Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

Anita Mathias's Blog on Faith and Art

“It will be done just as you believed it would”

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“It will be done just as you believed it would.” It sounds like some New Age, impossible, airy-fairy, feel-good but not true statement, doesn’t it?

But who said it? Our wise and wonderful Saviour (Matthew 8:13).

Earlier this year, I listened to the whole of Matthew on my long walks, and was forcibly struck by this: the importance of faith.

* * *

A question I’ve pondered all my Christian life is this: What makes the difference between one Christian and another? One answer is: their faith. It is their expectancy that God will answer their prayers.

I once had a Charismatic pastor a few years ago who used to say, “If you can’t see it, you can’t have it.” And I used to think, airy-fairy rubbish.

But, he’s somewhat right, I now thing. If we are working for something, let’s say on finishing a book, or developing a blog so that is will gain as many readers as it is capable of gaining, or in developing a business, we need more than a strategy. We have to someone see each part of the strategy, see it working. Else, we will work half-heartedly, at cross-purposes with ourselves, not really believing that what we hope will happen

If we cannot “see” each element of our strategy ( for instance in blog growth, in writing, business, weight loss)  working, ask yourself why. Perhaps you will uncover areas of self-doubt ; perhaps you will uncover your sense that your plan is too grandiose, is a wish rather than a plan, so that you don’t really believe you can do it or it can be done.

This self-doubt, the sense that what we are working with is a dream rather than a plan can paralyse.

Go back to the drawing board. So, you doubt that you will put in the hours walking to lose 26 pounds a year. Okaay, how about a pound a month, twelve a year?

You doubt you will find the hours to write a page of your book a day? How about 250 words.

I am all for dreaming big, but if I cannot see it happening, I settle for a dream I can believe it.

It will be done just as you believed it would. But yet the power is not in our faith, the power is in God. However, I am too old, too weary, too battered to pray for things I cannot see happen (though I still dream big and wild, I assure you.)

* * *

I have just had a HUGE disappointment. Something huge which I was sure would happen—and so did not pray enough about– did not.

Would prayer have changed the outcome? YES, I believe so, for it would have changed my behaviour, and the role I played in what happened.

The good thing that happens when our prayers are not answered, is that all our theological presuppositions get thrown up into the air. And we realize again that we are dealing with mystery.

The power is not in our faith, the power in in God.

The power is not in the faithfulness of our prayers; the power is in the faithful one.  

And while we definitely want to pray in the way Jesus commended, we understand that prayer is talking to God, and He himself is the land of our heart’s desire, more important, more precious and beautiful than what we say to him.

In which Birds Teach us Not to Worry

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We can worship God in church, and we can worship God while walking through the spectacular natural world he made, which is full of clues to his character. The heavens declare God’s glory, without words.

Trees, the ocean, the day and the seasons tell of a God who loves beauty, who made all things well, who offers us rhythms as a gift, alternating periods of blazing bright and quiescence, when we gather strength for the next period of full flourishing.

* * *

I think Christ uses examples from the natural world most tenderly when he assures us that the Father feeds the birds of the air, who do not sow or reap or store away in barns, (Matt 6: 25-34).

Or that he clothes in glory the lilies of the field who do not labour and spin. He watches the sparrow, his eyes full of delight.

And we are more valuable.

So do not worry about your life, about the future, Jesus says. Your father is watching you, as you, with delight, watch the finches at your feeder, for whom you’ve laid out food and fat and water.  You are under his protection.

* * *

Do not worry.

Not worrying is a mental discipline we learn with practice, just as writing well, or running fast are creative and physical disciplines we learn with practice.

So I am training myself to be calm, relaxed and super-chilled, to go through my day peacefully.

* * *

Norman Vincent Peale describes, in one of his Positive Thinking books, being hustled from event to event at a conference he was speaking at. He was finally gets to his room, and is told, “Dinner in 10 minutes.” “Yes, yes,” he says nervously, and looks around stressed. Then he realises he doesn’t care if he missed dinner. He could get room service.

He lies down, falls asleep, wakes up twenty minutes later, refreshed, calmly snaps on his bow-tie, and goes to dinner. He had only missed the pre-dinner speaker and the soup, and by all accounts neither was good.

* * *

Kathleen Chesto writes, “A story is told of a safari in the Serengeti. A researcher was rushing to the mating grounds of the African elephant. He had started late and pushed his porters relentlessly to arrive by mating season. On the fourth day, the porters sat down and refused to move. The translator explained they would go no farther until they had given their spirits time to catch up with them.”

Peale waited for his spirit to catch up with him, only missed the soup, and did his evening peacefully

* * *

One thing I have learned from the Peale story, which I think of every time I am running late is that rushing and stress are simply not worth it. If I am running late, I don’t look at the clock at home, or  in the car. I get there when I get there, and enjoy it, and if I’ve missed the soup, so be it.

(Must add though, that having been the girl who always ran late all my life, in mid-life I have realised that being late is a choice, which I don’t need to make. It’s stressful, and a bit rude. Am getting my act together and re-configuring things so that I am late less often.)

* * *

Another area in which I have decided not to worry is my blog. Interestingly, we cannot control the most important factor in the success of our blogs: i.e. how many people read it. Normally, the number of my readers or “Unique Monthly Visitors” in blog and Google parlance rises, month on month. When it drops, in summer or December, I wonder if I should write more.

However, I cannot, at present, see how I could write more, or devote more time to my blog without neglecting the other things God has given me to do—I want to work on a book. I am a wife, and mother, own a house and a garden and a body which I need to exercise. I am a spiritual being, and I need to nurture my relationship with God from which, truly, everything flows.

And so, having spent 30 minutes drafting a blog, I need to lay it aside for the day, and when I am worried that it is static, I need to pray about it as I go about my day.

For it is a Christian blog, and the meat of good Christian writing comes from surrender, from burrowing more deeply into the holy things of God and reporting your findings, and that can be done while gardening or walking.

And so if I find myself worrying if my blog will ever grow, I pray instead that I may know Christ more, and that he may bless my blog, and give me whatever ideas he may have for its growth. For he is kind, and his ideas will lead to energy, not exhaustion.

And so I lean in, and listen instead of worrying–and ideas come.

So that is my rule for myself vis-à-vis my blog: I am not allowed to worry. I am allowed to pray, for blessing, for ideas, for strategy. And, oddly, that simple rule will work for every area of my life.

 

And Sarah Snorted. When our Faith Falters, But God’s Goodness Remains Constant

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Arent de Gelder: God and the Angels visit Abraham

  Arent de Gelder 1645-1727

Three white-clad men walk out of the desert, out of the shimmering sands. Such is their calm and majesty that Abraham, the Patriarch, “very wealthy in silver and gold, sheep and cattle and camels and male and female donkeys, menservants and maidservants” runs to meet them, bows low to the ground, and offers him his most lavish hospitality: a freshly slaughtered calf, yogurt and milk, and bread from the finest flour,

It is a theophany; Abraham sees the pre-incarnate Christ. Abraham sees God.

“Then one of the men said, “I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife will have a son.” (Gen 18:10)

* * *

And Sarah, listening at the entrance of her tent, out of sight, snorts.

Same old, same old, same old promises. The son, descendants, more of them than the stars in the sky and the grains of sand in the seashore.

Well, God, that sounds wonderfully poetic, but you know, as for me, here, in space and time, well, I could do with just one child. Is that too much to ask? Well, yes, apparently so!

I am weary of these promises. I am weary of hope. “After I am worn out and my lord is old, will I now have this pleasure?” she thinks. (Gen 18:12)

And Sarah snorts!

* * *

 Then the Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Will I really have a child, now that I am old?’ 14 Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Gen 18: 13-14)

But perhaps the Lord thought, “Yeah, I am with Sarah. I have tried their hope and faith and patience for long decades. Perhaps too long. I have given them a good life full of richness in the interim. I have blessed them in every other way, but I know their longing, their heartbeat. It is for a son. It is for Isaac.

I waited so long so that they would never doubt that Isaac was mine, and not theirs. Never fail to see my glory in this baby, Isaac. Never doubt Isaac was a miracle baby, my miracle ancestor, pre-figuring when I too would enter human history as a miracle baby, the greatest miracle of all.

But it is now time. Time for their miracle. Time for Isaac.”

“I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son.”

 Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.”

But he said, “Yes, you did laugh.” (Gen 18: 14-15)

* * *

Ah, Sarah, how you blew it. Snorting at a theophany! Snorting at Christ and his angels! You’ve lost hope. The snake of bitterness curls around your heart. You no longer have the energy, the courage to hope, and who can blame you?

And then you lie, you lie to the Lord, who sees your heart.

But are you zapped, turned to a pillar of salt, as Lot’s wife was?

No, the Lord understood your longing, your disappointment, your frustration.

And despite your snort of laughter, your spontaneous lie, He reiterated his promise, no longer vague, but definite,  “I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son.”

And He did, and you did, and you called him Isaac, which means laughter. Your snort of derisive laughter was redeemed; it became the laughter of joy at your miracle baby.

* * *

 And sometimes, our dreams seem disproportionately enormous, and our faith wavers, and the years pass, but our dreams, the promises we heard God whisper to us, the destiny we are born for, has not come to pass, and when we verbalize our dreams, we almost snort.

And how can you, Lord, bless someone who has so blown it, a sinner, whose faith has wavered?

But you do because you know our frame; you know we are but dust, and so though we do not deserve it, though we have blown it again and again, you come to us; you bring the destiny you have promised us to pass; you give us the child of promise whose name is laughter. You enjoy the pun, artist that you are, transforming the snort of sceptical laughter to laughter like a running brook.

 

 

 

In which Driveness & Scarcity Thinking is the Voice of the Oppressor, & the Enemy of the People

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Christ The Good Shepherd

 I am reading Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly. She quotes Global activist Lynne Twist who, in her book The Soul of Money, refers to scarcity as “the great lie”.

Twist writes, “For me, and for many of us, our first waking thought of the day is, “I didn’t get enough sleep.” The next one is “I don’t have enough time.” Whether true or not, that thought of not enough occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it. We spend most of the hours and the days of our lives hearing, explaining, complaining or worrying about what we don’t have enough of.

Before we even sit up in bed, before our feet touch the floor, we’re already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already lacking something. And by the time we go to bed at night, our minds are racing with a litany of what we didn’t get, or didn’t get done, that day. We go to sleep burdened by those thoughts and wake up to that reverie of lack.

This internal condition of scarcity, this mind-set of scarcity, lives at the very heart of our jealousies, our greed, our prejudice, and our arguments with life.”

                                                                                                               * * *

And so we go through life, driven, driven, driven. Rushing like the Gadarene swine, driven by demons they could not see over a cliff to their destruction.

Driven by ambition to the detriment of our health, mental health, emotional health, relationships.

Driven for validation. To prove our intelligence, spirituality, talent, worth…

Forgetting that all drivenness comes from Satan, never from God.

Driveneness comes from the Accuser and Oppressor of the Brethren, never from the Good Shepherd who gently leads us.

We are driven by Satan, but Christ, he leads us on minute by minute, through his gentle Spirit. We have but to follow.

* * *

And in our drivenness to grab the life we dream of through our own hard work, we forget that there is a far better way, without bleeding fingertips and hearts and lives.

The way of prayer, and trust, and leaving room for God to work his miracles.

We forget The One who Makes Dreams Come True, the weaver, who can weave a technicolour dreamcoat from scraps of discarded wool

The one who can give us our wild dreams, and add no sorrow to them.

The one who says, “Come ye apart from them and be separate.”

The one who says, “Honey Child, you are enough.

I like you just as you are.

Brilliant success won’t make me like you more.

Failure will only make me envelop you more.

In me, you are loved, complete.

In me, child, you are enough!

Turn your gaze to me, and let me fill up the hungry holes in your heart.

Eat me, drink me.

Turn to me when you sense Satan driving,

When you are tempted by striving,

And I will give you rest.”

A Very Long Pregnancy: Or, How to Live in the Land of Unfulfilled Promises and Deferred Dreams

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The Starry Night - Vincent van Gogh

 The early chapters of Abraham’s story make painful reading.

Again and again, through the decades God promises him a child: At the great oak of Moreh at Shechem, when he was 75; at Bethel, when he lets his nephew Lot have the more fertile land; and near the great trees of Mamre at Hebron, where “Abraham believes God, and it was credited to him as righteousness,” and God makes his great covenant with him.

And not just one child.

Abraham is promised descendants more numerous than the stars in the sky, and the sand in the seashore. God promises all the land his eyes can see to Abraham’s offspring.

Which for decades number precisely zero!

* * *

How does Abraham hear God’s great promises? In the same way we do. “The word of the Lord came to him” (Gen 15:4). He heard it in the secret places of his heart, a clear word, a clear certainty and surety.

And meanwhile in the “real” world: nothing happened. 

No pregnancy. Sarah and Abraham just grew older and older. Menopause came and went, and still he heard the insistent promise of descendants, as many as the stars in the sky.

* * *

Are you living in the in-between land of a sensed, longed-for, right destiny deferred? What should you do?

1) Remember God. Keep Believing.

Look up, God seemed to be saying, don’t look down.  Don’t look at your withering body, your declining strength. Look up at the skies, at infinity, which mirrors my power. Look up, for with me anything is possible.

2) Remember the world is full of goodness even while your dream gestates

The dream God has given you is just a sliver of the goodness God showers on you in the land of the living.

Even though Isaac was not born, Abraham had a beautiful wife, and success, which is satisfying: “sheep and cattle and male and female donkeys, menservants and maidservants and camels.” “He had become very wealthy in livestock and in silver and gold.”

While waiting for the sky above you to be filled with the promised stars, never fail daily to taste the goodness of the Lord, and thank him for it. The sea remains full. The palette of the sky changes minute by minute. The world bursts with beauty. People are fun! There is work and food and rest and companionship and friendship.

Never shrink your world to Isaac who will come when the time is right and you are right.

3) Prioritise your dream

The dream God has placed in your heart, and confirmed to you repeatedly in prayer, through the months and years…if you are sure it is of God, then step out in it.

Do what you have to do. Arrange your life in accordance with this dream.

The German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke writes “Ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple “I must,” then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. 

 My dream is to write. For me, believing God will mean not looking at my own tiredness, but leaning on him for strength.

Believing God has called me to write, I will need to highly prioritise it, which sadly, I often don’t do.   I will set my face towards my goal.

And this will mean pruning things which are not the work which God has given me to do.

Work on your dreams, believing that you are in the vine, that it sap rushes through you, that God wishes to enlarge your territory.

Work like one flowing in the river of God’s presence and power, relying on the power of the river in you and around you for strength. s

4 Conversely, Just Stand There. Quit Striving. Just Rest.

The work Abraham had to do for Isaac to be born was to believe.

To trust and rest in the goodness of God.

To believe God was powerful and could do what he promised.

To believe God was good and would what he promised

Abraham needed the decades of resting and trusting to be able to do what he had to do—to surrender Isaac to God, so that Isaac was wholly God’s, not Abraham’s at all, so that God could enter human history through this family.

Passive faith, just resting, was what God required of Abraham.

Don’t prematurely grab the ball of the dream out of God’s hands, accuse him of not working on it hard enough and fast enough, and go off and do things in your own power, without checking with him.

Doing things he has never told you to do, things he has never authorised: These are always a bad idea, though they may yield short term apparent fruits, like Ishmael. In the long run, they may delay and damage your dream because you are listening to the voices of fear and your own finite wisdom, instead of listening to God’s infinite wisdom.

How about you? Are you living in the in-between land of dreams deferred? Any survival tips? 

 

In which I Trip, Dust off my Knees, and Get Back into the Race

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Do not bring us to the test, Jesus advises us to pray–which suggests that those who pray this may be spared much testing and temptation. But in this world, there will be trouble (John 16:33) as Jesus reminds us in his luminous last supper discourse.

And one purpose of being brought to the test is that it reveals our hearts, our characters, and where we really are in our spiritual lives.

And the exam results often surprise us!

* * *

I guess I’ve failed a test in the last 11 days—but want to do better.

My memoir will be published next April, with the manuscript due on Dec 31st.

My editor has a fairly systematic plan with week-by-week tasks. Last week’s was to turn in an outline of the book. This week’s was to work out how many chapters or parts thereof I am to write per week between now and Dec. 31st. Divide the estimated word count of the chapters by the number of hours I have to write each week, and get the word count to aspire to per working hour.

All well and good—except the book has 3 major sections, and I have just finished outlining the first one. So 6 days behind, and only a third of the way through last week’s task.

Gosh, what a mass of material. I have actually written the book in first draft, but there are still dozens of pages of material I haven’t used, and because I wrote the book, topically, chapter by chapter, without an outline, there is some repetition.

However, the logical, orderly, obsessive part of me is now delighting in a firm structure, seeing chapters emerge organically, putting everything in its correct place.

* * *

Anyway, so I am working on what I should have turned in last Sunday, and am about a third of the way through, and am even working on Sunday which I rarely do.

Busyness, ah busyness, I have steadfastly attempted to avoid busyness for much of my adult life.  Stress and I don’t get on.

I tend to eat comfort food when stressed. I cut back on exercise.

And alas, I’ve done both this week, reduced my walking from 7-8K to 2-3 K (which meant I didn’t think that well, or sleep that well, or feel that happy). Ate a bit too much chocolate and cookies and sweet treats for the high instead of getting the high from “endogenous morphine” or endorphins  by running (which meant I didn’t think that well, or sleep that well, or feel that happy). Compromised on prayer and Bible study.

In short, I behaved in exactly the sort of way I would counsel my own daughters, or any young woman I was mentoring not to behave.

* * *

But this is not the way I want to write, and this is not the way I am going to write.

This is the way I want to write: I want to see myself hugged in the Father’s embrace.

I want to feel him breathe on me. I want to feel him breathe his Holy Spirit on me (John 20:22).

I want to write from that breathing on me. That is the only way I want to write.

I want to write in that dance with the Father, in union with him.

I want my writing to be worship. I want my writing to be joy.

But by the help of God that is how I am going to write.

* * *

 And guess what? I know this from many other experiences of falling and repentance.

When I write in this way, I will write better, write faster, write more tirelessly, “running, and not growing weary, walking and not being faint. (IS 40:31).” For I will be relying on refreshing from eternal springs.

Seek the Kingdom of God and his righteousness (active voice) and “all these things will be added to you,” (passive voice, added to you, by the mercy of God who honours those who honour him).

And it took a week of “running” and writing in my own strength, and not getting very far for me to see that.

And now for another week of writing with the help of Christ who strengthens me.

In which I resolve not to be afraid

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So the disciples row for “three or three and a half miles.” (I love these charming details, John striving to remember accurately, and how they make it easier for us to believe in truth of these memoirs and autobiographical reflections of Jesus.)

It’s dark; the wind is raging; the waters are rough.

And a figure looms out of the darkness, walking on the waters, approaching the boat.

And they cannot see his face; and they do not know his name

And understandably, they are terrified.

* * *

Who is he who comes walking on the waters, in the dark, when the winds rage, and the sea is rough?

The dark figure terrifies, until he speaks, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

And that too is the aspect He sometimes wears. He shows himself sometimes when it is dark, and the winds are strong, and the waters are rough. He comes towards us, a dark figure, and we cannot see his face, and we do not know his name, and we are terrified.

But it is Him, nonetheless, and face to face with the stranger in the darkness, we are to remember God’s consistent command: Do not be afraid.

And so I will not be afraid.

I shall live, tasting the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

* * *

The Israelites response to the manna which sustained them was “What is it?” In Hebrew, Manna.

“Tell me your name,” Jacob uncertainly asks the dark figure who disabled him. “Who is it?” the disciples wondered, terrified, as a dark figure loomed of out the storm and darkness, approaching them. “Who is it?” they asked. Or “Manna.”

The answer was always, is always, the same. In sunshine, in abundance, in shadow, in darkness, amid the wind and waves,

It is the Lord.

* * *

Everything we have comes from God. He comes to us in spring and summer–and winter too. In day–and night too. In birth–and death too. In success–and failure too.  In health–and sickness too.

“Yes,” I say to the dark figure walking towards me amidst the roaring winds and stormy sea. “I know it is you. I have trusted you in the past and I trust you now. I know you.”

“And so, however the dice falls, I know nothing shall separate me from your love, and all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.”

The role of Enemies and Frenemies in God’s Plan for our Lives

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high-gradient rocky riverbank system along the Peabody River near Gorham (photo by Ben Kimball for the NH Natural Heritage Bureau)
Have you ever had an enemy, or a competitive frenemy? You know the sort of person who, if your name comes up to speak, or be in an anthology, or a panel, or win a prize is certain to, covertly and insidiously, block you?

I guess no one can escape them, even someone who is“irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, capable of going from perfect bride to perfect mother, with no messy deviation.”

Sometimes, we have behaved in such a way that they have good reason to block us from “glory” or damn us with faint praise. And, sometimes, it is sheer jealousy and insecurity, which we have not deserved.

* * *

Enemies and jealousy are a fact of life. But they are not in any way to disturb us or frighten us. They were written into the blueprint of our lives from the foundation of the world, and whatever opportunities to “star” they deprive us of, were, of course, not opportunities God wanted us to have right then. Enemies, by virtue of thwarting and blocking our weak, foolish and undirected ambitions, in fact, help keep us focused on the main thing.

And—and, this must be infuriating to the enemy—their blocking us is only going to make us stronger, if we continue seeking after Jesus.

No one can block the life of Jesus in us.  And so Paul writes, 16 Rejoice always, 17 pray continually, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thess 5:16.

* * *

As a river hits rock, it turns in another direction. If it did not hit obstacles of hard, gravelly, rocky soil, it would become a swamp, a marsh, a pond. It would never reach the sea. But the impermeable rock it meets, the friend who will not be appeased in our terms, forces it, in its contorted, twisty way, towards the ocean.

When I look back to times when I was blocked, for many of them, I feel thanksgiving. Yes, I do!

I think of a group I was in four years ago in my previous church, led by a little cocky Eastender who had spent time in jail. (Yeah, it all was a bit of a soap opera!). This fellow, I’ll call David, loved to hold forth, and I guess, so did I, then. Once when he asked me to lead the group, he kept interrupting every sentence, and to his wife’s frown and admonitory shake of the head, subsided, muttering, “It’s not a sermon!”

He suggested we split into midweek triplets. I have long had a dream of leading a group which would read through the Bible. (I know now that I will never lead it, because my call to write and blog has grown so much stronger, but I still dream of belonging to such a group.)

So when he suggested prayer triplets, I emailed all the women in the group asking if they wanted to meet in my house, read through the entire Bible, week by week, and then pray. Pretty much everyone wanted to.

Well, this little man went ballistic. My inbox filled with hysterical emails accusing me of undermining him; there were hysterical angry phone-calls.  He sent me idiotic questionnaires asking what I considered the ideal qualities to host a group or lead a group, questionnaires I wisely ignored. I didn’t lead that mini-group.

I was blocked in another group I did lead, thank goodness, thank goodness, and soon left that church which seemed to be as much about contending for status, position and importance as about following Jesus Christ.

* * *

So what happened? I had been leading groups for over ten years, and got into the habit of sharing my thoughts and insights with the group rather than write them down.

The impulse to meditate on Scripture and share my thoughts was still strong in me. Was God-given. When I was not leading, the thoughts and insights still came, a stream of living waters within me, but I wrote them down.

Within six months, in April 2010, I began blogging. The river of God’s life in me, blocked in one direction turned to another, which happened to be God’s true call for me.

* * *

And have I forgiven David? Yeah, sure I have. I was upset and angry then, even burst into tears in one of the phone calls with this man who was so terrified that I might possibly have a greater gift than this—but ultimately, he behaved so stupidly that it was easy to forgive.

Premeditated malice ah, that’s a different ballgame, but even then, God has permitted us to have enemies for our own good.

* * *

What our enemies do for us: We learn to act graciously and with dignity in the face of our enemies, as I did not do then, but do increasingly now. We learn to forgive—and essentially blow off their injury (and sometimes we can blow them off, glory be to God!!).

We learn to trust God that our enemies might block short-term “glory,” but cannot block the long-term purposes of God in our lives. And we learn to keep on keeping on, and when we see God give us the opportunities our enemies denied us—but just bigger and better, oh, our trust is immeasurably deepened.

I joined another local church which I did love, was soon asked to co-lead a group, and did so, but after a year, realized that leading groups was no longer in God’s plan for me, that I could share what the Spirit says to my spirit and perhaps the Church with more people through my blog.

* * *

Somerset Maugham has a splendid story called The Verger. An illiterate man is fired by the snooty new vicar from his job as a church verger. He drifts into business, and becomes wildly successful.

When the bank manager discovers that he was illiterate, “the manager was so surprised that he jumped up from his chair.

“That’s the most extraordinary thing I ever heard.”

He stared at him as though he were a prehistoric monster.

“And do you mean to say that you’ve built up this important business and amassed a fortune of thirty thousand pounds without being able to read or write? Good God, man, what would you be now if you had been able to?”

“I can tell you that sir,” said Mr. Foreman, a little smile on his still aristocratic features. “I’d be verger of St. Peter’s, Neville Square.”

* * *

I got into blogging because I was blocked in a manuscript I had trouble wrapping up, and because being blocked from teaching the Bible after doing so for seven years left me with time to meditate and more ideas than I had people to share them with. And so I wrote them down. And blogging has been life-transforming for me, and so I bless all who have brought me to it.