Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

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In which Jesus Commands us Not to Judge

By Anita Mathias

 

Do not judge because I am the Judge, not you.

Do not judge because your quick judgement cuts you off from my flow of goodness and mercy.

Do not judge because I am the positive, creative one; your negativity cuts you from me.

 

Do not judge because you are not that smart; you see only in part.

Do not judge because your own experiences colour your sight.

Do not judge because you see men’s public failures, but not their secret victories, the hidden good they did, or the hidden evil they stopped short of.

Do not judge because you know nothing of people’s shaping, crippling childhoods.

 

Avoid those snap, imperfect judgements.

They shut you off from opportunities to learn, to see and to be kind.

Remain open. Ask me to let you see people as I see them–and as they really are.

 

Do not judge because your judgement is confining. People will find it hard to transcend it.

Do not judge because Satan is the accuser of the brethren, and you do not want to resemble him.

 

Do not judge. Keep your mind open in mercy; don’t snap it shut in judgement.

 

Do not judge, because this is an inexorable law I have set in motion: In the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

As you wish for mercy, offer it. As you wish to be assessed kindly, do not judge.

* * *

 But Jesus, assessing people is a life-skill. I would be a sheep among wolves if I did not know how to read people.

When you must assess people—look at the fruit of their lives. Their children are a testimonial; how they treat those less important than themselves; the peacefulness of their demeanour; how they respond to reverses, and to their enemies; the things they value; the tensile strength of their relationships.

* * *

 But use your tendency to swift, harsh judgment as a means of growth. See if you do the same thing. When the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eyes bothers you, see if you have a plank in your own eye.

Ask my help to remove it.

So will you use your instinctive tendency to judgement to grow, and to transcend your own weaknesses (which, ironically, will, often be in the very area in which you so swiftly judge).

 

Invite me into your eyes so that you will be able to see people as I see them. Invite me into your mind, as that you will be able to read people as I do.

Filed Under: In which I celebrate friendship and relationships, Matthew Tagged With: blog through the bible, Do not judge, Matthew, sermon on the mount

Fail Better: Only Do Not Go Backwards

By Anita Mathias

Image Credit

The aged Abraham sends his servant back to Ur to get a wife for Isaac with these instructions, “Make sure that you do not take my son back there,” Abraham said. “Only do not take my son back there.” (Gen. 24:8).

Straight ahead lay the land of promise, the land to which he had specifically been called. Ur was the land he had been called out of.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. 

― Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho.

Only do not go backwards.

* * *

Failing Better with the Bible

I am reading this Genesis passage because it is my third (and final and God willing successful) attempt at blogging through the Bible. My first, in 2011, failed because I make the mistake of attempting to comment on every passage, not just on what most spoke to me in the readings of the day.

My second attempt, this January, failed because I again tried to keep up with the readings of the day, an impossible, quixotic endeavour. Blogging through the Bible on a standard reading plan of 4 passages a day involves writing 1460 posts a year. Who could write that many? And who could read them?!!

So I am trying again, taking my time, listening to what scripture is saying to me, writing that down, 2-3 posts a week at best. It will be a marathon, but reading scripture is not a sprint. It is a way of spiritual transformation.

* * *

Failing Better with Diet and Weight Loss

Sometimes success consists of just hanging in there, through plateaus. Jon Acuff writes somewhere that the diet that helped him lose 30 pounds was the diet he stuck to. There’s something to that.

But there is also something in learning from your past failures: studying what worked, and what did not work, and devising a plan likely to set you up for success.

Staying in the ring, and failing better and better until you succeed!

 

I have learned something from each dieting failure, for instance.

1 Weight Watchers. Ugh. Emphasis on calorie restriction kept me focused on food. Also calorie restriction may not work long term: it lowers your metabolism so that when you resume normal eating, you gain it all back!

2 Vegetarianism. Because I love carbs, I didn’t lose as much as I should have on this, and, nutritionally, substituting carbs for meat and dairy and eggs probably had dubious nutritional value.

3 Metabolic Typing Diet. Turned out that I, unusually for Asians, am a “protein type.” (A throwback to my paternal grandmother’s Portuguese grandmother, and the Portuguese on my mother’s side too?) Which means I do not metabolize carbs as easily as protein, more easily gaining weight with carbs than with meat or fish.

4 Atkins/South Beach. Being a protein type, I lose weight on these, but find it hard to get through the first two weeks!!

5 The Weigh Down Diet. The Presbyterian church I attended for a few years in Williamsburg had a Sunday School class on this eccentric diet! It was eat anything you want, as much as you want, when you are hungry, and stop when you are full.

By allowing chocolate, cookies and cheesecake, the diet aims at removing them as objects of lust. Oddly, I lost 10 pounds on this. But, nutritionally, it was nuts!

* * *

However, instead of viewing these discarded diets as failures, I have decided to view them as learning experiences. I have been very slowly losing weight (13 pounds over the last 9 months) through life-style change for life,  designing a diet which includes things I’ve learned from each of my diets

1. I no longer set out to restrict calories as that lowers my metabolism, but, in effect, do so by trying to have a green smoothie and a salad at most meals.

Because of the impressive nutritional and immunological  benefits of largely vegan and vegetarian meals, I am trying  to eat a diet that’s largely fruit and vegetables, with some protein, according to my body’s felt needs.

2. I limit sugar, chocolate and nutritionally empty white flour or white rice.

3. I try to do a 3.5 mile walk every second day, which probably works wonders for my metabolism.

4. From the Weigh-Down Diet, I’ve learned that it’s okay to have   occasional favourite meals, Indian and Chinese takeaway etc., and the occasional sweet treat. Knowing these are permitted on occasion, I do not get discouraged and resume undisciplined eating after one of these treats.

5 Another Weigh-Down Principle: Never use food as a recreational activity or for emotional needs. The risks to health are not worth it.

So I am trying to find appropriate interventions when sad, angry, bored, stressed, which do not involve calories. I am also trying to break a lifelong habit of grazing through the day, and am trying to train myself not to eat between meals unless I am truly hungry. Knowing I am not going to eat until the next meal gives me the same sense of peace and freedom as when I lock myself out of facebook, twitter, email, and newspapers!

Weight loss has been slow with many plateaus, because I am overcoming the engrained bad eating habits of a lifetime, reacquainting myself with what physical hunger feels like, learning not to eat absent-mindedly.  But I am determined, whatever I do, not to go backwards.

* * *

Failing Better with Early Rising

I have, for many years, had a romantic desire to wake at 5 o’clock, and enjoy sunrise and sunset in the same day.

However, I have my most concentrated periods of thinking , writing and reading in the evenings.  So cutting out a beloved productive time by going to sleep at 9 to wake at 5 felt a bit stupid to me, and my attempts to wake at 5 were short-lived.

My latest wake-early attempt began in late May, and I am now waking at 6.40 a.m., pushing it back 15 minutes every 4 days then maintaining it a bit. Should get there.

I have learned from my failures. Telling myself I have to get to bed early stresses my evening, and deprives me of productive time. So I am using bi-phasic sleeping which works very well for me: less than 8 hours at night, but a longish nap in the afternoon between two periods of work. Iris Murdoch in The Good Apprentice calls this getting two days for the price of one!

* * *

In any enterprise, running an orderly house, learning to write, becoming formidably well-read: keep proceeding, even by millimetres in the direction of your dreams, and you will achieve a success you did not dream of in lesser hours.

If you can’t proceed, rest at a plateau; just do not go backwards.

And then try again, though not using the same strategy which just failed (one definition of insanity). Instead, keep what worked, examine what failed, see how to replace it with something better, and try again, failing better until you succeed.

How about you? Are there areas in which you’ve learned from failure, and are now failing better? Or even succeeding?

 

Filed Under: Genesis Tagged With: blog through the bible, diet, failing better, Genesis, learning from failure, waking early, weight loss

The Prophet Speaks Words Before They are True: Peace! (A Guest Post by Heather Caliri)

By Anita Mathias

I was so pleased when Heather Caliri, author of Dancing Back to Jesus, offered me this beautiful guest post. Thanks so much, Heather!

simeon_1024Bedtime went awry for no very good reason. I was done after a long day. Or: I decided it was a long day, and absolved myself from using kind words and polite questions. As my kids pulled on pajamas and brush teeth, I found myself yelling at someone taking too long to brush their teeth.

Both children asleep and still, I went into my bedroom to quiet my simmering impatience. Settling onto my bed with a pillow at my back, I pulled over the Book of Common Prayer and opened to the devotions for the close of day.

I read the prayers every night. I knew what was coming, and my chest clenched. I hate saying words I can’t live up to. That night, the disconnect was a heavy black underline.

I read the words out loud:

Lord, you now have set your servant free
to go in peace as you have promised.
for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
whom you have prepared for all the world to see.

It’s the Song of Simeon, taken from Luke 2. One of the less-familiar Nativity stories, it takes place when the infant Jesus is brought to the temple. Simeon, a prophet that God promised would see the Messiah before he died, comes across the family and praises God.

But as I said them, I thought: Where is my peace? Where is my freedom? Have I seen the Savior today, or closed my eyes to Him? On nights like this Jesus seems hazy and far away, even though his commands are plain: Go and do likewise. Do unto others. Take up your cross.

Simeon’s affirmation needled me. The words tasted of failure.

I know I’m unworthy. But there’s an unworthiness that reaches up to Jesus to be pulled out of the water, and unworthiness that sinks to the bottom of the lake.

The song made me sink.

It’s a pattern I see over and over in my faith, in my pursuit of spiritual disciplines, in my reaching out to God. Sometimes my brokenness brings me to him. Sometimes it does the opposite.

Why does knowledge of my sickness send me running from the one who could heal me?

I read Simeon’s words again because I sensed I needed to be obedient. I needed to say them and ache for healing.

I have seen the Savior, I said. I have seen the Savior.

Here’s what my heart echoed back as I spoke Simeon’s song aloud:

The prophet speaks words before they are true. She is incarnating the possibility. But she lets God do the work of bringing into being.

It is hard for me to believe this no matter how much I know it: God is doing the work for me.

God is providing the peace when I am past the point of feigning it. God is opening the jail doors when I am despairing my captivity. The Savior is, as St. Patrick said, under me, over me, through me, around me, and beside me even when I am blind to His presence.

And what of this peace that Simeon celebrates? It is not the kind we’d see in a soft-focus catalog. I’ve been reading Luke 2 more closely, and seeing this:

Simeon is waiting to die. T.S. Eliot writes that his life is like a feather on the back of a hand, waiting for a breeze to blow it away.

The blessing he gives Mary and Joseph is an unsettling one: their son will cause upheaval. People will speak against him.

And for them: souls pierced by swords.

I imagine them tasting that oddly bittersweet blessing with babe in arms and wondering, again, what they have gotten themselves into.

Here is the truth: my children often pierce my soul. So does my behavior towards them. Reaching out to the Savior who is hazy and clear pierces me, God pierces me, over and over.

It is because I am pierced that I am looking for Him in the first place.

The peace I am given is just right for this complicated world, just right for a mixed-up, broken heart. A heart that waits for God to give the peace, provide the freedom, and make the words come true.

I have seen the Savior, I declare. I am free to go in peace as you have promised.

heather_picHeather Caliri is a writer and mom from San Diego. Two years ago, she started saying little yeses to faith, art, and life. The results shocked her. Get her free e-book, Dancing Back to Jesus: Post-perfectionist faith in five easy verbs, on her blog, A Little Yes.

Filed Under: In which I proudly introduce my guest posters, The peace that transcends understanding Tagged With: peace, Simeon

Playdates with God: Because All the World is a Wonderland: A Guest Post by Laura Boggess

By Anita Mathias

Laura Boggess’s writing and spirituality is as outrageously beautiful as she is. I’ve loved reading about her magical playdates with God on her blog –with some envy, both for the joy and freshness of her spirituality, and for the loveliness of the idea.

I am so excited that Laura is on my blog today, telling us more about how she began and continues with her spiritual practice of playdates with God. Welcome Laura!

rain_and_books_4_blogLast night after dinner the electricity went off. A white sky illuminated the night outside, silhouetting our usual, and I stared at my laptop in the dark…no internet connection… the screen an island of light in the room. Our two boys clamored—wound up by darkness, and excitement pulsed as their daddy lit candles and checked the weather on his iPhone.

We sat in the hush and listened to the wind blow the deck furniture around. It was late—after ten—so I tucked protesting boys in with a candle gently flickering—thinking of Little House on the Prairie and savoring the play of the warm glow on their still young faces.

I returned to the couch in the dark.

We sat in silence, my man and I; listened to driving rain turn to gentle patter, watched the play of lightning on hills in the distance. For once, no hum of air conditioner, no mindless buzz of refrigerator, dishwasher still in silence. All of our daily companions closed their eyes in this gauzy darkness.

There was only the soft ticking of the mantle clock keeping time with the faint strumming of droplets colliding with window glass, only to slide down and lose form in a streaky stream.

We giggled a little at our loss, wondered how did they do it? with no electricity…only talk to spend.  We marveled at work-filled days and talk-filled evenings and fell in to silence.

I closed my eyes in the dark and felt God sitting beside me.

Silence feels good to me. I find it by sitting still. By looking deeper into what is already here.

Always a solitary child, that’s me. I can fall into His arms in the quiet and never desire to leave. All my life this is where I have rested. Safe from jabbing words of others; hidden from the wounding talk.

I know it’s not that way for everyone. And lately, besieged by life and fraught with hope, I’ve been wondering, Is there another way? Because sometimes life doesn’t bend for this slowing down. Sometimes it takes a power outage for me to be still and listen.

God is always the same, yes, this I know. But I have also come to learn that He loves to mix things up. He understands the human tendency to grow stale when patterns are established. He loves surprises. He likes to keep our love fresh and new. This year has been a crazy mixed up year for finding God for me. My years of early morning quiet time suddenly ceased to feel intimate. For the first time in years I found myself falling asleep with my cheek pressed to the dining room floor at 5 a.m. Saturated.

It was time for something new.

I began to step out of my comfort zone. To explore new ways of praying. Once a week I try to do something new with God. I call these my Playdates with God. Funny how, trying this once a week has opened my eyes to finding the new in the old. Like my daily runs. I’ve been running since I was thirteen, but lately…I find God when I run. I feel Him in my legs, in my breath, in the acceleration of my beating heart. He meets me in the sky and the trees and the way the light changes colors on the horizon.

This morning when I ran, the storm was still fresh on the sidewalk. Fallen branches and stray leaves littered the street. The creek was rushing its banks and the smell of muddy water rose dense into the air around me. A handful of black crows perched on the utility wires above me, caw, caw, caw…

As my feet pounded the pavement, I remembered a poem a dear friend sent me. In it, she tells me that I am birdsong, and those words have lifted me on the darkest of days. My heart soars as I imagine music in my stride. And as I go on, I am lifted into its melody, and a new poem takes wing:

I fly away
singing—
flutter my
wings
through misty
windows
in the sky;
dip fingertips
in morning dew-
cups, silky
petals collect
evening honey,
and offer this
sweet frieze to
me in the golden
shimmer of
dawn. I am
free. I am…
birdsong.


I grow when I look for the Holy in the not usual way. God loves for me to seek after Him in wild and beautiful ways. Writing poetry doesn’t seem so crazy a way to pray. Nor does running.

He’s there. He’s in it all.

Where do you find God in your day-to-day life?

Leafwood headshot 023_smlr_autocorr

 

Laura Boggess is crazy in love with Jesus. And after many years of the try-hard life she is finally learning to accept that He loves her too. A recovering list-maker worn out from trying to earn grace, Laura is now stepping into Christ’s invitation to come to Him like a little child—with open hands, surrendered to grace.

Laura Boggess has an M.A. in clinical psychology and works in a medical rehabilitation hospital—helping patients and their families cope with traumatic diagnoses such as brain injury, spinal cord injury, and stroke. She believes in the healing power of story and often uses storytelling in therapy. She is the author of two books in the Wings of Klaio series, a Christian fiction series for teens. Watch for her new book Playdates with God: Because All the World is a Wonderland, to be released in the spring of 2014.

Laura is active in the women’s ministries at her church and is a regular speaker at churches throughout her region. She is a contributing editor at The High Calling (thehighcalling.org) and blogs at The Wellspring (http://lauraboggess.com). Laura lives in a little valley in West Virginia with her husband, Jeff, and their two sons. She is passionate about sharing Jesus and stories and loves a happy ending.

Filed Under: In which I play in the fields of prayer, In which I proudly introduce my guest posters Tagged With: Intimacy with God, Laura Boggess, Playdates with God, Prayer, running, spirituality

Our Summer Holiday in Switzerland, 2003 and 2013

By Anita Mathias

Switzerland 2013

Switzerland 2013

It’s our second holiday in Switzerland. We last came here 10 years ago, in 2013, when Zoe was 8 and Irene just 4.

It’s amazing coming back to our favourite places like the Lauterbrunnen Valley and the Trummelbach Falls ten years later, doing some of the same things, and reflecting on how much has changed.

We had rented a campervan that time. Now we’ve driven in our own campervan (RV). We left our dog in a kennel that time; now we’ve brought our dog, lovely Jake instead of lovely Trooper, whom we gave away when we left the US.

I was not a blogger then, and did not own a business. It was pre-Facebook and pre-Twitter, and we did not miss being disconnected from the world. I had a few essays out, and an (abortive) book proposal and checked on them at internet cafes, and emailed a few friends.

Now, I have a WiFi hotspot which works anywhere in the world, pretty much, so am as connected as at home–and like it that way, though obviously, I am not spending much time reading blogs, FB statuses, or tweets.

We’ve brought technology with us, laptops, iPads, iPhones, iPods, each to his or her own, because the internet, the world wide flow of knowledge is an extension of ourselves, has become part of the way we think (continually researching areas of curiosity) and the way we do life. We are unapologetic about it!!

We’ve changed; the world has changed; human consciousness has changed. Facebook, Twitter, blogs—all these barely existed ten years ago. They are now part of how I do life.  Just like recording in a journal gets one to slow down, and take it all in, sharing your life in a blog or Facebook enforces a beneficial slowing down, paying attention, and reaching out and connecting which is a universal human impulse. Knowing I am going to write about it, photographing things as I go, enforces a heightened attention and I think that is a good thing.

Ten years ago, we lived in America and were American citizens. Now we live in England, and are British citizens too. Ten years, ago, we blinked at the stressfully high Swiss prices. Now, having living in England for 9 years, we’ve become inured to high prices.

Ten years, ago we had wild lively children, heard long before they were seen. Now we have savvy teenagers. Ten years ago, they would volunteer to cook us a meal at the campground kitchen and it was an grand adventure. Now, they’d rather read.

Ten years ago, we were intimidated by Swiss glares when the children were heard as well as seen, and by general Swiss dourness. Now, bah, the Swiss are just people, and if they frown and glare, I shrug!  (Besides, they definitely seem to have grown nicer, or perhaps I have!)

Internally, I am happier, deeper, more content, more rooted in God. I have learned the secret of the bluebird of happiness. She lives within, that wild thing, and one must burrow within to find her.

A few then-and-now photos:

17-DSCN8428
Jake the Collie, with one eye blue and one brown, has been a photographed by many tourists to Switzerland!

24-three-226-DSCF013227-DSCN826728-DSCF0172_crop

 

Some photos of the fortified hilltop village Gruyères (from where Gruyère cheese comes from).  The symbol of Gruyères is the stork (gru, in French).

Driving along the winding road, on suddenly sees a fortified village

Driving along the winding road, on suddenly sees a fortified village

Looking out of Gruyères' entrance.

Looking out of Gruyères’ entrance.

25-DSCN8323

The "gru" is everywhere.

The “gru” is everywhere.

DSCF0125_smlr

Medieval feast of St. John the Baptist, re-enacted 2003.

Switzerland has gorgeous scenery.  All but one of these are from the Lauterbrunnen vallley.

11-P1030123 12-P1030403 13-DSCN8397 14-DSCN8408 15-P1030405 19-P1030404 20-DSCF0002

 

Filed Under: In which I Travel and Dream Tagged With: Gruyeres, Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland

Dreaming in Laon Cathedral, Northern France.

By Anita Mathias

Laon Cathedral (Facade)

Laon Cathedral (Facade)

I’ve long wanted to see Laon Cathedral in Northern France, which featured in the Cathedrals of Europe course I took at Oxford University’s Continuing Education.

It was an enchanted sacred space, with Gregorian chant echoing through it.

Funny, when I am in a Gothic cathedral, I think of it as my soul’s natural home.

Laon Cathedral (Arches above the right aisle)

Laon Cathedral (Arches above the right aisle)

Laon Cathedral (triforium and clerestory)

Laon Cathedral (triforium and clerestory)

Laon Cathedral choir. (Note the floor)

Laon Cathedral choir. (Note the floor)

 

 

Laon Cathedral (Medieval stained glass)

Laon Cathedral (Medieval stained glass)

Laon Cathedral (More recent stained glass)

Laon Cathedral (More recent stained glass)

 

These Gothic cathedrals built during medieval Europe’s building boom were sublime expressions of a community’s devotion.  Entire towns and villages, men, women and children worked together to haul massive slabs of granite uphill, (often in silence, eye-witnesses say) to construct these noble edifices to the glory of God.

The gargoyles outside Laon Cathedral, unusually, memorialize the noble oxen who hefted the granite up the steep hill to the cathedral.

Oxen memorialised at the top of Laon cathedral.

Oxen memorialised at the top of Laon cathedral.

Dragon on the facade of Laon Cathedral..

Dragon on the facade of Laon Cathedral..

An icon of Jesus in Laon has made it a place of pilgrimage. I didn’t particularly care for the icon, but it did express one feature of the Messiah as mentioned in Isaiah, “He had no beauty that we should desire him.”

"The Holy Face" icon, Laon Cathedral.

“The Holy Face” icon, Laon Cathedral.

A few more images of Laon Cathedral

Laon Cathedral (from a nearby cafe)
Bas relief above the main entrance.
Detail from the top of the pulpit (Laon Cathedral)

Laon Cathedral (main entrance)
Atlas (?) (Laon Cathedral)
Carved railing (Laon Cathedral)

 

Filed Under: In which I Travel and Dream Tagged With: Gothic Cathedrals, history of Gothic Cathedrals, icons, Laon Cathedral France, Travel

Platinum and Rubies: In which a Story can Change the World (A guest post by Deidra Riggs)

By Anita Mathias

I am delighted that blogger Deidra Riggs is here to grace my space today. Welcome, Deidra!

(c) Deidra Riggs

(c) Deidra Riggs

It happens nearly every time I’m in a crowd. The Jazz Festival downtown, a train platform, a concert or conference in a massive arena. When walking through crowds at the airport in Chicago, or San Antonio, or Denver, or New York, or wherever it is my travels have taken me I hear myself think, “All of these people…all of these thousands of people, and I’ve never met a single one.” If my husband is with me, I say it out loud.

“What?” he asks me, trying to maneuver his roller bag through the sea of feet in pumps and platform shoes and patent-leather Stacy Adams or plain old flip-flops. Everyone. Going somewhere.

“Oh, you know,” I say, “the same old thing. God knows every single person here, and I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

“Yep,” he’ll say. “He does.”

On the trips I take solo, walking through those crowds, I often get an overwhelming sense of just how much love God has for us, and how much He has invested in every single story.

Other times, I find myself at a stoplight in the town where I live. I’m waiting for the light to turn green, wondering what to cook for dinner, when someone walks in front of my car, crossing the street from one corner to the other.

I look at the way she holds her purse, or the way his wallet makes an impression in the back pocket of his Levi’s 501 jeans, or the way she flicks the ashes from her cigarette, or the way the collar of his plaid shirt lies flat against the nape of his neck, and — just like that — I’m knocked off-kilter by the stories I don’t know. I ask God to keep her safe, and hold him close, and shore up their stories before the calendar turns too many pages.

:::

I eat a giant hamburger, and then go back for one-half more because the guy in charge of the grill has outdone himself. Overhead, two airplanes fly in formation, and in the yard two of the young men kick a soccer ball back and forth. It’s a church cook-out, and this group is still getting to know each other. They are young — part of that age group researchers say are leaving the church. I’m all for research. But this is real life, and these are real people with real stories to tell.

We eat grilled jalepeno peppers stuffed with cheese, and jell-o salad with banana slices suspended inside, and we chew on asparagus right from the grill. There are introductions between those who have not yet met, and I wipe up the drink I spilled on the patio. When the last brownie has been eaten, the group moves inside to sit in overstuffed couches beneath the ceiling fan.

Tonight, the plan is for each of us to tell our story. There are ten of us, and we are told we can pass when it’s our turn. No pressure. No obligation. But no one passes. And the sun has dropped below the rooftops of the house across the street when the last story has been told. And I feel as I’ve been given a gift like rubies in a platinum ring and I want to slip it around my finger — the finger with the blood line that runs straight to my heart.

:::

Across the table, my friend is helping me get ready for a speech I have to give. “When a speaker says, ‘Let me tell you a story,’ what happens to the audience?” she asks me. I nod at her. She puts her elbows on the table in front of her, and then she puts the fingers of her left hand into the palm of her right hand.

I get it.

“Stories are so powerful,” I answer. “They draw us right in.”

“Just like Jesus…and all His stories,” my friend answers.

And now I’m nodding because I really do get it.

Be generous with your story, I hear in my heart. Or maybe it’s my soul. It’s that very same place that spills over when I’m in the airport or sitting in my car, waiting for the light to turn green, or under a ceiling fan with a gift of platinum and rubies dancing in my ears.

Your story? It is platinum and rubies. Your story can change the world.

Deidra Riggs is a writer and speaker. She serves as managing editor at TheHighCalling.org, and is a monthly contributor to incourage.me. As president and owner of JumpingTandem, she invites people to the table by producing retreats, conversations, and other events designed to inspire individuals to pursue the dream(s) God has uniquely designed for them. Deidra also facilitates conversations which encourage churches and church leaders to increase their understanding of different races, cultures, and ethnicities. You can connect with Deidra at her blog, deidrariggs.com. Deidra is married to Harry Riggs. They are the parents of two adult children, and the happy renters of an empty nest.

Filed Under: In which I proudly introduce my guest posters

The Jesus Prayer: A Prayer to Pray when you are Struggling

By Anita Mathias

Kneeling with Giants by Gary Hansen
I was so angry with my husband Roy one night recently that I could not sleep. Oh yes, the sun well and truly went down on my anger.

And the hours passed (or I assume they did—I never look the time during sleepless nights, it makes me more stressed) and I was still awake, and still furious.

Normally, when it cannot sleep, I welcome it as a playdate with God. I pray through my life, asking for wisdom and blessing and guidance in every area of my life. I pray over my involvements, activities, and future. I pray for everyone I care about.

Now all I could think was Roy’s terrible wrong-headedness (it was very late at night, remember!) I was too stressed to pray in tongues, which is what I often do late at night.

And I knew I was not repenting, not obeying Jesus’ command to forgive. But at that moment, I had not reached the emotional point of being able to forgive. I was still too outraged.

So how could I pray?

* * *

Turns out there is one prayer you can still pray when you have not reached the point of repentance, when you are still stuck in the quicksand of sin, and are longingly looking at heights, at the stars. One prayer we can always pray when we feel lost is the Jesus prayer,

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner, repeated again and again in tune with your breathing, until your pulses calm, the prayer prays itself in tune with your heartbeat, and you become the prayer and the prayer becomes you.

* * *

I went to a Festival of Prayer at Ripon Theological College, Oxford, earlier this month, which highlighted contemplative forms of prayer. A treat to find robed Franciscans and Benedictines wandering the campus; I started thinking of The Name of the Rose!

Anyway, I loved my seminar on the Jesus Prayer with Hugh Wybrew. He told us of The Pilgrim’s Tale, discussed more extensively in Gary Neal Hansen’s comprehensive book, Kneeling with Giants (which looks at the prayer practices of Benedict, Luther, Calvin, Ignatius, Teresa of Avila, with an eye to what we can learn from them).

The Pilgrim prayed the Jesus prayer through the day until “his life became so steeped in the Jesus prayer that he prayed it in his sleep. He woke to find his lips forming the words, over and over.”

The prayer was saying itself in his heart, the Spirit was praying it in his heart, the Jesus prayer had become embedded in him, was praying itself through him and in him.

It became “the unceasing, self-activating prayer of the heart,” “a self-igniting flame of prayer.”

* * *

When I come to the Jesus prayer, or, for that matter, to yoga, and begin to pay attention to my breathing, I am astonished at how  short and quick it is, how rushed and intense I have been, though I have not been aware of it.

The Jesus prayer is a way, as Hansen says, of drawing the intellect into the heart, of stilling both mind and body through long slow breaths breathed in tune with the prayer, of approaching God in worship with one’s whole self, mind, spirit and body.

I pray it when I am stressed, when I want to calm down, or as a prelude to prayer. I pray it when I am too anxious or distracted or tired or sleepy to pray coherently

I pray it when I need more of God’s mercy, and that is my deep desire, undeserving, impulsive me, so prone to selfishness, so prone to sloth: Mercy.

And who of us does not stand in need of more of God’s mercy?

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.

 

Filed Under: In which I play in the fields of prayer Tagged With: gary neal hansen, Jesus Prayer, kneeling with giants, Prayer, The Way of the Pilgrim

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Oxford, England. Writer, memoirist, podcaster, blogger, Biblical meditation teacher, mum

Well, hello friends! Breaking radio silence to let Well, hello friends! Breaking radio silence to let you know that I have taped a meditation for you on Christ’s famous Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25. https://anitamathias.com/2025/11/05/using-gods-gift-of-our-talents-a-path-to-joy-and-abundance/
Here you are, click the play button in the blog post for a brief meditation, and some moments of peace, and, perhaps, inspiration in your day 🙂
Hi Friends, I have taped a meditation; do listen a Hi Friends, I have taped a meditation; do listen at this link: https://anitamathias.com/2025/04/08/the-kingdom-of-god-is-here-already-yet-not-yet-here-2/
It’s on the Kingdom of God, of which Christ so often spoke, which is here already—a mysterious, shimmering internal palace in which, in lightning flashes, we experience peace and joy, and yet, of course, not yet fully here. We sense the rainbowed presence of Christ in the song which pulses through creation. Christ strolls into our rooms with his wisdom and guidance, and things change. Our prayers are answered; we are healed; our hearts are strangely warmed. Sometimes.
And yet, we also experience evil within & all around us. Our own sin which can shatter our peace and the trajectory of our lives. And the sins of the world—its greed, dishonesty and environmental destruction.
But in this broken world, we still experience the glory of creation; “coincidences” which accelerate once we start praying, and shalom which envelops us like sudden sunshine. The portals into this Kingdom include repentance, gratitude, meditative breathing, and absolute surrender.
The Kingdom of God is here already. We can experience its beauty, peace and joy today through the presence of the Holy Spirit. But yet, since, in the Apostle Paul’s words, we do not struggle only “against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the unseen powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil,” its fullness still lingers…
Our daughter Zoe was ordained into the Church of E Our daughter Zoe was ordained into the Church of England in June. I have been on a social media break… but … better late than never. Enjoy!
First picture has my sister, Shalini, who kindly flew in from the US. Our lovely cousins Anthony and Sarah flank Zoe in the next picture.
The Bishop of London, Sarah Mullaly, ordained Zoe. You can see her praying that Zoe will be filled with the Holy Spirit!!
And here’s a meditation I’ve recorded, which you might enjoy. The link is also in my profile
https://anitamathias.com/2024/11/07/all-those-who-exalt-themselves-will-be-humbled-the-humble-will-be-exalted/
I have taped a meditation on Jesus statement in Ma I have taped a meditation on Jesus statement in Matthew 23, “For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Do listen here. https://anitamathias.com/2024/11/07/all-those-who-exalt-themselves-will-be-humbled-the-humble-will-be-exalted/
Link also in bio.
And so, Jesus states a law of life. Those who broadcast their amazingness will be humbled, since God dislikes—scorns that, as much as people do.  For to trumpet our success, wealth, brilliance, giftedness or popularity is to get distracted from our life’s purpose into worthless activity. Those who love power, who are sure they know best, and who must be the best, will eventually be humbled by God and life. For their focus has shifted from loving God, doing good work, and being a blessing to their family, friends, and the world towards impressing others, being enviable, perhaps famous. These things are houses built on sand, which will crumble when hammered by the waves of old age, infirmity or adversity. 
God resists the proud, Scripture tells us—those who crave the admiration and power which is His alone. So how do we resist pride? We slow down, so that we realise (and repent) when sheer pride sparks our allergies to people, our enmities, our determination to have our own way, or our grandiose ego-driven goals, and ambitions. Once we stop chasing limelight, a great quietness steals over our lives. We no longer need the drug of continual achievement, or to share images of glittering travel, parties, prizes or friends. We just enjoy them quietly. My life is for itself & not for a spectacle, Emerson wrote. And, as Jesus advises, we quit sharp-elbowing ourselves to sit with the shiniest people, but are content to hang out with ordinary people; and then, as Jesus said, we will inevitably, eventually, be summoned higher to the sparkling conversation we craved. 
One day, every knee will bow before the gentle lamb who was slain, now seated on the throne. We will all be silent before him. Let us live gently then, our eyes on Christ, continually asking for his power, his Spirit, and his direction, moving, dancing, in the direction that we sense him move.
Link to new podcast in Bio https://anitamathias.co Link to new podcast in Bio https://anitamathias.com/2024/02/20/how-jesus-dealt-with-hostility-and-enemies/
3 days before his death, Jesus rampages through the commercialised temple, overturning the tables of moneychangers. Who gave you the authority to do these things? his outraged adversaries ask. And Jesus shows us how to answer hostile questions. Slow down. Breathe. Quick arrow prayers!
Your enemies have no power over your life that your Father has not permitted them. Ask your Father for wisdom, remembering: Questions do not need to be answered. Are these questioners worthy of the treasures of your heart? Or would that be feeding pearls to hungry pigs, who might instead devour you?
Questions can contain pitfalls, traps, nooses. Jesus directly answered just three of the 183 questions he was asked, refusing to answer some; answering others with a good question.
But how do we get the inner calm and wisdom to recognise
and sidestep entrapping questions? Long before the day of
testing, practice slow, easy breathing, and tune in to the frequency of the Father. There’s no record of Jesus running, rushing, getting stressed, or lacking peace. He never spoke on his own, he told us, without checking in with the Father. So, no foolish, ill-judged statements. Breathing in the wisdom of the Father beside and within him, he, unintimidated, traps the trappers.
Wisdom begins with training ourselves to slow down and ask
the Father for guidance. Then our calm minds, made perceptive, will help us recognise danger and trick questions, even those coated in flattery, and sidestep them or refuse to answer.
We practice tuning in to heavenly wisdom by practising–asking God questions, and then listening for his answers about the best way to do simple things…organise a home or write. Then, we build upwards, asking for wisdom in more complex things.
Listening for the voice of God before we speak, and asking for a filling of the Spirit, which Jesus calls streams of living water within us, will give us wisdom to know what to say, which, frequently, is nothing at all. It will quieten us with the silence of God, which sings through the world, through sun and stars, sky and flowers.
Especially for @ samheckt Some very imperfect pi Especially for @ samheckt 
Some very imperfect pictures of my labradoodle Merry, and golden retriever Pippi.
And since, I’m on social media, if you are the meditating type, here’s a scriptural meditation on not being afraid, while being prudent. https://anitamathias.com/2024/01/03/do-not-be-afraid-but-do-be-prudent/
A new podcast. Link in bio https://anitamathias.c A new podcast. Link in bio
https://anitamathias.com/2024/01/03/do-not-be-afraid-but-do-be-prudent/
Do Not Be Afraid, but Do Be Prudent
“Do not be afraid,” a dream-angel tells Joseph, to marry Mary, who’s pregnant, though a virgin, for in our magical, God-invaded world, the Spirit has placed God in her. Call the baby Jesus, or The Lord saves, for he will drag people free from the chokehold of their sins.
And Joseph is not afraid. And the angel was right, for a star rose, signalling a new King of the Jews. Astrologers followed it, threatening King Herod, whose chief priests recounted Micah’s 600-year-old prophecy: the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, as Jesus had just been, while his parents from Nazareth registered for Augustus Caesar’s census of the entire Roman world. 
The Magi worshipped the baby, offering gold. And shepherds came, told by an angel of joy: that the Messiah, a saviour from all that oppresses, had just been born.
Then, suddenly, the dream-angel warned: Flee with the child to Egypt. For Herod plans to kill this baby, forever-King.
Do not be afraid, but still flee? Become a refugee? But lightning-bolt coincidences verified the angel’s first words: The magi with gold for the flight. Shepherds
telling of angels singing of coming inner peace. Joseph flees.
What’s the difference between fear and prudence? Fear is being frozen or panicked by imaginary what-ifs. It tenses our bodies; strains health, sleep and relationships; makes us stingy with ourselves & others; leads to overwork, & time wasted doing pointless things for fear of people’s opinions.
Prudence is wisdom-using our experience & spiritual discernment as we battle the demonic forces of this dark world, in Paul’s phrase.It’s fighting with divinely powerful weapons: truth, righteousness, faith, Scripture & prayer, while surrendering our thoughts to Christ. 
So let’s act prudently, wisely & bravely, silencing fear, while remaining alert to God’s guidance, delivered through inner peace or intuitions of danger and wrongness, our spiritual senses tuned to the Spirit’s “No,” his “Slow,” his “Go,” as cautious as a serpent, protected, while being as gentle as a lamb among wolves.
Link to post with podcast link in Bio or https://a Link to post with podcast link in Bio or https://anitamathias.com/2023/09/22/dont-walk-away-from-jesus-but-if-you-do-he-still-looks-at-you-and-loves-you/
Jesus came from a Kingdom of voluntary gentleness, in which
Christ, the Lion of Judah, stands at the centre of the throne in the guise of a lamb, looking as if it had been slain. No wonder his disciples struggled with his counter-cultural values. Oh, and we too!
The mother of the Apostles James and John, asks Jesus for a favour—that once He became King, her sons got the most important, prestigious seats at court, on his right and left. And the other ten, who would have liked the fame, glory, power,limelight and honour themselves are indignant and threatened.
Oh-oh, Jesus says. Who gets five talents, who gets one,
who gets great wealth and success, who doesn’t–that the
Father controls. Don’t waste your one precious and fleeting
life seeking to lord it over others or boss them around.
But, in his wry kindness, he offers the ambitious twelve
and us something better than the second or third place.
He tells us how to actually be the most important person to
others at work, in our friend group, social circle, or church:Use your talents, gifts, and energy to bless others.
And we instinctively know Jesus is right. The greatest people in our lives are the kind people who invested in us, guided us and whose wise, radiant words are engraved on our hearts.
Wanting to sit with the cleverest, most successful, most famous people is the path of restlessness and discontent. The competition is vast. But seek to see people, to listen intently, to be kind, to empathise, and doors fling wide open for you, you rare thing!
The greatest person is the one who serves, Jesus says. Serves by using the one, two, or five talents God has given us to bless others, by finding a place where our deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet. By writing which is a blessing, hospitality, walking with a sad friend, tidying a house.
And that is the only greatness worth having. That you yourself,your life and your work are a blessing to others. That the love and wisdom God pours into you lives in people’s hearts and minds, a blessing
https://anitamathias.com/.../dont-walk-away-from-j https://anitamathias.com/.../dont-walk-away-from-jesus.../
Sharing this podcast I recorded last week. LINK IN BIO
So Jesus makes a beautiful offer to the earnest, moral young man who came to him, seeking a spiritual life. Remarkably, the young man claims that he has kept all the commandments from his youth, including the command to love one’s neighbour as oneself, a statement Jesus does not challenge.
The challenge Jesus does offers him, however, the man cannot accept—to sell his vast possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow Jesus encumbered.
He leaves, grieving, and Jesus looks at him, loves him, and famously observes that it’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to live in the world of wonders which is living under Christ’s kingship, guidance and protection. 
He reassures his dismayed disciples, however, that with God even the treasure-burdened can squeeze into God’s kingdom, “for with God, all things are possible.”
Following him would quite literally mean walking into a world of daily wonders, and immensely rich conversation, walking through Israel, Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan, quite impossible to do with suitcases and backpacks laden with treasure. 
For what would we reject God’s specific, internally heard whisper or directive, a micro-call? That is the idol which currently grips and possesses us. 
Not all of us have great riches, nor is money everyone’s greatest temptation—it can be success, fame, universal esteem, you name it…
But, since with God all things are possible, even those who waver in their pursuit of God can still experience him in fits and snatches, find our spirits singing on a walk or during worship in church, or find our hearts strangely warmed by Scripture, and, sometimes, even “see” Christ stand before us. 
For Christ looks at us, Christ loves us, and says, “With God, all things are possible,” even we, the flawed, entering his beautiful Kingdom.
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