Withered joy and blasted hopes

When I lived in London, my brother was training at St Thomas's Hospital and I used to visit him in Lambeth. That's when I first came across the imposing Metropolitan Tabernacle at Elephant and Castle. It was built to accommodate the huge congregations that came to hear the Victorian Baptist preacher, Charles Spurgeon. According the Wikipedia he preached to more than 10 million in his lifetime - which in the days before broadcasting and electronic media is a remarkable statistic. He still has a lot of fans today, including someone who teaches preaching near here. Simon put this on his Facebook this morning. 


Great focus for today from Spurgeon: "'Yet,' says Moses, 'though we are always changing, Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place throughout all generations.' The Christian knows no change with regard to God. He may be rich to-day and poor to-morrow; he may be sickly to-day and well to-morrow; he may be in happiness to-day, to-morrow he may be distressed - but there is no change with regard to his relationship to God. If He loved me yesterday, He loves me to-day. My unmoving mansion of rest is my blessed Lord. Let prospects be blighted; let hopes be blasted; let joy be withered; let mildews destroy everything; I have lost nothing of what I have in God. He is 'my strong habitation whereunto I can continually resort.' I am a pilgrim in the world, but at home in my God. In the earth I wander, but in God I dwell in a quiet habitation."

I thought it was worth repeating. Another friend of mine in the Far East who has cancer wrote, "Real theology comes out of suffering." That's probably true of Spurgeon who suffered from depression. By the age of 22 he was the most popular preacher of his day, preaching to audiences of 10,000+. "On 8 January 1856, Spurgeon married Susannah, daughter of Robert Thompson of Falcon Square, London, by whom he had twin sons, Charles and Thomas born on 20 September 1856. At the end of that year, tragedy struck on October 19, 1856, as Spurgeon was preaching at the Surrey Gardens Music Hall for the first time. Someone in the crowd yelled, 'Fire!' The ensuing panic and stampede left several dead. Spurgeon was emotionally devastated by the event and it had a sobering influence on his life. He struggled against depression for many years and spoke of being moved to tears for no reason known to himself" (Wikipedia). He must have gone from elation to devastation, feeling his "joy withered". But God proved his place of "quiet habitation".

A song of faith

The Bodyguard used to be one of my favourite films, not least because of the image of loving self-sacrifice it portrayed. As far as I remember it, Whitney Houston was the beautiful superstar whom former secret service agent Kevin Costner was hired to protect. After a stormy working and romantic relationship between them, the climax of the film comes at the Academy Awards when Costner takes the assassin's bullet and saves Houston's life. It of course is the film which rocketed Whitney Houston to stardom and made Dolly Parton's song, "I will always love you", a hit for her.

Another of her later theme songs was "I look to you":

As I lay me down

Heaven hear me now

I’m lost without a cause

After giving it my all

Winter’s storm has come

And darkened my sun

After all that I’ve been through

Who on earth can I turn to?

I look to you

I look to you

After all my strength is gone

In you I can be strong

I look to you

I look to you

And when melodies are gone

In you I hear a song 

I look to you

About to lose my breath

There’s no more fighting left

Sinking to rise no more

Searching for that open door

And every road I’ve taken

Led to my regret

And I don’t know if I’m going to make it

Nothing to do but lift my head

I look to you

I look to you

And when my strength is gone

In you I can be strong

I look to you

I look to you

And when melodies are gone

In you I hear a song

I look to you

My levees are broken, my walls have come

Crumbling down on me

The rain is falling, defeat is calling

I need you to set me free

Take me far away from the battle

I need you, shine on me

I look to you

I look to you

After all my strength is gone

In you I can be strong

I look to you

I look to you

And when melodies are gone

In you I hear a song

I look to you

I look to you

I look to you

Speaking about why the album has been named after the song “I Look to You” Houston said: “The last several years spiritually, this song says all I wanted to say. There are times in life when we go through certain situations - some not so good. You have to reach for a higher strength, you have to reach deep inside yourself, spend time with yourself to make some corrections that go beyond your own understanding and lean on a higher understanding; for me song puts it all in check. If I did not have my faith, I wouldn’t be as strong today.”

As is clear, she wasn't that strong even three years ago. And yet that song, with its repeated "I look to you", remains a remarkable expression of faith. Sometimes we have none of our resources left and all we can do is "look to you", or as Charles Wesley put it in his children's hymn, "Lamb of God, I look to thee." Although the circumstances of Whitney Houston's death might make some doubt her faith at the end, I suspect it's more an indication of the havoc that drink and drugs had wrought with her mind than her spiritual state. I am sure that God to whom she was looking never lost sight of her and never stopped loving her. I suspect she's now hearing the song she sang about: "In you I hear a song."

Ash Wednesday

I've just come across this. I suspect it might be even too speedy a sermon for some of you, but there is a lot in it: A 2-minute guide to Lent. It's encouraging to read both an editorial and a comment-is-free article in today's Guardian about Lent. I think militant atheism, ironically, might be succeeding in putting the Christian faith back into the public arena. "God works in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform..."!

The editorial about preparing for death ends: "Those who give things up for Lent often use it as a time for cheery self-improvement. Priests and existentialist Israeli film directors will not agree on the answers to life's questions, but they share the view that we cannot resolve the meaning of life by not asking the question of death."


The article, which you can read here, by the theologian, Jane Williams, briefly outlines the story of Jesus' 40 days in the desert. "This is how the New Testament tells it, and that's why Jesus's followers 'do' Lent. For a few weeks, we try to see that the world doesn't crumble if we don't have everything we want; we try to make ourselves and our resources that little bit more available for ends other than our own." And it ends like this: "That's a far cry from giving up chocolate or coffee for Lent, but there is really no point at all in a Lenten discipline that isn't about reimagining the world so that it revolves less about our own desires and more about the good of all. When Lent ends, that vision of the world doesn't. It's a world that is less about what I want, and more about what we all need, in which the good life for me is unimaginable unless it is also the good life for you."

Shrove Tuesday

I liked today's Facebook status from the nuns who live near here at East Hendred. They are looking forward to Lent (which starts tomorrow) so positively. Their mention of confession reminded me that the word Shrove is the past tense of the old word "shrive", which means to seek forgiveness through confession. "Today, Shrove Tuesday, we pray for all who will be keeping Carnival, all who will be making their pre-Lenten confession, and all who have not yet thought about Lent. Lent is such a time a grace - we don't want to waste a minute of it!" 


I don't know the origin of Carnival - or Mardi Gras - as today is also celebrated. Maybe it's the celebration of the assurance of forgivenness, or maybe it's the final blow-out before six weeks of fasting - which, by the way, I discovered last week, has proven physical as well as spiritual benefits (Fasting protects your brain). Maybe it's an unrestrained version of our very reserved Pancake Day, using up the goodies in the larder before Lent.

A friend of mine is taking up "exercise" for Lent. Her friends are intrigued by which dimension she's going to exercise in. I suspect she means simply physical, but its point will be to focus more on God. Which is what the nuns mean by Lent being a time of grace - a time when we can make extra time to be more aware of His presence in our daily lives, whether by giving something up or by doing something different. And the great thing is that as we do that for 40-odd days, it becomes part of our lives that sticks. You may not succeed 100% in your good intentions, if you're human! And that's why today is such a good preparation for Lent, as it reassures us that we are normal when we fail, but God is extraordinary in his faithfulness:
"If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us" (1 John 1.8-10).


Here's praying we all find Lent a time of grace.

Knocked down, but not knocked out

Went back to Three Minute Retreat today. It was about the young Samuel responding to God in the night in the temple. "The Lord called to Samuel three times before Samuel recognised the Lord as the caller. We can be like that too. We know that God is present to us in our daily lives and in the people we encounter, but sometimes we don't recognise the sacred in the heat of the moment. Sometimes we need to be nudged into recognising God in what we perceive as interruptions in our schedules. Sometimes we need to be knocked over!" The prayer is, "Teach me, Lord, to hear you, and to answer, 'Here I am, Lord.'"

Fishing boat returning to Exmouth © Mike Temple

I suppose being knocked over is a good way to describe what it feels like to be told you have a terminal illness - knocked down but not knocked out, as J B Phillips' translation of  2 Corinthians 4 puts it: "This priceless treasure we hold, so to speak, in a common earthenware jar—to show that the splendid power of it belongs to God and not to us. We are handicapped on all sides, but we are never frustrated; we are puzzled, but never in despair. We are persecuted, but we never have to stand it alone: we may be knocked down but we are never knocked out! Every day we experience something of the death of the Lord Jesus, so that we may also know the power of the life of Jesus in these bodies of ours."

I'm still thinking about my co-author, Jozanne Moss, of course - who died on Tuesday at her home in South Africa. The tributes that have been coming in on Facebook all bear witness to the truth that in the fragile earthenware jar which was her body there was a priceless treasure, which others could see even though she couldn't. Her response to being knocked over was exactly, "Here I am, Lord."


There are many remarkable passages she wrote in I Choose Everything. This is one of the most remarkable: "Through my illness God has stripped away everything that I could possibly turn to for security, those things that we don't realize we put our trust in. So often we think we are trusting the Lord, when actually our faith lies in our abilities, talents and circumstances. I cannot be anything or do anything anymore. That may seem quite tragic to some people, but it has been such a privilege for me. It is so easy to get caught up in the things of the world, but I have nothing else to trust in. I have only God. He has shown me how to surrender completely – how to let go and let Him. I feel free! I am in His hands; He is the driver and I'm just along for the ride. I don't pray to my 'boss' any more; I pray to my Father, my Comforter, my Rock and my Refuge."

Well, she's completely in His hands now, and what she knew in her spirit then she now knows as a total reality. "Here I am, Lord." Free at last!

Birthday pearls of wisdom

This comes from the Facebook of Shape Arts, which a London Disability-led arts organisation working to improve access to culture for disabled people. The post was headed: "Wise words...".

“Reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many - not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” 

Happy 200th birthday, Charles Dickens.

Wise words for everyone, in my book.

Stone and sand

A friend sent me this fable in an email on Friday. It's an old chestnut, I gather, but I'd not read it before.

TWO FRIENDS WERE WALKING THROUGH THE DESERT.  DURING SOME POINT OF THE JOURNEY, THEY HAD AN ARGUMENT; AND ONE FRIEND SLAPPED THE OTHER ONE IN THE FACE. THE ONE WHO GOT SLAPPED WAS HURT, BUT WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING, WROTE IN THE SAND, “TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE.”

THEY KEPT ON WALKING, UNTIL THEY FOUND AN OASIS, WHERE THEY DECIDED TO TAKE A BATH. THE ONE WHO HAD BEEN SLAPPED GOT STUCK IN THE MIRE AND STARTED DROWNING, BUT THE FRIEND SAVED HIM. AFTER HE RECOVERED FROM THE NEAR DROWNING, HE WROTE ON A STONE, “TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE.”

THE FRIEND WHO HAD SLAPPED AND SAVED HIS BEST FRIEND ASKED HIM, “AFTER I HURT YOU, YOU WROTE IN THE SAND AND NOW, YOU WRITE ON A STONE - WHY?” 

THE FRIEND REPLIED, “WHEN SOMEONE HURTS US WE SHOULD WRITE IT DOWN IN SAND, WHERE WINDS OF FORGIVENESS CAN ERASE IT AWAY. BUT, WHEN SOMEONE DOES SOMETHING GOOD FOR US, WE MUST ENGRAVE IT IN STONE WHERE NO WIND CAN EVER ERASE IT.” 

I am sure that the fable wasn't around in Jesus' time. But I wonder whether he had something like the idea in mind when he wrote in the dust when faced with the woman taken in adultery. John doesn't tell us what he wrote with his finger, but no doubt it was erased within seconds as the wind blew and feet trampled over it. Perhaps he wrote her sin there. Certainly he forgave her - and taught us to pray, "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us."

This morning our service ended with one of my favourite hymns, Before the throne of God, "I have a great High Priest who ever lives and pleads for me... My name is graven on His hands, My name is written on His heart..." (partly based on Isaiah 49.16). That's the best reason for engraving others' loving deeds indelibly, and erasing our grudges.  

A hairy parable

I was sent this story yesterday, and although it doesn't do justice to the profound questions it raises - about suffering and pain - it does highlight one very important factor often omitted in attacks on the existence of a loving God, and that is the freedom we have in relation to him. He doesn't compel us to involve him in our lives. Some of the responsibility is on us.


A man went to a hairdresser's to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed. As the hairdresser began to work, they started to have a good conversation. They talked about a lot of things and various subjects.

When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the hairdresser said: 'I don't believe that God exists.'

'Why do you say that?' asked the customer, interested. 

'Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that God doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving God who would allow all of these things.'

The customer thought for a moment, but didn't respond because he didn't want to start an argument. He wanted a good haircut.

The hairdresser finished his job and the customer left the salon.

Just after he left, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard. He looked dirty and unkempt. The customer turned back and entered the salon again and he said to the hairdresser: 'You know what? Hairdressers do not exist.' 

'How can you say that?' asked the surprised hairdresser. 'I am here, and I am a hairdresser. And I just worked on you!'

'No!' the customer exclaimed. 'Hairdressers don't exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside.'

'Ah, but hairdressers DO exist! That's what happens when people do not come to me.'

'Exactly!' affirmed the customer. 'That's the point! God, too, DOES exist! That's what happens when people do not go to him and don't look to him for help. That's why there's so much pain and suffering in the world.'

I have to say that there's a great post on the Diary of a Wip blog called God's silent witnesses which gives a much better perspective than this has been able to.

Thoughts for the day from my carer and others

There's a lot of nonsense in the media about particular days, like "Black Friday" and "Blue Monday", almost predisposing us to a particular mood for the day. Stupid! A friend put this on her Facebook status today. That's more like it. Thanks, Emma!

 

My carer was a few minutes later than usual this morning, but it didn't matter. I enjoy times of waiting. Our Bible notes today began: "'But I have stilled and quietened my soul; like a weaned child with its mother...' (Psalm 131.2). Still yourself before the Lord, and listen for his voice."

Whether my carer was speaking something of the Lord's voice, I don't know - I try not to dismiss the probability that God will speak in unexpected ways, ever since he used Balaam's donkey. Anyway he quoted something he'd read in a weekend supplement: "There's a danger of us becoming human doings rather than human beings." And later he quoted Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk saying: "Don't just do something; sit there!" which is, as they'd say over the pond, a "kinda neat" way of saying it.

courtesy - the Eddy family

Our local curate's family have just brought home a lovely spaniel puppy, which no doubt has periods of frenetic activity, but also has the gift of stillness. It's something that dogs are very good at - relaxing. I suppose that's what we also need, a balance between doing and being - but we need to avoid measuring our value or our importance by our doing. God values us all, because we're his children, and his love is the measure that matters. "It's so high, you can't get over it; so deep, you can't under it; so wide, you can't get round it. Oh wonderful love!" as we heard on Sunday.