American poet William Stafford offers this advice: “There is no such thing as writer’s block for writers whose standards are low enough.”

We sat through one of the very worst sermons in 5.5 years last Sunday evening. Fortunately, it was not by the regular clergy, though I was a bit cross that with 3 preaching pastors, not to mention several others on staff, none of the full-time clergy could have stepped up to the plate.

The person who took the sermon was a student from the famous local vicar-factory, who will soon be a curate. His passage was the famous one on faith and works from James.
I have to admit the guy irritated me by his delivery–blazing eyes, nose wrinkled in disgust, cold disgusted eyes sweeping the congregation as if he were a modern day Savonarola.

He kept indicting the congregation as “Christian hypocrites” without any concrete suggestions on how we can tackle the endless sea of possible good works within the limitations of time, energy, resources, and other duties each of us have.

Indictment, criticism, condemnation. Continued for well over the allotted time. I could feel the joy in the congregation leach out.

I was reminded again of what I recently learnt. Satan, diabolus in Greek, means accuser, slanderer. The Holy Spirit is the advocate, the comforter, the consoler, the one who speaks for you.

So I tried not to listen to the sermon too hard, or get too annoyed at his delivery. I did not sense the Holy Spirit, nor the love of Jesus for people.

But how does one give a good sermon on a subject on which it is inevitable that there will be a gap between the congregation’s life and ideals.

Self-examination and repentance.

Ask, “Does my life mirror my faith? If not, in what way? What can I do about it?”

Then you come in humility and repentance, as a sinner among sinners, sharing what you have learnt from your sins and failures, and how you hope to do better.

And because it is simple, concrete and practical, your hearers may well get more take-away value than from a tirade.

This was something I learned from Paul Miller’s Love Course. Use your annoyance with other people as a trigger to repentance. How do I do the same thing which so annoys me in you? How can I repent of it? Then you yourself are better and stronger and different–even if the other person is unchanged.

Which I will now proceed to do!!

 Be of good cheer. Do not think of to-day’s failures, but of the success that may come to-morrow. You have set yourselves a difficult task, but you will succeed if you persevere, and you will find a joy in overcoming obstacles–a delight in climbing rugged paths, which you would perhaps never know if you did not sometime slip backward–if the road was always smooth and pleasant. Remember, no effort that we make to attain something beautiful is ever lost. Sometime, somewhere, somehow we shall find that which we seek. 

Journaling, slowing down, observing, and describing what you observe is one way to slow down and return to writing after a period of extroversion. Get words flowing within you once again.

The John Arnott conference last week spent a lot of time on the Fatherhood of God, something I believe cognitively rather more than emotionally. Yet, I know that it has an absolutely transformative effect on individuals who understand and believe it.

They asked us to imagine a really beautiful baby in the arms of a doting Father. That is how God sees you, they said.

They also read out this rather cheesy, but somewhat sweet piece of writing,
“If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it. He sends you flowers every spring, and a sunrise every morning. He could live anywhere in the universe, and he chose your heart.”

Self-publishing is the way ahead for a self-critical, perfectionistic writer like me. Write something I am pleased with, the best I can currently achieve, good according to my own taste, get it into print. Worry about an agent and editor after it is in print.

I love to be  in my our conservatory, reading, writing and thinking–or even trying to– alone. It’s a lovely, floaty feeling. It’s so peaceful. How I love solitude! (At times!)