A thrill of hope! The weary world rejoices

"But amidst all these rejoicings Aslan himself quietly slipped away. And when the Kings and Queens noticed that he wasn't there they said nothing about it. For Mr Beaver had warned them, 'He'll be coming and going,' he had said. 'One day you'll see him and another you won't. He doesn't like to be tied down - and of course he has other countries to attend to. It's quite all right. He'll often drop in. Only you mustn't press him. He's wild you know. Not like a tame lion'" - The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. (C.S.Lewis)

On Christmas Eve I find myself thinking about God's timing. History pivots on this night. The old testament leans forward towards it. The new testament is possible only because of it. The message renders Romans 5:6 as "Christ arrives right on time to make this happen. He didn't, and doesn't, wait for us to get ready."

As an evangelical it is too easy to race on forwards to Easter. To view this night solely in the context of the future. But perhaps tonight we, like Mary, should treasure the moment in our hearts. For God acts when he chooses to act. His coming, his transformation, his salvation are on his terms, not ours and our understanding of his actions is so very limited.

In the words of the carol

"Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by his cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men from orient land.
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friend.

He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold your King, Behold your King."

Christmas presence

One of the many television advertisements which bombard our conscience to conform at this time of the year has the slogan "Christmas Solved". It plays on the feeling that Christmas represents a problem. It is as if somehow going to a particular website to order all our presents in one go can take a weight off our minds and free us to get on with our lives.

Yet this year I feel some sympathy with that. This year Christmas does feel more of a burden than a blessing. Not because of a list of imaginary tasks I have to accomplish, however, but rather in coming to terms with reality. My Christmas day will be spent in a care home with my Mother. In many ways it is as far away from an ideal Christmas as I can imagine it to be.

In my childhood the future possibility of Christmas with relatives in care never occurred to me. Whilst I may not wish for a return to a childhood Christmas, I do wish that she were better. That she understood more of what was going on around her. That I knew that she was happy (or at least contented - I'd settle for that).

Yet in another sense, however, it is closer to ideal. Christmas will be simpler. Many of the unnecessary distractions will no longer be there. Instead it will be about family. About love and care. About presence rather than presents.

This morning I was faced with the reality of Christmas for millions round the world. Refugees in Congo. Political prisoners in Zimbabwe. Peace on earth seems a distant dream in uncertain times. But in struggling myself to locate the joy at the heart of the Christmas story I find myself closer to their experience, and closer to the original story. Christ comes into an imperfect world not to cure it, but to care. To live and suffer alongside a broken creation. To offer a glimpse of a hope that is to come.

The people walking in darkness

"I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth." East Coker (TS Eliot)

Advent, I was reminded this morning, is a time of waiting, of anticipation. A time for reflection. It leads up to Christmas, which is a time of joy, of fulfilment and surprise. The outcome of the waiting transcends expectation. God's gift, whilst long anticipated, is nevertheless unexpected. God's solution to the worlds problem begins not as grandiose intervention into human history, but in the cries of a child in stable in a backwater town.

I'm not very good at waiting. I get distracted and wander off on to other things. But a distracted waiting is not really waiting. All too often it degenerates into attempts to find my own solution. To construct my own gift. To frame my desires, my hopes, my agenda. Yet as Eliot implies true waiting has no agenda. It's not that it is without hope - but rather that hope arises out of the prospect of the surprise rather than in the definition of what it will be. My hope is in the character of God, not the expectation of what he will do. Or at least it should be.

No worries

"'Mole, I'm afraid they're in trouble. Little Portly is missing again; and you know what a lot his father thinks of him, though he never says much about it.'

'What, that child?' said the Mole lightly. 'Well, suppose he is; why worry about it? He's always straying off and getting lost, and turning up again; he's so adventurous. But no harm ever happens to him. Everybody hereabouts knows him and likes him, just as they do old Otter, and you may be sure some animal or other will come across him and bring him back again all right. Why, we've found him ourselves, miles from home, and quite self- possessed and cheerful!'" The Wind in the Willows (Kenneth Grahame)

According to the popular saying, ninety percent of the things that we worry about never happen. Looking back on my own experience I can see I've wasted time and energy turning things over in my mind; things that have happened and I cannot change, or things I fear may happen and cannot avoid. Yet in retrospect, so little of my worry was justified. Things, generally work out far differently in reality from anticipation.

In the sermon on the mount Jesus instructs us not to worry. "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?". And yet with all that I know of him, all that the past demonstrates, all too often I find my mind slipping back into worry. Sometimes it feels as if worry is not something I have any control over. Even if conciously I do not think about the things that worry me, my body nevertheless exhibits the symptoms of subconcious worry. Yet life is clearly better when we don't worry.

Last weekend I spent time with my godson. At ten months his life is pretty simple. Provided his basic requirements for food, warmth, affection and sleep are met he seems a very happy chap. It made me think again about what it means to "become like a little child". He does not worry about the future, partly because he has no concept of it, and partly because he has loving parents who ensure that he is provided for. I suppose the latter is the most important.

Sometimes it is easy to wish that life were simpler - but perhaps ultimately it is. Because we have a loving heavenly father who promises to provide.

Home is where the heart is

"For the grim years where removed from the face of Aragorn, and he seemed clothed in white, a young lord tall and fair; and he spoke words in the elvish tongue to one whom Frodo could not see. Arwen vanilmelda namarië! he said, and then he drew a breath, and returning out of his thought he looked at Frodo and smiled.

'Here is the heart of elvendom on earth,' he said. 'and here my heart dwells ever, unless there be a light beyond the dark roads that we still must tread, you and I...'" The Lord of the Rings

The tail-end of Matthew six seems very appropriate for an era of 'credit-crunch'.

Do not store treasure on earth where insects and decay destroy or thieves may rob you. Where banks may fail or stocks may lose value in market crashes. Instead store treasure in heaven where these things do not happen. For where your treasure is will be where your heart dwells also. [My paraphrase]

In The Lord of the Rings Aragorn's heart is with the elves - and with one elf in particular. It is their nobility and the hope of what may yet be which spurs him on to achieve the daunting task ahead of him. In completing his quest, coming into the kingship and gaining the hand of Lady Arwen he gains all the other things as well. So it is in scripture.

At the end of Matthew six Jesus concludes his treatise on where our treasure lies with these words. "But seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness and all these other things will be added to you as well". This is not prosperity gospel. Jesus is not saying that we will be rich beyond dreams on earth. He himself was not a rich man. His followers did not come in to riches on his departure. But it is a promise of basic provision. Needs will be met. It seems to me, the kingdom of God is about letting go our grasp on the material to gain a greater treasure.

The focus of encouragement

"This is what the LORD says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, who drew out the chariots and horses, the army and reinforcements together, and they lay there, never to rise again, extinguished, snuffed out like a wick: Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland." Isaiah 43: 16-19 (NIV)

Isaiah 43 refuses to go away. I keep running into it everywhere I go. Each time I encounter it, I spot something new. This weekend I was brought face to face with verse 18. "Forget the former things. Do not dwell on the past". Contrast this with Isaiah 46 vs 9. "Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me."

So which is it? Forget the former things or remember them? Despite the contradiction Isaiah 43 and 46 share a similar structure. They start with an assurance of God's commitment to his people. They move on to an injunction on how to approach the past. But Isaiah 43 arises out of a context of God's judgement and a commitment to look after his people moving forward, whereas 46 arises out of a context of God's historical care for his people and the way that he has looked after them in the past.

The message then, is clear. Don't focus on your past failures or your own plan for the future. Focus on God and what he has promised. Focus on God and what he has done.

No buts living

"Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don't try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he's the one who will keep you on track." Proverbs 3:5-6 (The Message)

A colleague of mine often used to say "in any sentence you can ignore anything before the 'but'". But is a strong word. It changes the course of a sentence. Even if it doesn't entirely negate the preceding clause it places strong demands upon it.

A couple of months ago I posted that I felt God was saying "Ian, do you trust me" and since then I have felt this on several occasions. My response? "Yes Lord, but..."

• But I don't understand
• But it would still be nice if...
• But I wish you could be clearer
• But when is xyz going to change?
• But I can't see the next step

All these things are fine in themselves... but (that word again) does "Yes Lord I trust you, but..." really mean "No"? Because wanting to trust or almost trusting are not the same as actually trusting.

I wonder what a life lived without buts would look like? Most of all I wonder how I could be confident enough that what I was hearing was God's voice to follow with that kind of trust?

The kingdom of the righteous

"Anyone who breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5: 19-20 (NIV)

It's nearly a year since I last wrote about the kingdom references in the gospels - although I hope that most of my intervening posts have been kingdom-focused too. I left off my search in Matthew 5, looking at the beattitudes. The next reference is perhaps even harder to grapple with.

What exactly is righteousness and how can we surpass the Pharisees? Clearly from the way that Jesus berates them, it has nothing to do with creating long lists of the things that God requires and imposing them on ourselves and others. According to the dictionary to be righteous is to be "morally upright, without guilt or sin". Like most of the Sermon on the Mount this seems like an unattainably high standard. Fortunately Paul's words in Romans bring some comfort here.

"[Abraham] did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. This is why "it was credited to him as righteousness." The words "it was credited to him" were written not for him alone, but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead.

Romans 4:20-24

Romans does not absolve us of the responsibility to live righteous lives, but it does indicate that there is hope when we inevitably fall short.

The importance of history

"Remember your history, your long and rich history. I am God, the only God you've had or ever will have — incomparable, irreplaceable — from the very beginning telling you what the ending will be, all along letting you in on what is going to happen, assuring you, 'I'm in this for the long haul, I'll do exactly what I set out to do'" Isaiah 46:9-10 (The Message)

When the Israelites first came into the promised land Moses words to the people are clear. "Do not forget". Isaiah picks up this call. Looking back at history is useful. It reminds us of God's activity in our lives. It strengthens our faith. It moves us to praise. It should make the waiting easier - although often I confess it does not. Confidence that God has acted, does not always translate into confidence that God will act. In fact as I learn more about his character I realise that I often look for him to act in places that he does not. The danger is in looking for the action I want, I fail to notice the unexpected actions. History, therefore, should inspire but not limit our expectations of God.

Recently I came across an interesting quotation (I wish I could remember where!) which ran roughly "God takes you on roads you do not wish to travel to places you didn't expect to go but never want to leave".

Faithfulness down the years

"Listen to me, family of Jacob, everyone that's left of the family of Israel. I've been carrying you on my back from the day you were born, and I'll keep on carrying you when you're old. I'll be there, bearing you when you're old and gray. I've done it and will keep on doing it, carrying you on my back, saving you." Isaiah 46:3-4 (The Message)

Many years ago I came across the opening verses of Isaiah 43 ("Fear not for I have redeemed you. I've called you by name. You are mine.") under circumstances which made them feel like a direct promise to me. Since then the verses have cropped up at significant moments. Over the last few weeks my attention has been directed to the broader context. Isaiah 43 sits at the heart of a passage which stretches from Isaiah 40 to 48 (and possibly beyond). Within the passage several themes emerge. God's continued desire and ability to look after his own; the foolishness of trusting in things which are not God; and the need for repentance and whole-hearted service.

Last weekend I visited my mother once again. Her Alzheimer's has robbed of her so much. This time she seemed particularly lost and forlorn. I wondered again about the place of God in her life. Where is the good in her current situation? Yet Isaiah prompts me to look at the past. Our history confirms God's ability to be active in both our lives.

Since my entry on the sufficiency of grace I have been pondering the difference between faith and trust. My faith is firmly rooted in seeing God's hand in my life. Trust, however, implies an acceptance of the outworking of his purposes in situations which make no sense. Perhaps faith is the confidence to move forward knowing that God can act, whilst trust is an acknowledgement that even if he doesn't, he still has our best interests in mind.

Silence and growth

"It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just got out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others - a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive." C.S.Lewis - The Magician's Nephew

Sometimes breaking silence is useful even if you have nothing to say. If only because saying something gives a basis for new thoughts to crystallise upon.

Reflecting on my last post I realise that it is not so much the quality of the silence which is different, but the emotional state I am in as I experience it. This may be so obvious that it hardly needs stating, but I found it a helpful thought. Why? Because my emotional state is only part of the equation. God's view of the silence may be completely different.

Occasionally I am asked to preach. Initially I used to worry about this. Now I find I quite enjoy it. Not least because I am sure that I learn far more from it than I am able to pass on. The last time I preached I was given a free topic, and I chose the life of Abraham. In preparing, I found myself wondering how Abraham coped with the silence. From God's initial call to the fulfillment of the promise he waited twenty-five years. And if the bible records every conversation God had with him, for the majority of those years God was silent.

The next line of the Pink Floyd quotation I used in my last blog is "of promises broken". If the story of Abraham teaches anything it is that God keeps his promises. Just because God was silent it didn't mean he was not active, or that Abraham was not growing.

The quality of silence

"There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night
and there's dust in my eyes, that blinds my sight
and silence that speaks so much louder than words" Pink Floyd - Sorrow

I knew it was a while since I last wrote; I hadn't realised it was two whole months. Silence, however, is not inappropriate because that is where I find myself. A few months ago I wrote "it is almost as if I have run out of words" and to an extent that is how I still feel.

Have you ever noticed there are different kinds of silence? When I walk, hand-in-hand, with my mother around the grounds of her care home, we are often silent because she has so little to say. This is a companionable silence. At the theatre an expectant hush descends in the time between the dimming of the house-lights and the opening of the curtain. Office banter gives way to preoccupied silence as people work. Sometimes I find myself pausing in conversation as a new, unrelated thought hits me - a distracted silence. And then there is the stony silence after an argument. I remember once driving around Scotland with two friends. We had disagreed on the goal for a day. Two of us wanted to get to the coast - the third wanted to climb a mountain. The silence from the back seat of the car became almost like a physical presence. I could feel it's negativity reaching out and suppressing the joy of the holiday.

This last couple of months I felt most of these types. It started by getting distracted with some new project. This drove me into preoccupation and - dare I say - a month where I pretty much ignored God. Awaking from that I realised just how much I had drifted. Moving back toward companionable silence has been hard work. I'm still not entirely sure I have made it. Sometimes even companionable silence stretches out and becomes stony. It is hard to break that kind of silence, when you don't know what to say.

Surprises not dissapointments

"So, friends, take a firm stand, feet on the ground and head high. Keep a tight grip on what you were taught, whether in personal conversation or by our letter. May Jesus himself and God our Father, who reached out in love and surprised you with gifts of unending help and confidence, put a fresh heart in you, invigorate your work, enliven your speech." 2 Thess 2: 15-17 (The Message)

Another encouraging prayer from Paul. Looking back on the past few months I can see many disappointments. Things which did not work out the way that I wanted or planned. But the gifts of confidence or hope are there also. In going through the disappointments it is surprising how much God is present. He has not always answered. He does not appear to have intervened often. But he has been there. Encouraging. Comforting. Restoring hope when hope has faded.

Moving forward I am praying for that fresh heart and enlivened speech. I guess it may be a dangerous prayer, because the process of gaining a fresh heart is not without pain, but it is nevertheless an exciting prospect.

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.

The sufficiency of grace

An out of the blue comment spurred me to look back at what I've written here. It's been a long time since my last post. That's not because the quest for the kingdom has been abandoned. It is just an increasing realisation that so much of the journey is intensely personal. My energies have been directed more toward private journal than public blog. So what has changed? In many ways not a great deal. I'm still in the same job. My mother still has Alzheimer's - she is now transitioning into full term care. I'm still searching for vision. I'm still shouting at God. He's still being gracious enough to whisper back occasionally. Health, stress and circumstances I don't like (but can't change) still cause me more worry than I believe that they should.

Some things, however, have changed. Just slightly. Perhaps even I've changed a bit. It feels like I've learned lots. My language has changed. It's almost as if I've run out of words. I no longer know what to say to God. That does not stop me going into his presence. If anything it spurs me to spend more time there. I cannot quite unpick whether this lack stems from the noise of the city and the cares of the world pushing them out - or a realisation that so many of my words of old were a futile attempt to control God rather than let him control me. Now when I find my prayers relating to my perception of my needs and the request for my solutions I feel this little voice in the back of my head saying "Do you trust me, Ian?" to which I can but reply "Yes Lord, I trust you. (Or at least I'd like to)". The other phrase which is resounding in my mind is that wonderful promise from 2 Corinthians. "My grace is sufficient for you." The only reply I can frame to that runs roughly thus: "Yes, Lord, but sometimes it really doesn't feel like it."

Confidence and vision

"May God our Father himself and our Master Jesus clear the road to you! And may the Master pour on the love so it fills your lives and splashes over on everyone around you, just as it does from us to you. May you be infused with strength and purity, filled with confidence in the presence of God our Father when our Master Jesus arrives with all his followers." 1 Thess 3: 11-13 (The Message)

I love the little prayers that Paul peppers into his letters. Particularly the way that they come alive in Eugene Peterson's Message translation. I look at that prayer and say, yes, I want that. A clear road would be nice. A vision for the future and a path to follow toward it. Love that is so overwhelming it showers out to others. A robust hope in God, and a real knowledge of his presence.

It seems like an appropriate note on which to start a New Year, after a wonderful break from which I did not wish to return and a touch of the post-holiday blues.