There are deep movements of our hearts, that in the normal course of events, we are often unaware of. They surface during times of change or transition. They surface when things that we have relied on for a sense of meaning, are no longer there. We might choose to remove ourselves from them for a season (eg. a sabbatical, regular retreats); they might be removed due to a normal transition in life (eg. leaving home, getting married, having kids, kids leaving home, retiring) or they might be removed due to unforeseen circumstances of our lives (eg. bereavement, losing our job, divorce).
Let me tell you a story I told last Sunday at church. My sabbatical was in two parts. The first a course and holiday. The second part was 11 weeks, based at home, but with no emails, tasks, things to organise, sermons to preach, people to see, things to plan etc. The focus was prayer, scripture reflection, study, reading and personal reflection.
The first few days of this eleven week period I sorted out my out-of-control inbox, cleared and sorted piles of paperwork, and drafted a daily and weekly plan of prayer, reading and study for these 11 weeks. By the end of the third day, the one thing I hadn’t done, was the very thing I was there to do: pray. Nor open my Bible.
One of the things I learnt from this, is that time is rarely the reason why I don’t pray. Desire is.
But I learnt something deeper from this story. It revealed something about my heart. I learnt about some of the searching questions I have about God and myself, which rarely punctuate my consciousness, but when other things are stripped away they were glaringly obviously to me.
This Sunday at Community Church, I will talk about uncovering some of the deep questions, and how bringing them to the surface can reveal why we don’t pray.
Tags: prayer
- Part 1 – the sermon teaser.
- Part 2 – the depths of our desires – the first part of what I shared on Sunday.
The second part of Sunday’s Sermon was Mary and Martha (Lk 10:38-42).
Martha and Mary are found in other gospel stories, principally in John 11 and 12. We see them as part of the community of Jesus, his friends and as people who trust him. Martha shows remarkable faith in Jesus, when her brother Lazarus died. Mary’s grief moves Jesus to action. Mary shows huge devotion to Jesus in anointing his feet. Martha gets a meal ready for the disciples, and there is no hint that wasn’t appreciated.
If it wasn’t for this passage in Luke’s gospel, Martha wouldn’t have the bad press she has got in church circles.
In fact, when you start delving in this passage, she seems as though she is a good disciple of Jesus too. Perhaps we need to revisit the dualistic interpretations of this passage, that seem to force us to choose between the serving Martha or contemplative Mary?
Martha “received” Jesus, as he was travelling with his disciples. This word had been used earlier in Lk 10, when the 72 were sent out in pairs without money. People who “received” them, gave them food to eat, a place to stay, but also identified with Jesus and his mission. So Martha’s action was much more than opening her home to Jesus. It was identifying with the mission of Jesus, showing her to be an important member of Jesus’ community.
Martha was however “distracted” by all the “preparations that had to be made” (NIV). Other Bible translations make the ‘interpretation’ even clearer: Martha was busy preparing a meal. However, the Greek doesn’t actually have any word for meal here. The word that is used is “diakonia” – service or ministry. This word most often is used by Luke for ministry or leadership within the community of Jesus. It might include in serving food, but if we make this interpretation we are reading that into the text.
Could it be that Martha is “distracted”, not by the meal preparations, but by the business of the mission and community of Jesus? Whatever, the heart of her problem is that Mary is not pulling her weight. Martha’s perspective is that she is doing all the work, and so the source of her distraction is a conflict with Mary.
The word “distracted” is a little difficult to translate, but it has connotations of being pulled away. Martha has lost her sense of centeredness.
Martha does, what all good disciples of Jesus should do at this point: she prays. She asks for Jesus’ help and intervention. She asks Jesus to enlist Mary’s help.
I love what Jesus does at this point: he takes the conversation to another level. Martha is complaining about her sister not pulling her weight, and how she is doing all the work. But Jesus doesn’t respond at that level at all … he starts talking about her anxiety. Martha, says Jesus, your problem isn’t really your conflict with Mary. Your problem is really your stress and anxiety. This is what is pulling you off center. This is what is causing you to be out of sync. And, offers Jesus, the very thing that Mary is doing, is exactly what you need to be doing, to get back to the source of this mission and ministry you are involved with.
Jesus isn’t offering a choice for disciples: either action or contemplation. He is offering Martha a way out from her stress.
In Luke’s gospel, we see an ebb and flow between mission, and returning to the source of that mission. Just a few verses earlier, the 72 return from their mission, amazed at what they were doing. Jesus immediately draws them back to the source: rejoice that your names are written in heaven.
Jesus invites us, too, to an ebb and flow of action and contemplation. Mission in our workplaces, colleges, communities and streets. Return the source of the mission, to draw life from Jesus and remember whose mission it is anyway!
I suggested on Sunday, using “imaginative contemplation” with the Scripture this week. Each day read the text, and imagine yourself in the story, perhaps as a different character each time (eg Mary, Matha, a disciple, a onlooker). What do you feel? See? Hear? What is going on inside you, and the story plays out? Can this Scripture help us tap into our deepest desires?
Tags: Mary and Martha, prayer
Or “Why don’t we don’t we Pray? – Part 2
Part 1 can be read here. This is a short summary of the first part of what I said yesterday (Sunday 13th September) at church. The audio will be available from our website in a day or two.
“There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else.” CS Lewis. The Problem of Pain.
Our desires often seem to ebb and flow, but it perhaps more helpful to see we have different desires competing for our attention and to gain the upper hand. We may want to ask the girl out (a desire that flows in one direction) competes with the desire not to face potential rejection. We may want to get fit by going to the gym, but we may prefer to watch the TV instead. We will end up acting on the strongest desire.
So I think people of faith do want to pray. They know the value. But often, we also want to do other things (stay in bed, have the radio on in the car, read a paper on the bus, watch TV, have a coffee with friends) which compete with our desire to pray.
However, I believe, deep in the heart of every human being is longing for something Divine. Something beyond ourselves. To be loved and to love. To be secure and held. To have value and purpose; adventure and significance. To be part of a world where there is no suffering or pain. These “deepest longings” are often untapped and lie dormant, but speak of our being made in the image of God.
These desires are dangerous. To long for something deeply opens us up to pain. The longing will inevitably not be fulfilled to some extent (this side of heaven anyway). It is much safer to keep these wild longings buried away, where they can’t cause so much trouble. But in the process we lose something of ourselves, and what we were created for.
These deepest longings can’t be discovered by our rational mind, which is bad news for many of us raised in our terribly rational western world. But they can be tapped into through music, story, poems, art, images, beauty, creation, scripture and prayer. We can learn to recognise these deep longings, and as they poke their head above the surface of our lives, and if we nurture them, they can become powerful motivating forces for prayer.
The desire to pray (and for God) resides within every human being. We just need to let it out.
Tags: prayer
I am inviting people to pray. Or perhaps, more accurately, I am inviting people to learn to pray. I think Jesus is inviting us to learn to pray.
The disciples, good Jews one and all, and therefore men who knew about prayer got around the one they called master, who knew how to pray. He didn’t just talk about it. He did it. And after a while of hanging around this man, they realised that you can know a lot about prayer, but not really know that much about prayer. So they asked Jesus: “Teach us to pray”.
Prayer is really only learnt as we do it. Regularly. So it becomes part of us like breathing. If I sound like an expert I am not. I am like the disciples, praying that Jesus would teach me to pray.
So here is my first offering in how to establish a rhythm of daily prayer. Not how to learn to pray; no that comes as we pray. But we have to start praying to learn to pray.
So suggestion number 1: start small.
Many years ago, a guy came to church, and spoke on prayer, and if I remember correctly, he suggested an hour a day, using the Lord’s prayer as a pattern. Monday morning came, and alarm clock set an hour earlier, I spent an hour in prayer. I think I lasted until the Wednesday, when I went back to bed after after 10 minutes. The speaker’s book probably still sits on my bookshelves, not open since that day.
Sometime later, I read a book by John White (The Fight), and in that book he suggested praying for 15 minutes a day. That I can do, I thought. And I did. The funny thing was, that 15 minutes sometimes turned into much longer and I regularly found myself praying for an hour (I was a student … a theology one at that – I didn’t have many lectures)!
So start small, with something manageable. The amount of time really isn’t the issue. Stilling ourselves in the presence of God is.
Why don’t we pray?
If I knew the answer to that one, I could write a book, become famous …
Bill Hybels did it, in 1988, when no-one had heard of Bill Hybels or Willowcreek. “Too Busy not to Pray”. I was a student at the time. And I was too busy to read the book. It still sits on my bookshelf, mostly unread. Too busy to read the book, we joked at the time. And too busy to pray, we often still say.
“Prayer takes time” says Bill Hybels, “and we are so busy!”. Time and prayer. We link them together, but somehow prayer rarely gets time.
But here is something I have learnt this summer: time is never the reason we don’t pray. Maybe I should soften that slightly: time is rarely the reason we don’t pray. There may be the odd day, when we really don’t have a moment. But I suggest these days are odd. They aren’t the norm. My point still stands. Time is rarely the issue. It is a convenient excuse.
The issue is desire.
You may think you know what I am going to say now. Our desires are wrong. We need to stifle our desire to watch TV, read magazines, check facebook, or read blogs, so that we all pray more. Or that we all need to desire Jesus more, to conjure up some passion for the Lord.
Well actually no. This Sunday, at Community Church, I will suggest that we don’t trust our desires enough, let them out, let them loose, let them run wild and see where they take us. I think they might just lead us to prayer…
PS. If you want to do some reading beforehand, you could read a very familiar story in Lk 10 38-42
Last Sunday, I invited our congregation to practice the spiritual discipline of daily prayer. You can read a summary of my talk in the previous post (somehow the words on the computer screen don’t have quite the life that they did as I spoke on Sunday!).
Towards the end of the gathering, there were a couple of thoughts that were shared. I hope my repeating them here does them justice.
Leslie H. came forward, having felt as she was getting ready to come to church, that the morning gathering could be a very significant one in the life of the church. She then sensed that individuals were walking around fountains being refreshed and healed.
Alan C. then spoke about the sign pictured here, that he had seen in a local funeral parlour (do we still use that word?), which had amused him. But he sensed that this Sunday could be a monumental service for us. But monuments take a long time to build. It is a long term thing, not something that happens overnight.
Reflecting on both these words, I sense they clarify something important. I love the image of fountains. I speaks to me of refreshment and stillness. Space. A chance to stop the fervent activity of most our lives. This wasn’t some call to deep intercessory prayer, although prayer for others may well be part of what emerges. This was an invitation to daily stop at the feet of Jesus, and listen. Be still and know.
Secondly, it was not designed to suggest some instant transformation. Not some quick fix. Alan’s thoughts captured this nicely. So often we give up on prayer because we do not get the results we want. But prayer, that becomes a rhythm, a habit, and an integrated part of lives, will transform, as the persistent love of Jesus invades our lives. If last Sunday (or this, or the one after that…) inspires someone to make daily prayer part of their life, then it truly will have been a monumental service.
Tags: prayer
After my sermon teaser last week, perhaps I should write how I have found an answer to the question I posed? In that post, I asked what you would answer, if Jesus stood before you, and asked: “What do you want me for to do for you?”
I am sure there are lots of answers, each probably unique to the person that Jesus is asking the question. For me, I found the answer in an ancient poem, originally written by a King of an ancient nation, but later probably used as part of their liturgy. The King, initially declares his confidence and trust in the Lord: He is light (to dispel darkness), salvation (or deliverance) and refuge (or stronghold). In this poem, we then see immediately the context that required such confidence: evil men were advancing; enemies were attacking him; armies besieging him; war was breaking out.
If I was in that situation, I would be praying for victory, that Lord would smite my enemies, that I would be delivered! But this ancient King didn’t pray that all – he prayed:
One thing I ask of the LORD,
this is what I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
This King seemed to be saying that, in the midst of these advancing armies, the most important thing he could pray, was to dwell in the presence of the Lord – to live permanently in God’s presence. You can read the rest of the poem in Psalm 27.
We (mostly) don’t have literal enemies who are intent on killing us. But we are surrounded by things that sap life, real life from us. Jesus offers us life, that is found as we become less angry and reconciled with others, when we respect others, remain faithful to our spouse and friends even through difficulties, when we learn to love people even when they hate us, as we forgive and trust and don’t judge etc. This is not the way of our culture, and there enough voices to listen to, that would seek to rob us of this life that Jesus offers.
And so on Sunday, I invited our congregation to a radical concept: daily prayer. Daily dwelling in the presence in the presence of the Lord.
This isn’t some quick fix, or instant life-changing concept. But it will change us over time, as we learn to be still, to stop, to listen, to receive, and be transformed in the presence of Jesus. As I have practiced this ancient discipline over the summer, I have found gradually and slowly, that Jesus is transforming my heart, and somehow the surrounding enemies that seek to steal the heaven-on-earth life don’t have quite the same power they once seemed to have.
So when Jesus stands before me, what do I ask him? That daily I might come into his presence and be transformed. That is real life…
If you want to listen to the sermon, you can listen here.
So I am back! I had thought I might spend more time blogging, but in the end there were others things that I was doing that seemed more important. So here is a summary of the way in which I spent my time:
- At the beginning, I had a week-long course on conflict transformation, run by the London Mennonite Centre. I blogged some of my reflections in a previous post.
- A few days at home, were followed by a wonderful two week holiday near Ullapool. We had some pretty reasonable weather; some great exploring, climbing, walking in the surrounding area. It was a great family holiday, and my Mum and Dad drove all the way from near London, to spend a couple of days with us, partly to celebrate my upcoming 40th Birthday.
- On our return to Edinburgh in mid-June, I was at Luke & Naomi’s wedding (a couple from our community), followed by a great dinner party with a few friends to celebrate my 40th. We had some brilliant food, with a gorgeous (and really expensive) rib of beef for the main course. I had intended to do something else to celebrate over the summer, but time seems to have slipped by!
- By this point, it was four weeks since I had been at work, and I felt physically refreshed. I would have done the course and holiday in any case, so this seemed to me to be “real” start to my sabbatical. I wasn’t coming home to loads of emails, and things to do. I had eleven weeks stretching before with no set agenda, no demands and tasks, and the day my own to do as I wished.
- I started this time with a plan for the days and the week, which in the end, I tweaked a bit, but found the major components stayed the same.
- There were four major components to my weekly rhythm: prayer & reflection; reading & study; exercise and fellowship. These are broadly based on a monastic rhythm.
- I had intended to a have day of prayer each week, but in the end prayer was a greater component (at the start) of each day than I anticipated, so I only had 3 days of prayer during the eleven weeks.
- Every week, I went to New College Library (the divinity faculty library of Edinburgh University) for most of one day. It was the first time I had been in the library since I had graduated 16 years previously! These days were one of the highlights of my sabbatical – I intend retaining this practice now I am back at work.
- Each week I went to the gym 2 or 3 times a week. This was the first serious exercise I have done for a long time (apart from cycling around the centre of town a bit), and I feel hugely different for being fitter. I also intend making this a regular part of my weekly rhythm when back at work.
- I spent quite a proportion of my time reading books (on leadership, gifts and strengths, preaching and communication and a number of Eugene Peterson books!) and on personal reflection. I also spend a fair amount of time meditating and praying Scripture – mostly in a few passages, returning to them regularly. The key passages I spent time meditating on were: Psalm 23, 24, 27, 51; Mt 5; Lk 10:38-42; Lk 15:12-32.
- We had intended on visiting other churches, but in the end we only went to two. In the end, going to unfamiliar churches with 3 small children, isn’t easy, and we found it difficult to engage with the service while fulfilling our parental responsibilities. In the end, we spend our weekends doing jobs in the garden, visiting our wider family, seeing friends, and hanging out together a family.
- I basically spent Monday to Friday during the day in prayer, reading, study etc. I would sometimes see some people during the evenings and we enjoyed having two days off over a weekend!
- Part of my prayer for the sabbatical time was to have a renewed sense of God’s call and vocation, and to be clearer about my priorities in the coming years. God is answering this prayer for me.
- My sense, too, in coming in to this season of withdrawing (retreat) from work and all it demands (and joys!) was that it was more about what God would do in me, than anything I might accomplish. I didn’t realise how true this would be, nor how profoundly the change that I needed and God wanted to do. But that story is (possibly) for another post…
Tags: Sabbatical
So Jesus is standing before you, and he is asking a question: “What do you want me to do for you?” What do you reply?
It seems such an innocent question. But it penetrates deeply to our core. This is no ordinary offer of help. This is Jesus. And he is offering to do something for you. Anything. You just need to name it.
This was the question that a man, many years ago, was asked by Jesus. He had an immediate answer for Jesus: “I want to see” for he was blind and therefore had no money, wasn’t able to work, and had to rely on begging to just to survive. He was the poorest of the poor, in a society that had a lot of poor people. Jesus spoke some words, and the man was able to see. You can read this story in Lk 18:35-43.
Four years ago, while on holiday in France, I was meditating on this Scripture. I had a strong sense that Jesus was asking me that question: it was a serious question that he was looking for an answer for. He might even grant what I asked for! But what should I ask for? The more I thought about it, the more I realised what a penetrating question it was. And most of the answers I could think of, seemed so superficial, so shallow, so transitory. The question revealed something: the desires of my heart, and what I saw there was more carnal that I cared to admit.
So I return to my question: Jesus is standing in front of you, and asking you a question: “What do you want me to do for you?” What would you reply? What would you ask Jesus to do?
It has taken me four years to figure out an answer. But this summer, I finally settled on an answer, hoping Jesus had been patient with me, as he waited for an answer. It turns out, that I wasn’t the first to ask this of him. What did I ask him? Well for that, you will need to come to Community Church this Sunday (6th September) at 10.30am to find out…
Last week, in the first week of my sabbatical, I attended what I had been calling a “conflict resolution” course.
On the first day, I realised I hadn’t come to a conflict resolution course at all, but a “conflict transformation” course. Now that might seem like semantics, but there is the wor(l)d of difference.
In many circles (perhaps especially business), there is discussion around “managing conflict”. The idea is to effectively minimise conflict, contain it, and eventually sweep it away, preferably without having to face it. Conflict Resolution is a second understanding of reducing conflict within organisations. The danger here, is that there is somehow the prospect that all conflict can be resolved, some unanimity found, a common agreement. But that is not always the case, and potentially can lead to the suppression of conflict within an organisation. What we were being offered was “conflict transformation” … a way of transforming the conflict from a potential danger to potential opportunity, and in the process transforming the individuals involved and their relationship. Resolution may never be achieved, but transformation can be, and even if resolution is achieved, transformation takes it deeper.
And the course was certainly transformational . At the beginning we were invited to draw an image that depicted conflict for us. Most of us, myself included, drew something with negative connotations. By the end of the week, we were all invited again to draw an image, and I certainly felt much more positive towards the idea of conflict, realising that I have some skills to engage with conflict constructively, that it is a normal part of being human and engaging with other humans, and it doesn’t have to be destructive, but can be constructive.
Of course, conflict can escalate quickly, and can be devastating. I have some experience of this. But conflict suppression is no antidote for bad handling of conflict. Churches are experts at both, but we should be world leaders at transforming conflict. We have the model and the teaching of Jesus, and the work of the Spirit today, that can bring us to healthy engagement with conflict.
One of our values at a church community is “celebrating diversity”. We certainly have some diversity, and resist attempts at conformity. But I am not sure we have learnt to celebrate that diversity – a culture within our community that encourages difference, learns from others perspectives that are different from ours, embraces others, and engages constructively with conflict.
I need to learn to draw out the voices of people who see things differently, who disagree with me or the prevailing wisdom, who have alternative perspectives to share. This will enrich us, and help us to discern together God’s presence and leading, and respect & engage everyone within our community.
And this was just from session 1! More reflections to follow.
If you had to draw an image of conflict what would that be? Do you thing conflict could ever be constructive?
Tags: Conflict Transformation
