Anita Mathias | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

In which Lucy fears her mother is in hell, and I long for a theology which reflects Jesus

My friend, Lucy, has recently lost her mum. Her father had died when Lucy was two, and her sister a baby, and her mother had brought them up on an army pension. “She was a shining example of selflessness, and strength in adversity,” Lucy says.

Now, Lucy tells me she is having very awkward conversations with her teenage daughters who adored their lovely grandmother.

You see, Lucy is an evangelical, and her mother was an atheist.

* * *

“What?” I say, appalled. “You can’t believe the Jesus we both know would consign your lovely, kindly strong mum to Hades, to torment, desperate for a drop of water to cool her tongue because she was in agony in the fire?” (Luke 16:23).

“Well,” Lucy says, a trifle doubtfully. “It does say, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.”

I sigh. I am silent. Who am I to argue against John 3:16, Tim Tebow and the massive evangelical tradition?

But I am dubious about pastiche theologies built on selected verses. Especially on a verse which says, “God so loved the world that he sent his son to redeem” not “God so hated the world that he sent his son to condemn it.”

We need to look at the entire revelation of God in Scripture, at the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness (Exodus 34:6). We need to look at Jesus, who modelled mercy and compassion in his life, and in every parable he told, who showed us God as the shepherd looking for the one strayed sheep, the Father on the battlements, looking out in hope for the return of the son who had rejected him.

* * *

A man, MY man, writhes on a cross, dehydrated, asphyxiated, his head pierced with thorns. The pain from his nail-pierced hands and feet is excruciating.

In a haze of exhaustion, he lifts himself on that nail, and says, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Sorry, wait a minute, forgive whom? The believers?

No. Everyone.

Pontius Pilate and the Romans who flogged and crucified him callously, carelessly, because he was too much trouble.

The Pharisees, who delivered him up because of envy because all the people flocked to him. (Matt 27:18).

The crowd who shouted “Crucify him,” the very crowd he had miraculously fed, and who had feted him.

His own disciples who abandoned him

The thief who mocked him

The mockers who said, “He trusteth in God, let God deliver him; let him deliver him if he delights in him.”

* * *

Were all these people for whom Jesus requested forgiveness believers?

Nope.

The night before he had said, “This is my body, broken for you. This is my blood, shed for the forgiveness of sins.”

Whose sins?

The sins of the world.

“Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” John cried. (John 1:29)

My sins, your sins, Lucy’s mother’s sins, my departed father’s sins, the sins of the world.

Jesus taught us to forgive aught against any when we stood praying. Would he do less? Jesus taught us to love our enemies, bless those who curse us, pray for those who persecute us, and do good to those who hate us. Would he do less?

Oh, when will we get the shattering, cosmic significance of the Cross of Christ?

The Father agreeing to send his oldest son as a scapegoat, paying in full for the sins of mankind, everyone, because fathers can be lovely like that.

* * *

So do I believe in hell? Yes, of course, I do. Hell and money were Jesus’ most frequent subjects.

Am I certain of its demography? No. Of course not. But I believe it will be far more sparsely populated than some evangelicals think.

For I do know that Jesus said, “All sins and offences shall be forgiven men,” (Mark 3:28) , except the sin against the Holy Spirit.

* * *

The Jesus I know from the Gospels is a God of mercy, of compassion, a bleeding-heart (liberal, perhaps), with a sharp eye and a sardonic tongue for religiosity and religious hypocrisy which really got him.

When I talked about the Jesus I know, an evangelical friend told me, “You can’t say “the Jesus I know”. You can’t pick and choose.”

But, of course, I have to go with the Jesus I know from my careful reading, study and near-memorisation of the Gospels over the last decades.

How stupid it would be to go with the Jesus someone else knows! With the Jesus of the evangelicals, or the Jesus of the Calvinists, or the Jesus of the liberals, or the Jesus of the liberation theologians, when the real Jesus both lives within the pages of the Gospels and within my heart, ready to step out of the pages and wreak havoc in my life, should I let him?

* * *

All these people had seen and heard Jesus—Pontius Pilate, Herod, the Pharisees, the Saducees, the Jews, the adoring crowd, which later bayed for his blood, the disciples who loved him, and then abandoned him, the women who stuck by him. They made vastly different things of him.

I mean, Jesus is GOD, for heaven’s sake. None of us can comprehend him wholly and entirely. We all have blind spots, blue-spot cataracts, in our comprehension of him.

Why, why, why, are we privileging Calvin’s merciless reading of who goes to heaven, and who doesn’t over our instinctive moral sense and our instinctive knowledge of the Jesus revealed in scripture? We cannot use theology as a stronghold to ensure we are in, and safe, and excused from the rigours of thinking.

WHY should we accept someone else’s pre-digested Jesus, the Jesus of the Catholics, or the Evangelicals or the Jesus of the Calvinists who sends the vast majority of people to hell, the Jesus of those who believe that most of Africa, and Asia and Latin America and Europe will burn in hell, while, they, you see, they accepted Christ in Sunday School aged six and prayed the sinner’s prayer, and so despite a lifetime of greed, cupidity and self-indulgence, they will be in a nice, quiet white heaven.

The Jesus I know is a God of inclusivity, not exclusivity.

Well, all sins and offences shall be forgiven men, Jesus says, so let me not get worked up by stupidity.

* * *

We are made in God’s image. Christ dwells in our heart. When other people’s theology conflicts with our instinctive moral sense, we have to quietly agree to differ, and not sacrifice our common sense, and our instinctive knowledge of God and Christ, to fit in with the dominant theology of our day. Which well may shift within our century.

Salvation is not a theological examination. The sinners prayer is not a shibboleth.

I have family members who are good Catholics, but may not have made a profession of faith Calvin might recognize. Am I afraid that they are in hell? No! I have faith in the goodness of God.

It’s not our works that save us, and it’s not our confessions of faith that save us. And it’s not Scripture that saves us either. It is Christ who saves us because he can, because he is good, and perhaps all our faith contributes but a mustard seed to our salvation, and perhaps all our works contribute but another mustard seed, but ultimately, our eternal destiny, like our earthly destiny, depends on the goodness and mercy of God. Because he is a Father. Because he loves people who are made in his image. Because Jesus shed his blood to atone for the sins of the world.

In which I celebrate Enthusiasm: En Theos, the Spirit of God within Us

By Anita Mathias

My enthusiastic Irene

Enthusiasm. According to the Online Etymological Dictionary, the word derives from enthousiazein “be inspired or possessed by a god, be rapt, be in ecstasy,” from entheos “divinely inspired, possessed by a god,” from en “in” + theos “god”

* * *

For most of my life, I have been super-enthusiastic, interested in everything, always learning, flitting like a butterfly in the winds of fresh enthusiasm for God, for gardening, for art, for poetry, for myth and fairy tale, for travel, for writing, for essays, for memoir, for the theatre, for film, for the Holy Spirit, for prayer, for history, for healthy eating and natural healing, for friendship, for people.

I have seen writers who started out with me, write book after book, while I, I was still learning, still reading, still dabbling in fresh enthusiasm, still experimenting with life.

Hemingway, that king of stylists has something to say to writers like me: In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dulled and know I had to put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well oiled in the closet, but unused.

So there is a season for enthusiasm, for going where you have to go (I’ve visited over 30 countries and lived in three continents!), and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see. But there is also a season to take the dull and blunt instrument of your craft, put it on the grindstone, and hammer it into shape.

And for me—I’ve had lots of adventures, done lots of interesting things—and the bucket list of things I want to do before I die now has but one big item: I want to write lovely books and blogs.

And that’s the enthusiasm I am going to nurture.

***

Yes, there is something of God in enthusiasm. I think I am changing my parenting as I realize that.

I used to watch out for signs of giftedness in my children, and steer them in that direction.

I now realize that for success, and more importantly, to find work which one thoroughly enjoys (and this is one of life’s great gifts), giftedness is secondary to the determination to keep on rowing. To keep on plodding. To put in the 10,000 hours of deliberate practice, and count it all joy.

And for that, enthusiasm is more sustaining than will-power or giftedness—for many people, or all, are multi-gifted. Just because you are gifted at something does not mean you should make it your life’s work, as Roy, my husband. realized when he gave up math research, or Irene, when she gave up chess. Go instead with your greatest enthusiasm. Better to fail at something you love doing, than succeed at something that somewhat bores you!

So I am now watching out for what my children express enthusiasm for. Where the spirit of God within them is leading them.

* * *

I have another life-rule. Never, ever, prematurely quench another’s enthusiasm.

I think I have been guilty of quenching some of my children’s enthusiasm, I myself have done so much, experimented with so much, tried so much, that it’s taken me till middle-age to settle down and get seriously focused.

And so I wanted them to get focused early. Irene, my younger one, is like me, a creature of many and varied enthusiasms. She was a brilliant chess player, and I used to say, “No, Irene. Forget the art or the knitting, or the whatever, focus on your chess.” We stressed her too early, and she’s given it up, after having been ranked the second female in the country for her age ground for a number of years.

She is extremely gifted at writing and literary analysis. When she was 12, her teacher said her analysis of texts and her writing was at GCSE level (age 16). So now, when she comes up with ideas and enthusiasms, I tend to say, “Well, wouldn’t it be better to read? To listen to audiobooks?” But I think I am just going to let her follow her bliss, in Joseph Campbell’s phrase, knowing that many and varied experiences enhance one’s writing, making it richer and meatier, the flesh of a free-range animal, rather than a factory-raised one.

There is a season for enthusiasm, and a season to sacrifice the good for the best. For me, I am in the latter season. For my children, I will leave it to them to decide when they should transition from the season of enthusiasm to the season of focus.

* * *

I use enthusiasm as a guide to whether I should do or continue doing something. It is, in fact, an Ignatian method of discernment. See how doing something makes you feel. See how not doing makes you feel. Your heart, your spirit, your body are giving you the answer. Scripture enters the equation, of course, but this is a better, more holistic way than a Scripture verse lottery, basing your actions on a single verse of scripture, against the wisdom of your head, heart, spirit and body.

I have been leading Bible study groups off and on for 11 years now. Perhaps God gave me the opportunity to infect others with my passion for him; to test out my weird and wacky ideas on people, and see what fell flat, and what evoked a response; to learn to put abstract spiritual ideas in concrete, vivid terms, so as to excite and energize people. And all these were useful lessons for blogging.

But, now feel that era is over. The main enthusiasm I feel is for the last item on my bucket list—blogging and writing books—and like Paul, I want to focus on that one enthusiasm. “One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me.” (Phil 3 13-14).

Busyness is not just FROM the Devil, it IS the Devil (Carl Gustav Jung)

By Anita Mathias

An interesting idea to explore. I came across that statement about 25 years ago in Richard Foster’s classic, “Celebration of Discipline.” As someone who always has lots of books and movies she wants to read and see, places she wants to travel to, people she wants to hang out with, and things she wants to write, I have often been over-busy. Remembering this quote helps me to prune to increase fruitfulness.

Now, for the first time in our married life (22 years!), we are not over-busy. How wonderful that is, to allow the soul to breathe, to catch up with little domestic things we have long intended to do.

Busyness is indeed one of the great enemies of the spiritual life–like ambition, materialism, pride, oh, all those deadly seven…

And how does one become less busy. In the Biblical phrase, “Enquire of the Lord” before you commit to doing things, choose a book to read, choose a project to commit to, write a blog post.

And this will take a lifetime’s practice!!

The Methodist Covenant Prayer: Beautiful, but Unnecessarily Extreme

By Anita Mathias

I am no longer my own but yours.

Put me to what you will,

Rank me with whom you will;

Put me to doing, put me to suffering;

Let me be employed for you or laid aside for you,

Exalted for you or brought low for you;

Let me be full, let me be empty,

Let me have all things, let me have nothing;

I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.

And now, glorious and blessed God,

Father, Son and Holy Spirit,

You are mine and I am yours.

So be it.

And the covenant made on earth,

let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

I like this prayer. It’s beautiful. It’s sublime. It’s noble.

It’s not mine!! It’s not something I pray. And nor do I intend to pray it.

* * *

Put me to what you will. Rank me with whom you will. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be employed for you or laid aside for you. Exalted for you or brought low for you. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing.

That’s, of course, understood in my relationship with Jesus. That I will love him, and do my utmost to have my heart filled with joy and praise and happiness and peace if I am put to things I did not choose, ranked lower than I would have wanted, put to suffering or laid aside, emptied and left with nothing.

I am not saying it would be easy, but, as far as I know myself, I think I would love God whatever, follow Christ whatever. What’s the alternative? Lord, to whom should we go? You have the words of eternal life.

* * *

The Methodist Covenant Prayer was written in more fatalistic times, with a high expectation of infant mortality, of men dying young, of poverty descending in old age. It’s a bit too resigned and fatalistic for me.

And, while the Methodist Covenant Prayer is understood, of course, in one’s relationship with God, Jesus taught us that our blue sky visions are possible because of him.

I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matt 17:20)

If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. (John 15:7)

Greater works than these you will do, because I go to My Father.” (John 14:12)

· * *

So that’s another way of living a Christian life, of striving to live the wild dreams which God has placed in one’s heart, of trying to live in a brilliant, techni-colour world of colour and possibility and adventure and joy and variety (like the wild natural world God designed). Living in an exciting, dreams-coming-true world which an indulgent Papa is delighted to share with you, while accepting, of course, that should all the dire things the Methodist Covenant Prayer envisions happen to, you will still accept them as discipline from your Father’s hand.

Living in the Holy, Inspiring River of God (for Creative Writers)

By Anita Mathias

Ezekiel 47 is my favourite Old Testament chapter, and probably one of the most life-giving chapters in the Bible.

The Angel takes the Prophet deeper and deeper into the River of God which flows from the Sanctuary, first ankle-deep, then knee-deep, then waist-deep, and finally, deep into the “river no one could cross.” All one can do was glide in its currents, and let the river take us where it wills. The River has us.

I stop and wonder where I am in this Holy River. I am still an amphibian, rather than a salmon. I can clamber out on to shore and croak, but I am happiest swimming in its holy rapids

When I am on shore too long, not breathing in the wild life of God through the gills of my soul, I get bored and restless. I shrivel; I miss the exhilarating currents of the river directing me. And, oh what relief and joy it is to return to the unpredictable holy river of the Spirit, full of ideas, and sweetness and direction and insight and let its currents take me where they will.

Where the river empties into the Dead Sea, the water there becomes fresh.

Sometimes my heart feels as old as the sea. Salty. Not much joy in it. Nothing fresh. Same old, same old, same old salt.

Tired salt. Living has temporarily lost its savour.

Ah, there is only one cure for this old salty heart which has lost enthusiasm: the bubbling spirit of God—en theos–within it.

And that is to once again position itself in the river, and let the river of God, the blessed Holy Spirit thoroughly pour through my soul, irrigate it, and make it fresh again.

And so I return to the waterfall. And in returning and in rest, I am saved. In quietness and in confidence is my strength.

I return. I rest. I ask for the fountain to again pour into this bored, cold, weary, sad, distracted, unfocused soul.

And slowly, in a trickle, then a stream, then a rivulet, and sometimes a mighty river, grace irrigates my soul again.

I am enthusiastic—filled with theos, with God—again.

* * *

And the life-giving river brings life to us—and even a livelihood, the best kind!!—wherever it flows!

Swarms of living creatures will live wherever the river flows. There will be large numbers of fish, because this water flows there and makes the salt water fresh; so where the river flows everything will live. ¹⁰Fishermen will stand along the shore; The fish will be of many kinds

· * *

¹²Fruit trees of all kinds will grow on both banks of the river. Their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail. Every month they will bear fruit, because the water from the sanctuary flows to them. Their fruit will serve for food and their leaves for healing.

Love this! The fruit trees which grow by the river are continuously fruitful. They bear fruit every month, because they are nourished by the water of the sanctuary.

Do you know of a tree which bears fruit every month? I don’t. It’s against the normal process of nature which requires budding and flowering before fruiting. But sometimes, God gives that supernatural instantaneous creativity, all at once as when Aaron’s staff, not only sprouted but had budded, blossomed and produced almonds overnight. (Num. 17:8). (And here are some secular creative examples—Milton, Rilke and Blake.)

* * *

And therein lies the secret of creativity without fatigue, creativity without burnout. Continuously positioning yourself in the waterfall of the God’s presence and power. Letting the Holy Spirit fill you. Returning to the waterfall when you are weary and heavy-laden and resting. Letting it restore your soul.

Letting God download ideas and sparkle and iridescence and life and joy and energy from his amazing crashing waterfall into your hungry soul, until you are full, you are full, and the joy and energy from the presence of God is still flowing, overflowing, splashing all those around you with the life which the Father is pouring, still pouring into your soul.

And these evergreen trees, whose leaves never wither, whose fruit does not fail, are a blessing. Their leaves provide healing, their fruit is food, because they are nourished and fed from the very best springs, the water from the sanctuary.

As a Christian writer learns to position herself in the waterfall of God’s presence, and power and ideas, she is in touch with an eternal source of wisdom, intelligence, beauty, ideas and creativity. And so she will never run dry.

* * *

I have been fascinated with the passage for the last three years, and have been going deeper into it—ankle-deep, knee-deep, and now waist-deep and still wading.

R. T. Kendall in his book called “The Anointing,” says the Holy Spirit flowing through you, enables you to do what you could not on your own. But without fatigue, without strain

As I shared, I was in the audience when Mark Stibbe prayed for an anointing to write on us.

And I have received it. I have written almost double of what I used to, without fatigue, without strain. Returned to the memoir I had abandoned. Page views and unique visitors are at a height. And I think I’ve written some good posts.

And to continue writing like this, I will need to continually position myself in the waterfall of God’s presence, and power and ideas. In God’s Niagara which will never run dry.

Blackberries Everywhere, Sweet as the Goodness of God

By Anita Mathias

Blackberries growing wild outside my study.

I walk along the country footpaths around my house, the hedgerows full of blackberries. They’ve been out for weeks, and I’ve seen families gather them for jam or pies, but I, I’m trying to jog, and maintain my pace, or am engrossed in my audiobook, I rarely stop to taste them.

Today, I did, and oh, they were sweet, and delicious.

And ripe with allegory and metaphor.

* * *

Whole sections of our orchard have been taken over by these brambles running wild. We’ve lived here for 8 years now. What a task it’s going to be to tame it!!

Yeah, weeds grow more readily in the garden of life than apple trees; the unwanted proliferates, but in the midst of the jungle of the never-asked-for-this, don’t-want-it which is our life, there remain fat, black, sweet blackberries. In the middle of the thorniest, most ensnarled thicket.

* * *

And the question is, am I stupidly going to be too busy for the banquet?

Or am I going to slow down and savour sweetness in the midst of all the things which didn’t go according to plan, the brambles which have taken over my orchard?

Am I going to stop my mind in her I’ve-Got-To track—got to listen to this book, got to maintain my jogging pace, and instead, slowly savour this goodness given to me unasked, unbidden, freely, generously?

Fat, sweet, ripe delicious blackberries.

Today, I returned my face stained with Holy Communion. I ate those free gifts from the goodness of God.

“Abundance, I give you,” He says. “My own self, I give you. Come, eat.”

If Christianity were an Untrue Myth: Would “a Christian Life” still be beautiful?

By Anita Mathias

When I was teaching myself French, using BBC videos, I heard a French monk sum up his life of silence, community, service, work in the sun, prayer, discipline, regularity, simple eating, simple living, no private possessions, saying, “It’s a beautiful life in itself.”

I last read John Piper’s Desiring God when Irene was a baby, so I can’t quote verbatim, but Piper describes a similar statement by a French monk, and then quotes Paul, ^“If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” He goes on to say it would be foolish to live a Christian life, and follow Christ, if Christ were not in fact the resurrected Lord.

* * *

In contrast is Puddleglum, the heroic Marshwiggle in The Silver Chair.

Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things–trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. . .Then all I can say is, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one.

And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just four babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world.

I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can, even if there isn’t any Narnia ’ (The Silver Chair)

* * *

I myself have absolutely no doubt of the existence of God, or of Jesus. And, when it comes down to it, it’s because of personal experience of them.

In one of her videos, American Bible teacher, Beth Moore, says she was asked, “How do you know that Christ is real?” She answered, “If he wasn’t, then I must be crazy, because I talk to him all the time, and he answers.”

* * *

In the unlikely event that all the times small and astonishing miracles happened because I prayed; things changed; people changed; I changed—were just a coincidence; if the times when I came to prayer depressed and beaten down, and left full of joy, if all this too was illusory– it would still be worth following Christ.

Today, I read someone honestly saying what he wished on his high school bullying tormentors:

I used to wish bad things for those guys. I hoped that karma would get them. That they would be impotent. Or in unhappy marriages. Or living miserable lives. I wanted revenge but, alas, vengeance was not mine to be had.

Oh come on! Why would we choose to live in this angry mental state? This horrible turmoil. This impotent hatred. This evil, negative mental state.

How much better to follow Jesus’s instructions to “Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who persecute you.”

And be free. And live in a mental state of peace and good will and high energy.

* * *

“Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.”

Even if Jesus were not God, would it not be better for us to be women of your word, to be trusted and relied on, rather than lying, or changing our minds, or whinging our way out of things if something better came along?

· * * *

“Do not worry. Do not be afraid, ” Jesus says many times, in many ways. “I have worried about many things in my life, most of which never happened,” said Mark Twain. So have I. So have you. Wouldn’t it be better not to worry about many things most of which never happen–whether Jesus were God, or not?

* * *

Gentleness–Jesus teaches. The Kingdom of God is within us, and so preserve your peace, and sweetness. Let there be honey within your soul.

Gentleness, he preaches: If someone forces you to go one mile, go two. If someone slaps you, don’t slap him back. He would retaliate, and you would both be bruised. Gently turn the other cheek.

Oh all this is sublime, almost to the point of insanity. Sublime, and wise. Isn’t it better to march two miles in love, and prayer, than one in hatred and resentment? Isn’t it better to have one hard, and one gentler slap, than retaliate, and end up with broken bones?

* * *

Oh Jesus, you are sublime, and you are wise, and you are brilliant, and it makes total sense to follow you teachings whether you are God, or not.

But, oh, how delighted I am that you are indeed my Lord, and my God!

Can an Individual Change Another Through Prayer Alone?

By Anita Mathias

I have a good friend, who prays constantly.

He married, when very young, a woman who’s “feisty,” in his words, and bossy and critical. (They have 6 children, and not much money, so my sympathies are with her).

Anyway, my friend told me that when he sees something he does not like about his wife, or one of his children, he makes a note of it on the little index cards he uses to pray, and takes it up with God.

For instance, he started praying that his wife would be more gentle with him.

That his son, whose ambition it was to own Microsoft would love God more than money.

That his children would be less mean to each other.
* * *

And most of these things came to pass.

But not without several changes in my friend himself. These included an emotional and nervous breakdown during which he was unable to work and accepted the Kingship of Jesus over himself (the very Lordship he had so wanted his children to acknowledge.)
* * *

Back to my question. Can an individual change another through prayer alone?

Yes, I believe so.

If prayer works, and is for real–and the whole thrust of Scripture tells us that does and is–than prayer can change anything, including the people we love.

It takes a while, it takes faith–and since God has a sense of humour which borders on the perverse–it might often involves changes in the deep structure of our own personalities.
* * *

Prayer is dynamite–explosive in its power–and we are invariably caught in the friendly fire of our prayer for another.

And change, the shedding of our dragon skin–is never without pain.
* * *

When I see a desperate need for change in someone else, which neither my advice, nagging, bullying or manipulation can bring about, I resort to prayer. (As I get wiser, I am glad to report, this is becoming more of a first resort rather than a last resort.) And it does work, invariably, in surprising ways.

Hudson Taylor had this amazing goal and motto, “To Move Man, Through God, by Prayer Alone.” He used this in small things (when his employer forget to pay him) and in large, to raise tens of thousands of pounds for the China Inland Mission.

The hearts of people are in the hands of God, and he sways them how he wills. And an old adage goes, “Prayer is the hand which moves the hand of God.”

(An edited archive post)

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