he who loses his life for my sake, will find it. Matthew 10:39

Sometimes I get tired of being a disciple of Christ because it seems I’m  always walking against the tide of world opinion;  sometimes against natural inclination.  It would be so much easier to just do what my ungodly self sometimes dictates – the cross word, the judgemental attitude and so on.

I’ve realized at last, that to take up the cross, you must indeed lose your own life and follow one whose steps led to the cross;  to  injustice, conquest, loss, pain, defeat, albeit in a temporary time frame and arena.

And yet, even as I write, I know again the call of Christ on my life. I know that I cannot live, ignoring the promise of heaven’s sunrise. I’ve tasted the Spirit Life and now it invites me to plunge into that different stream and be swept along in it’s gentle current. It means leaving the shores of earth- attitudes and living in communion with God’s Spirit;  of letting Him have the upper hand in my will and life.  It’s a very peaceful way to live, whatever the circumstances. God’s peace does indeed, pass all understanding. 

There is along with this, the accompanying experience of my feet touching the leaden earth and all the weight of my “real world” cares still rest on me.  But in a wonderfully inexplicable way, I carry these “world weights” much lighter, when I am allowing the Spirit the dominant presence in my soul.  It’s a very light, unobtrusive presence, yet it’s very powerful.  It is not all razzamatazz and signs and wonders;  it is not an excitable presence;  it is the abiding divinity of God being shared with my heart and soul. This is what makes living as a Christian not just “do-able” but easy, when it’s God's character in me which lives and acts in Godly ways.  It enables me to love and forgive people, even those who are unlovable and hard to forgive. (Forgiving takes time but is much easier when the Spirit of the merciful Christ is in my vision and resolve).

But still, sometimes, there is this hesitation to plunge in and “seek first the Kingdom”.  I’m afraid of being too different;  I’m afraid of giving up the control of my own life, even though I’ve been unhappy and frustrated in the past by wanting my life to produce what I think I need from it;  income, husband, security etc. Because sometimes, it still seems like a surrendered soul is one which is un-noticed and unacknowledged;  as though I’m living out this authentic faith and it doesn’t bring anyone else closer to God. But I know there is a vast unseen sea of things which my prayers and my life have done.  I wouldn’t want to be more than ordinary. And it’s been this very attitude of surrender which has given me wings to soar out of the dungeon of my own self-pity at all the rejection, abandonment and bullying I’ve experienced at the hands of others.  It’s been this surrender to the Spirit life which has given me self-esteem, strength and empowerment. It’s another of the parodies of the precepts of God:  the one who loses his life for my sake will gain it;  not just in heaven, but on earth too;  a rich, calm, steadfast, meaningful life.

So surrender doesn’t mean to be bowed and beaten;  it means giving over the blueprint of who you are, and all you think you need, to the One who gave up His life, and set an example of humility leading to honour, for us all to follow. It means harvesting a great crop of the fruit of righteousness which beings peace, integrity, strength

an old horse trough; a larrikan and a little girl

The Horse Trough

I guess it was just another relic of bygone days.  There were lots of them lying around the farm in rusty uselessness:  bits of old horse-drawn machinery;  an ancient bullock dray;  and a large cement trough which had been used to water draught horses.  It was about 4m long,   a metre wide and almost a metre deep.   It was fed from a well,  which in turn was fed by a natural spring.  The horses were gone by the time we were kids in the 1950’s, so we put  goldfish in it and they grew to an impressive size.  We found an even better use for it too:

Our farm was smack dab in the heart of the Central west of NSW, Australia.  The summers were hot,  the local swimming pool was too far away in town, and the dams were forbidden playgrounds.  The dry heat of those long searing summers would become too much and, like kids the wide world over, we were drawn to the water.  When you’re a couple of thousand miles from the nearest beach, a dip in an old horse trough really is the next best thing!  It stood in the generous shade of a cypress pine tree.  Tow-headed and laughing, we’d loll our bodies languidly in the water.

This was fairly unimaginative compared to the antics of the young chap who helped my father crutch and shear the sheep.  His name was Alan, and on "smokos", he would take over the trough.  He was a big fellow, bursting with youth and full of mischievous energy.  He would dive full-length into the trough in a sort of belly-flop, from a running start.  The water would slosh out over the side of the trough and bits of green algae would be floating in the turbulence.  It was a bit traumatic for the fish.  He  would lie there for a few minutes, his body submerged and his limbs draped over the side.  Then he would climb out and repeat the process. There was always a cheeky exchange of banter;  he loved to take the mickey out of us.

He had the ability to extract as much good clean fun out of a situation as he possibly could.  He was a likeable larrikin whose zest for life was contagious;  a practical joker with just the right mix of good fun and common sense.  He was a hard worker too, and at shearing time he applied this same power and energy to separating the sheep from their wool!

I liked him because he made us laugh. You should have seen his Elvis impersonation, complete with the shearing shed's millet broom for a guitar!).  I admired him because nothing about life seemed to scare him.  I was cautious and shy and he was big, bold and fearless. The message I took with me on my journey to adulthood was that I shouldn't be afraid to be myself.  

Far below the surface of our lives, in a very still place, undisturbed by the capricious demands of ego, the harsh wind  of discontent and the clutter of practical matters, we discover our real selves.  In later, darker days,  I almost lost the essence of myself;  the lines of my blueprint were blurred by sorrow and wavered  by adversity.   But in the aftermath of the storm,  I was able to discover the lines re-drawn with more definition.  Finally, I found again the clear, calm stream of my own personality;  the heart of who I am.  There was a delight and a dawning confidence in knowing that I faced my apprenticeship of suffering with faith and courage.  I had drawn on those qualities which are so much a part of who I am.  I learned, more deeply, to value them and myself, and quietly celebrate my own uniqueness and strengths.    I think Alan had a small measure in that.  He didn’t care if swimming in a horse trough looked silly.  He did it because that’s the sort of person he was.  And he remained true to that.

contentedness; some thoughts on Philipians 4:10-13

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Phillipians%204:10-13&version=NIV

I hope I’m starting to live that verse “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content”

I’m not sure I could tell someone else how to do it because it’s something I’ve come to by living through my life thus far. It has not been the default option;  I’ve come to it really, through having just about every little dream I had as a young woman, stolen, shattered, diminished or impinged with sorrow.

My two lovely girls remain;  shafts of light in a family sectioned by brokenness, betrayal, abandonment and grief;  they are silvered gems set in a sea of disappointment. They are what remain.  I am learning to greatly value what remains, not to the diminishment of what was taken away, but rather, the losses make what remains more cherished.  Cherished today. The future, like the past, is another country.

My contentedness is not so much a result of my now-calm life, but rather because I have learned not to hold on to things too tightly, lest they be taken away.

I no longer have the capacity to dream, or the expectation of future blessings.  I have no emotional impetus to want or expect things – even good things because they always carry with them a package of possible disappointment.  I have opened so many such packages.

That sounds bleak.  It has the dull thudding bell of resignation about it.  It seems like the gloom of having nothing to look forward to;  or no longer living in hopefulness. It isn’t like that. I do look forward to things, but they are always simple things, like enjoying a quiet evening at home, at the end of a busy day;  or watching the blue wrens find their breakfast in my garden.  I look forward to time spent with family;  more grandchildren; retiring from the workforce one day.  The difference is, I no longer hold onto these things with a tight will.  I hope they do happen, but I don’t expect anything more than what I have at the moment. If I look to the future with no expectations, then out of that flows the well-spring of contentedness;  the sister of contentedness is acceptance of how things really are;  “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content”.

I have journeyed so far beyond deciding what I want for me.  I’ve journeyed to a calm, valley of thankfulness for what remains;  the deep anchor of acceptance of what God has allowed to be taken;  the promise of strength in whatever is to come.  I simply live in the present now. If good things come in the future – as I’m sure they will – my heart will rejoice.

I am learning too, to live the verses in Romans 5: 3-5

 Not only so, but we  also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; ⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

If I look to the future with no plans or desires of what I want it to hold, it is not hopeless, but rather filled with the hope that does not disappoint. Contentedness is a rare commodity;  found after you’ve discarded (or had taken) all the glittering worldly prizes you thought you so wanted.  Contentedness is part of hope;  hope in a Divine nature which is always working in us to complete the good work God started in us when we first began our journey with Him.

It is good to have plans and ambitions and goals - especially when we are young.  Just don't hold onto them too tightly.  Make the default option acceptance of what is, and then contentedness with what God has ordained.

What does the book of Job tell us about God and how he interacts with people?

What does the book of Job tell us about God, people and the creation?

The book of Job is an enigma.  It seems to address the issue of human suffering, and yet there is so much in it which we find hard to understand, not the least of which is God’s final answer to Job about why so much suffering was allowed by Him. He seems to say “I have made all things, and who are you to question what I do”. (Job 38:2-4)

I believe that the book of Job is as much a book of comfort as it is of wisdom, and is, therefore a book which resonates with our emotions.  When awful things happen to us, our emotions are engaged and so the book of Job is able to put our anguish into words, because Job has spoken them long ago;  we can say “yes, that’s how it feels for me too”.  The book of Job has much to tell us about our own human condition, about the nature of God and his response to our frailty.    What can the book of Job tell us….

About God?  We can certainly learn about God’s sovereignty.  God has the power to “place bets” with the devil against Job’s faithfulness and integrity;  he has the power to allow every type of suffering both emotional and physical, in Job’s unblemished life;  he has the power to create life and to destroy life.  In fact, it almost seems like he is simply displaying this power at Job’s expense.

But we can just as surely learn of God’s integrity, His intelligence, His changelessness and his willingness to interact with the human life He has made. The whole story is about God’s willingness to take an interest in our lives.  Even if what happens to Job seems unfair, God is still there at the end, to rebuke the friends and to vindicate as well as rebuke Job.  Would a disinterested Being do this?  God does care what happens to Job, and he doesn’t give up on him even though Job rails at his predicament and questions the purpose of it.  However, in the end, God rebukes Job’s friends because what they have said to Job is wrong.   In this, we see God’s compassion and understanding of Job’s predicament.  He also vindicates Job;  Job has asserted all along that he hasn’t deserved such suffering.  There is no answer to the “why”.  God has the final say, in our lives as well as Job’s.  His methods are better than ours;  his superior knowledge of the past as well as the future, the earthly as well as the heavenly, puts Him in a better position to decide what happens to us.  He made us and his wisdom is above ours.  His right to do what he does, is not to be questioned.

In the poetic sections of the book it seems to Job that God is silent. It seems to Job that while he is undergoing this physical and emotional suffering, God is far away; remote and hidden  – the God who ‘hides his face’ (Job 13:24).  If only there were some point of contact, some common meeting ground, then Job could present his case to God and receive a fair hearing (Job 23:3-7)”.  In the poetic sections, it's Job's faith which is discovered and examined.  Perhaps we should view these sections in the context of the whole book, especially the climactic part when Yahweh speaks.   But it’s such a strange reply.  It’s as though God hasn’t heard all of Job’s anguished arguments. Finally, Job, through this strange communication realizes that he is just a mortal;  a human being whose finite resources and thoughts are completely ineffective for judging the Creator.  Job repents. The book of Job is certainly about human suffering and it's also about divine mystique. It speaks to me about the sometimes puzzling nature of our interaction with God;  of how he seems far away just when we need Him most.  This was Job's experience too and I find that comforting.  And in the end Job came back to trusting God, even though his questions weren't answered the way he wanted.  His trust transcended his circumstances and we can do that too. He trusted a sovereign God with the unanswerable questions and in the process found peace.

About people? 

Their fickleness in the face of our need and suffering.  Rather than offering Job comfort, sympathy, solace or understanding,  they tell him that it must be his sin which has caused all this trouble.  We learn that people can be blind to their own sin, whilst pointing out and judging the sins of others, for if Job, whom the Bible calls “righteous” was punished for  his sin, then why aren’t they similarly punished? . Their logic, as well as their compassion, is flawed.  We learn that, in the face of sorrow and hard times,  people can be insensitive, self-righteous and completely unhelpful. They failed to even acknowledge his pain;  their confident assertions that he only had himself to blame, effectively  invalidated his suffering and he was left stranded and bereft by it. 

 

From Job we can learn much;  goodness, and a desire to live by God’s commands; courage in suffering; integrity in the face of opposition and loss (Chap 27);   acceptance of tragedy, and in the end, God’s involvement in the tragedy. But we also see very clearly, his absolute honestly.  He is bewildered by what has happened, and he tells God this.  He is bowed down;  Chapter 19 makes for chilling reading. He despairs of life and wishes he hadn’t been born (3:1); he has no hope (Chap 7)  and he tells God this too.  We would be wise to do the same when our own life becomes difficult.  Job continues to cling to his ideals.  He also maintains his belief that he has done nothing to deserve such “punishment”(23:11-12).  In his final summary in Chapter 31, he lists all the evil things he could have done but didn’t.   He is honest in this too; he knows who he is and what he has or hasn’t done, as measured against his own set of “life rules”. Amazingly, he still believes God values him.  Thus, he continues to believe in his own self-worth;  his self-worth is built on his honesty as well as his righteousness.  He accepts God’s sovereignty in his life, even after he has lost so much.  Chapter 23: 10-14 resounds with the victory of Job’s belief in this Creator/Father who knows the way he takes.  It’s as though Job knows in his innermost self that all this testing is for a Godly reason and that he will be a stronger soul than he was before (“when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold).

 

The book of Job has much wisdom.  To be able to  accept that bad stuff happens to good people, is wisdom. From the book of Job we learn that life isn’t always fair;  we don’t always get what we deserve either as reward for our righteousness or punishment for our disobedience.

 

About creation?

The language about creation is rich and poetic.  They are strong and beautiful images pointing us to an intelligent, loving and imaginative Creator.  They draw us to this Creation Being.  We are drawn to worship the One who made such beauty.  Consider this: “What holds up the pillars that support the earth?  Who laid the corner-stone of the world?  In the dawn of that day the stars sang together and the heavenly being shouted for joy.” (Job 38:4-7). Perhaps this descriptive language about the Creation has been deliberately used in the book of Job to keep us centred on God’s might and omnipotence because otherwise we might see him as a lesser being, not able to see the big picture or wise enough to know what’s best for us.  A God who created such wonders of nature is surely big enough to hear all we can say to him in anger, frustration, sorrow, anxiety, or doubt.  We can surely trust someone who can build something as amazing as the world and all that’s in it.

I have used some thoughts from a book by :

Anderson, Bernhard W. (1958). The living world of the old testament (4^th Ed.). Essex:  Longman Group UK Limited.

hurl your anger at God

I have a friend whom I’ve known for years, yet hardly know at all really, because she never reveals enough of her true self to anyone, including me.  I don't think she trusts people enough, to reveal to them who she really is.

She gets quite depressed and angry about things at times, but I struggle to know how to help her, because I don’t really understand her, or know the triggers or the causes of her distress. She seems to have a lot of self-loathing. Maybe she feels like she’s never living up to expectations others have of her. I suppose we are all a bit like that because we all grow up wanting to please our parents.  We all suffer a bit from feeling we have failed their expectations a little.

But my friend’s anger seems very deeply ingrained and is, I suspect, tied to her sense of value as a person, ie she feels worthless as a person because she isn’t living up to what others expect of her. Perhaps she feels she has to gain their approval in order to gain their love. She can be quite callous though;  almost verging on cruel.  She’s caustic and harsh and unkind sometimes.  But then I think she feels guilty about that;  she doesn’t like who she is when she’s like that, and that reinforces the self-loathing. I’m not sure how you overcome that.

I think she doesn’t actually let the spirit of Jesus walk with her.  She has a “set of rules” faith and is trying very hard to be loving and gracious but fails, because a) it’s not an inherent part of her blueprint, but something she feels she should be as a Christian; and b) you can never really live the precepts of Christ, unless you let his spirit rule in your heart.  She doesn’t get it, that obedience to Him is not just “obeying” a set of rules, but handing over your will to His will;  subsuming your nature to His; letting go of it and allowing Him to live through you.

She doesn’t seem to grasp the idea of a living relationship with God.

I suppose in the end we all have to find our own way of dealing with bad stuff.  I loaded it onto God – pleading, praying, railing at Him;  hurling anger at him; criticising Him;  doubting Him.  But at least I was talking to Him – and I was confronting the issues.  It was painful and took ages, but I was, all the time, actually leaning on Him and learning about myself;  the mistakes I made and why I made them, and just what makes me tick.  I was still inviting Him to share the travail with me even when I shouted at him “What the hell do you think you’re doing God!?!;  and “It’s SO hard to follow you Jesus and I’m sick of it being this hard!!”;  and “why don’t you sod off and discipline someone else for a change??!”. 

Sometimes, as Christians we seem afraid of our emotions and we deny them/sanitise them/divert them.  We don’t like confronting them, because we, like my friend, think that God will not approve. And it's painful to look at who we really are.

But God loves honesty;  he invites confession and listens as we pour out our poison to Him.  It’s been my experience that He rarely gives an answer immediately;  He seems to allow us to find our own time and would have us learn about ourselves in the process. 

When bad things happen to us, it’s natural to get angry, sad, depressed, disappointed;  a dozen other emotions may assail us. It’s when we bury these under the sniping face of unkindness and hard-hearted cynicism, or braying self-pity;  or shackling denial,  that we turn off God’s empowering pathway to wholeness and become bogged down in the nettles of festering bitterness and revenge, or destructive anger.  We allow what’s happened to fester and infect our hearts, minds, souls.  And we can’t connect to God, because we are holding all that anger inside.  We are saying (for whatever well-meaning, supposedly-noble motive) that we can fix it ourselves;  that  God will not love us if He knows we’re angry.

He knows anyway. Better to hurl it at Him.  It gets it out of our heads and hearts.  He can dissolve our anger because He will love us still, no matter how much we blame Him/criticise Him/doubt Him. He loves our honestly and can work with that to heal us.

I can see how God used the awful stuff in my life to actually heal me from the weaknesses and frailties to which I was prone.  I can see how much more self-esteem I have, for example, by having to plough through my husband’s abuse and rejection of me. I can see how I’ve developed and grown as a person – more rounded, secure and happy.