Anita Mathias | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

The Portrait of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

Just watched this in the Oxford Playhouse, which for always carries a sense of deja vu, and memories of enchanted afternoons watching matinees there for £2.50 as a student. Inflation has disproportionately affected theatre tickets, alas…

It’s based on a simple conceit. Dorian Gray embarks upon a life of hedonism and sensual indulgence. His face remains that of the beautiful 22 year old boy, while his portrait, painted then, shows the corruption of sin and self-indulgence.

His angelic face belies his reputation, and allows him to continue a career of seduction, blackmail and murder. Had his face betrayed his real nature, people would have shrunk from him, and been on their guard.

Living in a university city makes me wonder if character shows on the face when people are young. Most of the young people I see are fresh-faced and gorgeous! However, after, let’s say, 35, cruelty, petty-mindedness, mean-spiritedness do begin to leave their traces on the face. One’s face at 40, I think, definitely hints of one’s true character. At 60 or 70, it reveals it unsparingly in the eyes, the mouth, the cheeks.

Aristotle, “It is possible to infer character from features, if it is granted that the body and the soul are changed together by the passions and desires.”

Scripture has a tip or two about growing old gracefully, “Wisdom brightens a man’s face and changes its hard appearance.” Ecc 8:1

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

By Anita Mathias

Our family listened to Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible on tape on our summer holiday, and were engrossed by it.

It’s the story of an American Baptist family, the Prices, who go out to the Congo to convert “the heathen.”

The father, Nathan, simple-minded and fanatical, is a prototypical “ugly American,” who scarily conflates the American way of doing things and the Christian way. Despite the remonstrances of the local help, he insists on planting his garden in the American way in the soil itself, instead of in the Congolese way, in ridges. The rain washes it all away.

For him, the be-all and end-all of religion is baptism by total immersion. This puts him at odds with the villagers, who are terrified of the river: crocodiles have eaten their children.

Nathan Price browbeats his wife into submission, by tongue-lashings and physical violence. She walks through the Congo in a daze, willing herself forward, one step at a time, dreaming of Georgia. And most of his four daughters, Rachel, Leah, Ada and Ruth-May, would rather be anywhere than in the Congo.

The essential wrongness of transporting unwilling children across the globe to share in their parents’ missionary endeavours is made blindingly obvious. Nothing, I think, can compensate for the trauma and disruption to your own children. They are your primary responsibility.

One of my favourite aphorisms is Mary McCarthy’s “Religion is only good for good people.” Poor Nathan Price is so determined to succeed at converting the Congolese that he is gradually alienated from his wife, his four daughters, the Congolese, of course, and ultimately his own sanity. A tragic anti-hero, he goes on in his own pig-headed way until the book’s searing close, blind to the anguish of those around him while his eyes are fixed on the prize, a converted Congolese village.

Fortunately, Kingsolver creates a foil–Brother Fowles, a non-dogmatic Yankee missionary who respects what there is to respect in Congolese traditions, and quietly helps the Congolese .

As he memorably says, repeatedly, “There are Christians, and Christians.”

The book is written in five voices, that of the five Price women, each of them linguistically differentiated. An epilogue catches up with them, twenty years later. Their characters have proved their destinies.

Barbara Kingsolver herself lived in the Congo as a child with her American parents. She says she has waited 30 years for the wisdom to write this book. And it’s a splendid one!

Dinner, Supper or Tea?

By Anita Mathias

During the 7.5 years they’ve lived in England, Zoe and Irene have been invited by their classmates for dinner, supper and tea, and have puzzled over the difference.

The words are class-indicators, we’ve said, and not wanted to spell it out further, lest they helpfully repeat our rough class guide to their classmates.

Kate Fox in her 2004 book, Watching the English, sorts out the confusion,

One of the most common indicators of social class in Britain is the name and times of meals.

The evening meal:

If you call it “tea“, and eat it at around half past six, you are almost certainly working class or of working class origin. (If you have a tendency to personalize the meal, calling it “my tea”, “our/us tea” and “your tea” – as in “I must be going home for my tea”, “what’s for us tea, love?” or “Come back to mine for your tea” – you are probably northern working class.)
If you call the evening meal “dinner“, and eat it at around seven o’clock, you are probably lower-middle or middle-middle class.
If you normally only use the term “dinner” for rather more formal evening meals, and call your informal, family evening meal “supper” (pronounced “suppah”), you are probably upper-middle or upper class. The timing of these meals tends to be more flexible, but a family “supper” is generally eaten at around half past seven, while a “dinner” would usually be later, from half past eight onwards.

Both girls are out this evening, incidentally, at friends’ houses. One is having tea, one is having supper, and I shall keep this linguistic post to myself 🙂

Two Things in Favour of George W. Bush (from someone who abhors his foreign policy)

By Anita Mathias

I was surprised by how deeply upset I was when, as I saw it, Al Gore was cheated out of the Presidency by the shenanigans in Florida in 2000 (when we lived in Virginia).

And I despised Bush’s invasion of Iraq. And sad that he said he woke up at 5 a.m. to pray, read his Bible and Oswald Chamber’s My Utmost for His Highest--and his foreign policy decisions crystallised in those hours. What?! (Tony Blair’s Bible reading at the time before the invasion of Iraq caused a wobble, and rightly so in my mind.)

I like two things about Bush. One is his ingenuous, much ridiculed and memorable statement that Jesus Christ is his favourite philosopher because he changed his heart.

The other is this from an interview with Tim Goeglein, who wrote The Man in the Middle

You had your own experience of sin and grace when a reporter discovered that some words in unpaid pieces you wrote for a newspaper had been taken from other sources. You describe this in your book without flinching. What happened? How does someone in the White House, especially someone as savvy as yourself, start down that road? And how did the President respond when this came to his attention?

I’m pleased to be asked about this. Proverbs is correct: Pride goes before the fall. But in the words of T. S. Eliot, “humility is endless.”

In my time in the White House, I was becoming a very prideful person. This pride and vanity extended to plagiarizing columns for my hometown newspaper. I was not writing about politics, but about many other things that interested me. Pride takes many forms, and one of them is always wanting to be the brightest guy, the one with something interesting to say. I began plagiarizing these columns. I knew what I was doing, and I knew it was wrong.

One morning I came to work at the White House and when I opened my email I found a reporter asking whether this was true that I had plagiarized these columns. I literally fell to the side of my desk. I prayed, “Oh God, oh God.” I knew right away that the world as I had known it was over on that day. I felt, as I say in The Man in the Middle, that my world was collapsing. By return email, I told the reporter that it was entirely true, and I was guilty as charged. I had no one to blame but myself.

There are, in this world, two kinds of crises. One is where it’s beyond your control, and another is where you’re directly responsible. I was directly responsible, without excuse. I inflicted, as a result of my own sin, shame and embarrassment on the President, and on my colleagues and mentors. I had violated everything I believed in, and was a hypocrite to my wife and children and family. Categorically. So I resigned from the White House that day. That was on a Friday.

On a Monday, I came back to the White House to begin clearing out my desk and taking the pictures off the walls. I received a call from Josh Bolton, who had become a friend from the first Bush campaign when we met in Austin, Texas. Josh was now the Chief of Staff, and he said he wanted to see me. I presumed that would be the proverbial “woodshed” moment, which I thoroughly deserved.

The first thing he asked me was, “How are your wife and boys doing?” Then he extended to me his forgiveness. I was genuinely shocked and deeply moved by this. We spent a considerable amount of time together, and before I departed his office he said, “By the way, the boss wants to see you.”

So surely this, I thought, would be the woodshed moment, and again I completely deserved it. I expected other people to be there, but when I got to the Oval Office the only other person there was the executive assistant. I thought I must have come on the wrong day—but the President called me in. I thought: This is going to be really bad. I went in and closed the door.

I turned to him to apologize, but barely got the words out before he looked me in the eyes and said, “Tim, I forgive you.” To say I was stunned would be an understatement. I tried again to apologize, but he wouldn’t let me. He said, “Tim, I’ve known grace and mercy in my life. I’m extending it to you. You’re forgiven.”

I said, “You should have thrown me into Pennsylvania Avenue.” Again he said, “My friend, you’re forgiven. We can talk about all of this, or we can talk about the last eight years.”

I turned to sit on the couch in the Oval Office, but he directed me to the seat of honor beneath the portrait of Washington, where Heads of State sit. I sat there, and he and I had a conversation about two remarkable presidential campaigns, and what was at that point about seven-and-a-half years in the White House. I was by then one of the longest serving aides to the President. We embraced, and I thought this was the last time I would see George W. Bush. As I turned to head out, though, he said, “I want you to bring your wife and boys here, so I can tell them what a great job you’ve done.”

I was stunned and speechless. The leader of the free world, the most powerful man on earth, wanted to affirm me before my wife and children. Sure enough, my wife and boys came, the President gave them a great amount of time in the Oval Office and gave them gifts. We were invited back to the White House as a family on subsequent occasions. We were there at Andrews Air Force Base for his departure. I’ve seen the President a number of times in Texas and he’s never mentioned it again. So, in my mind, George W. Bush is and was grace personified.

So to go back to your earlier question about compassion: I was the wounded man on the side of the highway. I was totally and completely guilty and undeserving of the President’s forgiveness, and yet he gave it to me without reservation. He extended grace to me at the lowest point in my life.

Living in a Story Still Being Written

By Anita Mathias

Joseph Interprets the Dreams While In Prison - James Tissot

It can take ten thousand years for the light from some of the stars in our galaxy to reach us.

Why should we then expect to immediately understand the story of our lives?
* * *

Joseph, in the well, abandoned, betrayed.

It seemed meaningless–because the next chapter was yet to be written.

Joseph in charge of Potiphar’s household.

The shepherd boy becomes the head butler in an Egyptian country house.

Was that the meaning of the well, and the humiliations of slavery at the hands of the hairy Ishmaelites?

Part of it. The story was still being written. He was in it. How could he understand it?

* * *

The dungeon, punishment for righteousness.

“But, Lord, I thought I understood the plot you were writing. NOW WHAT are you doing?”

Utterly forsaken.

But the dungeon, you see, was the way for the butler of a small manor to meet royalty itself.

The means of Joseph’s elevation to an entirely different social, economic and political circle.

Let no one underestimate the creativity of the Master Craftsman of the Universe.

* * *

We cannot understand the story of our lives while we are still living them. We do not understand the significance of each plot element yet. It takes the retrospective glance to understand.

And my story? It has foolishness in it, things I have done. It has sin in it, my sin. It has sin in it, sins against me. It has injustice in it, injustices committed against me. It has apparent dead ends, and missed opportunities and incomprehension and heartbreak.

And because a master writer is writing it, it has gold in it, infinite possibilities for redemption. I don’t yet know how God will weave all the plot elements together into an eternal beautiful story, and make it all work out for good, but I know he will. He’s that smart.

And I trust him.

Relying on God’s strength, not my own

By Anita Mathias

Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort? (Galatians 3:3).

Funny that that should be one of our struggles, isn’t it, to do things unaided, when aid is available?

It’s certainly one of my struggles. As I wrote yesterday, I am becoming better at waiting to hear God’s directive before I start something.

What I am still no good at is continuing as I started, by relying on God’s power, rather than running in in my own strength.

This is true both for things like blogging or writing, which are strengths, or dieting and exercise, which are weaknesses.

Learning to rely on God’s power and strength, rather than a sort of DIY is going to be a life-long battle.

And until I learn the art of asking for God’s help in my area of weakness, rather than simply failing (diet, exercise) or succeeding by overwork (in leading Bible studies, for instance, a strength, or writing), I guess I will not know what Paul meant when he said, “When I am weak, then I am strong. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” Or hear Christ say, “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.”

The weaknesses I need to rely on God’s strength for are diet, exercise and disciplining myself to be tidy.

And I also need to rely on God’s help in using my strengths–writing and blogging–so that I don’t exhaust myself, and so that what I write has value.

“If God doesn’t tell you to do anything, then why are you doing things? Why not just sit at his feet?”

By Anita Mathias

I am reading, “The Grace Outpouring: Blessing Others Through Prayer. The Amazing Story of God’s Work at Ffald-y-Brenin” by Roy Godwin. Ffald-y-Brenin is a retreat centre in Pembrokeshire National Park, Wales. Roy, Zoe, Irene and I spent a blessed 5 days there in December.

Roy and his wife Daphne, out of their own brokenness, feel called to a retreat centre in Pembrokeshire. They stumble upon the simple act of blessing everyone who comes to them, blessing the valley, blessing the nearby towns. This simple act unleashes miracles–the farmers’ yields go up, the livestock have multiple births, B & B’s win awards, long-submerged streams start flowing. But they don’t seek to convict or convert, just to bless.

* * *

As his retreat centre prospers, and there are miracles, healings and deliverances from oppression, as people encounter the presence of God there, other people come wanting to know his “method.”

But he has no method to pass on. Roy Godwin writes, “The key is searching for God, learning to listen for his voice, burrowing into his heart, listening to what he says, and then doing it, however simple or complex it might be.

If He says it, do it. If He doesn’t tell you to do anything, then why are you doing things? Why not just sit at his feet?”

I love this.

* * *

Because sometimes, God puts you in a place in which learning to hear his voice is absolutely vital and crucial for you. A matter of health and sanity.

For me, as I’ve blogged before, I reached the stage where hearing the voice of God was vital for my life in 2006-2007, when we put both girls into an expensive private school, Oxford High School, and bought our dream house.

It rapidly became obvious that I would need to bring in real money, but how? I had taught Creative Writing at the College of William and Mary before, and found teaching was incompatible with writing, and too great a drain on my energy.

Write rapidly? In retrospect, I wish I had tried that–there have been books knocked off to pay for parent’s funerals (Johnson’s Rasselas) to pay off debts (Dostoevsky’s), but I didn’t have the faith or the energy.

Instead, I decided to start a business. I have three college and university degrees, but all in English and Creative Writing. What an amazing background to start a business with, right?

My first business attempt was exhausting and time-consuming. It was fun (selling antiquarian books) but definitely not sustainable for someone who loves leisure, reading and writing.

And so, as in Psalm 107, I had to continually cry out to the Lord in my distress, because I was SO tired, and SO overwhelmed, and life was SO hard. And he responded by removing the burden from my shoulders, setting my hands free from the basket. He gave me a sustainable idea–publishing the very antiquarian books which were so in demand when I put them up on auction on Ebay.

And that enterprise was greatly blessed because (as far as I could tell), it came from God’s brain, not mine.

* * *

So I stumbled upon the vital importance of what Roy Godwin says, “Searching for God, learning to listen for his voice, burrowing into his heart, listening to what he says…

I do set aside long hours, mostly on holiday (luckily the rest of my family have more hiking and swimming energy than I have) to seek God’s face, rest in his presence, to run through the details of my life with him, checking in with him about them, seeking his wisdom and guidance and correction on what I am currently doing, and seeking his guidance for the future.

* * *

Now I need to work on the second part of this paragraph, which leapt out at me last night. “If he doesn’t tell you to do anything, then why are you doing things? Why not just sit at his feet?” Indeed!! That is the other part of our life which needs to be put through the sieve when in the presence of God.

The things that are draining and sapping you, did God tell you to do them? No? Then just stop. Why not just sit at his feet and wait?

We need to have drastically pruned lives to bear fruit.

* * *

And so, I am increasingly putting my life through the sieve of God’s will.

What does he want me to do in each area of my life? And what I am currently doing which he never told me to do? And this includes innocuous things, good things, helpful things–but which, however, are not things that God told me to do.

A Reward from God

By Anita Mathias

⁵ “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. ⁶ But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. Matthew 6:5