abraham | Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

(The transcript to the recorded podcast meditation is below, here).

Persistent Prayer Turns Christ’s Silence, His “No,” and “Absolutely Not” to YES!

So, a Gentile Syro-Phoenician woman comes to Jesus, crying out,

“Lord, have mercy on me. My daughter is suffering terribly.” But

Jesus remains silent. Undeterred, the woman keeps crying out.

And Jesus snubs her: “I was sent only to the lost

sheep of Israel.” But she can’t believe “No” could be

his final word. “Lord, help me,” she says simply. And

then, a crushing rebuff. “It is not right to take

the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.” But hitting

rock bottom makes your prayers strangely powerful. “Yes,

it is right, Lord,” she contradicts him, “Even dogs eat crumbs

that fall.” Dogs, never entitled, hungry, humble, grateful, happy.

And Jesus praises her dogged faith in his goodness and

power. Her faith catalyses the miracle she longs for. He

says, “Woman, you have great faith. Your request is granted.”

Never passively accept any apparently intractable situations.

Reality is infinitely malleable in the hands of God. We pray,

and people change, circumstances change. We change. So

keep praying until little drops of the kindness of God

soften and change the impossible situation and your heart.

So take your little mustard seed of mountain-moving faith in the

goodness of God, and pray, seeing the kind Jesus in your mind’s eye.

Continue praying, past God’s silence, his “No,” and “Absolutely Not,”

until Christ, charmed, says, “Yes. It’s time! Go, girl, go. This way.”

Dream big and wide like childless Abraham stepping outside,

dazzled by an immensity of stars, and believing God’s power

could give him as many descendants. But don’t waste your

passion and dream-energy. Pray for things that will bring you

joy, yes, but will also bless myriad others, creating something,

in Milton’s phrase, that the world will not willingly let die.

Each of Jesus’s prayers were not answered affirmatively; neither

will each of our requests be granted. We are not wise enough

to know what best to pray for. But prayer, incredibly, does change

things. So keep praying for the shimmering dream which makes

your heart burn and quiver; pray past apparent impossibility until

the heavens open, the Spirit descends, and you live and work

and create with God’s spirit energising and filling you. Amen.

(Matthew 15: 21-28)

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When Sarah snorted, but God had mercy on her, anyway

By Anita Mathias


	Arent de Gelder 1645-1727

Three white-clad men walk out of the desert, out of the shimmering sands. Calm holiness. 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. (And some theologians suggest, the trinity: The Father, Son and Holy Spirit). In other words, 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, all those promises, but you know, as for me, here, in space and time, time is passing, time has passed, and well, I could do with just one child. I have waited so long. I have hoped so long. 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?’ ¹⁴Is anything too hard for the Lord?” (Gen 18: 13-14)

But perhaps the Lord also thought, “Yeah, I get 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. 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. So that they would 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 blown it. Snorting at a theophany! Snorting at Christ and his angels! You’ve lost hope. Bitterness snakes 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 now, at last. “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.

* * *

Sometimes, our dreams seem ridiculously enormous, and it seems very unlikely that they will ever come to pass, 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 verbalise our dreams, we almost snort.

And how can you, Lord, bless someone who has so blown it?

And you see us, you know our frame; you know we are but dust, you have compassion on our flagging faith amid our thwarted dreams. And so though we do not deserve it, you come to us; you bring the destiny you have promised us to pass, though it may not look like what we had dreamed of. Seeds beneath the desert soil burst into desert flowers.

You give us the fruits of your promise, whose name is laughter. You enjoy the pun, artist that you are, transforming our snort of sceptical laughter to laughter like a running brook.

On Absolute Surrender. Killing “Isaac” for God’s Fullest Blessing.

By Anita Mathias

The angel of the Lord called to Abraham from heaven a second time ¹⁶and said, “I swear by myself, declares the Lord, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, ¹⁷I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, ¹⁸and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed because you have obeyed me.” (Gen 22 15-18)

I loved Rabindranath Tagore’s Geetanjali as a teenager (and see no contradiction between his lovely poems, and Christian thought. He could just as easily have been a Judeo-Christian poet). Here’s a beautiful Tagore poem on the blessings of surrendering everything to God.

I had gone a begging from door to door in the village path, when your golden chariot appeared in the distance like a gorgeous dream, and I wondered who was this King of all kings!

My hopes rose high, and I thought my evil days were at an end. I stood waiting for alms to be given unasked and for wealth to be scattered on all sides in the dust.

The chariot stopped where I stood. Your glance fell on me, and you came down with a smile. I felt that the luck of my life had come at last. Then all of a sudden you held out your right hand, saying, “What have you to give me?”

Ah, what a kingly jest was it to open your palm to a beggar to beg! I was confused and stood undecided, and then from my wallet I slowly took out the least little grain of corn and gave it to you.

How great was my surprise when at the day’s end, I emptied my bag on the floor only to find a least little grain of gold among the poor heap!

I bitterly wept and wished that I had the heart to give you my all!

* * *

Ah, in my own life, surrendering things to Jesus has indeed been magic. Peace has come; worry has diminished; the burden of having to achieve is lightening.

I have an amazingly productive friend, Paul, a writer, in full-time Christian ministry. For him, surrendering to Jesus was not without pain, but became addictive, a lightening of the load. He told me how, once he had done it, he would find himself at the bus-stop, thinking about areas of his life which he still “owned” and saying ‘Take that, too, Jesus. Take that.” I do something similar now, and find joy in it.

* * *

For me, surrendering is a freedom from worry. In big things and little things. For instance, we bought a motor home from Sussex, 3.5 hours away. When we got it inspected, we paid someone to go and check it out, but gave in to laziness and did not join the mechanic. We were recently told that there is damp in the motor home, which has been there for a while.

I am sad, and could worry, could freak out, but God provided the money to buy the camper van through blessing our work, so it seems ungrateful and foolish for us to be worrying about it. So I am just releasing it to him, and praying that it lasts 10 years as I want it to, and if not, that he provides us another one.

Or another example: Zoe, our older daughter, is studying Theology at Oxford. And, now, ungrateful me, I am focusing on the best university for our bright younger daughter, Irene, 16, who has a year to go before University admissions. Nah, my heart cannot bear the weight of that intensity and worry. I need to release it to God, and know that his love for Irene will remain in full flood, wherever she goes to her first choice University, as is very likely. Or not.

* * *

I went on a retreat to the Harnhill Centre for a Christian Healing, and received excellent prayer ministry. While there, I read Desert Harvest, the autobiography of the founder of the Harnhill Centre, an Anglican clergyman, Arthur Dodds.

Arthur Dodds reached a turning point in his ministry after attending a John Wimber Signs and Wonders Conference. As did Peter Lawrence, the vicar-husband of a woman on staff. As did David Pytches of St. Andrew’s, Chorleywood, and John and Ele Mumford (leaders of the UK Vineyard, and parents of Mumford and Sons).

John Wimber breathed the Spirit into England and Canada, through the Toronto Airport Fellowship (now Catch the Fire) and he didn’t even live in these countries.

* * *

One of the striking aspects of Wimber’s life was his absolute surrender to God. I’m spare change in his pocket; he can spend me any way he wants, he’d say. His surrender was cemented by his period of manual labour, cleaning out oil drums, after surrendering his career as a highly successful and well-respected musician.

When I consider how fruitful Wimber’s life was, how marked by miracles, it increases my desire to give Jesus everything. To surrender it to him, and to see his magic unfold.

Heck, it’s his already, of course. As is everything I own. Like Job, our possessions, our family, our health, our mental health, our livelihood can all vanish.

What surrender does is a voluntary placing in God’s hands of what is already his–like small children buying you a present with your own money.

For me, it would mean putting my blog, my writing, my career, my health, my future, my finances, my home, my garden, my possessions,my friendships, my marriage, my husband, my children and their future into his hands, to take what He gives me, and give what he takes from me cheerfully.

That was Mother Teresa’s definition of holiness. “Holiness is giving what he takes from us, and taking what he gives us with a big smile.”

I have so often failed in this. Been angry at what was taken from me through my own errors, or other people’s uncaring or malicious actions. Sulky at what was given me, when I wanted an entirely different life.

Absolute surrender would deal with the sulkiness when what we want is taken, or when we are not given what we want, or are given what we do not want.

* * *

How do we get to absolute surrender? We can do it all at once as Wimber did, and Oswald Chambers did as detailed in David MacCasland’s Abandoned to God.

Or we can do in increments, as my friend Paul appeared to have done. Step by step, handing him the things we fret about about, our worries and ambitions. “Bless our plans, oh Lord. Make them succeed. And if they do not, it will in no way diminish our love for you.” I hope I can say that. Yes, I believe I can.

And in that surrender is blessing and fruitfulness. Isaac was Abraham’s son until he was surrendered to God. And then, in the act of surrender, Isaac became God’s son and the spiritual and actual ancestor of the Judeo-Christian peoples. The surrender enlarged Abraham’s destiny, and Isaac’s. What a good bargain surrendering to God was! For Abraham. As it will be for you and me.

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

By Anita Mathias

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?’ ¹⁴Is 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.

The Secret History of Hagar: When God Invisibly Comforts the Oppressed

By Anita Mathias

Image: Tissot, Hagar and the Angel in the Desert

Hagar, Egyptian maidservant of Sarah, has a hard life. Impregnated, basically raped by Abraham, she is bullied and persecuted by a jealous Sarah—so much so that probable death in the desert feels preferable. (Genesis 16)

And in the desert, the runaway slave, with only the clothes on her back, sees the Lord.

And she returns to her mistress, who is “very wealthy in silver and gold, sheep and cattle and male and female donkeys, menservants and maidservants and camels.”

The rich get richer; the poor get poorer. It sure seems as if Sarah has won and Hagar has lost, doesn’t it? Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

* * *

It is Hagar, not Sarah who sees “the Lord who sees me.” It is Hagar He advises. Hagar is promised not only life, but descendants too many to count. She goes back to Sarah, under the Lord’s protection, bearing his promises.

And Sarah knows nothing of this. Her maidservant has returned, that’s all she knows.

“What is essential is invisible to the eye,” Antoine St-Exupery wrote.

Our secret life with the Lord determines our happiness, and the course of our lives. It is, however, invisible.

* * *

I love the Bible, and I love teaching it. Last year, as I led a Bible study I said, “Ask and you shall receive,” “Give and it shall be given you,” nothing radical or reactionary, just word for word from the Sermon on the Mount. An academic in my group challenged me, “You say that because you live in the West. What about the starving people in Africa?”

And I asked, “Do you think everything Jesus said would not be as true and as valid in Africa as in Oxford, England?”

And an older, wiser woman, who has been to Africa on mission, numerous times, said, “Our African brothers are SO generous, and they have nothing.”

I am silent.

So are the righteous forsaken in Africa?

* * *

I am convinced that the same Gospel, the same promises are true for the world’s poorest as well as the world’s richest, but I am silent, because unlike Heidi Baker, who knows from experience that the same Gospel which is true in Southern California is true in Mozambique, I have not yet worked with the poorest people in Africa (though I have worked with the very poorest in India, with Mother Teresa, full time for 14 months, and hung out a little with the poor in Cambodia).

Hagar, the loser, ran away and came back starving. That’s what Sarah might have thought.

But the truth was that Hagar had been comforted by the pre-incarnate Christ himself, had received his promises, had returned at his command, and under his secret service protection.

We cannot say the Gospel does not work for the poorest because we do not know their secret encounters with God, the way he comforts him, the tenderness with which he looks at them, what he promises them in this life, or beyond. Certainly the way Christ looked at Hagar was so profoundly moving that that became her name for God—“ Lahai Roi. You are the one who sees me.” She is content to return to slavery and abuse because “I have now seen the One who sees me.”

God sees. God knows. At a difficult patch in my thirties, I was mentored by Lolly Dunlap. Discussing something difficult she went through, or I was currently going through, she would say, “God sees. God knows.” And sometimes, as it was with Hagar, that is enough. We are seen by the One who sees us. He has things in hand. He will bring about a kind of justice. The promises to Hagar mirror the promises to Abraham, “I will so increase your descendants that they will be too numerous to count,” (Gen 16:10).

* * *

The apparently forsaken Hagar has seen God, received divine consolation and a divine promise. She returned to abuse, strong in herself. Her eyes had seen God, and were watching God.

It comforts me. There is so much suffering in the world about which I can do little or nothing, so many stranded starfish on the beaches, gasping for the ocean.

Christ comforts us in our afflictions, and sometimes most deeply in our afflictions,

Father and Fondler of Heart Thou has Wrung

Hast thy dark descending and most are merciful then,

Gerard Manley Hopkins writes.

And, perhaps, most probably, just as he has his dark descending of comfort and mercy to Hagar, and to us, so too he descends to all the wretched of the earth.

* * *

At an Oxford party last week, I was talking to a World Vision Jerusalem worker, and mentioned I had been to Israel during the intifada in 1990. He said, “Oh, that was the easy time. The treatment of the Palestinians by the Israelis is profoundly disturbing now. It’s very cruel.” He described it. I was in shock, in tears, in the middle of that 60^th birthday party.

Can I do anything about it? Well, yes, a little because I know Someone who can. Lahai Roi, the God who sees: Please comfort those children of Ishmael.

Other situations sadden and disturb me. The treatment of the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, some of whom have been waterboarded 183 times in one month, and put into inhumane and humiliating stress positions for prolonged hours.

Those in North Korean prisons

The women flogged under Sharia law.

The Indian and Filipina domestic workers in the Gulf, who have their passports confiscated, work long hours, are physically and sexually abused, and are often not paid.

Bonded labourers in India whose debts are transferred from generation to generation at exorbitant interest.

Slaves in Mali or restaveks in Haiti among the 21 million slaves in the world.

The Afghani single women and widows forbidden to work by the Taliban who become almost catatonic in their depression.

Lahai Roi, God who sees, comfort them. Intervene.

While we do need to share our money wisely, (the Biblical suggestion of sharing 10% with priest, widows, orphans and aliens is a good one) and raise awareness, and pray, it is some comfort to me that not a sparrow falls but his eye is on it. Not a human suffers, but his eye is on them. And how he comforts them, what he whispers to them, what promises he makes to them, we do not know.

* * *

Hagar was neither a Christian nor a Jew, but her plight did not escape the eyes of the benevolent one who saw her. She went back to slavery and abuse apparently unaided, but, in fact, having had a secret encounter, received secret comfort and bearing a secret promise.

And the same God looks on the 21 million languishing in slavery, with the same blazing eyes of love and comfort. He sees. Perhaps he speaks to them in their hearts…

And so we commend the Hagars of this world to his protection, because we cannot do a whole lot more, because as we trust him in our afflictions, we must trust him in theirs, and pray that he will wipe every tear from their eyes, in this world, and in the world to come.

Amen.

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

By Anita Mathias

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?