For those on the frontline of COVID-19, your name will be held in high honour

“The righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever… They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor, their righteousness endures forever; their horn will be lifted up high in honour” (Psalm 112:6, 9)

In the Bible, the word righteous is associated with the idea of Justice, and so to live a righteous life is to be one who acts in a Just way. Thus a righteous person is someone who acts Justly (or does what is right). In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus adds another layer of meaning to the idea of righteousness. For there he says that the righteous are those who have given the hungry something to eat, the thirsty something drink, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and taken care of the sick” (Matthew 25: 35-36). For Jesus, these are the works of righteousness and set out like that, you are those he would consider righteous.

Time and again we find in the Bible God urging people to live righteous lives. This is because what we do makes a difference to others. This is why Jesus also tells us to love our neighbour as much as we love ourselves. Other people’s lives can be positively affected by ours. Yet despite this, we might sometimes wonder if our work goes unnoticed, for often the good things we do appear to go unseen. Yet from the verses we read earlier, Psalm 112 invites us into a different story. For there the righteous are described as those who stand tall in the knowledge that they are living well and making choices that positively impact the lives of others. They are also gracious, compassionate, generous, and those who stand firm in the face of adversity. The righteous are those whose life and work is making a positive difference to others and for this, the Psalmist says, “they will be remembered forever… [and] their horn will be lifted high in honour” (Psalm 112:6, 9).

What are we to make of this idea that the “horn” of the righteous will be lifted up in honour? Horns are often symbols of power, but in the Bible, they were also used to hold the holy oil used to anoint kings. To be holy is to be set apart by God in a special way. Every day you are also being set apart to feed the hungry, give the thirsty something to drink, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked and take care of the sick, and as you do this, you are being lifted up by God and positively transforming lives. You are the righteous ones God has called to do this holy work, and as such, God has promised you will be remembered. Your work is not just remembered by God, but also in the lives of those you serve and their families. You are the righteous ones who are freely scattering your gifts to the poor, and for this, you will be lifted up high in honour.

Photo source: Wikipedia

See, I am doing a new thing!

In 586 BCE Jerusalem fell to the Babylonian army and most of the people living there were taken into captivity. This event, known as the exile, is when life as many had known it was irrevocably changed forever, most significantly when the temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. The horror of those days and the aftermath is captured in several books of the Bible such as Lamentations, where it is said that some of those left behind in Jerusalem became so desperate for food that they were driven to eat their own children (2:20). For us living 2,500 years after the events of the exile, it can be hard to comprehend the horror and truly devastating nature of what happened then and some people's desperate response to it. Yet as I write these words our global community is in the midst of the Coronavirus pandemic. Life as we have known it has changed. Social exclusion has become the norm. People have been panic-buying. Fear has become the new normal. Our cities lie deserted; our churches are closed.

As people of faith, where do we turn for spiritual support in moments such as this? What reasons do we give for why this is happening and where do we find God? The writer of Lamentations suggests it was the sins of the Jewish people that led to their suffering. Elsewhere in Scripture, exile is also understood as God's judgment for people living unjustly and not taking care of each other. Whilst there is a valid argument for saying that Covid-19 is the result of living in a less-than-perfect world and not being good stewards of creation, I cannot bring myself to consider Coronavirus as simply the judgment of God. To end there offers me no comfort. Also, judgment can quickly lead to finger-pointing and scape-goating; an all-too-often underlying cause of the violence we see in this world. Instead, I see exile as God hitting the re-set button for Israel. They were removed from a way of living they had gotten used to and were given the opportunity to reflect on their relationship with God and each other in new ways.

Coronavirus is helping me re-set my life. It's making me re-think what is important in my life. For instance, earlier today I went out to buy some eggs, but the store I went to did not have any. Yet whilst I have been to stores before and not found something I needed, today that experience felt different. For the first time I experienced the fear of not having enough food, and that was new to me. Whilst food scarcity is a reality for many people in the world, I've never really felt that. I guess I've always been used to having what I want and when I want it, but with all the panic-buying going on and things running out, I'm starting to realise what living in a world of scarcity feels like, and it's making me see things very differently. As one friend reminded me, "Some of us have been in life situations where we couldn't afford to buy what we wanted when we wanted. Perhaps it is time to do mindful shopping."

Recently I read these words from the prophecy of Isaiah: "See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind" (Isaiah 65:17). These words gave hope for those taken into exile that their situation was not the end of things. For those left behind, they too were being assured that their suffering would end. Whilst Coronavirus is a worrying health concern for us all, I believe we are being given the opportunity by God to hit the reset button in terms of our relationships with each other and the world. We have become aware of just how much our lives impact others. We have become ever more conscious of the need to live selflessly. We have witnessed the delicate nature of the relationship we have with the natural world. As such, we are now learning to live differently. We are choosing to live differently. We are seeing how our choices can make a positive difference in the lives of others and also this world. Things are changing. God is working in new ways: "See, I am doing a new thing!" (Isaiah 43:19).

Jesus won't save you from Coronavirus, just from yourself

Coronavirus has shown just how easy it is to take down the human species. We are fragile beings. Our health is fragile. Our relationship with the earth is fragile. Our relationship with each other is fragile. We live in fear of not having enough. We live in fear of our evident mortality. I believe much of this fear is generated by the realisation that we have been living a lie our entire lives; the lie being that our life is significant and we are entitled to live long, happy and healthy. The reality is, we deserve nothing of the kind. Coronavirus is showing us that life is a lottery. We are one illness away from no longer being here. In the midst of this disease, we hold zero bargaining chips. We are powerless over our life and the lives of others.

Religion thrives in the midst of fear. The fear of death is often an impetus for people to turn their life over to a higher power, especially when the reward for doing so is the eternal preservation of the very life they fear losing. Preachers have long used the fear of death and hell as a means to call people to repent of their sins and accept Jesus. As we see the virus spreading and the number of deaths rising, Coronavirus has become a tangible reality of just how close death is to all of us. However, faith grounded in fear only works when there is something to be afraid of. What becomes of faith when people stop believing in hell, or in the case of Coronavirus, when the pandemic is over?

In the Bible, in John's first letter, we read these words:

"God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them... There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love" (1 John 4:16-18)

I once professed a faith grounded in fear; the fear of hell and the fear of losing my life forever. Yet today I do not profess a faith like this. I do not follow Jesus because I fear going to hell. I came back to my faith because I saw in Jesus a different way to live. I had become deeply dissatisfied with how I was living. I did not want to live in fear any longer. In Jesus, I saw the potential to be radically different. I wanted to turn away from the self-absorbed behaviour in my life. I wanted to escape the mental hell I was in. My life had become unmanageable. I needed a higher power to save me from myself.

There is much fear and uncertainty around Coronavirus, but when people stock-pile food and medical resources, or price-gouge items online, I see exactly the kind of behaviour I do not want to emulate. I do not want to live in fear. I do not want to be selfish and take advantage of others in their time of greatest need. Instead, I want to be more like Jesus. He taught us to wash and be clean for the sake of others (John 13:1-17), to be grateful for what each day brings and not worry about tomorrow (Matthew 6:25-34). He cautioned us against stockpiling (Luke 12:16-21). He taught us the importance of loving our neighbour as much as we love ourselves (Matthew 22:36-40). He showed that a life invested in love for all is a life free from fear. As such, I want to be more like him; like the one who turned the world's values upside-down. In this time when some people's lives are at stake and their personal needs great, I want our precious world's resources to be shared amongst many, not hoarded by the few. Jesus won't save you from Coronavirus, but he can save you from yourself.

A prayer

May we who are merely inconvenienced
Remember those whose lives are at stake.
May we who have no risk factors
Remember those most vulnerable.
May we who have the luxury of working from home
Remember those who must choose between preserving their health or making their rent.
May we who have the flexibility to care for our children when their schools close
Remember those who have no options.
May we who have to cancel our trips
Remember those that have no place to go.
May we who are losing our margin money in the tumult of the economic market
Remember those who have no margin at all.
May we who settle in for a quarantine at home
Remember those who have no home.
During this time when we cannot physically wrap our arms around each other,
Let us yet find ways to be the loving embrace of God to our neighbors. 
Amen

(Author Unknown)

I have learned the secret of healing my inner child

I am 9-years old and I'm in my classroom at junior school. I'm not sure who the person was who visited our room that day or why they were there, but apparently, they were a person of note. I remember they came up to my table where I was seated along with several others. A conversation was struck up and my under-developed 9-year old brain decided to try and be humourous. I said some things I thought were funny and then the person moved on. That's as much as I can recall regarding the specific circumstances surrounding the person who came to visit that day, but what I do recall with absolute clarity are the events that unfolded after they had gone. My teacher decided to "review" the visit with the class and talk about some things that happened. Two of us were called up to the front. My classmate was told something about how they had acted well and been good. I, on the other hand, was publically admonished and told my behaviour had brought shame to the whole school.

Over forty years later and I still carry the emotional scars of that day. I constantly wrestle with the belief that I am not good enough and the fear of being publically shamed. I have lived with a tremendous amount of self-doubt, and much of that has occurred in the public realm. I have this little voice inside my head (my 9-year old self) that questions my ability to do things. That little voice has hi-jacked many good things in my life over the years. Yet the paradox is that I also carry with me many stories that affirm my self-worth and my competence.

In his letter to the Philippians Paul says "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation" (Philippians 4:12). I am struck by this idea of learning the secret of being content. Over the years I have allowed much negative self-talk to define me and limit my natural ability to do things. I have gifts, but I have allowed fear and shame to repress these. Yet within the context of my faith, I have begun to see myself differently. I have learned the secret of living differently. For example, although I get anxious prior to my hospice visits and doubt my ability to provide adequate spiritual care, I have many stories of God showing up and affirming my ministry. This usually happens when I set fear and being self-conscious aside; when I am still - when I no longer dwell on anxiety but on being calm. How do I know God is present? Because things come together, connections are made, people thank me and tell me they have been blessed, a client becomes visibly more relaxed, things change; people change... In short, there is a greater sense of love, joy, and peace.

I engage in negative self-talk far too easily, so when it comes to validating my ministry I have to step away from my thoughts. Even Jesus validated his ministry by pointing out how people's lives were being positively transformed by the things he was saying and doing (Matthew 11:2-5). I keep this in mind when 9-year old me tries hi-jack my adult life. Instead of trying to argue with the child-in-me, I affirm the knowledge that I am more than capable of doing this work and recall the many ways people's lives have been positively changed by my interactions with them. I affirm God's Spirit within me; that I am one who is deeply loved and has been called by God, and as such I have the right to do the work I do. I am now able to stand in front of anyone with my head held high. I have learned the secret of living fully into the life God has set before me. I have learned the secret of being content.

God is known through love not the intellect

I've recently been reading the medieval mystical text The Cloud of Unknowing, the central theme of which is this:

"Through love God is known, not through the intellect: '[God] may well be loved, but not thought. By love [God] may be gotten and holden; but by thought never'" (Chapter 6)

When I walked away from my faith in 1996, it was because I felt unable to know God. I experienced a cloud of unknowing when it came to God. The chasm that existed between my mind and God's reality was too much. As a result, I denied God's existence. How could a God exist who we could never know? Over the course of twenty years, I explored the question of how we know God. I limited myself to the rational and cognitive realm, attempting to go ever further into the recesses of my mind in order to try and bridge the faith-synapse. However, the more I sought the less certainty I found. I was left realising that one can never bridge any gap between mind and reality, that we are incapable of knowing anything with any certainty.

My journey back to faith began when I started to honestly accept the limits of knowledge. Most of us live within a certain naivete when it comes to the things we claim to know. We assume there is a viable connection between reality and our mind; that our mind is doing a good job receiving and processing sense-data such that we experience things correctly (thus acquiring knowledge). However, the fact is we have no way of proving this. We cannot step outside our thought-process to check if this is happening. Yet, on the other hand, we will not survive in a world where we doubt everything. So we have to tell ourselves a story that there are things that are certain and true, such as our mind's ability to know things, even though we can never prove this to be the case. For some, to admit we are not in possession of certainty is scary and opens the door to all manner of other things. For the atheist it opens the door to God; for the theist, it opens the door to unbelief.

In my hospice work, I visit many people with dementia who are losing the knowledge of who they are and the life they have lived. For the religious, they are also losing knowledge of the God they have professed to believe in and worship. How do we relate to those whose knowledge is being lost and whose words are running out? How do we talk about God with those who no longer have the logical and rational capacity to do this? Surely it is in the manner the author of The Cloud speaks; that "through love God is known."

Yesterday as I visited with a client I read this from Paul's letter to the Ephesians: "I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge" (Ephesians 3:17-19). I was struck by this notion that love surpasses knowledge but then realised this is my experience in hospice. Many times I find myself sitting with people, holding their hand, singing to them and gazing in love at this amazing person in front of me. I love them for who they are and the life they have lived and as I do I watch them being transformed. I watch their demeanor lift, I watch people smile more, I feel them grasp my hands ever-tightly. I watch people become utterly consumed by love. Knowledge is limited and soon passes away, but the fruit of God's love in our life remains with us and will endure forever.

Taking the negative self-talk out of my head

An article about Narrative Therapy begins in the following way: "Imagine a narrative of your “life story” in which you are the hero of your own life, rather than the victim?" What a provocative statement; to imagine that I am the hero of my life. For too long I have considered myself to be the opposite. Under a theology of original sin, my earliest years were shaped by the notion that I am far from perfect and that nothing I can do will please God. "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," so Paul says in his letter to the Romans, but rather than using this idea (as it was originally intended) to draw attention to the fact that no-one can claim to be better than anyone else when it comes to our relationship with God, it has instead been weaponised and used to bring people into a state of moral, spiritual and personal despair. How can anyone claim to be the hero of their life when they are repeatedly told there is little good in them?

What is it about the human condition that we are so readily drawn to this negative view of ourselves? Why do we find it so hard to like who we are? Why do we shy away from people saying nice things about us? What is it that makes us so ready to tear down, rather than build up? In contrast, the Bible begins with the idea that humans are the pinnacle of God's creation: "God created [us] in [God's] own image; in the image of God [we were created]" (Genesis 1:27). Of course, the issue of how God did this is much debated, but the essential fact of the matter remains: God loves us. God likes us. God wants us to be here. The icing on the cake is that each time God created something new God proudly announced that it was good. God was pleased with all God made. That statement of affirmation is a "Yes!" to our being, rather than the impression that we've been treading dog poop into God's new carpet.

I am learning to speak to myself differently. I'm learning to accept that I have the tools and resources to live well in this world, both for the sake of myself and for others. However, I am also learning that I need some help doing this. I have too many false-narratives in my head; too many unhealthy conversations going on. Too much negative self-talk. This is why my day begins with a period of reading, reflection, and contemplation. I bring my life into the Divine Presence of Love. I accept that there are things I do wrong and have done wrong, but I live with the hope for potential and renewal, rather than guilt and despair. And this is not liberal wishful thinking but driven by the biblical reality that my life is valued by God.

This morning I reflected on the story of Elisha, who when he was surrounded by the armies of the king of Aram prayed that his servant would not fear for his life but instead see the world differently:

"And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha" (2 Kings 6:17)

Open my eyes, Lord! Turn me outwards. Save me from being stuck inside my negative thought-patterns. Help me to keep finding you out there in the world, walking ahead of me, speaking to me through others and leading me. May my life continue to be positively changed as I live into the story of being worthy and loved, rather than never being good enough.

Why John 3:16 is no longer the most important verse in the Bible

You may often hear Christians saying that John 3:16 is the most important verse in the Bible: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." The importance of this verse is stated for two reasons: 1. God sent Jesus (who then died for us), and 2. We need to accept Jesus in order to be 'saved' (or live forever in heaven). That's the short version of what is known as 'the Gospel.' However, I want to suggest that the most important verse in the Bible is actually found in Paul's letter to the Romans:

"Consider therefore the kindness and sternness of God: sternness to those who fell, but kindness to you, provided that you continue in his kindness. Otherwise, you also will be cut off." (Romans 11:22)

It's this idea of being cut off by God that's the real wake-up call for me.

First some context: Paul is writing to Christians in Rome, and so the "you" here is the church (the gathered believers). The context of the verse is a discussion about how God brought the church into existence. Paul uses a gardening analogy. He asks the reader to imagine a tree, from which God removed some of the natural branches in order to graft on newer ones; the "new" here being the church. Paul's point is that it was God (through Jesus) who created the church. It was also God's decision. None of us has been involved in creating the church. All fine so far, but the really shocking point is that for Paul this is not a once-and-done thing. Listen to what he says elsewhere, "For if God did not spare the natural branches, he will not spare you either" (Romans 11:21).

The Christian Church is declining in the Western World. I see this in my hospice work as more and more families I meet with express no religious affiliation. For instance, according to a 2019 survey, the Pew Research Centre records that in the US over the last decade Christian religious affiliation has dropped 12% (from 77% to 65%) and that "17% of Americans now describe their religion as “nothing in particular,”" which is up from 12% in 2009. Why are people leaving the churches? Is it because people no longer have any need for a spiritual presence in their life? Not according to my hospice visits. Despite professing 'no fixed abode' when it comes to the practice of religion, people are still very much attached to the notion of spirituality and a 'higher power'. All this leads me back to Paul's words: continue in kindness "otherwise, you also will be cut off."

As I write these words it is Valentine's Day, a day on which love is celebrated. It also is a day when people are reminded of all the good that love is. Despite everything bad going on in the world, people remain drawn to this idea of love. The sad fact is that many have not experienced love in the church. On the contrary, verbal, spiritual, and even physical abuse has been the norm. No wonder people are fleeing... Yet the fact is that God's presence is made known in the good we do for each other. It is known in the presence of love. In this, I am reminded of another verse, "No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another God lives in us and [God's] love is made complete in us" (1 John 4:12). That's the simple fact of the matter. God is love; we are called to be loving. End of story! So we must ask ourselves, where the church is in decline is this because people no longer believe in or need God, or because Christians have ceased to be a loving presence in the world? Paul states it clearly that if we are unkind then God will cut us off, and a branch that is cut off from the main tree will eventually die: the Church will die... the church is dying.

When they are dying people don't want to hear theology

I often say that as a hospice chaplain I am not there to give theology lessons. Instead, I am there to provide support and comfort for the dying. I am there to journey with someone as their life ends. What happens the moment after they take their final breath is something I do not know - honestly - I do not know what dying feels like nor what is there the moment life ends. I do not know this because I have never taken a final breath and died. I also don't know the range of emotions someone feels as they are dying. I know what they tell me, but I have yet to experience these emotions for myself. Of course, I have my personal beliefs about death and the dying experience, but my place is not to impose these onto others. Sometimes I have found myself affirming someone's personal beliefs about death and the afterlife knowing this is not what I believe, but as their life ebbs away they need the reassurance these provide, not someone telling them they are wrong. If any debate about someone's beliefs is needed, it is when they no longer provide the reassurance and comfort the dying one is seeking. It is never about whether their beliefs are true or not. I never go into visits thinking that I alone have all the answers.

Yesterday I was speaking with a friend who is wrestling with their faith. They also struggle with coming to church as they feel they are being asked to affirm things they no longer believe. Their old faith is dying. As they spoke about their struggles I remembered going through this same thing in my life. This is one death I have experienced. I remember going to church and struggling with the beliefs I was being told were true and that I needed to profess in order to be 'saved.' It is a difficult place to be, especially when you feel everyone else has it all sorted out. Dying spiritually is a very lonely experience. You think you are the only person wrestling with your faith in the church; thinking you alone are the only person in the room having problems accepting what we are being told is the truth. The reality is, there are many people in churches who are questioning their faith. No-one has it all sorted out.

I started attending my church because I was invited to go by a friend who exhibits personal and spiritual qualities I deeply admire. I remember thinking, if that is the sort of person their church 'turns out,' then it can't be a bad place. Since then I have got to know many people who attend my church, and I consider them to be dearly beloved friends. Whilst there are many things I could go without in our church, I can't imagine my life without these people. I go to church because I want to be with them. They love me and walk with me through life, as I do them. We love each other unconditionally; no judgment. Come as you are! None of us are there because we think we have arrived spiritually; in fact, quite the contrary.

This morning I read these words, "[God] is compassionate and gracious... abounding in love" (Psalm 103:8). When it comes to matters of faith no-one has all the answers, because no one knows all the questions. As long as we live and breathe there will be questions. Instead, we are invited to consider what sort of person our beliefs are leading us to be. So when I read that God is compassionate and gracious, for me this is an invitation to be like this for the sake of others and to consider whether faith is only truly dead when we cannot.

Image source: https://thriveglobal.com/stories/practice-self-love-acceptance-daily-f-k-perfection/

The story we live by makes a difference

I've just come back from a retreat where we listened to people's life stories. Some of those stories were really hard to hear; all involved dealing with the fallout of living with false stories. We learned that the stories we tell ourself, and that others tell about us, have a real impact on who we are. My own story has involved years of believing I was never good enough; that I would never amount to much. I judged my life according to the story others told me about being "successful": Passing exams, having a career, and making a decent amount of money. So having left school with minimal qualifications, I believed I would never amount to much. A lot of my resume is a testimony to just how debilitating this story has been in my life.

All this began to change when I went to theological college and fell in love with academia. I still remember the day I walked into the library and announced I wanted to read every book there. Going to college was life-changing. It put me in an environment where I was able to live a different story; a story of potential, hope and a new beginning. I completed two years of study and from there went on to earn a BA, win an award for a dissertation, gain a teaching certification and most recently completed an MA, something I never would have dreamed possible when I left school aged 16 years.

This morning in my devotions I was touched by these words: "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience" (Colossians 3:12). The words "holy" and "dearly loved" really stood out. Holiness is often equated with the idea of purity, but it is more aligned with the idea of being special and set apart. In other words, unique! Imagine if instead of leaving school and living with the notion that I had failed, that I had instead believed myself to be unique with my own gifts and talents? Imagine if we lived in a world where we were not rejected for our failures but instead felt accepted and deeply loved? Imagine that world... the world God invites us into.

Telling my story has helped me realise that the seeds of who I am today were planted long ago. For instance, when I think about my love of writing and how I have been told I have gifts as a story-teller, I recall the one exam I passed at school: English Language. The only exam I was awarded a pass for, was the only one that assessed my ability to write a good story. Who I am today (and now enjoy being) was there from the start, but my gifts were not watered by love. Instead, I lived in the shadow of a false-reality and as such my self was unable to be clothed with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. I lament the lost years, but nothing can change the past. Instead, I am grateful for where I am today. Oh, and I have also learned something else, that when someone invites us to do something it means we have been chosen. So whilst the world only chooses the brightest and the smartest, God chooses all of us. We have all been chosen by God to live fully into the story of being holy and deeply loved.

We are not in control of anything... so now what?

"We think we're in control of the universe, only we aren't. Sometimes events happen and we can't do a single thing about them. We just have to live with the results. And make the most of it." (Megory Anderson)

Yesterday I spent two hours writing a blog post. When I went to save it, it disappeared. I had no backup nor any way to retrieve it. My response? Closed the lid of my laptop, got a drink of water, went to bed and read a book. Was I annoyed? Not really, although this morning I was grieving the loss of the work. As I did I received a call that one of my former hospice clients had died. My priorities, focus, and energies shifted once again.

My faith helps me to cope with moments of change. I also find peace primarily associated with God's presence. It's hard to explain, but when I am wrestling with something I feel things need to change. For instance, I've dumped pages of written work when ideas have not been flowing. That's why I didn't "punch the wall" (so to speak) after I lost the blog piece. Not posting what I wrote was not meant to be, and I was happy to leave it at that. I guess I've become very protective of my inner self. I want nothing to upset my equilibrium.

I carry this disposition into my hospice visits. I have learned that when I have thoughts swirling around in my head that I am not in a place where God's presence is being acknowledged. Instead, it's me and my needs taking priority. I've seen visits go very badly when I've been listening only to my thoughts or trying hard to please people. I have also learned that when I am in a bad mental and spiritual space it is because I am trying to control other people and the world around me. That's when I get most upset and angry; when I can't align people or things to my will. That's also why I consider the spiritual life to be an invitation into, and a journey of, learning to let things go. I cannot control other people, nor can I control things in the world. Lost work can be grieved, but ultimately must be let it go. Was I disappointed that I hadn't copied the text before trying to save it? Of course I was, but it's done now and nothing I say or do can change a thing.

Our lives are a constant medley of changing thoughts, priorities, and energies, which is why I find the spiritual practice of seeking peace so important in managing them. If the blog post was meant to be posted then it would have been posted; I would have re-written it, rather than this one. When there is peace in the moment I sense God is present. Finding God in the midst of these moments is healing; it is perspective-shifting. Do I think God deleted my blog post? Nope! Would it have been posted if I had saved it? For sure, but would it have been good to do that? I doubt it. On reflection, it was not my best work. It was quite preachy, and when I thought about it some more, not in keeping with the tone of what I am trying to write about here. So I would have probably deleted it anyway. However, and despite this, I am grateful for having written it for it cleared the path for something else to be produced, and in any case, God is always more interested in new life emerging, rather than glorifying the past.

Working in the shadow of death

I got my new name tag today and it got me thinking... As a hospice chaplain, I am often asked what I do. That's a hard question to answer! What do I do? On the one hand, I can say I sit with people, talk to them, share devotional readings, sing songs and pray. Those are some of the things I do, but that's not what a hospice chaplain does. I'm not there just to do those things, even though I do those things... Do you get what I mean?

The reason I'm finding it hard to explain what chaplaincy work is is that it's not about doing certain things. Sure, the general "flavour" of my visits is spiritually-focused, but what a visit should be like is hard to pin down. Visits can never be scripted! For instance, in one visit the client's family was present and I felt I should be doing more "chaplain stuff," like reading the Bible and singing, but then realised this was not what my client wanted. The visit went badly because I began with the assumption that I knew my client's spiritual needs, rather than listening to what they actually wanted. I'm finding problems also start when visits become performance art, and when spiritual care is equated with religious practice. Religion leads us to do certain things because we believe God always wants us to do them and that we should always do them. Thus spiritual care in the presence of religion becomes more about doing and saying "the right thing," no matter what the other person wants/needs. However, the reality is that spiritual care is messy, sometimes lacking clear pathways and outcomes, yet it is always responsive and will seek to leave the other in peace. The important lesson I am learning is that I am not there to project my own beliefs, needs, and desires onto others.

Maybe the question should be re-phrased to be not so much about what I do, but what I am doing? What am I doing as a hospice chaplain?

This morning I was reflecting on the idea of Holiness. Often the idea of being Holy is equated with purity and perfectionism, but it's actually more related to the idea of being set apart. As a hospice chaplain, I know that I have been set apart to do something special. I sit with the dying and walk with them in their final months, weeks, and even hours of their life in a way that sometimes their most loved ones will never get to do. I work in the shadow of death, and it is a privilege to do this. And as I do this work I am learning that our lives continue to have a purpose and meaning even in the presence of death. This is such a counter-narrative for those who believe personal value and worth are found only in the presence of vitality and health. Instead, working in the shadow of death has shown me that God's love is always present; that connecting with each other begins in silence and listening. I have also learned that this work involves not just the death of another, but also the death of self - Myself! It is learning that the little god on the throne of my life needs to be taken down and replaced with the God whose presence and reality is never defined by religion, but through the spiritual art of showing love to one another.

Is it what we say, or is it what we do?

What are we to make of Jesus' statement in the Gospel of John "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to [God] except through me" (14:6), and then the Apostle's invitation that if one believes in the Lord Jesus then they will be saved (Acts 16:31)? Such statements suggest that access to God is available exclusively through Jesus Christ and no other. This exclusivism has naturally led to exclusion, for if there is only one way then there can be no other ways. Sadly, far too many relationships have been damaged and wars started because people think that they alone have access to God!

I wrestle with this idea of knowing and professing certain truths about God in the context of the work I do as a hospice chaplain, particularly when visiting those with dementia. For if salvation is defined by the act of knowing and professing certain truths then what happens when people are no longer able to say and remember those things? During a visit, I am often repeatedly asked my name because the knowledge of who I am is not retained. I am also forgotten shortly after I leave. Yet the profession of faith that Jesus is the way, truth and life, and that he is Lord, seems to require both a functioning mind and memory. If so, what is the fate of those who have never professed this and no longer have the capacity to do so? Are God's presence and reality unavailable to those who lack the words and memory to understand and speak these (so-called) truths?

Here I am also reminded of my own faith journey. I came back to my faith after 20-years of professed atheism not because I believed certain things were true, but because I needed God in my life again. When I re-committed my life back to God I did not have it all worked out theologically. I came back to my faith because I needed to once again "taste and see that [God] is good" (Psalm 34:8). Since then my life has been positively transformed in ways I cannot begin to describe. Whilst I claimed Jesus as my guide into knowing God, I did not start by professing him to be all that God is. My point here is that my faith journey began not with knowledge, but with a cry of desolation. I sought God, and God heard my cry.

There was a time in my life when I weaponised my faith, alienated people, and did much harm. Yet sitting with people with dementia has brought me to the realisation that salvation is entirely God's work. We are not the way, the truth, and the life. People have rightly become suspicious of those who seek to put barriers around God in the name of truth. Instead, God is known in the silence, and in the good we do for each other:

"Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and praise [God]" (Matthew 5:16)

You lifted me out of the slimy pit

The other day a friend posted this old photo of me on Instagram. It was taken in 2011. In response, I posted this comment: "Holy sh*t, I look depressed as f*ck!" That old photo reminded me of just how much my life would emotionally and mentally spiral out-of-control in the following years. 2011 was also the year my Dad died. In my lowest moments, I contemplated ending it all, something I have told very few people. When I look back on my life I find I have spent many years recovering from some form of loss: losing my faith, a marriage ending, my father dying to name a few and yet, whilst there have been many losses, my whole life story is one of recovery.

My return to faith in 2016 was a cry for help. I cried out to God, a God I had spent twenty years trying to live without. I have since come to frame the story of my faith-recovery in the context of the 12-Step AA tradition. The first step is this: "We admitted we were powerless... that our lives had become unmanageable." Those who enter recovery do so because they have reached rock-bottom. There is nowhere else for them to go but up and out of the pit of despair they are in. Whilst some look down on the idea of using faith as an emotional or spiritual "crutch", in the AA tradition it is essential. We need something "other" and "outside" of ourselves to help us heal. We cannot do it alone. For me, there is no shame associated with admitting that one has got to a place in life where dramatic and radical change is needed. As Albert Einstein once said, "We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them."
The other day I read this:

"I waited patiently for the LORD; [God] turned to me and heard my cry. [God] lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; [God] set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in [God]. Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods. Many, Lord my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare." (Psalm 40:1-5)

As I write these words it is my 52nd birthday. With no word of a lie, my 51st year was the most fulfiling I have ever have known. I experienced my life in a way I have never known before. I have spent many years trying to find my place and purpose in the world. I believe with the hospice work I am doing I have now found it. My faith provided me with a "rock" on which to rebuild my life. It's hard for me to explain, but God's presence in my life is real and tangible. People might deny God's existence, but the real and visceral effect of having God in my life cannot be denied. It has truly changed me! I am no longer the person sitting in the photo above, for they no longer exist. Instead, that person has been lifted up out of the mud and been given a new song to sing.

As I said, it's difficult to explain but I think these words from Isaiah sum it up best: "I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. With whom will you compare me or count me as equal?" (Isaiah 46:4-5). Amen!

A story about taking prayer seriously

The other day I felt I was not taking my prayer life seriously. I had been hesitating to actually name specific things in prayer. I tended to prayer in generalisations; bring peace, bless so-and-so and stuff like that. Although we are encouraged by Jesus to "ask for whatever you want in my name" (John15:7), the fact is I often resisted doing this because it would put my prayer life on the line. It puts God on the line. What if a specific prayer is not answered? Then what?

Now I don't believe we should go around testing God with our prayers, but the other day I got a real sense that it was time to be more specific. Ask for whatever you want. Okay! But first, a little context…

I am currently training to be a hospice chaplain. Most of the time I love the work I do, but there is one thing I do not enjoy doing and that is making phone calls. I'll sit with anyone who is dying, but making phonecalls - nope! The problem is, when someone comes onto hospice it is a requirement that within five days we call the primary bereaved (that is the person who will be most affected by the death of the client).

I hate making those phone calls. As an introvert, when I receive a call from someone in the midst of my (often) silent alone time, I find this intrusive and deeply irritating. I also find myself projecting this feeling onto others. Calling someone equals, "I'm bugging you... You find me annoying!!!"  Irrational, yes, but something I really struggle with.

The other day I had someone come onto hospice, which meant - phonecall... urgh! Now I've been working to address my fear of the phone, so I took the bull by the horns and made the call. Emily*, who answered, seemed pleasant enough so I asked if it was a good time to call? It was not, but she said she would call me back later. All good so far... but by the end of the evening, I had received no callback. So the dark clouds of despair began to gather. I got stressed. I began to worry. So-much-so that I had a restlessness night.

Fast-forward to the next morning, and in my devotions, I read these words:

"He stilled the storm to a whisper;

the waves of the sea were hushed.

They were glad when it grew calm,

and he guided them to their desired haven." (Psalm 107:29-30)

The words "stilled, hushed and calm" jumped out at me. God promises that in the midst of our turmoil we will find peace, but what would bring me peace? That phone call. If only they would get in contact with me. I felt it was time to ask for that. I'd had unrest around this call, but I wanted peace. I felt led to ask for peace. I felt led to ask God for Emily to get in touch. So I prayed my prayer and set off to visit my new hospice client.

When I got to the residence there had still been no call, but that was okay because it was early. Maybe they would call later. I hoped they would. I held my phone again, quietly trusting that they would be in touch. Then I stilled my thoughts and committed the visit to God. I felt calm. I had a real sense of peace as I walked into the residence to meet my new client. 

I found my client sitting quietly, so we started to visit. We began to talk about the weather, the birds in the aviary, how much God loves us when suddenly I noticed a woman appear in the doorway of the room. She looked at me, wondering who I was. I stood up and introduced myself; "Hello! I'm the chaplain", to which she replied, "Hello, I'm Emily! I believe I owe you a phone call!"

*Name changed

The miracle of sharing

This morning in my devotions I read the story of the miracle of the feeding of 5,000 people by Jesus. As I read the story I began to think about the child who offered Jesus their five loaves and two fishes. Out of all the thousands of people present, do we dare to imagine that this young child was the only one carrying any food with them? I highly doubt it. This was not a time when people would travel the land lightly upon the assumption that along their way they would come across a kerb-side vendor selling snacks and drinks. No, when people travelled they took food and drink with them. They had to. This was a simple matter of survival. So when I think of this child offering Jesus his food, I don't imagine that this was the only food anyone had.

As I thought about this I began to wonder what Jesus was trying to teach people? I can't believe the record of this event was intended to preserve the idea that we can venture out irresponsibly, without any provisions, and imagine that God will provide for us in the middle of nowhere. That does not resonate at all with any of Jesus' teaching. Instead, I began to think about Luke 4 and the moment Jesus read from Isaiah in the synagogue:

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me,

because he has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners

and recovery of sight for the blind,

to set the oppressed free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.” (Luke 4:18-19)

The context of this reading is the Jewish Jubilee, which was meant to be a time when debts were forgiven and land was restored to those who originally owned it. It was a correction of injustices, and a redistribution of wealth in order to restore the impoverished. For me, the feeding of the 5,000 makes sense in the context of Jubilee. It also makes sense of the actions of the child and Jesus' commendation of them.

Imagine... Jesus asks the disciples to give the people something to eat - a normal act of hospitality for the time. Their response? How can we (emphasis here on "we"), give them something to eat? They are thinking only of themselves. What does Jesus do? He asks if anyone has food. Of course, they do, but the only person willing to "show their hand" (or share), is a young child who gives Jesus all they have. So Jesus takes the food, gives thanks for it, and then starts to distribute it. What do you think happened next? What is the lesson Jesus is trying to teach those who want to follow him? I imagine it is in the same vein as what he told the rich young ruler: "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me" (Matthew 19:21).

Redistribution, because "unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 18:3)

Complexity and order in the world proves nothing!

The other day I read in my devotions the following: “The intricate physical, chemical, and biological interactions that comprise our world bear the imprint of a sophisticated Designer.” Now you might think that as someone who believes in God I would positively resonate with these words, but I did not. This type of statement annoys me. Copious amounts of words both written and spoken have consistently demonstrated that one cannot conclusively resolve the so-called connection between complexity in the world and a Cosmic Designer (aka God). The basic problem is this: What would a world look like, which does NOT bear the imprint of a cosmic designer? You see, in order to know whether this world has been designed and created by God, we have to compare it to a world which has not been designed. That we cannot do this leaves us with an unsatisfactory circular argument.

However, before any atheist gets too excited we should note that the reverse is also true. To know what a world looks like which has not been designed and created by God, we need to compare it to one that HAS. That we cannot do this also leaves us with an unsatisfactory circular argument. It also begs the question; if an atheist could know and experience a world that has been created by God, then why are they an atheist?

Let me put it another way… When I go to the gas station to fill up my car, I don’t walk into the store and buy 17 gallons of milk and then fill up my gas tank. If I walked around arguing with people on the forecourt that my combustion engine runs on milk bought from the store, they would think I was crazy. I don’t debate the issue of what I need to put into my gas tank in order to to make my car run because the facts are indisputable. Gasoline powers combustion engines, not milk! Yet the facts surrounding the origins of the world are not indisputable. The issue has been long debated and will continue to be so. For instance, the issue of how we get from rocks (inanimate matter) to living things (animate matter) is presumed to have happened, yet is much debated. People say it happened, but do not know how or why. Also, using the principle of observation the known universe does not reveal to us how the things we see around us came into existence. We can't observe anything outside of this realm of existence. Statements about events and causes prior to this world and universe existing are not facts but hypothesis and speculation; beliefs, opinions and theories no matter who speaks them. They are these things because no-one can ever witness any moment before time began outside of this sphere of reality. We ALL live by faith!

I've stopped using the idea of order and complexity in the world as proof of God's existence. I'm tired of the arguments and going round and round in circles. I'm also tired of the anger and vitriol generated. Instead, I focus on the ways God is seen in the lives of others. If you want proof of God's existence then I'll point you to how people are doing good to each other. I'll point you to changed lives. I'll take you into the presence of love (1 John 4:12).