Wednesday 28 January 2009

The Catholic in me (6)

We are all part of the manifestation of Christ’s Church as it is today. We are the Body of Christ: we are the Christian Church. By ‘we’ I do not mean only those of us who are seen to be members of a church community or congregation, regardless of denomination, but also those who are beyond the easily recognized boundaries of mutual belief and compliance; everyone who has the slightest degree of faith or interest in Jesus and why so many follow Him.
Whatever our point of view and however unassailable we believe the particular pinnacle upon which we stand, we remain united by that fact in spite of having lost sight of the truth that underpins it. Clearly we are not the one body our Lord prayed that we should be (John 17:20-23). Equally clearly, we are not united in the ways we ourselves know we should be, even if many of us do keep that knowledge suppressed within our own consciousness and out of sight of others.

I am a Catholic, but I do not cling to every little thing thought to be Catholic or believed to be so by others within the Church. Still less do I cling to those things which, in the eyes of many outside the Catholic Church, are mistakenly seen as being part of the essential beliefs, worship and conduct of Catholics and thus part of what being a Roman Catholic is all about.
Some of these observed actions and attitudes are based upon teachings of the Church, but much of the understanding of that teaching, as well as the appreciation of the extent and limits of that teaching, have become diffused among the unsurprising attractions and devotions that seem to be embedded among so many of the world’s Catholic faithful. The distortions involved in some of these forms of individual devotion and peripheral belief are, in reality, far less significant than they appear to be, particularly when it is borne in mind that the apparent significance is as seen by those who are not Roman Catholics. There is no way of avoiding the fact that all such observers, but for the divisions and separations of the last five hundred years, would otherwise have been Catholic or not Christian at all. However much in need of reform the Church may then have been, and if, as I believe, the Reformation was not just inevitable but essential, and not just essential but Spirit led, the eventual results of the turmoil were not inspired by the Spirit of God. The splits, further divisions and fragmentation of the Church were brought about through strength of human feeling, not through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Much that gave rise to that irrepressible strength of feeling was inspired by the Spirit, but, then as now, the individuals most able to discern the Spirit’s presence and leading were unable to prevent themselves running ahead with their own feelings and assessments of truth, losing track of the Spirit’s guidance in the process.
We easily fail to understand or misunderstand even those who share our denominational allegiance and church community, and who are therefore thought to share our beliefs and our values, but failing to comprehend the thoughts, beliefs and actions of those who do not share our background, routines and mindset seems to come naturally to all of us; it appears to be part of the human condition.

Somewhere here is the heart of what Jesus came to change in us, in our lives and in the world. The continuation of God’s presence among us in the form of His Spirit works towards the ultimate aim of uniting the whole world in recognition and appreciation of God as reality for us all. Unity is at the centre of all Christ desires for and from mankind.

Here I find myself struggling not to use one of the many words that can lose the attention of the reader or listener. Jesus is our Redeemer. But what does that mean? What is redemption?
There are so many words used by Christians that are distinctly unhelpful to themselves as well as to those who are on the fringes of the crowd, looking and listening but not yet sure enough to follow Jesus. Some are rarely heard or read in any other context, but others are relatively normal words which have a similarly distancing effect by being used in unusual ways. In other words, the Christian context itself causes confusion and a sort of ‘lost in translation’ vagueness even when the more esoteric words are avoided.
I believe this holds many devout Christians back in their journeys towards a living faith as opposed to the learned and habitual routine which may contain little understanding of what we are meant to contribute to Christ’s Church and what He wills that we derive from being members of it.

Jesus came to redeem the world; we have heard it so often but what on earth does it mean? Literally, what on Earth does it mean?
Trying to understand without anchoring that understanding in the world in which we live will lead us nowhere; at least it will not lead us to the correct interpretation of what Christ has done for us, and that is what matters. If we do not appreciate mankind’s need of God’s influence in our lives we remain oblivious to our most essential needs and to our potential both as individuals and as a community.
My own understanding of ‘redemption’ has come slowly, through the gradual unfolding of my own awareness of myself as someone loved by God and in some way important to His plan, not for my own life but for His Church and for the redemption of all mankind. And yet I would still hesitate to define the word. I still regard it as one of many that have the ability to confuse, to distance and to confound the very people I long to bring in from the fringes – from the very edge - closer to Jesus and into the intimate vulnerability that allows the Spirit of God to grasp and transform lives.
I well remember being asked by someone who played an essential part in my journey to a real living faith, ‘Do you feel redeemed?’ At the time I was unable to say that I did; I did not feel anything. But even if I had been aware of some sort of feeling, I could not have answered ‘Yes’, as I did not really understand the question; I did not really understand the word. Why? Because it is one that cannot be understood by being superficially aware of the meaning: by having a vague idea of what it means based on its occurrence in church writings and teachings, and on an automatic absorption of things Christian which may have begun as a child. It seems that it remains a word the meaning of which I may never grasp sufficiently to enable me to use it with confidence. Despite being comfortable with reading and hearing the word, it remains one I rarely use.
But – and it is a big but – dwelling on this and recalling the asking of the question has clarified an awareness for me.
Many years have passed, but the continued presence of the Holy Spirit in my life and my slow progress towards a fuller appreciation of what Jesus has done for me have brought me to a place where I can quietly but joyfully answer, ‘Yes ..., I feel redeemed.’

I am redeemed, and I know it through the experience of living a life within the unity that is redemption: the redemption and the unity which are at the heart of Christ’s gift to mankind.
Perhaps my continued difficulty with using the word is not so much due to a lack of understanding, as to the fact that I understand only too well. The enormity of what has been done for me makes me cringe inwardly at my sinfulness, my lack of humility, love and compassion. I, unfaithful and insignificant as I am, have been redeemed!

The combination of a sometimes anguished conscience overlain with constant joy perpetuates my feeling of personal redemption. It is part of what binds me to the Catholic Church, but it is also a major part of what prevents me from finding any contradiction in my will to bring others closer to Christ without necessarily leading them into Catholicism. We must each do that which we are called to do: no more and no less; beyond that we must allow the Holy Spirit the freedom of our lives, and be blown wherever He wills.

‘Do not try to understand things that are too difficult for you,
or try to discover what is beyond your powers.
Concentrate on what has been assigned you,
you have no need to worry over mysteries.’
(Ecclesiasticus 3:21-22)
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Sunday 18 January 2009

Disunity


We are now in the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, and this year marks one hundred years of its being celebrated in the way it is today.
I am not instinctively stirred by days, events, gatherings or pronouncements designated for the commemoration, celebration or remembrance of something, however worthy of note the particular focus may be. It is not that I do not value or appreciate whatever may be the centre of attention, but that I derive most benefit from, and am best able to give of myself to something when I do so as a result of following my own leadings and promptings rather than the directions of any organized authority or organization.
I may find myself led to contradict those words by my actions, but when that occurs it will be because I am so led or prompted or drawn to respond by something other than the instructions or beckoning of men.

Christian unity, however, is an aim which should become unavoidable for every one of us, and though it is a long time since I attended an ecumenical service during this week, I am always drawn to an awareness of the immense sense of need for such unity in individuals throughout the Christian world. It is a need that goes far deeper than any expression of it coming from particular church hierarchies or groups of churches already striving to work together. It is an increasingly dull ache that is building within the hearts of so many of us, beginning to feel like emotional pain: a form of grief. It can bring us to a point where we feel as though something within us is going to crack, leaving us dissolving into silence and tears. It can take us and shake us, either beautifully or painfully, in the same way that beauty of sight or sound, of word or thought can make us more complete and whole by momentarily seeming to fragment us.

I recently came across something written by Fr. Tom Norris in 2002, which not only deserves re-reading and needs to be thought about again today, but also sits well with my own undirected but unquenchable desire for unity. Rather than attempt putting my own words together in a far less meaningful way, I reproduce his thoughts here. They convey something we all need to hear.


‘The Saviour of the world and the Lord of history has left us as his final testament, “May they all be one” (Jn 17:21 ). He wants our unity, he desires it, has suffered and prayed for it. Whoever shares that desire is close to his heart and he calls them blessed. The deepest desire of his Heart and the imperative of unity rhyme.
The fact of the Reformation profoundly marks the second half of the second millennium. Up until then the Church in the West was one. At the time of the Reformation, within half a century in fact, this unity was greatly damaged. Why did the Holy Spirit permit all these divisions? This raises the question of causes. There are two possible answers to this question. The first is the more negative one. It would see in these divisions the bitter fruit of sins committed by Christians. It seems quite clear from our vantage point that there was a major failure at the time to live in that mutual love which is the pearl of the Gospel (Jn 13:34; 15:12).

That is the negative answer. There is also a positive answer to our question as to why the Holy Spirit did permit these divisions and their legacy.
'Could it not be that these divisions have also been a path continually leading the Church to discover the untold wealth contained in Christ's Gospel and in the redemption accomplished by Christ? Perhaps all this wealth would not have come to light otherwise..."(John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, Jonathan Cape: London 1994, 153).
The HOLY SPIRIT suggests the positive answer. He is capable of bringing forth good even from evil, from human failure and human weakness.

In the revelation of God communicated to humankind there is an embarrassment of riches. St Paul speaks of “the unfathomable riches of Christ” (Eph 3:8), and asks his communities to pray that he may be able to make known these riches to others (Eph 6:19 -20). The different ecclesial communities since the Reformation have highlighted different elements of the 'unfathomable riches of Christ.' This is a patent fact.

The examples stand out. The Lutheran Church highlighted the Word of God: that Word which, though heaven and earth were to pass away, would never pass away. The Anglican Church highlighted the idea of communion, of unity in diversity. The Presbyterian Church highlighted the presence of the crucified and risen Jesus in the midst of those gathered in his name (Mt 18:20), as well as the baptismal dignity that makes each lay person a ‘royal priest.’ The Methodist Church highlighted from the unfathomable riches of Christ the Gospel as a way, a method leading to holiness, just as the first Christians in the Acts of the Apostles were called "followers of the Way."(Acts 9:2; 18:25 ,26;19:9,23;22:4; 24:14,22) The Catholic Church highlighted the Sacraments and the apostolic structure of the Gospel without neglecting the other dimensions.

This, however, cannot be a justification for the divisions that continue do deepen and even proliferate. The time must come for the love that unites us to be manifested. Many signs lead us to believe that that very time is now with us in a special way. The ecumenical movement can be interpreted as a potent sign of its arrival. A reunited Church would have to be reunited in terms of one Faith or Doctrine, one set of Sacraments with the Eucharist at its core, and one Apostolic Structure.

Such a reunited Church, however, would retain the emphasis of the Lutheran Church on the Word, it would retain the emphasis and experience of the Anglican Church on communion, the emphasis and four hundred years old experience of the Presbyterian Church of the equal baptismal dignity of all believers, and the Methodist Church's pursuit of a way of holiness. What has been lived by the various ecclesial communities could not be lost and would not be lost in such a Church. And such a vibrant Church, where the riches of the Lord's Gospel are lived out and so manifest, would be so beautiful as to be irresistible. It would become a home for the whole of humanity.’

(From ‘A fresh Perspective on the Disunity of Christians?’ © Fr. Tom Norris, 2002. St. Patrick’s College, Maynooth, Co. Kildare.)


There is only one Body of Christ: one Christian Church; we are it.
Wherever we stand, we are and always have been united, though clearly not as our Lord would wish.
Our problem (and how clearly it has been shown to be both a problem and of our own making) is that we allow differences of opinion to become causes of separation, separation to become distance, and distance to become ingrained in our hearts and minds. We feel ourselves to be far apart and therefore different; unalterably so. We allow this to become the reality for us, and the one central truth which we all share and which is far greater than the differences between us – that we are all followers of Jesus Christ – seems to be forgotten.
Of course, it is easy for me to jot down a few thoughts as though oblivious to the considerable work needed to unravel all our knotted and tangled differences and causes of separation, but then, these are merely words on a blog page.
I admit to being simplistic, but if I prompt further thought in only one or two people it will have been worthwhile.
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Tuesday 13 January 2009

Misguided (2)

Our lack of conviction in our beliefs has two potentially dangerous consequences for our spiritual wellbeing and peace.
The first, is that in our seeking of a greater certainty we may too easily be led by others; the second, that we will omit to seek the insights and guidance of others completely and pay no heed to any unsought support when it is offered, attempting instead to fix beliefs more firmly by dwelling solely on our own experience.
The danger in the first is that, through our lack of discernment, we shall allow ourselves to be led by the wrong people.
In the second, our inability to understand just how little experience we really have makes inner solitude itself dangerous.
We should not attempt to rely on trying to learn from ourselves alone until we have a great deal of experience behind us, and until that experience – of good and bad, success and failure, of sinfulness and of grace – enables us to form a central certainty amid our doubts. This is the certainty that what little we do have to hold onto is built on firm foundations. It becomes an anchor for our further seeking; for the possibly lengthy period of our continued sense of not having found a safe anchorage. It enables us to weather the storms, temptations and distractions that will seem to draw us away from our search by portraying it as unnecessarily distressing and even debilitating; restrictive and futile. It maintains our link with the rock upon which we have secured our core of certainty, and, so long as we hold onto that, however much we are buffeted and swept about by the currents that strive to tear us free, we shall be brought to the security of the harbour by the wind of the Holy Spirit blowing constantly in our lives.

I have walked my own path in this way of formless doubt and slowly reducing confusion for years, and it is only recently that I have stepped into a more settled awareness of my own self and my place within the all encompassing breath of the Spirit. I believe my own danger during those years has rarely been listening to the wrong people; it has been keeping too much to myself, both in the sense of not revealing my thoughts and feelings to others, and in that I have rarely had any meaningful contact with other Christians: contact that is perhaps usually referred to as fellowship.
When looking back over the pattern of my spiritual life, all the stages seem to fall into place leaving me with the contented alertness that accompanies my steps today. I know my story is not yet complete, but I am no longer apprehensive about where it may be leading me. Again, it is only recently that I have found myself riding on these calm waters. I believe it is because, at last, after nearly twenty years of mostly single-handed sailing with a never-diminishing sense of having never sailed before, I have experienced enough, and understood well enough about that experience to learn from it. I have reached a point where, for the first time, I am able to judge myself well enough to learn the real lessons hidden in my experience; this is what I mean when saying that I am able to learn from myself.


One of the lessons learned is about my long period of having few real connections with other Christians who may have been able to contribute to my progress. I have long been aware of this as a series of blank pages in what has otherwise been a deeply engrossing story of journeying and discovery, and have been troubled by the contradiction presented by this and my awareness of the need for all Christians to belong to a group of believers, however small, and thus become visible as part of Christ’s Church.
However great our need for the support of others, we still have gifts to bring to those around us; and however much we have to give, we can still feel a need, however infrequent, for human input from outside our own experience. None of this will bring us closer to the safe anchorage we seek, however, unless the guiding light for our own vulnerability and strength is the same one guiding those to whom we look for guidance and encouragement. Only if the ultimate guide for all of us is the Holy Spirit shall we find ourselves, not merely becalmed and lost in one of spirituality’s many backwaters, but empowered and joyful in the living peace that is Christ’s presence among and within us.
The few human guides I have had have been the right ones; in that I have been truly blessed, and without the amount of solitary time and space the Lord has granted me over the years I doubt that I would be the person I am today. Hindsight tells me that He led me into the spiritual environment and ways of nurturing that would match the human nature He gave to me. I have learned that, as with each of us, He intends to draw out the best from me.

In a talk entitled ‘Sailing in the Spirit’ (Gloucester. Nov 2007), Roy Hendy of The House of The Open Door Community prayed, “Lord, inspire your people to set sail.”
I echo his words. How can we expect to catch the breeze if we do not lay our fears and apprehension aside, hoisting our sail with a longing that it be filled to bursting with the breath of the Spirit.
The ways in which the Spirit will lead may not conform to the ways planned and laid out for us by men, but ultimately, as the Church’s only guide, we must learn to understand and act upon His leading. In doing so we shall never be misguided.


Saturday 10 January 2009

Misguided (1)

I am reminded once more that it can be difficult to define what we really think and believe.
My own needs include the writing out of thoughts before being able to fully unravel them and grasp the ideas behind them. I frequently need to do this to focus my ideas, values and convictions more effectively within my own mind before making any attempt to convey them to anyone else. This need meant that the uncertainties associated with starting to write here evaporated quickly as I began to find the process both enjoyable and fruitful: fruitful in that it enabled me to clarify and better interpret some of my own thinking, and, in having done that, to find myself becoming my own teacher and learning from myself. During this process the whole experience is a soliloquy for me, regardless of the fact that I try to frame my written words as though I am speaking to someone else. That other person of course is you, the reader, whoever and wherever you may be.
Once the thinking and writing are done, the checking and final adjustments are nothing to do with what goes on within me; putting the result into some sort of order, trying to make it read like reasonable English, and then making it available here, is done for you. It is done for anyone who happens across it, but in particular for those of you who keep coming back and who take the time to read thoughtfully. I like to think you do this because you value some of what you find here, and wish to find the intended meaning of what I have written. The most worthwhile reason for anyone doing this would be that something speaks directly to your own lives, finding similar strands in your own experience and helping to bring these vague and sometimes misunderstood threads into clearer focus and deeper understanding. This is certainly how I find myself growing through the thoughts and words of others whose insights and understanding I value. Knowing that you are out there somewhere, walking with me as unseen companions, is a blessing.
Soliloquy or not, knowing that I am not talking only to myself makes the whole experience doubly worthwhile. I thank you for that.

In spite of this, however, there are times when my uncertainty is not completely dispelled. Reading through my previous post a day after writing, I felt that my words towards the end were too negative and gave the impression that I had missed an important point about the role of the laity in the Church. But almost as soon as I began to think of altering them, I realized the problem was not so much what I had actually written, as the fact that I had not written enough to convey the entirety of my thoughts on the subject.
(This is one of the difficulties with limiting the length of any form of communication; the likelihood of failing to get one’s message across in the intended way is increased enormously. I am writing brief and semi-random pieces which I believe are probably as long as most people will be prepared to read. For many they are probably already too long.)

What is our place, as lay members of the Church, in the ongoing work of Christians to bring other people to Christ and to deepen the faith of those who are already following Jesus?
If those of us who are Roman Catholics believe it to be whatever the Church declares it to be, no more and no less, then the answer clearly lies in The Catechism of The Catholic Church, and in the various Vatican documents which have anything to say on the subject.
For those of us who are not Catholics, my own assumption is that the answer will be based upon whatever the teachings may be of the particular church or denomination, blended with the particular beliefs and interpretations of the individual; the result being a greater freedom to decide for oneself what should be done.
My assumption may be wrong; I have no particular knowledge or other reason for believing as I do, and I am well aware that this is precisely the kind of pre-formed background that leads to so many of our perceived differences and misinterpretations of attitudes and beliefs. What matters is that the Christian Church, the Church founded by Jesus Christ, be unified and conformed to His will. This can never be achieved by rigidly adhering to a set of rules and by trying to bring everyone else within the same restrictive obedience, and nor will it ever result from a freedom to scatter ourselves to the winds.

There is only one Guide, Teacher and Counsellor for all who hold themselves to be members of that Church.
It is the one we read of in St John’s gospel: the one Jesus asked the Father to give us: ‘another Paraclete to be with you for ever, the Spirit of truth whom the world can never accept since it neither sees nor knows him;’ (14:16,17). It is ‘... the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name ...’ (14:26).

Jesus told his Apostles, and us, that this would be the source of our understanding of the truth; ‘... when the Spirit of truth comes he will lead you to the complete truth’ (16:13), and that what the Spirit teaches is the fullness of God’s Word to us: ‘... all he reveals to you will be taken from what is mine. Everything the Father has is mine;’ (16:14,15).
Being guided by the Holy Spirit is trusting in Christ’s promises; it is following in the footsteps of Jesus. And faithfully following our Lord is obedience to the Father.

As we are called to follow Christ we need to be guided by those whose lives have already been placed at the disposal of the Spirit, and it is here, in lack of discernment and in our over-reliance on other men and women, that Christianity has been undone. It has been pulled apart and is no longer the Church Jesus left us with. In our struggle to understand its truth, we have torn the seamless robe asunder with our differences and with our attempts to justify our own positions. All its threads are laid out and separate across the Earth, and we know that we must somehow put them all back together. This will remain an impossibility until every one of us accepts that we do not possess the whole truth, and that we have been listening to ourselves and to the convictions of others through our inability to discern the voice of truth.
The truth we seek can come only from the Spirit of Truth.

True Christianity today can be summed up as just one thing: being led by the Holy Spirit in all things. Without this leading we merely construct a shelter for our own needs rather than for the needs of the world, and we name our shelter “Church” with little idea of God’s plans for us.


Yes; Jesus wants His church back.
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Wednesday 7 January 2009

Recognition (2)

‘The Apostles themselves, on whom the Church was founded, following in the footsteps of Christ, "preached the word of truth and begot churches." It is the duty of their successors to make this task endure so that the word of God may run and be glorified (2 Thessalonians 3:1) and the kingdom of God be proclaimed and established throughout the world.’ (Ad Gentes. Preface.)

The above is from the Second Vatican Council’s Decree on the Mission Activity of the Church, with its relevance to the spreading of the Gospel to all peoples on Earth, but would it not be wonderful enough today if our focus, our faith, our openness to the guidance of the Holy Spirit and our discernment were such that this could be applied to our own words and deeds in our own lands? In our own cities and parishes? Indeed, how can this be relied upon to happen in the wider world unless it is already happening on our doorsteps? And how can it become a reality here without it having first grown and blossomed within ourselves?
The quoted words of Saint Augustine make it sound so simple and so easy to achieve; they "preached the word of truth and begot churches." Today we have a world of different churches and denominations all begotten through the preaching, decisions and actions of men. Some are vibrant and growing, while others have their traditional church buildings with slowly decreasing numbers; some with enough of a community to still be regarded as a church, but what of those which do little more than echo to the sound of infrequent footsteps and shrink still further into their partially mummified rules, routines and spiritual outlook?


‘It is the duty of their successors to make this task endure’. It would be easy to accept that this duty has been passed on in its entirety to our bishops, and through them onto our priests, but the Church is changing, and, to some degree at least, our place within it has already changed. As lay members of the Church we should no longer be passively watching and listening to our priests while making no real effort to further our own advance or contribute to the spiritual health and vigour of the people around us.

It is our responsibility to share in the Holy Spirit’s work ‘to make this task endure’.
Can we really believe that, with the shortage of vocations to the priesthood, the laity is being asked to sit to one side twiddling thumbs or drumming fingers with a ‘Well, don’t look at me’, attitude? We must take our place as and when the Spirit calls us and guides us; without us Christ’s Church will not reveal ‘a vitality continuously renewed.'

It has been said before, but it needs to be repeated – and not just repeated, but acted upon – Jesus wants His Church back.
There are many ways in which we can work towards returning it into His hands, but they all derive from the one certain way the Church has for ensuring that it conforms to His will: being open to, listening, hearing, discerning and acting upon the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Much has happened during and since Vatican II, and the involvement of the laity that is essential to the life and the reality of Christ’s Church has been acknowledged and declared to be our duty. But to become involved to the extent to which I believe the Holy Spirit is leading us requires us to be bolder than many of us have been thus far.

Some of our priests are leading us and encouraging us toward this involvement in ways that speak loudly of their openness to the Spirit of God and their clarity of vision, while others are perhaps as unsure of the future as we are ourselves. In itself this does no harm, providing as it does, a less vigorous but no less fertile basis for growth in which priest and congregation can move forward together, growing into a more meaningful community in the process.
In the few places where harm is done, those who resist any meaningful lay involvement will eventually crumble, leaving little in the way of sound stones for repair work and future building. Until their time comes for being returned to dust, the less opportunity these men have for influencing younger priests and those considering a life within the Church, the better.
The ‘ What can I hand over?’ attitude is a declaration of control and takes little account of the gifts or the potential of the individual lay persons; and saying that ‘they will learn the delicate art of working together’ excludes the idea of the priest learning to work alongside the laity. It implies that all priests already have both this skill and the desire to use it. Both ways of thinking can be expressions of a determination to maintain the status quo, and, worryingly, both are taken from a talk on ‘The Parish’ given by a member of the clergy at an Archdiocese Study Day for Priests and Deacons within the last five years.
If there is a limiting factor in the involvement of the laity, we should expect it to be our own hesitation and reluctance to shoulder our share of the ministry, not the clergy’s unwillingness to share it with us.

‘Ministry is for all and those who are ordained have a special role and function. However, their ministry is validated and truly productive if they are affirmed and respected by those to whom and with whom they minister. Clergy ... only have a function within a local community that recognises their ministry and gifts and is willing to share that ministry with them. ... Whether we have a high or low view of ordination, the body of Christ gives to all who are members an identity, a calling and gifts to offer for the good of all.’

(Alan Abernethy. Fulfilment and Frustration.)


Monday 5 January 2009

... on stepping-stones


While looking through Good News magazine pages for the article referred to in the previous post, I was reminded of something about which I wrote here two years ago: – somewhere within each of us there is a boundary we have set for ourselves. It is our limit for feelings of inadequacy or vulnerability in our relationship with God; we are prepared to approach Him this far but no further. With time the boundary hardens into a barrier, until one day something happens to make it crumble; a process that can eventually bring the whole structure down. As the wall disintegrates within us we are buffeted by our insecurity until we stand with nothing but rubble on all sides. We are held in the grip of the very fear that made us set our boundary in the first place: a fear of yielding too much of ourselves into the hands of God.

The word ‘rubble’ caught my eye in two articles in the Nov/Dec 2008 issue of the magazine.
Gerry Gallacher wrote, ‘There is a great deal of rubble - rubbish, hampering our rebuilding of Jesus’ Church. Things of the world hinder us and sap our strength: material possessions, status, money, fashion, ungodly or excessive entertainments. The enemy is very near and hides behind and within the rubble, from where he mounts attack. If we are engaged in this work we need to throw the “rubbish” away and put Jesus first in our lives.’
Fiona Hendy wrote, ‘The book of Nehemiah tells how the broken down walls of Jerusalem were rebuilt by families, stationed next to each other – everyone helping. In the beginning there was much rubble to clear in order to get started, and it seemed overwhelming. But they continued. The work was threatened time and again as the enemy tried different tactics to stop them: trickery, threats of violence, mockery … What does this mean for us? Many of us become overwhelmed by the state of the country, (and the Church!) or distracted by the amount of work to be done and the apparent strength and devious tactics of the enemy. But today’s trumpet call is: Focus everyone! Pay attention! Let’s start building. Never mind how much rubble you see, just clear it out of the way, keeping your eyes on the goal. Your part matters, however small. Start now!’

Having written that we must recognize, salvage and rebuild with the sound building blocks left from broken dreams, I am conscious of the way similar thoughts and themes crop up again as we follow what we usually take to be a linear course. Even if we are in fact following such a course, our progress is as though within a giant wheel that rolls slowly along our path with each step we take. The stages we have passed through were thought to have been left behind, but then we find ourselves in similar circumstances again, not repeating what has gone before but building upon the lessons previously learned with a deeper search, a closer walk and further insights.
It strikes me that walking my path is turning out to be remarkably like reading the Bible, in that whenever I believe I understand something my continuing search reveals ever deeper layers awaiting my discovery; what was once experienced as mind-opening or life-changing is later recognized as superficial and having brought me only a little closer to my goal.
The Bible contains more than enough spiritual food for a lifetime. Reading it once, however slowly, carefully, prayerfully, will never open all its truths to us. We have to travel with it and through it, allowing its pages to turn in the same way that the wheel of our experience turns as we tread our spiritual paths, bringing the cycles of learning and understanding, of revelation and knowing, round again in a pattern that fits our own degree of advancement and our capacity for a closer walk with God. It is this gradual process of deepening trust as the pages of our lives are turned that dispels our fear of getting too close and of being asked for more than we are prepared to give. As we place ourselves more willingly into His hands we see more clearly that the rubble around us can be forgotten once we have gathered the essential lessons learned from under the dust. These are the stones with which we are to continue building upon the rock of Christ, and it is this process of leaving the rubbish behind while rebuilding that moulds us to God’s will. It is what includes us among The Moulded: the apparent next stage among the group of twelve followers I suggested we could travel as two years ago. (06.01.07)

I say what appears to be the next stage, as all twelve (and all the other descriptions we may feel suit our circumstances) do not follow a linear sequence. They are all present and building and changing at one and the same time, while seeming to return at different times and at deeper levels as the wheel, and the pages, of our lives continue to turn.
We have only to face toward Jesus for this process to begin. We will become the persons we were born to be, shaped to His will, if we allow Him to enter, to dwell and to reign within us.
As Fiona Hendy has said, ‘Focus everyone! Pay attention! Let’s start building.’ If we focus on the things that really matter the rubble and the rubbish will, in effect, leave themselves behind while the stones we have salvaged become stepping-stones for our continued progress towards the building in which we are all called to take a part; the building of our commitment to Christ and His Church.
Carrying that which is of value from our past into our future is symbolically expressed in the following words quoted by F. W. Dillistone in his book, The Power of Symbols.

‘ ... the Oxford firm of Shepherd and Woodward, in their centenary year, have re-modelled the robe worn this morning by our honoured Chancellor. Four ladies, one of whom remembers working on the original garment in the 1920s, made an entirely new black gown with new lace, but carried over the virtually irreplaceable embellishments from the old one. ... To incorporate irreplaceable material from the past into brand-new present-day workmanship is to exemplify that ideal which the University has kept in mind for seven hundred years, and will surely always keep in mind: an originality grounded in tradition, a vitality continuously renewed.' (John Wain, Professor of Poetry, in his final speech at Encaenia in Oxford.)

Incorporating ‘irreplaceable material from the past into brand-new present-day workmanship’; this is what we are called to do in conforming our individual lives to God’s will. In working to that end we can generate a collective longing to achieve the same for Christ’s Church.
‘An originality grounded in tradition, a vitality continuously renewed.' Is this not what the world needs from us? – what the world wants us to be? Christ’s Church today would be exactly that if Jesus walked among us; it would be alive to the world as it is today, and our churches would be buzzing with people who are now searching and longing for something we are failing to give them.
In general, the Church does not demonstrate ‘a vitality continuously renewed’ and this can only be because we ourselves are not so renewed. We are the Church, and we are blessed with the constant presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives. Have we not heard Jesus telling about the Spirit in John’s Gospel? Have we heard but failed to understand? Or in understanding have we failed to believe?
.
Fiona Hendy’s trumpet call, ‘Focus everyone! Pay attention! Let’s start building.’ carries some real weight.
I believe today’s one word of guidance from the Holy Spirit is the first one: - Focus. Until we can focus on the word itself we will not understand what it really means. When we do understand it, we shall be ready to focus on the Spirit, and that means opening ourselves to His guidance and to the gifts He brings. Then we shall begin to hear what is required of us.
Only then shall we be sure of what we are to build.

‘If the Lord does not build a house
in vain do its builders toil.
If the Lord does not guard a city
in vain does its guard keep watch.'
(Psalms 127:1)

Thursday 1 January 2009

Stepping out ...

We find ourselves at that point in time again, having stepped out of the old year and into the new. Another series of events has been laid upon the previous pattern of our lives, filed away under the tidy but otherwise meaningless heading of 2008, just as 2009 suddenly lies open before us.

Discernment is necessary if we are to evaluate our past experience in any meaningful way, and our discernment has to include an ability to sift through the wreckage of past dreams, to recognize the solid and the sound amid the crumbling and insubstantial debris at our feet, and to link those salvaged building blocks from our past one to the other in a framework that advances our knowledge of how we came to be the persons we are, and how we came to be in the place we occupy today.
Something will have occurred in the last twelve months that has altered our lives; it may have moved us forward, enlightened us, knocked us back a little – or drastically and brutally; it may have freed us, grieved us, swept us off our feet, or buried us in fear, or stress, or anxiety. We have all been through something that has contributed to the overall shape and texture of our lives. For some of us it will be obvious; for others less so. In some cases the relevance may evade us completely until later: perhaps during the coming year – possibly even beyond that. Even the devastating events in our lives bring something other than distress and pain, though the passage of time is essential for this awareness to be realized within our limited understanding.
My own lessons learned have been in the nature of teaching that I must always believe that my journey is worthwhile. I must not allow doubts as to my worth and my ability to discern the right path to prevent me from continuing my walk, my search and my attempts to encourage others to continue with theirs. Nothing has happened during the last year to cause me great distress, and I am conscious again of the trials others have been through while I have been blessed with the peace only my continued faith could bring.

The year has produced its share of horrific happenings around the world, some of which leave us wondering whether humanity has indeed raised itself from the tooth and claw of the animal world. We would normally believe this to be so, but there is so much evidence that appears to support a contrary belief. We must never allow ourselves to doubt the God given potential for good that is in each one of us as members of the human race.
Far less traumatic than the experiences of many people in other parts of the world, but devastating nonetheless, was the product of the unusually prolonged and heavy rainfall on one day in 2007 (see 22nd July ‘07 post). This last year has been one of recovery from that event for many people. Tewkesbury, a town I have lived within easy reach of since childhood, became known nationally through the consequences of the flooding that resulted from that day, and, not far away though less publicised, was the Christian community of The House of the Open Door at Childswickham (see 6th August 2007 post).
With all that has been endured – the rebuilding of lives, confidence and a sense of security, as well as of structures, requiring no less a part of that endurance than the destruction itself – I trust that God will grant all whose lives were so abruptly altered that day with a year of blessings after the long year of rebuilding and re-evaluation that was 2008.

The Sept/Oct 2008 edition of Good News magazine contained an article aptly entitled ‘The Lord Provides’ about these and other events at The House of the Open Door. As previously, may I suggest that it is worth a look. http://www.ccr.org.uk/archive/gn0809/g04.htm

As Bernie Hall says at the end of her article, ‘The Lord gives and the Lord takes away’.
May all whose experiences have led to their glass seeming half-empty and rapidly slipping away, recognize the blessings that will transform their glass into one that is half-full and showing the promise of becoming filled to the brim.
The Lord may at first appear to take away, but from the better viewpoint (and nothing betters hindsight for getting us there) the Lord gives and gives again. If we can but trust Him to the full we shall come to recognize the truth: that He is giving to us every day, come shine or rain: come drought or flood.
There are times when we are called to follow the stream and there are times when we must stand firm while it flows right through us. Community relies on each of us being able to persevere and grow through both experiences in the way that the HOD Community has done. As I raise my brimming glass to their faith and their future, I pray that the coming year may bring each of us a greater awareness of our blessings.

‘How blessed is anyone ...
who delights in the law of the Lord
and murmurs his law day and night.
Such a one is like a tree planted near streams;
it bears fruit in season
and its leaves never wither,
and every project succeeds.'
(Psalms 1:1-3)

About Me

Who I am should be, and should remain, of little consequence to you. Who you are is what matters; who you are meant to be is what should matter most to you. In coming closer to my own true self, I have gradually been filled with the near inexpressible: I have simply become "brim full", and my words to you are drawn from those uttered within myself, as part of an undeniable overflowing that brings a smile to my every dusk, and to my every new dawn.
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