| The Lent Blog |
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As Pancake Day dawns and Lent is just around the corner, I wanted to share something I did a couple of years ago, a blog through the weeks of Lent where I explored a different kind of fast and the impact it had on my life and faith. I hope that the fact that I'm a Christian has not been hidden from you, but I also know that, aside from the odd comment here or there, or the quote in my sig, it hasn't always been obvious.
One of my reasons for staying in this community and taking part in it is simply to be a Christian voice in a online community, and this, perhaps, is my chance to express that. I hope it will spark some kind of discussion about Lent or Easter from both a secular and religious point of view and I will be asking you some questions at the end, so feel free to comment in between the blog posts. So, without further ado, let me take you back to Ash Wednesday, 2014... Shriven to Distraction: Some thoughts on Lent.
Lent is always a funny time of year for the modern Christian. Suddenly, indeed, almost out of nowhere, non-Christian friends, colleagues and relations are all talking about what they intend to give up as part of this traditional Christian period. "Coffee!" one might cry out, or just as commonly, "chocolate!"
"I really want to cut down on sugar." "I need to stop smoking." For so many Lent is, like New Year, a time to look at our lives and try to make them better for ourselves by eradicating bad habits or unhealthy lifestyle choices. Some, finding the annual sacrifice of vending machine chocolate to be superficial, seek to 'take something up', to start doing, or to do more of something they consider to be virtuous in some way. Thus everyone seems to agree that Lent is about nothing more than self-denial and self-improvement. Don't get me wrong. These are not, in themselves, bad things to do and, indeed, if you do not believe that our existence extends any further than the physical 'self', perhaps there is no need for anything more. Lent is a nice (if at times difficult) thing to do once a year, both as a tradition and as a piece of mental and physical spring cleaning, and it comes with an overture of pancakes, so what more could one want? I find Lent to be completely unsatisfying. I have proven my ability to live without (amongst other things) chocolate, coffee and computer games for a set period. Great! Achievement unlocked! Now what? At best I got a small sense of accomplishment, at worst I was driven to distraction by the lack of something I was fond of. There was never much more to it, even when I tried to make there be. There was a key word in there, however: distraction. I'll come back to it in a bit. Firstly I want to get back to what Lent is supposed to be about. The word Shriven in the title is a clue. It's part of the same verb - 'to shrive' - as the 'shrove' in Shrove Tuesday, otherwise known as Pancake Day. Now I love Pancake Day. It's such a great opportunity for eating really good food and is especially fun when shared with friends. Last night we managed an improvised main course involving minced beef, tomatoes and spices, followed by traditional lemon and sugar pancakes and one awesome Nutella and marshmallow specimen, which will definitely be repeated in the future. Fun though it was, however, Shrove Tuesday is not really about pancakes. 'To shrive' means to confess, so rather than stuffing myself with pancakes, what I should have been doing was admitting all that is wrong with my life. (These are not entirely mutually exclusive activities, by the way, so pancake eating may continue). Why? So that I can then make a list of those things, followed by an action plan with SMART targets, complete with dates for review (first one: Easter)? As the Apostle Paul was fond of saying, by no means! My confession isn't made to myself or to a counsellor or even to a friend. It is made to God, admitting to Him that I am not all I should be, that the things I do are in rebellion against Him, hurt Him, and are destructive to me and those around me. I am a bad man. I do so many things which can hurt people, belittle them, devalue them. I don't do so many things I could do to help them, build them up, love them. I do not honour God as I should, not with my whole being and I act as a poor witness to an unbelieving world. I think things which make me ashamed - there is a dark being here beneath the surface. But wait! You're possibly starting to get the impression that I'm deeply unstable and filled with self-loathing by now. Stop! You're wrong. What I am is a realist, and one with a clear picture of where I stand before God and what I'd be without Him, besides I'm reasonably sure you're about as bad as I am. "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). Because of Him, I know that the picture I painted above is not the end of the story, but let's not have any spoilers just yet. What's next? Well, the day after Pancake Day is Ash Wednesday. Ashes have long been a symbol of repentance (like sackcloth and ashes for example). Repentance is turning away from something, in this case, from all those things you've confessed are wrong with your life. How is that different from the action plan and the SMART targets? Christian repentance is not just turning away from all we get wrong - sin - but turning towards God. We recognise two things: one, we can't fix ourselves, not completely, and in attempting to do so we're really only ignoring God and so adding to our sin; two, God is the centre and purpose of all existence and it is right for us to seek Him and devote ourselves to Him. In repenting, we look to God to help us overcome sin and we build a relationship with Him. This should be the focus of Lent, indeed the focus of all human existence, turning towards God, getting to know Him more, loving Him and worshipping Him. Lent, then, is a period set aside for being back to basics with God before we reach Easter, the commemoration and celebration of Jesus' death and resurrection, which, if it happened as Christians believe it did, is the defining event of history for all humanity and worth preparing for. But it's difficult to find time for God. Our very nature ('the sinful nature' in Paul's letters) is opposed to doing it, and the world is full of distractions. It always has been, but it seems that there may be more distractions in our modern media-filled world than ever before. Almost all of us are on some sort of social network, which we check regularly. We watch TV box sets, carry millions of books on e-readers or tablets. There are few these days who do not carry a smartphone with which to access all this information at any time. I'm writing this post on one now! Information - good, bad, cute, ugly - is everywhere and we feel compelled to keep up with it and to add to it, making a busy day so much busier. I know I'm guilty of this. I read on the bus or on my break in work, I check my phone compulsively, post thoughts on Twitter, check for reactions on Facebook, watch DVDs whilst feeding my daughter in the morning, play computer games in spare moments, look everything up on Wikipedia, and on and on and on. These things are not necessarily bad, indeed much good has come of them and will continue to do so, I am sure. What it is, however, is very, very distracting, and if God really is the centre and purpose of the universe, then we may be so distracted as to miss the point entirely. So, this Lent, I'm trying something different. I'm giving things up, certainly, and I'm taking things up as well, but it's all being done with a very clear purpose in mind. I want to detox, if you will, from many of these distractions. I'm giving up reading fiction and watching boxsets in the morning, because these things, more than any other, tend to define my day. Instead, I'm reading books on theology and Christian practice and listening to sermons, with a view to focusing on God and, above all else, actually listening to Him. Now, I know I'm blogging about this and I intend to keep doing so throughout Lent, but it's not to look super spiritual and make everyone else look bad. This is not about me, or you, but about God. The reason I've chosen to blog it is threefold: as a witness to those who know me but don't yet know God; as an encouragement to fellow Christians who might want to do something similar (and an opportunity for them to help encourage me - I might need it) and as a way of focusing and recording my thoughts during this period, so that, if I learn anything or grow spiritually at all, I just might not forget it. So, it's Ash Wednesday, Lent has begun. I'm currently reading 'Meditation and communion with God: contemplating scripture in an age of distraction' by John Jefferson Davis and listened, this morning, to the Reverend Dominic Smart talk about Song of Songs. I'm feeling positive, a little scared and hopeful that, in all of this, I won't miss the point again, but will meet with the one true and living God, my Father, saviour, friend. Here goes... So, that was part one. I'll post the rest throughout the Lent period. But first, do you regularly give up things for Lent and, if so, why? Are you giving anything up this year? Perhaps you're taking something up, instead? Perhaps, as a non-Christian, you do something similar at other times for other reasons: New Year's resolutions, maybe, or for other religious reasons, like during Ramadan? Why not share the meaning these things have, or don't have, for you? I'm not giving up anything as dramatic as fiction this year. That was definitely a one-off, but, as you'll learn if you continue reading these blog entries, it was a fairly profound experience at the time. This year, however, I'm just giving up snacking during work (a big problem) and trying to refocus myself to spend more time in prayer and read my Bible daily, as it can be a struggle to find the time and energy and I don't do it enough. Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
So, yeah. Good talk.
 Okay, so I don't know if anyone is really following this or not, but I'm going to keep posting these old blogs on Lent and if you want to join in the discussion, feel free. Here's the second one, anyway, originally posted on Saturday 8th March, 2014 Fiction, Lies and Parables
So, there was a lot I wanted to say in my last post and I think I got the majority of it onto the page, but there are still some important things I wanted to talk about in more detail. Foremost of these in my mind the last few days has been the place fiction actually plays in my life and thinking, why I thought I should give it up for Lent and yet also why I believe it is a really important part of human experience and something Christians should be less dismissive of and more participatory in than they often are.
Firstly, an update on how my Lent had progressed so far. For three days I have successfully avoided reading any fiction and have spent my mornings feeding my daughter to the dulcet tones of my minister preaching on Song of Songs and Luke's gospel. I have been reading and enjoying John Jefferson Davis' 'Meditation and Communion with God' and have spent a good bit more time aware of the presence of God in my life. I have not, however, had much time to do any actual meditation on the word of God, or spent much time in prayer and my daughter's current feeding habits have often distracted me from the thrust of the morning message. (She has taken to wriggling, flailing, screaming, spitting and pouting rather than taking her milk in an orderly fashion - I wonder if she misses the TV being on?) Any free time I have had has been taken up with other distractions like sleepiness and procrastination. The sinful nature exerts its presence once again. But there have been encouragements. As I said I have been more aware of God's presence this week, which had affected my behaviour to some degree. I've been less afraid of telling people about my faith as well, going so far as to be accused (light heartedly) of being a Bible basher yesterday evening. I've also seen unexpected fruit from my previous blog post, with evidence of others being encouraged and a sense of having been part of something God has been doing this Lent. I hope that can continue because that's the real point, isn't it? We participate in God's mission and, at the same time, we participate in the divine nature, being in communion with the Father and the Son through the Spirit dwelling within us. Though it's sometimes hard to believe (and harder still to remember after we've experienced it) it does not get better than that. I pray that God will continue to reveal himself to me throughout this Lent as I try to focus more and more on him. But how about you? Are any of you doing something special for Lent this year? How's it going? I'd love to hear about it in the comments (assuming they are working...) and add them to my prayers also. Now: fiction. Fiction has always been a big part of my life. For a long as I can remember I have loved stories and have taken whatever opportunities I could find to stretch my imagination, acting my favourites out and starting to craft my own. This is something I've never really grown out of, and whilst some would suggest this kind of imagination is childish and that we should put such things behind us as we mature, I'm reminded of C. S. Lewis' succinct commentary on 1 Corinthians 13:11. To paraphrase, whilst he agreed that we should cease to be childish, one of the ways we do this is in no longer trying to be so grown up! Besides, Paul was using physical maturity as an analogy for spiritual transformation and he did not go into specifics about such things as childlike imagination. Paul himself was one of the most imaginative writers of the New Testament. Yes, he was writing about genuine spiritual realities, but they were still things unseen and which we may use our God-given imaginations to get our heads around. Paul was very skilled at this and his imagery and analogies can help us a lot to understand the spiritual transformation we have undergone as Christians. So, fiction and imagination have been a huge part of my life. From books to comics, films to TV series, video games to the stories I write myself, I have continued to surround myself with stories, to the point where my mind is saturated with them. They help form how I think, how I relate ideas, one to another. Some of this is good: it gives me a set of tools to help me understand God, the world and other people; but it can also get in the way. It can be a huge distraction from God at times and it can affect my priorities. I'd been thinking about this for a while but found I was really not eager to give up any of this (such things are never easy, after all) and I was convinced that God wanted me to stay in touch with this side of my life for various reasons. Besides, it seems to me that it is a huge part of who I am. But my identity is in Christ first and foremost, and whatever God's plans for my imaginative gifts and sensibilities, it's clear that I need to seek Him first. This is the crunch point we all must hit from time to time. The difficult part of being a Christian - recognising when we're wrong and God is right. So I saw Lent coming and realised this was an opportunity to break some habits, reassess them, and attempt to focus on God as I ought. But does that mean fiction is bad? Have I given it up forever because it was a serious problem? I don't think so. How I approach it has to change, but that's because how I approach God has to change. It's a paradigm shift of priorities, not a condemnation of fiction itself. "But isn't fiction a frivolous thing?" you might ask. People do, especially of genre fiction, my personal preference. One Korean student that I once met was particularly sceptical, wondering why I would want to experience any other reality than the one God had laid before me. Whilst there is an element of escapism in fiction (not that that is necessarily a bad thing, in my opinion - all enjoyment we have is a kind of escapism from the corrupting effects of sin in the world, a glimpse of God's good gifts) I don't think that is its only or even primary purpose. I believe fiction, in any form you might find it, to be one of the most powerful tools the human mind can use. With it we can manipulate reality for others in ways which are not otherwise possible, and so we can open up whole other avenues of experience, even worldviews. "But isn't it just another way of lying?" A Christian writer friend of mine once wrote "let me lie to you" in the introduction to one of his works, having qualified it with precisely why he thought you should. Good reasons all! I now believe he was wrong, however. He wasn't lying in his story at all. Fiction is not inherently a deception, benevolent or otherwise unless it is presented as truth. Otherwise, it is merely an act of creation, an expression of that part of the image of God in ourselves. How else to explain the Parables? Jesus was not telling true stories, complete with those oh-so-irritating 'what happened to them all afterwards' bits which, of necessity, accompany every 'true' movie ever. No. The Parables were not direct retellings of actual events, nor did his audiences think they were. They were made up stories, told with intent, to make a point. Jesus was not lying by telling them, he was expressing truth through fiction, through imaginary images (based in reality though they were) that he had created for the purpose. That, I believe, is fiction at its most perfect, most sublime, as is to be expected of the Son of God, but humans now are creating beautiful things all the time, with varying agendas and purposes. Some of it is dangerous and we do need to use our discernment, especially when recommending it to others, but there is much of it that we can learn from even if we don't endorse the end ideas. I find this especially true in the worlds of science fiction and fantasy. The Church has never really embraced genre fiction (to the extent it has embraced any fiction at all). Indeed, many Christians have been told to avoid it completely, often for the reasons outlined above, or because of misconceptions about what the stories are actually about. As a consequence, more and more genre fiction is being written by those with a non-Christian, even anti-Christian agenda! Despite this, genre fiction is becoming increasingly mainstream and has embedded itself into popular culture. Its ideas are seeping into the public consciousness, but since it often discusses concepts like human destiny, religion, philosophy, meaning and purpose, then it actually offers us a starting point for talking to people about these things - much more so, in fact, than a lot of traditional fiction and even more so still than most people's everyday experience in the West. What I'm saying is this: we are missing an enormous opportunity by dismissing this stuff outright. We should be engaging with it, arguing it with the people who love it and creating it so that the secular messages aren't the only ones out there. It is for this reason that I don't plan to give this up indefinitely, though I would hope to return to it with a different sense of priority and purpose. I am also still writing fiction at the moment, even though I've stopped reading and watching it because I believe I'm exercising a gift God has given me. I need to practise and I have readers for whom giving up would not be a good witness, but rather a lack of consideration. My writing is a long way from fulfilling the purposes I've listed above, but there are glimpses, I think, and God always shines through the cracks that are left open to Him. My prayer this Lent then, one of so many, is that I'll grow in Him and, with the Spirit within me, will get a bit closer to his intent for these gifts. That's all for today, then. Go well, however you're approaching this season, and may God complete in you all His purposes for your good. Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
I've never looked at parables in that way... while I never looked at them as true stories, it never occurred to me that they were works of fiction.
And, even if I don't post, PLEASE keep this thread up. I am reading, and getting your message  Sent from my phone using Tapatalk. So typos may be a'plenty...
"...if you're normal, the crowd will accept you. But if you're deranged, the crowd will make you their leader." - Christopher Titus
Deranged in NS since 2011 One and ONLY minion of LadyRebels The OUTRAGEOUS CRAZY other half of LadyElysium
Interesting thread. I have no strong religious views, but I am Anglican christian. That being said, coming from a half Greek family I still celebrate some of the Greek traditions. Two Easters mean twice as much chocolate. ;P
John Hills- President of Ausstan
So, another week, another Lent blog. But before we delve back into the murky past of 2014 (which seems a lifetime ago, right now), I should say that this year's Lent has been a complete disaster. I've demonstrated very little willpower whatsoever and have given in to most of what I said I would give up (and then some...). This is concerning, because, whilst it reminds me of my own weakness and need for humility, it also points to my failure to rely on God. Next week we'll be looking at Failure, but even in this week's blog, I find much that I said nearly three years ago resonating with me, bringing back memories of a time when I was closer to my maker. I long for that now, and pray that I can return there soon.
Anyway, the 2014 time machine is whirring up so let's hop in and [zap!] Meditations on the Abyss
Having spoken about what Lent is, why I wanted to do something different for it this year, why I have chosen to give up what I have given up (and taken up that which I have taken up) as well as including a brief defense of fiction in general and my own personal exhortation for Christians to engage with it more on a number of levels, I find (and you may find this shocking) that I have run out of things to say for the time being. Since blogging more is kind of part of this Lent challenge (if you want to call it that), however, I can't just give up there, at the first hurdle, any more than I can give in the moment I find myself bored and in want of a well-written story!
So, in an effort to keep the ball rolling, here I am again, but fear not, this is not just a placeholder for something more meaningful. No. What follows will be a brief report on this Lent so far (as seems de rigeur), then there will be a book review (non-fiction, obviously) and, finally, some thoughts related to the topic of that book. Hopefully, it will be helpful and/or encouraging for someone other than myself. So, how has Lent gone so far? At the time of writing this update, we are at the end of week one and, as far as 'achieving goals' is concerned I have not broken my Lenten commitments. What has happened, in fact, is that I have expanded them, boldly(?) cutting out more distractions that I wasn't sure I could remove at the start. (Then again perhaps I am merely adding further boundaries to this personal Law like some kind of modern-day Pharisee, who knows?) I am now watching no fictional television at all (which pretty much means no TV) and have committed to playing no video games either until Easter. The reasons for this are that, especially in the case of TV, it felt like only half a commitment, which is no commitment at all, and I found that, in the more difficult moments of restless silence, I was tempted to turn to that which I hadn't given up to replace that which I had, and not to God, very much defeating the object of Lent. So, it's all out until Easter, but what about the 'insteads', the things taken up? With more time in the morning, I find I can listen to a sermon whilst I feed my daughter, then spend some time in prayer and meditation on Scripture after some breakfast (as an empty stomach is a terrible distraction in itself ). This is remarkable for me, who has always found it difficult to make time for these things, at least partly out of a lack of desire. Now it can still be tough (falling asleep mid-meditation is a risk) but the time is there and I can feel the prompting of the Holy Spirit to make use of it. It helps, also, that an encouraging friend gave me a book of prayers and devotions (A silence and A Shouting by Eddie Askew) to work through, which I then follow up with a fragment of Psalm 139 (actually the first passage used in that book) to mediate on slowly. This is difficult, but I am persevering, the latter especially in response to having finished reading John Jefferson Davis' Meditation and Communion with God: Contemplating the Scriptures in an Age of Distraction, which was both a challenge and a wonderful encouragement. It begins by setting out the case for 'rediscovering' biblical Christian meditation in this post-modern age and follows with a reasonably detailed and easy to follow theology of meditation, focusing on the ideas of the Kingdom of God being 'already' (but also 'not yet') here, our union with Christ and a focus on Trinitarian thinking. This was all brilliant stuff, and it really helps to focus your thinking, so the fact that only the last chapter deals with the practical element is easy to forgive. At this point, any Non-Christian readers may be asking something like "Christian meditation? But, isn't it a Buddhist thing?" or assume I've gone all new age, complete with incense and pictures of Angels everywhere. It is not and I have not, so I'll now do my best to explain. Meditating on the Scriptures has been part of Jewish and Christian worship and spiritual living for thousands of years. It involves the slow, careful, repetitive and prayerful reading of a short passage (or group of related passages) of Scripture, usually for a prolonged period of time. It involves focus and concentration with the intent of drawing closer to God, learning from Him, becoming like Him and worshiping Him. The title of this post (ironically from an episode of Babylon 5 - I've always loved J. Michael Stracynski's episode titles and revel in an opportunity to reuse them) was chosen because unless all the above is done with faith that God is present and will listen, with the right frame of mind, due reverence and a right relationship with God (having been united with His son, Jesus Christ), then that is all such meditations will be: the abyss lies open before you and you will not be able to see God there. This is a fundamental point of difference between Christian meditation and many other forms, especially those found in Buddhism. You meditate on Scripture, not to empty yourself, but to fill yourself up with it. You meditate, not to seek a state of perfect nothingness, but to find a relationship, a conversation with the triune, inherently relational God. My own efforts at meditation are minimal as yet and I've only been trying for a couple of days, but even so there is a benefit in the mere repetition of Scripture. I find myself thinking about it during the day, remembering God's presence with me and, most surprising of all, looking forward to trying the search again tomorrow. Not that God needs found, or that our relationship depends at all on these things that I have done, and yet I must seek, for that shows a heart willing to find, and I must prepare myself, for that shows a heart willing to change. These are mysteries, something we often shy away from as Christians, especially in apologetics, but they are a part of the unknowable aspect of a God who, nevertheless, chooses to reveal Himself to us, out of love. We should ponder them, wonder at them and adore God accordingly. Having finished Meditation..., I'm now reading A Fine-Tuned Universe: The Quest for God in Science and Theology by Alister E. McGrath, based on his 2009 Gifford lectures, some of which I had the privilege to hear. As a theologian with a background in the biological sciences, McGrath is something of a hero of mine and I've wanted to read this book for ages, but there was always another story catching my attention. It is good to have the time to read it now. And Lent goes on... Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
I mentioned last week that I had managed to break my Lent. Well, look here, it seems I managed the same thin in 2014, if for different reasons, and behold, I had something to say about it. Imagine that!
I haven't really returned to all aspects of my Lenten observance this year, and I'm struggling to keep up with Bible reading, but I'm perhaps in a better place than last week and I think that reading and editing these posts as I go is a great encouragement to me. I hope they might be to you also. The FAILblog
Failure. There's a word that's sure to dampen your day. Even with the humorous connotations associated with the word FAIL these days (such as that promoted by the site referenced in my title), phrases like "You failed" and "You're a failure" hurt. They hurt a lot.
We don't like to fail and we don't like to think about or talk about failure unless it is someone else's. Then it becomes a piece of tragic drama we can watch unfold in fascinated sympathy, or a mean-spirited comedy designed to make ourselves feel better. But we all fail, whether we'll admit it willingly or not (and of course we might be magnanimous enough to admit it generally, yet never specifically) and so failure is an important part of human experience. I'm here today to talk about my failure and to explain why it is so important to recognise and yet so ultimately irrelevant (from the right perspective). What is my failure? I broke my Lent this weekend past. There are two common attitudes to such an admission. The first is to say, 'oh well, it doesn't really matter' and to either give up or to carry on as if nothing had happened. The second attitude is to treat it as something very, very serious, to beat oneself up about it, get depressed and then to either give up, feeling a failure, or to carry on with the sense of tarnished accomplishment. Both of these attitudes are wrong and I will explain why shortly, but firstly, how and why did I break my Lent? I was away over the weekend visiting family. It was the first opportunity for us to take our daughter over to Northern Ireland to see my side of the family. For me, going back over to Northern Ireland is a little like an act of mental time travel. I return, not only to where I am from but also, in some senses, to what I was like. You see my family do not live in a manner particularly similar to the way I live now, in a number of ways, and, though I love them all dearly, they are (mostly) not Christian. So, when I visit my parents, I can expect the television to be on most of the day. When I visit my brother, I can expect there to be a film playing on his (enormous) screen. It is a world filled with distractions of the kind this Lent is supposed to be an escape from, and whilst much of what was on TV at my parents was the usual daytime assortment of house auctions and holiday horrors, there were also soap operas, hours of them (and I don't even like them) and the temptation to watch that which I enjoy. I actually broke my Lent several ways, and whilst I can list the reasons for all of it (TV on all the time, not wanting to be anti-social by leaving the room, unable to focus on theology/bible because of distractions, etc.) these are, at best, just excuses designed to hide the more basic truth - I am a sinner, and, if given enough opportunity, I will turn away from God. It wasn't my family's fault, in any way - what they were doing was not wrong - it was all mine. This is perhaps best summed up in my attitude to my quiet times over the weekend, which hardly happened at all. Why? Because I didn't want to do them when other people were around, because, I suppose, I was a little bit ashamed of it in front of non-Christian family members. To put this in perspective, for those of you who are not Christian yourselves, imagine a situation where a friend who you care about a great deal suddenly starts ignoring you in public and you realise that it's because they are with their family. You understand that they are ashamed of you, or their relationship with you, or something about you and they don't want their family to see. How hurt would you be? How angry? We do this to God all the time, in a thousand different ways, by not loving Him as we ought, not obeying Him as we ought, by side-lining Him, focussing on things less important than Him, by thinking that spending a few minutes every Sunday offering lip-service to Him is going to be enough to get us into Heaven - completely ignoring any aspect of relationship or response to the things He has done for us. How would you feel, if you were Him? Putting ourselves in God's shoes (so to speak) is a very good way of dismissing the rubbish attitude that God is there just to make us feel better, or that, 'if there is a God, He should just let us all get on with it'. People never stop to consider how God feels, because, I suppose, it never occurs to them that he might feel anything at all. Well, God is hurt by His wayward creation, because He still loves us, and wants the best for us, which is Him. Our desire to do our own thing, turning away from Him deliberately, or out of neglect, is the very essence of Sin - the ultimate failure - and it's what keeps us from being complete humans, with a right relationship with our Maker, and the rest of creation. It's for that reason that we cannot just dismiss our failures, no matter how small - they are killing us! But, of course, this is not the end of the story. The Christian gospel begins with human rebellion against God, but it ends with a sacrifice made by God to atone for that sin - Jesus, the Christ, crucified by the Jews and the Romans in first century Palestine - and a risen, conquering hero who has defeated sin and death and to whom we may be united in spirit. That means our failures, our sin, can be forgiven, because God looks on the Christian and sees Christ. We are adopted by the Father of all creation and let off because the punishment that should have been ours has already been dealt and upon one who is utterly innocent, utterly perfect. What does this mean for our response to failure as Christians, then? Firstly we admit it, confessing our sin before God. Secondly we repent, turning away from the wrong things we have done with all the sincerity we can muster (God knows we're pretty rubbish at this too - it's notable that Jesus, who was without any sin, still undertook John's baptism of repentance at the start of His ministry, once again doing for us that which we can never do as we ought). Thirdly we ask for forgiveness and accept it as a free gift from God. Finally, we respond in love - and that means loving obedience - to our heavenly Father. In the case of my broken Lent, that means carrying on with what I set out to do initially, putting aside distractions and earnestly seeking God. How is that different from the two 'carrying on's I listed at the start? Well, it's all about the attitude of the heart. I don't treat my failure as if it didn't matter because it does - it's a rebellion against the Father who loves me and who sent his Son to die for me - but neither do I beat myself up about it. God has forgiven me in His infinite grace and mercy and wants me to move on and serve Him. To wallow in misery, self-pity or self-loathing, would only be to sin again, ignoring all that Christ has achieved for me! So, I returned home and returned to the pattern I had set out at the start and I bask in God's good grace and his inexpressible - inconceivable - love for me, returning just a fragment of that love - never enough, but striving to be more. Until next time, go well and God bless. Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
So, I forgot to post this on Tuesday, sorry. Very little pre-amble right now, but I might have more to say next time.
Insecurity [Grace] Identity
Another week of Lent, another blog. I thought, in fact, that I had run out of things to say and, since I have not yet finished the book I'm currently reading, I didn't even have a review I could muster to fill this (admittedly irregular) posting schedule. As always seems to be the case at the moment, however, something occurred to me - I would suggest 'was given to me', but I don't want to claim any authority I do not have - and I realised I have another post in me after all.
But first, the usual update: no fiction consumed, several more sermons listened to, prayerfulness increasing (ish), a greater knowledge of God's presence gained, an increasing eagerness to talk about faith and issues surrounding it growing within me... This isn't to say, however, that it has been easy, or that I haven't struggled with the temptation to break my Lent, or skip a Bible reading opportunity; nor is it to say that all the positive fruit seen above abound every moment or even every day. Sometimes this feels very stale. Sometimes God still feels distant. Sometimes I just don't care as I should. This is, sadly, normal for humans. It shouldn't be, but then that's why we need God's grace, which brings me neatly to my topic for today - or it will be seen to have done, by the time I have reached my conclusion, because we'll start, as we almost always do, not with grace, but with a moment of human weakness. I'm part of a group of young men in my church who are working together, under the oversight of our Minister, to learn and to improve our preaching skills, or rather, handling the Bible in a number of different, public ministries. Part of this has involved doing a three-week stint of leading the morning services - welcoming everyone, introducing hymns, praying and generally aiding in bringing the congregation worshipfully before God. I have not yet done this, ostensibly because of the birth of my daughter and the time commitment having a small baby entails. One morning this week, however, when the minister mentioned it to me and noted that it might be difficult to find a block for me with my Sunday School commitments, I let slip the real reason: "Also, it's terrifying!" I said. Now, standing up in front of people is always going to pretty scary, I understand, but as I contemplated this afterwards, I realised it wasn't, primarily, stage fright that I was suffering from, but a much deeper insecurity about church leadership. I don't feel like I'm qualified to lead a congregation of Christians in anything. Now, putting aside for a moment the relevance of a concept like qualification with regard to Christian ministry, why do I feel this way? I think there are a number of factors involved, and if you'll forgive me going on about myself like this (I'm the only person I know well enough to use as an example, after all), these are the ones I think are the biggest issues: 1) I'm acutely aware that I don't come from a Christian background and, despite the fact that I became a Christian when I was only eleven, I didn't really get heavily involved in a church community until I moved to Aberdeen to go to university. Even though that was over eleven years ago now, I still feel rather new to this. 2) I have a somewhat more liberal approach to faith and politics than many of my brothers and sisters in the congregation. I'm still very much an evangelical, and newspapers would happily label me as a conservative Christian, but I also believe that the church should not try to legislate the lives of non-Christians and so take a back seat at times in some of the more controversial debates of the day. 3) I have a scientific background. Even before I became a Christian, I thought myself to be a kind of scientist and used that as an excuse not to listen to what my Christian friends were trying to tell me about God. Once I was on the other side, however, whole other issues came up, most notably the ongoing Creation vs. Evolution debate, which hit me hard, and left me feeling rather lonely, during the evolutionary biology parts of my Zoology degree. I have since reconciled science and the Bible to my satisfaction (mostly), but I still feel a sense of separation from many I worship with when I wonder how they'd feel about my position on these issues. 4) I am a geek. I love sci-fi and fantasy, video games, graphic novels, and so on. I've kinda touched on this before and it might not sound like much of a barrier, but in my mind, knowing that I don't share the secular interests of most of the rest of my fellowship further adds to my sense of myself as 'outsider'. Ignore, at this stage, whether or not I might be right about any of this and just imagine how I might then feel to lead any group of Christians in worship, prayer, or studying the word of God and you begin to see what kind of terror it is that I've been experiencing. But if you're one of the people who have been shouting at the screen by this stage you'll already see why I need a radical change in my perception of the situation. All of the above presupposes several things: 1) That all kinds of spiritual leadership require qualifications beyond a saving faith in the triune God. Yes, there are helpful theological qualifications and there are gifts and talents bestowed and developed in the believer by God, but if He sends you, then you go. Many Biblical figures questioned their fitness to be leaders when God called them (Moses is the typical example) but God didn't call them because of their fitness, He called them because He knew what He would do with them and that it was good. 2) That personality traits, political views, scientific understanding, matters of conscience, hobby choices, intelligence quotient, imagination or lack thereof and any number of other supposed identity markers matter in the grand schemes of the Kingdom of God. Yes, we're all individuals, and yes what makes us different is both a part of God's gloriously diverse creation and a cause of no small amounts of frustration and strife between believers, but neither the believer nor the church acquires its identity from any of these things. Our identity is found in our trinitarian God: God the Father, Jesus Christ His Son, our Saviour and the Holy Spirit, our comforter, counsellor and advocate. The Church is united to each other and to Christ and that means we can put aside our differences in his presence when they would threaten to separate us. 3) That it really matters what others think of me. Given the above two points, I need to keep reminding myself that though others' opinion of me can affect my witness and leadership, it should certainly not hinder my attempts at it, especially within the church. I do not present myself but point to God. If someone doesn't like the way I do that or some other facet of my being, all I can do is keep pointing to God. "Don't look at me, " I must shout, "look at Him!" And this brings me back to the start of all this, the thing that holds all those points together, and which should be foremost in our minds when we deal with other believers. God's good grace. It is by grace that we are saved to be united with Christ as part of His Church, by grace we are called to serve and, by grace, given the gifts to carry out that calling. There is nothing of us in that save what God gave us in the first place, for we are His creatures, His children. And we must try to treat other believers with that same loving grace, knowing that it is at work in them as in us and whatever our pasts, personalities, politics or pastimes, we would not even be in the Church without the grace of God. There but for the grace of God go I, after all. And so to my terror. It is wrong. It is a sign of a lack of trust in God, of an insecure and worldly way of thinking that has no place in a life lived in Christ. I must put it behind me and step up to the calling that has been made, to the increase of God's glory and the diminution of the self. I know what I need to do, I just pray for the courage and commitment and, above all else, the grace - all from God - to carry it out. Until next time, go well. As a postscript, you may be interested to know that, once I'd written that blog, I e-mailed it to my minister with a TL;DR which read something along the lines of: 'Consider this my way of saying, 'book me a slot right away.'' I've lead services and taken long Bible studies many times since then. It has never been easy and, it has to be said, the service-leading and especially the prayers, often leaves me feeling a strange sense of loneliness and vulvernability, which is more than a little emotionally draining, but I know, from the feedback I have received, that people have found my leading to be immensely helpful and that is a truly humbling thing to discover - that God could use you, tremulously weak though you are, to further another's walk with him. Next time (in a couple of days, in fact) we'll look at imagination and I hope to write more in the present about my own spiritual struggles, for which editing this old blog has proven both a comfort and a stark reminder of how much I have still to grow. See you there! Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
While I'm not religious, I'm really glad that you find this season to be an opportunity for introspection and self-improvement. Our individual beliefs (or lack thereof) aside, it's always a good thing to think of where we are in life and what we could do to become better people, both to ourselves and to others, and if Lent helps you give a special focus to that, all the better. :)
Former Delegate of the South Pacific
Posts outside High Court venues should be taken as those of any other legislator. I do not participate in the regional server, but I am happy to talk through instant messaging or on the forum. Legal Resources: THE MATT-DUCK Law Archive | Mavenu Diplomatic Archive | Rules of the High Court | Case Submission System | Online Rulings Consultation System
For reasons I can't quite explain (as in, I personally find them inexplicable) I seem to have fallen behind with sharing this old blog, so expect the next few entries to appear in rapid succession. Tonight, we look at the idea of Imagination with respect to the Christian faith.
Imagine
Another week, another blog and, once again, I though I found myself with nothing new to say when a post began to form in my mind. This time it's on the back of having just finished three books: A Fine-Tuned Universe: The Quest for God in Science and Theology by Alister E. McGrath, A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis and then back to McGrath with Heresy: A History of Defending the Truth. Three very different books, all of which left me with plenty to think about and which (along with my previous read on meditation) have had me wondering about the role of imagination in the Christian faith. I hope to explore that question a bit later on.
But first: the books! McGrath's [Fine-Tuned Universe is a book about looking at Natural Theology (traditionally what we can learn about God from what He has revealed of Himself through nature) in a new way. McGrath calls for an approach where we no longer seek to prove God's existence using Natural Theology, but whereby we recognise the way in which Nature reflects or 'resonates' with a Christian, Trinitarian worldview. We don't look to nature to prove God, whom we believe in through Scripture and personal experience, but we see that Christianity may offer the best explanation for what is observed in Nature. He examines the theological implications of this and then looks at some relatively recent developments in cosmology, physics and evolutionary biology which, he argues, can be seen in this light. As a whole it is an approach which really appeals to me, indeed, though I might never have verbalised it as such, or been able to explain it very clearly, it is much the way I have always approached nature, but McGrath solidifies it, grounds it in science and uses Augustine's doctrine of creation as a way of suggesting how our growing understanding of the life, the cosmos and the emergent, stratified nature of reality can be reflected theologically. It is fascinating stuff. I did have a couple of problems with the book, however. The first was that it was very inconclusive. McGrath intended it to be the start (or very nearly the start) of a theological and scientific conversation, so it sort of leaves all its ideas hanging, waiting to see who picks them up. Another issue is that it doesn't have a huge amount of scriptural grounding. This is common in Natural Theology in general and whilst it's clear the 'Trinitarian worldview' McGrath is talking about is scripturally based, he doesn't actually demonstrate this very often. It also results in the single most frustrating aspect of the book, which is his exploration of Augustine's doctrine of creation, which Augustine based, not only on Genesis, but also on a verse in Ecclesiasticus, one of the apocryphal texts not recognised as authoritative by the majority of the (Protestant) Church. Whilst the Apocrypha is another issue entirely from the one the book was about, McGrath fails to mention this as an issue at all, which seems a little incomplete. Aside from these (mostly tiny) niggles, however, it is an excellent book and one well worth reading if you have an interest in the places where theology and science meet and wish to expand your imaginative understanding of the Universe. More on that in a bit... A Grief Observed by C. S. Lewis is a very different kind of book. It is a short diary by the great writer and Christian apologist, written in the days, weeks, months after the death of his wife from cancer. It is astonishingly honest, angry and moving, yet also clear, with a precision of thought and analysis rarely seen in such moments. Through it, Lewis appears to understand more about his grief, his humanity, and, above all else, God. It's a book which, as soon as you start reading it, you realise must be important in some way and, indeed, I would recommend that everyone does. It is phenomenally well-written, brutally honest and yet so well-thought out by the end. I don't think I can review it further without repeating myself (again). Heresy: A History of Defending the Truth, is a very different book from A Fine-Tuned Universe and yet McGrath's particular style and some familiar arguments manage to rise to the surface as you read it. Much like the former book, it feels rather inconclusive, but what you do get is a very good overview of some of the major heresies of the classical 'patristic' era and some sound criticism of a number of theories on how heresy originates and whether what we know as Christian orthodoxy has any right to be so. In doing so it challenges some traditional Christian views, such as the idea that heresy always originates outside the church, but at the same time, post-modern approaches are also shown to be indefensible. Heresy is not a liberating alternative to a repressive orthodoxy, but the spiritual equivalent of an evolutionary dead end in the exploration of the best way to express Christian belief. One finishes the book with a profound sense that Christian orthodoxy is to be defended (if continually developed), not only because it is the best model of life and faith for the Christian, but because it is also the most intellectually coherent, satisfying and exciting vision of Christianity. McGrath finishes with a call for theologians and practising Christians alike to exercise their intellects and imagination in presenting this truth to the world, which has been led to believe quite the opposite for a number of social, cultural and historical reasons. McGrath's approach to theology is one of intellectual excitement, rather than spiritual development, but from reading his works (and listening to him) I'm reasonably sure of his saving faith in Jesus Christ. His very academic approach is a function of both his personality (which is similar to my own in at least this respect) and the context within which he works, but his appeal to the Christian imagination at the end is one which I think we all need to engage with, which brings me to the meat of this post... Imagination. The one thing all three books above have in common, aside from the fact that I chose to read them (and simply because they were there, on my bookshelf, rather than because of any other particular agenda), is that they each make appeals to the human imagination in the way they look at our Faith and the world around us. McGrath calls for the use of the Christian imagination in how we look at and respond to the natural world and the sciences which explore it, as well as in how we look at our theological orthodoxy and relate it to the world. Lewis demonstrates the power the imagination has to deceive us in our understanding of both God and those we love, but equally that it can be transformed by our faith to help us know God and others more clearly. I have touched on this topic before, of course, in my defence of fiction and its ability to be used as an explanatory, analogical, allegorical and inspiring tool for exploring the ideas of life and faith, but that's not all the imagination is used for and so this is a look at the Christian imagination as whole and why we should spend more time developing it within our fellowships. Imagination is frowned upon by a number of Christians and this is seen to be something mirrored outside of the Church as well. Imagination is something children have, an element of play. It is not something which a mature adult should spend much time worrying about. I commented on this attitude before, citing C. S. Lewis' response to such thinking. This time I shall quote him more fully: C.S. Lewis Wrote:Critics who treat 'adult' as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.But as I said, there is more to the human imagination than its power to create and be absorbed in complete fictions. The imagination is also a very necessary part of our rationality. We do not simply use our imaginations to think of things that are not, we also need to use it to explore ideas that are, but which we cannot perceive with our usual range of physical senses. The best example of this can be seen in the modern sciences, which are often exploring elements of the natural world which can be observed and recorded using various pieces of technology - things which most assuredly do exist - and yet things which the human eye cannot see, the ear cannot hear, the fingers cannot touch and manipulate, and so on. Scientists, however much some might baulk at such a suggestion (though I'm sure most would not) must use their imaginations if they are to understand such phenomena better, determining how they work and how they relate to other such phenomena. Equally, Philosophy and Theology have engaged with the human imagination for thousands of years, exploring concepts which are real, but not tangible, which can be conceived of, but not seen. The idea that the imagination is a fanciful, even shameful thing, seems to be a more recent one, tied together with the increase in fantasy fiction since the nineteenth century and, before that, to the puritan reaction against fiction full stop. So what does it mean for Christians to use their imaginations? I cannot claim to have a comprehensive doctrine to hand, nor can I cite much in the way of Scripture to help develop one. All I can say is that Christians need to use their imaginations to see the connections between what they believe and the reality they see, as well as to expand those notions to see how they relate to what others believe and how best to share that testimony with them. This can, of course, involve our creative gifts, given to us by God to exercise for his glory, but it can just as easily be used in how we explain our faith at a purely theological, spiritual or experiential level. Romans 12 verse 2 says this: Romans 12:2 Wrote:Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will his - his good, perfect and pleasing will.Paul is talking about a spiritual transformation which enables us to see the world in a profoundly Christian way, but just because it is a spiritual process does not mean it does not have physical applications. Seeing the world itself is one such application, how we think about the world and how we process our understanding of it are similarly physio-chemical processes in the brain. The spiritual and the physical are not - as the Greek metaphysical worldview taught - completely separate realms, but interacting realities. Our spiritual transformation affects us physically. What Paul is speaking about, then, involves a transformation of our thinking minds - our rationality and our imaginations. McGrath mentions this several times when proposing his new approach to Natural theology, suggesting that the Christian vision of reality is a transformed one and one which allows us to see the world in a certain way. That doesn't just extend to the natural sciences, but to all areas of life and ultimately even to how we view our faith itself. So, I'm not suggesting we need to invent theologies or visions of God to pass on to others, but we must use all of our minds as much as all of our hearts, strength and souls when we love God and the transformed Christian imagination is very much a part of that process. We should not stifle it, but within the guidance of scripture and the Spirit, let it help us explore and express our beliefs and the wonderful deeds and personality of our gracious God. Until next time, then, go well! Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
So, we're onto the penultimate entry of this Lent blog (although I have a bonus one to share after Easter). As you'll soon see, it ought to have been posted days ago. Sorry about that.
Passion
We're into the final week of Lent.
It's hard to believe that Easter is so nearly upon us. I think of what it felt like to begin this journey and I wonder if I'm the same now as when I began, or if there has been some transformation, however small - an evidence for the Spirit. I incline towards the maudlin, the pensive, the contemplative. Easter can do that, but I go through these cycles, these whirlpools of excitement and disappointment, of hope and despair, of intent and disavowal. I get lost, sometimes, in the maze of my own complexes, as if it were something real, a place of some significance, not merely a matter of perspective. There'll be time to examine what I have, or haven't learned from this journey. There'll be time to look deep at what I am left carrying on the other side of Easter - something precious, something worn but functional, or a piece of burnt-out wreckage. There'll be time for the big debrief, but I gave you this little piece of my often messed-up mind just now because it sets the scene for what I'm about to talk about, which is, as John Cleese once said, 'something completely different'. Or...? One thing I have mentioned Ad Infinitum on Facebook, but have breathed (typed) not a word of on this blog so far, is that at 7.30pm on Good Friday, I'll be joining a crowd of other Christians (and some Non-Christians) on stage at the Aberdeen Exhibition and Conference Centre for the second Aberdeen Passion: One Hope. This is a big deal in itself, but bigger still for me, I will have the wonderful privilege and the grave responsibility of playing Peter. This is the biggest role I have ever played on stage. To put this in perspective, here is a potted history of my life in theatre: When I was five I joined my first Christmas play - the Magic Garden - in the role of.... one of the trees. I had no lines. My second Christmas performance was to be as a reindeer, one of the ones at the back. Again, no lines. A later play gave me the opportunity to play Joseph - the Holy Grail of schoolboy nativity roles. I ended up a choral shepherd in this musical version, however, on account of the fact that I couldn't actually sing high enough for the role... In my penultimate year in Primary School, I got to play the father of St. Patrick in a mimed play about the Saint. I mimed a version of St. Patrick's Breastplate, then was chased around the stage for a minute before being stabbed to death and not involved in the rest of the performance. Apart from these primary school performances (I was also an advisor to Aethelred the Unready in a P7 play, which, despite being the biggest role I'd had up to that point, I can barely remember) my acting career has consisted mainly of Scripture Union Holiday Club dramas, playing singing caretakers, mad Italian chefs and slimy alien villains. I was in the last Aberdeen Passion[i], [i]One Life Given back in 2012, but even then I was a two-line Pharisee and a one-line Angel. That experience was part of what drew me back to the Passion, but nothing I've done before has really prepared me for this. I'll come back to that - in fact, there's a lot I want to say about the experience and it might not all add up to one neat, coherent narrative, I'm afraid, so I'm just going to ask you to bear with me and take what you can from my musings. Firstly playing this role has made me look at Peter in a way I never have before. To me, Peter has always been the bold, reckless caricature he is often portrayed as. A man of great faith and little time for thinking things through beforehand. I say caricature, but that's not to deny that he had those traits. They are clearly to be seen in the texts of the gospels, after all. But, even so, actually playing the man on stage has forced me to look for more depth than I have usually been presented with in my previous encounters with his story. Some of this had to do with my own weaknesses as an actor. I am not a bold person. I am not especially reckless. My faith has always been weak and, whilst the essence of acting is appearing that which you are not, I find it hard to portray a man who was, in many ways, my opposite. So I had to find some part of Peter I could identify with, a fragment of my own personality within him: the seed from which my portrayal of him could sprout. I think I found it quite early on in rehearsals. Asked to talk a bit about our characters, I found myself latching on to the fact that Peter is, in fact, a man of some not inconsiderable contradictions. He walked on water with Jesus, was the first to recognise him as the Messiah (by the Spirit), proclaimed loudly how he would die for him; yet Peter was also the one whose faith failed him on the lake, so that he began to sink, who constantly told Jesus that the things the Son of Man predicted about his death and resurrection were 'not so' and who denied even knowing him three times to save his own skin. The word 'passion' originally meant only 'the suffering of Christ on the cross', so it is right and proper that we use it in reference to the Easter story, but let me flip that about a bit just now by using it in its modern sense to describe the contradiction of Peter: Peter's passion for Jesus was matched only by his inability to follow through. Taking a moment to look at that in my own life, I have often struggled with the idea of being a 'passionate' Christian, indeed, I have struggled with the concept of passion in many areas of my life. For one who so easily gets lost in his own internal, emotional landscape, I can often seem cold and whilst I do get fired up about things, they are usually the things that don't really matter, as if it is easier to commit oneself to the frivolous than to the deeper things of life. I have prayed for passion in my life almost as much as I have prayed for faith, and it is still something I am not always comfortable with. One friend once told me that I was the most British person she knew, and perhaps this was part of what she was alluding to? Passion was clearly not a problem for Peter, however. From his fervent attempts to please Jesus to his vehement denial, Peter was a man for whom strong emotion was no stranger, but how to balance these polar opposite moments in his life? Having looked to see a way in which I could play him, with my more reserved demeanour and shyness, it seemed to me that he was actually a man riddled with insecurity. What follows is my interpretation. It may not be correct, but I think it is still illuminating for our own lives as Christians. Peter is taken from a humble life as a Galilean fisherman to become one of the principle players in the most important event of human history, and, somewhere along the journey, the impact of that must have hit him. He did, after all, get given the revelation that Jesus was the Messiah, so he was in no doubt that he had entered an exalted circle. His only reason for being there? Why, that would be Jesus himself. Jesus was Peter's passport to lead him out of obscurity and into history. So Peter clings to Jesus. He loves him, yes - that's clear from his actions - but there is also a sense in which his image of Jesus is what is holding him, allowing him to reconcile his new circumstances with his old - his privileged position with the unschooled man he knows himself to be. Jesus is everything to him, but his idea of who Jesus is is not completely correct and won't be until after the resurrection - in fact, he'll still have plenty to learn about who Jesus really is for the rest of his life, just like the rest of us. Peter is holding onto an idea of the Messiah which does not match up to what Jesus ultimately goes on to do. It is obvious from his rebukes to Jesus every time the master tells him that he must die. It's obvious from the way he responds to the appearance of Moses and Elijah during the transfiguration. Peter has glued his insecure identity to a distorted image. So, when Jesus is arrested, Peter's world starts to crumble. This bold, courageous man, is left alone and terrified. He follows Jesus at a distance, because Jesus - or at least his idea of who Jesus is - is all he has to hold his identity in place, but faced with the very real threat of being implicated with him and suffering severe punishment for being one of his followers, he buckles. His idea of who he is and who he was cannot cope with the pressure put upon it by circumstances that, as far as he is concerned, make no sense whatsoever. His vision of reality is falling apart, and, passionately, he denies having any connection to his master, his friend - his idol. As I said before, I am not bold and courageous in most things and I certainly lack Peter's walk-on-water faith, even at my best. What I can relate to, however, (and many others would be with me) is insecurity. I've been over this before - I wrote a whole post on it - but being able to see and understand the problem, and even seeing the solution in the form of God's good grace, does not make it simply vanish. I am still an inherently insecure person the vast majority of the time, and so I can relate to this in Peter. I can relate to his uncertainty about who he really is, why he is being used by God the way he is and how he should follow through when things get rough. So, this is my hook for playing him: Peter the bold who crumbles when his Master is taken from him, because his identity was hanging on who he thought Jesus was, rather than who Jesus was revealing himself to be all the time. My Peter is somewhat stripped down, though that's not to say simplified, necessarily, but I've focussed on this aspect of his character over some of the more traditional elements. There is still some bravado, some rushed, thoughtless action - I can't change the story, even if I wanted to - but my performance hangs on Peter's internal life, the emotional landscape he, perhaps, doesn't really understand, the thoughts he holds onto and those he cannot yet grasp. I don't know how much of that will show on stage, but I hope it will inform all that does. In the end, it is the best that I can do. I'm simply not a good enough actor to portray Peter any other way. I can only do my best with the talents God has given me and hope that by his Spirit it is enough. I know, also, that I'm not at the centre of this play. The Passion is not about Peter, but he is one of our roads into understanding it and so I take the role very seriously, praying that God will use it to reveal something of Himself to the audience this weekend. And that brings me to the other thing I want to examine, just very briefly. I mentioned praying for faith, and have pointed out on numerous occasions that I am not bold - I lack confidence in myself and can be very shy. So why, you might ask, are you acting on stage at all? It's a very good question. I was plagued by stage fright when I was younger - I remember once imagining myself having a heart attack on stage at a school prize-giving event and seeing my (somewhat rotund, and rather posh) headmaster looming over me to say "Get off the stage, George, you're blocking the procedure" - and even this weekend past standing up in front of my church to give an announcement was utterly terrifying, but here's a funny thing: the last time I was involved in the Aberdeen Passion I was not really nervous at all. There are still a few more days until the first performance and I do have a very strong sense of just how much bigger my part is this time around than last, but even so, I'm still not really nervous. Some of it is probably just because of how well and often we've rehearsed. I cannot doubt that I know my lines and what I need to do with them. Some of it is likely because of the great team of people I have the privilege of working with - the Passion family as we call it, because, in so many ways, that is what we have become and I treasure the time we get to spend together working on these productions. But, there is more to it - of that I'm sure. If there is a miracle hidden within my testimony, it is this: God has transformed me from a timid, socially awkward youth into a timid, socially awkward man - who can do whatever He asks of me, even in front of an audience, when He wills it to be so. Praise the Lord, because without him I'd be hiding in a cupboard somewhere right now![/i][/i] Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
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