Anita Mathias | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

A Day in Cambodian Villages with Tearfund: Thoughts on Poverty, Shalom and Self-Sufficiency

The spiritual value which runs though Scripture is not prosperity (though, in the Old Testament, those blessed by God are generally prosperous).

It is shalom. Strong’s Concordance translates it as “wholeness, health, peace, welfare, safety, soundness, tranquility, prosperity, perfectness, fullness, rest, harmony, the absence of agitation or discord.” What a lovely concept.

It is not right in a world of obscene and extravagant wealth for anyone to go hungry, to be deprived of access to the world’s mental, intellectual and spiritual and cultural riches through lack of education,

William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, said this in his last and most famous speech, “While Women weep, as they do now, I’ll fight; while children go hungry, as they do now I’ll fight; while men go to prison, in and out, in and out, as they do now, I’ll fight; while there is a poor lost girl upon the streets, while there remains one dark soul without the light of God, I’ll fight, I’ll fight to the very end!”

That remarkable passion is not my calling—or else, I would never get a word written.

On the other hand, if we know millions of our fellow humans lack food, or clothing or shelter OR an education which opens their soul to the resources of thought and spirit through the centuries as well as the resources to climb out of poverty—and do nothing about it, how can the love of God dwell in us?

In Jesus’ striking parable of the sheep and the goats, the righteous are welcomed into the heaven, on the basis of what they did, not what they did not do. They saw the King hungry in the disguise of the poor, and fed him; they saw him naked and clothed him. The unrighteous did no such thing, though they may have cried “Lord, Lord,” and through their charismatic personalities and gifts of influence may even have worked miracles in his name.

And so, though development is not everyone’s calling, all Christians should help the poor, as need crosses our paths, as our hearts respond to need, as the Spirit moves. (And I would suggest that if we do not sense the Spirit move, start with 10%, the Biblically recommended figure, and keep moving it around ministries, until you are giving to ministries you are happy with, and causes that bring joy to your heart.)

* * *

I visited a couple of Cambodian villages today which use Umoja (Swahili for togetherness) Tearfund’s development model.

Lunch with Tearfund staff, Cambodia.

Tearfund trains a facilitator, who recruits rural pastors to the program. They ask the community what they would like to see in their community. They dream. And then they dream about how to raise the money to accomplish that dream. More dreams. Part of the Umoja process is dreaming, a word dear to me (check out my blog title!).

Tearfund provides training in agricultural and micro-business techniques. The community establishes savings and loans programs, which enable them to buy sewing machines, to raise chickens and ducks and geese etc.

* * *

We visited an interesting compound today, behind locked corrugated steel gates! There was a Hope Centre donated by Joyce Meyer, which is used as a church. There was a pre-school run by Potters Field ministries, which provides the regulation blue tee shirts. Many Christian ministries coming together in that compound.

Tearfund kickstarted the Umoja process in that church—a sewing shop with fancy pre-ordered Kymer clothes for their new year, a chicken and duck raising project, and wormeries in cow manure to feed the chickens inexpensively, and fertilize crops. They had been taught “foreign” agricultural techniques such as growing beans on the fences surrounding the vegetable garden, saving space and producing food simultaneously.

He showed us their books, letters in Kymer, numbers in English, thumb prints over amounts donated, and as far as I could make out, several people put a pound into the projects weekly, and presumably reaping the rewards.

* * *

In the afternoon, we visited some results of the Umoja vision of self-sufficiency. Ror Kar Khpross, an elderly lady in Tasu village who was chased away by her family because she is HIV positive grows chilis and basil in a little plastic rice bags, and makes paste from the moringa tree, one of nature’s miracle trees, which she sells.

We visited a little school which children who go to the local “free” schools (where they learn very little) go to after hours to learn the alphabet, and do some fairly complex math. It’s on a raised platform on stilts, in the volunteer teacher’s house, two classes in a room about 3 by 3 meters, progressing concurrently disciplined but raucous. Whoa, they are going to learn focus!

* * *

Perhaps, man’s greatest need is spiritual, because from it all else comes. And then, perhaps, education, which gives us the tools to learn, grow, change and create prosperity. Even a little literacy will help people read labels on medicine bottles, store receipts, bank statements, and not be cheated.

According to the Pastor, implementing Umoja can be a challenge, because ministries like World Vision provide the chickens and the coop, and the seeds for crops. However, the villagers would sell it in the market for quick cash and be poor again. In fact, before Umoja, he said, the villagers would pray for “a foreigner to come and help us.”

Umoja requires them to set aside a small amount of money a week into the pooled savings and loan project, which is invested in community projects of their choice. They are encouraged to look at their resources—a moringa tree in the case of widowed Ror Kar Khporss; land in the case of the pastor’s family and ask what they could do with it. And land in abundance there is, lots of still unutilized land even in the compound which was part of the Umoja process.

Stuffed frogs at a roadside stall, Cambodia.

Because they are developing their human resources of imagination, assiduity, persistence, following up on goals, and developing multiple income streams, this should, in the long run, be more effective than relying on hand-outs.

Poverty is partly a mind-set. If you define yourself as poor, you feel defeated and crushed at the outset and won’t have the energy or vision to climb out of poverty. Apparently, the Umoja process trains people to see what they do have and gradually to optimize it, and begin the climb out of poverty, increasing their self-confidence and self-reliance in the process.

I have just captured a fraction of today’s impressions; I am still rather jet-lagged.

Please Would you consider supporting Tearfund’s work in Cambodia, essentially paying for the facilitator to be trained to help train the community in the Umoja process in opening their eyes to notice they resources they already have in place—time, strength, land– and how they can optimize these?

To support Tearfund’s work in Cambodia by donating £3 a month here (about $5 for Americans).

Alternatively, text HOPE TODAY to 70444 to subscribe to give £3 a month to See For Yourself, Tearfund. It will be added to your mobile phone bill. Tearfund receives 100% of the money. This subscription service will cost £3.00 per month until you send STOP to 70080.

Growth Happens Outside the Comfort Zone. (And hello from Pnomh-Penh, Cambodia

By Anita Mathias

One of my favourite Oxford walks is by the Thames from Iffley Lock to Folly Bridge.

As it gets warmer, the river is crowded with school and college rowers. And, on the banks, an obnoxious man with a bullhorn cycles beside the perspiring rowers, shouting tips on posture and alignment and synchronization.

Our family loves rowing and canoeing, slowly, dreamily, aimlessly. Watching those focused rowers, Zoe said, “I would never want to do THAT kind of rowing.”

No, neither would I. (Though Roy who rowed for his college, Corpus Christi, Cambridge, says, “Humph!”)

So the rowers have a choice. Listen to the man with the bullhorn, and get better.

Or turn a deaf ear to him, and get kicked out of the team, and perhaps lose your race. No more early mornings rowing on the river as the mists rise, and the birds sing, and the dreaming towers emerge from the lifting mist.

If they do not push themselves, their world shrinks.

* * *

My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,

As if life’s business were a summer mood;

As if all needful things would come unsought

To genial faith, still rich in genial good;

Wordsworth wrote. Yeah, me too. Me too.

And that’s how I like to walk, “in pleasant thought/ As if life’s business were a summer mood.” Slowly, dreamily.

I worked with a personal trainer last year on (don’t laugh!) my walking speed, because one of my favourite things to do with friends is walk with them, and many of my friends are younger than I, and I was having trouble keeping up!

And Joanna kept saying, “Push yourself, Anita. Increase your speed until you are perspiring. Increase your speed until you are slightly out of breath. Walk as if you are trying to catch the last train out. You grow new blood vessels and capillaries. You will strengthen your heart and lungs.”

So faced with my embarrassment when I walk with “normal” people, and get breathless, I have been pushing myself. I walk with Runkeeper on my iPhone, which tells me my pace, and push, push push, until I am sweaty and breathless. But then I come home, from about 3.5 miles of this, and feel wonderful.

Isn’t it great that God gave us such a means of feeling really, really wonderful, this endorphin high, lying coiled, dormant, right within our bodies?

* * *

I am writing this having just arrived in Phomh-Penh—definitely outside my comfort zone. I accepted a Tearfund Challenge to tell the story of their projects, and help raise support for them.

The 100 degree heat; jet lag; the unfamiliar culture; the challenges of live-blogging, the hassle of using new technology and getting my old techie stuff to work here, and the risk of getting ill—oops, this will definitely be outside my comfort zone.

* * *

Pascal says “One of the greatest causes of man’s unhappiness is his inability to sit quietly in a room.” Yes, I believe that if one cannot find happiness within oneself, and vertically, drawing comfort, nourishment and love for God, deriving happiness from other people can be elusive. They fill our emotional tanks, but once these are drained, we want more.

However, growth does not come from sitting quietly in a room. Growth comes from doing things at which one is likely to fail, and then failing, and humbling oneself to ask for help. Or better still, succeeding and then accepting a new challenge. Growth comes from learning.

Huge Buddha in Bangkok

The Buddha’s feet

For instance, we had an opportunity today to spend two hours sitting in Bangkok airport, or taking a taxi and exploring. We took a taxi and explored—the charms of a vibrant Buddhist culture, massive Buddhas, viharas and wats everywhere, street markets and aromatic street food. Augustine calls travel “reading from the book of the world,” and so indeed it is.

A colourful Buddhist shrine, Bangkok.

* * *

It’s not just growth that happens outside one’s comfort zone. What happens outside the Christians’ comfort zone is that we are pushed into the Holy Spirit, pushed into Christ, because our own resources—they fail us.

Pray for me—for health and strength and coherent (and God willing inspiring) blogging and that I and the other two bloggers, Danny Webster and Rich Sells succeed in our challenge of inspiring 60 new people to support Tearfund’s work in Cambodia with £3 a month.

Do follow our adventure here, please.

Holly Poulter, Tearfund’s media officer adds: People can text HOPE TODAY to 70444 to subscribe to give £3 a month to See For Yourself. It will be added to your mobile phone bill. Tearfund receives 100% of the money. This subscription service will cost £3.00 per month until you send STOP to 70080.

The Ten Habits of the Happy Christian

By Anita Mathias

Irene Mathias, aged 4

1 Seek Happiness

George Mueller considered happiness the normal emotional state of the Christian.

“I saw more clearly than ever, that the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day was to have my soul happy in the Lord. The first thing to be concerned about was not, how much I might serve the Lord, but how I might get my soul into a happy state, and how my inner man might be nourished.

Martin Luther too took happiness very seriously. Note the urgency with which he deals with unhappiness. “First, when I feel that I have become cool and joyless in prayer because of other tasks or thoughts (for the flesh and the devil always impede and obstruct prayer), I take my little psalter, hurry to my room, and, as time permits, I say quietly to myself and word-for-word the Ten Commandments, the Creed, and, if I have time, some words of Christ or of Paul, or some psalms, just as a child might do.

2 The Kingdom of God is within you.

Happiness mostly depends on one’s thoughts and attitude, on zapping negativity.

Chuck Swindoll memorably writes:

The longer I live, the more I realize the important of one’s attitude. Attitude, to me, is more important than the past, education, money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company…a church…a home.

The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past…we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you. We are in charge of our attitudes.

And we need to feed the white dog, not the black dog.

3 The Practice of Gratitude contributes greatly to happiness, as does the habit of praising the Lord, anyway.

For continued joy, we all need ways to process our past, seeing what is redemptive in the negative, and give thanks for both the episodes we have seen God redeem, and those we have not yet watched him redeem.

4 Cultivate Cheerfulness

While we all have a set point for happiness determined by genetics and our experiences in utero and in early childhood, anyone can cultivate the habit of cheerfulness. The cheerful heart has a continual feast (Prov 15:15).

Cheerfulness is a decision which becomes a habit, and then a temperament.

I have discovered that going through one’s day giving thanks for the ever-changing tapestry of the skies, and the day’s little goodnesses makes a perfectly ordinary day magical.

5 Temple Maintenance

We are spiritual beings having a physical experience. Exercising, a healthy diet (minus too much sugar, which is toxic and white carbs, which are unnecessary), enough sleep, and tidy, pretty surroundings enhances happiness. I am working on all of these!

6 Acceptance and Serenity

Holiness is “giving what God takes, and taking what he gives with a big smile,” Mother Teresa said. Yeah, happiness too!

The famous Serenity Prayer attributed to Reinhold Neibuhr captures this best

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

7 Prayer and Scripture as anchors for one’s life

For me, joy leaks within hours if I have not prayed. Friendship with Christ, a secret friend always with you, is probably the biggest bringer of contentment.

Besides, God promises us a mysterious, unspecified but tempting and tantalizing reward for spending time with him.

With practice, prayer soon becomes a sweet, silent melody flowing through one’s day, a secret stream beneath its surface.

8 Deal with the Joy-Blockers

Unforgiveness is probably the biggest one, consigning us to continued torment.

We need our own strategies for dealing with inevitable failure, guilt and shame—rapid, thorough repentance and seeking God’s forgiveness (and basking in his love) to help us escape continued patterns and vicious circles of sin.

9 Learn to Convert Worry to Prayer

Worry and anxiety is another joy-devourer. I have been trying to develop the habit of instantly praying about my worries—trying to instinctively convert them to prayer, as a sunflower naturally turns towards the sun and butterflies.

I am learning to rapidly chuck my anxieties and uncertainties into his arms. To let my worries become his worries, as in this lovely little Max Lucado story.

10 Relationships

Friendship causes “perhaps half of all the happiness in the world,” says C. S. Lewis in his brilliant essay, The Inner Ring. Lewis was a bachelor for most of his life, or he would have certainly added a happy marriage and happy parenthood to life’s joys.

What would you add?

Which Prophet Are You? On Being Content with Who You Are, and Renouncing Comparisons

By Anita Mathias

Michaelangelo’s rendering of Jeremiah

I was fretting about my blog yesterday, because I haven’t been writing much.

And I decided there and then, one of those “defining decisions” in Mark Batterson’s phase, that shape a life, that I would never fret about my blog again. That I would instead entrust it to God and work with the power of the Holy Spirit.

Also—and I exhaled a big sigh of relief at this decision—that I would never allow myself to fret, or be jealous, or made anxious by anyone else’s success.

Ah, let me tell you, this resolution is a BIG help when you wade through your Facebook newsfeed of bloggers and writers reading, writing, publishing, connecting, shining, and you, you are tired, and trying to learn to run, and get organised, and wake early and work long hours–keystone habits you really should have got down in your twenties, keystone habits you try to impress on your girls.

* * *

However, if a spiritual writer wants to bear fruit that will last, as I want to, what she really needs to be able to do is tune in to God’s voice, to hear what the Spirit is saying to the church and to her. And in this lonely, solitary pursuit, there is no competition.

How foolish for Isaiah to try to be small and jewelly like Habakkuk, or Habakkuk to want to be as sweeping and devastating as Jeremiah. Or for Micah, the down to earth, to want to be wildly, mysteriously prophetic as Ezekiel was–mystic creatures, and wheels within wheels! And Joel, with his promised comforts of restoration and the Holy Spirit, is writing just what he is supposed to write, though he might not diet like Daniel, nor brave the jaws of lions. Each of them, while being sheerly themselves, inspire us, in different ways.

This then is the task before writers—what we once did instinctively as children. What we once could not help doing. To be ourselves.

* * *

And guess what? Habbukuk who, in three chapters, tells us

Though the fig tree does not bud

and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
¹⁸yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

¹⁹The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.

has spoken to people’s hearts just as much as Jeremiah who wrote 52 chapters, but also comforts us in a beautiful image of Christian productivity—sending out your roots to secret streams.

“Cursed is the one who trusts in man,

who draws strength from mere flesh

and whose heart turns away from the Lord.

That person will be like a bush in the wastelands;

they will not see prosperity when it comes.

They will dwell in the parched places of the desert,

in a salt land where no one lives.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,

whose confidence is in him.

They will be like a tree planted by the water

that sends out its roots by the stream.

It does not fear when heat comes;

its leaves are always green.

It has no worries in a year of drought

and never fails to bear fruit.”

Joel who, in three chapters, assures us that the Lord can restore the years the locusts have eaten because, heck, he created everything and so he can– and promises us more, that the Lord will pour out his spirit on all flesh, both men and women speaks as powerfully to us as Ezekiel who writes 48 chapters, and offers a vision of enduring creativity for those who live in the river of God’s blessing.

* * *

Through the process of living, we discover whether we are called to be beautiful miniaturists like Habakkuk, Joel or Micah, or mighty thundering prophetic voices like Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel–or whether, indeed, our legacy might purely be what we did, not what we said, like the prophets Elijah and Elisha.

To be happy and holy, and God’s writer, however, we must be the writer we are, within the limits of our strength, energy, education, intelligence and personality, and rejoice and be glad in the calling he has chosen for us from all eternity, because he loves us!

A Revelation of Divine Love Changes the Deep Structure of our Being

By Anita Mathias

The longest distance in the world is the eighteen inches from the head to the heart.

Until our personal revelation of the love of God, we limp as Christians, impelled by duty, not desire, not love.

But we really, really change in the deep structure of our being, when we realize what Karl Barth described as the most important insight in the millions of theological words he published—God loves me.

When, as Paul prayed for the Ephesians, we have “the power, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge,” (Eph 3:17-19) it’s transformational. Paul says, mysteriously, that once we know this, we will be “filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”

I find myself able more able to endure disappointment, sadness, frustration, boredom, uncertainty, the possibility of failure, and the reality of failure (!) when I lean into the certain knowledge of the love of God for me.

* * *

Both I and my younger sister (Ph.D. in Immunology from Notre Dame University, post-doc and Cancer research at Sloan Kettering, now a partner in a Wall Street investment firm specialising in bio-tech) were raised with unrealistically high expectations. Being amazing was a minimum requirement.

After colliding with the love of God, I frequently remind myself, “Anita, you don’t have to be amazing.” A burden drops off my shoulders. I can just be myself.

* * *

The revelation of the love of God comes in the oddest moments. I sometimes look around a messy room, and realise I am failing in an ideal I set for myself, orderliness, and then instead of feeling self-condemned, I relax into the realisation that God loves me.

And from that, energy comes to clean the darn thing up.

* * *

I couldn’t blog well if I didn’t know in my bones that God loves me. For a good blog is an honest blog, and you cannot be honest if you fear criticism.

For in blogging, you reveal yourself—and, inevitably, reveal more than you realize. You may even reveal more than you consciously know about yourself. And what you reveal can be read wrong for people don’t read with their eyes alone: they read with their baggage.

And people can read you wrong, can decide they hate or envy you, can use things you’ve written to hurt you, or manipulate you, or wrongly label you. Oh, what an unsafe enterprise honest spiritual blogging is, and who would ever embark upon it if they did not know in their bones that God loved them?

* * *

After colliding with the love of God, I felt worries waft away like autumn leaves in the wind.

I feel relatively at peace about my relative lack of achievement, and hopeful for the future. I barely worry about sickness, money or retirement planning. I quickly convert any worries about my children to prayer. I try to convert my worries about my blog and nascent career to a strategy session in prayer.

* * *

My seminal experience of the knowledge of the love of God rooting itself in my heart and spirit happened in May 2010 during a International Leader’s School of Ministry led by John Arnott during which I learned soaking prayer. Though at a healing service the previous month, when I had requested healing from adrenal fatigue, the vicar prayed that I receive a revelation of divine love. And just as I had dreamed that night, I felt electricity, honey, surge through my brain, and in retrospect, I see I am different.

* * *

While encountering the love of God has been transformational for me, it’s harder to pinpoint how to experience it.

My best shot:

1) Pray to.

“Pray that you may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, ¹⁹and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” (Eph 3: 17-19)

And perhaps ask people to pray for you to receive this revelation of the love of God.

2 Hang out with God, just resting with him. Let prayer move beyond lists and agendas to just hanging out with God, soaking in his presence.

Here’s a quote from Brennan Manning, whose experience, interestingly, was like mine.

“My personal experience of the relentless tenderness of God came not from exegetes, theologians and spiritual writers, but from sitting still in the presence of the living Word and beseeching him to help me understand with my head and heart his written Word. Sheer scholarship alone cannot reveal to us the Gospel of grace.” (The Ragamuffin Gospel)

Have you had a revelation of the love of God? What is the best way to experience the love of God, not intellectually, but emotionally, in the depths of your being?

Image Credit

In Which I Resolve Not to Be Afraid

By Anita Mathias

So the disciples row for “three or three and a half miles.” (I love these charming details, John striving to remember accurately–and how they make it easier for us to believe in the truth of these memoirs of Jesus.)

It’s dark; the wind is raging; the waters are rough.

And a figure looms out of the darkness, walking on the waters, approaching the boat.

And they cannot see his face; and they do not know his name

And understandably, they are terrified.

* * *

Who is he who comes walking on the waters, in the dark, when the winds rage, and the sea is rough?

The dark figure terrifies, until he speaks his name, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

And that too is the aspect He sometimes wears. He appears when it is dark, and the winds are strong, and the waters rough. He walks towards us, a dark figure, and we cannot see his face, and we do not know his name, and we are terrified.

But it is Him, nonetheless, and face to face with the stranger in the darkness, we are to remember God’s most consistent command: Do not be afraid.

And so I will not be afraid.

I shall taste the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

* * *

The Israelites response to the manna which sustained them was “What is it?” In Hebrew, Manna.

“Tell me your name,” Jacob uncertainly asks the dark figure who disabled him. “Who is it?” the disciples wondered, terrified, as a figure looms out the storm and darkness, approaching them. Or, “Manna.”

The answer was always, is always, the same. For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, in success or in failure, in rich friendship or loneliness.

It is the Lord.

* * *

Everything we have comes from God. He comes to us in spring and summer–and in winter too. In abundance—and in scarcity too. When life is easy—and when it’s excruciatingly hard.

“Yes,” I say to the dark figure walking towards me amidst the roaring winds and stormy sea. “I know it is you. I have trusted you in the past and I trust you now. I know you.”

“And so, however the dice falls, I know nothing shall separate me from your love, and all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.”

In which Christ says, “I will let nothing be wasted.”

By Anita Mathias

I will “let nothing be wasted” (John 6:12).

“Nothing, Lord?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

Not the weary years,

Not the silent tears,

Not the loneliness

Which caused that deep, echoing silence

in which we could hear you?

None of our failures

Which silenced the insistent voices

Of those who might otherwise have found a use for us?

We were nobody and nothing;

And in the vast silence which surrounded us,

We heard your signature sound:

A whisper.

* * *

And the bad days we planted which became bad weeks,

Bad years, wasted to bickering, quarrelling, and anger?

Even them?

And the times I could have been happy,

But I could not forgive.

And the times I tuned out everyone to write,

Forgetting “there is nothing but love.”

And the times when anger and sadness and self-pity

So exhausted me that I slept, oh ten hours, half the morning.

What good can come from them?

“I will let nothing be wasted.”

* * *

The wise learn wisdom from your Word,

The stupid learn it from experience.

I was stupid, Lord.

“I will let nothing be wasted.”

* * *

And when I overworked and burned out,

And, being too exhausted to read, still tried to read,

Those wasted hours and years?

Nothing was wasted.

And I got terrified and perfectionistic,

And revised pieces of work a hundred times,

And still have not finished my big book.

NOTHING IS WASTED.

* * *

The friendships, Lord.

Oh, how many people I could have loved.

I see their faces on Facebook now, and see how lovely they were.

But I allowed little things to annoy me,

And read and wrote and worried

That I wasn’t reading and writing more

Forgetting there is only love.

The marriage years I wasted to anger,

And fear that I would never write,

Or self-pity at my lack of help.

Will I still be as fruitful

as if I had spent them in praise and thankfulness,

hidden in the holy places of the Most High?

I and my sweet Roy.

We could have been so happy.

Everything was, is, given us.

But how we have fought!

Nothing is wasted.

And those sweet, adorable little girls

And me adoring them, and wanting to write too,

And writing often won.

And why did I not get it, Lord,

That love is all that matters?

I was there.

With them and with you.

I was there.

Nothing was wasted.

From these shards of shattered hearts

I make stained glass

Through which

Light shines.

* * *

I am worried, Lord.

Will I be as good as a writer as I could have been

If I had been disciplined,

Organised, a good housekeeper

Physically fit, an early riser

Not wasted time on anger

Used fragments of time to read?

I see you smile. I know it sounds silly.

I guess I am asking

“Will I be as good a writer as I might have been

If I were perfect?”

“Anita, to answer your question,

you will be a different writer

than if you had never wasted time

than if you had learned ‘the power of positive thinking”

than if you had learn to forgive

and run a minimalistic tidy house

and, well, had run.

But you will be the writer I intended you

to be from before the creation of the world.

All you lament was in my plan from the beginning of time

Your failures will help you reach a different group

Those of the human race

Who have failed as you have,

And they number more than you imagine.

“Arise, shine, for your light has come,
See the glory of the Lord all around you.”

* * *

“Mess, Lord!
I sweep it up,

Shards, tesserae, beach glass,

Broken vases, splintered shells, beads.

Take and receive, oh Lord:

The mess I have made of the jewels

You have lavished upon me, again and again.”

* * *

Nothing is wasted, He says.

I take what you give me:

broken jewellery, broken crystal, broken children’s crafts,

kid’s toys–never assembled, parts missing,

broken pottery, broken dreams, broken body,

And my hands work instantly, busily.

They mould, shape, join, paste,

And from what you thought was a Psyche heap

of broken baubles they create

Such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make

Of hammered gold and gold enamelling

To keep a drowsy Emperor awake,

Or set upon a golden bough to sing

To lords and ladies of Byzantium.

On Training to be a Vicar in the Church of England (A Guest Post by Jules Middleton)

By Anita Mathias

I am excited to host this guest post by my friend, Jules Middleton, an ordinand in the Church of England.

Southwark Cathedral

Anita has asked me to write about my experiences at Vicar School. I am an Ordinand (ie: hoping to end up as a Vicar in the CofE), studying a 3 year part-time Foundation Degree in Theology for Ministry at SEITE (South East Institute for Theological Education). The college covers four dioceses, including both full and part time students, those doing lay courses (ie: they won’t get ordained at the end); and those hoping for paid jobs like me (stipendiary ministry) or those who will be self supporting (NSM or SSM). We all come from a wide range of churchmanship and traditions and are a very mixed bunch.

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So, Vicar School – sounds so jolly nice doesn’t it? Almost conjures up images of greying men in tweed and middle-aged women in twin sets in wood panelled rooms, bibles open on our desks listening intently whilst we are taught good exegesis. Of course, the reality is rather different. On my course, we are very mixed: in age, churchmanship and dress – not sure I’ve seen a single twin set actually!

And it’s nice that we are all so different because we can learn so much from each other, but because so many of us are doing different things it can be harder to form strong relationships. For example there are people I only ever see when we’re away on study weekends which is about twice a term. It does get a bit confusing – I am just over half way through my first year and I think I’m just about getting the hang of it all!

So how did I end up here? Well, just getting into Vicar School is a slog in itself. Getting selected for me meant going through the ‘discernment process’ in the Church of England. My husband always jokes that this sounds like a bunch of bearded polo-necked men in a room thinking a lot, and well, there certainly was a lot of thinking involved. It’s a pretty thorough process that I usually describe as like going through intensive therapy. Very worthwhile but hard work and a bit of an emotional roller coaster too. So when I was finally selected and ready to go to college, it felt like the end of a rather long journey when the reality is, it’s actually just the beginning of another hard slog.

So, the course began back in September last year, with a weekend away with the other first years. Literally thrown in at the deep end: a weekend away with a bunch of strangers in surroundings that would be at home in a Harry Potter movie (ever been to Aylesford Priory?) Trouble with the weekends is that they start on a Friday evening and if you’re anything like me, by Friday evening all I am capable of is vegging on the sofa with a glass of red and some trashy telly.

And yet, here I was, all ready for some academic hard stuff. I’ve got to admit I wrote in my journal on that first evening ‘what the **** I doing here?!’ Since then it’s been pretty full on. We’ve had several weekends away, had some fantastic teaching, done our Mission Placement and begun to form friendships too.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at God working through the course to teach me, mould me and guide me, but I am. From the first term’s teaching on church history, which I thought would be massively dull but actually really loved; to getting fed up with more traditional worship styles (I’m a charismatic) and then finding myself weeping uncontrollably during a Eucharist. From reluctantly starting the discipline of the Daily Office and then finding that God speaks to me through it every day; to realising that at heart I am an Anglican. It’s been quite staggering really (especially the Anglican bit…).

I’m also loving how what I am studying is really feeding into my work – I work for my church and it’s amazing how things that seem pretty irrelevant just slot into what I am working on. For instance, I’m currently preparing a report for church on mission and growth, most of which will also feature in an essay I’m doing (rather convenient that one…)

Of course there are still moments when I wonder what on earth God has got me into. Weeks when I have work and college deadlines looming, or when my kids are on school hols and I still have to find time to study, or, as is coming up shortly, planning for the dreaded whole week away at Easter. There have been days when I have wished that I were the kind of person who would be content to be a stay at home mum, when it all seems just too much.

And yet these are the moments when I am reliant on God more than ever. To be honest, without him I think I’d have walked away after the first evening.

So, as I look ahead there is a certain level of mild panic at what the future holds, at where God might send us, but at the same time there is excitement too. I have learned so much already and yet I still have so much to learn. I am loving learning, loving getting back into academic writing, loving the reading (well most of it, not so sure on Kantian ethics….) and the research.

This is a path that whilst being terrifying and unsettling, also feels completely right and where I am meant to be.

Over to you: Have you considered ordination, or been through the selection process or “Vicar School”? Share your story?