Climbing Everest

One Sunday, not so long ago, our vicar prayed for people who were struggling, those for whom putting one foot in front of the other was a major achievement, actually or metaphorically. He likened it to the gargantuan challenge of climbing the world’s highest mountain and all the strength and determination that takes.

Scripture tells us that God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness, but accepting our weakness and allowing ourselves to lean into God is often almost as big a challenge as the mountain we have to climb. It is a grace that those who have suffered deeply or long have embraced and out of this can teach us much if we are willing to listen, we who have yet to walk this path.

Snowdon 2014 ©Adam Thomas Steer

One of my goals as I reached my half century was to climb Snowdon, Wales’ highest peak. I trained beforehand as I am neither very fit or outdoorsy and felt I was in good shape to tackle the task I had set myself. I had the right boots, walking poles, enough water and snacks, warm clothes… However, as in all of life, there are unknown factors and I had not anticipated a rock that tilted under my feet when we were not even halfway up, causing me to fall and cut my shin quite badly.

Suddenly the mountain seemed so much higher and more arduous and the question of failing became a real possibility. Without the encouragement of my family and the support of the poles, I would never have made it, and was reduced to counting off hundreds of steps as I approached the summit.

So we reached the top, climbed the cairn and could see absolutely nothing! The mountain was shrouded in cloud and the mid August temperature had dropped to minus one making me very glad to have my gloves.

Of course, once at the top, we had to come down again and I was really hobbling by then. With my two younger children, I opted for the longer, shallower descent while the others went back to fetch the car. I honestly could not have done it without the children cheering me on, and the glimpses of the panoramic valleys below us through the clouds as we descended.

I’ve reflected a lot about this adventure in the years since, as it has shown me a life lesson or two. Though I had a spectacular bruise and swelling, my injury and pain was temporary. It was a shortlived experience of others’ much longer journey.

I also reflected on the mountain top experience, so different from the Instagrammable photos of sunshine and spectacular views that we subconsciously absorb and somehow expect. But how many people arrive at the top of their mountain battered, bruised, exhausted or empty? Too tired to appreciate the moment, unable to see what they have achieved, dreading the ‘what next?’ of the descent. Those sunshiny mountain top experiences are wonderful and to treasure, but we all come down eventually, leaving only what we’ve learned and a memory.

Nydri, Lefkada, Greece © Adam & Carys Thomas Steer

When there is no view from the top, all you have is the journey and what you take from it. I learned to persevere when I wanted to give up, to accept that putting one foot in front of the other took me one step closer to a goal that seemed almost out of reach. I learned the value of people around me to help and encourage me on my way, and I learned the value of preparation and training (I definitely would not have got to the top without my walking poles).

God was with me on that walk, as He is on the journey of my life with its mountains and valleys to cross.

Let’s pray for those struggling up their own mountains of loss, or pain or suffering, illness, loneliness, depression and all those other challenges life throws at us, some more than others it seems.

Snowdon was my Everest that day but there have been and will be other symbolic Everests to climb up and come down. Let’s climb in our weakness, alongside the One who is strong and perfect.

Meganisi, Greece, 2022

Though my sins be like giant hogweed

Last weekend we visited the Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden near Ockley in Sussex. We have been before and love the combination of art nestled into this peaceful and beautiful natural setting – a real expression of how God invites humankind to join him in creativity.

However, on our way round I was distracted by stands of giant hogweed towering over us. This is an invasive species originating in Central Asia that is part of the family of plants that includes carrot, parsnip, parsley, cumin and coriander. It looks like oversized cow parsley with enormous jagged rhubarb-like leaves and was introduced as an ornamental plant in the 19th Century but has colonised in the wild, especially around rivers and streams where the moving water transports the seeds.

However, the sap of the giant hogweed can cause burns and make the skin oversensitive to sunlight, sometimes doing lasting damage. You need to avoid touching the plant and if concerned seek medical advice. There is a definite health warning attached to this plant.

Despite all this there is something strangely fascinating about giant hogweed, something that stayed in my mind and started a thought process.

When you’re as old as I am and have been a follower of Jesus for many years, the chances are that you are living a ‘good’ life, you don’t kill or steal, you may well have developed a respect for your elders that may have been lacking in younger days when you knew it all, you don’t commit adultery or visit dodgy websites and you’re generally pretty nice to the neighbours. Sin may figure differently in your day to day life. Sometimes I go to bed unsure if I have anything to confess. This may be as much a result of my appalling memory as my daily activity, and this is where the hogweed speaks to me.

The sins in my life are just as invasive and after all these years are established and deeply rooted. Sometimes the weeding out of other vices has given them room to grow. The things that are impeding our relationship with God may not even be things that we would immediately identify as ‘sins’. They could be distractions, small shifts in priorities or things we withhold from God. They may look extremely attractive, but prove to be overly captivating to the detriment of other things that would actually be more healthy and life-giving.

I am reminded of my childhood when we constantly pestered my Mum for bought cake. The pinker and sugarier (is that a word?) the better. My Mum made delicious cake, with better ingredients and I cringe now at how we must have hurt her feelings in search of a tasteless, nutritionally poor sugar rush.

I’m often very selfish with my time and value my freedom too highly. I struggle to commit to things that I know are better choices. There are things that are too important in my life and distractions that suck hours and life out of me.

Do I see these sins as destructive invaders that are damaging me and have no place in my life? Do I see them as part of my landscape, one that cannot be changed without major effort in prayer and training, or do I see them with a sort of enthrallment that holds me in fascinated captivity, vaguely recognising the evil but somehow, like watching the snake’s eyes in the Jungle Book, unable to tear myself away?

Uprooting such established sin is not the work of a moment and needs specialist skill and equipment. So the presence of our Father the gardener, the intercession of Jesus and the healing work of the Holy Spirit are vital in clearing and replanting in our souls. We may also need the comforting presence of a Spiritual Director, a confessor or a very good friend alongside us as we begin the process which may take some time.

There are also practices that can help us alter ingrained habits. As I’ve mentioned before, these are usually practices not directly aimed at stopping the habit, but in building new behaviours and attitudes – the principle of indirection – indirectly changing us through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Facing up to ourselves isn’t easy and we need to be kind to ourselves so that we can make this a constructive rather than destructive experience. Remembering why and for whom we are doing this will help. I love Psalm 51 and find its words encouraging and helpful:

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness;  let the bones you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity.

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

Another lesson from nature

Little Frensham Pond

I had the privilege and joy of spending a couple of days at RSPB Minsmere last week, enjoying the spring weather and seeing birds familiar and new as they build nests and raise their chicks.

However, the thing that struck me as much as the excitement of seeing a kingfisher catch a fish, or a bittern wheel in flight on front of me, or five marsh harriers hunting at once was the glorious soundscape that embraced is as we walked. From the elusive cuckoo calling, a sound I had not heard for years, to the sedge warbler imitating other birds, the incessant cries of gulls and the mew of the avocet, our ears were blessed with a symphony of birdsong and I simply couldn’t get enough of it.

It struck me that we talk about watching birds and count our sightings but make little of those we hear. We saw the cuckoo not at all, and each had the merest glimpse of a Cetti’s warbler, but we were serenaded time and time again across the marsh by this shy little bird with a huge voice.

Southern marsh orchid

I wonder if this somehow mirrors our life with God? Are we so fixed on ‘seeing’ that we forget to hear? Or vice versa. Are our expectations about how we live life with God too entrenched, leaving us to miss out on blessings and lessons we could receive if only we were more aware and open to a different approach?

All I can tell you is that we found equal blessing in the sounds as in the sightings at Minsmere and it’s made me more open to wondering if there’s something God wants me to notice that I didn’t initially see in other parts of my life.

RSPB Minsmere

He is risen!

Happy Easter friends, as we celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, may you know the hope embedded in this day, today and always.

When Jesus walked out of the tomb, early on that first Easter, I wonder how he felt? A new day, moving in his new Resurrection body, Jesus had been involved in a cosmic battle that changed everything irrevocably forever. And yet he came back to a place and time, a world where it appeared nothing much had changed. There was still death, tears, poverty, pettiness and downright evil in the world around him. I imagine the resurrected Jesus must have been able to see the bigger picture better than we can, knowing that there was real truth and real victory and real hope even as the world moved on.

The thing that struck me this Easter time was the way that Jesus dealt so generously with individuals – taking time for them – from asking his disciple to care for his mother while hanging on the cross to reintroducing himself to Mary Magdalene in the garden, Jesus worked on an individual level, touching people where they were.

There’s a story about a little girl on a beach full of stranded starfish, throwing them back into the sea one by one, because each effort she puts in makes a huge difference to the starfish concerned.

Jesus asks us to do the same. Every time we do something for ‘the least of my brothers and sisters’ we do it for him. The big picture is often to big and too hard; few of us can effect change on a global scale. We cannot address climate change, but each time we walk instead of drive, or fill our reusable water bottle from the tap instead of buying another plastic bottle we make a tiny difference. We cannot remove global poverty, but sponsoring a child the the two thirds world or giving a sandwich to a homeless person makes a little bit of positive difference, not only to the recipient, but to the people around them, which may have more impact than we ever dream. It also leaves a trail of breadcrumbs for others to follow.

Maybe the little girl on the beach came with her family, who could also pick up starfish, and be seen by others on the beach who could follow their example, and suddenly the impact is multiplied.

Jesus simplified the commandments down to two main principles: Love God with all of you, and love your neighbour as yourself. Sometimes loving God seems a difficult, distant thing, and on those days starting with loving your neighbour can bring you back to God through simple acts of kindness, learning from Jesus’ example.

Jesus didn’t just make a way for us through the cross. He also set down a way for us to live, day by day, until he comes again, when we will finally see the big picture and his Kingdom is ushered in, in its glorious entirety.

Jesus is risen! Hallelujah!

A joined up story

One of my favourite verses in the Bible is in Mark’s gospel describing Jesus “He has done everything well” (Mark 7:37). The people were referring to the healing Jesus was doing in their area, but this was only a small reflection of the complex and beautiful pattern of God’s Kingdom.

Today we celebrate Palm Sunday, when Jesus triumphantly enters Jerusalem on a colt, lauded by the people, cheered and praised as they spread their coats on the road and waved palm branches. What a scene! Such a spectacle! It must have drawn crowds from the sheer noise and exuberance of the celebration. People welcoming their King! Even if half of them didn’t really know what they were there for, inevitably celebrating crowds attract others, (you only have to see the streets of a city when their football team wins a trophy – far more gather for the parade than ever visit the stadium).

What must it have been like for Jesus? Finally people seemed to have caught on that he was the Messiah and were celebrating. The atmosphere was up, the praises were ringing out, it would have been easy for the man Jesus to be carried away with the celebrity status he was being granted at that moment.

But Jesus was well prepared. His time in the desert trained him, his regular get together with his Father grew him and he knew exactly what he was doing on Palm Sunday as he rides into the city. This was the fulfilment of prophecy written long ago, preparing Israel for his coming. He had already told Satan during his temptation that he didn’t need the adoration of others, that his relationship with God was paramount. He knew who he was and is, and what he had to do.

So much so that when he is criticised by the Pharisees he tells them “if they [the disciples] keep quiet, the stones will cry out”. Jesus knew exactly his place in the universe. Creation recognised him even as the Pharisees were blind.

Dallas Willard writes about “off the spot training” meaning the preparation we can do in our lives so that when the moment comes we can bring that training to the fore. It applies to medics, athletes and anyone who needs to perform under pressure, and it applies to us as believers. Peter was still in training as he betrayed Jesus, he was not yet will enough prepared to act under intense pressure, yet he persevered and became someone who could act “on the spot” in ways that glorified God over and over as we see in the book of Acts.

If Jesus needed to spend time preparing and being with his Father, how much more do we need that same discipline and nurturing?

As the Bible is an arc of God’s love for creation and the fulfilling of his plans, so each story is never a stand alone message, but is woven into the bigger picture, a properly joined up story of God’s plan to bring us into his Kingdom.

“Behold, he does all things well.”

Real Alcazar, Seville

Counting my blessings and a meandering train of thought

We sang an old song in church this morning. It sounded as if it might have been a Sunday School song, but the truth shone out from the words, underlining thoughts that have been swirling round my head since the war started in Ukraine.

Count your blessings, name them one by one, count your blessings see what God has done.

The war has brought me back to basics, reminding me to thank God for things I so often take for granted, but which have been removed from many Ukrainian people in the fire of a few guns – hot food, hot water, a peaceful night’s sleep, the security of my home….

It made me wonder how good I would be at counting my blessings in their shoes, yet in each life there must be something to be grateful about, even if it is obscured in the fear and deprivation of the present moment. It made me realised how temporary so much is, that we see as solid and permanent.

I am praying for unexpected blessings for those in Ukraine in the midst of such horror and hardship, that discouragement will not set in, that the conflict will cease, that there will be many moments of kindness, neighbourliness, compassion and grace that cannot be numbered, and will be remembered in the story of this conflict.

The song goes on ‘when you look at others with their lands and gold, think that Christ has promised you his wealth untold. Count your many blessings, money cannot buy your reward in heaven, nor your home on high.’

It made me think of Vladimir Putin, whose pride and greed has started this war with no thought to eternal consequences and no compassion for earthly ones. I pray that God’s brightest light will penetrate the evil surrounding the Kremlin and within his soul and that the love of Christ will somehow enter his heart and those of the people that surround him so that there will be an end to this madness. As the song continues… ‘God is over all’. Nothing is impossible with God.

I’m also conscious that there are many other wars raging in the world, some orchestrated by Russia, others far away, and that these are not remembered in the same way, and certainly don’t hit the headlines, or fade away forgotten… Yemen, Nigeria, Ethiopia, Myanmar – the list continues.

I also feel uncomfortable that we are more willing to welcome European refugees than those from further afield and wonder whether colour has something to do with it? How do we explain to those fleeing the conflicts in Africa that they are far less welcome than the (also deserving) Ukrainians?

I heard a beautiful open letter this morning on BBC Radio 4, precious, meaningful words from a lady who survived the siege of Sarajevo from the perspective of one who lived through the awful daily reality and held onto the hope of better things, sending her encouragement to the beleaguered citizens of Ukraine.

Today I am remembering with more clarity how fragile life is, how ethereal is the security we surround ourselves with, and how peace is something worth fighting for. Lord, have mercy.

More on darkness and a return to Psalm 23

A few weeks ago, I wrote about how life seemed rather dark and how I was searching for a light in the gathering gloom. In the course of this waiting and seeking and wondering about the dark place I was living in, I went back to one of my favourite Psalms – the 23rd, which has proved such a haven in the past.

I love these verses, they bring comfort and peace, but as Trevor Hudson exhorted in a recent sermon, we should be looking for the unfamiliar within the familiar; God is so good at revealing something new in the most well-known of passages of Scripture and He was faithful once again.

In verse 4, the writer tells of dark periods in his life: “Even when I walk through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.” (NLT)

What struck me was that when we are in a dark place, and cannot see the way ahead, God can use other ways to help us know He is there. We were created with five senses as well as having knowledge and feelings, and although the darkness often seems to suck out all joy, and muffle the senses, we can learn to notice and become aware of the wide range of imaginative ways in which God comes alongside us in our trouble.

God’s rod and staff metaphorically touch us, and keep us on the path, even when we cannot see a way ahead. We can know that God is close beside us, even if we can’t feel His presence, and that can alleviate our fears.

photo by Diane Bolduc

In other parts of the psalm, we can feel the comfort of lying down in peace in green pastures, be refreshed by cool, still water, know the relief of restoration of our souls.

We are anointed with oil, and invited to a banquet of good things, more than we need. We taste and see that God is good. Sometimes this has to be intentional and sometimes it comes as an unexpected gift.

We can think back over all the good things that God has given us, and the times we have known His presence with us throughout our lives, as well as looking forward to more of that goodness and mercy even in the midst of our darkness.

We can hear his promises, and cling to them, listen to stories of his faithfulness to others and trust that He wills everything for our good, however hard that is to see at the moment.

We can choose to praise Him, despite everything, raising our hands and voices in telling of God’s goodness.

Let’s not let the darkness swallow us up or cling to our disappointments. Let’s use our senses to see God’s goodness in the world around us, through sound and touch and taste and smell, as well as sight. Let our minds dwell on His promises, his attributes and His beauty. And let the true Light shine into our darkness as we trust Him for the future that He knows even when we don’t.

The light round the corner at the end of the tunnel

It’s been a bit of a dark time recently. I’ve been musing about what to do in the dark. The optimist will tell me that there is always light at the end of the tunnel. The cynic will tell me the lights are only from a train coming the other way. Tunnels are definitely not somewhere to stay – they are meant for passing through from A to B, on our way somewhere, we plunge into the dark in order to avoid having to navigate steep, inhospitable hills or mountains that would pose a different set of problems, we are not meant to get stuck in a tunnel, they are inhospitable places. If we decide not to stop, we only have two choices: go back to where we came from or keep moving forward, one step at a time. Though the tunnel may seem endless, and the light still not visible, each step will take us closer to that pinprick of light in the distance, and eventually to emerge into full light on the other side.

‘Keep on keeping on’, I think the phrase goes, and the one good thing to hold on to is that I am never, ever alone in the dark. Even if I can’t see my hand in front of my face, I can trust that God is still with me.

The honeysuckle hedge

On these summer days, even the wet ones, one of my daily joys comes as I hit the first slope and enter a world of heady fragrance, the unmistakeable scent of honeysuckle in full bloom.

Even when it’s wet, I only have to move closer to an individual bloom to inhale the wonderful perfume.

It reminds me to live in the moment. I can only smell the honeysuckle at this point on my journey. There isn’t any more elsewhere. I can choose to enjoy it at that moment, or march past and ignore what is there for my blessing.

The same with the eucalyptus further up the road, or the flowers in a garden, or a bird crossing my path.

In the same way I can only encounter God at this precise moment, or choose to do life without him.

Living each moment with God is an available option to everyone but I so rarely choose to avail myself of this gracious offer to be with him!

The still small voice that tells us ‘I am with you… Will you be with me?’ I’m becoming more aware of the offer, and more baffled as to why I don’t choose it more, and I’m taking that as progress.

Do you know a giant?

At the front of my copy of The Divine Conspiracy on the dedication page, is an inscription ‘In those days there were giants in the land’.  It is a quotation from Genesis 6:4 and in full reads “There were giants in the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of men and they bore children to them.  Those were the mighty men of old, men of renown” (NKJV).

Buttercup meadow near Dorking, Surrey, May 2021

Throughout the ages, God has raised up metaphorical ‘giants’ to guide and inspire us. Scripture recounts their deeds, while remembering their flaws so that we are not intimidated by them.  Church history also tells us of the lives of the saints (with a small ‘s’ as well), those who grew into close relationship with God and who He worked with in remarkable ways to impact the lives of others.

Dallas Willard could be described as a ‘giant’ who opened my eyes and those of many others to new and helpful ways of seeing God and learning to live in His Kingdom. C.S. Lewis is another whose grasp of language and imagery has woven pictures that encourage me to explore further and think harder, and there are many others whose influence spreads far and wide, beyond their geography and lifetime.  They are giants indeed.

Then there are the living legends.  In our culture of celebrity, and this includes the church, we have to be careful with those we put upon pedestals, so that we do not break them with their own humanity and failings.  We are harsh with those who we deem to ‘fall from grace’.  Fortunately, God is bigger and more forgiving than many of his followers and can redeem such fellow travellers whose gifts shone brighter for a moment, but not without damage and fallout caused by the tongues and actions of others which will need extensive healing.

Sculpture by Rick Kirby outside Woodbridge Quay Church

There are also less visible giants.  Those who live in our neighbourhoods, attend our churches and simply live out their faith in love for God and others.  I am blessed to have such a lady in my life.  She would not call herself a giant, indeed she is perhaps one of the most self-deprecating people I know, but not in a negative way.  She is realistic about her education and achievements in a church which places high value on knowledge, but she knows God and her bible, and more importantly, lives out the words of Jesus, reaching individuals and meeting them in their real lives.  Hospitality is a given, encouragement from her comes in the form of little notes or a phone call, all kinds of generosity come naturally especially the gift of time, and I always feel listened to, loved and closer to God when I have seen her.

She certainly doesn’t know she’s a giant, which is the way God works best with people.  His glory shines through her and her life glorifies God.  But she is….

There are others I have met who are well on their way to gianthood.  We can give thanks for them, learn from them, pray for them, but never, ever tell them, because they simply would not know what you were talking about.

It’s just another example of God’s upside down Kingdom. Do you know a giant?

Photo by Ali Male, Cornwall 2021