Archives for October 2015

The Best Thing You Can Do with your Life: Sign it Over. (Inspired by Bill Bright.)

I read an arresting blog about Bill Bright, founder of Campus Crusade for Christ, and one of the post-War generation of entrepreneurial American Christian giants—like Billy Graham, Bob Pierce of World Vision, Francis Schaeffer of L’Abri, or George Verwer of Operation Mobilization.

As newly-wed Christians, Bill and Vonette Bright were disappointed with each other. After a quarrel, Bill sensed God tell him, “I want you to make total, absolute surrender to my control.”

They made a list of their dreams—a home in a posh neighbourhood, cars, vacations, and were appalled at how materialistic these were.

So, they literally signed everything to the control of Christ. Home, car, business, all they owned, or would own.

And then they sensed that their future was brighter than ever.

* * *

Bill wrote, “Apart from my salvation, this was to be the most important decision of my life. That day I became a slave of our Lord Jesus Christ, and for the first time in my life I was actually free.”

“We chose that day to put aside our own little dreams, our own aspirations, and our own little puny plans, and embrace his magnificent plans. That day was the beginning of a whole new era, a whole new lifestyle.”

“It’s the greatest decision that we have ever made. It was a total, absolute, irrevocable commitment to the Lordship of Christ.”

“It was the most liberating thing you can imagine.” They committed to “never again seek the praise or applause of men or material wealth.”

And then, Bright said “God in a supernatural way seemed to open up my mind, to give me a vision which embraced the whole world—to reach the world through reaching college students. It was so intoxicating that I almost burst with joy. I wanted to shout the praises of God at the top of my voice. I appreciate the experience of the apostle Paul who spoke of being lifted onto a spiritual plane which could not be described by mere human words…. God showed me the whole world and gave me the confidence that He would use me to reach the multitudes of the world for whom Christ died.” In those few seconds, their lives changed forever.

Campus Crusade for Christ now has a ministry presence in 191 countries, and has 80 ministries under its umbrella, including the Jesus Film.

* * *

Of course, this surrender to God was not without cost. Bill sold his business to focus on reaching college students. He left his course at Fuller where he was training to be a pastor. The Brights were plunged into the financial and career uncertainty.

It is a fascinating, paradoxical story. Bright literally signed over everything to Christ—and the future felt brighter, and he felt liberated.

I think of the lovely old hymn Only a Shadow, “The dreams I have today, my Lord, are only a shadow of your dream for me.”

Amazing thought, that!! Because His mind is exponentially bigger, creative, startling–so his dreams for my blog, or the books I want to write are so much bigger than mine. So, as Bill Bright says, the challenge is seek and “embrace his magnificent plans.” (One of Bill’s sayings was “think huge,” and “then huger still.”) So I need to train myself until it becomes second nature not to act until I sense his guidance, his wind in my sails. To sense his words and direction surge through me before I act.

* * *

When you surrender area after area or your life to God, two things are possible. The surrendered area can be super-enhanced. Or it can be taken away, in the way God led Oswald Chambers to drop the art career which he had trained in for years. Total surrender of your life to God is very dangerous, and, paradoxically, the safest thing there is.

“Ooh” said Susan. “Is Aslan-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion”..

“Safe?” said Mr Beaver …”Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

* * *

Bill Bright tells us candidly that he and his amazing friends in The Fellowship of the Burning Heart failed in their total surrender, but they went right back and surrendered their lives again. And again. This gives me hope as I re-surrender areas of my life which I had surrendered before (unsuccessfully).

My blog, precious to me, which I believe I have surrendered, because, heck, I couldn’t write words which speak to others weekly without his help.

My writing, which has been an area of frustration, failure and sadness, and in which my dreams have NOT been fulfilled…so it is the highest of high time that I surrender it.

My health and weight. Ah, I desperately need God’s help in them. Cannot manage without God. Come, Lord, and control them.

My children and their futures, over which I am so opinionated. I have a University in mind which I would LOVE Irene to go to. Will have to surrender that desire to God.

My house, my possessions.

My precious garden which so little resembles my dream for it

My finances, my business. Oh direct me, Lord, and bless both.

The languages I want to learn. The places I want to see. My husband. My old age! Everything.

There is joy in surrendering it all, again, and again and experiencing the transition, in Bill Bright’s words, from our puny plans to God’s magnificent plans.

On Forgiveness and Creativity: A Personal Experience of the Link

By Anita Mathias

Leafing through past journals, I see that, six years ago, I was stuck. I had spent four years establishing a business, probably the one thing in my life which worked better “than I had asked or dreamed of asking” (something I now pray for my writing!!)

But creatively and spiritually, I was stuck. I missed my native atmosphere of books, words, ideas and poetry. My writing was slow, haphazard, without direction. Uninspired words trickled, slow drop by drop. I was reading my Bible most days, and trying to pray, dully, dutifully, but not really experiencing the electric energy of being possessed by God.

I had had a painful experience at a then-toxic church I then attended, which felt traumatic because it happened at a vulnerable period when I was overworking at our business, which wasn’t really my calling or passion, and was still adjusting to our move to Oxford, and to our new home.

A young woman who had been in a Bible study I had led in that church said she’d seen a vision of my heart—gold with pockets of ashes. Ashes! Exactly!

* * *

So my creativity was blocked and I kept playing this Vineyard awakening creativity song,

Flood over me like a river, my God,
Immerse me in your living streams.
Awaken the song that you placed in my heart.
Spirit, breathe on me.

But I also kept brooding over the incident, and was consumed with a desire for justice, for God to take my side, and deal with all who had injured me, and for me to be able to see that he had done so. Exhausted and overwhelmed at work, I repeated the words of the Old Testament prophets: “With your own eyes, you will see the punishment of the wicked.” (Psalm 91:8). “Though you search for your enemies, you will not find them. Those who attack you will come to nothing.” (Isaiah 41:12)

Like the widow who harassed the unjust judge, I wanted God to “vindicate me against my adversary,” wanted God to judge those who had told untruths about me, and had been unjust and uncaring towards me. Yes, pretty bossy and demanding of me. Oh, my heart had strayed far from the gentleness of Jesus.

And yeah, yeah, not really the best breeding ground for creativity.

* * *

That Christmas we spent a month in New Zealand, and visited Milford Sound, a breathtaking fjord. On the winding mountainous drives to it, we saw a glorious waterfall. Roy, Zoe and Irene clambered like mountain goats up slopes where I could see no foothold. I stood captivated, watching the waterfall in an almost hypnotic state.

A large rock jutted from the crashing waterfall. And behind the rock, debris piled up, sticks, stones, worms, leaves. STUCK, while everything else rushed on to the ocean.

* * *

And I watched, and thought–Oh my goodness, the three people whose untruths, manipulativeness and injustice towards me I still ponder, their lives have rushed on. They have won, I have lost; they are not thinking of me, they have moved on, but whenever I remember those incidents, I fume. And I remain stuck.

And though I had to forgive again and again as the incident returned to mind, I forgave them, there and then the best I could. R. T. Kendall’s convicting Total Forgiveness says you know you have forgiven when you can bless those who have injured you.

Well, I still thought justice would be a rather good idea, but I so wanted to forgive them for my own sake, so I blessed whatever was good in them—the warmth and hospitality of one, the concern for the poor and the environment of another, the kindness of another. I see blessing as a supernatural increase, so I blessed the good and sweetness which had drawn me to these women in the first place, and prayed for it to increase for the sake of Jesus and his Kingdom, both of whom I love more than myself (at least, I think I do). There is a cognitive dissonance between blessing someone, and wishing a Shylock-like vengeance on them. It’s not possible. Blessing them set my heart free from the grumpy pettiness which had possessed it in my season of exhaustion.

* * *

Before that holiday, I had been unable to get back into writing which is my native medium as water is to a kingfisher, as the skies are to an eagle. My sadness was affecting my health, and my kind GP had suggested five free sessions of psychotherapy. The therapist and I had gone through everything…where to write, when to write, routines, sleep.

The missing link was forgiveness.

That done, I felt free and happy. God flooded over me like a river, immersed me in his living streams, awakened the song he placed in my heart. I was writing. I was writing so much. My fingers were still stiff; my confidence had been shaken; what I wrote for the first year or so had little literary value, but still I was writing. I was flying.

I cancelled my last session of therapy.

* * *

You can be a nasty human being and creative, of course you can.

Unfortunately—no, no, fortunately–for me, anger, pettiness, resentments, unforgiveness, chewing the bone of past injuries blocks the creativity which streams down from above, God’s golden stream of thoughts, which, we are told, outnumbers the grains of sand on the seashore.

It’s when I am open to God, when there’s no block between him and me, no sin I am clutching, no bone of anger or injury that I have not relinquished, that I feel ideas and words flood over me like a river, that I feel immersed in those living streams

* * *

Evan Roberts, the catalyst for the stories Welsh Revival had four principles for those who want to experience the fullness of the Spirit. He repeated them at every meeting, leading to more than 100,000 conversions to Christ.

These include:

1 Confess every known sin to God, and seek his cleansing and forgiveness. Forgive everybody – everybody- so your sins may be forgiven.

2 Remove everything doubtful from your life. If you cannot decide whether it is good or evil, remove it. There must not be a trace of a cloud between you and God.

3 Total surrender. Obedience, prompt, implicit, unquestioning, to the Spirit of God. Do what the Holy Spirit prompts without hesitation or fear.

And guess what? These principles are also the grounds for Spirit-Breathed Creativity.

* * *

I’ve read biographies of Shakespeare and Milton, magical writers, or feminist poets like Sylvia Plath; apparently, none of them were very nice people. The beauty of their words thrills the soul, but their words do not change hearts or lives.

But given the shortness of life, why not aim to write beautiful words which might lodge in people’s hearts and spirits, making people happier and more Godward–words which do a little bit to establish the Kingdom of God on earth?

For that we need to be in direct communion with God, without blocks of anger, hostility, unforgiveness, or sin.

Then we can swim in the river, as its streams rush through us; we can write down the words and visions which stream down towards us from above, so that he may run who reads it.

Flood over me like a river, my God
Immerse me in Your living stream

Awaken the song you placed in my heart,

Spirit, breathe through me.

TWEETABLES

On the mysterious, inextricable link between creativity and forgiveness. NEW from @anitamathias1

To live in surrender, & in forgiveness, opens our spirits up to God-given creative ideas. NEW from @anitamathias1

Forgiveness and surrender: conditions for Revival, & for spirit-breathed creativity. NEW from @anitamathias1
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Calm of Mind, All Passion Spent, in Mid-October Days, when the Light is Golden

By Anita Mathias

Viktor Frankl , the Jewish psychiatrist imprisoned in Auschwitz, said there were two races of men, the decent and the indecent, and he observed both races among the German concentration camp guards and the Jewish prisoners.

Well, when my children were younger, they were convinced that there were two races of men, Mathiases and non-Mathiases. Mathiases and “normal people.”

Normal people were allowed to watch television; they were allowed to play computer games; their parents rationed sweets and desserts; they had early bedtimes; their homes were tidy; their mothers cooked dinner at a sensible hour rather than lolling with them on the couch, reading them books. Mathiases, however, went with the flow, and, oh well… On the whole, I think, apart from the first two, my kids were rather glad that they were Mathiases. As for me, apart from the first two, I rather wish we had been “normal”.

Well, like my kids, I often find myself thinking in binary terms, of the two “races.” There is me, and there are normal people. Normal people who have learnt how to cook instead of leaving it to their husbands, and who run a tidy home without thinking about it, and manage their weight without thinking about it, and walk fast for miles, who tirelessly work in their perfect gardens, normal people whose domestic lives are worthy of Instagram and Pinterest and Facebook.

* * *

In these October days when the afternoon light is golden, I work in my garden with a will. I cut back the buddleia and the roses, tug ivy from the old stone walls, and there I go snipping, heaping the wheelbarrow, trundling it off to the compost, amazed at the strength of my body, and I feel entirely normal.

This is, of course, delusional. Any “normal person” watching me would not consider me strong, I imagine, but strong is what I feel.

* * *

Milton describes his Samson Agonistes reaching “calm of mind, all passion spent,” and that is what I feel in these first October days.

I feel mellow. I have lived long, I have suffered, I have made mistakes, oh, so many mistakes, and I have learned wisdom from my folly, perhaps the wisdom was worth the sorrow. My kids learned to walk by stumbling and getting up, stumbling and getting up, with the biggest smiles of triumph on their faces. That is not just the best way to learn to walk. It is the only way. We learn from our mistakes. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom as Blake wrote.

I look at the stones in my garden, river and beach stones we have gathered from our holidays on each of which I have painted one important word. Pray. Love. Laugh. Forgive. Give. Breathe. Read. Sleep. Little garden stones with all we need to know. Remember All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten? All we really need to know we learned in Sunday School. And now the challenge of life is living it.

* * *

I look at the garden stones, and for an instant, in the glory of this golden light, I feel as if I know everything.

I laugh; this is entirely delusional, I know, as delusional as my sense that I am strong as I tug the ivy from the old stone walls around my garden.

But that is what it feels like in these magical moments of calm of mind, all passion spent, in these autumn days when the golden light shines through my garden where I sit at peace with life.

Do you know the feeling? The fleeting sense that you have attained wisdom, that you know everything, everything you need to know to live life happily, and perhaps we do, perhaps we all do, in the secret places of the heart. Perhaps all of us really know all we need to be happy, and if we could live in our gardens, in warm October days when the light is golden, perhaps we would indeed all live happily ever after.

For one doesn’t need to know very much to be wise, to be holy, to be happy. The evangelist Evan Roberts who spearheaded the astonishing Welsh Revival burnt out physically and mentally. At the depths of his burnout, he was urged to preach in church, “even one word.” He stood up, thought and said one word which contained all wisdom: Christ.

On Planting Secret Seeds for the Kingdom and for the Love of Jesus. And on a Role Model of Christian Leadership

By Anita Mathias

I am fascinated by the Moravians founded by the reformer Jan Huss, remarkable for their 24/7 prayer which led to a worldwide burst of missionary activity, remarkable for sacrificial exploits like selling themselves into slavery to be able to credibly preach the Gospel to slaves.

Comenius, a Moravian Bishop (selected by Life magazine as one of 100 most influential people of the last millennium) turned down an invitation to participate in Swedish educational reform, to plant a “hidden seed” of the Moravian simple love of Christ, so that the kingdom of Jesus would grow in future generations. The “hidden seeds” he had to plant in the face of bitter persecution came to life when Count Zinzendorf invited the persecuted Moravians to his now-famous estate, Herrnhut.

* * *

The talk among Christian writers and bloggers often drifts to agents, advances, Amazon sales ranks, platform, Twitter followers, Facebook likes, comparison and subtle showing off. I hear the preoccupation with building mini-kingdoms, building platforms, fame and glory and wealth, and it sometimes seems as if the simple love of the Lord Jesus that made us want to be Christ-followers in the first place gets squeezed out (and sometimes the simple love of writing gets squeezed out too) in the pursuit of success, fame and money.

So when I hear of someone unfocused on fame, platform, recognition and money who quietly sows secret seeds for the kingdom, I am deeply and inexplicably moved, to the point of tears.

* * *

When I was an undergraduate at Oxford University, the Rector of the largest Anglican Church in town, St Aldate’s, was a man called Michael Green (who now, incidentally, attends the church I attend, St. Andrew’s, Oxford.)

I wasn’t a Christian as an undergraduate. I was on a six year break from following Christ, which was most foolish of me, because, you see, I knew Jesus as a teenager, really knew him.

And so the Christian Union at my college, Somerville, used to pray for me, and students from my college and from other colleges used to invite me to St. Aldate’s with them, and I would go when I felt distressed and overwhelmed, and listen to Michael Green intently, and with pleasure.

But of course, being a Christian is all about surrender, moving into the invisible kingdom so that you are no longer belong to yourself but to Him, and without that surrender, it’s just nice ideas–and that surrender I did not make then.

* * *

My daughter Zoe is now an undergraduate reading Theology at Oxford University, and is leading her college’s Christian Union. The Christian Union has a retreat before term, and Rev. Canon Dr Michael Green, now 85 years old, spoke at each of the two retreats—this distinguished writer, apologist and pastor humbly spending a few days with 25 young students.

Zoe was as impressed with the character of the man as with what he said. The subsidized retreat was £22 per head for the weekend, and Michael lined up and insisted on paying his £22, though he was the speaker everyone had come to hear. He signed up for his slots of washing up and spiffying up. If he came too late to get an armchair, he, aged 85, sat on the floor with the students: “No, you came first. You keep the sofa.” He took meticulous notes as the young speakers spoke!!

We were impressed to hear this. Roy said, “Perhaps he is teaching these young leaders what it is to be a Christian leader.” Non-entitled. Willing to serve. Humble. Not self-seeking.

* * *

It was a splendid retreat, my daughter said, and Michael preached it not for money, not for fame, not for his career, or enhancing his platform, but for the love of Jesus. He may not see the fruit of his teaching in these young people’s lives, but he is planting seeds, secret seeds, for love of God, for the Kingdom.

I am a gardener, and I have had a life-threatening illness, and the thought of sowing without knowing if I will ever see the harvest…it’s tough. So I was particularly inspired by how Michael Green sowed seeds whose fruits he might never see for the love of Jesus, sowed spiritual seeds of the love of Jesus, sowing into the foundations of the great and invisible Kingdom which grows and grows, and which shall never pass away.

I heard the awe and respect in Zoe’s voice at observing Michael Green’s humble, exemplary behaviour, an example that will linger long after she has forgotten everything he said. Following Jesus is something that is caught not taught, it is often said. Words are forgotten, but meeting someone whom Jesus has transformed, that one does not easily forget.

I thought of Michael Green pouring everything into teaching 25 young students, and I prayed, “Oh Lord Jesus, do I love you enough? I do not yet. Lord Jesus, increase my love for you.”

* * *

During this summer, I heard Rolland Baker who has taken in thousands of orphans in Mozambique talk with simple intensity about the love of Jesus. I jotted down notes as spoke:

“Following Jesus is putting all your eggs in one basket, one person. There’s only one person you trust, only one you go to.

The point of following Jesus is not that he will make your life work a little bit better, accelerate your path to wealth, health, success, fame… Jesus is the point.

He is not the one who gives you what you want; he is what you want. Jesus himself is the treasure, not the means to treasure.

Jesus is how God gives us the desires of our heart. Everything you need is in Jesus.

Miracles, signs and wonders and the things we tend to seek Jesus for go with the territory. We don’t chase miracles, we chase Jesus and miracles chase us. When we follow Jesus, he follows us. He finds us.

Never chase joy, wealth, fame, health by itself–you will never get it. Chase Him. The rest comes with the territory.

If you base your joy on anything but Jesus, your laughter will turn to grief.

Jesus’ emphasis was himself. He is the treasure in the field.
When you are in love with God, everything that happens is enjoyable because He gives us joy.”

* * *

I listened, and wondered if I loved Jesus enough.

What is the point of being a Christian if we do not love the Lord Jesus? And, oddly enough, we cannot quite create love for Jesus within ourselves.

We increase it within ourselves in only way I know to do difficult things. We put in the work (in this case, reading the Gospels and meditating on them). And we pray to–love Jesus more.

We reach out our hands and hearts, and ask Jesus to fill them with love for Him so that we might be totally turned into fire.

Tweetables

On a striking example of Christian leadership NEW from @anitamathias1

On increasing our love for Jesus, who is the point of the whole Christian enterprise NEW from @anitamathias1

On sowing secret seeds of the Kingdom for the love of Jesus. NEW from @anitamathias1

“In This World You Will Have Troubles.” Reflecting on the Purpose of Suffering

By Anita Mathias

I went into August this year with a lingering irrational sense of dread. In 2014, I found myself unaccountably tired in August after a holiday in Helsinki, and finally went in to my GP with symptoms I had had since 2009. In September, my blood tests showed severe anaemia. In October, a colonoscopy showed colon cancer. On November 25^th, I had surgery for it.

Trouble snowballed during that period. Our business was down by a third. Oops! Our beloved collie Jake developed cancer, and died on October 11. A friend said it was as if he had taken my cancer on himself! We lost our cleaner of five years on whom we had so depended. And, of course, my blog declined month by month as I had little energy to blog!

After surgery, after prayer, I felt that the way of the Spirit for me was not the recommended chemo. I declined it. The biggest risk of my life, a life-or-death one!

* * *

Then this year, everything uncannily turned around. The business is up, both month on month, and compared to this month last year. It’s the same with my blog– (though blogging is something I do because I love it, and because it is a calling). My strength is increasing, month by month. My six month test results were clear. We found new cleaners, a Brazilian couple, cheaper and quicker than the Polish cleaner we lost. We have an adorable labradoodle, Merry.

I look back on last year and think, “Oh my goodness, what was that about? That almost Job-like onslaught of trouble?”

* * *

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions,” Hamlet.

God suddenly arranges for us to deal with battalions of troubles–and goodness, we are so much stronger for all the muscle we’ve gained in the battle; the coping and transcending strategies we’ve learned; the hard-wrested wisdom; the insight into the human heart, and into ourselves.

* * *

Roger Bannister’s training to break the four minute mile included fell running.

You run on fells, Britain’s moor-covered hills, panting, pushing yourself to exhaustion.

And then when you run on a smooth track at four minutes a mile, you feel as if you barely are moving. You settle into deep relaxation. Time is suspended.

Bannister describes breaking the four minute mile, “I slipped in effortlessly. My legs seemed to meet no resistance, as if propelled by some unknown force. We seemed to be going so slowly! I was relaxing so much that my mind seemed almost detached from my body. There was no feeling of strain.”

* * *

“In this world, you will have troubles,” Jesus said. Everyone.

Though, of course, we don’t all bear exactly the same weight of troubles. For the woman in Africa or Asia, struggling to keep her children alive without much security, food or proximity to water, life is hassle, with sudden silver linings of joy in the full moon or sunset, the smile of a child, a filling meal, sleep at night. For the most privileged woman in this country, the Queen, with her baker’s dozen of Royal Residences, and retinue of employees and corgis, life is privilege, with hassle as a dark moon sliver–state dinners at a time other people choose, at which she eats food other people choose, and talks to guests other people choose, an ironic prisoner of privilege.

While being organised and disciplined minimises self-inflicted hassles, they are inevitable—relational tension if you live with other people, and hassles caused by other people’s greed or incompetence: marketing calls, receiving stuff not as advertised, returning it, hassles over the refund, ugh.

* * *

All the hustle and hassle builds muscle, builds character, builds endurance; we run on the fells, so to speak, on the beaches, on the mountains. The difficult thing we dreaded, trouble, challenge, hassle, boredom, being way out of our comfort zone, now feels normal, like running a four minute mile on a smooth track felt almost effortless for Roger Bannister who trained on fells and mountains.

The troubles of life ironically equip us for doing the work we are called to do without being crushed by its hassles. It equips us to fulfil the dream God has placed in our hearts.

Pinpricks of hassle are inoculations, vaccinations, preparation. The small and daily troubles of life prepare us to stand in the time of real troubles, the troubles that Jesus tells us are inextricable from living, the troubles that are inextricable from chasing our dream.

In that day of big trouble, we will stand strong, we will endure triumphantly, we who have so often inoculated ourselves by enduring small trials, small sufferings, small disciplines… And what’s more, we will be able to be a blessing to others.

Tweetables

Reflecting on God’s purpose when we endure the battalions of troubles Jesus promised us. NEW from @anitamathias1

Hassles are like vaccinations, helping us to stand strong, and endure life’s inevitable troubles. NEW from @anitamathias1

Enduring hardship cheerfully gives us the grit to fulfil the dream God has placed in our hearts NEW from @anitamathias1