Keep calm and falter on

It should be reassuring... reluctantly reassuring I confess... to realise that I can't control everything.

Even the best made plans sometimes go wrong. As Harold Macmillan is often quoted, it is, "Events, dear boy, events," which trip us up. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news but, unless you or I discover that we are super-athletic or a super-genius, there will always be someone out there to outshine us.

Please don't mistake this for low self-esteem, I'm very good at er... "shining" and am quite content in the knowledge that no one can do 'me' better than me! However, life does have an unfortunate habit of outwitting us and, as I said, I find this strangely reassuring.

The truth is we are not immortal. Our inability to control everything is a fallibility that should be celebrated. Make peace with this and the pressure to be perfect or maintain that mask of invulnerability falls away - we don't know it all and we don't have to. It is healthy to embrace the truth that there is something out there far more magnificent and far more powerful than our grandiose illusion of our sovereignty over life.

Though I admit, the very thought of it inspires a little panic in me... But why?

Well, if you're anything like me then you don't give up anything easily. A personal challenge is often misinterpreted as a problem to be solved rather than a chance to get to know myself better. All too often, I'm like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go of an issue until I find the solution - as if by sheer thought alone I can beat the obstacle into submission.

I like to be in control.

Don't we all?

I really don't think I'm alone. By some quirk of nature, most of humanity finds itself in the impossible position of continually trying to understand everything; even though it never will. Put simply, the thought of releasing my grip on every outcome in my life is a bit scary.

However, like many before me, I have begun to discover that it is good to submit to the great mystery of the unknown. There is challenge and adventure in letting go of my control over every aspect of life. In doing so I find a renewed appreciation of the very things I hold dear: family, freedom, opportunity and hope.

Ironically, even if it achieves nothing else, the revelation that I don't have to be in control helps me to regain composure, and at least the semblance of control, over myself.

The dangerous truth

I had a friend who, whenever we used to go to a nightclub, would immediately check for the fire exit.

Only when he had located it would he allow himself to relax into the intoxicating hedonism of the night.

It was entirely sensible. If danger broke out we could quickly leave - there was always that opportunity to snap back to reality.

Often, truth works that way too. We like to think of truth as a great revelation or a soild undeniable fact, but the truth is most meaningful to us when it offers a unique chance to break free, especially if it's freedom from ourselves.

When dreams go wrong

The truth can be a slippery thing

We can enjoy the dream for as long as we like, but when the dream becomes a nightmare, that's when we need the truth to wake us up.

This, however, seems to be the danger of religion. A famous philosopher once described religion as a social drug, allowing us to escape from the pain of life. Yet, ironically, the whole basis of religion is the search for truth and meaning. The issue is that when a 'truth' offers us freedom from oppression we tend to grab it with both hands and we don't want to let go and that can be a mistake.

I suppose there are then two ways of working out if the truth we grasp onto is indeed true. One is to let it go and try to understand if it is truly necessary for our freedom. The other is to cling to it and let the trials of time and trouble prove whether this truth has any validity.

The danger of the first option is that the dream is usually preferable to reality. We may not like the truth we find and so we choose the lie instead. But the danger of the second can be that we hold so tightly to the truth that we don't allow ourselves to explore how robust it really is. Then the truth itself becomes a lie, it's another kind of dream or worse because sometimes the truth can turn in on itself, becoming ugly in its expression.

My apologies for sounding so morbid, but it's fascinating to think that truth has the power to enslave as well as offer freedom.

Mystery revealed

The ancient Greeks has a curious understanding of the word mystery. As I understand it, it didn't infer something that was hidden from knowledge but something to be explored. Something that was never quite graspable but something that was there to be perceived nonetheless.

I think this is our best understanding of truth. We might cling to it as a rock in the storm, but when things are calmer, we should take the opportunity to discover how great the rock that rescued us is.

The futility of God-magic

Recently, I was invited to tell my story.

The story of how I discovered God.

Of course, I didn't discover God, but that is what people want to hear. The truth is God discovered me. No. That doesn't sound right. It would be better to say God 'recovered' me.

But at that moment, my nerves kicked in and I hesitated to answer...

Miracles are only part of the story. 
Photo by Tomasz Harasim

There's no God-magic in my story, at least not in the beginning and nothing that should convince a cynic - but I think God likes it that way - He prefers to avoid Hollywood dramatics because He wants to communicate with our hearts, but it's not usually the starting point.

Truth be told, there really has been plenty of God-magic in my life. Some of it has been outstanding by anyone's standards. You know what I mean by God-magic don't you? The miraculous stuff. And, when I mention these things, I've seen people immediately respond to the God-magic stories positively with their own thoughts about about God, but then something else happens... their hearts seem to freeze over, the flow of enthusiasm stops, as if it would be dangerous to talk of going further.

God needs something else for us to really connect. I believe he needs you and me - with our simple normal lives. He needs our honesty and vulnerability. He needs our humour and our fragility. He needs tears, he needs anger, he needs desperation, he needs hope. These are the things that reach the heart.

In each one of us the story of God has already been woven into a tale to tell. Our job is to pick up on the highlights that point to a life much greater. They exist in every person and it's really something to get excited about.

Friendship
My story is simple. It describes how I knew I wasn't in the right place in life and how I looked for God and, when I started looking, I began to realise that God had been looking for me.

After that. It didn't take us long to become friends. And, yes, there really were some exciting bits: visions, healings, miraculous escapes, but to hear them, you'd really need to sit down and listen, and I'd need to hear you and you'd need to hear me.

Friendship, I believe, is the real miracle in any situation, especially when you realise how wasted and devastated our lives can be. Mother Teresa said it best:

'The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.'

So let's sit down, you can tell your story and I'll tell mine, and we'll let God do the magic.

What is the key of knowledge?

It's fascinating to think that Jesus had as much of a problem with religion as any other individual.

In fact, I just read a passage where he stands up for the common man against religion:

What is the key? How do we
find the way to God?
Photo by Benjamin Earwicker

"Woe to you experts in the [religious] law, because you have taken away the key to knowledge. You yourselves have not entered, and you have hindered those who were entering." (Luke 11.52)

Religious people can really get in the way. They obstruct knowledge and they are hypocritical - not attaining themselves to the beautiful truths they set as standards for other people.

What about me?

But I am not honest if I do not pause here to examine myself.

How much do I help or hinder people when it comes to the things of heaven? Does my religious activity promote understanding or does it make a riddle of it? How much do I believe in truth but not act upon it?

However, to my shame, I'm left with another intriguing question that baits my religious pride more than any of the others: What is the key of knowledge?

Something about that question seems to go to the heart of the matter. If you, reader, have any suggestions, please let me know...

The Confessional Part 2: Faith finds a way

(I want to post something which counterbalances yesterday's confession...)

The other day my friend got trapped in our bathroom.

I'll admit, the door lock probably did need a little oiling, but it was the first time it had jammed this badly.

It's one of those humourous episodes. Everything's going wrong, and you know you'll look back and laugh, but at the time you can't escape that feeling of desperation.

After much banging and shaking, unscrewing bits and bobs and several crazy escape plans, we finally managed to free him from his temporary jail.

When the door won't open

One day, the door will open up...

Yesterday, I expressed how, when it comes to faith, I often feel locked in, locked down or maybe just shut out from something greater. All my attempts fall short of reaching the goal I feel drawn to. It is as if I've been shut in a darkened room on a bright summer's day. You just know it shouldn't be that way.

But here's the thing. Being blocked from God doesn't worry me completely. I know that the sun still heats the outer walls of my room, and even though I'm desperate I can somehow tell I won't always be locked in. One day I know I'll look back and laugh. It's just that I haven't found a way to open the door yet.

Faith is a curious thing. It is like a muscle, the more you use it the better it works, but also, when it gets injured it takes a long time to heal. I think that's the situation between me and God.

I am confident I will find a way to unlock this door... especially if there are friends on the outside, calling to me, doing what they can to let me know it's okay and that there's still an alternative perspective on the other side of the door.

The confessional: My disease is disdain

Do you ever feel like a fraud? 

I'm not talking about adultery or stealing. I'm talking about faking it spiritually...

There are days, horrible times, when I want to be spiritual and I come before my god in prayer but, quite frankly, I can't be bothered. Shocking I know. And the trouble is I don't know what to do about it...

No easy way to pray.
Photo by Saavem

I know the usual answers. I know how to meditate, I can switch into 'contemplative mode' pretty easily. I know how to come before God in reverence, humility and repentance. But, what I'm trying to say is I've spent over half of my life seeking God in prayer but, at this moment, anything I do just doesn't seem to be enough.

There are things you get taught to do to create a prayerful environment: have a space associated with prayer, eliminate distractions (I know I need to improve here, but I do sometimes manage to switch off my phone); you are supposed to take steps of self examination, deliberately praise and acknowledge your creator. I do try these things, sometimes to a greater or lesser effect... but still, something deep within me doesn't seem to be connecting.

When I come before God, I just find it hard to pray for longer than a few words with integrity. Quite frankly, I'm just that little bit desperate. I know I've been through some big disappointments, I know I need to find hope again and every morning I'm trying, but I can't quite get in touch. 

Once you've tasted chocolate...

If you're not a praying person, you'll probably wonder what I'm so bothered about? But you see, it's something like tasting chocolate and never being able to recreate that flavour again - I've had a taste of intimacy with the divine and I'm hungry for more. It may sound ludicrous to you but please try to sympathize: I carry two wounds, I'm infected with a longing for Jesus, but but I'm also diseased with disdain. 

If anyone is reading this and you've been here, please let me know what i should do? How do you travel the long road back to that sense of awe and divine love again? But please also be honest, only share your views if you really have experienced what I'm talking about. 

People will never forget how you made them feel

The ultimate truth is often the truth you don't want to hear.

Last night, over dinner with friends, we were talking about the people society tends to reject. All sorts of groups were mentioned, prisoners, foreigners, sex offenders. I personally wanted to think about the frosty treatment we show to people who just come across as a little strange but seem acceptable by every other measure.

Can we make a difference? Photo by David Marcu

Anyway, the conversation turned to our ability to accept and care for people generally... Now, please don't get me wrong, I'm told that I am a fairly caring person but, all the same, I was left feeling convicted by how shallow my concern for others really is.

So I'm left asking myself, as I'm sure we all are from time to time: Am I willing to care to the point where I am truly motivated to do something about it? My goal is not some great act of selfless generosity, but simply caring enough to be a blessing in other people's lives, rather than someone who merely passes through their day.

Surely to shine a light in someone else's life, to bring a smile and touch their heart is a way to restore dignity to all of us where we've known rejection or isolation?

Curator of wisdom, Maya Angelou, once said:

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

But how do we get there on a daily basis? How, when it comes to those everyday situations, can I learn to care more deeply about other people rather than focus on my selfish needs?

One of my favourite maxims comes from Che Guevara who advised his children to always aim "to feel keenly the suffering of others". Whatever you think of the doctor turned revolutionary, the only alternative seems to be to learn to ignore people - and that can't be good can it?

Strong hearts and open doors

As a circle of friends, I know we need to accomplish this without being worn out. We've been burnt in this area before and the truth is that some of us, myself included, are reticent to go there again.

As we turned over the idea and tried, with failing hearts, to come up with a solution, an esteemed friend came up with a little insight. He described the image of a city that had high walls but was also able to keep its gates open. The suggestion being that it was because of the high city walls that there was enough security to keep the gates open...'

In other words, it is when you are strong that you can be a strength to others. But that doesn't necessarily mean waiting till you have enough confidence or determination. My friends are already a strength to me, and I feel it is vital to continue to develop our hearts communally (as well as spiritually) if we are to have the strength to reach out in generosity on a daily basis. 

A little imagination can be dangerous

I once had a foolish debate with a friend where I claimed that I'd rather read the Communist Manifesto than The Lord Of The Rings...

If my memory is correct, the argument was about possible links between faith and imagination. My friend wanted to suggest that mythical stories and our ability to wonder are the seeds of spiritual belief. He had a strong case but I was strongly against the notion. And I think I still am.

There are likely to be more links between faith and imagination than I'll ever understand, we have to conceive of something in order to believe it. Surely the best example would be the Genesis where all Creation is simply spoken into reality. (Does God imagine things first? I'm not sure...) Certainly, if we cannot marvel and imagine we have no hope. It may be impossible to perceive any reason for being without a sense of wonderment. Reaching into the concept of God, the universe or any other mystery would be beyond us.

Perhaps ideas are
made to be broken?

But my problem is more fundamental than this... I'm too much of a daydreamer already!

Sometimes, when I pray or meditate, my mind will wander off down paths I have no intention of travelling. It can be a struggle to wrestle my focus back onto ethereal realities. I wouldn't say I have a strong imagination but it's always been easy for me to get distracted. Even as a young boy I would get lost, possibly for hours, just while putting on my socks. To put it another way, for me, faith doesn't need more imagination, it needs cold solid truth.

I cannot afford to base my faith on things I merely imagine. That place is uncomfortable for me. I need a bit of practical, gritty reality if I am going to take a stance that will influence my life decisions.

The Communist Manifesto is itself a wonderful exercise of the imagination. It is an inspiring piece of writing, but I think this was partially my point... If imagination is necessary for faith to exist then it needs to be visionary and full of pragmatism - not simply wild, fanciful notions. Any idea must be tested and proved by harsh truth until it truly becomes something that inspires not only the imagination but our hearts and our commitment as well. Some might even point to Marx's work and say a little imagination can be a dangerous thing, but then at least Marx knew he was being dangerous.

I'd rather quote the engraving that lives above the fireplace in a church hall I visit:

"He who will not reason, is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not is a slave."

I do not fear imagination, I simply need to understand the truth of things to find a firm foundation for my faith. And where I discover truth, I am only too pleased to revel in the divinity of it with abandon.

Blog due to begin in 2015...