Green Patches

Recycled Greenpatches - Psalm 51

 

From February 2008 - Psalm 51.

Oh the weather outside is frightful

 

At the risk of bringing the wrath of a certain Archdruid down on my head  - let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Contemplation and navel gazing - float on...

 - the peaceful waters of St Mary's Loch, taken during our Durham-Iona pilgrimage last year

 

The credit for this post goes to Smudgie of wibsite renown, whose description of her floatation tank experience bears an uncanny resemblance to the struggles I sometimes often experience when I try to pray,

 

I did not like the way my thoughts continued to  bombard my brain but without being able to gain a purchase and be resolved…a bit like those squelchy toys you throw against a mirror which sort of stic k but then slither down and fall off onto the carpet where they pick  up all the loose hairs and  fluff. I didn’t go into a meditative state – I went into a teflon state, but still with the myriad of thought-directions sparking off inside my brain…together with a sense of guilt that I should be relaxing.

Teflon prayer - I love it! To stretch the squelchy toy analogy even further,  our son threw  half a squelchy santa way up and out of reach  near the landing ceiling just after Christmas.  We're still waiting for it to work its way back down to earth.   Anybody who  fancies speculating as to what that has to say about my current spiritual state is welcome to have a go. 

 

 

"I saw that he is to us everything that is good"

St Julian's Church, Norwich

 

He is our clothing. In his love he wraps and holds us. He enfolds us for love, and he will never let us go. 

I saw that he is to us everything that is good.

 - Julian of Norwich

Who do you say that I am?

 

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

  They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

    “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

  Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

 - Matthew 16, text Biblegateway

 

To return to our wandering shepherd, now reunited with his friends after a brief if inglorious career as a visual aid at our church's prayer group.

"Who do you say that I am?" Jesus asked  his disciples. The Sunday before during the service, we'd been encouraged to reflect on who Christ is to each of us wherever we currently find ourselves on our journey of faith.  I say encouraged - maybe 'gently challenged' might best describe it. I picked up on this, leading  into our customary time of silent prayer with Matthew's text and a short meditation posing the question once more "Who do you say that I am?"

I guess any of Christ's questions could equally well have   applied just then.  Maybe they did.  He asked plenty of them, after all. "What do you want me to do for you?" Who are you looking for?" "Who touched me?" "Where is your faith?" "What concern is it of yours?" "What is your name?" and dozens and dozens of others.   

But later I fell to thinking about the approaches different  branches  of our faith communities take to those questions, to discipleship and encouraging  each other to grow and change.  Particularly after glancing through another 'Ship' discussion on Altar calls and 'decisionism': the good old call to the front, altar call, sinner's prayer and whatnot. Not all of it unfamiliar to me, in a fairly restrained Anglican version of from my old church. I'll try  not to  get into arguments about soteriology here; they've been pretty thoroughly covered on the thread.  However, my own reflections did get me pondering some aspects of my own journey - and  where I stand now on some of the methodology used over on the more evangelical and charismatic wing of the church, now that I've spent a few years in a slightly broader and more catholic setting. 

More so  given my own moves since into discerment of a possible  call to spiritual direction, my deeper appreciation and understanding of the nuances of peoples' faith journeys. 

Was,  for instance, my group  meditation  an 'altar call' in a different guise? It certainly didn't occur to me at the time that it might be considered to be this.  That my initial feeling was one of slight...only slight and probably  misplaced  - guilt at even an unintended hint of manipulation on my part  is maybe just the lingering remains of  hangups from my previous experiences.  Certainly I find the more laid back style of 'Newchurch' is enabling me to   grow into a way of relating to both God and my fellow Christians that's far more autonomous, less dependent than  before. Living, as well as living with...the questions.

Likewise, I consider my own style to be less 'directive,' more 'fellow pilgrim,' 'companioning.'  That could account for my ambivalence. Am I confusing  directiveness (is there such a word?!) with challenge? That should pose some implications for my own companioning. 

So after all that hot air, no answers...more questions. Which neatly brings us back to Matthew 16: "Who do you say that I am?" 

 

 

Advent - Waiting and hoping

Given my grumblings yesterday, the arrival, not long afterwards, in my feedreader of this Advent sermon by Maggi Dawn was pretty apposite.  God is to be found in the darkness as well as in the light - and :

If we confidently depend upon the knowledge that God's gifts, unlike Santa's, are not delivered to deadlines, then we can live within the seasons knowing that the gifts they represent will come to us eventually - not necessarily on time, and probably when we least expect them.

 - for the rest of the reflection, go here. 

Thanks for the reminder. It speaks very much into where I've been and from time to time  continue to be on my own journey. 

The artwork above comes from my recent retreat at St Beunos, from a grey, grey period halfway through the week when I was struggling with this  sense of 'spiritual  discombobulation.' 

[p.s And for once, the Linkwithin widget's choice of post is entirely appropriate!]

Advent Blog of The Week - The Mercy Blog and Weeble's Wonderings

 

Advent Prayer

 

Lord, still us this today and in this Advent Season – keep us wide awake in these days of waiting. Take from us our anxieties and our preoccupations, our distractions and our despair. Let us be empty in this time before, awaiting your coming with empty hands, and open hearts…

 

Lord, prepare us for your coming. Fill us with the hope of your judgement, and a longing for your justice. Let our hope and our prayer be always for this broken creation of which we are part. Have mercy on all who suffer, human or animal. Help us to bring the good news of your coming, the comfort of hope, the joy of this new kind of waiting…

 

Amen

 - with thanks to Mike F of The Mercy Blog

One evening last week, I was  in  our contemplative prayer group at church, when, towards the end of the session, I was suddenly, as I've described it to myself 'hi-jacked' by a memory  of an item which I'd read in the paper earlier in the day: a particularly horrible example of  pure, gratuitous violence towards a poor, helpless animal, the which defies all belief and about which I simply can't bring myself to give any more details here.  There followed  a  fraught few minutes whilst I  tried alternately to a) push the distraction aside, or b) give  it to God, which last unfortunately and again without giving any details (shudders) seemed unavoidably to involve 're-living it.'  All clever theological explanations seemed pretty irrelevant  just then, and to be honest, pretty feeble, too. We're back to that evergreen topic of theodicy 'How could you, God?'

I've since re-commbobulated myself, so to speak...just, and can see, I think, that this struggle was likely the latest in a series of 'answers,' to a prayer I made leading on from what I brought out of retreat. Why I should be surprised, I don't know. I do think prayer should come with a health warning, though.  Do Not Be Surprised If You Get What You Ask For. 

So the petitions in the prayer "Have mercy on all who suffer, human or animal..." resonates with me as we begin Advent.

 

 

Over on A Weeble's Wonderings Avila reflects on the ever-present struggle with life-work balance and the need to know when and to press those 'recharge' buttons. I chose it for personal reasons; thanks be to God their situation is not my own although some of the issues mentioned do touch several loved ones close to home. It was the final paragraph that spoke to  me however. The 'Who Am I? What Am I?' question and my tendency to define myself solely in relation to the role (I perceive) other people see me in and to whether I shape up to that perception,  has been around now as long as I can remember. We Are Improving slowly....which is good...yet still very much a Work In Progress...

I started with the title 'Who am I? What am I?' - when we can no longer answer these about ourselves, rather than just in relation to other people or roles, then it is a sign we need to find respite, and to find ourselves again.

 - A Weeble's Wonderings - Who Am I? What Am I?

 

  

 

 

Franciscan Advent Resources - Peace Made Flesh

From the Franciscan Friars of The Holy Name -  this was published  in 2008; I gave it a mention last Advent , but could easily be used again each year.

Elegiac

 - image credit: Wikimedia Commons courtsey of The Prints and Photographs Divison, Library of Congress

'Elegiac', Dictionary.com's 'Word of the Day' is strangely apt...

Francsican prayers of peace from the Francsican JPIC: Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation Group can be found here.  

There will be vigils for Prayers for peace  on 17 September from 8 pm to Midnight at both the Covent Chapel in Freeland and at St Mary's  Bridge Chapel in Derby. These have been arranged by the JPIC representatives in the two areas and anybody nearby is welcome to join them for all or some of the time.

 

 

Pilgrimage Companions

It wasn't only feathered friends  that we encountered on our recent pilgrimage. Once we'd crossed the border into Scotland, these hairy though friendly beasties featured largely.  As for sheep - (and who would have guessed how fascinating they can be; I tell you, all life was there), twixt Northumberland and Argyll, we spotted so many thousands of them, that, theoretically speaking at least, we should never again suffer  any problems with insomnia!

So to our Grand Tour; I've jotted down a few fledgling thoughts about the trip over on my Musings blog and some odd...(very odd) reflections on the legacy, so far of our journeyings for me personally.

Which is where our  hirsuite Highland cattle enter into the picture. The connection between them and running amok with a paintbrushful of heritage sage and buttermilk will likely seem rather tenuous to the uninitiated. To this struggling contemplative it's making increasing sense.   Daisy, Ermintrude,  Charlie or Hamish, and my good self, have one trait in common - we ruminate; we chew the cud, constantly and, in my case often confusingly, to the detriment of my prayer. It leads to the Dreaded Distractions.  Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with ruminating. In fact, proponents of holy reading (Lectio Divina) liken the second stage of the process (meditatio) to just that. I doubt, though, that they intended it to take on all the characteristics of a cloud of highland midges descending on an unsuspecting hiker!  

 

I'm sure I've mentioned here that activities like singing help me to focus in. Now,whether struggling to keep upright in St Columba's Bay has anything to do with it, but since returning home, I've also begun to discover a renewed satisfaction in creative activities, especially those like the gardening and DIY. Who would have thought that a mundane job like trellis painting could free up my mind and enable me to meet with God. 

Now, if I was only one of those Christians of a particular flavour, I could now declare: "The Lord spoke to me and said: 'Get thee hence to Robert Dyas and Wilkos, whereat thou wilst find a veritable corncupia of colours. Choseth thou a couple of (suitably restrained shades; this is suburbia after all), get thee hence  to thine abode and reneweth thou thine garden furniture'"

" But Then The Lord in his/her wisdom waiteth until the first coat hadst been applied, before sending a week's worth of rain." 

Oh well.