One
of the tightropes that every minister has to walk is deciding how open to be
about the things that are going on in your own life.
If
you never talk about anything personal, your congregation will feel like they
don’t really know you, or that you operate on some spiritual plane that’s far above
the grid of everyday life.
But
if you go to the other extreme and talk about everything that goes on in your
life, you’re going to turn people off because you’ll come across as needy and
narcissistic. They have a word for that kind of behaviour in today’s world –
they call it ‘oversharing’.
So
what am I to do today? My dad passed on two weeks ago after a long spell of
illness. What am I going to do with that on my first Sunday back in the pulpit?
Gloss over it as though it didn’t make a blind bit of difference to how I’m
feeling today? That’s the classic way men deal with things isn’t it? Man up,
give nothing away, keep a tight lid on your emotions. Which is probably why so
many middle aged men end up shouting at the television during Question Time, or
hurling abuse at referees on Saturday afternoons. The emotion has to get out
somewhere….
No.
I don’t want to gloss over my circumstances today. It would feel totally incongruous to do so.
But I don’t want to overshare either because you came here today to be touched
by God’s story, not hear about mine.
So
if you’ll bear with me, I’m going to try and find the middle way and offer some
honest and realistic reflections of what it’s like to be in this kind of place,
and then talk about how God looks after us when we find ourselves there.
A
phrase from CS Lewis kept coming into my mind over the last few weeks. It’s
from one of his lesser-known books called the Pilgrim’s Regress, which tells
the story of a man called John and his long and arduous journey towards faith.
At
one point near the end of the book, John’s exhausted from all the trials and
temptations he’s faced on his travels, and Lewis says this of him. “He had never in his life felt more weary,
and for a while, the purpose of his pilgrimage woke no desire in him”.
Now
I’ve had spells in life where I’ve felt more weary than I do today, and I’ve
found myself facing more distressing circumstances than this over the years.
But that phrase about the purpose of his pilgrimage waking no desire in him?
That’s where I find myself today.
I
find myself echoing Ian Grove’s question from last week and adding a few more
of my own. What’s it all about? Where’s it all going? What’s the point in
anything? Just now, I have to confess, I’m finding it hard to summon much
enthusiasm for anything.
Maybe
ministers aren’t supposed to say that. Or maybe we are, and we do our people a
disservice when we try to pretend those feelings away.
For a while, the
purpose of his pilgrimage woke no desire in him.
Have
some of you been in that place? Are some of you in it right now?
It
could be because someone’s died. But it could be because hope has died, or
plans have died, or a relationship has died, or an opportunity has died. And for a while, that’s all that’s on your
horizon. That loss. You feel reduced, somehow. Less than yourself. One
dimensional.
It
feels like someone’s walked away with part of your life, or part of your heart.
Your old familiar life has suddenly become unfamiliar and strange.
And
before anyone leaps in with a gospel bomb to tell us that we shouldn’t be down
because Jesus loves us, remember that that same Jesus had to take himself off
into the hills to be alone when he heard the news that his cousin John had been
murdered. That same Jesus – the Lord of Life! - stood and wept at the grave of
his friend Lazarus when death claimed him.
There’s
a brand of Christianity that wants to pretend grief and loss away as though
they were some kind of failure of faith. Folk from that school of thought need
to spend a wee bit of time in the Psalms, I think. The Psalmists never pretend
their anger, their confusion or their sorrow away – they own them and they
write about them with brutal honesty. But in the silence that falls once they’ve
finished venting, they always find God waiting there for them.
And
he waits for us too. In the silence. In the desert places where our pilgrimage
no longer wakes any desire within us.
“Because of your great compassion you did not abandon them
in the desert.” Words that Nehemiah prays before the people of Israel;
reminding them of their history, and us of ours. Our God does not abandon us in
the desert times. As the Psalmist says -
Where
can I go from your Spirit?
Where
can I flee from your presence?
If I go
up to the heavens, you are there;
if I
make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I
rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I
settle on the far side of the sea,
even
there your hand will guide me,
your
right hand will hold me fast.
And
that’s all well and good, some might say. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’m on
my own with this. If God is with me,
then how is God with me?
Well
as he retells the story of Israel’s escape from Egypt and years in the wilderness,
Nehemiah gives us three answers to that question.
Firstly
he talks about the pillar of cloud and the pillar of fire that travelled with
the Israelites, symbolising God’s presence with them:
“By day
the pillar of cloud did not cease to guide them on their path, nor the pillar
of fire by night to shine on the way they were to take. “ Nehemiah 9:19
What
do those pillars represent? They’re all about presence, reassurance and
guidance.
God
travelling with them in that way gave the Israelites orientation in an
otherwise confusing landscape; it helped them know which way to go. It
reassured them that they were not alone.
And
those are precious gifts in the landscape of loss.
How
is God with you in your own desert places? In the presence of those who’ll
travel those bleak roads with you, those whose company says at least as much as
any words or advice they might give you.
Do
you have people who will sit with you and listen to you without judgment? Who
make the time to help you untangle the knotty ball of your thoughts and
feelings? Folk who gently, kindly, help you take the next step forward, even if
it’s just a small one?
If
so, you don’t need to wonder where God is. He’s with you in them.
And
he’s with you in Spirit.
Nehemiah
says ‘you gave them the pillars of cloud and fire’ and ‘you gave your good
Spirit to instruct them’.
God’s
spirit is with us through it all; but as we all know, the Spirit speaks in a
still, small voice; one that’s easily drowned out by all the noise in our
lives.
And
maybe that’s as it should be. It’s those who seek who find. It’s those who
listen hard who hear.
Every
teacher knows that if you keep raising your voice to get a classes’ attention,
it eventually stops working. If you lower your voice and keep talking, the kids
think they might be missing something and start listening in!
God’s
Spirit is with us, and wants to speak to us. But when things are difficult for
us, we try and numb our pain with distraction. We hit the internet, we gorge on
box-sets, we eat too much, we drink too much, we never let ourselves slow down.
You know how it goes.
And
it’s hard for the Spirit to speak through all of that.
And
that’s why, when we’re down, it’s important to make the time to consciously listen
for what the Spirit’s saying, because the path to life often goes in the
opposite direction from where our instincts want to take us.
You
may be wired differently, but when I’m down, I just want to retreat. I want to
avoid people. It took a lot of effort to go to church the Sunday after dad
died, but I felt the Spirit nudge me in that direction and afterwards, I was
glad I went. I met folk I hadn’t seen in 30 years. People who had kind words
about my father.
The
minister who took the funeral offered to meet up for coffee, and not really
knowing him, my first instinct was to
retreat and find some reason to say ‘no’. But again, I felt the Spirit nudge me
in the opposite direction, and we ended up having a very good and life-giving
conversation as colleagues.
When
I got back home late last week, I was swithering about going to see the NEOS
photography and painting exhibition in the White Horse because I knew I’d meet
folk who know me, and I didn’t know if I had the heart to make conversation
with them. To cap it all, it started
lashing with rain, and that was my mind made up.
Until
God gave me another wee spiritual nudge and I finally gave in and went down to
Balmedie and spent a really enjoyable half hour talking with a couple of local
photographers and admiring their work. It brought me out of myself. It got me
out of that avoidance mindset.
They
were just subtle nudges and hints. Easily ignored. But the more I go on in
life, the more sure I am that the Spirit speaks to us. It’s just that most of
the time we’re too distracted to pay much attention.
When
you’re low, remember that God’s with you in the ones who journey with you, and
he’s with you in Spirit, if you have ears to hear.
And
lastly, he’s with you in the gifts that sustain you.
“You did not withhold your manna from their mouths, and you
gave them water for their thirst.” said Nehemiah. Practical gifts.
For us, over the last couple of weeks, it wasn’t manna, but a
shepherd’s pie someone gives in to the manse so we didn’t have to cook. Offers
of lifts or childminding. People travelling across to Ireland for the funeral.
Cards and messages from dozens of different people. Hugs. Supportive words.
Colleagues ready and willing to offer help.
Where is God in my time of need? He’s in those gifts and in the
thoughtfulness of those who gave them.
And he’s in the gift of the little things we do to look after
ourselves, and be kind to ourselves, when life is tough. Taking a walk; seeing
a friend; giving ourselves permission to do something we love to do and not
feeling guilty about it.
It’s all part of the healing God brings.
For a while, the
purpose of his pilgrimage woke no desire in him.
For
a while. But not forever.
Feelings
are transient, however powerful they might be. What feels all-consuming just
now, may, in a month’s time or a year’s time, seem much more manageable.
But
we’re not a month or a year down the line yet. We’re here, as we are. And God
knows, and God understands.
We
are not alone.
God
is with us: in the people who journey with us; in his Spirit, and in the gifts
that sustain us through the difficult times.
And
the God we worship is the one who in his own good time, promises to bring life again,
even in the desert places.
1 The
desert and the parched land will be glad;
the
wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
it
will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
3 Strengthen
the feeble hands,
steady
the knees that give way;
“Be
strong, do not fear;
your
God will come,
he
will come to save you.”
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