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.