Friday 26 September 2008

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".

Friday 19 September 2008

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.

Monday 15 September 2008

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.

Monday 8 September 2008

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.