Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

The Barbarian Way: Unleash the Untamed Faith Within by Erwin McManus: A Guest Review by Shaun Turner

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From Anglican to Barbarian in 141 pages
or “How I learned to stop waiting and start doing…”
Erwin Raphael McManus
Purpose. A word that has driven many a Christian to distraction (aside from Rick Warren, he’s done OK writing about Purpose), anger and even tears. What is my purpose? What is my mission? What am I called to do to preach the Gospel? What can I offer God? How can I serve Him using my talents and gifts?
We can all, I am sure, relate to some of those in one way or another, at some point in our journey and I can put my hat on two of those at least. For 10 years now I have been striving to walk humbly yet speak boldly, to love and care with the Gospel as my salve, but it was not ever thus…
* * *
Nine years ago I was invited to a leadership seminar with a few people from my church in West Bridgford, Nottingham. Some small church called “Willow Creek” was running the show and scanning the list of speakers I came across the name “Erwin McManus” (EM) which did not mean a lot to me at the time but was someone who would have a big impact on my life over the next few years.
After the seminar I went back to my church but something was happening inside, my spirit was restless for something. A while later (2006) I bought a copy of McManus’ new book “The Barbarian Way: Unleash the Untamed Faith within.”  This radically changed my perception of what it means to serve God and take risks for Him.
By his own admission, McManus had an interesting upbringing, a “pot-luck” of faiths and religions ranging from Buddhism to Catholicism up to Evangelicalism and, whilst you may not agree with every one of his exegetical positions, the Trinitarian backdrop to his overall theology renders a lot of his arguments compelling, to say the least.
In a nutshell, his argument in “The Barbarian Way” as I understood was this:
Don’t wait too long for God to tell you what to do, if you are a passionate believer in Christ’s sacrifice for our sins and your zeal for His glory burns within you, do SOMETHING. God will offer clarification when you need it.
Like all authors of his type (he describes himself as the “Lead Pastor and Cultural Architect of Mosaic Los Angeles”… a “reference point for the future church” and he “collaborates with a team of dreamers and innovators”[1]) he makes great use of the sound-bite statement. In fact on every page you could highlight at least two that essentially convey the message of the chapter or element. My copy which has been read and re-read is replete with highlights and notes – every time I read it I connect a few more dots and that is part of what makes it so compelling. That said, it’s not for everyone – my Catholic friend said “Meh!” in response when I asked her what she’d thought of it!
McManus essentially strives to do two things with this book; to strike at the heart of a complacent western religion that values unity above service and to re-ignite the fire ignited within each believer as they came to Christ. Ultimately he’s not saying anything new, but he does say it in a new way! The cultural relevance of his message means that its time will come again, indeed, perhaps it is not yet over. His passion is for movement and momentum, for an opportunistic, spirit-led, even chaotic response to the missional imperative, all in the name of the God we serve.
In some ways this was (and is) a manual for its time, a book that seeks to shake us up and remind us that the Great Commission involved the word “Go” not “stay”.[2]The simplicity of the message within, broken down as it is into four chapters, belies the passion that he clearly feels for the lost but also for the Christian that has yet to connect with a person-specific mission.
McManus goes to great pains to break down the construct of a happy Christian, content with a life of normality. He surrounds himself with creative, fidgety and passionate, artistic people so it’s natural that this should be evident through his writing and perhaps this is why it connected with me. It gave a voice to the disconnect I felt as a creative person within my Anglican setting.  It allowed me to see beyond the façade of smoothness and look at the church below the waterline and crucially, to connect with people and to develop the Volte ministry as an expression of creativity.
If I had to find one quote from his book that sums it up it would be this:
If you are a follower of Christ and you have allowed yourself to be domesticated, you have lost the power of who you are and who God intends for you to be. You were not created to be normal. God’s desire for you is not compliance and conformity. You have been baptised by Spirit and fire.
There is so much within this book that will ignite, annoy, infuriate and change you that to not read it would frankly be a mistake in my opinion, but I must warn you, to read it is to be changed, again.
Many a ministry or project has I am sure been born from the encouragement found within the pages of this small but ultimately big book – many a Christian (me included!) has found the missing piece of the puzzle that enabled us to create something in our community space that reaches out, preaches the Gospel and shares Jesus with others.
McManus has written many books since, have a look on Amazon to see his output.  However, I feel “The Barbarian Way” is by far his most potent, mixing as it does a missional imperative, a desire to serve and a call to arms whatever those “arms” may be.
                                                                             *******
Shaun Turner
Shaun Turner is a co-founder of “Volte” – a ministry dedicated to helping the Church discover new streams of creativity and to nurture the creative within, by developing new expressions of the faith journey, encouraging the visionary, and finding imaginative perspectives that stimulate discovery, renewal or a deepening of a relationship with God. They also work with schools to deliver innovative, fun and challenging faith experiences to help stimulate and develop the young enquiring mind. www.volte-tbf.com
[1]    The Barbarian Way – hard back edition – pp 145m – paraphrase
[2]    The Barbarian Way – hard back – page 5

The Bruised Reed by Richard Sibbes (A Guest Post by Cat Caird)

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Richard Sibbes once said to Thomas Goodwin – “Young man, if ever you would do good, you must preach the Gospel and the free grace of God in Christ Jesus”. This is something I need to hear in my Christian walk, as a wife, in my job and as a member of the local church and this is exactly what the “Bruised Reed” by Sibbes did for me. It preached to me the Gospel and the free Grace of God. It reminded me of the beauty of Christ and the joy of knowing the Lord.


And I needed this because when I picked up this book, I was downcast, doubting and unsure in my Christian walk. I was not in a season of well-being. However as I picked it up and opened its pages and read the words of Christ’s gentle love for me, it reminded my heart of what a wonderful God we have and how he can soothe our soul. It was like a fire being held to my heart, melting away the aches, the ice and the hardness, and replacing it with Christ’s comfort and tender love which I felt I needed. This is probably one of my favourite book recommendations for anyone who is in a season of heartache, discouragement, tiredness or darkness. The reason I like it is that it doesn’t shout rebuke and it doesn’t make you feel guilty, but it brings you to Christ, our refuge, which is where we all need to go

Martyn Lloyd-Jones said that this book was “balm to my soul” at a time in his life when he was tired and downhearted. When we face a Psalm 42 season, it’s easy to look inwards and let sin and self-pity spiral out of control. But when we look outwards and towards the glory of Jesus Christ, then His words and Grace will certainly be a balm to our souls. This was what Sibbes was doing, by showing us that as bruised reeds, Christ will not break us but he will restore us and he will not allow us to wallow in self pity but he will win our gaze to him. 


Equally when we are a smoking flax, with hardly a flame, he will not put us out and deem us as worthless (as perhaps we ourselves, or other Christians would), but he deals gently with us and soon restores the flame as he warms our hearts. So, right now, no matter where you are spiritually and emotionally, you need to hear the Gospel, and so I would recommend you reading this book and let the Gospel minister to you, enjoy its rich imagery and let the love of Christ be a balm to your soul!


     He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice,
        or make it heard in the street;
     a bruised reed he will not break,
        and a faintly burning wick he will not quench;
        he will faithfully bring forth justice.
                                                              (Isaiah 42:2-3 ESV)
*******

Cat Caird

Cat Caird is married and works as a Staff Worker with UCCF. She blogs at Sunshine Lenses.
Thank you, Cat!! 

“Wives, submit to your husbands in everything,” and other embarrassing Paulisms

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“Slaves, obey your masters in everything,” Paul writes (Col 3:22). Well, perhaps Matt Redman hadn’t read this, for he has just launched a CD to help the 27 million human beings unjustly enslaved at the moment.
Or perhaps, Redman assumed that Paul was writing to a first century audience in the Roman Empire, not a 21st century audience.   As we tacitly do, when we hear Paul insist on women wearing head-coverings in church, or not speaking in church, or having authority over a man.
But then, things get all weird and wonky when we come to “Wives, submit to your husbands in everything.”
Whole ministries have built around this idea, ie. Bill Gothard who has done untold damage in America by his dangerous and unbalanced insistence that women should submit to their husbands, no matter what. Whole books have been written on this precept like the embarrassing and misogynistic “The Excellent Wife” which was popular in some Christian circles when I lived in America. I distrust ministries or churches which major in just a few precepts. They are unbalanced (and often spring from some deep psychological or emotional disturbance on the part of their leaders.)
* * *
Logos and Rhema. I find these concepts helpful in reading Scripture. Logos is the written word of God, and we engage with it in its entirety. Rhema is when the word comes alive for you, when the Spirit, so to say, underlines sentences as the word of God spoken to you.
I read “Wives, submit to your husbands in everything,” and it’s not a rhema word; the spirit does not convict me. I truly believe Paul was writing to the women he knew, uneducated, unemployed, with little experience of the world.  Just as when he talks about long hair or head covering or slavery, he is, perhaps, not talking to all people of all time.
We were discussing this in my North Oxford women’s group which I am co-leading. I looked around the room, at these professional women–professors, doctors, writers, nurses, administrators, whose wisdom and grace and intelligence, and in many cases, experience, was the same as their husbands. Were they to submit in everything to their husbands?
And I thought “No, no more than slaves are to submit to their masters.”
And if their husbands were to insist on submission, well, the more fool they!! They would be depriving themselves of the wisdom, experience, insight, right-brainedness of half of the partnership.
                * * *
So then, in a marriage between equals, the way forward is dialogue and compromise.
And what if it cannot be reached?
Well, if you can do it and not die in the attempt, there is a kind of freedom in giving up your own way, in not being a slave to having to get your own way by manipulation, bullying, heavy-handed persuasion or continual nagging. In an impasse, you shrug and yield in some areas, and get time and freedom and emotional energy to invest in other areas you care about equally, or far more.
And then, it’s kind of nice to claim the scriptural protection. “Lord, ultimately I am not insisting on my own way in this impasse, because scripture is inspired and you said, “Submit to one another out of reverence to Christ.”
* * *
When would I personally not submit?
In anything I consider morally or ethically wrong, because submission to God comes first. (The issue hasn’t arisen!)
I sometimes refuse to go along with a decision or wish if it is made out of fear, let’s say, rather than faith, or is a decision of staggering stupidity, IMO.
For instance, at a volatile juncture in our lives, we got some marital counselling from an retired Anglican clergyman and psychotherapist who happened to be gay (The good friend who recommended him, a female priest, being politically correct, did not tell us this initially.)
Well, he helped us a lot with common-sense practical solutions to many areas of minor unease and dysfunction in our lives and marriage. The issues we had begun to see him for resolved. Each week, I would hope this was the last, and then he’d say, almost shyly, “When would you like to see me again?” I began to wonder if he was lonely, or needed the money. Our hearts would sink when it was the day of counselling, because we often would have nothing much to discuss, and it took precious time.
And then, I realized something. He almost always took Roy’s side. If I said something like, “Well Roy lost his temper spectacularly,” he’d ask, “Well, what was the trigger?” rather than deal with the spectacular northern lights, and thunderstorms.
If Roy mentioned something I had done, the counsellor would explain how annoying that was, and that his mother did the same. Once, I spoke rapidly and sharply to Roy as we were trying to resolve an issue. And this man said, “Do you know what you sound like?” and did an imitation, leaning forward, snapping his fingers, shouting.
 I looked at him with a cold shiver of disgust. I had done none of those things. Hadn’t raised my voice, or clicked my fingers, or used his body language. But obviously that was what I had sounded like to him. He was replaying ancient scripts. Seeing himself as a cowering five year old before a domineering mother. He wasn’t hearing me; he was hearing a woman who gave him a fear and hatred of women. He needed to deal with his own mess and demons!
I changed the topic. “Slippery footwork,” he said. “Aren’t you going to engage?” What rudeness! “Actually, I am not,” I said, somewhat contemptuously.
I had had an epiphany.
“The man’s a fool,” I said to Roy. “I am not going to take the counsel of a fool. I am particularly not going to pay to take the counsel of a fool.”
How does one know a wise man from a fool? Proverbs has various suggestions, which sometimes makes me cringe. “A fool gives full vent to his fury, but a wise man keeps himself under restraint.” What I find most helpful is Jesus’ metaphor of the house. How have you built the house of your life? What remains in the end? Intelligence is neither here nor there. If you want to gauge a person’s wisdom, look at their life. How have they built the house of their life?
As we walked in out of the sunshine to his dark, cluttered office, full of unwholesome books like “Oral sadism in the vegetarian personality” and “Sadomaschoistic sex and ….” my spirits would sink, and I’d feel uncomfortable and miserable. I’d feel a sad, inward shudder. Instantly depressed. When we left the man’s office, my spirits would rise, I’d be happy again–and I’d like Roy again! We’d both relieved and happy.
One of my key principles for accepting advice is that I need to respect the person. I need to see a greater wisdom and maturity and sweetness and goodness and holiness in their lives than in my own.
This man was self-protective, not a risk-taker. His life was governed by caution and common-sense. And so he landed up in a dark house and office, living an isolated, friendless, safe, commonsensical,  joyless life, as I surmised from various tidbits he divulged and what from I observed. Risked little, loved little, made  v. few mistakes, lost little, gained little.
No, no. I want to live fully, even if I take on too much, over-commit, make mistakes. I want to love. I want to take risks if that’s what I hear God saying. I want to hear God and obey, which is, of course, the opposite of leading a safe, orderly, predictable life.
* * *
Roy got very cross, at this abrupt ending to our counselling. Well, it was a love-fest for both of them; he was always explaining Roy to me, though it was me who’d lived with Roy for two decades plus. “He’s helped us so much; we’ve changed so much,” Roy said plaintively.
“I simply cannot continue to take the counsel of a fool,” I said, firmly.
And I thought of Ephesians 5:22. “So was I wrong, Lord?” I ask. “You know it became impossible for me to step into that man’s dark office again.”
And I felt absolutely certain that Christ did not think I was wrong either. Did not want me to continue either. After all, I know a guy in whom is hidden all treasures of wisdom and knowledge (Col 2:3). If I burrow into his heart, I will be safe.
And, praise God, since I refused to see that counsellor, we have not had an issue we haven’t been able to resolve ourselves. But if I hadn’t put my foot down, we would have been seeing him for years and years—well, if he had anything to say about it!!

Emotional and Psychological Healing through the Grace and Mercy of God

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   All my life, I have longed to have sudden healing, a sudden breaking of addictions through the power of God, a sudden change of the deep structure of my personality.
But sudden and dramatic change has never happened for me. It’s been slow, slow, slow.
* * *
Well, after an ultrasound showed abnormal results I was biopsied for endometrial cancer for which the greatest risk factor was being overweight. Which I am. Should get the results in a couple of weeks.
And of course, I was full of remorse and shock at what I had done to my body.
You know until quite recently, I thought the reason I was overweight was that I ate carelessly, ate the wrong foods, and didn’t exercise enough.
I have now realized that it’s because I eat when I am not hungry—but empty, bored, stressed, frustrated with work or life, thinking of food, sad, depressed, or even happy!!
That’s so silly. It’s like making money when you are hungry; or watching a movie rather than inviting a friend to coffee when you are lonely.
But–of course, changing the response to the stimuli  (being angry, stressed, lonely, bored, anxious, restless, happy) to an appropriate one, rather than cure-all eating is going to involve slowing down.
And that is the only way to do the spiritual life—Slow!!
* * *
Food has been a short-term cure-all for me, and since I have a very sensitive body chemistry, sugary food and carbs swiftly sends my blood sugar and mood rocketing sky-high, with a corresponding plunge into lows, which would be cured by—more eating. All this had nothing to do with hunger but with addiction to sugar highs (chocolate, cookies, fudge, waffles, breads, crisps).
Sugar addiction is as toxic and serious as other addictions.  After you’ve eaten sugar—blood sugar soars, then plummets, and the body craves more sugar. The only way to break it is cold turkey. Or the grace of God.
* * *
 So, I humble myself and go and seek prayer for emotional or comfort eating after church on Sunday, Feb 12th.
And the ladies pray, and one of them say, “Well, dear, the Holy Spirit is our Comforter. We can turn to the Holy Spirit instead of food.”
And it’s as if all lights come on in techni-colour brilliance. And so I start–when tempted to eat because I have thought of delicious food and now crave it, or am bored, or empty or sad—to stop work, lie down and pray in tongues for the filling of the Holy Spirit.
The interesting thing about this, is that it is one prayer Jesus tells us will always be answered.
11 “Which of you fathers, if your son asks fora fish, will give him a snake instead? 12 If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”
* * *
I have always found the experimental nature of Christianity fascinating. Taste and see. I have found that when I stop activity and pray in tongues for the Holy Spirit is takes probably under 5 minutes for me to feel bubbly and happy again. Hey, sure beats chocolate. I will leak, and need a refilling, of course–as with chocolate–but really, the Holy Spirit for my heart and soul hungers—that’s the way for me.
So this happened nearly a month ago now. How am I doing?
I really did well in the beginning. But Jacob, limping, would always have needed a stick for long distances. I will only be cured by continuing to walk with the Holy Spirit. It was a healing, insofar as I was given grace to turn to the Spirit instead of to food, but it’s a healing that will need me to decide to walk in it each day.
I noticed I was slipping yesterday, nibbling on ginger biscuits a friend brought me, eating chocolate macaroons at another friend’s house. Yes, I received the sort of healing  that brought me to the place where I had strength to put on prayer and the Holy Spirit instead of food, but I still have to remember to ask, put off, put on.
·      * *
I am really interested in the psychological dimension of healing. I have a friend who has crippling SPD, symphysis pubis dysfunction. Each time she was prayed for, she became better. And then relapsed. A pattern: prayer at New Wine, after church services, in small groups. Heat, feeling dramatically better. Delighted declarations of this. Then a relapse.
Yesterday, a blogger, Emma, described feeling pain relief from a ulcer on her tongue for one hour after a parishioner prayed for her, and two hours after the leaders prayed for her!!  So what’s going on? Were these women healed for just an hour or two? Or did faith falter after an hour or two, as Peter’s faith faltered when he walked on the waters. And, as you’ll remember, he began to sink.
Does receiving healing involve the present continuous, continuing to believe that you have been healed, continuing to thank God for his healing. For me, I believe I received emotional healing. So my cravings are less strong; I can pray for the Holy Spirit when tempted to eat when I am not hungry rather than grabbing chocolate or crisps. But I will have to continue to do so, to walk in my healing.
I picked up this leaflet on How to Keep Your Healing when I went to Fflad-y-Brenin late last year. We sometimes need to continue walking in the faith through which we have been healed.

 

by Sharon George
From Ffald-y-Brenin

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Random Kindness and Senseless Acts of Beauty: The Good Samaritan

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 In a quid pro quo world, he stands out. 

The Samaritan who helps the wounded man

From a race which despised him.

Going out of his way

And out of pocket

For a man he did not know,

Who could not repay him

Whom he might never meet again.

 

And what did he gain from

This random kindness and senseless act of beauty?

 

Not money, he landed up out of pocket

Not time, he lavished it.

Just random things:

An immortality in our collective memory,

Becoming a living inspiration,

Eternal Life.

 

But especially, he got to be a Son of God.

And if you do good to those who are good to you,

what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. 

 But love your enemies, do good to them,

and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.

 Then your reward will be great,

and you will be children of the Most High,

because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. (Luke 6:33)

 

He got to be a Son of God most high

And all the blessings of his Father’s household:

Protection, abundance,

Peace, joy–and a smile

Were his.

 

Who is my neighbour?

Whom should I help?

Helping those who have helped me,

Or will help me, is a despicable calculation, Lord.

 

Within my limitations of time, calling and energy,

Let me open my hands wide, Lord

As you do, generously,

Letting your sun shine

And our rain fall lavishly, on everyone,

For lavishness is your nature.

 

Change my heart, oh Lord.

“Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret” : A Guest Post by Dan Schmidt

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Interspersed with my own blog posts, I will be running a new series on the ONE Christian book which has most influenced you. If you’d like to guest-post, email me at anitamathias1ATgmail.com. Thanks.

Dan Schmidt opens the series, with a book whose central chapter I have read and posted on several times, and tried to “get.” “Getting it” even a little bit, as I have, is life-changing!

A friend left a message on my cell phone to call, asking me to call, which I did. We talked via Skype: me in Florida, my friend in China. Such an occurrence hardly raises a pierced eyebrow these days—who can’t connect with someone half a world away in less time than it takes to brew a latté? And China—even that hardly registers. What once was on the earth’s far side is now less than a day away by air-conditioned , wi-fi enabled jet.

As my friend and I were talking, I was thinking of another person who had moved to China for work, but whose experience was quite different. In 1854, James Hudson Taylor left medical school and booked passage on a steamer that would take him from England to Shanghai. That journey required more than five months.
I think of Hudson Taylor often. His son’s account (Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret) is one of the engrossing ‘missionary stories’ that started finding their way to my shelves during high school and college. Then, when I finished grad school and joined a church planting team, I scoured its pages for tips, but got more than I bargained for. My tradition—devout, sincere, and zealous about evangelism—had not prepared me for the sort of encounter with Spirit that Hudson Taylor had. Once he stumbled upon the ‘exchanged life’, Taylor had a new outlook on all he encountered. Reading about this was stirring as I faced challenges in the work to which God had called me. I wanted to find the peace and confidence Taylor recommended.


Taylor notes that striving towards and anxiety about ‘the Christian life’ is common, but leaves us worn out and dissatisfied. He talks instead of resting in the Lord, “to let my loving Saviour work in me His will…. Abiding, not striving nor struggling; looking off unto Him; trusting Him for present power…”. The little saying that we toss off sometimes–“Let go, and let God”–would be a good summary of what Taylor saw as a release from trying so hard and an acceptance of what God wants to do in a heart captivated by Him. Taylor quotes Paul, in saying it is no longer I, but Christ who lives in me (Gal 2:20). It’s a handy phrase, but one that also drops a person into deep water…

Hudson Taylor was a pioneer several times over. Not only did he leave China’s coast (where most of his contemporaries were active) for that vast land’s interior, but he also started a new mission agency so as to put into play what he was learning. Previously, mission agencies—still in their infancy—consisted of the ‘home office’ that raised money, approved candidates, and supervised those on fields far away. Taylor’s China Inland Mission, established in 1866, was “content with little in the way of organization.” One of the every first ‘faith missions’, CIM did not actively solicit funds or workers. Taylor would sound the call, gather people for prayer, pray himself, and leave results to God. Alarmed by this novel effort, one observer warned, “You will be forgotten.”
Another of Taylor’s innovations was to adopt local customs. At the time, this was roundly criticized, and it cut Taylor off from much of the established ministry community. But some noticed that this young Brit had become extraordinarily effective in reaching Chinese people, and soon others were following his example. Taylor’s idea has since been taken up by people like Lesslie Newbingin, Shane Claiborne, and practitioners of ‘missional’ Christianity, who recognize effective kingdom ministry calls for the study of and even being shaped by one’s culture.
But to focus on methods would be to miss the man’s particular madness, for Hudson Taylor discovered that for all his industry and willingness to embrace change, he was lacking a heart full of God. This nearly drove him to distraction, but once he stumbled upon a simple, elegant ‘secret’, he could hardly speak of anything else. Fixated as he was on “not striving after faith, but resting on the faithful One,” Taylor would talk and write to those around him about giving all over to God in absolute trust. He found his credo in the hymn Jesus I am resting, resting …, which he would sing while walking the streets or pacing rooms where he stayed.
Taylor faced difficulties: he buried young children, lived on the thin edge of poverty, attracted public ridicule, weathered storms, bandits, and political upheavals. He also never tired from pushing forward, into China’s interior and around Europe and the US, urging people to care for the millions who lived outside the news of God’s love. His work was supported by George Mueller, Andrew Bonar, Charles Spurgeon, D. L. Moody, and many others, less well-known, but drawn along by the passion they witnessed.
Hudson Taylor counted on women to open fields for missionary service, and gave away most of his personal funds. He urged people to spend their lives on China, and made no promises for their care other than to point them to a loving Father who would never forget them. After a convalescence in Switzerland necessitated by chronic poor health, he returned to China when he was 73; Taylor died there days before he was scheduled to preach in Hunan province. The mission to which he gave his life resulted in an agency—now known as Overseas Mission Fellowship—that is nearly 150 years old.
The former physician’s assistant who insisted that “God’s work, done in God’s way, will never lack God’s supplies,” also said that “I never made a sacrifice”—and by recording both lines for us, this book officially qualifies as dangerous. I read it when I want or need to be reminded that when “God calls a person, He bids him come and die”—to quote Jim Elliot, another missionary who was similarly intense, extreme, committed, and effective. I also find in Hudson Taylor’s Spiritual Secret that apart from the thrilling adventure of opening a ‘foreign’ country to the Gospel, Taylor’s story revolves around the deep yearning for a life full of Spirit—and that’s where I want to go. 


Dan Schmidt

Dan Schmidt has pastored churches, eaten wot on injera in Ethiopia, and fished for sharks. He was raised among expatriates, and has lived in Latin American and central Pennsylvania with his family. Dan is the author of three books of devotional exegesis and two novels; he blogs at www.toucanic.net.

An Autobiography in Blog Posts: IV. Oxford Redux.

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A picture of our house from the back garden



And here’s the last installment

So we left to England, ostensibly for 9 months, but I had plans and schemes and dreams… and hoped never to live in America again. We were all excited, including the girls who loved and laughed and wept and thrilled and chilled over Harry Potter.
We went to Manchester in 2004, where Roy was a distinguished visiting fellow at the University of Manchester for a year. It was a lovely interlude. We arrived with 8 suitcases, and so housekeeping was easy. Then Roy visited America, and returned with 2 suitcases–housekeeping a little harder–and then, the shipment he’d sent arrived. Never again got on top of things. Lesson: Declutter, declutter, declutter—and housework is easy. I still have weekly decluttering sessions—as I have been doing for the last four years!!
We lived in Didsbury, Manchester, and found a good welcoming church, Ivy Manchester, and a good school, Didsbury C of E: an oasis of a year, friendly, open people, and lots of reading and writing.
And then Roy got another dream fellowship—an inter-disciplinary fellowship from the US National Science Foundation, to study a new discipline, anywhere he liked.
And well (of course) we picked Oxford—the Mathematical Institute at Oxford University, where he studied Mathematical Biology.
And then he was offered a chair, a Professorship of Applied Mathematics at the University of Birmingham in 2006.
And I flatly refused to move to Birmingham.
I had found a dream house where we still live, in Oxford, which I love. “Have no interest in Birmingham, won’t live there,” I said, dreading another 12 years in a place in which I’d rather not live. So, Roy sadly shrugged and agreed to commute.
                                                                 * * *
And so I buy the dream house, though, after using the proceeds from our house in America as a down payment, the mortgage was six times Roy’s then salary. And we put both girls in an expensive all girls’ private school, Oxford High school.
And so I guess for the first time in my life, I needed to work to finance this expensive life-style we had committed ourselves too.
So, were these two financial decisions, the too expensive house and the too expensive school errors?
Lol! I don’t know if I would recommend them to anyone else. But as Roy will tell you with great sorrow, I can be a bit of a holy fool where money is concerned. You see, I truly believe that God owns the cattle on a thousand hills, that he is a loving father, that he will release money for the home which is just right for a family; the school which is just right for children. (Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t turn to me to me for financial advice. Or, perhaps you should!)
* * *
I am convinced that God has a sense of humour. He always has the last laugh.
In Williamsburg, where I was bored and lacking stimulation and full of self-pity, I was able to read and write (albeit not very much since I was depressed). In Oxford, one of the most literary cities in the world, for the first 3.5 years in business, I was not able to read or write, because I was consumed by business. Yeah, have done more reading and literary writing in Williamsburg, Virginia, than in literary Oxford, England, irony of ironies.
(Come on, Lord, this is not humour. This is irony! What are you trying to teach me? To rely on you alone for the fulfilment of my dreams?  And well, if heartbreak be the pencil to teach me that, then heartbreak is worth it. )
 I did however join Writers in Oxford, a social organization founded by Philip Pullman, yeah, 140 writers, and went to fortnightly drinks parties and social events, including one he hosted. Met several interesting, stimulating writers. Going there reminded me that I wanted to be a writer—ontologically wasa writer–and sometimes made me cry that I was not writing.
Ironically this September, I decided to focus on my blogging and writing, and so each evening became precious, and I dropped out. “Mum, why have you dropped out of Writers in Oxford now that you’ve become a real writer?” Zoe asks. Yeah, one can never get conceited in this family!!
    * * *
I didn’t think I could raise the kind of money I needed in a salaried job, and since I needed serious money, I decided to start a business. We are natural entrepreneurs, and have always been toying with ideas for businesses. I thought having a bookshop would be so cool, so I founded an online one, selling antiquarian books.
Well, the romance of books never died for me, even over that exhausting 14 months, though my hands quite literally gave out with all that typing, pricing and repricing.
Eventually we transitioned from working hard to working smart. I read Rich Dad, Poor Dad (which stresses the importance of creating assets which keep giving, rather than working for a salary, which gets spent up and needs to be re-earned). And The Lazy Man’s Guide to Riches which stresses that the way to work smart in business is to leverage your time, your money, your talents, or your products (create books or iPads which sell millions of times over through third parties, rather than sell thousands of Apple’s iPads…)
So I decided to found a publishing company and publish the best of the antiquarian books I was selling. Okay, founding business #2, while running business #1=exhaustion. I would talkabout my life, and cry, like a silly weepy woman, which I then was.
My predominant thought in the maelstrom of the complexities of publishing was, “I just want life to be easier” though I knew it should be “I just want Jesus.” That was the greatest period of stress I’ve ever known–financial stress, work stress, and health stress, since my immune system unhelpfully buckled, and I developed a stress-related illness, now cured. It’s given me a great understanding and sympathy for other people in financial stress.
* * *
Yes, yes, it’s getting high time for this dire tale to have a fairy tale ending, and thankfully it does. 15 months into publishing, we got our break with an author which did well, and we paid off our business loan, and were well into profit.
We thought we would stop publishing and go back to Math and writing, but in early 2009, a hugely popular BBC serial, The Victorian Farm kept mentioning a poetic, long out of print Victorian Farming manual called The Book of the Farm. I read that every second-hand copy available was snapped up even as the credits rolled on the first evening.
Roy said, “Let’s publish it.” I said, “But we have retired from publishing. We are going to be a writer and a mathematician again. Remember?” Roy who, like me, is an entrepreneur at heart, said, “Let’s publish it!” And so we did.
Magical days! I had been praying for a conservatory since October. We were quoted £21,000 for a classy one. Didn’t have a penny extra, but still prayed faithfully. We published this three volume book in mid-Jan, sold hundreds, then thousands of copies, and signed a contract for that 30 square metre, sunny, four season longed-for conservatory in February. It is my favourite room, my proof that miracles do happen.

Irene’s (in red) 12th birthday party in our conservatory


It’s flower-filled here after my birthday party!

The business grew rapidly!! “It’s like being on a fast-moving train,” a friend who worked with us said. We got a group of 12 friends from church and Oxford to work with us, some full, some part time. And in July 2010, Roy at last retired from mathematics–obsessive, consuming work so incompatible with family life (so much like, err… err… serious writing!) and decided to run the company, and the home, and the children, and well, me, if he could! And I gradually stopped working in the business.
                                                      * * *
Taking up writing again was not easy. I had got out of the habit, had forgotten what was in my book.
I had “churts,” church-related hurts at church, which talking to other friends who’ve left (okay, not a reliable control group) was indeed toxic for them too. I had led three Bible studies there, and while leading one fell out my co-leader and the Rector’s wife, and was unfairly and sadistically untreated. The sadness and anger caused a kind of creative paralysis, and so, unable to start writing again, I mechanically went on working in the business and making money, past the point at which we needed it to pay bills.
The sadness of not using that one talent which is death to hide was affecting my health. My wonderful GP referred me to an NHS therapist who thought she could break the writers’ block in 5 sessions. In fact, it took 4.
I realized that the unforgiveness over the way I was unjustly and cruelly treated was creating a block in my creativity and my spiritual life and my happiness, I went through the hard work of forgiving and asking blessing on those who harmed me.  And the streams of creativity began flowing again
* * *
On a walk on a beach in Royan, France, I felt God calling me to blog, and I have always felt God’s blessing on it, though I don’t know what he is going to do with it.
And, not fully aware of how many people in that church were following my blog through our facebook friendships, I wrote a series of satires on church leaders who are ambitious, cynical, manipulative, ego-driven, neurotic, insecure, concerned with growth over shepherding. It was called “The Screwtape Lectures,” and Screwtape advises his acolytes to do the very things I had observed.
“You are saying we run the church as the Devil would advise?” the priest asked me in shock. Well, actually, Screwtape was (and satire needs exaggeration to work). I am told not to blog about the church if I want to stay, even in the form of allegory!!
And so three years after I should have made that decision, I decide to leave.  A vicar I know through blogging wrote to me, “à la Elijah, ‘You’re likely to starve there. Time to move on to somewhere safe.’
I moved to a normal healthy church, St. Andrew’s, Oxford .
I found a lovely supportive group of kind, intelligent, educated,  successful women, a group I am now co-leading. I felt happy in both this group and our couples’ group. And desperately wished I had left that unhappy toxic church three years earlier. Though I do believe in the value of desert experiences, and being in the wrong place at the right time.
Who is this who comes out of the desert leaning on her beloved? (Song of Songs 8:5).  My desert experience in that chaotic, badly run Charismatic church deepened my relationship with Christ. I spent more time with him in the anonymous quietness of the desert, and got to know him and hear his voice far more clearly.
Challenges ahead: Creatively, to learn to combine blogging and literary writing. Physically: by exercise and healthy eating to recover the physical health which has been compromised over several sedentary, stressful years. Emotionally and spiritually, I am happy after several turbulent years, and for that I am grateful!!

Incredible, Edible Todmorden: The Yorkshire Town in which you can pick your five a day on your walks (A Guest Post by Joanna Dobson)

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Incredible Edible Todmorden

The first time I arrived in the west Yorkshire town of Todmorden, I saw something rather remarkable on the station platform. Planters full of herbs. And, sticking out of the compost, a little sign saying ‘help yourself’.


The idea is that commuters on their way home from work can pick just what they need to finish off a delicious meal. The sign also suggests that if you are just hanging around waiting for a train, you could perhaps do a spot of weeding.
Those planters are still there today, and if you take a walk round the town in the growing season, you will see more and more evidence of this innovative approach to growing. There are runner beans in the cemetery, tomatoes along the canal path and broccoli stems at the bus stop. You can pick your five a day from the fruit trees outside the health centre, or pop round the back to find some more herbs in the apothecary’s garden.
Even the local bobbies are in on the act. The raised beds outside the police station boast some splendid sweetcorn, along with many other fine crops. And no, they won’t arrest you if you take some; they’d actually rather like it if you did.

Planters with sweet corn and other vegetables outside the police station in  Todmorden.

This simple but radical action of growing food in public places for everyone to share is transforming Todmorden. It began when two local women, Mary Clear and Pam Warhurst, became convinced that a food crisis was looming – one that would directly affect their children and grandchildren.
They were determined to take action but suspected words like ‘peak oil’ and ‘transition’ would make people switch off rather than get involved. On the other hand, everyone is interested in food. Food could be the catalyst that got people thinking about what they could grow and what that meant for their whole environment.
So Mary did something drastic. She knocked down the wall that separated her garden from the street. The garden was full of roses, a passion of hers, but, as she likes to point out, ‘you can’t make jam from roses’. So she dug up the flowers and her husband Fred built some raised beds instead. They planted salads and herbs, fruit trees and vegetables.  And they put up a sign saying ‘Help Yourself’.
That got people talking. Mysteriously, more and more vegetables began to spring up around the town. Propaganda planting was taking off. 
Eventually, a public meeting was held and the volunteer movement that is Incredible Edible Todmorden  was born. Now every primary school in the town is growing some kind of food, and the secondary school not only has a vast polytunnel overflowing with organic veg for the school dinners, it’s even building a fish farm with a grant from the lottery. 
There are cookery courses for everyone, a campaign to make ‘every egg a local egg’, and another to encourage more beekeeping. Farmers are reporting an increase in sales and have been inspired to create new products such as cheeses, and sausages from rare breed pork. Recently, volunteers transformed a large piece of donated land into a centre to train people in the skills of sustainable food production. There are also plans for an edible ‘green route’ through the town.
Of course I only ever go to Todmorden as a visitor and cannot know the inevitable tensions and difficulties that arise when a change of this nature is underway. But the evidence that this is working is everywhere, from the children who no longer think carrots come in plastic trays to the social housing tenants who are opening their homes to be used for cookery classes.
Incredible Edible Todmorden emphatically does not fly under any religious banner. However, as a Christian, I find it challenges my faith. I see the transformation that began when someone was prepared to give up their rights to their own garden produce for the good of the whole town and I ask myself whether I would have the courage to do the same. I fear the answer is no, despite the fact that the Bible is bursting with instances of God urging his people to be generous with what they have, and especially their land.
I also think that IET’s attitude to growing is prophetic – and by that I mean that it’s a clear demonstration of a right approach to stewarding land (which is not the same as saying that they have all the answers). Many of us Christians have been very slow to grasp the urgency of the environmental crisis that faces the world, let alone take any action. In Todmorden I see a group of people who are not prepared to sit back and let things go from bad to worse, leaving their grandchildren to cope with the consequences.
What should this say to those of us who claim to worship the One who created the environment in the first place? 

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Joanna Dobson

Joanna Dobson is a mature student, writer-in training and mother of three who lives with her husband Julian in the wonderful city of Sheffield. Aside from books and her family, she loves walking, knitting and growing things and is always looking for ways to live more sustainably. She blogs at http://joannadobson.wordpress.com/