Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

Archives for 2011

Blogging and Thick Skin

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I Am A Woman No Matter What You Say
Rachel Held Evans observes:It’s no secret that blogging requires thick skin. 

Each post subjects your ideas, interests, and feelings to the scrutiny of other people, who through the anonymity of the internet are more likely to tell you exactly what they think. A single post might lead some to call you a hero and others to question your humanity.
  
I used to be incredibly sensitive to criticism.  So one of the many reasons I love blogging is that it has forced me into a healthier relationships with feedback.
I’ve started owning what I have to say and I’ve stopped taking criticism so personally. I’ve become less swayed by the reaction of other people, less vulnerable to the ups and downs of public opinion.
In short, I’ve grown thicker skin. 
Reading her post, I reflected that very personal blogging—shared with tout le monde— on a daily basis, as Anne Jackson did in Flower Dust is an unprecedented experiment in the history of mankind. It requires considerable nervous energy—to not only come up with a thought worth sharing, but cast it into a form worth sharing, and then put it out there for the world’s admiration (or secret contempt or pity). And then do it again, the very next day. And again!!
Every now and again, you witness a blogger you follow, Anne Jackson, in the now deleted Flower Dust, temporarily fragment, go through a very, very dark and rough patch—while they keep blogging and facebooking about it—and you read with the grim and horrified fascination of one watching a car crash in slow motion.
And even if one does try to project a favourable image to the world, any personal blogger ends up making witting or unwitting revelations about her character, and blind spots….
Read enough blogs, and you will realize which posts don’t quite ring true—mainly those in which the blogger attempts to project an image to the world which is more favourable than the reality or attempts to preach, rather than share her struggles.
There is nothing like blogging to toughen one up.
It definitely forces one to grow up and, as Rachel says, own what you have to say.
We are all probably born with an innate desire for approval; it’s probably a biological survival instinct.
However, nobody, not even Jesus (who had a perfect character, except that his outspokenness would be considered a flaw by many) won everyone’s approval.
If one blogs every day—as I try to, while at home—one will inevitably write the occasional trite, boring, poorly written post, and one has to make peace with it.
Additionally, you open yourself and your ideas up to the world, and are guaranteed to sometimes disappoint.
I realize that some of my posts will disappoint readers who seeking inspiration—and I myself often read many blogs looking for just that: reminders and encouragement to continue on the narrow road of discipleship.
Some will disappoint those seeking distraction or stimulation, originality or cleverness –and I too read some blogs simply because they make me think.
I have, a couple of times, mentioned the one issue on which I depart from evangelical orthodoxy, and have known my more conservative friends would disapprove if they read it—and they did, and did!
My (on the whole) evangelical orthodoxy probably annoys some of my liberal friends.
And, it’s struck me, that I haven’t yet begun blogging on the whole charismatic side of my faith, though I have been a charismatic with a small c for as long as I have been a Christian.
While, theologically, I am an orthodox evangelical, I am politically rather left-wing, and viscerally opposed to much of American foreign policy, which probably annoys some of my American readers.
Some posts don’t have much to them, and probably disappoint everyone!!
Blogging teaches one to be oneself—knowing that no one will like all your posts or ideas; but all the same, it is important to own them.
I remember an axiom while I was doing a Masters in Creative Writing—one has to write the bad poems, and get them out of the way to get to the good poems.
It’s the same with blog posts. It’s sometimes good to write down an idea that keeps recurring to you, even if it seems unpromising. Perhaps it is calling out to be explored in greater detail; perhaps it needs to be written down so that you think it through more clearly.
Interestingly, the discipline of writing my ideas down and publishing daily has made me more outspoken and self-confident in real life, and far more willing to express my own ideas with quiet confidence, and to own them.

Dreaming in Stockholm

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Dreaming in Stockholm
Well, Stockholm was a surprise—totally enchanting: a third
water, and a third parks. Hiked yesterday in a virgin forest National Park,
Tyresta within the limits of Stockholm!! 

Wandered today around Gamla Stan,
Stockholm’s medieval quarter, really, really narrow side streets—3 feet across
sometimes, and interesting churches and monuments. Alleys overshadowed by
overhanging pastel coloured buildings.
Then canoed on Stockholm’s canals. Impossibly beautiful.
Interesting Russian style viridian and gold domes—I suppose Stockholm is just across
the Baltic Sea from Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.

The women for the most part are beautiful—in the blond,
blue-eyed, high browed, high cheekboned, oval faced style that Hollywood and
supermodels have made the norm of female beauty. Lots of golden-haired, very
tall Thor-like Scandinavian giants around. The difference from the Russians is
striking, given that that narrow-ish Baltic Sea separates the two peoples. I
guess the Russians are Slavs, while the Scandinavians are Nordic.

I love Scandinavia—our 2009 summer trip to Norway was one of
our travelling highlights. Finances and health permitting, I would like to
explore Iceland, Denmark and Finland over the next 2-3 summers.

Swedish food is surprisingly good. We’ve enjoyed
salmon, crayfish and, of course, Swedish meatballs with lingonberries in
various cafes. Their heavy seeded bread is brilliant with basic cream cheese,
and dilled smoked salmon.  Doing some
self-catering. Like the simplebut very high-quality food.

  

Exploring Sweden in a Motor Home

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Okay, we are exploring Sweden in a camper van. We’ve done 6 motor home holidays (Switzerland, Norway, New Zealand, Ireland and two trips to France). I mostly love camper van holidays—long dreamy days of watching the scenery go by, long times of lying down and praying while we get to places, writing on my laptop while dinner simmers, camping free in lonely wild places, waking up by the sea or lakes or waterfalls, a different one each day, seeing an enormous number of beautiful landscapes in one trip.
The girls though are 12 and 16 and we are in our late forties; are our days of this sort of holiday numbered? I miss my 24/7 internet coverage. Miss spacious showers and baths; there is more clean up in a camper; more opportunities to show grace.

First night was in a 4 star Stockholm hotel with a wonderful breakfast. Sweden is twice the size of England, with a population of 9 million rather than 60 million. 20% of the population are born elsewhere. I guess that is necessary given the low Scandinavian birthrate (a consequence of the high status of women). Sweden was (as a result??) the first country to outlaw the spanking of children.
There is an untranslatable Swedish word lagom, which expresses the essence of Swedishness, medium, not too much, not too little. We found that in renting our motor home, they went reasonably far in helping us (gave us modems and sims, but the tour was rushed and we are finding out that various things don’t work as they should.
Explored a National Park in Stockholm today—Tyresta. Perfect silence, birds, virgin forest, in one of Europe’s great cities. Wow!!

Please pray that our trip goes well, that we remain conscious of the presence of God through it, and that we show grace to each other, and that we use the opportunities of character development and consideration that spending time in confined quarters offers us.

Thoughts on the London 2011 riots

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West Midlands police want to trace these people in connection with the disorder on Monday night

Roy and I stayed up till 2.45 a.m. yesterday following the coverage of the London riots on the Guardian’s live blog and other media and social media.
It was grimly fascinating watching the protests, rioting and looting spread from London to Birmingham, Leeds, Liverpool, Bristol, Nottingham and Kent.

There were however some peculiarly British features which separated the riots from those in Mogadishu to which  the German magazine Spiegel compared it

A burning capital city. Marauding bands stealing whatever they please. A police force that appears to be impotent. And a fire brigade that can’t put out blazes because its rescue forces are attacked by a mob. The television images dominating screens this week could be right out of Mogadishu. As difficult to imagine as it might be, the pictures aren’t from Somalia, but from London, right in the centre of Europe. And they will never be forgotten.

One of these which greatly amused us was that the looters queued outside the jewellery, sporting goods, electronics and mobile phone shops they had come to loot . First come, first served!

I read much commentary on the effective disenfranchisement and disengagement of the young (90% black according to eyewitness accounts) looters from society. In a milieu in which people are defined by what they possess, and wear, and in which the money to buy and own these coveted things is not easily come by, walking into a store cushioned by the safety of numbers of a mob and just picking up an iPod, iPad, sneakers, smartphone, gold chains, diamonds and bling must be an irresistible temptation. Big wants, small or no earnings–that probably played a role in the riots.

Sociologists will be dissecting these riots for a long time. I guess it was a toxic mix of underemployment, an unsatisfying education, poor career prospects, boredom, disaffection,  racism, low stakes in one’s community and society. Perhaps the handouts of a welfare state reduces the incentive to be entrepreneurial, and invent the rags to riches, Horatio Alger autobiography so beloved in America–and which continues to be written there.

Since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to pray. I have long stopped praying about things I do not feel passionately about–because I sense such prayers do not reach the heart of God. And so, instead of praying that the riots stop (which, of course, I should have done) I found myself praying for the individual looters. Young, frightened, confused, insecure and very, very angry people. Praying for a transforming spiritual encounter for them. That they would know the peace and comfort and fellowship of friendship with the Living God.

I would rate my own experiences of the living God somewhere near 1 on a scale of 100 compared to, let’s say,  John Leonard Dober and David Nitschman the Moravian missionaries who sold themselves into slavery to reach the Haitian slaves. But how life-transforming and peace and joy-giving this friendship has been!

I used to think the biggest field for evangelism in Britain was the Asian community–Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, and ethnic Chinese, with their various religions. The Afro-Caribbean community are nominally Christian, and indeed church–very lengthy, joyful services with much singing, smart suits and dresses and fancy hats–is integral to their community life (as I observe on Oxford Sundays).

I heard the Ugandan bishop Zac Nyiringe say at St. Aldate’s that he wished his Ugandan people would love church less and religion less, so that it could spill out of a Sunday morning celebration into weekday life to a far greater degree.

And that is a challenge for all of us!

Can an Individual Change Another Through Prayer Alone?

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I have a good friend, who prays constantly. 


He married, when very young, a woman who’s “feisty,” in his words, and bossy and critical. (They have 6 children, and not much money, so my sympathies are with her).

Anyway, my friend told me that when he sees something he does not like about his wife, or one of his children, he makes a note of it on the little index cards he uses to pray, and takes it up with God.

For instance, he started praying that his wife would be more gentle with him. 

That his son, whose ambition it was to own Microsoft would love God more than money. 

That his children would be less mean to each other. 
                                           * * * 

And most of these things came to pass. 

But not without several changes in my friend himself. These included an emotional and nervous breakdown during which he was unable to work and accepted the Kingship of Jesus over himself (the very Lordship he had so wanted his children to acknowledge.)
                                                     * * * 

Back to my question. Can an individual change another through prayer alone?

Yes, I believe so.  

If prayer works, and is for real–and the whole thrust of Scripture tells us that does and is–than prayer can change anything, including the people we love.

It takes a while, it takes faith–and since God has a sense of humour which borders on the perverse–it might often involves changes in the deep structure of our own personalities. 
                                                              * * *

Prayer is dynamite–explosive in its power–and we are invariably caught in the friendly fire of our prayer for another.

And change, the shedding of our dragon skin–is never without pain.
                                               * * * 

When I see a desperate need for change in someone else, which neither my advice, nagging, bullying or manipulation can bring about, I resort to prayer. (As I get wiser, I am glad to report, this is becoming more of a first resort rather than a last resort.)  And it does work, invariably, in surprising ways.

Hudson Taylor had this amazing goal and motto, “To Move Man, Through God, by Prayer Alone.” He used this in small things (when his employer forget to pay him) and in large, to raise tens of thousands of pounds for the China Inland Mission.

The hearts of people are in the hands of God, and he sways them how he wills. And an old adage goes, “Prayer is the hand which moves the hand of God.”