Seascape

Troon - 13 February 2010

Haiti, transformation and the safety of my cheque book

“As long as there are people, Christ will walk on earth as your neighbour, as the one through whom God calls you, speaks to you, makes demands on you.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

As I noted in an earlier post, I’ve been thinking about Haiti – how we should respond and what our response would mean.

First of all, I think that there is an imperative that we do actually respond – in cash and in prayer.  We should meet the immediate humanitarian needs that arise from the impact of the earthquake, which has hit an already poor country.  And while there is an inevitable feeling of helplessness (“Can my few quid make a difference?”), we should follow Mother Teresa’s guidance:

“If you can’t feed 100 people, then feed just one.”

BUT (and, if you read this blog regularly, you knew there was a ‘but’ coming!) there has to be more than just a cash commitment in the face of catastrophe.  I liked what Jim Gordon said about working out theological response in the community of faith.

My thinking has taken me down the track of engagement: deep, long‑term, community‑to-community, transformative engagement.  For a long time now I’ve argued that churches, my church, should get involved with one or two projects and embrace them.  I’m talking about getting to know the people and the faces, about making connections that are informed by personal contact, not just by satellite technology. 

I’m talking about giving to help, and learning in the process.  This type of transformative engagement will encompass social, economic, moral and spiritual dimensions – for both giver and receiver.

It’s too easy, in my view, to wait for the next disaster to come along, then respond and forget.  We need to be involved in a deep and enduring way.  As an example, Tony Campolo has been involved in Haiti for many years.  Are we – am I – willing to get so close, to establish long-term commitments with all of the associated frustrations and disappointments?  Or will I hide behind the safety of my cheque book?

Epiphany thoughts

Maggi Dawn wrote:

"Epiphany is not only the climax of the Christmas story, it’s also the marker of the return to everyday life – being faithful to the vision even though the stars and angels are nothing more than a distant memory."

... which got me thinking that, maybe the only time of year when we collectively (as a society) enter a reflective mood is over the New Year period.  It's surely not a coincidence that this is the time when people make resolutions to change this, that, or the other aspect of their life.  Then, when we get back to "everyday life", the life expectancy of our resolutions and our reflections drops dramatically.  In our busy-ness, we forget so easily, become pre-occupied, or fall back into old habits.

... which got me thinking - when will I next take the time to do a bit of reflecting and reviewing?  How will I build this important activity in to my "everyday life".  Or will my ponderings just melt away - like "snaw aff a dyke" (though not this winter!)

Coping with weather - an insight to ...?

By the standards of recent winters, we have had an exceptionally cold and difficult spell of weather to deal with.  For a couple of weeks the temperature has barely been above freezing, and has dropped to -12C in the city.  In addition, we've had several snowfalls, including about 12 inches on Boxing Day, and the forecast for the next few days doesn't indicate any let up in the conditions.

So what?  We live in a northerly country - what do we expect?  Well, listening to the citizens complaining and the pathetic excuses of public services, we expect normal life to carry on without interruption.

Anyway, as I was driving home from work last night it occurred to me that coping with these circumstances was very demanding.  I've spent lots of physical energy clearing snow and ice from the driveway so I can get my car out; but I've also spent lots of mental energy concentrating intensely on driving in fairly poor conditions.  The result - I've been completely knackered by the time I get home each night.

And it struck me that maybe, for once in a decade, I've been given an faint insight to the lives of those who struggle to cope with their environment.  Whether the environment is scorching desert, or involves carrying water for many miles, or surviving as an asylum seeker in this country on benefits of £35 per week, daily living requires all of the physical, mental and emotional energy that people can muster.

I hope that I don't forget this too readily when things get back to normal around here.  Regrettably I suspect that I'll slip back into my comfortable, complacent, middle class, affluent, thoughtless, Western lifestyle all too easily.  

God save me from my self-absorption!

Self-absorbed

There are a lot of things changing in my life just now, and when I think about it I tend to think about the negative aspects - additional responsibilities at work; change of office location with a resulting sense of loss; illness for my dad meaning travelling each weekend; etc.

On Wednesday of last week I was feeling particularly low. Too many deadlines due on Friday; a sense of remoteness in my new office – relationships still to be formed, alliances and politics still to be identified and understood; physically a bit ‘under the weather’. Generally I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

Late in the afternoon I found myself staring out of the window, sort of wondering what to do next, really just wondering when I could go home. Then I noticed the setting sun send its warm, golden rays through the grey clouds that covered most of the sky. As I stood there mesmerised, the sunset grew in intensity turning to a vivid red that changed the whole perspective.

Nothing had changed in terms of the pressures that I felt, but my mood had picked up considerably.

On Thursday morning, the sky was clear and blue as I drove through the Perthshire countryside. There was some low lying mist lingering before the sun warmed up. The trees were clinging to the last of their leaves. The sunrise was beautiful – not particularly dramatic – just beautiful. The yellow glow hinting at the rising sun, still hidden behind the hills. My spirits soared.

There are no photos to accompany this entry. I did have my camera with me, and I thought about stopping on a couple of occasions, but I decided that I wanted to enjoy the moment. So I turned the radio off, temporarily suspending my acquisition of information, opened myself to the beauty around me, and thanked God that I was alive and blessed in so many ways.

Sometimes we’re too self-absorbed to see things in perspective; and we are too ready to focus on our problems rather than revel in the joy that we can find if we would only open our eyes to it.

My favourite Christmas card

I hope I don’t offend anyone by singling out one of the many Christmas cards that we’ve received, but I really liked this one. The picture is called Aurora by Ryan Bliss.

It’s actually a corporate card - from one of the professional associations that I belong to. Usually I find that this type of card comes with some sort of ‘tinsel-ly’ version of the corporate logo, fit only for the recycling pile. There are two reasons why I liked this one. Firstly, it was sold in aid of a charity which provides independent advocacy for young people who are in residential care, and I think that it’s a good way for my association (The Association of Directors of Social Work) to spend money if they choose to send Christmas cards to their members.

But the main reason that I liked the card was the image on the front of it. It seems to fit with the way that I feel about Christmas this year. It’s alright to join in the festivities of the season (provided we don’t behave excessively in any form of consumption). At this time of year it’s good to have some fun and relax. This is a long-standing tradition in the dark, chilly northern winters. Yet, it seems to me that there is another message in this card – that while the festivities and Christmas lights might be in the foreground, there is something cosmic happening in the background. For many people, that’s how it will stay. But for me, as we approach Christmas Day, the emphasis is changing. I’m taking the time to focus on the cosmic aspect, to meditate and reflect on the significance of Christ’s birth. This may sound a bit trite – but I’m happy that I’ve found a way to bridge the gap this year… and not to be seen as the Christian killjoy moaning about the commercialisation of Christmas.

Christmas is what we make it – either a time of fun, relaxation and rejoicing or of stress-filled moaning and negativity.

Earlier this week I found this quotation, and while it’s out of context… it does seem to fit the bill.

“In the midst of the noise, rush, distractions and soul-neglect, we make space for God to speak to us and renew our relationship with him.”

More Ryder Cup reflections

Following on from yesterday’s entry, there are a few other lessons that seem to come from the way that the American team won the Ryder Cup last week.

The principal issue is teamwork. This has been claimed by the Europeans as the decisive factor in their run of victories in recent Ryder Cups. The argument being that they worked better as a team, even though the Americans had the more gifted individual golfers.

Well, this year I think that Azinger did a fantastic job of planning and managing his approach to team-working. It appears that he grouped his players into 3 groups of 4 – based on the way that they lined up in Sunday’s singles matches, and in the paired events on Friday and Saturday. He combined is ‘flair/momentum’ players (Kim, Mahan, Leonard and Mickelson); his ‘rowdy, Southern boys’ (Weekley, Holmes, Perry and Furyk) and his ‘steady guys (Curtis, Cink, Cambell and Stricker).

I surmise that his Sunday philosophy was that if the first 4 players could build the right momentum, then they would sweep away their European opponents – this was only partly successful. (Although, as an aside, I think that the success of Anthony Kim against Sergio Garcia was hugely significant in both the outcome of the Ryder Cup and in establishing Kim as a mega-star of golf in the very near future.) By contrast the second group of 4 were all successful, and they completed the victory (rout) by each winning their matches. The crowd were really into it with these players – 2 of them from Kentucky where the match was being played. Finally, for Azinger, if his first two cohorts didn’t finish the job, then he had his steady guys at the end to grind out the necessary points.

The lesson here is about planning ahead and creating contingencies for a variety of scenarios.

But in reality, the Ryder Cup was won on Friday and Saturday. Again, Azinger worked with the same groups of 4 players, but he further divided them into pairs – mainly a blend of (Ryder Cup) youth and experience. It has long been a hobby horse of mine that people work best in consistent teams. There is a need to hold your nerve and let a team blend together. A couple of years ago, we brought a team together to implement a new software system. There were some initial difficulties and tensions, and some calls to change the composition – from within the team and from outside of it – but we stuck with it and let the sort out their differences. In the need we had a very successful implementation, in fact, the corporate Head of IT said that no other project had ever been so well managed.

Anyway, Azinger decided on his pairings and largely stuck by them. In the 16 matches on Friday and Saturday he used 7 pairings. By contrast, the European captain Nick Faldo used 13 pairings – which didn’t exactly indicate a high degree of confidence in his players (or his own decision making?).

There are other lessons that I could potentially draw out – like developing individual talents, using resources wisely, and about making sure that you have the right challenge mechanisms within your team, but enough already!

Congratulations to Azinger and his team for a well-planned and merited victory. And just for the record, Faldo didn’t get everything wrong – his choice of Ian Poulter as a wild card wasn’t universally popular over here (I didn’t agree with it at the time), but he was the most successful individual in the competition!

Some lessons from the Ryder Cup

I watched a chunk of the Ryder Cup last week. While I love watching sport, I didn’t really enjoy it. Firstly, I had a stinking cold (so was feeling very sorry for myself); secondly I don’t have a high regard for either of the captains; and thirdly we (Europe) lost. Actually we were thoroughly thrashed by a much better team. But there’s always next time!

Anyway, after the disappointment of losing I started to look more closely at the differences that there seemed to be between the teams, and while I have no inside information, the following things occurred to me.

Europe seemed to be over-confident, probably based on their status as favourites going into the competition. This was based on our run of success over the last decade or so. But the problem with this way of thinking is that this particular group of individuals had never played in the Ryder Cup before, and only 4 of them had any significant Ryder Cup experience (Garcia, Westwood, Harrington and Jimenez). Over-confidence and complacency are not good attitudes in any environment.

Another difference seemed to be that we were looking for things to whinge about. Whether it was Azinger’s (ill-advised) ‘pep talk’ to the fans, or the way that putts were or were not conceded. In golf and in life you need to be able to deal with these minor irritations and focus on the objective. Maybe there was a sense of wanting to win the competition while maintaining some sort of moral high ground.

But for me the biggest difference between the teams was teamwork, and I’ll deal with that in another post.

Friday photo: mellow fruitfulness

Small changes, radical effects

This morning started normally (well, it’s been ‘normal’ for a couple of weeks) with an early morning run. It was beautiful but not spectacular morning, with a tinge of pink in the sky and some small pockets of mist clinging to the hills. After showering and breakfast, normality was abandoned. We decided to opt out of church this morning. Instead we will go this evening to hear That Hideous Man concluding his series on Ecclesiastes.

This meant that we had a large chunk of a day with no specific plans, which also allowed some space for thinking.

Yesterday we went to visit my parents. My dad is finding it difficult to maintain his garden, and he wanted a small tree removed. So we took a variety of tools and gardening clothes with us to do it for him.

True to form it started to rain as the removal exercise reached the point of no return. So I pressed on, getting wet and covered in soil and mud. Every time that I have removed a tree or shrub I have the same experience. Eighty percent of the job is done fairly quickly, but there are always a few roots that are buried deep or are hidden away – and this is the bit that takes the time. Anyway, I knew that I was nearing the end, when my mum came out to give me a telling off – it was wet and I should come in. The first bit was obvious! The second bit was a judgement call – it was getting very wet, but I was nearly there. I decided to keep going, and a few minutes later the last root was cut and the stump came out.

Due to the weather, we weren’t able to complete the clearing up, but we’d done the important bit. My parents will be able to do some of the clearing up (I took away the heavy stuff) or it can wait until our next visit.

It was only after we had removed the tree that I realised how much of an issue it had been for both of my parents. Maybe it was just a generous display of gratitude, but I got the impression that this tree had been a major problem for them. Removing the tree did open up a bit more light in their garden, but for them it was as if the whole garden had been liberated from a shadow that had hung over it for years. What might seem to me to be a minor change, was for them a significant improvement, and had I given up they would have been left with their problem for a few weeks.

My conclusion – sometimes the biggest changes can come from apparently small adjustments.

By way of a postscript, I spent almost as long this morning cleaning up the tools that I as had used, as I did taking the tree out. But as I removed the grime, I was able to do some thinking and that can’t be a bad thing, can it?

It doesn't have to be perfect to be amazing.

It was a fairly dreich start to the day - then the Fish Wife pointed out the fennel misted by the remnants of last night's rain.

The title for this blog has been running around in my head since I read Lucy's entry the other day. We've lived in this house for 15 years and we've never been on top of the whole garden. Gordon MacDonald (I think) referred to 'areas of considered neglect', and I apply this concept frequently. I know that there are parts of our garden (quite a few) that need a good weed and overhaul, but I still get a lot of joy from the garden even though it's not perfect.

I guess it depends on how you look at things. Unfortunately I'm not so positive about everything in my life, but I'm still work-in-progress!

Surrendering to stillness

On Friday afternoon, while driving home from work, I noticed that the River Tay was quite calm – so I stopped to take some photos.

The river wasn't absolutely still, but it struck me that the gentle movement made it seem even more beautiful and peaceful. The effect of the reflections on the river’s surface was almost like some of the Impressionist paintings (the photos don’t really do this justice).

I guess that there would've been strong currents beneath the surface, but the overall feeling was one of tranquillity. After taking some photos I simply stood and watched for a while. I felt completely relaxed and ‘in tune’.

That feeling of tranquillity has kept coming back to me, and it feels like God is speaking through it.

Over the course of the last week, I’ve been grappling with Mark’s account of the Transfiguration, and have found myself returning to the voice from the cloud:

“This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”

Listening is easy – hearing and heeding are harder. How do I get from listening in my head to obeying in my heart?

Well, in some way it seems to be about hearing the gentle whisper, rather than the roaring wind. It’s about combining being still and being restless. Being still to hear, and restless to obey. The tranquillity of knowing God’s presence and hearing his voice, and the restlessness of desiring and seeking change.

As ever, Heschel seems to capture it more comprehensively and eloquently:

“We ring the hollow bell of selfishness rather than absorb the stillness that surrounds the world, hovering over all the restlessness and fear of life – the secret stillness that precedes our birth and succeeds our death. Futile self-indulgence brings us out of tune with the gentle song of nature’s waiting, of mankind’s striving for salvation.”

Who do you say...? #3

Last entry on this stuff.

The response to Jesus' question "involves a fundamental reorientation of the principle of life" (Wessel).

For me the question, begs another question - 'What does my life say about who Jesus is?'

'Follow me' sounds quite easy; 'take up your cross' is chilling!

At Spring Harvest in 1999, Phillip Hacking said "Sometimes we need to be shaken from our complacency - Jesus words were sometimes harsh, shocking."

Heschel talks about God as "not only a power to which we are accountable, but also a pattern for our lives." Follow me, indeed!

Being consistent in following our calling - whatever it may be - requires us to continually answer Jesus' question, "Who do you say I am?"

Well, the reflections of the past few days have shaken me from my complacency. I've found two prayers that have helped me to shape my thoughts and deal with the shaken-ness. I'll keep one for tomorrow night, but the one below came from a wee prayer card that I picked up in Dunkled Cathedral (and currently keep in my journal).

Lord let me walk with you and know your peace.

May my life speak of you,

and my whole being wait on you,

to hear your Word and do your will.

my Lord and my God.

Who do you say...? #2

The answer to Jesus' question, "Who do you say I am?" is in one sense relatively straightforward. As a Christian, I've made my decision to follow Jesus. So that's that then. Well... maybe not.

We are frequently blind to what is before us. At other times we see partially and don't probe deeper. Or we too readily accept common wisdom.

Jesus wisdom was uncommon. It required -and requires - a shift in thinking. It needs reflective learning and prayer to begin to fathom the depths.

The problem is that it's not just a one-off question. It's a daily question of commitment and priority. Having discovered Christ, we need to explore fully what it means and then apply it fully to our lives. It's a commitment to exploring a Christ-centred life.

The question is really - what is of ultimate importance to us?

God is of no importance

unless He is of supreme importance.

- Abraham Joshua Heschel

Who do you say ...?

Recently I've been reflecting on Jesus question to his disciples (see Mark 8:29)

But what about you? ... Who do you same I am?

It's clearly a defining question - then and now. It's been good to reflect on it and to not answer too quickly. The implications of the answer will be far-reaching, so I've allowed the question to linger. Over the next few days I'll maybe share some thoughts and some images.

Friday photo: on reflection

Inspired - first tentative steps

I started to write an entry last week and interrupted myself... several days later I've remembered what I was going to write about.

A friend lent me a book a while back (which I will return soon), which really inspired me. It was called Doorposts by Timothy Botts. The basic idea is that he has taken passages of scripture and presented them as calligraphy. Now my talents are significantly less impressive, but it inspired me and I've made some tentative steps of my own (see below). It kind of links to my thoughts on Praying in Color and also Richard Rohr's idea of having a current mantra. Anyway I'm finding it quite useful and therapeutic and challenging and inspiring. I may show some of my further attempts in due course.

It's also prompted some thoughts about motivation, which I'll come back to later.

Friday photo: Arbroath marina

Where's the rewind button?

I spent a chunk of today trying to help out in a difficult family situation and seem to have managed to make things worse!

With the benefit of hindsight, I made the cardinal error of taking my standards and thought processes into a situation, believing confidently that this would help make everything better. Wrong! I'm sure there's a word for it. I remember it's - STOOPID!! (Actually there are lots of other words too, but I'm not a great believer in beating myself up.)

You know the old cliche about breaking eggs to make an omelette? Well, I'm pretty sure that the intention is for the liquid egg to end up in a receptacle - not on the floor, walls, ceiling and your own face!

I've learned a painful lesson. But there's no rewind button for life, so I need to focus on what to do next - with a bit more thought and careful preparation.

wonder in the garden

We had a dusting of snow last night (Good Friday), but when I got up this morning the sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky.

The Fish Wife commented on the snow lying on some daffodils outside our bedroom window - so I went out for a closer look - camera in hand.

There was a poignancy and beauty about these seemingly fragile flowers, bowed down by the weight of the snow yet striving to turn their faces up towards the spring sunshine.

It seemed to me that they captured the mood of Easter Saturday - bowed down by the enormity of Christ's suffering on the cross, yet looking forward to Sunday and resurrection.

I think that nature always expresses itself more eloquently than my words - so let the pictures do the talking.

"In difficult times you should always carry something beautiful in your heart."

- Blaise Pascal