Anita Mathias | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

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

On Breaking the 22 Minute Mile, and Stumbling on Happiness

By Anita Mathias

When I was 12 years old, I read Roger Bannister’s account of breaking the 4 minute mile, pushing himself to the outer limits of human possibility, “collapsing almost unconscious, like an exploded light bulb”. I was inspired–and astonished. Run a mile in four minutes. The thought of it still baffles me!

I walked a mile yesterday, sweat-drenched, heart pounding, lungs aching. My app Runkeeper, informed me that it was my fastest ever. 21 minutes, 15 seconds.

I had broken the 22 minute mile.

And I felt unreasonably happy. I have never been fit, and, after colon cancer surgery, was walking a mile in 33 minutes, then 30, then 26 minutes with pride, 25 minutes with incredulity, a 24 minute mile with dizzy joy.

* * *

George Malkmus’s God’s Way to your Ultimate Health inspired me to decline chemotherapy after Stage III colon cancer to instead strive for super-nutrition to boost my immune system (so as to combat any remaining cancer cells). Malkmus recommends a practice which he says will change your life, and may even save it: Walk a mile as fast as you can, record the speed; continue trying to walk faster until you can walk 1 mile in 15 minutes; then 2 miles in 30 minutes; 3 miles in 45 minutes, and finally 4 miles in 60 minutes.

So here I am shooting for a 15 minute mile, beating my speed most days by a few seconds. My 16 year old Irene speed-walks a mile in 11 minutes. Why should I be happy about walking a 21 minute mile?

Because it is my personal best; because I have worked for it; because I have got better. So much better

That’s one secret of happiness. Let your trajectory bring your joy. In my twenties, I read 60 meaty books a year (and was sad that I was not reading more.) This year, I have read substantially less than that, but instead of allowing it to be a source of deep sadness , I am happy because I am reading more than I did last year.

Take joy in the arc of your improvement—an easy secret of happiness.

* * *

When my husband Roy took early retirement in 2010, I wanted him to make all my garden dreams come true. Promptly. I wanted him to construct a waterfall, an artificial stream, a herb garden for starters. But he thought he should make us some money.

We had entered a new phase of our lives, with him working from home, and me trying to write. So we wisely sought counsel.

I sadly told the counsellor the garden dreams of my teeming brain, and he, in turn, told us a fable.

“There was once a man whose dream since youth was to be a millionaire. But the years passed, and middle age passed, and it seemed his dream would remain a dream.

Saddened, he thought, “Well, I have always wanted to be a millionaire, and now the end draws nigh, and it looks as if I am to be disappointed. What should I do?”

And then he thought, “Perhaps I could have a little of the millionaire lifestyle? Is there anything a millionaire has that I could have?”

And then he thought: “I bet millionaires change their razor-blades every day. And I can afford to change mine. So while I cannot be a real millionaire, I can be like a millionaire when it comes to razor blades. I can be a razor blade millionaire.”

Silly little story, I know, but I am adopting that way of thinking.

* * *

My garden is huge for England, for anywhere. One and a half acre. I have so many garden dreams. I want edible hedges, an edible lawn and edible inter-planted flower beds. I want to grow all my own fruit and vegetables. A bog garden? A larger rock/alpine garden? Oh, and I want to spend no more than an hour a day doing this, and two hours on Sunday.

We’ve lived in our home for ten years, and in the early years, I was sad at the mismatch between my garden dreams and my garden reality. Frustrated, disappointed and overwhelmed, I would stop gardening for months at a time, and my garden became a shaggy overgrown Sleeping Beauty garden.

It’s still a bit shaggy, let me confess, but what I do now is take joy in each herb, each fruit tree, each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings, admire its beauty. Many of my garden dreams may come to pass; others might not. They may be too wild, impractical, time-consuming or expensive. But I will enjoy my garden such as it is, even though I have planted less than a tenth of what I want to.

* * *

Creativity, creativity… I have so many stories and ideas which I have not yet written down. My writing career, if I have one, will not resemble the one I dreamed of.

But… but… but… creativity is its own reward. The joy of creating things, of making beautiful things, is its own reward. And so I am grateful for what I do write, even if it is in no way as plentiful or as beautiful as I hoped for. I am grateful for those who read.

Happiness partly lies in making peace with the life we have, rejoicing in its beauty. Happiness lies in thanking God for the silver lining in all things.

Today is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it: I often tell myself that. This is the life, the marriage, the work, the garden God has given me, and they are all good. And I will rejoice and be glad in them.

* * *

Happiness to me has become the minimum requisite as I go through my day. I often do a spot-check and ask myself, “So Anita, are you feeling happy?” And when the answer is no, it’s often because circumstances, or people, or my writing are not behaving the way I want them to.

But then I think, “Not being happy, that’s nonsense. There is so much good in the very people who are annoying me. There’s so much good in my world—a loving husband and loving children; a large dream house; a large dream garden (in its size and blank canvas-ness); a labradoodle!; health (phew, yes, unexpectedly); friends; work I love, books to read, the time and ability to travel, enough income to be happy; so many interests to make me happy: art, film, architecture, literature, nature, gardening. And I live in a beautiful old God-breathed world full of fascinating history, beauty, culture, good people. I will choose to dwell on beauty. I will choose to be happy.** And because I am naturally sanguine, thank goodness, even in the process of giving myself this pep talk, I become happy again.

* * *

I have a friend who is uncannily like me. He delighted in running faster and faster, beating his personal bests. When his knees went, and he could no longer run, he delighted in walking further and further. As middle age hit, and he maxed out on the distance he could walk in his available time, he bought a treadmill, set it on incline, and walks ever-steeper “hills.”

Ah, I too enjoy quantifying my life. It adds fun to it.

But what happens when we age, and can no longer walk faster, grow stronger, break records in our own personal Olympics? When strength fails, and one can no longer write more words or read more books in a year? What then?

* * *

Well, I thought, when I can no longer crunch personal bests in all my endeavours, I will take joy in the Lord. I will enjoy his goodness, the world he has made, and his love for me. I will enjoy the ever-changing canvas of the skies, the subtle and glorious change of the seasons. I will think of Jesus, and I will enjoy Jesus. I will meditate on scripture, those wonderful words; I will enjoy Scripture. I will enjoy God. I will be happy. Yes, I will be happy.

And then I thought…all these lovely ways in which I intend to find happiness when I am old, and can no longer walk faster, read faster, write faster; when I am totally amused and at peace with my own unimpressiveness—you know what? I can do them right now.

All those ways in which I plan to be happy when I am aged, I will be happy today while I am middle-aged.

Yes, starting today.

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On being as wise as a serpent and as gentle as a dove

By Anita Mathias

“I am sending you out as sheep among wolves,” Jesus says.

You would imagine that a sheep among wolves would stand no chance at all. Not for a second!

And that’s how Jesus sees us Christ-followers. As sheep among wolves.

Yes, I have sometimes been a sheep among wolves…in toxic situations where I sense pretty much everyone was lying to me, about me, lying about events, danger I sometimes sensed, and sometimes did not. Where I was innocently in over my head in fraught, loaded situations in a toxic church I was once in; situations to do with business, or money, or in-laws. Experiences in my travels, or dealings with officialdom, where I had no power, and they apparently had it all, and all seems dark and hopeless.

You are in a fog, a fog of minor evil, where you are powerless, you don’t know what the truth is, and few seem to be speaking it.

What do you do in this fog, where everyone has their own agenda, and no one speaks truth to their neighbour? You shut up, as much as you can! You go still. You pray. I love Rumer Godden’s analogy in In This House of Brede—The more a bird caught in a net struggles, the further it gets entangled.

Yes, everything seems dark and hopeless, and then, suddenly, the fog clears, and there is light, and as if by magic, the situation resolves. In ways better than you could have hoped for.

What worked this magic? How does the fog sometimes lift?

Ah, the great Shepherd had his eye on his sheep all along, it turns out

We are sent out as sheep among wolves since the Great Shepherd knows it is safe to send us out.

What hope has the sheep among wolves? Only that the eye of the good and powerful shepherd is upon it. And that is enough.

* * *

When Jesus sends his disciples out as sheep in the midst of wolves, he offers them just one bit of armour, one bit of protection: Be as wise and shrewd as a serpent, and as innocent as a dove.

Because the life of Jesus is in us, because we are trying to march to a different drummer and do the right thing and obey the voice of Jesus, we are to be careful. We are telling the truth among people who might say whatever is necessary to achieve their objectives. We are trying to remain pure of heart among those playing to win. We are playing by different rules

So we need to be as wise as we possibly can, without sinning.

Oh dear, how can we be as shrewd and wise as a serpent, if we don’t feel very wise as I generally do not? If we despise being tricky?

We ask Jesus, the source of all wisdom for wisdom and guidance, step by step.

* * *

I love the heart-expanding call to love, to be merciful, to be open, giving to everyone who asks of us, to keep our hearts pure and kind.

I love too the call to wisdom, which is for our protection, we fluffy woolly sheep among wolves.

Be wise as a serpent who keeps its own counsel, who knows how to wait, who listens to signals and instincts deep within its blood and bones, resting in winter, moving fast when it needs to.

Elsewhere Jesus counsels, “Do not cast your pearls before swine, or they will trample them underfoot and then tear you to pieces.”

Be wise as a serpent when we know we are dealing with those who would abuse our generosity and kindness and rend us to pieces, who might twist our words and gossip about us.

It may not be possible to edit them out of our lives; we may belong to the same church or social circle. We may be related to them through blood or marriage, for a man’s enemies are often from his own household, as again Jesus warned us.

So then, heeding our instincts, we limit dealings with the unsafe, dangerous ones to limit the risk of being trampled underfoot and torn to pieces. We are careful about what we say in their presence and we say as little as possible. We avoid them as far as possible as a sheep instinctively avoids a wolf, as wild animals instinctively avoid larger animals and humans.

How grateful I am for these checks and balances. “Give to everyone who asks of you,” “love,” but also “Be wise as a serpent.”

* * *

Following Jesus is a bit like playing chess. There are rules and commandments, but infinite freedom and variations within it. It is not mechanical; what fun would there be in that? We need wisdom; we need guidance; we need to listen to Jesus before we move in fraught situations. We need the Spirit who will teach us what to say in tricky situations.

Ah, learning to follow Jesus…the task of a lifetime…and a rewarding one!

Image Credit

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What protection has the sheep among wolves? Only that the eye of the good shepherd is on it. NEW from @anitamathias1

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A God’s Eye View of the Migrant Crisis

By Anita Mathias

Migrants outside Keleti Station, Budapest

Over the last month, Europe has been convulsed by a dramatic migration crisis. Thousands of thousands of predominantly Muslim refugees and economic migrants from Syria, Afghanistan, Eritrea, Iraq, Pakistan, Nigeria and Somalia, often armed with Iphone 6+s, marched or were smuggled through Turkey, Greece, Macedonia and Serbia to Hungary, and then on to Austria, Germany, Sweden and other Scandinavian countries.

“This is an invasion,” said Hungarian Catholic Archbishop Laszlo Kiss-Rigo. “They come here with cries of ‘Allahu Akbar. They want to take over. They behave in a way that is very arrogant.”

In Britain, Rev. Ian Paul quotes MEP Daniel Hannan: Should we contract out our immigration policy to people smugglers? Instead of those in the camps who have been classified by the UN as refugees, should we allow a lucky few to jump the queue by breaking the law?

The conservative blogger, Adrian Hilton, Archbishop Cranmer, pointing out that, for the last six years, Mohammed has been the most common name given to British babies, cites Oxford demographer David Coleman: Through immigration and procreation, Britain will be a majority Muslim country by 2050, Which may be precisely what every citizen wants. Or may not.

I then read Rev. Giles Fraser, the Loose Canon, whose hyperbole seems to me to resonate with the heartbeat of God. “Take all of them? Surely that’s the biblical answer to the “how many can we take?” question. Take every single last one. Let’s dig up the greenbelt, turn our Downton Abbeys into flats and churches into temporary dormitories. Yes, it may change the character of this country. But let’s do whatever it takes to open the door of welcome.”

I read Left, Right and Centre, and then, confused, I pray. I ask God “So! What do you want me to think? What is your heartbeat? What do you think about this?

* * *

1 When you fly high, you cannot see borders between nations. Mountain, valley, forest all merge. It’s all one.

God sees a borderless world. His world.

The Biblical writers reiterate that God has compassion on all that he has made, all human beings. He is even concerned about the animals that might perish were he to judge Nineveh.

He loves the Syrians fleeing violence, and the Eritreans fleeing indefinite conscription for both men and women, virtual slavery, with sexual and physical violence, while the family at home struggle. And he loves the coiffed, diamonded European matron who wears the net worth of the Eritean’s entire village on her person. He loves refugees, and he loves economic migrants who subject themselves to danger, hunger and thirst to gain a fulfilling life for themselves and their children.

When he sees his children safe, out of danger, well-fed, well-educated and happy, He is happy.

2 What is the Spirit saying to the church? To Christians?

The great words spoken by angels whenever they encounter mortals, often repeated by Christ: Do not be afraid.

Do not let your hearts be troubled; neither let them be afraid.

Let nothing disturb thee; let nothing affright thee. All things are passing, God never changes.

Whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding as it should.

As the BBC economics editor Robert Peston wrote recently, “immigration promotes growth.” Economist Michael Clemens for the Centre for Global Development writes A world without borders makes economic sense. The world impoverishes itself much more through blocking international migration than any other single class of international policy. 40% of adults in the poorest quarter of nations wish to move permanently to another country. Preventing them from doing so causes more than just human harm: it hobbles the global economy, costing the world roughly half its potential economic product.

The Atlantic: Economists agree immigration is good for a nation. They term it “Immigration surplus:” the positive effect immigration has by creating new demand for goods and services, which encourages employers to hire more people. And if migrants replace incumbent workers, even though wages are lowered, goods and services are produced more cheaply. The winners are broadly distributed and the primary losers are incumbent workers, whose wages fall until the resulting economic growth boosts their wages.

The Economist: Migrants are net contributors to the public purse. They inject economic dynamism. They are, almost by definition, self-starters.

In the United States, the world’s largest economy and richest country, 12.9% of the population are foreign-born according to the latest census, and 11 million, 3.5% of the population are illegal immigrants. For generations, the US has led the world in the arts, sciences, technology, business, you name it…

2B. I am an immigrant myself, twice over, actually. I became a US citizen while I lived in the US for 17 years, and then a UK citizen when we moved back here 11 years ago. (My husband, Roy, is also a New Zealand citizen!)

Admittedly, we did not enter illegally. I don’t have the stomach for that–though faced with being aerially bombed as the Syrians are, who knows, who knows? My husband who has a BA from Cambridge University, a Ph.D from Johns Hopkins University, and post-docs from Stanford and Cornell entered on a Highly Skilled Workers Visa to a Professorship at the University of Birmingham (though we are now trying our hand at entrepreneurship!!)

Those striving to enter by sea and land, through mountains and rivers, within unventilated vans, on the tops of moving trains and beneath lorries and planes may not bring a fistful of advanced degrees with them, but they bring other things. Gumption, determination, physical strength, endurance, resilience, courage, optimism, hardiness, ambition, wild dreaming, a fierce love for their children. Thinking outside the box! How can these not benefit a society?

3 There is always enough

Be generous and willing to share.

As a road trip through Europe or North America shows, there is enough, there is room, there is room. Whereas people leave places like Gambia for lack of opportunity, the economy of Oxford where I live, and London even more so, is powered by immigrants—the cleaners, builders, house painters, gardeners, nurses, doctors, scientists and academics.

Jesus tells us secrets in the Sermon on the Mount: “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.” It is a little acknowledged secret about how the world works.

What is true for individuals is true for nations. Germany and Sweden have been particularly generous to migrants. Hungary, Estonia, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Poland Bulgaria and Romania are unwilling to accept non-Christian migrants. Guess which countries will have an increased GDP and increased prosperity ten years from now? Increased international goodwill? Blessing, if a spiritual term can be quantified, as it often can.

4 God works through migration. Judaeo-Christian history commences with Abraham being commanded to leave his country and his people and migrate to the promised land. The Jews migrate to Egypt during famine, return; are forcibly relocated to Babylon, mostly return; are forcibly dispersed during the Diaspora following the destruction of the Temple in 70AD, and go out into all the world, the converted Jews taking the Gospel with them.

Christians are commanded to be a migrant people, to go into all the world, and tell the good news to all people.

Wherever true Christianity spreads, it must cause diligence and frugality, which, in the natural course of things, must beget riches! (John Wesley). Now the Muslim nations– are coming to Europe, a land of milk and honey in every supermarket

It is the greatest missionary opportunity ever. The nations come to the Christians.

Should they hear the startlingly good news of Jesus , the secrets of the Universe he shares, hear of the love of God, the power of prayer, the power of grace to change us, amazing grace, on the airwaves, in their new neighbourhoods, in the schools and in refugee centres, and should some of them return with it to their native lands: Wow. It may change the world as dramatically as when the Gospel first went forth to Europe.

6 Mercy and generosity–particularly to the stranger and the alien– are Christian imperatives

If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? asks the Apostle John.

The Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban says: “Europe needs to protect its Christian identity against a Muslim invasion, it’s millions, then tens of millions, because the supply of immigrants is endless.”

In fact, the supply of immigrants is not endless. 60% of adults in the world’s poorest countries have no wish to leave.

What is endless is the capacity of the mind of man to create wealth.

Wealth is infinitely expandable. Some of America’s most valuable companies—Apple, Microsoft, Facebook, and Google are based on ideas incarnated by technology. Amazon now sells more ethereal books on Kindle than real books. Wealth is created from the mind of humankind (especially so, perhaps, when hooked to the mind of God). There is no ceiling. There is always enough.

We already grow enough food to feed everyone. The feeding of the five thousand? I believe it happened; it’s a miracle that has been repeated again and again.

There is enough wealth in this world to share with those fleeing bombs, those fleeing conscription, those fleeing starvation, and those fleeing boredom. Those who have come for safety, for food, for a Ph.D for themselves or their children.

There is enough goodness in the world for the Syrians and the Swiss, for the Afghanistanis and the Austrians, for the Indians and the English

Few brave oceans, mountains, barbed wire, tear gas, police dogs and stun grenades to be on welfare forever. The stranger and alien Judaeo-Christians are commanded to have compassion on will eventually be a dynamic blessing to the societies that offer sanctuary. So it has always been.

There are no borders in heaven. Living like that on earth will be out of everyone’s comfort zone. And in that zone, we change, we grow as we learn to really look, to see people with Jesus’s eyes, giving up prejudice, giving up pre-judging by skin colour, presumed intelligence, culture and education, or the lack of them. Being open-hearted. Obeying Jesus’ command not to judge.

By having mercy on the one in need, we live, as Jesus said in the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

7 When I lived in America, and attended a church which occasionally conflated patriotism with Christianity, we’d sing in church:

This land is your land; this land is my land,

From California, to the Yukon highway.

I imagine that’s what God sings over the world today

This land is your land,

But this land is NOT really your land,

This land is MY land.

From Syria to Sweden

From Eritrea to Germany.

Do not be afraid.

The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.

Be open-hearted and willing to share.

Tweetables

It is the greatest missionary opportunity ever. NEW from @anitamathias1 on the migrant crisis

The whole earth belongs to the lord. Be generous and willing to share NEW from @anitamathias1 on the migrant crisis

There are no borders in heaven. Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. NEW! @anitamathias1 on the migrant crisis

There is always enough. NEW from @anitamathias1 on the migrant crisis

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