The waiting game

I don't know about you, but for me Christmas can highlight all the things that aren't right in my life yet. Perhaps it's because of the expectations raised of happy cosy family Christmases around the fire; perhaps it is simply the passing of another year.

Normally in advent I focus on the different elements of the Christmas story and the characters within; this year, I have been thinking of what it means for us to wait now, what it means to find God in the waiting. That seems to have been the theme of my year!

I bought myself another advent book. No excuses except I love books. It is called 'Those Who Wait' by Tanya Marlow, and is the imaginative retelling of four stories from the bible- Sarah, Isaiah, John the Baptist and Mary. * This book can be read over advent, one chapter a day, but could also be read any time of year. I have found it impossible to stick to one chapter a day; I have wanted to devour it and yet to savour it at the same time. The author knows from her own life the pain of waiting and also shares a little of that story at the beginning. She writes with compassion and humour. She encourages us to lean into the waiting and to see the bigger picture:

       Behind every wish that we'd get a hospital appointment soon, there's a wish to remain healthy. Behind that wish to be healthy is a desire to live forever with healed, whole bodies. When we're waiting for the kids to stop fighting, we are also waiting for an end to all wars. While we wait for a promotion, we're also waiting to be respected and known entirely, using our gifts for the glory of God.

    We spend our lives waiting. 

... 

Deep in our core, we long for wholeness, heaven and the incomparable beauty of seeing Jesus             face to face. 

       We wait for Jesus. 

       We can't help it.

(Tanya Marlow, Those who wait) 

Between the end of the Old Testament and the New Testament was quite a wait- a few hundred years- but there were people to be found in Israel quietly waiting. People like Zachariah, who, the Bible tells us, was a man who loved God and did his best to serve obediently. But - but- his hope for his own circumstances had grown cold. That wasn't surprising, he and his wife were well beyond the age of expecting children- and it is a hard road to walk, knowing God could but doesn't answer a prayer. More than that though, his belief that God could had grown cold too.

In the big picture, God is about to break the centuries-old silence. His messenger Gabriel is here to tell Zechariah that God is about to keep the promise made at the end of the Old Testament- that an Elijah figure is coming to clear the way for the Messiah himself, and that Zechariah is going to be the dad of that man! But first, he speaks to Zachariah by name, and assures him that his prayer- the prayer of his heart for himself and his wife- has been heard. God could have had the angel rush straight to the earth-shattering, history-changing news of the Messiah and his herald, but first he takes the time to minister to one heart. And among the amazing predictions made about this child there is the line 'he will be a joy and a delight to you'. An old couple get the chance not only to be part of God's amazing plan but to delight in their own child.

Zechariah had nine months of silence in which to contemplate the power and goodness of God. And by the end of them, boy did he have faith! He could see how God was about to fulfil all those wonderful old testament promises. What a changed heart.

I am beginning to see that the waiting is the thing- this life of faith is more about waiting than we like to admit. It's hard. So many of the things we long for are not guaranteed. They are, I believe, masking a longing for heaven and the things of God, but to deal with our lack in the here and now by saying 'It will be ok in heaven' is often beyond us- well, me at least, It has to be a work of the Spirit.

But He can do it. He will do it, if we lean into Him with our longings, our hopes (no matter how cold) and dreams (no matter how shattered). He will make our hearts long for His kingdom, and in the meantime dance in His presence, And who knows what blessings and answers he will bestow on you on the way.

May you know that your prayer has been heard. May you know Him in the wait.

(Read Luke chapter 1 for the story of Zechariah)
*The stories are very true to the text and she has included notes on how she made the choices she did)

         

The God who waits

We are all familiar with waiting. We wait for buses, for letters, for a holiday, for a better job, better health, for an end to this and a start to that. We wait and we long for something better.

God waits too.

I don't know how I haven't seen it before. After all, there is the story of the prodigal son. What does the father do in that story? He waits and watches and longs for his son to come home.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing." Matthew 23:37

Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!
Isaiah 30:18

When the time had fully come...

'But when the set time had fully come, God sent his Son'
Galatians 4:4

Advent is here! I've probably said before, I love Advent. As the world gets even more crazy-busy, this introvert longs to light all the candles, grab a book and lose myself in reflection on the Christmas story.

This year the story is sending tingles down my spine- perhaps due to spending so much of the last year reading the Old Testament, and tracing the nuanced, layered, oft-repeated promise of the coming King through book after book and century after century. I can imagine the angels holding their breath, as Jesus is poised on the edge of Heaven, ready to dive into from his throne to the stable floor, because 'the time had fully come...'

I was very moved by this post which captures that very element of promise-fulfilled at long last. The writer speaks of the four hundred year silence between the end of the Old Testament and the angel arriving in front of Zachariah. The Israel Jesus came to may not have been in great shape, but there were people faithfully waiting, telling the stories, trusting and hoping. After four hundred years of nothing!! (Follow 'stewardship' on social media to get their advent reflections.)

I usually have a book to take me through December. Sarah Clarkson has written a fabulous list here, most of which are now on my amazon wishlist. The book I have picked up for this month is not an advent book at all, but a little book of poetry which goodreads tells me I have been reading all year! It is by the writer of 'The Message', and is called 'Holy Luck; Poems of the Kingdom'. Poetry seems to be the very thing to help me slow down and ponder in a season of mad rush, and the second collection (my favourite of the three) is packed with Christmas-themed poems. I will leave you with one which speaks to me of the value of advent reflection...

Dream
an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream
Matthew 1 : 20

Amiably conversant with virtue and evil,
The righteousness of Joseph and wickedness
Of Herod, I'm ever and always a stranger to grace.
I need this annual angel visitation

- sudden dive by dream to reality-
To know the virgin conceives and God is with us.
The dream powers its way through winter weather
And gives me vision to see the Jesus gift.

Light from the dream lasts a year. Impervious
To equinox and solstice it makes twelve months
Of daylight by which I see the creche where my

Redeemer lives. Archetypes of praise take shape
Deep in my spirit. As autumn wanes I count
The days 'til I will have the dream again.

From Holy Luck: Poems of the Kingdom, by Eugene H Peterson

In Narnia

I had forgotten the full power and charm of Narnia.

Harry had pulled a selection of books off the shelf (he loves a stack of books to look through) and had included 'The Silver Chair'. I grabbed it on my way out the other day and was immediately lost in another world.

Jill and Eustace are whisked away from their school to Narnia- they meet the wonderful elusive Aslan on top of a mountain and are given a task and four signs. But he warns them- 'up here your minds are clear but down in Narnia they will become clouded'- it will be hard to remember the call with clarity once they are off the mountain-top. They struggle on, messing up more than once, yet holding on to faithfulness to the Someone who sent them and whose purpose is ultimately fulfilled despite the weakness of those he chose to send.

What a beautiful way to illustrate what a life of faith looks like.

A highlight for me is when the children and their companion (Puddleglum, a Marsh-Wiggle) are being enchanted by the witch to forget all about Aslan and Narnia, to believe that her underground world was all there ever was and anything else a figment of their imagination. Then comes a beautiful speech from Puddlegum:

"'One word, Ma'am,' he said... 'One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Supose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."

The truth is that a life of faith is a struggle  and at times our minds and hearts are wearied or enchanted just as the Narnian travellers' were, but oh! what an encouragement we have to persevere! 

'There is wonderful joy ahead.' 

This afternoon I came across this, which explores the notion of taking encouragement from Narnian stories into our own lives ** ("It was never about Narnia" [Lewis] writes. We must learn what Aslan is called in our own world.) I loved Aslan with all my heart as a child. I still do.

*1 Peter 1:6

** The Rabbit Room is written by a group of US Christian creatives and 'Hutchmoot' is their annual gathering. 

Sitting on my coat in Nando's

We got the train back from Cornwall. Five hours in total, unless it's 'hot' and the train has to go really slowly over the melting track (yes I'm talking about the UK in April), then it's six hours. Then a stop-stop-start tube at the end of the journey. We went straight to Nando's as we were starving, had no food at home, and it was past kiddie-teatime.

There were no tables free and we had to wait. By this time Harry was all out of the ability to wait, but he was also too tired, hungry and worn out to do anything else. He spread his coat out on the floor by the entrance to the restaurant, and sat there, with all energies spent. I knew to move him would be the last straw so I just let him be.

I know how he feels. In certain seasons, in certain circumstances, I feel like I've done all the waiting I can, but have nothing in me to do anything else. I now have a prayer that goes 'God, I'm on my coat in Nando's!'  Trouble is, I am increasingly convinced that life is largely about learning to wait well.

Right now, my season feels like an awful lot of uncertainty. A lot of wondering just how the pieces of our lives are going to fit together. And not much to do except take it slow and do the next little bit.

As I attend a baptist church I am out of touch with the seasons and rhythms of the liturgical year. However, I do know that we are between the ascension (Jesus goes back to heaven) and Pentecost (the disciples receive the Holy Spirit). I know this because the Archbishop of Canterbury has a prayer initiative focused on these very days. There are a whole host of resources on the website, including daily prayers entitled 'conversations in the in-between'.

The in-between times are a thing. They are a season, ordained and ordered by God just as much as the decisive, happening, eventful days. They have their own blessings, wisdom, strength and joy to bestow. I hope I don't miss them because I'm not looking.

It's the cross- again

How do we pray?

I've been wondering- even before the events of Monday night- how do we pray as parents?

How should I pray when my child faces trouble and pain, and there's nothing I can do?

You see, those prayers I feel I ought to pray- thy will be done for example- don't spring easily to my lips when it's my kids, not me.

What do I say when my daughter urgently needs an operation and I can't get her an appointment?

What do you say when you are waiting in agony for your missing child to phone, or to come home, or to come out of intensive care? What do you do - and my heart and mind can barely go there- if they are not coming home again?

The gospels are full of desperate parents and friends, coming to Jesus. When God put his feet on the dusty earth people came and poured out their hearts- please, look on this one I love and make it better!

He never said 'your prayers aren't holy enough'. Oh, he may have led them to see the deeper need of their hearts, but in mercy and gentleness.

So I take my rough, raw, untutored prayers to his throne room, where I can only come because of the Son- and I say, Lord, my heart breaks for this child-

And I listen in wonder as the Heavenly Father, the creator of the universe, gives his reply-

I know

Spring

The grass in the field at the end of the road is growing lusciously long (for London) , with the promise of dandelion clocks and other treasures. Round the corner there's a swan on a nest, and things are blooming everywhere.

This year my heart hasn't leapt with the coming of spring as much as it normally does. I usually delight in the warmth, the colour, the promise. This time, though, the promise has seemed a little hollow. Because instead of looking forward to sunny picnics and summer holidays, I am thinking about hospital - about surgery for my girl, and all that brings. My usual planning of lovely things has to go on hold.

Was it C.S. Lewis who talked about 'disordered loves'? Probably. Well, I think my hopes are disordered too. My hope of a happy meandering spring and summer was always fairly flimsy. But that doesn't mean that the promise of spring is false. It means I'm not dreaming deep enough.

The beauty inherent in this broken world speaks of the lost Garden, which will one day be restored. It's a hope that is deep and strong and sure, and which cannot be derailed by a change in circumstances.

I was going to quote the beautiful words of this lady, but actually, you know what? Just go and read it. You won't regret it.
http://www.thoroughlyalive.com/2017/03/beauty-believe-it/

She also led me to this poem from, once again, C.S. Lewis.

I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:
This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.

Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees
This year, nor want of rain destroy the peas.

This year time’s nature will no more defeat you,
Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.

This time they will not lead you round and back
To Autumn, one year older, by the well-worn track.

This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,
We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.

Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,
Quick, quick, quick, quick!—the gates are drawn apart.

On Teddies, Tolkien and Hope

Harry didn't take his teddies on holiday this time. At least, he did grab one at the last minute, but not the ones that have been his faithful companions for years.

Bedtime is when the heart-to-hearts happen. One night we were chatting about death and heaven. About how Jesus knows what dying is like. How we will see Jesus's face and he will wipe every tear from our eyes.

"It sounds happy and sad at the same time. The saddest thing has to happen to get happiness."

My growing-up boy stumbled onto a profound truth there.

Happy endings. How we long for them. Our best stories snatch happiness from the jaws of grief. Our best stories tell the truth.*

J.R.R. Tolkien coined a special word for it: eucatastrophe- 'a sudden and miraculous grace', 'joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.'


'The sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears ... It is a sudden glimpse of truth, your whole nature chained in a material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back. It perceives... that this is indeed how things really do work in the Great World for which our nature is made.

The Resurrection was the greatest 'eucatastrophe' possible in the greatest Fairy Story – and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love."' ** 



https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=high+noon+andrew+peterson


*Thank you Sally Lloyd Jones for this. I can't find the interview but her facebook page is pretty wonderful.

**http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Eucatastrophe

Building castles

If I could have any job I wanted I would be a story writer for 'Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom'. It's the kids' latest favourite thing, and to be honest, Dave and I love it too. It's full of crazy, funny storylines and humour and great characters. I get the feeling that the people who made it just had the time of their lives.

Story plays a big role in this house. Both my children love to imagine, to dress up, to tell stories in their games. Bedtime stories are a given, I love to snuggle up with them and to read old favourites and discover new ones. Harry and I usually have a couple of jokes based around whatever we are reading. After reading 'The Hodgeheg' by Dick King Smith, we tried to talk back to front but it was harder than it sounded. We don't just read the classic established children's authors- we love the stories of Captain Underpants too- guaranteed to give you a laugh at the end of a hard day.

The children aren't the only ones who crave story in their lives. In the aftermath of Trump, I saw a photo on social media which contained a picture of a 'fort/den' made of books and the words 'if you need me I will be in here hiding from the news.' It struck a chord with me. I will always reach for a story when things- personal or global- get too much to handle. Recently, though, I have been longing for books which take me closer to God, stories that reflect his reality, where bad is bad and good is better. I've been wanting to surround myself, and my family with 'whatever is true, noble, right, pure and lovely' (philippians 4:8). But I still want a good story, well written. I've also been thinking of how choosing these kinds of stories can help our children without being 'preachy'.

But apart from the obvious Narnia stories (oh how I loved Aslan with all my heart as a child), I didn't know where to begin. Literature which is labelled 'Christian' tries too hard for my liking. Funnily enough, the first books I have found have been (supposedly) for children. I love the music of Andrew Peterson  and this website, which he is also involved in, led me to read Peterson's novels (the Wingfeather Saga stories) and to Watership Down. (How has it taken me so long to read Watership Down?)

I may get round to reviewing these book in more detail at some point, but for now I am ending with two more thoughts. This article explains so much better than me what makes a great christian book (as well as furnishing me with a long list of books-to-read).

Finally- there is one book which gives me the courage to climb out of that den of books and look at reality face to face- Trump, Brexit and a collasping NHS notwithstanding. Reading the bible brings me ever-deepening wonder, joy and hope. Might as well quote Tim Keller to finish!

'Christianity does not agree with the optimistic thinkers who say, “We can fix things if we try hard enough.” Nor does it agree with the pessimists who see only a dystopian future.
The message of Christianity is, instead, “Things really are this bad, and we can’t heal or save ourselves. Things really are this dark — nevertheless, there is hope.” '

(Tim Keller, from this article)

Bricks

I was thinking the other day about what a life-giving, joyous thing it must have been to receive the commandment of keeping the Sabbath. These folk had just come out of slavery in Egypt, away from the back-breaking, never-ending cycle of making bricks in the hot sun. Then, a command- on the seventh day, rest. You, your children, your servants, your animals. Rest, and remember God, your deliverer and provider.

The passage that provoked these thoughts was from Isaiah 56, where God is reminding his people, fresh out of exile, what it looks like to be his people. The passage goes something like this: do justice- keep the Sabbath- do no evil.

Fresh on the heels of these thoughts, the following popped up on my facebook page, from Tearfund. A church in Nepal going into a local brick factory, to teach the children, (many bonded by debt to this work), and to provide them with some fun.

Rest- Joy- Hope- Justice. God's commands are good news.


http://www.tearfund.org/en/2016/12/lightening_the_load/