“Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me; and anyone who welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”
(Matthew 10:40)
(Matthew 10:40)
There is always something new waiting for us a little further along the path we follow: some new angle on an old story; a new understanding of something of which we thought we already had a full grasp; a reminder of something we should never have forgotten; a renewed awareness of what our conscience has been telling us all the time. It may be some totally new and amazing revelation, or an unanticipated change of direction, but more often than not it is something which goes deeper rather than further: something which illuminates the multilayered nature of our spiritual life rather than the distance travelled during our living of it. It causes our spiritual knowledge and belief to be more clearly seen as being based upon truths viewed from only one viewpoint; what is already there is more fully revealed, and our inner response includes a salutary realization that we should have been able to recognize earlier the very thing of which we have now been made aware.
But believing that we should have grasped it earlier may be another part of our misplaced confidence in our own abilities. We are not as bright as we had thought; we are not as advanced in our understanding as we had believed. We are not only being given a new viewpoint, the particular newness of knowledge about something, but are being reminded of an underlying constant that always restricts our ability to see the more complete picture. It is not only carelessness, complacency and compromise that prevent our seeing more clearly; the brighter light shines within humility: it is our pride that blinds us. Couple our pride with our busyness, and with our failure to live in a minute-to-minute realization of the relevance of the spiritual to every moment of our lives, and we have our own individual reasons for stopping and waiting and praying somewhere close to the edge of our seemingly reliable and complete spiritual life. We have our own comprehension of why Jesus spoke so often in parables: multilayered stories in which everyone can find an understanding in keeping with their own lives, and with their own spiritual and intellectual capacities.
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Whenever such a moment arises it can bring about a quiet adjustment to our thinking and to our sense of direction, and a deeper appreciation both of where we are in relation to others, and of what we are doing or failing to do in those relationships. It is an unobtrusive prompting: a gentle nudge that may steer us to an awareness we need but which we are in danger of missing.
I found myself in one of those moments recently; a trio of feelings blended into one grace-filled reality: it was humbling, it was an awakening, and it elicited praise and thanksgiving for having been awakened. With my usual slowness, I saw the potential in the situation that had arisen only several minutes after the event, though I now believe that delayed recognition to have been an important part of what happened.
The moment occurred at the end of a conversation with two Jehovah’s Witnesses who had called at my home. One of them has been here twice before, and we had talked for quite a while on those occasions. When there are no pressing matters to prevent it, I am happy to talk with anyone who has God on their mind, and I believe we all enjoyed our discussions. I was happy to see her return again, this time with someone who had not been here before.
The conversation became discussion; the discussion became persuasion, and the persuasion gradually became more forceful. I was interested in their way of talking to me, and it seemed increasingly likely that the lady who was new to me had been brought along to ratchet up the approach: to apply a greater pressure which became a clear message that I was not on the right path.
Whenever such a moment arises it can bring about a quiet adjustment to our thinking and to our sense of direction, and a deeper appreciation both of where we are in relation to others, and of what we are doing or failing to do in those relationships. It is an unobtrusive prompting: a gentle nudge that may steer us to an awareness we need but which we are in danger of missing.
I found myself in one of those moments recently; a trio of feelings blended into one grace-filled reality: it was humbling, it was an awakening, and it elicited praise and thanksgiving for having been awakened. With my usual slowness, I saw the potential in the situation that had arisen only several minutes after the event, though I now believe that delayed recognition to have been an important part of what happened.
The moment occurred at the end of a conversation with two Jehovah’s Witnesses who had called at my home. One of them has been here twice before, and we had talked for quite a while on those occasions. When there are no pressing matters to prevent it, I am happy to talk with anyone who has God on their mind, and I believe we all enjoyed our discussions. I was happy to see her return again, this time with someone who had not been here before.
The conversation became discussion; the discussion became persuasion, and the persuasion gradually became more forceful. I was interested in their way of talking to me, and it seemed increasingly likely that the lady who was new to me had been brought along to ratchet up the approach: to apply a greater pressure which became a clear message that I was not on the right path.
“Why do you continue to be part of an organization (the Catholic Church) which so clearly is not teaching you the truth?”
I had suggested in previous conversations that perhaps they should be spending time with those who have no awareness of God rather than with me, and I repeated this again. The response was a definite no, and it seemed that my willingness to give time to them and listen to them had been taken as a sign of potential willingness to join them. I am well aware that every such visit, to my home or that of anyone else, is the first stage of a definite and preset agenda. My willingness to talk with them is a natural expression of my belief that people can never begin to understand each other if they are not willing to hear each other’s spiritual stories first-hand. This is how we can reach the point where we may really begin to talk to each other, whoever we are.
I found a disturbing rigidity to the Witnesses’ approach once the initial niceties have been dealt with, and especially when repeated meetings and the passage of time have created a degree of friendly relationship. It seems that progress can only be made in one predetermined direction, that being the one for which they seem to have been programmed and “sent forth”. The ladies I have been talking with are cheerful and pleasant, but when they felt the need to focus on what they had come for they showed signs of being under considerable pressure, both from without and within: pressure from others in the organisation to get out there and spread their carefully confined beliefs, and pressure from themselves to conform to those requirements, perhaps in order to maintain their standing within their own local and wider organisation. These pressures were manifested as a form of pressure on me, the person being visited, and are no doubt at least part of the reason why some people are not particularly welcoming towards them. There is little scope in this approach for hearing the stories of those they visit.
This most recent visit lasted for one and a half hours – standing in the garden all the while once we had walked around it – and while I believe they had been sent forth, as it were, not by God the Father: Yahweh: Jehovah; not by Jesus Christ, nor by the Holy Spirit, but by men within their organisation who maintain the rigidity of their unalterable agenda, I had been enabled simply to be there to listen and talk with them. Towards the end of their visit one of them mentioned St Paul’s experience on the Damascus road; an unexpected move away from most of what had gone before. I responded by saying that my own small experience was enough for me, and briefly described my being emptied and gradually refilled, the effect this had on me, and the following experience of walking with Jesus who became my constant companion. I explained that it was my ongoing relationship with Him and my awareness of the Holy Spirit in my life that had made me who I am today; that had filled me to overflowing and placed me somewhere in the stream of God’s eternal presence.
I had said this simply because it seemed right at the time, and it was only afterwards that I realized I had been speaking of something which – if I understand correctly – is not part of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ experience. It was the only time there seemed no real pressure to interrupt, to override, to correct or counter what I was saying.
Having said that I would know what to do by the prompting I received, by the recognition of things that were more than mere coincidences, and, if I was going wrong, by my conscience, I was asked, “Have you considered that this may be such a moment? That our being here may be more than a coincidence?” That was a good thought with which to leave me: one that fitted well with my way of thinking; and my attention being focussed on that possibility resulted in my giving no answer.
I had suggested in previous conversations that perhaps they should be spending time with those who have no awareness of God rather than with me, and I repeated this again. The response was a definite no, and it seemed that my willingness to give time to them and listen to them had been taken as a sign of potential willingness to join them. I am well aware that every such visit, to my home or that of anyone else, is the first stage of a definite and preset agenda. My willingness to talk with them is a natural expression of my belief that people can never begin to understand each other if they are not willing to hear each other’s spiritual stories first-hand. This is how we can reach the point where we may really begin to talk to each other, whoever we are.
I found a disturbing rigidity to the Witnesses’ approach once the initial niceties have been dealt with, and especially when repeated meetings and the passage of time have created a degree of friendly relationship. It seems that progress can only be made in one predetermined direction, that being the one for which they seem to have been programmed and “sent forth”. The ladies I have been talking with are cheerful and pleasant, but when they felt the need to focus on what they had come for they showed signs of being under considerable pressure, both from without and within: pressure from others in the organisation to get out there and spread their carefully confined beliefs, and pressure from themselves to conform to those requirements, perhaps in order to maintain their standing within their own local and wider organisation. These pressures were manifested as a form of pressure on me, the person being visited, and are no doubt at least part of the reason why some people are not particularly welcoming towards them. There is little scope in this approach for hearing the stories of those they visit.
This most recent visit lasted for one and a half hours – standing in the garden all the while once we had walked around it – and while I believe they had been sent forth, as it were, not by God the Father: Yahweh: Jehovah; not by Jesus Christ, nor by the Holy Spirit, but by men within their organisation who maintain the rigidity of their unalterable agenda, I had been enabled simply to be there to listen and talk with them. Towards the end of their visit one of them mentioned St Paul’s experience on the Damascus road; an unexpected move away from most of what had gone before. I responded by saying that my own small experience was enough for me, and briefly described my being emptied and gradually refilled, the effect this had on me, and the following experience of walking with Jesus who became my constant companion. I explained that it was my ongoing relationship with Him and my awareness of the Holy Spirit in my life that had made me who I am today; that had filled me to overflowing and placed me somewhere in the stream of God’s eternal presence.
I had said this simply because it seemed right at the time, and it was only afterwards that I realized I had been speaking of something which – if I understand correctly – is not part of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ experience. It was the only time there seemed no real pressure to interrupt, to override, to correct or counter what I was saying.
Having said that I would know what to do by the prompting I received, by the recognition of things that were more than mere coincidences, and, if I was going wrong, by my conscience, I was asked, “Have you considered that this may be such a moment? That our being here may be more than a coincidence?” That was a good thought with which to leave me: one that fitted well with my way of thinking; and my attention being focussed on that possibility resulted in my giving no answer.
Having asked me to say a prayer for them, they left with the intention of returning later in the summer.
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I am now sure they had meant me to pray for God to reveal to me His purpose in sending them here, but I had not heard their request in that way. I told them I would of course pray for them, and would have done so anyway after they had gone. Having been asked (as I thought) I almost prayed for them there and then.
But that is for when the time is right: for when they return. It will be part of what God wants me to give them: part of the reason for their visits: part of God’s purpose in sending them to me. He wants them to have a living relationship with the risen Jesus, the Son, and to be guided by His Spirit; through that relationship they will have a previously unimagined relationship with the Father, the very same Jehovah for whom they are so eager and willing to witness. In short, they will have life in all its fullness.
I had not recognized the potential in the situation until after they had gone, and that was how God willed it. Without that delay I may have moved on, I may have prayed for them with them, and they may not have returned. The time was not right. I was held back, and the situation has been given time to mature. Instead of simply not being displeased to see them when they return, I am now eagerly awaiting that day.
I am now sure they had meant me to pray for God to reveal to me His purpose in sending them here, but I had not heard their request in that way. I told them I would of course pray for them, and would have done so anyway after they had gone. Having been asked (as I thought) I almost prayed for them there and then.
But that is for when the time is right: for when they return. It will be part of what God wants me to give them: part of the reason for their visits: part of God’s purpose in sending them to me. He wants them to have a living relationship with the risen Jesus, the Son, and to be guided by His Spirit; through that relationship they will have a previously unimagined relationship with the Father, the very same Jehovah for whom they are so eager and willing to witness. In short, they will have life in all its fullness.
I had not recognized the potential in the situation until after they had gone, and that was how God willed it. Without that delay I may have moved on, I may have prayed for them with them, and they may not have returned. The time was not right. I was held back, and the situation has been given time to mature. Instead of simply not being displeased to see them when they return, I am now eagerly awaiting that day.
May something new be here for them when they return, and may our next meeting become one of those moments for them: something deeper, something brighter, something more complete: a new awareness and understanding.
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“...and we shall come to him and make a home in him.”
(John 14:23)
(John 14:23)
