In which I try to discern the Voice and Will of God Archives

Burn-Out Vanishes When We Rediscover Purpose

When I blogged regularly, which I did for six years, I felt more alive, more alert, more attentive to my life, and what God was doing in it. In Frederick Buechner’s phrase, I listened to my life.

I have taken a six month blogging break, and the peril of blogging breaks (or writing breaks: ask Harper Lee or Margaret Mitchell!) is that you feel you have to write something substantial, beautiful, and meaty when you return to blogging …which seems daunting, and so you put off writing—and returning.

The cardinal rule for avoiding writers’ and bloggers’ block—and indeed for any endeavour—is to begin where you are, with something little and slight if need be.

So perhaps I should catch you up with a snippet from my life, and an insight stemming from it.

* * *

The country lane on the outskirts of Oxford, England which we live, unbelievably quiet and beautiful when we moved in over ten years ago, has changed its character as more people have moved in—“Traveller” families, as it happens. It has become noisier, less idyllic and scenic. The whole village was up in arms against “Travellers” moving in; there were public meetings and hearings; I was particularly troubled because they were moving onto a field adjacent to my large garden. But in prayer, I “heard” clearly that we were not to oppose them, so we did not; we ceased attending public meetings or lodging planning protests against them, much to our other neighbours’ mystification.

In early June, because of many and noisy neighbours in what had been a quiet and deserted lane, I realized that the time had come to move–from the countryside on the edge of Oxford, where I have happily lived for the last 11 years to the city, to North Oxford in particular. And we even had an offer to buy our house, phew!!

Why North Oxford? When I applied to study in Oxford as a student in the eighties, I felt a call, a leading to Oxford, and I have never felt a call to any other city. North Oxford is walking distance from my church, St. Andrew’s; from Oxford University where I am now on my second year of the German classes I am taking for fun; from the Ashmolean Museum; the superb Oxford Playhouse, friends, parks, the river, a good gym, yoga classes. I would be able to walk most everywhere.

North Oxford is, however, substantially more expensive than my country village on the outskirts of the city. It’s the most expensive area of the UK, outside of London!!

So…

* * *

Deciding to move has galvanized us. “God meant it for good.” We have owned a small business for almost ten years now, and we have started diligently and creatively expanding it to finance our move. So that’s a definite blessing that’s come from this decision.

Many, many, years ago, I felt a longing, to write a memoir. A call? A desire, a longing, a call–they are all intertwined. God reveals his call on our lives through the desires, gifts and experiences he has given us. But the book turned out to a bigger, longer project than I had visualized, and early rejections of the proposal at a hassled, overwhelmed time of my life broke me. Temporarily.

But writing this book was a mysterious call, all right, something that perched on my shoulder, and I didn’t feel free to move on to anything else until I had completed it. So I did not…move on to something else… nor complete it.

The tale has tragic overtones now, but God who loves good stories can make dark plot twists like Joseph-in-the-well-and-dungeon and Good Friday spiral upwards and morph into gold, into Easter Sunday

Anyway, when I decided to move because of my new and noisy neighbours, I swiftly realised that moving was out of the question until I had finished this book. Moving can be stressful, especially in middle age… People can lose their health, their peace and their papers…

So I decided to finish my book before I moved. Realising that living next door to my noisy neighbours was unsustainable in the long run galvanized me to do what I had always wanted to do for years, get some momentum on the book–which has been a great joy. How relieved, how delighted I will be when the book finally gets finished.

* * *

So here I am, writing slowly but steadily.

Funny thing… In June 2016, I was convinced that I was burnt-out. Our daughter Irene, our last nestling, didn’t want to go on holiday over the February or the June half-term breaks because of her mocks and A-S exams, and all I could think of was how tired and burnt out I was, and how I needed a long, active holiday, and to walk many miles a day to exorcise a cobwebby from my mind, and flood it again with oxygen and ideas.

But then an offer came to buy my house, and I decided to sell the house, and move, and to finish my book before I even contemplate moving. With that fresh hearing of the ancient call came a new momentum, and energy descended from the heavens.

I came across this quote recently, “Burnout is more often caused by purpose deficiency than vitamin deficiency.”

My burnout lifted, just like that.

I do not make bucket lists…I see God as full of kindness towards me, with open hands towards me, full of gifts, and am okay with accepting the gifts he pours out. But if I were to make a bucket list… well, finishing and publishing this book would be one of the few things in that bucket. And circumstances have now given me a sort of deadline.

* * *

Years ago, my mentor suggested that I have a writing goal. But incredibly, I didn’t then know how to set goals. You know I would hope to write two chapters, but instead wrote a teeny bit of one… and then what?

So this time, I started really, really ridiculously small, since I was adding a new thing–finishing a book–to a life already full with blogging, parenting, exercising, German classes, gardening, house-running, church, small group, writers’ group, etc. etc. I set the timer for 5 minutes, and decided to write 20 words minimum. The next day, I went for 40, then 60, and now I am at 2300 words a day, new or revised. I keep track of the words I’ve missed on busy days, and try to make up on the days when writing feels like flying (which are not that frequent, sadly).

So this is the second/third draft of the book, revising is not the most scintillating thing, but getting the book finished will be scintillating, so I try to sit down, revise 2300 words, do some make-up words, and then I’m all done for the day.

* * *

A couple of things that are helping me. I start my writing with reading, to take the revision process more joyous. (Currently reading One Man’s Meat, E. B. White’s memoir of country life which I have just decided is not for me, and Goodbye to All That, Robert Graves’ horrifying memoir of his service in the first World War).

I am using the Pomodoro technique, work for 25 minutes, and then take a 5 minute break to tidy and declutter, or bounce on my trampoline for 1000 steps, and then back to work. 25 minutes is a maddeningly short work session, but according to Britain’s NHS, one should take an active break from sitting every 30 minutes: “excessive sitting slows the metabolism – which affects our ability to regulate blood sugar and blood pressure, and metabolise fat – and may cause weaker muscles and bones. Essentially, the body is ‘shutting down’ while sitting and there is little muscle activity.”

I am using “Freedom,” software which blocks the entire internet for the short time I am reading and writing. Divided attention destroys productivity.

I have discovered that a three mile walk through a park or by a river resets my tired mind and floods it with oxygen again; I don’t necessarily need a week or a weekend away, though they are wonderful.

I have been influenced by a book I am reading by Harvard psychiatrist John Ratey, called “Spark: How Exercise will Improve the Performance of Your Brain,” about how running, lifting weights, yoga, dance and sport can spark a measurable improvement in cognitive ability… help you think more clearly, read faster and concentrate longer… essentially make you smarter. I have certainly found it to be true. I am taking yoga classes, and lifting weights, which helps me concentrate for longer, feel more alive and happier, and sleep better.

* * *

Take away? If you are listless, bored, burnt-out and aren’t getting anything much done, re-align yourself with God. Seek his marching orders for the hour in front of you, the day in front of you, the year. Each of us has been created for a purpose, and is intended to be a bright spot in the jigsaw, the mosaic that God is working on. Ask him to reveal the purpose he has for you in the coming year, or years, and then beaver away at it. Having a purpose and focussing on it has cured cancer patients, as we’ve all anecdotally heard; given the dying a new lease of life; lifted depression; helped people achieve more than they ever imagined possible.

What is the next purpose God has in mind for your one and precious life? Aligning yourself with the Father and working on it will fill your life with excitement and energy again.

Love, Anita, tortoising, and sometimes haring, away on the book she has always wanted to write.

The Gift of Limits. The Gift of Learning to Say No

By Anita Mathias

Here’s a striking story from The Emotionally Healthy Church by Pete Scazzero.

Rabbi Edwin Friedman tells the story of a man who had given much thought to what he wanted from life. After trying many things, succeeding at some and failing at others, he finally decided what he wanted.

One day the opportunity came for him to experience exactly the way of living that he had dreamed about. But the opportunity would be available only for a short time. It would not wait, and it would not come again.

Eager to take advantage of this open pathway, the man started on his journey. With each step, he moved faster and faster. Each time he thought about his goal, his heart beat quicker; and with each vision of what lay ahead, he found renewed vigour.

As he hurried along, he came to a bridge that crossed through the middle of a town. The bridge spanned high above a dangerous river.

After starting across the bridge, he noticed someone coming the opposite direction. The stranger seemed to be coming toward him to greet him. As the stranger grew closer, the man could discern that they didn’t know each other, but yet they looked amazingly similar. They were even dressed alike. The only difference was that the stranger had a rope wrapped many times around his waist. If stretched out, the rope would reach a length of perhaps thirty feet.

The stranger began to unwrap the rope as he walked. Just as the two men were about to meet, the stranger said, “Pardon me, would you be so kind as to hold the end of the rope for me?”
The man agreed without a thought, reached out, and took it.

“Thank you,” said the stranger. He then added, “Two hands now, and remember, hold tight.” At that point, the stranger jumped off the bridge.

The man on the bridge abruptly felt a strong pull from the now extended rope. He automatically held tight and was almost dragged over the side of the bridge.

“What are you trying to do?” he shouted to the stranger below.

“Just hold tight,” said the stranger.

This is ridiculous, the man thought. He began trying to haul the other man in. Yet it was just beyond his strength to bring the other back to safety.

Again he yelled over the edge, “Why did you do this?”

“Remember,” said the other, “If you let go, I will be lost.”

“But I cannot pull you up,” the man cried.

“I am your responsibility,” said the other.

“I did not ask for it,” the man said.

“If you let go, I am lost,” repeated the stranger.

The man began to look around for help. No one was within sight.

He began to think about his predicament. Here he was eagerly pursuing a unique opportunity, and now he was being side-tracked for who knows how long.

Maybe I can tie the rope somewhere, he thought. He examined the bridge carefully, but there was no way to get rid of his new- found burden.

So he again yelled over the edge, “What do you want?”

“Just your help,” came the answer.

“How can I help? I cannot pull you in, and there is no place to tie the rope while I find someone else who could help you.”

“Just keep hanging on,” replied the dangling man. “That will be enough.”

Fearing that his arms could not hold out much longer, he tied the rope around his waist.
“Why did you do this?” he asked again. “Don’t you see what you have done? What possible purpose could you have in mind?”

“Just remember,” said the other, “my life is in your hands.”

Now the man was perplexed. He reasoned within himself, “If I let go, all my life I will know that I let this other man die. If I stay, I risk losing my momentum toward my own long-sought-after salvation. Either way this will haunt me forever.”

As time went by, still no one came. The man became keenly aware that it was almost too late to resume his journey. If he didn’t leave immediately, he wouldn’t arrive in time.

Finally, he devised a plan. “Listen,” he explained to the man hanging below, “I think I know how to save you.” He mapped out the idea. The stranger could climb back up by wrapping the rope around him. Loop by loop, the rope would become shorter.

But the dangling man had no interest in the idea.

“I don’t think I can hang on much longer,” warned the man on the bridge.

“You must try,” appealed the stranger. “If you fail, I die.”

Suddenly a new idea struck the man on the bridge. It was different and even alien to his normal way of thinking. “I want you to listen carefully,” he said, “because I mean what I am about to say.”

The dangling man indicated that he was listening.

“I will not accept the position of choice for your life, only for my own; I hereby give back the position of choice for your own life to you.”

“What do you mean?” the other asked, afraid.

“I mean, simply, it’s up to you. You decide which way this ends. I will become the counterweight. You do the pulling and bring yourself up. I will even tug some from here.”
He unwound the rope from around his waist and braced himself to be a counterweight. He was ready to help as soon as the dangling man began to act.

“You cannot mean what you say,” the other shrieked. “You would not be so selfish. I am your responsibility. What could be so important that you would let someone die? Do not do this to me.”

After a long pause, the man on the bridge uttered slowly, “I accept your choice.” In voicing those words, he freed his hands and continued his journey over the bridge.

* * *

Ironically, the closer you come to crossing the bridge to your dreams, the more people will appear jumping off the bridge, insisting that you and only you can save them from drowning.

And it is a lie.

While as Christians we are called to love our spouse, our children, and a few others, we only have two hands and finite time and strength, and so we need to be careful about which of the many ropes tossed to us we choose to hold. Which of the many calls on our time and compassion we answer. How many coffees we serve, cakes we make, meals we deliver.

* * *

Michael Hyatt writes brilliantly about this in a post called Success and Accessibility.

He writes, “The more successful you become, the more other people will demand of your time. As a result, if you are going to maintain margin for your most important priorities, you will have to make some difficult decisions about your accessibility.

He quotes Andy Stanley, who writes,

“The harsh reality is that the more successful we are, the less accessible we become. So then we are faced with the dilemma of who gets my time and who doesn’t, when do they get it, and and how much of it do they get.”

Hyatt continues, “Your time is a zero sum game. When you say yes to one thing, you are simultaneously saying no to something else. The more successful you get, the more difficult this becomes. You find yourself saying no to good things—worthy things—in order to say yes to your most important priorities.

After all, from the perspective of the one asking, it is not a big request. But to agree to their requests would require a major investment of my time. Add all the requests together, and I am soon eating into the time allotted for my own projects, friends, family, and health.

Hyatt suggests

1. Acknowledge your resources are finite. This is a fact. You have 168 hours per week. No more, no less. Every time you commit to something, you are depleting your available time. Your other resources are also limited, including your attention, money, and energy.

If you ignore this, it will eventually catch up with you. You will pay a high price when that happens—perhaps an emotional breakdown, a divorce, wayward kids, a business failure, or a health crisis.

2. Determine who needs access and who doesn’t. Not everyone needs full access to you. They may think they do, but they don’t. Therefore, you must prioritise your contacts and relationships.

Remember: once you let people in, it is hard to ask them to leave without creating misunderstanding or hurt feelings. Be intentional.”

* * *

“Hold the rope or I will drown.” The call comes to us from in many ways, and from many people.

Questions to ask: Will this person truly drown if I don’t hold the rope, or will they learn to swim? Will they drag me down, or will I pull them up? Is this person willing to change if I hold the rope, or do they want an audience for moaning and lamentation? Am I the only person who can hold the rope? Does God want me to hold the rope for this demanding person, or to cross the bridge to the destiny to which He has called me?

If you feel huge anger and resentment at this rope you’ve been tossed, if God has not called you to hold this rope as your unique call in life, Fail Quickly. Let go!

P.S. They will probably learn to swim, or find the next passer-by to fling their rope to.

See What God is Blessing and Join it (Bono)

By Anita Mathias

I used to pray the way Bono says he did: In countless ways, big and small, I was always seeking the Lord’s blessing. I’d be saying, “Look, I’ve got a new song…Would you look out [for it]. I have a family; I’m going away on tour — please look after them. I have this crazy idea. Could I have a blessing on it?”

However, Bono continues, A number of years ago, I met a wise man who changed my life. This wise man asked me to stop. He said, “Stop asking God to bless what you’re doing. Get involved in what God is doing — because it’s already blessed.

Bono decided to get involved with the poor, because, as he says, “God is always with the poor.”

I believe all Christians are called to be a blessing to the poor–though some of us (I, for instance) may have other primary vocations and callings, and we may be called to bless the poor with our money, rather than with our sweat.

* * *

Like Bono, when casting about for what to throw my energy into, I try to see which area of my life God is already blessing. Where is his activity most evident? In my case, in my growing blog, my activity on social media, and in our family business.

When we are aligned with Jesus, multiplication becomes the norm, just as Jesus fed five thousand with five loaves, and spiritually feeds millions with his broken body.

A supernatural increase which we couldn’t possibly have brought about through our own efforts: I see that as a hallmark of God’s blessing.

* * *

When we decided that Roy should resign from his career as a mathematician, at which he was successful, to manage our small publishing company, I saw a mental image of the river of God rushing and flowing into our family business. Going on in academia would almost be rowing against the stream.

And indeed, the little company has been blessed over our wildest expectations. In the beginning, when we were rushed off our feet, and hugely stressed as the company took off, Roy said wryly, “Well, you got more than you asked, or dreamed of asking!!”

I stared, a bit stunned. Yes, indeed I had. I always lingered over that verse, Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, a bit sadly and not with a great deal of faith, almost as if these things were things that happened to someone else, but me, oh my imagination was so wild that God couldn’t possibly do immeasurably more than all I could ask or imagine.

Seriously, I remember, aged 17, singing “The dream I have today my Lord is only a shadow of your dream for me,” and thinking “Nah, my dreams are so wild, how can that be…”

* * *

Immeasurably more than all I can ask or imagine…there is now a page with that title in my prayer journal, and I pray that, with anticipation.

It’s a good question to ask at the start of a New Year, with all that fresh energy. What is God blessing? Where is his presence and power most apparent in my life?

For me, at the moment, in blogging and writing and business, and that shall be my year’s focus.

And so I cry out like Jabez:

Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request. 1 Chron 4:10.

Now or Never: How our Spiritual Destiny Hinges on Prompt Obedience

By Anita Mathias

“Come follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men. At once, they left their nets and followed him.” Matthew 4:19

At once. That is the operative word. Would they have done it if they had thought about it? Written out the pros and cons? Sought advice? Prayed about it? Wondered if it could possibly be God’s will for them to NOT provide for their wives and children? To abandon the vocation for which they had trained all their lives? And all their assets? To follow someone they had never heard of? With no reputation or references?

No sensible person would have done that.

When we hear Jesus speak, it’s safest to obey him at once. Once we get into wondering if what we have heard him say “makes sense,” we often end up not doing it.

Because why should it make sense to us? God often hands over just one piece of the jigsaw at a time, illuminates just the stretch of the road on which we are to walk.

* * *

Our friend Paul discipled Roy and I over a five year period during which I was struggling with two things–to break the hold of writerly ambition over my heart; and to do my fair share of housework. The former we decided could only be done by laying that ambition on the altar for God to do with what he pleased.

I was most unsuccessful in both these projects. I’d lay my writing down one day; take it back the next day. Be the perfect helpmate and housewife one day. Not do a stitch of housework next week.

I used to send in several typed sheets of homework to Paul weekly. (We studied two courses he had written together–Sonship and The Love Course.)

Finally, he said quietly, “Anita, your insights are priceless. You should publish them. But if you do not obey God’s voice, he will take them away and not give you any more.”

I was silent. And chilled.

And my ability to obey God’s voice, even when it is difficult and costly began to grow.

* * *

Jesus issued his invitation to Peter, Andrew, James, John, Matthew. And moved on. If they dilly-dallied or refused initially, they might have missed the adventure of their lives.

The risk of not obeying what we hear God say, when we hear him say it, is that “later” too often becomes never.

There’s an adage, “God is a gentleman and soon gives up speaking to those who do not hear his voice.” I don’t know if that’s true or not. But if we continually ignore God’s promptings to be kind, generous, or self-sacrificial in specific ways, we harden our hearts, deafen our ears, and train ourselves to shut out God’s voice.

And the greatest risk of often saying “no” is that we can lose our ability to know for sure what God’s voice sounds like. Is that God? Or not? We are unsure.

But the more we obey, the more we hear his voice with crystalline clarity.

“How you know it’s God?” one might be asked. Because I have often heard him before. I recognise the timbre of his voice. His accent.

* * *

I sped-read Living at the Edge the autobiography of David Pytches a few years ago. He had saved money for university, and then, as a young man in the army was lovingly mentored and discipled by an older couple who lived in an abandoned railway carriage, and poured themselves into the young servicemen. He hears God tell him to give all the money he had saved to the older Christian. He does so, potentially giving up his opportunity to go to university.

Later on, David has amazing adventures with God, is instrumental in introducing the Charismatic renewal and John Wimber to Anglicanism, and in founding New Wine, Soul Survivor, you name it. Mike Pilavachi emerged from his mentoring, as did Matt Redman. His own children are key players in the charismatic revival in England.

“Wow,” I thought. “How scary.” What if David Pytches had refused to give away his college money at God’s prompting? What if he had procrastinated? What if he let himself believe he had imagined it?

Then the next time he heard God speak, he could again have told himself that he imagined it, that obeying God in such things was something impulsive hotheads did. That other people did.

He might have left sad so many times that he would no longer know God’s voice, no longer be able to pick up the still whisper from the noise around him.

He would have lost the ability to be absolutely sure that the voice he heard was God’s. Or not.

And so might have missed the adventure of following that voice, calling. Calling him to adventure. As he calls all of us.

Oh, Lord, strengthen my resolve to obey you promptly.

In Which I Discover that my Calling as a Christian and as a Writer are One and the Same!

By Anita Mathias

For many years, I felt guilty about having a calling which was not directly compatible with motherhood, i.e. being a writer.

This guilt was fomented by some well-meaning, and some envious people. Samples: “Well, I love baking, but my children need a mommy more.” “You can write after they grow up. Babies need mommies.” “Don’t put the caboose before the train.” “Trust God to give you time to write after you’ve done the housework and met the needs of your kids.” (All these while I lived in small-town America).

But, oddly, when I don’t write, I am not a brilliant mother or housewife either. I need to go into a room and be quiet and think and create for my own happiness. And if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

I now see clearly that my quest to be a writer and to follow Christ, are one and the same quest. That writing is my path, my calling, my vocation.

When I see Christ in my mind’s eye, when I think of pursuing Christ between the wings of the cherubim, I see a book at his heart. With “The Lord is my light,” or perhaps with “In the beginning was the word,” the current and former mottoes of Oxford University respectively.

For me, diving into Christ, and diving into my calling as a writer are becoming one and the same. Because that is what, inexplicably God called me to be and to do—to write.

And the writing is not an easy calling. For me to write well and prolifically will take dedication, discipline and self-denial.

* * *

Gerard Manley Hopkins writes,

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.

What I do is write; and writing is me. Focusing on my writing is following God’s will for me.

And at the end of my life, I’d love to be able to say, like Jesus did, “I have finished the work you gave me to do,” (John 17:4).