." Romans 12: 2a (The Message)

The search for vision continues. Although I confess I have not been good at asking God about it. A few days ago, however, I decided to revisit Romans 12. Over the last couple of years I have used this passage as sort of creed. The basis of a code by which to try and live. But it is hard, not least when you don't entirely understand it.

Take the verse above. The question which immediately springs into my mind is how do I recognise what it is that God wants? Surely if it were that easy everyone would be doing it already? It's like saying to a blind man "shout out every time I show you a different colour" or to a deaf man "tap your foot to the beat of this drum".

And then it hit me. Maybe it really is that easy. Perhaps the reason I don't recognise what God wants is because I'm always looking for big things. Some huge voice to tell me to go on a quest of great importance. Perhaps, however, the voice is not huge - but just the gentle prompting of scripture. And perhaps the quest is seemingly minor. Fix your attention on me. Spend a few more minutes a day with me. Get to know me better.

A friend of mine came round this evening and brought the story of David Wilkerson to my attention. He is well known for his outreach to the gangs of New York. Yet, according to my friend - the beginning of his call was being told to sell his TV. If he had never got past that, he may never have gone on to achieve what he did.

Perhaps the reason I see no big vision is because I am too ready to compromise the apparently smaller one which sits in front of it...

Solitude and growth

"I've told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends. You are my friends when you do the things I command you. I'm no longer calling you servants because servants don't understand what their master is thinking and planning. No, I've named you friends because I've let you in on everything I've heard from the Father." John 15: 11-15 (The Message)

Once again I find myself considering whether hardship is a prerequisite for growth. A problem that I thought had been solved months ago resurfaced this week. My initial response was one of anger and the urge to lash out at those behind it. This was followed by a need to retreat - if only briefly. I took myself off to the nearest available piece of green space - a cemetery - and wrestled with God. After this the need to fight remained, but my target changed. The problem itself is the thing to be fought, not the people who raised it.

Now, a few days later, I can see that response as a relatively new progression for me. The retreat to a place of solitude prior to action. I suppose my initial retreat was born out of conflict. However, since weaving solitude into my daily life I have moved away from that root. The race into God's arms stems as much from a desire for his presence as for his help. I suppose it is a more mature response.

It seems to me that if we only rely on God in times of conflict the seed is desperation not relationship. Such a seed engenders growth because we see God's ability to intervene and protect. It breaks our independence. But it is feeble growth compared to that which arises from relationship. Time spent with God leads to inter-dependence. A richer experience of a bigger God who is not just a protector. It sounds almost wrong to say it makes us less dependant on God, but I can think of no better way to put it. Or perhaps it is more that it changes the source of our dependence from desperation, hopelessness and lack of self-worth to a knowledge of acceptance. We are friends, not servants. We come not as beggars or refugees as a last resort to flee from disaster, but rather as members of the family confident that disaster has already been averted.

Unconditional love

"We can understand someone dying for a person worth dying for, and we can understand how someone good and noble could inspire us to selfless sacrifice. But God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him." Rom 5: 7-8 (The Message)

This weekend I was once again looking after my mother. There is very little now that she can do or wants to engage with. She cannot read, and does not want to be read to. She has very little conversation - and quickly loses the thread of anything that you tell her. About the only thing she enjoys is going for a walk. So, despite the cold, we did a lot of walking. Most of it in silence - because it becomes hard to hold a conversation with one who has so little to say. It's heart-breaking to see how much she has lost. I realised once again just how much I miss her. Yet despite all of that I still love her and treasure the time we spend together. Just to give her a hug, or hold her hand. To share a little silliness and raise a momentary smile.

It got me thinking a bit about the way that God loves us. Since finishing Finding Sanctuary I have been working my way through an Henri Nouwen reader, Seeds of Hope. It is a collection of snippets from his various writings. This morning I came to the following:

The great temptation is to use our many obvious failures and disappointments in our lives to convince ourselves that we are not worth being loved. Because what do we have to show for ourselves?

But for a person of faith the opposite is true. The many failures may open that place in us where we have nothing to brag about but everything to be loved for. It is becoming a child again, a child who is loved simply for being, simply for reaching out.

This is the way to spiritual maturity; to receive love as a pure free gift.

It made me stop short again. God's gift of love does not depend on what I achieve for him. It does not depend on my search for his kingdom. It is not reduced by the set-backs and failures I encounter. The fact I've hurt him or missed a few quiet times does not make him feel awkward or sullen in my presence.

I wonder, ultimately, if this is what the kingdom is. To be accepted for who I am not what I can do. Maybe the best I can ever do for anyone else is just that...

Persecution

"I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion, while you go right on sinning. When you put on your next prayer-performance, I'll be looking the other way. No matter how long or loud or often you pray, I'll not be listening. And do you know why? Because you've been tearing people to pieces, and your hands are bloody. Go home and wash up. Clean up your act. Sweep your lives clean of your evil-doings so I don't have to look at them any longer. Say no to wrong. Learn to do good. Work for justice. Help the down-and-out. Stand up for the homeless. Go to bat for the defenseless." Isaiah 1: 14-17 (The Message)

I've shied away from dealing with the eighth beatitude. "Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." This is a tough message; the kingdom of heaven belongs to the persecuted.

Persecution is not something that I have had much experience of. When I was at school I encountered a bit of trouble for my faith - but the worst that ever amounted to was repeatedly having small bits of blu-tac flicked into my hair by one rather obnoxious young girl who took it upon herself to disrupt Christian Union meetings. It was painful to remove - but nothing compared to the ills experienced by many who profess the faith.

Last week a colleague of mine gave me an article from Open Doors magazine. It asks the question are we in enough trouble for our faith? It quotes a Beijing pastor:

"When you become a Christian you identify with God, and his enemies become your enemies. And so you become the object of a pursuit by the world and the devil. That is where the trouble comes from."

So the challenge became: how could the idea be brought back to the UK. "Find the defining evil in your area, in your society," said the pastor. "Become a threat to it through the power of God, and then watch for the persecution."

I'm not sure I know how to deal with this. To go looking for persecution sounds all wrong to me. But I believe in doing what is right for the right motives, and maybe a lack of persecution demonstrates that I'm not actually putting that into practice?

Be thou my vision

"My counsel for you is simple and straightforward: Just go ahead with what you've been given. You received Christ Jesus, the Master; now live him. You're deeply rooted in him. You're well constructed upon him. You know your way around the faith. Now do what you've been taught. School's out; quit studying the subject and start living it! And let your living spill over into thanksgiving." Col 2: 6-7 (The Message)

A few days ago I came again to the critical realisation that I have no longer have any vision for my current job. It is not an entirely new thought, but it is one that I have either pushed away or forgotten on previous occurrences. The problem with this is that, as a leader, vision is a crucial part of of what I should provided for my team. Ps 29: 18 says "Where there is no vision the people perish". I don't think my team is exactly perishing, but there is a lack of focus, a lack of urgency and a general feeling of floundering.

Bill Hybels has this to say in his book Courageous Leadership:

Vision is at the very core of leadership. Take vision away from a leader and you cut out his or her heart. Vision is the fuel that leaders run on. It is the energy that creates action. It is the fire that ignites the passion of followers.

So what am I going to do about it? This is slightly more tricky! I decided last week that at the very least I should pray for vision, which I have started to do.

This morning my bible readings brought me to the passage in Colossians, quoted above. Whilst not entirely helpful it gives me pause to think. Maybe living out my faith should be my vision - and if that is not the focus of my job, then maybe I'm no longer in the right one...

The word made flesh

"I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands. I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. " Ps 119: 10-11

It's been a while since I have written. Moving house, a bout of ill health and other preoccupations have kept me away. The last few weeks have been a spiritually dry place. I have yelled at God a lot. His answers are, more often than not, non-answers. I see this often in scripture. God does not answer man's direct question, choosing rather to focus his replies on strengthening our relationship with him.

Last weekend I was home again, helping my father look after my mother who's Alzheimer's continues to get worse. During this time he told me how little time he had to himself these days. He hardly even finds time to read his bible. Here is someone who has a real cause to yell at God. And yet his words were tinged with hope and joy not sadness or anger. He went on to tell me that many days he just picks a story in his mind and goes over what he knows of it. He has read the bible so many times it has become part of his thinking. So deeply ingrained in his soul that being deprived of the text is no hardship.

As I left, I stole two of my mother's Henri Nouwen books. She cannot read more than a few words without losing the thread these days so I figured she would not miss them. In one of them I found this.

The purpose of a fish trap is to catch fish and when the fish are caught the trap is forgotten. The purpose of a rabbit snare is to snare rabbits and when the rabbits are caught the snare is forgotten. The purpose of the word is to convey ideas. When the ideas are grasped the words are forgotten. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words? He is the one I would like to talk to.

In my thinking about the sermon on the mount I am drawn to conclude that the words are not the important thing, beautiful though they are. It is the lifestyle that is important. The concepts need to be so deeply carved into the fabric of our souls that we live that way without thinking. Looking at the example of my father I fear I still have a long way to go...