Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

Narrow Gates and Dark Sluggish Nights

By

 Product Details

I have not been particularly happy, spiritually, for the last couple of weeks, and I am not sure why.
I suppose as with weight gain (which, yay, I am tackling, having lost 6.5 pounds) or depression, there are a complex of reasons.
I blew it with a sweet lady who was working with us, and wrote a hurtful email. I took long to repent because I honestly could not see how else I could have reacted. And then I did see. I could have reacted in humility, and not in pride. Explain how things were making me feel rather than going on the attack.
Ah, not repenting. The heart becomes a stone. I remember a mentor saying that she got fed up of apologizing to her husband, and decided to stop apologising. And her heart become hard and cold.
And then, I am trying deferring–“submit to one another out of reverence to Christ,”–in a church relationship, which is new and unaccustomed behaviour for me. I guess I will just have to pray my way through this.
* * *
 Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. Matthew 7:13
What are these narrow gates into the Holy of Holies, into the presence of God?
Perhaps we each have our own. Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts says her way of entering in was always giving thanks. Hmm.  I have occasionally thanked God, while swimming, for everything lovely in the universe that I could think of, and got myself into an ecstatic state. But thanksgiving hasn’t been my gate, though I need to practise entering his gates with thanksgiving in my heart, entering his courts with praise.
* * *
My gates are murder. And they usually work.
One is absolute surrender, the title of Andrew Murray’s brilliant book. Oh gosh, just the phrase makes me squirm, I am so far from it.
But God is merciful, and a master builder.  A builder  works methodically, beginning with firm foundations, and basement, working upwards, ending with the fancy, finishing touches. One thing at a time, and the most important first, generally: digging deep, laying firm foundations.
So fortunately, when I say, “My life is yours, have your own way,” it’s just a single thing which goes. He reminds me to spend more time with the children. Or reminds me that my blog is his; that my fitness efforts are his; that the group I am leading is his. That my writing is his. That I should give in on some petty issue on which Roy and I are waging war. Stop stressing, stop worrying, hand it over. Let him work.
Repentance is another narrow gate we have to wriggle and squirm through to enter into life. Again, one of God’s outstanding traits is his mercy. We don’t need to go through our lives with a lice comb to find what to repent of. We generally know. It could well be our area of current unease. For me, alas, it’s often a species of idolatry, getting over-obsessive about writing, or blogging or success or money, about other Gods before him.
Sometimes, the spiritual unease is simple estrangement. I haven’t read Scripture long or deeply for a while. I haven’t been immersed in those eternal salty seas. No wonder then, I gasp and pant like a beached whale longing for her native element.
Or I am running, in the way Jonah ingenuously says, “I am running away from the Lord.” No spectacular sin, really, just idolatry. Auto-pilot: wake up, read, blog, exercise, garden, hang out with family. Avoid getting face to face with Jesus, looking into the blazing eyes of him who dwells in the bush which blazes and is not consumed; avoid stepping onto his holy ground, for then I will have to bend, and remove my sandals, and who knows what He might say. The longer I drift pleasantly at sea, far away from him, the harder it is going to be to hear him send me off to Nineveh.
 Yes, these are my narrow gates for entering the Holy of Holies: repentance, surrender, read scripture, hang out with God. Stop running.
* * *
Are there short-cuts into the presence of God?
For me, listening to worship music of surrender and devotion awakens my sluggish, bored, grumbly, snarky heart and ushers me into holier realms. Matt Redman, Misty Edwards, Michael Card, Rich Mullins, Ernesto Rivera are some of my favourites. Or anything Celtic! Yeah, such joy in the spiritual life, I realize. Such joy! And I am missing it!

You know when you just simply get bored in your spiritual life. The monastics called it accidie. Spiritual sloth or sluggishness. Torpor. Though at a pinch, you can still talk the talk, while your heart says, “Shut up. Fraud.”


It scares me when that happens. I remember reading The Gospel of John around 2003-2004 and it was electrifying. I felt Jesus walked into my  bedroom, early each morning, in his majesty and radiance. He spoke to me though that Gospel. Oh how alive it was!


But I am reading it now, and the words which were like an electric shock then, leading me into worship, are not quite as alive. My mind decodes and translates the words. Jesus says “I am the light of the world; whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life,” and instead of worshipping, my mind says, “Okay, so I need not struggle about the balance of writing books and blogging. Or how to lose weight. Jesus is the light. And he will not let me walk in darkness. I will ask him what to do.”  Nothing wrong with that, but it sure doesn’t beat worship.


So then, what are we going to do with this Anita, and her cold, dry, dull distracted heart?


I know what I am going to do. And it is, like almost all my spiritual solutions, a monastic solution. Benedict thought of it first.


Lectio Divina. Spiritual Reading. I read books written by men and women who have dwelt far more deeply in the holy places of the Most High.


George Mueller. Hudson Taylor. Bill Johnson. John Piper. Frederick Buechner. John Eldredge. Simon Ponsonby’s “More”. “Joy Unspeakable,” by Martyn Lloyd-Jones. Dallas Willard. Richard Forster. Brother Lawrence. John Arnott. Oh, anything good about experiencing the Holy Spirit.


Ah!  See what I was missing. See the joy I was missing. My heart starts beating faster. Excitement floods me again.


I read how Frank Laubach lived in the presence of Jesus though his Game with Minutes. Goodness, so living in the presence of God is that simple? All we have to do is train ourselves to pray through the day.  I re-read the lovely books of my friend Paul Miller, Love Walked Among Us and A Praying Life, and my heart beats faster. I want to pray like that!


I browse through my spiritual bookshelves. The Filling of the Holy Spirit. Miracles. Grace, Forgiveness. Prophetic words for the ordinary woman—“all flesh.” Guidance in one’s work or writing. Discerning the will of God. Spiritual treasures: Rubies, diamonds, emeralds of joy and excitement. And here I am drearily reading Proverbs and Leviticus and they are not speaking to me.


I place my dry, distracted heart in the fire of these writers, and it is strangely warmed.


You have made my heart come alive again, dear spiritual writers, friends, forerunners on the Way. And for that, I thank you.


Yeah, indeed this is the way to live. As a child of the Father, hand in hand with Jesus, overflowing with the Holy Spirit, feasting on the bread of life. Allowing ancient vintners, the Trinity and other lovers of God to pour the bubbling wine of joy into my heart.  


And I am made new again!

“You can tell the depth of a man’s walk with God by looking at the countenance of his wife’s face,” Bill McCartney, Founder of Promise Keepers

By


You can tell the depth of a man’s walk with God by looking at the countenance of his wife’s face: Bill McCartney, Founder of Promise Keepers.

Bill McCartney was formerly the head football coach at the University of Colorado, and led his team to the national championship in 1990.
He said, “My last year as a coach was in 1994. My team was undefeated and was ranked third in the nation.
And then a visiting preacher said: ‘Do you want to know whether a man has character or not? All you have to do is look at his wife’s countenance, and everything that he’s invested or withheld will be in her face.’”
“I turned and looked at my wife, Lindi,” McCartney said. “I didn’t see splendor. I saw torment. I didn’t see contentment; I saw anguish. And I tried to defend myself, but I couldn’t. That’s really the reason I stepped out of coaching. I realized that before God I was a man without character.”
     * * *
When I attended a Presbyterian(PCA) Church in Williamsburg, Virginia, the men went off to Promise Keepers meetings on Saturdays. I, however, told Roy I would rather he stayed home and invested in the children and housekeeping than went off to a meeting which told him to do just that.
Roy and I were youngish Christians, and accepted a lot of what we heard uncritically. And so, for several years, when we wanted to assess if a man’s walk matched his talk, if private reality was the same as public projected image, if looking good was the same as being good, we looked at his wife’s countenance.
A face in repose, when it is unaware of being looked at, tells the truth. Bitterness, anguish, struggle, meanness, goodwill, prayer, gratitude—these repeated emotions carve expressions on a face as surely as glaciers carve river valleys. The unguarded expressions on a face tells the story of an inner life.
And so we began to notice, laughing at our private joke, many marriages “between the rich and the poor.” Where the man–pastor, apologist, evangelist, pastor, charity head–had the peace, and the wife had the pieces. Where he spoke lyrically, and her unguarded expression suggested she was keeping her act together with difficulty, that if she could do what she really wanted to do, she would place her head on her hands, and weep. Zombie expressions, hunted rabbit eyes, faces with strain carved into them: I saw these expressions on the wives of many men in ministry. Her Story. Meanwhile he spoke of the glories of the Lord.
What’s the old adage? HisStory was him walking on water. Her Story was total submersion, holding him up from beneath.
*  * *
You can tell the depth of a man’s walk with God by looking at the countenance of his wife’s face.
Many truths capable of being summarised in a sentence are, in fact, half-truths.
Women and men are, in fact, responsible for their own spiritual lives. While a loving spouse makes everything easier, as Christians we do get to choose our response.
We get to choose whether we will be thankful in all things, or not. Whether we will grow bitter or kind. Whether we will return good or evil, or not. Whether we will forgive, or not. Whether we will pray for the selfish over-ambitious spouse, or bemoan our lot. Whether we will contemplate Christ, or the unbearable strain of our lot. Whether we ourselves will be truthful and honest or get caught up in the charade of our spouse’s public image, even if it kills us. Whether we will choose pride or humility.
While perhaps our countenance might tell you a lot about our spouse and our marriage, God has given each of us the ability to choose our own holiness, and our own happiness, and the address at which we choose to live. Rooted and grounded in the love of Christ, or swayed by the shifting shadows of our day to day lot.
                                                                  * * *
Ruth Bell Graham, married to the most-travelled Christian leader of the century, maintained her own spiritual life, spiritual disciplines, and close relationship with Christ. Here she isruth bell graham

I read a painful biography called Man of Vision, Woman of Prayer by Marilee Dunker, daughter of Bob Pierce who founded World Vision. His single-minded, driven, globe-trotting ways caused the break-up of his marriage, much anguish to his spouse, and, she says, contributed to a daughter’s suicide.Portraits taken in the living room of Lorraine Pierce's home in Carlsbad, California. Photos taken for World Vision Magazine. North America - USA digital color horizontal

Two wives of similarly driven, ambitious Christian leaders. One becomes a happy and fruitful angel; one lands up separated, lonely and miserable.
Our husband cannot determine our countenances. We choose them–and they are the fruit of numerous small decisions. Be thankful. Or not. Be kind. Or not. Pray. Or not. Forgive. Or not. Love and bless and do good where we can. Or not.
                                                       * * *
 Well, when we were at Ffald-y-Brenin last month, Roy took refuge from the rigours of prayer by making home-made bread, and fancy roasts and stews, while praying. He was a bit of a Brother Lawrence. An old man came up to him, caressed him simultaneously on each cheek, and said, “Oh, what a happy face!”
I smiled. Off the hook.
And here am I. How’s Roy doing?
Irene and I. Notice the secret of Irene’s happiness in her fat little paw!

 

“Strengthen yourself in the Lord” by Bill Johnson: A guest post from Roy Mathias

By

 
(Guest post by Roy Mathias)
I read this book while at Ffald-y-Brenin. Here are some of the ideas–chapter by chapter.    Bill Johnson describes some of the methods he uses to strengthen his inner man – it is not an exhaustive list, just what he himself has found helpful.  These are some of the conscious ways in which he choose to respond when warning lights go on in  his life.
Frequently others will strengthen us, but there are times when we must do it for ourselves in order to mature.
David’s Secret
What made David so great?  David is remembered for his heart.  While the Israel, for the most part, interacted with the Lord through the Law and a system of ritual sacrifices, David, as a shepherd, had a direct relationship with the Lord, singing to the Lord, and relying on the Lord in battling lion and bear.  He was clearly different – his oldest brother Eliab brothers sensed this saying  “I know how conceited you are and how wicked your heart is” .
However, after being anointed King, he had to wait 10-13 years, mostly in testing circumstances, before being crowned king.  This further testing ensured that when he was king he would not stumble as seriously as Saul, whose public victories exposed his hidden faults.
Why the inner man?
The sin of biting the apple in the garden was preceded by the error of believing a lie.
“As a man thinks in his heart so he is”  (Pr 23:7) is an oft quoted expression, but it usually refers just to thoughts.  In Hebrew, the heart referred to the entirety of the inner man – mind, imagination, will, desires, emotions, memory, conscience, and so Johnson focussed on more than just the mind and intellect here.
Stay connected to your destiny
 Live aware of where you are going, not where you are.  Live aware of the unseen reality that God is both good and sovereign.
The frontlines of the fight is the safest place — we receive an umbrella of  grace — rather than taking up a defensive position, like the servant who buried his coin.
Disarming Hell Through Thanksgiving
Almost every Christian book, regardless of perspective, book has a chapter on the importance of thanksgiving. Why?
1.      “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”( 1 Thess 5:16-18)  Being thankful is the will of God.  But to be truly thankful, one must appreciate what one has – frequently Christians are not thankful for spiritual gifts, and even the mere fact of life.
2.      “Thanksgiving brings me into the presence of God where you sense His ability to do the impossible and sense of his love for and delight in me.  It is hard to stay depressed when I am filled with the awareness of this love and goodness of God around me.”
3.       Not giving thanks and praise leads to futility and spiritual darkness.   “ … they neither glorified Him, nor gave Him thanks, but became futile in their thoughts and their foolish minds were darkened.”    On the other hand, thanksgiving keeps us sane (seeing reality the way it is)  and alive (in contact with our source of life).
The Personal Breakthrough Moment – Praise
“Physical obedience brings spiritual breakthrough”. Our identity as believers is first as worshipers–ministering to the Lord.  Worship with the whole self, including the body, dancing, clapping, and making a joyful noise as in the Old Testament, and in celebrations the world over.
“It is not irresponsible to ignore problems around one, and even inside one, to give GOD praise.  We think that we can solve a problem by looking at it from every angle.  But this can consume our attention, and we end up focussing on the problem, not the Lord.”
Praise can bring one into a divine encounter.  Worship may be understood only by the worshiper and the Lord (c.f., the woman who poured expensive perfume on Jesus feet was criticised/judged by all.)
Bill Johnson closes the chapter with “I challenge you to take the time each day to look past the problems and needs around you long enough to give God an extravagant expression of praise and rejoicing”.
Releasing the Hidden Things
 How do we build ourselves up?  Ans: “But you, beloved, building yourselves up on your most hold faith, praying in the Holy Spirit.”  “He who speaks in a tongue edifies himself.”
Praying in the Spirit (i.e., in tongues for Bill Johnson)
  • Is powerful because  our spirits pray in  agreement with God
  • Invites the Spirit of understanding to enlighten the eyes of our understanding (esp. when we want to understand things in times of crisis and tragedy.)
  • Bypasses the intellect and activates our Spirit born faith (for faith does not come from the intellect)
  • Bypassing the intellect, allows us to pray when we lack understanding for how to pray.
Conclusion:  “As you learn how to ‘build yourself up on your most holy faith’ using this tool, a sign of growth will be that God will wean you away from expecting quick fixes, and you will find yourself in situations that just will not shift until you lean into His voice, hear what he is saying, and stand in faith to make that declaration over your life. … we learn that while getting answers to prayer is wonderful and important, hearing His voice in the intimacy of prayer is the true source of our strength.”
 Possessed by Promises
“Meditating on the Promises of God will strengthen you.”   We strengthen ourselves by remaining connected with identity and purpose.  But we only know our identity and purpose because God tells us what they are
 In general, meditate on the promises from the position of “Let it be to me according to your Word” when it is not clear how His word will be fulfilled.
In particular,  re-read portions of Scripture that have been quickened in your heart.  He says “If I feel heavy or discouraged, I’ll read these passages until I sense the reality of that dwelling place and can feel the promise burning in my heart again”.
Similarly, when mentally or spiritually bombarded, read Psalms, until you find “your heart cry in a Psalm”.  Then read that over and over and make it your prayer.
Life comes not from every word that has already been spoken, but from “every word that proceeds from the mouth of God”. (Note present tense.)   The Holy Spirit brings Scripture to life.  Don’t just gather information from Scripture–expect Scripture to speak to your spirit.  When you receive a personal word, record it.
(Biblical meditation fills the mind, and even the mouth, with truth.  Joshua 1:8, This book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall mediate it day and night.  Apparently the Hebrew word translated mediate can also be translated “mutter”.)
Keeping the Testimony
“Jesus perfectly represented God.  One of the primary truths He proved is that it is impossible to represent God accurately without demonstrations of power.   Miracles aren’t something only Jesus and a few highly anointed ministers can be expected to perform. “
Ps 78: 2-7   Tell of the Lord’s works –his power and wonders–that the next generation will know and believe
2 I will open my mouth with a parable;
   I will utter hidden things, things from of old—
3 things we have heard and known,
   things our ancestors have told us.
4 We will not hide them from their descendants;
   we will tell the next generation
the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD,
   his power, and the wonders he has done.
5 He decreed statutes for Jacob
   and established the law in Israel,
which he commanded our ancestors
   to teach their children,
6 so the next generation would know them,
   even the children yet to be born,
   and they in turn would tell their children.
7 Then they would put their trust in God
   and would not forget his deeds
   but would keep his commands.
However, the men of Ephraim, forgetting, lost their nerve in battle, and did not obey God’s law.
 9 The men of Ephraim, though armed with bows,
   turned back on the day of battle;
10 they did not keep God’s covenant
   and refused to live by his law.
11 They forgot what he had done,
   the wonders he had shown them.
12 He did miracles in the sight of their ancestors
   in the land of Egypt, in the region of Zoan.
13 He divided the sea and led them through;
   he made the water stand up like a wall.
14 He guided them with the cloud by day
   and with light from the fire all night.
15 He split the rocks in the wilderness
   and gave them water as abundant as the seas;
16 he brought streams out of a rocky crag
   and made water flow down like rivers.
Johnson applies the remembering of testimonies (the record of Gods deeds) also to the remembering of God’s deeds that are not recorded in Scripture.  By talking about these things we remember was God has done and are” aware of a God who invades the impossible.”
If we lack awareness of God’s action in our world, we lose faith and courage, and our plans will fall short of what He intends for us.
Conclusion: record and repeat testimonies of God’s deeds in our life and in lives we know. (BJ has a special journal solely to record miracles.)   Journaling is recommended by many Christian authors, but Johnson equates it with the OT command of repeating the Lord’s deeds.
Controlling Your Environment
A virtuous cycle: “As I developed a lifestyle of feeding on the promises and prophecies of God over my file and meditating on His testimonies, something interesting has happened.  People with testimonies now constantly find me, like heat seeking missiles.  Because the nature of testimony carries a prophetic anointing, it’s as though I am prophesied over continually.   As a result, I have a steady supply of encouragement and strength.”
Strength comes from covenant friendships. Covenant allows the spiritual reality that governs your life to flow in the other’s and vice versa.  It is vital to develop friendships with people whose lives show the fruit of the Kingdom.
“I have strong personal boundaries for interacting with people who speak from a position of negativity or unbelief.    Normally I minister to them but do not give them access to my life.  When I’m lacking in strength, however, I intentionally avoid them.   It does not sound very compassionate, but I am the only one responsible for keeping my heart free from Doubt and judgement, and I alone can recognise when I am vulnerable.”
The place of solitude.   “In case after case, the same person who carried a marvellous anointing that brought healing, deliverance and salvation to thousands lacked the wisdom to see that we wouldn’t be able to sustain that ministry if he did learn to get away from the crowds long enough to get physical rest and cultivate life-giving relationships with family and friends who would reaffirm his or her focus on the Kingdom.”
“Jesus took his disciples away from the crowds to rest and to be together.   Jesus was moved to action, not by human need, but by his Father’s heart.”
If this seems like a deadly serious book, that is because it is.  However Johnson sneaks in a paragraph saying that he takes himself too seriously and resists laughter in difficult times, but that the people of faith who support him in hard times have a great sense of humour.
The Desperate Cry
Response to being convicted of sin—feel convicted not condemned.  Remember that in the fullness of his grace not only forgives our sins, but also empowers us to live like Him.
Focus on God’s answers, not you problems.
Our personal ambition is to be transformed into His image.

Human Sacrifices: The Nature of Idolatry

By

Image: Tash and Aslan

When I was twenty-something, young and ambitious, I read this statement by Willa Cather, The God of Art demands human sacrifices.
“Okay, then,” I said, understanding that achieving mastery, artistry, would take a total commitment.
For these were the kind of statements which I heard in my Creative Writing masters and doctoral program: The artist’s life is the triumph of sacrifice, said the critic, Helen Vendler. The magisterial Henry James wrote, “If one would do the best he can with his pen, there is one word he must inscribe on his banner, and that word is solitude.
Mad, wasn’t it, that the ideal of writing well so consumed me, and consume me it did. I worked with a top editor from Harper and Row, Ted Solataroff, and caught the interest of a top agent, Virginia Barber in my early thirties. I completed the first draft of a manuscript through my first pregnancy, and the first year of my baby’s life. When it was turned down in 1995, I remember lying face down on the floor, and saying to myself, “I want to die.” That was only time I have ever felt like that.
However, I submitted the best chapters for an NEA award, only 30 of which were given annually then. And it won–a fat cheque of $20,000. And I got invitations to writers’ colonies, The Vermont Studio Centre, and The Virginia Centre for the Creative Arts. Where the visiting writers said I should shrink the first manuscript (about working with Mother Teresa in Calcutta down to 50-60 pages from 200+) and instead write a memoir of a Catholic childhood in India. Which I did, and then, as I’ve written here, balked again at agent/editor requests for changes, and took a break from writing.
* * *
And it took that break for that all-consuming idol of writing to die. It used to be the biggest barrier in my spiritual life: that fact that what I wanted more than anything was to write.
It’s still the case. I have a very simple bucket list of things I definitely want to do (as opposed to be) before I die. It has just one thing on it. Just one. I want to write. That’s it.
* * *
But more important than that, far more important is that I want to know Christ. I want to dwell in Christ. I want to be subsumed in Christ. I want Christ to dwell in me, every part of me, the writer part, as well as the rest of me.
The writer part of me is now subsumed in the Christ-lover and Christ-follower. It is not a little rebel part of me that stands outside apart, arms crossed, scowling at the totality of devotion Christ demands. I write because that is the vocation given to me, part of my Christian discipleship. And how long I took to arrive at this point!
In fact, I write partly through Christ’s energy and inspiration. Before, writing felt like running off and doing my own pleasurable thing, when I felt the Christian thing might have been housework, or something dreary like that.
How long it has taken me to come to this point, to rely on God’s power and inspiration to write, to feel that my writing is in the force field of God’s presence, power and blessing, and is flowing with God’s purposes for me (and my readers) rather than a guilty self-indulgence.
And now, writing is joy, instead of guilt and conflict. God has mercifully cleared the plate for me to write, as my sweet, husband, Roy, has agreed to stay home and run our home, lives, children and business, so that I can have the day clear to write. Getting back into creative work is not easy after the 4-5 year break from reading and writing that I took to establish the business, but I am gradually doing it. It is the right time. Before I felt I was grabbing time to write. Now, it is given to me.
He who loves his writing more than me is not worthy of me. He who loves his blog more than me is not worthy of me. I used to read Matthew 10:37 etc. and sadly say to myself: Well, I am not worthy. Well, I am still not, of course, but at least, I can say truthfully that, as far as I know, I no longer love my writing or anything else more than Christ.
* * *
In The Last Battle, Lewis points out the relentlessness of anything we worship except Christ. The ass who pretends to be Aslan demands more and more including the squirrels’ precious winter hoard of nuts. His demands will never be satisfied, just as the demands of anything we set up in the place of Christ will never be satisfied–a business, a career, sex, amazing children, money, fame, success…
* * *
Our spirits are eternal things. Infinite in that they will live forever. (Also infinite in that there has been no proven limit to man’s capacity to learn, to memorize, to invent or create.)
As such, only the infinite will satisfy our thirst. Only God will satisfy our thirst.
* * *
The secular writer David Forster Wallace writes brilliantly on this. Anything except God that you you worship will eat you alive, he says. He continues,
      And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship–be it Jesus Christ or Allah, be it YHWH or the Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles–is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.
If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth.
Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally kill you.
On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.
Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear.
Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.
* * *
I truly don’t want to love anything more than Christ. And if I do, Lord, quickly set flame to it.
Because you alone can satisfy my soul as with the richest of food.
And because as C.S. Lewis says, “Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.”

Human Sacrifices: “Anything Else You Worship Will Eat You Alive,” David Foster Wallace

By

Willa Cather famously said, “The God of Art demands human sacrifices.”

Well, if one sets excellence in an art or science or craft or business as the goal of one’s life, then, yes, it will demand a human sacrifice–your very self.
However, if you set out to create art, or the best art you are capable of within the constraints of time, in tandem with God, then human sacrifice is neither demanded nor necessary.
“Here’s something that’s weird but true: in the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism.
 
There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.
 
And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship–be it Jesus Christ or Allah, be it YHWH or the Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles–is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.

If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth.

Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally kill you.
 
On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.
Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear.

Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out.

But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.
 
They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing.
 
And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the centre of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it.
 
But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving…. The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.
 
That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.”

The Magic Kingdom-VI. The Ones to whom He Opens the Door

By

h/t
 The Magic Kingdom is a long, very personal essay I wrote in 2003, which I am posting here in installments, without re-reading or editing (because, once I start, I would edit it into a different essay!). This is the final section
I The Magic Kingdom I–The Varieties of Magic

 II The Magic Worlds of Art and Nature.    

III Deep Magic from Before the Dawn of Time. 
IV The Magic Kingdom of Prayer
V The Ones He Calls and the Ones He Chooses 
                                                         The Ones to Whom He Opens the Door.

               And in church, the veil of sin between me and Him hangs heavily, for we had once known sweet fellowship, and I realize my greatest betrayal was that I turned my eyes far from his lovely eyes, and I cry out for forgiveness, and for his life to once more flood me.  And I remember that the publican who went home justified before God merely cried, “God have mercy on me, a sinner,” that there is more rejoicing in heaven over one Anita who repents than over the ninety-nine righteous who do not need to repent.  “For all the fitness he desireth is to feel thy need of him.”
               And I cry out, “Oh wretched woman that I am!  Who will rescue me from this body of death?  For I am a woman of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips.”  And time and time again, in response, the veil which I long to step through is ripped in two from top to bottom, and I step over, and with the eyes of faith, I see the Lord, seated on his throne, high and lifted up, and the whole earth is full of his glory, and I ask him to brand me so deeply that I can never stray, and I feel my heart and lips touched by the burning coal of repentance, and I hear the magical words, “Your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.”
               And I might be asked to speak at a church function, lead a Bible study, write a spiritual piece, and I think “Who am I?” and I remember another to whom he opened the door, a murderer in hiding who had quite literally broken–not just lamps and mugs–but all  the ten commandments in one fell swoop–who had the same reasonable query, and was reassured, “I will help you speak and will teach you what to say;” “My Presence will go with you and I will give you rest.”
               This is the deepest magic I know: that God is agape, that he loves the lazy and weak-willed and vacillating, the undisciplined and messy–like me–and though I may slap on a smile and shine my house, and close the windows when I lose my temper, and dangerously shove laundry and  secrets and skeletons into closets to molder in the darkness, I am still loved by One from whom no secrets need to be kept, for his serious direct eyes see right through them, and he loves me anyway, the kind of love which, when offered us, however imperfectly, by a father, a husband, a mentor, a friend, a child staggers and transforms us.
               Yes, this too is what prayer is like: not being able to meet the eyes of Him my heart loves, for the golden life-line that bound us has been so frayed by rage, hatred, revulsion, fear and frustration; and I feel like stone–cold, hard, dead (and a little crazy); and I realize that I have never known how to love; and my betraying heart says with Enobarbus in Anthony and Cleopatra, “I am alone the villain of the earth.”  It is then to discover that when the dead trees of the ice storm snapped all visible cables, the underground cords that bound me to him were not, could not be, severed, for they were secured deep, in the basement of my personality, when I implored him in, and he came and set up his dwelling within me.  And though I have filled my mind and days with sin and folly and distraction, in the bunker basement of my being, unscathed by 5000 pound bombs, or the hurricanes and tornadoes of the heart, he remains, the heart of my own heart, a love so extravagant and stunning that I cannot quite get my mind around it.
               The magic of the Kingdom is that the imperfect and erratic such as I can enter it, that its doors are always open, that repentance is the key.  That I am in the grip of deep grace; that he will not let go; that the days when I run to him, humbled by my failures, are the days when I, in fact, have the most room in my heart for him; when I most resemble the ones he chose. That this is an eclectic sampling of those to whom he opened the door: yes, yes, some of the ninety-nine righteous, but also Augustine, fettered by lust, horrified at the implications of conversion: “Give me chastity, but not yet,’ he famously prays; Colson, feeling furious, framed, shamed by Watergate; Anne Lamott, drunk, doped, hemorrhaging after an abortion, whose audacious sinner’s prayer was, “Fuck it. You can come in.”[1] 
 Those He Transforms
               Samuel tells Saul–“The Spirit of the Lord will come upon you in power and you will be changed into a different person.”[2]   Is there anyone so self-satisfied, so smug, for whom this promise holds no magic?  Psychotherapy, self-help books–vehicles of hope for modern man–at best help us to bear fortune’s slings and arrows by increasing insight, modifying behavior. To enter the magic kingdom, to become a true Christian, modifies the heart.  This is the promise of the new covenant: “I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.”[3]   “For if any man is in Christ, he is a new creation;” Paul writes.  “Very lovely, but not really true,” I thought when first a Christian.  I now believe it–and not just because I believe Scripture is inspired.  Nobody could talk the blind man of John 9 out of his own experience: “One thing I know.  I was blind, but now I see.”  I know God can dramatically transform the human personality because I find myself experiencing it with great joy.
               For as the yeast of the Kingdom rises through me, everything I consider important or impressive, the eyes with which I see people; the way I live my life–it’s all thoroughly reshuffled.   I rapidly change, every few months, so much so that I can read the journals of six months, a year ago, with sadness and bemusement as if they belonged to another woman, and say, like Angelo in Measure for Measure, “but that was in a far country, and the wench is dead.”
               A drab brown caterpillar in our garden shriveled into a chrysalis, inconspicuous as a dead twig, before it streaked across the garden, a striking orange and black kite, a startling paraglider, a Viceroy butterfly.  The same Ancient of Days who designed those metamorphoses designed ours: that the yeast of ancient words, and a spirit, ancient before there were days, should transform us with ever-increasing glory from lumpen dough to warm, nourishing, golden, glorious bread, until we barely resemble the woman we once were.
               This then is the Magic Kingdom: powerfully transforming, but invisible so that its reality can be doubted in my own life, or in other peoples’.  When the resplendent streamers of the aurora borealis play on it, it shimmers, solid and immutable, and I am certain that I will never live in any other reality for its joy pulses through my blood and bones. Yet the mists of pressure, foolishness, fury, weariness, or despair can obscure that iridescent castle.  I reach out through the fog: Have I lost God, or have I never known him?   But the mists lift, and at dawn, I see him, and he is the rising sun from heaven, the bright and morning star, the King of Kings, seated on his throne, and I know that he is my friend, and that he has established his magic kingdom within me, and all around me, and it will never pass away.

[1] Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies, pg. 50, Anchor Books, 1999
[2] 1Kings, 10:6
[3] Ezekiel 11:19



Share on site of your choice … Wikio

Absolute Surrender, and the Christian Life

By

 

I am not athletic. At all! During a family trip to the Dunes du Pyla near Bordeaux, the largest sand dune in Europe, I sat on the sand, watching my family climb it, and enjoy the views up the sand-mountain.I have stood at edge of rinks, and watched Roy ice-skate; sat at the edge of pools, and watched Zoe and Irene dive. Last Christmas, I stood on the beach in New Zealand, while Zoe swam up and touched a tame dolphin in Gisborne, New Zealand, called Moko.

This is an extended metaphor for the Christian life without absolute surrender to God. You can get to the dune, to the pool, to the ocean, to the ice-rink but not really experience the views, the swimming, the gliding, unless you enter in through the narrow gate.

Which is absolute surrender to the will of God.

Absolute surrender is the way to live, leaving more and more of the business of our lives in God’s competent hands. An action, an act of will which we might need to go through several times in a day!

It is the narrow gate into life. It is like death to do it. Have I done it fully?

No, alas, not yet, but I do try to bring my life area by area, into sync with the will of God, just as I am decluttering my house, and bringing order into it, room by room, inch by inch.

I have resisted for years, but I now think, like most hard things, the sooner one gets it done with, the better. The sooner one can begin to enjoy life, to experience joy.

A mystic moment in everyday life, Poem by Rabindranath Tagore

By

Here’s one of my favourite Rabindranath Tagore poems from Geetanjali

I ask for a moment’s indulgence to sit by thy side. The works 
that I have in hand I will finish afterwards. 

Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite, 
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil. 


Now it is time to sit quiet, face to face with thee, and to sing 
dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.