Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

Anita’s Superlatives: I am Travelling, Museuming, Reading, Going Vegan

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View from the Chemin de la Corniche (Luxembourg)

I’ve had an amazing week. And here are some superlatives.

Travel–Enjoyed a week at His Place, in Saarland, Germany run by the loving German Community Without Walls. A beautiful, restful and warm place with delicious healthy food. Loved it.

Luxembourg—Luxembourg City is gorgeous, and literally on a gorge. Enjoyed the staggering views, and the buildings built on a rock. I could have spent a couple more days there, just wandering around… Next time.

Wayne Negrini—Greatly enjoyed the hyper-energetic, larger-than-life, warm-hearted wise founder of the Community Without Walls, who spent several hours talking to us over a couple of evenings. He is as knowledgeable about natural health and healing as about the things of the Spirit.

And ladies and gentlemen, I intend to gradually educate myself about the former as much as the latter

The Eat to Live Programme—Part of my problem with weight loss is that I could never hear clearly from God as to what diet to follow. And I guess I needed to repent of and renounce seeking comfort or stress-relief or highs in food rather than God.

Well, I have done that, so was in a right place when Wayne suggested the Eat to Live programme by John Fuhrman M.D.  lending us some videos on it. It’s a low-carb vegan diet. I have been vegetarian before, for long periods of time, but never low-carb vegetarian, and never vegan.

But this diet (unlimited fruits, vegetables, beans, legumes, and limited nuts and seeds) is doing wonders for me so far. Some weight lost easily, and I find I need remarkably less sleep, my mind is clearer, and my ability to think and concentrate is vastly increased.

Zoe and Roy who both independently wanted to go vegetarian are on it too. Irene burst into tears at the thought of it, as she loves meat and dairy, but so far, she’s enjoying the creative vegetarian food, and  we’ve told her to eat up on meat and diary at her school lunches!

Pre-Raphaelites at the Tate—A glorious exhibition, including many paintings from private collections.

Best Blog Post I’ve Read This Week.

Loved this post by Glennon Melton in which her husband tells her The News, and she’s suddenly a single mom. My philosophy of blogging is a little like hers, but being American and Californian, she goes much further in openness, honesty and self-revelation.

Glennon says: A life well lived is one lived in the light.  I learned long ago that living a secret life doesn’t work for me. To be healthy and sane —to feel safe—I have to live out loud. There is a saying in recovery: we are sick as our secrets. I refuse to be sick again. So I have to share my truth with you. 

“I only know as much of myself as I have the courage to reveal to you,”  John Powell wrote. The best  blogs I think come out of a relentless pushing towards honesty and truthfulness.

Best passage from an audiobook

We listened to “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” on our way back from Germany. Loved this description of how sanctification works.

The selfish Eustace is turned into a dragon, his animagus or daemon. Then Aslan, the Christ-Lion leads him to a well.

The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. But the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don’t know if he said any words out loud or not.

“I was just going to say that I couldn’t undress because I hadn’t any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that’s what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.

“But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that’s all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I’ll have to get out of it too. So 1 scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.

“Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.

“Then the lion said” – but I don’t know if it spoke – “You will have to let me undress you.” I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.

“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.


“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on – and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again.’

I am in a mid-life process of revising my daily life, schedule, work habits and rhythms, and making them more beautiful, more godly, more monastic if you like.

Some things I can sort of do on my own—put on Rescue Time or Antisocial to avoid internet distraction when I write; wake earlier; exercise; tidy up.

For some things, like eating when stressed or sad or bored or frustrated, a habit I formed decades ago, I need help.

And sometimes, the help Aslan/Jesus gives can hurt at first, but then, it feels so good.

When the Risky Word of the Lord Came to the Lonely Prophets

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Elisha and Joash (William Dyce)

I am listening to the Bible in a year while walking country trails.  Listening to a whole book in a long walk or two, helps me see “the big picture” of Scripture and its themes.

The Prophets have grabbed me. You just don’t mess with those Prophets, because God is with them.

And yet, it’s a lonely vocation. They are second-guessed, feared, hated, threatened like Elijah, or beaten up and imprisoned like Jeremiah. On the edge of society–menaces, who say what is terribly unpopular, and terribly true.

Their single strength—this mysterious thing that keeps happening to them: And the word of the Lord came to Jeremiah… or Isaiah… or Elijah.

And they have heard that Word before, and it has never let them down. They recognise it from long experience, and so they trust it.

Even when no one else does.

How can they convince anyone else of this essentially private revelation? They can’t. They are ultimately believed because of all the other times the words they heard (or overheard, Is. 6:8) and repeated were absolutely true.

* * *

Some reformed bloggers submit their blogs to pastoral oversight or to a committee.

There was no way the prophets could have done this. Their committee would have said, “Don’t say that—the King won’t like it; the priests won’t like it. The people won’t like. The army won’t like it. X, Y, and Z will think you mean them, and be hurt. And ‘fess up, you do mean them, don’t you?

Why should we trust you a layman rather than the professional priesthood? God has never said that before.  It’s too weird. Too impossible. Are you sure you heard the Lord say this?”

* * *

The advantages of a committee of trusted readers: One does not want to reinvent the wheel theologically—to write with dewy-eyed naivete on a subject on which thought has evolved far beyond your first wonderings. And one doesn’t want to write a blog post asserting something which is simply stupid, or factually or theologically incorrect, which an astute reader can instantly point out.

However, Theology-by-committee will give you safe, don’t-rock-the-boat theology. It probably will not be able to capture where the wind of the spirit is blowing.

Throughout Scripture, when God speaks to men, he generally speaks to individuals, not groups.

The prophets could never, would never have submitted the Word of the Lord to other people’s judgements. Just as well, because the words were so strange, so risky, so unverifiable, that few would have approved them. They had a direct, unmediated relationship with God.

* * *

Throughout Church history, dominant theologies have been quite simply wrong, though backed up with proof texts and Scripture verses.

As Brian McLaren writes, the Western church had been wrong on slavery, wrong on colonialism, wrong on environmental plunder, wrong on subordinating women, wrong on segregation and apartheid (all of which it justified biblically) and wrong on homosexuality.

John Piper, the influential Reformed writer, writes extremely honestly of his racist past, “ I was, in those years, manifestly racist.” 

At the great Urbana Missions Conference in December 1967, Piper writes, “Warren Webster, missionary to Pakistan, answered a student’s question: What if your daughter falls in love with a Pakistani while you’re on the mission field and wants to marry him?


The question was clearly asked from a standpoint that this would be a racial or ethnic dilemma for Webster. (This was four months before Martin Luther King Jr. was killed.) With great forcefulness, Webster said something like: “Better a Christian Pakistani than a godless white American!”

 From that moment, I knew I had a lot of homework to do.

The perceived wrongness of interracial marriage had been for me one of the unshakeable reasons why segregation was right.”

* * *

I was fascinated and appalled by Piper’s humble, honest and contrite essay on his racist past, racism which he and other Christians in the American South (Christian and theological colleges in the South did not accept blacks) backed up with Scripture verses.

Wow, powerful theologians can honestly believe things, and back them up with scripture—and they can be wrong!!

That’s why it’s important to return to the spring of living waters, to the quietness of God’s presence in his throne room, and hear what He is saying for yourself.

* * *

There are dangers to this, of course. Yeah, private pipelines to God could lead to weirdness and evil like David Koresh, Jim Jones and the Guyana suicides, and the Twelve Tribes, a repressive, economically exploitative, weird cult which uses child labour, and requires long working hours, 80-100 hours weekly, of its members, while its leaders lead plush, privileged lives. (My brother-in-law, Dr. David Mathias, a medical doctor, joined them in 1992, and has worked at both medical and manual work from early in the morning till (often) past midnight for twenty years, contributing all his earnings to the cult–and leaders.)

So how does one keep hearing the word of God, without either falling into the weirdness of cults like Twelve Tribes, or accepting airless, airtight theologies without the wind of the Holy Spirit?

* * *

I suppose the way the prophets did? Though the word of the Lord came to them in solitude, it was never for them alone.

The word of the Lord always led them to the King, to the council, to the community, where they were reviled by the many, and revered by the few.

And then, the final test: God validates them. Things turns out just as they predicted. And so people begin to believe them when they say, “Thus says the Lord.”

* * *

It’s interesting, isn’t it, that in Scripture, God rarely speaks to groups or committees (there are some exceptions in Acts). He speaks to individuals, giving them words of enough force and power, ratified by events, for them to influence the crowd.

Moses, Elijah, Jeremiah. Nobody would have had the heart to encourage them on their dangerous paths. Or would have had the heart to take on the responsibility of encouraging them in their risky prophecies. They just had to go it alone.

And though it was a lonely job, and we see Elijah and Jeremiah grow emotionally overwhelmed and skirt the edges of depression and burn-out, the word of the Lord was never for them alone but also for their community. And in the community, though often rejected and beaten up, they found sanity, grounding, and even, occasionally, comfort and friendship.

 

We Need Scripture to Help us Make Decisions. But we need the Spirit too. We need Jesus

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Christ Disputing with the pharisees (Jacob Jordaens)

 Beyond the sacred page I seek Thee, Lord;

My spirit pants for Thee, O living Word!

                                                          Mary Lathbury, 1877

 39 You study[c]the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, 40 yet you refuse to come to me to have life, (John 5:39) Jesus says to the Pharisees.

Sad and scary words? All that diligent study of Scripture, and yet they did not recognise Jesus as the Christ.

* * *

I have been ScriptureGirl for most of my Christian life.

But I no longer play Scripture roulette. You know: Don’t know what to do—treasure-hunt a Scripture verse to guide you. Find one with relief.  Rely on the letter more than the spirit.

As a younger Christian, when stumped in decision-making, I searched for Scripture verses. For instance, we were about to buy our second house in a private sale from our landlord, and pay cash, as we had for our first. The seller was difficult and each time we were closer to exchanging contracts came up with a fresh contractual change. I got so stressed that I refused to sign the day before the sale was to go through. (Now, who was I calling difficult?)

Why? This scripture verse kept running through my head.   But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peaceful, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere (James 3:17). There was no peace throughout the process, just stress, contention and suspicion. We got a house that cost twice the amount, in a posher neighbourhood, and got a mortgage, of course.

It probably worked out okay, but today, I would seek the face of Jesus, and to hear his voice, and not rely on a single verse of Scripture in spiritual decision making.

***

Other examples: sometimes, Roy might make what I consider a foolish decision. I might demur a bit, but sometimes run out of energy, and say to myself, “Wives, submit to your husbands (Eph. 5:22).” Ah, I can take the path of least resistance, and have a scripture verse to cover my back.

And sometimes, his decisions work out well, and sometimes they most certainly do not.

Today, I wouldn’t rest on a single verse as a cop-out. I would seek Jesus’ face instead and his guidance on whether I should gently pursue the bone of contention, or drop it.

***

I seek the Scriptures for wisdom and guidance, of course, but they are a single element in my decision making, along with seeking to hear the Spirit, and seek the face of Christ.

We do not worship the Bible; we worship Christ. We need the Spirit to help us interpret the word. We need the Living Christ to guide us.

Okay, another example. For the last seven weeks, I have worked hard, Monday to Saturday. I have written my memoir, about 800 words a day, publishing it on my blog, and I have written and published a blog post, about 800-1200 words. I have been running, up to 7000 steps a day. I have been reading. I have been disciplined. And by Sunday, I am shattered.

Sunday dawns, bright and clear. The sun shines. God is in his heaven, and all is lovely in his world. Do I obey the Biblical directive to rest? Sleep in, have a long nap. And heaven knows, my body needs it. Should I worship God today in the cathedral of the bird-loud open fields as I walk and pray instead of in a stained-glass-shady church?

Or do I obey the Scriptural directive to “forsake not assembling together,” and drag my groggy self—sluggish mind, sluggish body– to church, when I know I would be more energized by a run, and a nap, and praying in solitude.

If I were playing Scripture roulette, running my life by the written word, I would say, “Forsake not assembling together,” and drag my tired self to church, sometimes get bored and restless and irritated, and sometimes, be blessed by the music, and the atmosphere, and the quiet presence of a few hundred people worshipping God.

But, ah middle age, wonderfully liberating time of life! I seek a person: Jesus, more than random scripture verses.  “So, what should be my game plan for today, Jesus? Should I be restored by going to church, worshipping in community, and be possibly inspired, and possibly bored by the sermon? Or should I nap, garden, pray, run, watch a movie, read, relax at home, minister to myself through prayer and scripture and worship music, and reach Monday bouncing?”

I do worship best in community. But of late, I have sensed Jesus giving me this wonderful, cherished permission slip to really rest. (Though I sense this is a very short-term permission slip!!)

So that’s how I increasingly make decisions. No more picking out Proverbs and verses. Instead, I sit quiet before Jesus, try to “see” him, try to hear his voice, and sense which way the wind of spirit is blowing.

* * *

Will this lead to what some evangelicals fear as the great folly of “the Jesus I know?” You know, where you suspect that Jesus would be full of mercy and compassion towards all those called to ministry, both men and women, gay and straight,  because Jesus in the flesh was full of mercy and compassion towards everyone, except those who were judgemental and self-righteous.

“The Jesus I know.”  Does it make sense? Why, yes, of course. That’s the only Jesus we can know—through a mixture of  study of scripture in which he is revealed; and through the Holy Spirit who continued to reveal Him (“He will teach you all things, and make known to you everything I have commanded you,” John 14:26) and through prayer, talking and listening to the Living Christ, who makes his home within us (John 14:23). How foolish it would be to accept the Jesus someone else knows, rather than the Jesus we ourselves know.

No two people had the same relationship with Christ. He berated the Pharisees for their pride and obsession with reputation, but offered understanding and acceptance to the shamed woman at the well, or the woman caught in adultery or “the woman who had led a sinful life.” Naturally each of these knew a different Jesus.

How foolish it would have tell the demoniac whom Jesus instructed “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you,” Mark 5: 19 to obey Jesus’s directive to the rich young ruler, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” Jesus said different things to each of them.

* * *

 The church has always had dominant, vocal groups who soapbox about the Jesus they know, and the theology they have concocted, and bully, shame and silence the rest with their proof texts to accept their Jesus. A Jesus who thinks exactly as they do on all the hot button issues of the day, and is, for instance, complementarian, not egalitarian; who is anti-women -bishops and anti-gay marriage, but pro-life, pro-guns and pro-death penalty.

It is neither intellectually, spiritually nor psychologically safe to accept the Jesus someone else knows. We just have to do the difficult, time-consuming work of searching the Scriptures for ourselves, praying, and seeking Jesus.

Will we get things wrong in this process? Yes, probably. Possibly inevitably.

Will Jesus hold these things against us? No.

Stupidity is not a sin. Laziness and spiritual indifference which seeks acceptance by the dominant group by accepting other people’s theologies without searching the Scriptures or seeking Jesus and his Spirit for ourselves—these, on the other hand, would not impress Christ.

* * *

How scary it would have been to accept the Scriptural readings of the experts, the learned scribes and Pharisees who had spent their lives studying the Scriptures–and, as a result, totally not recognize the real incarnated Jesus.

We can risk that if we accept the dominant theology or theological-political discourse whether it is about hell or homosexuals, abortion or women when it lacks the mercy and compassion, the fresh grace, fresh fire, and fresh astonishment which characterized Jesus.

Return to the Scriptures, search them for yourself, ask Jesus to reveal himself to you, convict you, jail-break you, turn you upside down, fill you with the joy He came to give you, and which so often goes missing in action when we accept other people’s strait-jacketed, straight-faced, straight-laced Jesus.

Oh, but I want the real one–the wild-eyed, astonishing, scary, uncompromising, flexible, brilliant man who walks through the Gospels, and steps off their pages into my life.

Oh, just give me Jesus.

 

 

 

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

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Children
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, 14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me.” (Phil 3 13-14).

 

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

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Waterfall Over Rocks  
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. 10 Fishermen will stand along the shore; The fish will be of many kinds
·      * *
12 Fruit 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.


Why I go to Charismatic Festivals

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Georgian Bainov with his fiddle
Photo: Better photo of Heidi dancing here :)
Heidi Baker dancing in the River of God before her talk

I no longer attend a Charismatic church, but do occasionally go to Charismatic meeting or conferences. I’ve been to three this year, to RiverCamp, Revival Alliance and to listen to Patricia Bootsma, leader of Toronto church made famous by the Toronto Blessing.
A blog commentator seemed bemused as to why I do go. I am reasonably careful and intentional about my use of time—certainly lead an examined life!–so obviously wouldn’t go without good reason, but it’s good to try to verbalise the reasons.
1) Ah, this is perhaps the biggest reason: Worship.
 Sometimes, one’s spiritual life can get mind-centred, or me-centred. You know, praying about one’s concerns, praying for guidance, learning about God from the Bible, reading about the spiritual life. It is ME seeking God.
What setting aside a few days to worship God in community gives me is the experience of worship. Forgetting self, forgetting all the restless thoughts of a restless mind, forgetting everything, just submerging myself in the sea of God. Oh, how lovely that is, to forget self, leave self behind, and soak in the sea of God.
Oh, I love it, love worship, but worship is the weakest link in my spiritual life. I am not very good at it alone at home—simply because I have not practised enough. My mind takes over and talks to God. I tend to pause the worship music and meditate on the lyrics. But in the company of hundreds of others, I am carried away by the music, by the lack of distractions, by the fact that I can’t really escape from the room or pause the music–and oh, I worship God, and I find that my soul was craving for it!!

We are made for worship, that is what we will be doing in heaven, and, so worship fulfils a need of even the most cerebral soul.


2) People like Heidi Baker, John Arnott and Bill Johnson have a deeper faith and knowledge of God than I do. They write and speak well. So in listening to them, I see a high water mark of the joy, faith and miracles which, to my way of thinking are part of “the normal Christian life.” I realize there’s so much more. I want to strive for it.

2) My work–writing!!–is very intense, and so am I. I cannot go on writing for long weeks without a break. I could go to Europe, and do so, several times a year. So far in 2012, I’ve been on three trips to Istanbul, Ireland and Copenhagen, and to three Christian conferences.

I found both stimulating and very interesting, but the latter will have a far greater influence on the course of my life than the former. The latter have brought me more joy, and, more importantly for me, wisdom and direction.
I wouldn’t want to only go to retreats and conferences, but sometimes there is an emptiness in hedonistic travel, and I crave quietness, wisdom, and God. Ideally, I would construct holidays with time to seek God, as well as to explore.

3) I do pray most every day, but at home, I am mainly reading, writing and blogging. I am not setting aside long hours to seek God’s face, to seek his direction. At retreats and spiritual conferences, that’s all I do!

So I sometimes get direction for the year ahead, as when I received clear direction that it was time to return to writing and to wrap up my memoir in the course of the next 12 months.
This has only happened once, but we receiveda prophetic word which significantly changed my daughter Zoe’s confidence, emotional state, and sense of call and direction.
If a life is a work of art, always in flux, in spending time with God, I receive fresh direction; good ideas; ideas for tweaks to blogging, daily routines, financial practices etc; encouragement, guidance, and new inspiration. And occasionally a sentence or two or a clear direction from God.
If one thinks of time as a raw material, a resource, then investing your time, and more importantly, your whole will and spirit and soul into seeking God and God’s guidance is a great investment.

4 “Better is one day in your house than a 1000 elsewhere.”

Well, is it true, or isn’t it true? If it’s true, why not act accordingly?

I guess by choosing to spend days in praise and worship and listening to Bible talks from those far deeper in the holy river of God, I am making this choice: that a day in God’s house is better than a thousand elsewhere.
6 It’s a great experience for children to spend time thinking of spiritual things, and to develop a depth to their own spiritual lives. Being young, being impressionable, they have had spiritual experiences, like being slain in the spirit, which I have not had.
7 My theology on this is borrowed. However, I first received the Holy Spirit and the gift of tongues when someone prayed for me to. I experientially know that I am more likely to be touched and refilled with the Spirit when someone deeper in the River prays for me to, or when I spend a long time in God’s presence seeking this. And being filled to overflowing with God’s spirit is a prize well worth seeking!!

 I have two retreats planned, one in Germany, one in Wales, which will combine a rest, long walks, some exploration, and much time resting, learning and being strengthened in the holy river of God.


Revivals, Chalk Circles and Me

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I have heard of the English Evangelical Revival when at the preaching of Whitfield, miners wept, their tears making white lines on their coal-black faces.

I have heard of the 1904 revival in Wales, when the Spirit of God fell powerfully on meetings, and people forgave their enemies.

I have heard of the revival Lonnie Frisbee brought to the Vineyard, with thousands of youth spirit-filled in a day, baptizing their mates in hot-tubs and swimming pools.

I have heard of the laughing revival in Toronto.

I have heard it reached Oxford, and students walking down High Street or having tea with friends in student rooms suddenly fell silent, stooped under the heavy weight of God.

I have heard that there have been more revivals in England than in any nation on earth!

§ § §

Me? I have never seen a revival. Never seen the spirit fall en masse as at Pentecost.

But I would like to.

All the prophetic people are talking of a revival coming to the UK. I heard Heidi Baker say, “Revival is coming to the UK. Of course, it is. You know that, don’t you?  Everyone knows that.

§ § §

Ah, my eyes want to see the glory of the coming of the Lord.

                                                                                                                         § § §

Gypsy Smith, the British 20th century evangelist, preached to audiences of hundreds of thousands.

A delegation came to ask him how they could experience mass revival as he had.

And this was his reply, “Go home. Lock yourself in your room. Kneel down in the middle of the floor, and with a piece of chalk draw a circle around yourself. There, on your knees, pray fervently and brokenly that God would start a revival within that chalk circle.”

§ § §

And that is how revival will come to the UK.

When there are thousands of chalk circles drawn through this land. When thousands of people pray within them to be filled to overflowing with the spirit of God, the prayer which is always answered (Luke 11:13).

When the Spirit descends on thousands of people with power, and blows through this land like a mighty wind, sweeping through it like an overflowing stream.

I hear the winds, Lord, gaining power. I hear the first sounds of a heavy rain.

May my eyes see this glory of a great revival, oh Lord. And let it begin in me.

Praying in African

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And here’s my funniest moment from River Camp, the Pentecostal Family Camp I’m hanging out at.

  Irene, praying in baby language!

Irene was lying on the floor, trying “soaking prayer” with the adults for the first time ever. A lady came and prayed with her, she said. “First she prayed in English, and then she prayed in African,” said, Irene, 13.

“In African? Was she black?” I asked. “No, blonde,” she said.

I laughed. She was probably speaking in tongues.

We attended a Charismatic church (St. Aldate’s, Oxford) for 6 years, but since Irene went to children’s church, I guess she’s never heard glossolalia, or speaking in tongues, a gift I received when i was 17.

Which, incidentally, can sound beautiful, and exotic. I fancy it sounds like Persian!!