Paradise....

There was morning worship today on Radio 4 from the Greenbelt Festival. I've never been there, but have listened to talks given there, in particular by John O'Donohue who died four years ago. Greenbelt, from what I gather, combines strands of Celtic Christianity and social engagement. It's altogether quieter than something like New Wine! However, the message of this morning's act of worship was pretty hard core.

"loving company"

It seemed to be that Paradise, to which humans aspire and which lies out of reach in this life, is not to be found in escaping into the beauty of creation (the garden) but in entering into relationship with God and with others (the heavenly city). So Jesus says to the dying thief on the cross, "Today you will be with me in Paradise." This rang true with my experience of the holiday from which I've just returned - see my "Dancing Donkey" blog. What made it special wasn't the beautiful surroundings, though we were in the Brecon Beacons; it was the loving company I was with.

The picture of Paradise in Revelation 21 - which I have found impossible to read aloud without aching tears for some years - is of the most intimate of human relationships, husband and wife. "Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.'" That's how deep a relationship the eternal God longs to have with the human beings He made, if only they'd say Yes to His proposal of love! Incredible, but true. Relation, not creation, lies at the heart of Paradise.

The Greenbelt service included this thoughtful prayer:
"God of all, we are grateful that Paradise is not lost, 
in spite of us, our sin against You, each other and our wilful neglect of the world and the resources entrusted to us. 
Indeed we realise that in Your great love You secure the promise of Paradise because of us. 
Wherever deep and true relationship exists between people and with God, Paradise is not lost. 
So, Lord, whenever we are blinded by the pain and turmoil of this broken world 
and lose sight of the harmony of Paradise that was, can now be and is yet to come, 
remind us once again of the cross of Jesus and of the lengths to which You have gone 
to manifest both the power and possibility of Paradise."

At New Wine an inspiring Salvation Army officer, Danielle Strickland, mentioned a hymn written by William Booth which I'd never heard before. However, I got the point. It's about the power and possibility of Paradise. It's a similar thought to Frederick Faber's "we make His love too narrow / with false limits of our own". Why did God go to such lengths? 
"O boundless salvation! deep ocean of love,
O fullness of mercy, Christ brought from above,
The whole world redeeming, so rich and so free,
Now flowing for all men, come, roll over me!" (If, like me, you didn't know it, you can learn it here on YouTube!) 

O boundless salvation! deep ocean of love: yes!

Beauty for ashes

You might like to read my Diary of a Dancing Donkey blog, where I described what Julian of Norwich  called a "revelation of divine love". We spent last week at the New Wine Festival, a big gathering of Christians in Somerset, which led to my starting this blog a year ago.

Gorgeous Grace - Click for link

In the end it was an encouraging time for me. On the way I noted things which people said. Unfortunately I was just using my iPod on which I'm very slow, and so they may be approximate quotes. Anyway here's the first of them, from Karen Jones - who's recently published her first novel with the unlikely title of The Babe's Bible - Gorgeous Grace, which I am reliably informed is gripping. As I was saying, here's the quote:

"Our sufferings cost us too much to waste them."

It's true, isn't it? We can either nurse our pains and almost cherish them, clinging to them rather like Gollum and his "my precious" ring. Or we can release them and use them more like St Paul who used his afflictions "to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 

I think Karen was thinking not only of that, but also of our suffering being a seedbed for the growth of our own maturity and our relationship with God. We can regard suffering as entirely negative and destructive, or we can allow it to be turned to good. I say "allow" as I don't think it's merely a matter of the will. Paul talks about "the God of all comfort" who enables us to pass on the comfort we've received. That has to be the work of the Holy Spirit. And equally it's Him who turns our ashes into a crown of beauty and gives us a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair (Isaiah 61). It's certainly true that when we're going through suffering like depression or bereavement it doesn't lie in our power to drag ourselves into the light, not really. We may put on a brave face, but it always conceals a weeping heart. But God... "is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine". YIPPEE! 

"Weeping may last through the night,    
but joy comes with the morning."   
So I wait for you....

Keeping hope in the storm

I've not been aware of this picture by Rembrandt "Christ
in the Storm" before today when a friend from University
who has cancer pointed it out. He likes especially the
cruciform mast and the use of light and dark contrasts. 

Two years ago, at the New Wine festival, from where this blog originated, some folk from Exmouth prayed with me. Since then they have become good friends. Sadly we didn't see one couple again as they set off on an expedition of faith. They are visionaries and pioneers. Nicky and Mike Temple began a blog for their friends, called "P is for pilgrim". Nicky has just posted one entitled Stormy Weather, illustrated, I assume, by some of Mike's great photographs (Mike Temple Photography). These are extracts:
"I have been pondering the storm and its effects over the past few weeks, pondering how we, as followers of Jesus, navigate the storms of life, how are we to ride the 'perfect' storm? How do we remain in victory through the storm? What does it look like to come through the storm without losing hope and remaining steadfast?" 

She writes about Brendan (the Celtic saint) and Reepicheep (!) in their coracles launching into uncharted waters, having to ride the storms and trust in God's navigation for them. I don't know what storms Nicky is talking about in her case, but they're clearly real; she loves to call God "Papa" (the English equivalent of Jesus's Aramaic name for him, "Abba"). And she also talks about the childhood experience of having a rotten day at school.
"Our storms often feel like 'one of those days' in which we're just getting it all wrong and bumbling our way through the wind and rain. It is so easy for shame and heaviness to set in but Papa is there, right there, closer than air, taking our head in his gentle hands and saying "I'm so proud of you". He loves us through the storm, pure, simple, powerful love that keeps no record of wrongs. Religion might measure how well we navigate the storm, keeping score of good days and bad - ticks and crosses. That is not the heart of Papa God. He knows storms are a messy business! He loves us through the raging seas and is not concerned with our response. He is concerned with loving us more fiercely than raging circumstances and telling us how well we're doing, how amazing we are! He never once abandons us. 

"He has a plan, a great plan that He is forging through the storm. All storms end and as we keep hope, as we cling, as we yield through them we are transformed and transported to new places in Him. I'm not sure when  my stormy weather will finally break, but I know it will. I believe that Jesus is good always, faithful always and kind always. He knows my heart, He understands me fully and loves me beyond imagining. So I can wait, I can ask for rescue and I can trust knowing that the sun will come out."

As I remember, Reepicheep, the valiant mouse, in the Narnia Chronicle The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, sailed in his coracle on a huge wave straight into Aslan's country. Scary but infinitely worth it.
I recommend Nicky's post.  Thank you, Nicky.

Feel free to be real

"We've already seen the role of silence in prayer... But we still want to find words as well, because relationship works two ways... So for us, when our words strain and crack, we will find psalms to give expression to our inner thoughts" (I Choose Everything, chapter 10 'Praying truthfully'). I'm somewhat astonished and ashamed at my presumption in writing those words for publication, because, although I'm sure it's true, to be honest, the Psalms are by no means my prayer-book.

Which is one reason why I went to the seminar at New Wine given by David Rowe, the warden of Lee Abbey, on 'Praying the Psalms'. Again I was challenged and helped. (I don't know why I like being made uncomfortable by talks - maybe it's like the stimulation of a cold shower!) He quoted the American theologian, Walter Brueggemann, who categorises the psalms as psalms of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation. I've not yet got hold of his lectures, but this is the blurb: "Walter Brueggemann contends that the Psalms offer us words during the long seasons of our lives. They offer us words when our worlds are stable and ordered and well. They offer us words when our worlds are awful, filled with hopelessness and fear. They offer us words when our worlds have been miraculously transformed and all has become new. Each lecture explores a different season we live through and the language the Psalmists spoke to God when they were in that season also. Sometimes abrasive, sometimes euphoric, there is always a word offered that we may speak to God.

"Laments are of particular interest to Brueggemann. He comments how most laments have never been selected to be included in the lectionary. There are a couple which occur every three years, but an individual could attend church their whole life and never hear the majority of them. Brueggemann contends lament is important in our lives and in our conversations with the Almighty. He believes our speech before the throne doesn’t have to be nice, just honest. These prayers act as hope: things do not have to stay the way they are. God can make newness for us."

You can watch short clips on YouTube. How do we pray when we just feel desperate and miserable? What do we say when we've no praise in our hearts and actually have nothing nice to say to our heavenly Father? Do we just maintain a rude surly silence? Brueggemann talks about the "lament" Psalms . "Our speech before the throne doesn't have to be nice, just honest" - what a relief! How do we pray about the "riots"? How can the young rioters pray about their grievances? Brueggemann on Psalms of vengeance. Well, we and they are allowed to express our anger to God - which is why we should use all the Psalms in our worship. Otherwise we and they have two options: to act on our anger, or to deny it. Much better to bring it to the Divine Therapist and leave it to him. We can't shock him. He loves us too much.

As the Psalms repeat like a refrain, "His steadfast love endures for ever." Reality when we pray is OK. In fact it's essential. "These prayers act as hope: things do not have to stay the way they are. God can make newness for us." It's good news for the disabled, the ill, the housebound, who are tempted to self-pity, and for the grieving. But I guess it's as good for all God's family. The thing about being honest is you don't have to remember your previous lies!