simplicity // 39
the Three Words
“Love never fails.”
* * *
“Oh MY God.” Alison
“Food for thought.” Wendy
“Still, deep, clear.” David
“Seeing things differently.” Jonathan
“Stop. Look. Listen.” John
“Receive, forgive, love.” Esther
“Connecting old dots” Andy
“3 words? Man you’re tough...
‘Inspired, focussed, challenged.’” Jemma
“Trust patiently, openly.” Paula
“Practice his presence.” Norma
“Trust love’s delay.” Julian
“Giving, receiving, living.” Sue
“God in everything.” Lisi
'Simply slowing down!' Pete
“Keep it simple!” Chris
“Vegetarian; heartfelt; fundamental” Mark
“Truly humbling. Amen.” Tim
“Practising the presence.” Howard
“Together. Unravel. Beyond.” Sandra
“Jesus My Awl.” Mark
“Revealing, thought-provoking and frustrating!” Andree
“’Breathing ... Encountering ... Reflecting...’ (And you should have seen me at the start. There’s been a big improvement!)” Kate
“Stop, soak, resonate.” Stuart
“Food, companionship, discovery.” Wendy
“Seeing God barefoot.” Neil
“Glad, infused, alive.” Belinda
* * *
rsvp:
“Thanks for guiding the journey of these days and sowing many seeds; it has been refining and refreshing, not least accepting that every day has been different.” David
“I walk into the room and Jesus is on the floor, on his knees with a bowl of water and a towel. The murmur goes around that he's WASHING FEET! I think about arguing but I see the look on his face and so I sit down and slip my feet into the water. Oh it feels so good to feel the water on my poor hot aching feet. Jesus starts to wash the dust off and I watch the look of pleasure on his face, and find that I am smiling too. And then he looks up and transfixes me with a look of pure love that I will never forget. He gently dries my feet and I get up, grateful, clean, and changed.” Andree
“My memoir is simply slowing down: Simply because it has been about choosing to live more simply, giving up the complications and trappings of religion and living and just enjoying being closer to Jesus. Slowing because I spend far too much of my life rushing and cramming and trying to do more for my family, my work and myself. Down, because in truth it is not upwards that I find God, but down here beside me and close by me - yes even washing my feet!” Pete
“I wanted to respond about 'the Bread' - I'm an artisan baker - but was too busy, up to my eyeballs in Hot Cross Buns and so on. But oh my goodness, bread is as much/ more of a metaphor than wine. How yeast (not the bought stuff, but the 'wild') is already there as the grain grows in the field, survives through milling so that with wet and warmth, it springs to life giving life to the dough. I could go on and on and on - how when there is enough yeast multiplied, it needs new flour to feed off/ make risen otherwise it dies in the extremes of the environment it creates... how in order to be bread, the yeast has to die... And that's before we get on to eating, sharing, flavour, texture, making with hands and on and on again! I have loved Lent 40; I will miss my journey mates and shall look forward to Lent 2012.” Jemma
“Sent while sitting in the grounds of Waverley Abbey - it is so beautiful here this morning, the dew is still fresh, the birds are singing, the sun is warm. Easier to imagine the Lord walking here, and I’m able to glimpse him washing my feet as I’ve wandered barefoot through the grass.” Belinda
“The wine and bread of the last two days have signified for me a sharing which should take place much more often. I am away on holiday with my nuclear family. Extended family are also close by and we have spent much time with them too; indeed today I am awaiting their arrival so we can visit the Tate Cornwall gallery. Back to the bread and wine though. We have shared all meals - something as a busy family, we rarely do at home, other than on a Sunday. My husband and I have shared wine in the evenings with our meals and not just to say thank goodness for the end of another hard week, which is how we often find ourselves thinking when enjoying a glass at the weekends. This time the bread has been eaten slowly, each of us accompanying it with different bits and pieces of our own choice, yet sharing the same loaf, the same conversation and the same love. Sometimes we have eaten on a picnic or outside the bungalow, sometimes inside at the table, but always together and always unrushed.” Paula
“A thought came to me in the afternoon of Maundy Thursday, when I was surprised to see very fine rain after several weeks of none. It was little more than a sprinkle, but with it and in a strengthening breeze, came tree blossom blowing everywhere. It caused me to think of manna - another form of bread, and the hymn verse which seems so appropriate for this day, ‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, forgive our foolish ways.’ This classic also has the line, ‘as fell thy manner down’. All through this Lent, despite struggles, I have somehow felt God's presence stronger, have wanted to sing hymns of praise to him more often (even during the mundane tasks of an average day), perhaps a sign of him working in me even when I didn't outwardly perceive it. And like several others on this group, perhaps God has gently reminded me that even Peter was not perfect - on this night of all nights he betrayed Jesus. Perhaps I've been helped to be less perfectionist, and yet more excited about discipleship. That has been Lent 2011 for me.” Mark
“Gift number one is to see the space; gift number two is to know what to fill it with; gift number three is to have the skill/tools required for the task; gift number four is to have the courage to begin; gift number five is to have the passion to work; gift number six is to have the determination to finish and gift number seven is to believe beyond all of these. I can summarise that in seven words: vision, knowledge, ability, courage, passion, determination and faith. We're nearly there! Perhaps like climbing a mountain, as we round the last corner, ready to celebrate the finish mark, so we see that this is not the highest summit at all - there before us is the next and even higher peak.” Sandra
“I’ve really focused on ‘practising the presence’ during Lent - expecting God to turn up every minute of every day, seeing Him sitting with us in an 'empty' chair in the lounge, consciously bringing Him into thoughts and conversations. I've felt like a beginner again on the journey of faith and it’s exciting. God has turned up: to amuse me (the woodpeckers in Ampfield Woods) and challenge me - how about this from Michael Frost's book 'Exiles'? ‘Let's face it : the Gospels aren't bedtime stories at all. Far from sending us off to a carefree sleep, they trouble us, forcing us to reassess the deals we have done with the spirit of this age.’ I'm currently reassessing the deals that I've done... and that will keep me journeying for a few more months! The one disadvantage of online reflections is not seeing, and knowing more fully, the other people who've been part of this Lent group ... but, to all, thank you for your contributions, and Happy Easter!” Howard
* * *
May you know love, today.
Go well!
Brian
Friday, 22 April 2011
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
The Bare Foot (2)
simplicity // 38
the Bare Foot (2)
Often it’s the simplest actions that cut the deepest. Great leaders know as much. Life needn’t be complicated. So let’s not make it so, today,
During the last supper, Jesus rocked his disciples (and in particular, Peter) by washing their feet. Masters didn’t do this. It was a final demonstration of the absurd, foolish love he had shown to those he had walked with, and who would continue to walk his way.
There is something very sensual and humbling about having your feet washed. I remember experiencing it once, at the start of a labyrinth service we’d constructed. I really didn’t want my friends to get too close to my corns; it was humbling, embarrassing and hard to receive. But it was also beautiful, in a manner – as with all the most potent symbols and metaphors – that went far, far beyond words.
So imagine receiving such treatment from Jesus himself.
Really: imagine it. For as much as Jesus chose to lead by serving, so we must choose to follow by receiving. Only then can we trace his steps, and participate in the adventure of divine love. For “unless I wash you,” he told Peter, “you have no part with me.”
So receive, we must: not necessarily from the usual wish-list of a comfier life, or a nicer job, or better health (though such things would be lovely, too). But certainly from the humble love that humbles still, and washes clean, and puts us back on our feet, for the journey ahead.
* * *
action point: the THREE word memoir!
Traditionally on the Lent 40 I have challenged you to write a ‘six-word memoir’. Let’s reduce that to three words, this year! So, try to capture, in three words, what Lent has been about for you this year, and send us your reply. Make it spontaneous, fun, serious, whatever you like. But please HAVE A GO! It’s wonderful when we’re able to see a snapshot of what others are thinking!
And, spend five minutes meditating on having your feet washed by Jesus. Imagine, truly imagine, what it must have been like for the disciples, and ask what it must aksi be like for you to receive such a humbling act of service.
* * *
rsvp:
“Thinking about journeys, one Take That song always comes to mind - Never Forget. Yes even they have words of wisdom. 'Never forget where you're coming from, never pretend that it's all real, someday soon this will all be someone else's dream, this will be someone else's dream'. Did we dream Lent 40? Or are we going to 'follow the road going down the other side of this hill'?!” Kirsty
* * *
May you find your feet, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Bare Foot (2)
Often it’s the simplest actions that cut the deepest. Great leaders know as much. Life needn’t be complicated. So let’s not make it so, today,
During the last supper, Jesus rocked his disciples (and in particular, Peter) by washing their feet. Masters didn’t do this. It was a final demonstration of the absurd, foolish love he had shown to those he had walked with, and who would continue to walk his way.
There is something very sensual and humbling about having your feet washed. I remember experiencing it once, at the start of a labyrinth service we’d constructed. I really didn’t want my friends to get too close to my corns; it was humbling, embarrassing and hard to receive. But it was also beautiful, in a manner – as with all the most potent symbols and metaphors – that went far, far beyond words.
So imagine receiving such treatment from Jesus himself.
Really: imagine it. For as much as Jesus chose to lead by serving, so we must choose to follow by receiving. Only then can we trace his steps, and participate in the adventure of divine love. For “unless I wash you,” he told Peter, “you have no part with me.”
So receive, we must: not necessarily from the usual wish-list of a comfier life, or a nicer job, or better health (though such things would be lovely, too). But certainly from the humble love that humbles still, and washes clean, and puts us back on our feet, for the journey ahead.
* * *
action point: the THREE word memoir!
Traditionally on the Lent 40 I have challenged you to write a ‘six-word memoir’. Let’s reduce that to three words, this year! So, try to capture, in three words, what Lent has been about for you this year, and send us your reply. Make it spontaneous, fun, serious, whatever you like. But please HAVE A GO! It’s wonderful when we’re able to see a snapshot of what others are thinking!
And, spend five minutes meditating on having your feet washed by Jesus. Imagine, truly imagine, what it must have been like for the disciples, and ask what it must aksi be like for you to receive such a humbling act of service.
* * *
rsvp:
“Thinking about journeys, one Take That song always comes to mind - Never Forget. Yes even they have words of wisdom. 'Never forget where you're coming from, never pretend that it's all real, someday soon this will all be someone else's dream, this will be someone else's dream'. Did we dream Lent 40? Or are we going to 'follow the road going down the other side of this hill'?!” Kirsty
* * *
May you find your feet, today.
Go well!
Brian
The End of the Road?
simplicity // 37
the End of the Road?
There are some journeys we wish just wouldn’t end. Perhaps this Lent, you have begun something you’ll feel sad to finish, and you might even resolve to keep going beyond the 40 days.
And then there are other journeys we hope won’t end because we fear what’s waiting for us. I remember as a child, being driven each week to a nearby village for piano lessons. I dreaded them; and as we got in the car, I would mentally mark off every lamp-post and lane and sign we passed, wishing the journey would not reach its conclusion. But all journeys must, of course.
Mustn’t they?
Obviously we can’t begin to imagine how Jesus felt as he neared the finish of his earthly path; the path that was foretold so many centuries before through the prophet Isaiah, who wrote: “In the wilderness, prepare the Way for the Lord... make straight in the desert a highway...” Jesus had come walking out of that wilderness, along that highway, and into our view. Heading this way.
And he walked, and he walked, setting his face like flint, tracing the path finally to its bitter end, being led those last steps to Golgotha “like a lamb to the slaughter”, as Isaiah also prophesied of the suffering servant.
The path took him through the valley of the shadow of death, but it did not - as it still does not - end there, of course. He was to pick up the Way again on the road to Emmaus, and still he carries onwards, walking the path with us that stretches through death and back into life.
“The road to life is narrow, and few find it,” he warned, famously. It’s no Sunday afternoon saunter. But for those who have the courage to look for it, and to follow its leads, this is surely the one, beautiful journey that need never end.
* * *
action point:
Write a letter to yourself, about how you have got on this Lent, what you have learned, the things you have heard and experienced, the things you have left behind. Put it in an envelope, stick a stamp and your address on it, and give it to a trusted friend. Ask them to post it to you in three months time.
What do you wish to write to your (slightly) future self?
* * *
rsvp:
“Just reading the book of John and it springs to mind how Jesus was aware of how he had to work and the essential timing of his actions. He slowly acted in a precise manner like a wine waiting for the right point in time, even though pushed to do differently by the twelve.” George
“I have given up drinking for the time being, but your reflection on wine helped me to appreciate more what I was choosing not to have. I love the way the physical and the so-called ‘spiritual’ are hard to separate!” Jonathan
* * *
May you keep going, right to the end. And beyond.
Go well!
Brian
the End of the Road?
There are some journeys we wish just wouldn’t end. Perhaps this Lent, you have begun something you’ll feel sad to finish, and you might even resolve to keep going beyond the 40 days.
And then there are other journeys we hope won’t end because we fear what’s waiting for us. I remember as a child, being driven each week to a nearby village for piano lessons. I dreaded them; and as we got in the car, I would mentally mark off every lamp-post and lane and sign we passed, wishing the journey would not reach its conclusion. But all journeys must, of course.
Mustn’t they?
Obviously we can’t begin to imagine how Jesus felt as he neared the finish of his earthly path; the path that was foretold so many centuries before through the prophet Isaiah, who wrote: “In the wilderness, prepare the Way for the Lord... make straight in the desert a highway...” Jesus had come walking out of that wilderness, along that highway, and into our view. Heading this way.
And he walked, and he walked, setting his face like flint, tracing the path finally to its bitter end, being led those last steps to Golgotha “like a lamb to the slaughter”, as Isaiah also prophesied of the suffering servant.
The path took him through the valley of the shadow of death, but it did not - as it still does not - end there, of course. He was to pick up the Way again on the road to Emmaus, and still he carries onwards, walking the path with us that stretches through death and back into life.
“The road to life is narrow, and few find it,” he warned, famously. It’s no Sunday afternoon saunter. But for those who have the courage to look for it, and to follow its leads, this is surely the one, beautiful journey that need never end.
* * *
action point:
Write a letter to yourself, about how you have got on this Lent, what you have learned, the things you have heard and experienced, the things you have left behind. Put it in an envelope, stick a stamp and your address on it, and give it to a trusted friend. Ask them to post it to you in three months time.
What do you wish to write to your (slightly) future self?
* * *
rsvp:
“Just reading the book of John and it springs to mind how Jesus was aware of how he had to work and the essential timing of his actions. He slowly acted in a precise manner like a wine waiting for the right point in time, even though pushed to do differently by the twelve.” George
“I have given up drinking for the time being, but your reflection on wine helped me to appreciate more what I was choosing not to have. I love the way the physical and the so-called ‘spiritual’ are hard to separate!” Jonathan
* * *
May you keep going, right to the end. And beyond.
Go well!
Brian
Monday, 18 April 2011
The Bread
simplicity // 35
the Bread
“Jesus, on the night of his betrayal, took bread. Having given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body, broken for you. Do this to remember me.’”
It seems like such an achingly simple way to embody so much. Bread. But we shouldn’t be surprised.
The Israelites, as they wandered in the wilderness, received Manna - “bread from heaven”, as it’s often known. They were told to gather only enough for each day, and no more. That’s trust. But they were fed, and they were fed. Divine provision for body and soul.
“Give us this day, our daily bread,” said Jesus, as he taught his followers to pray, and to expect to receive enough from God, yet to know that this ‘enough’ is more than we could ever ask for, or imagine.
After he had performed the miracle of the loaves and the fishes – so much to spare, from so little – he mused that “the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world...” Life.
“I am the bread of life,” he continued. “This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”
Bread. That barest necessity.
Salvation in the desert.
Food in the pockets of the hungry.
A taste of things to come.
Supper.
A life, given.
A life given back.
Enough, already.
Take. Eat.
* * *
action point:
Bake (or buy) some bread.
Break some bread.
Share with someone.
* * *
rsvp:
“The book that came to mind is the classic, How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. I have have a good time browsing some of the principles which have been formative in helping me to live outside myself. Basics like ‘smile’ and ‘become genuinely interested in others’ are good reminders. Others like ‘talk about your own mistakes before criticizing the other person’ or ‘let the other man save his face’ are more challenging. It is well to reflect on the courage I do or don’t have to do them.” Paul
“Well you hit me hard with this one. This feels like a version of Desert Island Discs! Probably the novel I would recommend right now is: The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton. Closely followed by Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. In non-fiction I would refer back to Surprised by Hope by Tom Wright; God on Mute by Pete Grieg; Spiritual Intelligence by Brian Draper (no apologies - this really needs to be on the list); What on Earth Happened? by Christopher Lloyd and Life Stories by David Attenborough.” Sandra
One of the most helpful books I have read is by John Ortberg’s If You Want to Walk on Water You Have to Get Out of the Boat. To move forward we need to move from the comfort zone and take that step of faith, to trust that when the storms of life are raging and the challenges seem insurmountable, that if we trust in God’s strength and love, he will hold us up and calm the seas... No-one ever said that being a true Christian was ever going to be easy and ‘existence without meaning is no existence at all’. Victor Frankl writes: ‘We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken away from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s way. The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering that it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity – even in the most difficult circumstances – to add a deeper meaning to his life.’ Sue
“I was sitting in the middle of Ampfield Woods yesterday, practising being in the presence of God. The predominant sounds were of at least five or six woodpeckers, located in several directions around me, drilling their nest holes in trees of various shapes and sizes. I sensed this because each sound was slightly different. In fact, one was much higher than the rest and sounded as if it was attempting to drill into an electricity pylon. My mind wandered to reflect on the crazy shapes and colours of woodpeckers (remember Woody Woodpecker?) and a Creator who makes things that have to drill holes in trees to have their young. I then imagined gathering a performing troupe of woodpeckers on trees of different sizes, so creating the first Woodpecker Symphony. My conclusion from this profound moment? God does have a great sense of humour!” Howard
* * *
May you find Manna, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Bread
“Jesus, on the night of his betrayal, took bread. Having given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body, broken for you. Do this to remember me.’”
It seems like such an achingly simple way to embody so much. Bread. But we shouldn’t be surprised.
The Israelites, as they wandered in the wilderness, received Manna - “bread from heaven”, as it’s often known. They were told to gather only enough for each day, and no more. That’s trust. But they were fed, and they were fed. Divine provision for body and soul.
“Give us this day, our daily bread,” said Jesus, as he taught his followers to pray, and to expect to receive enough from God, yet to know that this ‘enough’ is more than we could ever ask for, or imagine.
After he had performed the miracle of the loaves and the fishes – so much to spare, from so little – he mused that “the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world...” Life.
“I am the bread of life,” he continued. “This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”
Bread. That barest necessity.
Salvation in the desert.
Food in the pockets of the hungry.
A taste of things to come.
Supper.
A life, given.
A life given back.
Enough, already.
Take. Eat.
* * *
action point:
Bake (or buy) some bread.
Break some bread.
Share with someone.
* * *
rsvp:
“The book that came to mind is the classic, How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. I have have a good time browsing some of the principles which have been formative in helping me to live outside myself. Basics like ‘smile’ and ‘become genuinely interested in others’ are good reminders. Others like ‘talk about your own mistakes before criticizing the other person’ or ‘let the other man save his face’ are more challenging. It is well to reflect on the courage I do or don’t have to do them.” Paul
“Well you hit me hard with this one. This feels like a version of Desert Island Discs! Probably the novel I would recommend right now is: The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton. Closely followed by Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. In non-fiction I would refer back to Surprised by Hope by Tom Wright; God on Mute by Pete Grieg; Spiritual Intelligence by Brian Draper (no apologies - this really needs to be on the list); What on Earth Happened? by Christopher Lloyd and Life Stories by David Attenborough.” Sandra
One of the most helpful books I have read is by John Ortberg’s If You Want to Walk on Water You Have to Get Out of the Boat. To move forward we need to move from the comfort zone and take that step of faith, to trust that when the storms of life are raging and the challenges seem insurmountable, that if we trust in God’s strength and love, he will hold us up and calm the seas... No-one ever said that being a true Christian was ever going to be easy and ‘existence without meaning is no existence at all’. Victor Frankl writes: ‘We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken away from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s way. The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering that it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity – even in the most difficult circumstances – to add a deeper meaning to his life.’ Sue
“I was sitting in the middle of Ampfield Woods yesterday, practising being in the presence of God. The predominant sounds were of at least five or six woodpeckers, located in several directions around me, drilling their nest holes in trees of various shapes and sizes. I sensed this because each sound was slightly different. In fact, one was much higher than the rest and sounded as if it was attempting to drill into an electricity pylon. My mind wandered to reflect on the crazy shapes and colours of woodpeckers (remember Woody Woodpecker?) and a Creator who makes things that have to drill holes in trees to have their young. I then imagined gathering a performing troupe of woodpeckers on trees of different sizes, so creating the first Woodpecker Symphony. My conclusion from this profound moment? God does have a great sense of humour!” Howard
* * *
May you find Manna, today.
Go well!
Brian
Friday, 15 April 2011
The Book
simplicity // 34
the Book
There’s nothing quite like a new book: the thrill of smelling the cover, opening it for the first time, sizing up the font, getting a feel for the pages... It’s a sensuous experience, even before you’ve read a word. You’ve got to love it.
Nevertheless, I was challenged recently, by a line from a new song by the Manic Street Preachers (a literary band if there ever was one):
“Do I have the courage of the books I’ve read?”*
It’s a great question. For it’s one thing to read about an inspiring figure from history, or to identify with a celebrated character from a novel, or to be moved by a compelling idea; it’s another seriously to act on it.
When Jesus returned from the desert, he went straight to the Temple, and read aloud from the book of Isaiah.
“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.”
“Today,” he said, “this scripture is fulfilled within your hearing.” So here is a man displaying the courage of the books he’s read. The words of Isaiah were far more than just an inspiring text for him to quote, or a vision statement for the movement he would begin. Instead, he would embody these words, with great courage. He would live by them, and, in due course, he would die by them.
* * *
action point:
If you were to have the courage of the books you’ve read, which books would they be, and what would you do differently as a result? Try to identify your favourite characters, or plots. What is it about them that you find inspiring or challenging? Re-read an extract today, if you can put your hands on the book, and remind yourself of why you found it so compelling in the first place.
And let us know! Only a week to go, now...
* * *
rsvp:
“I've started writing a number of replies before now and ended up deleting them. I think part of my Lent giving-up has been giving up needing to be a part of the conversation. It's the first time that I’ve verbalised this (it's only really occurred to me in such clarity now), but I think that's definitely part of my Lenten journey - the main thing was giving up worrying about the future (!!!). Just wanted to say that I’m really enjoying it.” Tom
“Thanks for posting my Park Life material, Brian. Just to say, we also had a chance meeting on Sunday with a couple from Southampton who are involved in a community project called Park Life! They are building a community cafe in their local park. They are well under way with theirs (http://www.park-life.org.uk/) and one of our group had a meeting in Southampton yesterday and went to take a look. Inspiring times...” Ben
“On ‘presence’: Your comment ‘it does seem as if the people who are serious about disconnecting and reconnecting are also the ones who become more fully present’ brings to mind Richard Foster’s inspired move in Celebration of Discipline to describe solitude as an ‘outward’ rather than an ‘inward’ discipline, for this very reason. On the theme of movement, I won’t resist the temptation to bat back another U2 lyric: ‘You’re packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been / A place that has to be believed to be seen.’” Julian
“Hiding myself in this place, I rest on a weathered bench and wait for the ‘silence’ of the garden. I don’t mind releasing the other world as it dims, dulls, disappears. I don't mind the empty space within me that waits to be filled anew. I become more aware and more alert to the life-thrumming presence, here where I sit, enclosing and infusing me; the gentlest of caresses yet engendering and inspiring. Covered by a green mantle of unfurling leaves, my senses quite suddenly overfill and overflow. Songbirds trill and insects thrum, resonating together in effervescent joy. Lenten roses lighten winter’s deadened load, whilst partying primroses play in the green luminescence.Daubed directly from the painter’s palette, pink camellia petals beckon brightly from the bushes. Exuberance spills. Vitality thrills. A fragrant-frolic; a life-loving, life-living, consummate call to join the dance.” Sandra
“Back to butterflies: they are a good example of life. They come out of their cocoons slowly and take care unfolding their damp wings. If you try to rush them they shrivel and die. Like children growing up, development is gradual. However there will be others, like me, who were rushed into knowledge of adulthood before they were ready. When I think of butterflies I think of how God has been gently working with me over the last 40 years, and just maybe the words in Song of Songs 2.11,12 - ‘See! The winter is past; ... the season of singing has come,’ will finally come to be in my life.” Kirsty
* * *
May you take courage, today.
Go well!
Brian
* taken from ‘The Descent (Pages 1 & 2)’, from the album Postcards from a Young Man
the Book
There’s nothing quite like a new book: the thrill of smelling the cover, opening it for the first time, sizing up the font, getting a feel for the pages... It’s a sensuous experience, even before you’ve read a word. You’ve got to love it.
Nevertheless, I was challenged recently, by a line from a new song by the Manic Street Preachers (a literary band if there ever was one):
“Do I have the courage of the books I’ve read?”*
It’s a great question. For it’s one thing to read about an inspiring figure from history, or to identify with a celebrated character from a novel, or to be moved by a compelling idea; it’s another seriously to act on it.
When Jesus returned from the desert, he went straight to the Temple, and read aloud from the book of Isaiah.
“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.”
“Today,” he said, “this scripture is fulfilled within your hearing.” So here is a man displaying the courage of the books he’s read. The words of Isaiah were far more than just an inspiring text for him to quote, or a vision statement for the movement he would begin. Instead, he would embody these words, with great courage. He would live by them, and, in due course, he would die by them.
* * *
action point:
If you were to have the courage of the books you’ve read, which books would they be, and what would you do differently as a result? Try to identify your favourite characters, or plots. What is it about them that you find inspiring or challenging? Re-read an extract today, if you can put your hands on the book, and remind yourself of why you found it so compelling in the first place.
And let us know! Only a week to go, now...
* * *
rsvp:
“I've started writing a number of replies before now and ended up deleting them. I think part of my Lent giving-up has been giving up needing to be a part of the conversation. It's the first time that I’ve verbalised this (it's only really occurred to me in such clarity now), but I think that's definitely part of my Lenten journey - the main thing was giving up worrying about the future (!!!). Just wanted to say that I’m really enjoying it.” Tom
“Thanks for posting my Park Life material, Brian. Just to say, we also had a chance meeting on Sunday with a couple from Southampton who are involved in a community project called Park Life! They are building a community cafe in their local park. They are well under way with theirs (http://www.park-life.org.uk/) and one of our group had a meeting in Southampton yesterday and went to take a look. Inspiring times...” Ben
“On ‘presence’: Your comment ‘it does seem as if the people who are serious about disconnecting and reconnecting are also the ones who become more fully present’ brings to mind Richard Foster’s inspired move in Celebration of Discipline to describe solitude as an ‘outward’ rather than an ‘inward’ discipline, for this very reason. On the theme of movement, I won’t resist the temptation to bat back another U2 lyric: ‘You’re packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been / A place that has to be believed to be seen.’” Julian
“Hiding myself in this place, I rest on a weathered bench and wait for the ‘silence’ of the garden. I don’t mind releasing the other world as it dims, dulls, disappears. I don't mind the empty space within me that waits to be filled anew. I become more aware and more alert to the life-thrumming presence, here where I sit, enclosing and infusing me; the gentlest of caresses yet engendering and inspiring. Covered by a green mantle of unfurling leaves, my senses quite suddenly overfill and overflow. Songbirds trill and insects thrum, resonating together in effervescent joy. Lenten roses lighten winter’s deadened load, whilst partying primroses play in the green luminescence.Daubed directly from the painter’s palette, pink camellia petals beckon brightly from the bushes. Exuberance spills. Vitality thrills. A fragrant-frolic; a life-loving, life-living, consummate call to join the dance.” Sandra
“Back to butterflies: they are a good example of life. They come out of their cocoons slowly and take care unfolding their damp wings. If you try to rush them they shrivel and die. Like children growing up, development is gradual. However there will be others, like me, who were rushed into knowledge of adulthood before they were ready. When I think of butterflies I think of how God has been gently working with me over the last 40 years, and just maybe the words in Song of Songs 2.11,12 - ‘See! The winter is past; ... the season of singing has come,’ will finally come to be in my life.” Kirsty
* * *
May you take courage, today.
Go well!
Brian
* taken from ‘The Descent (Pages 1 & 2)’, from the album Postcards from a Young Man
The Presence
simplicity // 33
the Presence
“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.” Matthew 6 (Message)
How have you become more present, this Lent?
I’m reading a book called Deep Country, by Neil Ansell (whose work I mentioned earlier in Lent 40). Aged 30, he accepted the offer of living in a secluded cottage in mid-Wales. It was an experiment, for him, in “how lightly [he] could tread upon the Earth”. Same age as when Jesus went into the desert, coincidentally.
“This was the pattern of my days,” he writes: “a simple life led by natural rhythms rather than the requirements and expectations of others.” He had no rent to pay, so wasn’t beholden – but neither did he have water, electricity or gas, so it was no picnic in the park.
Before long, however, he noticed a strange thing. Instead of becoming more introspective, as he’d expected, the reverse happened.
“My days were spent outside, immersed in nature, watching. My attention was constantly focused away from myself... And my nights were spent sitting in front of a log fire, staring at the flames. I would not be thinking of the day just gone,” he writes. “And I would not be planning tomorrow; tomorrow would take care of itself. The silence outside was reflected by a growing silence within. Any interior monologue quietened to a whisper, then faded away entirely...
“I had become,” he concludes, “a part of the landscape.” Fully present, then. Part of the scene, of that very day.
It’s all very well for people like that, replies our own inner monologue. They’ve chosen to live in a secluded cottage in Wales. Or in the desert, if we’re talking about Jesus, who didn’t have a proper job either, or a home to run. Where would we be if we all headed for the hills? It’s a fair point. We can’t all do so. But it does seem as if the people who are serious about disconnecting and reconnecting are also the ones who become more fully present, somehow; for whom life gains perspective.
They must have something to teach us, about the way we can live, from day to day. And how we can play our part – however small - in becoming more present: a part of the landscape, on this very day, within God’s presence. Within the Presence.
* * *
rsvp special:
park life
One of the Lent 40 community, Ben, from Heavitree, Exeter, has helped to pioneer a creative and courageous project in his local park. I invited him to ‘rsvp’ a few thoughts, to inspire us all – as we continue to reflect on how we can ‘be the change’, and become more fully present to the world around us...
“Park Life has evolved over a number of years, but it’s only recently broken the surface. We’re a small group of residents from Heavitree who believe that a community café would be a great idea in our local park. We’re linked by local geography, by how we spend our leisure time and where are kids go to school.
These connections helped us spread an idea into our community. Over the last 18 months, we have run and organised a number of events to build community, to consult with people and to give some momentum to our vision. These include an Eden Project ‘Big Lunch’, an art activity at the bank hoilday fun day, a community football match and a Mother's Day event - at which we gave out tea, coffee, cake and bags to ladies (including flowers, chocolates and free stuff from Lush!). See the photos at http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=103837296335545 . In May we are having a ‘cream tea and lawn bowls’ event.
Our next phase is to draw up plans with an architect and apply for planning permission, as well as starting to start fundraising. A local lawyer helped us to establish charitable status, we have joined the local community association and have started to work closely with councillors.
This is what you find above the surface of Park Life. But the passion for what we are doing comes not just from a love of cafés and parks but a love of people and a desire to help and see lives changed. We loved Mary Oliver’s words from earlier in the Lent 40 series, and thought ‘Fire, Rope and Bread’ would be a great name for the café.
It is a community we are establishing, not a building. There is no hidden agenda, or ulterior motive. We are not secretly planning a cult in the park, or trying to get people to go to church. But the six of us moving this forward are Christians from a range of backgrounds. Personally, I have struggled for years with a nagging feeling that a lot of what I've been brought up thinking and doing in the church has been missing the point; but we have been inspired by reading and listening to people like Rob Bell, Brian McLaren and Michael Frost - particularly his book Exiles.
Below the surface of Park Life is a whole world that we are about to start exploring: one in which there might be a completely different way of doing ‘church’ and even of being a Christian. Not a better way, but a different one. One in which people can belong to something before they believe in something or behave in a certain way - where you are 'in' before you start; not ‘out’, or ‘lost’, but part of the community.
And who knows? Down the line, we might start asking some questions together...”
Do let us know if you have started a local project or are trying something new. It’s often as we read about other ‘ordinary’ people’s ideas and actions that we gain the courage and the energy to have a go, ourselves.
* * *
May you show up, today – wherever you are.
Go well!
Brian
the Presence
“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.” Matthew 6 (Message)
How have you become more present, this Lent?
I’m reading a book called Deep Country, by Neil Ansell (whose work I mentioned earlier in Lent 40). Aged 30, he accepted the offer of living in a secluded cottage in mid-Wales. It was an experiment, for him, in “how lightly [he] could tread upon the Earth”. Same age as when Jesus went into the desert, coincidentally.
“This was the pattern of my days,” he writes: “a simple life led by natural rhythms rather than the requirements and expectations of others.” He had no rent to pay, so wasn’t beholden – but neither did he have water, electricity or gas, so it was no picnic in the park.
Before long, however, he noticed a strange thing. Instead of becoming more introspective, as he’d expected, the reverse happened.
“My days were spent outside, immersed in nature, watching. My attention was constantly focused away from myself... And my nights were spent sitting in front of a log fire, staring at the flames. I would not be thinking of the day just gone,” he writes. “And I would not be planning tomorrow; tomorrow would take care of itself. The silence outside was reflected by a growing silence within. Any interior monologue quietened to a whisper, then faded away entirely...
“I had become,” he concludes, “a part of the landscape.” Fully present, then. Part of the scene, of that very day.
It’s all very well for people like that, replies our own inner monologue. They’ve chosen to live in a secluded cottage in Wales. Or in the desert, if we’re talking about Jesus, who didn’t have a proper job either, or a home to run. Where would we be if we all headed for the hills? It’s a fair point. We can’t all do so. But it does seem as if the people who are serious about disconnecting and reconnecting are also the ones who become more fully present, somehow; for whom life gains perspective.
They must have something to teach us, about the way we can live, from day to day. And how we can play our part – however small - in becoming more present: a part of the landscape, on this very day, within God’s presence. Within the Presence.
* * *
rsvp special:
park life
One of the Lent 40 community, Ben, from Heavitree, Exeter, has helped to pioneer a creative and courageous project in his local park. I invited him to ‘rsvp’ a few thoughts, to inspire us all – as we continue to reflect on how we can ‘be the change’, and become more fully present to the world around us...
“Park Life has evolved over a number of years, but it’s only recently broken the surface. We’re a small group of residents from Heavitree who believe that a community café would be a great idea in our local park. We’re linked by local geography, by how we spend our leisure time and where are kids go to school.
These connections helped us spread an idea into our community. Over the last 18 months, we have run and organised a number of events to build community, to consult with people and to give some momentum to our vision. These include an Eden Project ‘Big Lunch’, an art activity at the bank hoilday fun day, a community football match and a Mother's Day event - at which we gave out tea, coffee, cake and bags to ladies (including flowers, chocolates and free stuff from Lush!). See the photos at http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=103837296335545 . In May we are having a ‘cream tea and lawn bowls’ event.
Our next phase is to draw up plans with an architect and apply for planning permission, as well as starting to start fundraising. A local lawyer helped us to establish charitable status, we have joined the local community association and have started to work closely with councillors.
This is what you find above the surface of Park Life. But the passion for what we are doing comes not just from a love of cafés and parks but a love of people and a desire to help and see lives changed. We loved Mary Oliver’s words from earlier in the Lent 40 series, and thought ‘Fire, Rope and Bread’ would be a great name for the café.
It is a community we are establishing, not a building. There is no hidden agenda, or ulterior motive. We are not secretly planning a cult in the park, or trying to get people to go to church. But the six of us moving this forward are Christians from a range of backgrounds. Personally, I have struggled for years with a nagging feeling that a lot of what I've been brought up thinking and doing in the church has been missing the point; but we have been inspired by reading and listening to people like Rob Bell, Brian McLaren and Michael Frost - particularly his book Exiles.
Below the surface of Park Life is a whole world that we are about to start exploring: one in which there might be a completely different way of doing ‘church’ and even of being a Christian. Not a better way, but a different one. One in which people can belong to something before they believe in something or behave in a certain way - where you are 'in' before you start; not ‘out’, or ‘lost’, but part of the community.
And who knows? Down the line, we might start asking some questions together...”
Do let us know if you have started a local project or are trying something new. It’s often as we read about other ‘ordinary’ people’s ideas and actions that we gain the courage and the energy to have a go, ourselves.
* * *
May you show up, today – wherever you are.
Go well!
Brian
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
The Movement
simplicity // 32
the Movement
“I’d join the movement if there was one I could believe in” (Bono, U2, ‘The Acrobat’)
Wouldn’t we all? Sometimes, we find ourselves becalmed, because we feel let down, by our organisation, or our church, or our friends, or even God. We check out of the movement, if you like. We reach inertia.
Now, that’s not to say that we should always keep moving simply for the sake of looking busy (surely the worst of reasons). But there does come a point when we must take responsibility for our own pilgrim’s progress through life. Others will inevitably let us down, as we, inevitably, let others down, from time to time. And that’s when we need to know - for our self - the reason for keeping on going. Your parents can’t make you believe in God. Your boss can’t make you believe in the work. An e-mail series can’t make you believe you should travel a particular path.
It’s your call(ing).
So, what does ‘movement’ look like to you, this lent? Perhaps, very simply, it means starting to move, again, after a long time of sitting the journey out. Perhaps it means choosing to live deliberately, moving proactively (instead of reactively) through each day, which is a microcosm of your life. Gesture by gesture. Perhaps it means implementing a daily rhythm to your life. Perhaps it means deciding to move towards something – a goal, a dream, a calling – that until now you’ve considered too far out of reach. Perhaps it means moving on, or away from a situation.
Above all, surely it means becoming the movement you can believe in, the one that will make all the difference to the world around you. We must “be the change”, as Gandhi said.
One last thought, then: I wonder how the way you move – whether you’re walking, driving, working, surfing, dancing, running... - helps determine where you wish to get to, in the end? Look out for it, today, as you move on.
* * *
action point:
What is your reason to keep going?
Review your original goal, “I am moving towards...” How much movement have you experienced? What does the way you move through life (frenetically? elegantly? empathetically? ignorantly? compassionately?) tell you about where you want to get to, in the end?
Draw a treasure map of your life. Where are you now? How can you represent that visually? Where do you want to get to? What’s in the way? Where might you find hidden treasure? What’s the terrain like? Who else is ‘on the map’?
If there’s always been something you’d like to do with your life – especially in terms of making the world a better place, and living your faith or beliefs or philosophy more creatively and courageously – then why not do something about it, today? Often it just takes a start; from there, you gather momentum.
Please let us know how you get on – it’s great to hear from you!
* * *
rsvp:
“Today, I wasn’t well, and stayed at home in bed. An unexpected space opened around me. The day took on a completely different quality, as, freed from the constraints of time, I simply lay there and ‘was’. I’d have preferred not to have been poorly, obviously – but it was fascinating to observe the way the day ‘felt’ in the light of your observation about space.” Jonathan
“Amazing! When I got up this morning before I read this I decided to make myself conscious and aware as I travelled through the day. My PA says I already failed! However... As I read your thought it reminded me of the story of filling the jar. A friend stood in front of a group and filled a large glass jar with large stones right to the top. He asked if it it full and the attendees said yes. He then put smaller stones into the jar which fell between the larger stones and asked was it full - the others said yes. He then put tiny pebbles into the jar which fell between the smaller stones and asked was it full - the attendees said yes. He then put sand into the jar which fell between the pebbles and asked was it full - yes. He then poured water into the jar which fell between the sand and silence fell on the room. It made me think that our view on space is relative to how we perceive it. There is plenty of space out there daily to explore and it depends on our mind set whether we fill the gaps with frustration or positive energy. It’s so important that we let our positive energy flow through the jar so we can fill all the space, whether it is with silence or activity, and do it in a way which builds rather than sucks our energy away. Namaste!” Ciaran
“The barefoot experience. What joy! Walking on the hard surfaces of the garden path, not nearly as troublesome as I had expected, indeed more comfortable than shoes. Perhaps to me a reminder that the hard times and experiences we fear are rarely as bad as we expected. But then the grass. Oh, the joy of it. Childlike delight, and understanding perhaps what a cat feels like when it’s ‘making dough’. And a determination and a desire to enjoy this more often - not just back to nature, but back to my creator and my true nature, born to enjoy what he has created with all my heart, my soul, my mind...
“And what of sound, or rather silence? Hard to find in a back garden two miles from Heathrow! I was reminded of what a strange experience it was this time last year when volcanic ash silenced the metal beasts of the air. But yet, even here I can find silence - almost despite my expectations - that still small voice of calm, the peace that passes all understanding... I closed my eyes, and really listened - in a way perhaps I rarely do or have. I could sense direction far better than radar; I could hear one bird which I could place in one tree to my left, and another to my right - I was ‘guided’ to where they sang. These experiences have been such a revelation. I still don’t know exactly where God is guiding me - how can I best serve him at this stage in my life, to the max? But I know, again, that he loves me, is pleased with me, and will never let me go.” Mark
“Oh “the ‘wild place’ - I missed you today. Place of beauty and peace. Place of summer days and winter storms. Place of renewing springs and leave-behind autumns. Place of real earth where God whispers. I missed you today.” Sandra
“I am still managing to use the internet much less and focus on the now, spending more time with my fmaily, especially my children. I have used some of the time to learn to crochet and have made them both bed throws... However, I still struggle with the 'moving towards' as my future is still not certain. Sounds daft when I write it as no-one’s future is, really, but I know my workplace will shut in two year's time and I am still looking for where to go next. I still struggle with the 'waiting' rather than the 'searching' and the 'trusting' insterad of the 'seeking'. This is my goal in the next few days. My soul is quieter but not quietened.” Paula
* * *
May you find direction, today.
Go well!
Brian
the Movement
“I’d join the movement if there was one I could believe in” (Bono, U2, ‘The Acrobat’)
Wouldn’t we all? Sometimes, we find ourselves becalmed, because we feel let down, by our organisation, or our church, or our friends, or even God. We check out of the movement, if you like. We reach inertia.
Now, that’s not to say that we should always keep moving simply for the sake of looking busy (surely the worst of reasons). But there does come a point when we must take responsibility for our own pilgrim’s progress through life. Others will inevitably let us down, as we, inevitably, let others down, from time to time. And that’s when we need to know - for our self - the reason for keeping on going. Your parents can’t make you believe in God. Your boss can’t make you believe in the work. An e-mail series can’t make you believe you should travel a particular path.
It’s your call(ing).
So, what does ‘movement’ look like to you, this lent? Perhaps, very simply, it means starting to move, again, after a long time of sitting the journey out. Perhaps it means choosing to live deliberately, moving proactively (instead of reactively) through each day, which is a microcosm of your life. Gesture by gesture. Perhaps it means implementing a daily rhythm to your life. Perhaps it means deciding to move towards something – a goal, a dream, a calling – that until now you’ve considered too far out of reach. Perhaps it means moving on, or away from a situation.
Above all, surely it means becoming the movement you can believe in, the one that will make all the difference to the world around you. We must “be the change”, as Gandhi said.
One last thought, then: I wonder how the way you move – whether you’re walking, driving, working, surfing, dancing, running... - helps determine where you wish to get to, in the end? Look out for it, today, as you move on.
* * *
action point:
What is your reason to keep going?
Review your original goal, “I am moving towards...” How much movement have you experienced? What does the way you move through life (frenetically? elegantly? empathetically? ignorantly? compassionately?) tell you about where you want to get to, in the end?
Draw a treasure map of your life. Where are you now? How can you represent that visually? Where do you want to get to? What’s in the way? Where might you find hidden treasure? What’s the terrain like? Who else is ‘on the map’?
If there’s always been something you’d like to do with your life – especially in terms of making the world a better place, and living your faith or beliefs or philosophy more creatively and courageously – then why not do something about it, today? Often it just takes a start; from there, you gather momentum.
Please let us know how you get on – it’s great to hear from you!
* * *
rsvp:
“Today, I wasn’t well, and stayed at home in bed. An unexpected space opened around me. The day took on a completely different quality, as, freed from the constraints of time, I simply lay there and ‘was’. I’d have preferred not to have been poorly, obviously – but it was fascinating to observe the way the day ‘felt’ in the light of your observation about space.” Jonathan
“Amazing! When I got up this morning before I read this I decided to make myself conscious and aware as I travelled through the day. My PA says I already failed! However... As I read your thought it reminded me of the story of filling the jar. A friend stood in front of a group and filled a large glass jar with large stones right to the top. He asked if it it full and the attendees said yes. He then put smaller stones into the jar which fell between the larger stones and asked was it full - the others said yes. He then put tiny pebbles into the jar which fell between the smaller stones and asked was it full - the attendees said yes. He then put sand into the jar which fell between the pebbles and asked was it full - yes. He then poured water into the jar which fell between the sand and silence fell on the room. It made me think that our view on space is relative to how we perceive it. There is plenty of space out there daily to explore and it depends on our mind set whether we fill the gaps with frustration or positive energy. It’s so important that we let our positive energy flow through the jar so we can fill all the space, whether it is with silence or activity, and do it in a way which builds rather than sucks our energy away. Namaste!” Ciaran
“The barefoot experience. What joy! Walking on the hard surfaces of the garden path, not nearly as troublesome as I had expected, indeed more comfortable than shoes. Perhaps to me a reminder that the hard times and experiences we fear are rarely as bad as we expected. But then the grass. Oh, the joy of it. Childlike delight, and understanding perhaps what a cat feels like when it’s ‘making dough’. And a determination and a desire to enjoy this more often - not just back to nature, but back to my creator and my true nature, born to enjoy what he has created with all my heart, my soul, my mind...
“And what of sound, or rather silence? Hard to find in a back garden two miles from Heathrow! I was reminded of what a strange experience it was this time last year when volcanic ash silenced the metal beasts of the air. But yet, even here I can find silence - almost despite my expectations - that still small voice of calm, the peace that passes all understanding... I closed my eyes, and really listened - in a way perhaps I rarely do or have. I could sense direction far better than radar; I could hear one bird which I could place in one tree to my left, and another to my right - I was ‘guided’ to where they sang. These experiences have been such a revelation. I still don’t know exactly where God is guiding me - how can I best serve him at this stage in my life, to the max? But I know, again, that he loves me, is pleased with me, and will never let me go.” Mark
“Oh “the ‘wild place’ - I missed you today. Place of beauty and peace. Place of summer days and winter storms. Place of renewing springs and leave-behind autumns. Place of real earth where God whispers. I missed you today.” Sandra
“I am still managing to use the internet much less and focus on the now, spending more time with my fmaily, especially my children. I have used some of the time to learn to crochet and have made them both bed throws... However, I still struggle with the 'moving towards' as my future is still not certain. Sounds daft when I write it as no-one’s future is, really, but I know my workplace will shut in two year's time and I am still looking for where to go next. I still struggle with the 'waiting' rather than the 'searching' and the 'trusting' insterad of the 'seeking'. This is my goal in the next few days. My soul is quieter but not quietened.” Paula
* * *
May you find direction, today.
Go well!
Brian
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