Nostalgic for the tough times

Nostalgia is meant to be about warm fuzzy feelings.

Memories of harmonious family days out, or streets safe enough to play on, or TV with only four channels to choose from and everyone settling down to Blind Date. It's meant to be about home cooked Sunday roasts and board games and laughing till it hurts. Or at least, that's what I feel like nostalgia should be.

So it was strange to notice, as I walked home on a cool, sunny evening last week, that I felt strangely nostalgic as I listened to old songs on my iPod that reminded me of difficult times and difficult feelings from when I was a teenager. They took me straight back to walking my paper round route, at a similar time each evening when I was 13, 14, 15.

As I walked, there was always something on my mind. It was my time to process whatever was going on at home and at school, in my friendships, in my relationships. I used to hardly notice the houses I was delivering papers to or the roads I was crossing, because I was playing over old conversations in my head, playing out future scenes as I thought they might go, wrestling with questions and coming to few conclusions. Some of the things I thought about were situations beyond my control - they were family problems, things that happened to me and around me, without my permission and without my input. I wanted to think through how best to react, and how to do good in a bad situation. I tried to figure out which of my feelings about it all were justified, which were helpful feelings and which I should bury completely. I spent a lot of time feeling trapped, feeling powerless.

Some other situations that I used to think about were brought upon myself. I made mistakes as I tried to work out how relationships worked, I struggled to understand myself or other people a lot of the time. Sometimes I hurt people by accident, sometimes I felt like I knew what I was doing and did it anyway, which confused me all the more. I hated that I did things I didn't want to do, I hated how little control I seemed to have over the parts of my life I should be able to control. I used to talk things through with my youth worker sometimes, and we'd have the same conversation over and over. I'd make decisions and go back on them in a day, I'd have new start after new start, determined to get things right this time. It was exhausting and apparently fruitless.

And somewhere in amongst it all, there was a faith growing in me. I've given my testimony a few times now, and tried to work out each time which were the significant points where God showed me I needed him, or that I could trust him, or he did things and used people to bring me a step closer to him - and there were those significant points, plenty of them. But actually, I think a lot of the time in those years, faith was growing in the background, quietly. Or not so quietly. As much as through the people who spoke to me and the sermons I heard, faith grew through the songs I listened to on my old Walkman, from Dad's old worship CDs and from bands I'd heard at Greenbelt and Spring Harvest. It was the words of other people, singing about the God they knew in difficult times as well as good ones, which helped me to connect up the crap going on at home and in my relationships with the message I knew about a God who loved me, and sent his Son so I could know him. They gave me words to articulate that crap, not just as load of stuff to deal with, but as stuff that God could use to help me depend on him. They gave me words to start understanding the habits I couldn't shake and the parts of me I didn't like as things that God could transform, to see in myself potential rather than hopelessness.

A South African band I saw at Greenbelt called Tree63 had a song that seemed to sum up my frustrations at my own behaviour. Overdue went like this:

Struck by lightning once

You conceived a flame

Now every waking second

I'm waiting for the blaze
But is it ever going to come?

What am I supposed to do

When everything I could become is overdue?
Out of frustration

Comes a patient man

I'm on the verge of something

End of what you began

But is it ever going to come?

What am I supposed to do

When everything I could become is overdue?

It told me my experiences of frustration with myself even after those significant moments with God, weren't unique to me and didn't mean I couldn't be a Christian. They didn't make me a failure in God's eyes. But it encouraged me to keep up the struggle. The final words of that song went: Just the smallest spark, it set my world on fire. I see you in my dreams. In hearing other people voice my frustrations, I learnt that I had potential to be all that God made me to be, and that was worth struggling for. 

There was another sort of song too which challenged me a lot as a teenager. It was the sort that told me no matter what my circumstances, God was still God, still reliable, still faithful, still in control, and still worth living my whole life for, whatever the cost. Another Tree63 song, I Stand for You (hear it on YouTube) taught me that. I remember listening to it through tears and with gritted teeth as I sat on a park swing struggling with the implications of being a Christian. I thought about the need to commit to unconditional forgiveness, and experienced the cost of that where I was being hurt again and again. I thought about the rejection following Jesus might bring, and felt the sting of it. But I got to the line that said "Guilty of disgrace, but you took my place. So Jesus, I'll always stand for you", and was convinced it was worth it.  

Perhaps the songs that most grew my faith in the difficult places though were the ones that spoke of God being right in there with me, of his nearness in suffering as well as in in joy. There was an old Matt Redman song from the 90s called The Friendship and the Fear, and it spoke of God as one who whispers in our ear as we try to live for him. It said, You confide in those who fear you, share the secrets of your heart. I learnt of a God I could know, really know, and who really knew me. It made all the difference. It didn't stop crap times being crap. It didn't change the situations going on. But occasionally, it gave them profound meaning. Often I forgot to turn to God with difficulty, but the times that I did were special, and they've stuck with me. I have no idea who it was (please take credit if it was you!), but someone  said to me very recently that worshipping God in times of suffering is something we'll only get to do this side of heaven. It doesn't mean that suffering is a good thing, but part of the privilege of being human is that God can profoundly meet us in it, and that changes us. 

So why nostalgic? I'm not entirely sure. It's not that life is perfect now, although so many parts of it are in fact brilliant. Maybe it's that I don't tend to listen to those old songs much any more, and old music has a way of making you feel nostalgic. But more than that, I think there's probably something in the way I handle both the general difficulties of life, and the frustrations that I still have with my own bad decisions and habits, which is different now to when I was 14 or 15. At 22, I feel like I should be self-sufficient. I've worked a few more things out. I've leant therapy-language to work through my emotions. I know how to talk to people about what I feel, I know how to cope with some situations that were overwhelming as a teenager. And I've gained a kind of pride which means those parts of me I used to struggle with and really fight with, because I knew God could transform me in to who I was meant to be, well I don't struggle with them so much any more. The sense of my own potential I used to have has become a sense of pride that I'm fine just as I am, and it means I make excuses for myself. 

There's a line from the rhyming genius that was my 15 year old self, from a poem I called Lilac Walls, which said "I wish I could go back there, though life could be pretty crap there." It's not that I want those same circumstances back. But I'm nostalgic for the dependence on God that I used to know, the knowledge that however hard the circumstance, I needed him all the more. I'm nostalgic for the vulnerability of singing those songs through the pain, with no idea what to do about it except bring it to God. I  miss the Saturday afternoon walks to Wesley Owen to buy a new CD, ready for my whole perspective on God, life and myself to be grown and challenged through a few songs. I'm ready to shake off some of the pride and cynicism, some of the dependence on myself and other people that I've collected over 6 or 7 years, and go back to the struggling with God through suffering when it does come. I don't want to give up on believing I could be more than who I am, that God has big plans, that he wants to change me through every circumstance of life. C.S. Lewis said, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." Perhaps its time I learned to pay attention again. 

A Kingdom kick in the gut.

"That Jesus had some good morals didn't he? Be nice to people and stuff. I generally agree with him and stick to them."

This is a line we evangelicals roll out a lot to try to sum up what we think non-Christians think of Jesus. It's a favourite of ours actually, to tell everyone else what they probably think of Jesus, so that we can tell them why they're wrong. So in this case, we encourage people to say that they think Jesus was a good moral teacher, and then we pounce with the C.S. Lewis "mad-bad-or-God" argument. As Lewis wrote, a good man with good morals is not an option that Jesus has left open to us - someone who taught what he taught, claimed what he claimed, and asked of his followers what Jesus asked, can be no good teacher. Either he was insane, or he was a manipulative (and very successful) conman. Or he was telling the truth, and he is God.

The reason I bring this up though, is not that I've spotted a few non-Christians speaking of Jesus this way, who need it pointed out to them that no nice moral teacher claims to be God. No, it's more that I'm hearing Christians think this way. In fact, I tell a lie, I can't hear anyone think. It's that I've found this thinking in me.

It's not that I don't think Jesus is the Son of God. It's not that I think he was just a man with nice things to say. But that when I think of Jesus' teaching on the way we should live, I most often think that what he taught  was nice, good, about being kind. I think that I generally agree and that for the most part, I do okay at putting them into practice. Perhaps its that evangelicals have such a focus on the radical gospel of grace, the good news that in Jesus, God took our human nature, died and rose again so that we could be freely forgiven, accepted and welcomed by him, that we don't have much time for the radical nature of his teaching on how we should live in the light of that.

This is what I've discovered as I've been reading the next part of the sermon on the mount. Jesus didn't say nice things. He said absolutely crazy things. He said things that make you go "but, are you sure? What about when...?" and that make you want to tell Jesus why he's got that a bit wrong.

The words speak for themselves but I thought I'd briefly leave you my thoughts on two of the radical things that Jesus says should mark out the lives of people who are part of his kingdom. Firstly, radical integrity. He says:

 "Let your 'yes' be 'yes' and your 'no', 'no'; anything beyond this comes from the evil one." (Matthew 5:37)

Now, that might not be radical for you. It's probably not, because you're probably a much better person than me. But I've found integrity is something I've struggled with. When I read this verse I found myself reflecting on why that is, and why having this kind of integrity and trustworthiness might be something fitting for people who are part of the kingdom of God. It's not that I want to be deliberately deceptive, arranging to meet up with people and then letting them down just for the fun of it. It's not that I tell lies to sell to a paper and earn myself money and infamy. Not yet anyway. I think sometimes its that I want to please other people or make myself look good to them, so I say yes to things that I'm really saying "oh no..." to in my head. That leaves me likely to cancel or make excuses. Sometimes its that I'm scared to be honest or ashamed of what could be the truth. I find myself promising that I won't do something again, that I'll be better, that I'll make good decisions and use wise judgement, when in fact I can see my own heart and I know there's a very real possibility that I won't live up to the standards I'm claiming for myself. I'm too scared to admit that actually, I can't guarantee I won't make that same mistake again. So again, it leaves me likely to let people down, and in the end it makes all my earnest promises pretty meaningless. Jesus calls us to integrity, to stick to our word, to say what we mean and follow through on what we say. I'll come to why in a minute...

The second value that Jesus calls us to which winded me slightly was radical generosity. Read Matthew 5:38-42, but I paraphrased it like this:

Firstly, don't respond to the evil of others. Don't inflict pain on others when they have inflicted it on you. Don't resist when someone else hurts you. In fact, when they do hurt you, respond with a continued vulnerability and love towards them. Secondly, do respond to the needs of others. When someone tries to take from you forcefully, or in anger, give them even more that what they demanded. When someone wants you to serve them, serve them twice as much as they asked for. When someone asks you for something, just give it to them. When someone wants to borrow from you, let them. 

Obviously that kills all the vivid imagery and context-appropriate examples Jesus uses, but I wanted to strip it back to the principles general enough to apply to my life too. It's staggering. Don't respond to the evil of others, but do respond to their needs. Not grudgingly or even dutifully but generously.

This challenges every single part of my life. For instance, I get defensive enough when my friends make jokes at my expense, and I want to make sure I'm giving as good as I get. So if anyone is actually unkind to me, the same defensiveness is usually my response. Make sure they get as hurt as me. Make sure I come out on top here. Maintaining my vulnerability and love is not the natural response. [As an aside, these verses raised all kinds of questions for me about abuse, protection, justice, pacifism, and so on. But I didn't want to get bogged down in those because I know myself, I know it's far easier to look at those complicated and sometimes theoretical issues and ignore the glaring need to put this into practice in the every day, simple situations. There's a lot more to say on the complicated stuff though, let me know if you have any initial thoughts.] 

What about lending or even giving to everyone who asks? If you've ever walked around Oxford for more than 20 seconds, you'll know how commonly you get asked for money. There are more people sleeping on the streets in Oxford, selling the Big Issue and asking for money, than I've come across in almost any other city. Can Jesus really expect me to give to everyone who asks? What about the small print, what about the conditions? Shouldn't I check what they're going to spend it on first, shouldn't I tell them not to worry because I've given money to a project instead? Shouldn't I look for the most vulnerable looking person and give my money to them? Or shouldn't I have a quota for the day? These questions are the reason Jesus' words so so striking and so radical. "Give to the one who asks you." It's so simple and cuts right to the heart of my selfish desire to hold on to all that is mine, not to have my life and my stuff intruded upon by anyone who just asks. What if word got out, and everyone started asking? It's like I want Jesus to just be a bit more sensible about generosity.

I started to think of ways I might put this into practice. What if I counted on an average day how many times I'm asked for money? Say it was ten times. What if I went to the bank in the morning and got £5 changed into ten 50p coins? Then I could keep those ten coins in my pocket all day and give one away each time I was asked for money. But then, if the number of people asking went up... well I could just get it changed into smaller denominations. I could give out 20p coins instead. Then I'd still be sticking to what Jesus said, and it's still pretty generous...

Here's the heart of the issue. Maybe that is a good system to use, maybe it's not. That's not really the point. As ever, the heart of the issue is an issue of the heart. My heart. Even in my earnest attempts to put in to practice Jesus' teaching, even then I wouldn't be able to escape my selfishness.That's why it's so radical, so revolutionary. It really does involve a fundamentally different way of looking at the world, looking at my life and my stuff and my money.

I've written far more than I intended, so a final thought. Why does Jesus come up with these revolutionary principles for living, and how can he ever expect me to put them into practice when I'm weak, scared and selfish? The answer to both, at least a partial answer, is the same. This is what God is like. A few verses later Jesus will say "Be perfect therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). It is God who is characterised by radical integrity, total trustworthiness. It's the 'yes' and 'no' of God which we can totally trust, God who has never gone back on a promise. It's God who is generous beyond measure, showing grace instead of giving me what I deserve, continuing to love me when I hurt him. It's God who always gives more than I ask for, who "goes the extra mile" (to use Jesus' language), who never turns me away when I'm in need. He perfectly lived out these things in Jesus who "did not come to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Mark 10:45). So as a citizen of God's kingdom and a child of my Father, of course it's fitting that I should live like this too. As I spend time with him, experiencing his trustworthiness and generosity, it's that character which I'll begin to reflect in my life. It's infectious, and God promises to make us more into his likeness as we keep looking to him. I trust that he'll come through on that promise.

So, in a few months time, feel free to ask me how my generosity is going. Ask me whether I'm responding defensively or graciously when I'm hurt. Ask me how tight a grip I've got on my own purse. Hopefully I'll be honest enough to tell you the truth.

Hear the call of the Kingdom...

A couple of weeks ago, I saw something on Twitter which caught my eye, and struck a chord:
                                                                                           
"For people who interpret every part of the Bible literally except for The Sermon On The Mount, we pray.@unvirtuousabbey"

It struck a chord because no matter how much time I spend (and how many essays I write) on working out the best best way to interpret various bits of the Bible, how different stories were originally intended and understood, what 'literal' and 'historical' and 'mythical' even mean - it's still so easy to ignore its call and its challenge. It's easy to study the words of the Bible and not listen to God's Word.  Even when I do remember that I'm meant to be living it out in my every day life, it's still tempting to get wrapped up in the difficulties, the controversy, and claim it's difficult to know exactly how to live without getting Paul to write me a personal epistle about my personal situation.

And then I remembered the Sermon on the Mount.  Never let me say that I don't know what God wants me to do with my life until you're convinced that I'm putting into practice everything in Matthew chapters 5 to 7. Perhaps the most captivating part of the whole Bible, the most revolutionary manifesto, the clearest teaching  we have from Jesus, and yet the most ignored by Christians who claim to take the Bible most seriously. Myself included. 

So I made a resolution (shortly after New Year but I reckon it still counts) to work through the Sermon on the Mount in my time with God each morning, however slowly I need to, asking him to show me what it would look like for me to start living according to these three short chapters. And then I'm going to pray for the grace to do start doing it. There might be a few blog posts about it along the way... 



In the mean time, here's a song (specially the second verse) which captures for me something of the excitement and the possibility of living out what it means to be part of God's kingdom and to want to see it in our every day contexts.

Taking his word for it - Why are we waiting? #3

I think you have trust issues. 

Don't take it personally. I'm not singling you out, I'm pretty sure most people have trust issues of some sort or another. For some people, it's that they don't trust, at least not easily. Perhaps they've been hurt in the past, and develop a hardened, 'me against the world' attitude. Relationships become full of insecurity and suspicion (you only have to watch Jeremy Kyle's lie detector tests to see countless examples of this). Other people find they trust too easily, quick to believe each new acquaintance is the hero they've been waiting for, and  every new philosophy, self help book or diet is the one that will definitely work, and find themselves disappointed and hurt over and over. Most of us are probably more complex than those two extremes. I, if you're interested, have a tendency to trust people quickly - happily sharing my life story with anyone who seems nice enough - but am equally quick to doubt people, if my experiences, feelings or insecurities in any way suggest that they might not be as genuine as I thought or might not stay true to their word. 

It's no secret that Christianity is all about trust. Numerous conversations with a friend of mine about the reasonableness of Christian faith all boiled down to his conclusion that he couldn't believe in something "just because someone said so", the something in this case being the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and the someone being the gospel writers. Different Christian traditions might prioritise different reasons for having faith, but it usually seems to come down to "because someone said so" - whether that someone is Biblical authors, early church theologians, Christians we know, or a voice inside ourselves - Christian faith comes down to trusting someone that their message is true. When we talk about having reasonable faith then, a large part of what we mean is that we have good reason for trusting those people. So my conversations with that friend turned to when it might be reasonable to believe something just because someone said so. 

The season of advent, as well as looking forward to Christmas and the birth of Christ, is a time to look forward to his coming again one day. That he would return as judge of the whole world, to finally put an end to evil and to fully bring in God's kingdom on a renewed earth with no more pain and suffering, is a huge promise. If I really believe it, it should have a dramatic effect on the way I live my life now. I want to think more about the effects of that promise on life in the waiting room, but I'll leave those thoughts for another post, because for now, I need to go  back to those reasons for trusting what someone says. If I'm going to let this particular promise change every aspect of my life, I need to be sure that I can take Jesus at his word on this one. So, here are my top five reasons for taking someone at their word:

5. What they say is reasonable and realistic. 
The first thing I'd do is assess whether what someone is saying makes sense, not "pie in the sky" as my mother calls it. Are they promising me money that I know they don't have? Are they promising to make the impossible happen? Or are they telling me something which actually, I find remotely credible? In the case of Jesus promising that he'll return as judge and king, I'd say it would make little sense for anyone else to have said - but if Jesus really is the Son of God, which on the basis of the evidence I've looked at I believe he is, then it makes some sense that he is not done with this world but will return to finish his work and set it right. 

4. The testimony of others agrees. 
When an offer seems to good to be true, or I sense a scam on the internet, the first thing I usually do is Google it. There are forums all over the place where bargain hunters either bear witness to a money off voucher that really did work, or report scams so that others don't fall into the same trap. Of course, herd mentality is exactly what leads whole groups of people to fall victim to hoaxes, all believing because people around them did, but considering the thought out opinions of other people we trust can still be used as a helpful guide. For me, the number of highly intelligent people who have thought about, written about, questioned and yet firmly believed in the promise that Jesus will return over the last 2000 years is reassuring. I know a fair few less intelligent, gullible types have believed it too, but that doesn't invalidate the rational thinking of the others! As I look around me now, the faith of my family and friends who I respect and trust gives me reason to think there must be at least some grounds for believing this promise. 

3. There is evidence of previous promise-keeping form.
It's hard to keep believing the same promise over and over, when you've been let down. The words which used to gain your trust become meaningless when prefaced with "This time, I really promise..." We rely on past form to help us know whether to trust a promise again. On the flip side then, if a promise has been kept in the past, it's much easier to trust that it will be kept again. When it comes to promises and predictions about himself, Jesus has good form. He told his disciples that he would be rejected and killed - less of a promise than a preparatory warning - which turned out to be absolutely true, down to every detail. More than that, he promised that he'd be raised from the dead and again, according to the evidence we have, and the failure of any other theory to explain the evidence satisfactorily, I'm convinced that Jesus also kept this promise. In my personal experience, I've found that every promise Jesus made to his followers has been true in my life - so it makes sense to trust in this big promise too. 

2. The trustworthy character of the promise maker.
C.S. Lewis in his famous trilemma made the case that Jesus was no good moral teacher. Given the claims he made about himself, he had to be 'mad, bad, or God.' The problem for those who dismiss Jesus' claims as absurd is not only that he showed no signs at all of being mentally ill, but also that he displayed a perfect moral character - to the extent that those looking to kill him couldn't even invent stories of his wrongdoing, and instead could only having him arrested for blasphemy: claiming to be God. Which might well be wrong, unless of  course you are God. Having examined him, Pilate could find no wrong in him, and tried to wash his hands of the blood of a man he knew to be totally innocent. As I read the gospels and see the astonishing compassion, humility, love and grace shown by this man, I find myself prepared to trust his promises like I'd trust no other.  

1. Relationship with the promise maker. 
It seems most obvious of all, but it makes all the difference. When someone makes a promise, my relationship with that person plays a huge part in whether I trust them. A promise made in the context of real relationship means something special, there's something at stake. Our friendship acts as the deposit, the guarantee. In the context of relationship, we can constantly probe, test, build up trust through the little things, and find ourselves trusting friends with big things. Jesus promised his followers that in the time between his bodily leaving earth and his return again, he'd send them the Holy Spirit. The New Testament calls the Holy Spirit both the spirit of God and the spirit of Christ, through whom we can have relationship with the Father and the Son now. Paul calls him a "deposit, guaranteeing what is to come". It is the day by day experience of relationship with God in Christ, trusting him with the little things and experiencing his faithfulness, seeing him at work in me and in other Christians, that convinces me that such a huge promise for the future really can be trusted. 

So, if you have trust issues, you're not alone. If you think Jesus' return is a pretty serious promise not to be believed lightly, same here. But it seems to me that according to the tests I usually use to work out if I can trust someone, and if I can take them at their word, this promise of Jesus passes every time. What criteria do you use to decide whether to believe something? What did I miss? Are there instances where you believe, even little things, just because someone says so? Do you think the promise of Jesus' return really does fulfil these criteria or is it just too good to be true? Is it even good at all...? More on that next time.  

Uncertain that... sexuality is simple.

Over the summer, I spent a lot of time thinking about gender issues. I wrote the post below “Gender in crisis?” on my Facebook and invited a whole range of people to comment. Some did, others sent me their thoughts privately, and it was a privilege to hear so many takes on the whole set of issues. It gave me a whole load more to think about, and I’m not sure I’m much closer to many answers.

At the same time, something which I’ve been thinking a lot about and is in various ways related to gender issues is sexuality. There are SO many questions to ask, I could try to list them but I'd be here all day. Here’s a few fairly universal questions: what do we mean by sexuality, and attraction? What are the differences between romantic attraction, sexual attraction, desire for friendship, admiration? How do we know that when I use one of those terms, I mean the same thing that you understand by it? Have those categories always been separated in the same way as they are now, or have people used different terms for different things at different times? Can we predict who we will feel those different things towards, does it depend on the people we meet, or is it set for each person? Do these aspects of our sexuality change or are they generally consistent? How much do societal expectations of sexuality and the boundaries of our definitions of relationships affect what we experience towards different people? What would the spectrum for sexuality look like if those expectations were different?

I’ve got so much to ask.

There’s a whole other set of questions as a Christian too. I’ve been fortunate really in that having a gay mum and a gay friend who are both Christians has meant I’ve had a great excuse to bring up some of these questions in Christian contexts, to challenge the status quo and the sometimes very ignorant assumptions of some of the Christians I’ve spent time with. I’ve think perhaps I’ve gained myself a bit reputation for being “difficult” on this subject, especially among some of the more conservative evangelicals I’ve met, because I’m never really comfortable with the certainty I’ve found. What I mean is this: in evangelical churches, this thing exists which is “The Homosexuality Issue”. It’s a little bit troubling for many because it’s this Big Issue which people outside the church sometimes use to force Christians to say something very unpopular. Conversations can go something like: “Why does God hate gay people? Is my mate going to hell because he’s gay? Christians are so homophobic.”

So inside the churches, they’ve come up with this defence strategy. The response is meant to be “God doesn’t hate gay people, he loves everyone. Homosexual acts are sinful because God designed sex to be for a man and a woman inside marriage. But we’re not homophobic because we still think God loves you, so please come to church anyway and we’ll do our best not to stare at you.” Maybe that’s not quite the response we’re meant to actually give, but it’s the spirit of what I’ve heard sometimes. I understand why conservative evangelical Christians want to be able to give this certain, clear cut answer, I really do. It’s so much safer to know what we think, to have the set piece, and to avoid the pitfalls of sounding blatantly homophobic or the condemning stares of other Christians if we don’t say something clear enough about it being Wrong when questioned. It’s safe to have an answer to stick to, even if other people disagree.

But... there’s so much more to say, so much more to ask. The idea that there’s just one “Homosexuality Issue” for the church to respond to is ridiculous. For a start, it’s not like there’s just this one group of “gay people” over there that we need to respond to, and the questions can’t be as narrow as who sleeps with whom. If we take the widely held view that human sexuality constitutes a spectrum along which most people lie (others being asexual and not considering themselves on that spectrum at all) and many people move, then there are surely far more questions going on for far more people than just that group of “gay people” who we’ve handily put in a box over in the corner while we discuss them. Surely those universal questions I asked above are questions for everyone?

For those of us asking them from a Christian perspective, they take on another dimension which in my mind only increases the questions we can ask: what does the God who created us have to say about all those universal questions? Are these categories of friendship, romantic attraction, intimacy, sexual attraction and so on, categories defined by society or by God? What parameters, if any, has he set around them, and what if our experiences don’t seem to fit in to those parameters, if they exist? Are those boundaries about who we are, what we do, or what our relationships look like? Can we even separate those categories?

For some people, I think these questions are completely alien. I know that because of the completely confused/blank/bewildered looks I’ve got when I start asking them at church or with certain Christians. To some Christians, these questions seem to be totally irrelevant. They are totally clear on their own gender identity and are attracted exclusively to people of the opposite gender. They experience a very clear division between feelings of friendship towards people of their own gender and attraction to people of the opposite, although they may occasionally get these muddled when it comes to friends of the opposite gender, but this is not too much of a problem.  They get happily married, and have a good group of same gender friends around them for accountability and support. Gay people, to them, are just doing it all the other way around. They must experience that same clear cut distinction between sexual attraction and friendship (the only two categories) but their sexual attraction goes the wrong way. That makes them either sinful (if they act on it by having gay sex) or to be pitied (if they don’t act on it, by not having gay sex.) For some people, there’s not a lot else to say.

That might be most people, I don't know. I might be alone in thinking that there are a zillion other questions like those I’ve raised. I might be the only one who things human relationships are more complex than sex or not-sex. I might be the one person who missed the memo about a universally accepted and understood set of definitions about relationships and intimacy and sexuality. But I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. There’s this whole huge interesting conversation about gender and sexuality and relationships and all sorts going on outside the church. And as the church, we’re shutting our eyes, putting our fingers in our ears, and repeating our set piece on "The Homosexuality Issue" until people go away and stop asking us difficult questions. We’re missing out! Surely we’ve got loads to learn? Surely we have questions to ask too? Perhaps we might even have something to contribute too? I’d suggest we start by listening though, because we’ve got a bit of catching up to do.

On a personal note, you might be wondering where all these questions have left me. Somewhat predictably, I don’t know. I mentioned earlier that having a gay mum and a gay friend has been helpful in being able to explore these questions for reasons that are not too personal. But naturally, they’re questions I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about myself. How do I personally want to understand and label and classify my whole range of experiences with friendship, intimacy, and attraction? The best conclusion I’ve come to at the moment is that I don’t. Not for now. See, I’m not sure I like the idea that everyone is straight until they come out otherwise. If we are complicated creatures, and these questions are real and valid, isn’t it silly to start with any assumption at all? Doesn’t it discourage questioning, and exploration, and ultimately understanding of ourselves? The way I see it, labels are for people who know. Or are at least people who know they want to use that label. So if the majority of people in the world want to define themselves as straight, that’s totally fine. I just hope they are using that word themselves, having thought through their own experiences of their sexuality as a whole. I hope it’s something deliberate. Same for people who define themselves in other ways – that’s totally cool for them. I’m glad they are sure enough to be able to pick a label that expresses them. As for me, I’m not sure of much yet. I don’t think I’m clear enough on what we mean by these various words and categories, what everyone else means by them and what I mean by them. I’m not sure enough yet how they define different types of relationships, and who I want those types of relationships with. I’m not sure of my answers now, so I’m certainly not sure what my answers will look like in 5, 10, 50 years time. Maybe I will have clear cut answers then, maybe I’ll have a label. Maybe not. So I don’t think any of the labels are right for me yet, because labels are for people who know.

So to clarify, I’m not saying I’m bisexual, I’m not saying I’m gay, I’m not saying I’m straight. Or anything in between. I’m not even defining myself as “questioning”. I’m just rejecting the idea that we should be labelled as something until proven otherwise, I’m starting from a clean sheet if you like.

In the mean time, I just want to join in the conversation. I wish the rest of the church would too. I’m sure there are plenty of Christians in fact who already are, so I’m off to find them and I hope at some point I can take a few others with me. 

A personal reflection on Psalm 1

[[This is a first draft of an attempt at a reflection on Psalm 1. I use daily Bible notes which are meant to help the reader apply a passage of the Bible to their lives, but I think it's a hard task to write something meaningful and helpful in only a couple of brief paragraphs, and to make the application points so general that they'll suit everybody. I wanted to experiment with something a bit more personal, a sort of  guide through my own reflections on a few Psalms, without trying to create a one-size-fits-all style devotional guide. I wanted to see if reading one persons reflection was helpful for other people in thinking through the specific relevance to their own lives. I want to make a little booklet of a few of them, and get friends to try them out and report back. So this is attempt number one.]]

At 22, in my final year of university, and faced with a seemingly infinite number of choices about the life panning out before me, a good bit of wisdom never goes amiss. Psalm 1 is known as a wisdom psalm, sharing its literary style and themes with other wisdom literature like Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. This kind of writing in the Bible often has a sense of passing down advice through the generations, sharing the accumulated wisdom of many years experience. I imagine this Psalm as a poem sent from a grandparent on an important birthday, making sure I know how to make the most of my years to come.

It asks us a big question, the answer to which will shape our lives – whose advice are you going to take? We’re given two options, a group described as “wicked”, “sinners” and “mockers” (v1) or the law of the Lord. When I consider my usual sources of advice, I’m not at all sure they fit into either category. I haven’t been to the local prison to ask if or when I should get married, nor turned to Leviticus to see if I should apply for a graduate scheme next year. It’s common in wisdom literature, and in Hebrew thought in general, to use polar opposites to make a clear point, and sometimes that feels uncomfortable to our post-modern, tolerant, accommodating way of thinking. But sometimes we need to be jolted out of our ambiguous, shades-of-grey thinking. Jesus uses such contrasts – “whoever is not with me is against me.”[1] It’s difficult to swallow, but however lovely and genuinely helpful our friends and family are, ultimately they fall on one of two sides. Either they’re following God, and living for him, or they’ve rejected God and are living for themselves.

It’s worth noting the second alternative, the law of the Lord. If we think of law in its narrowest sense, the rules which told the Israelites not to each shellfish and to make sure they had a fence around their roofs, it feels pretty hard to “delight” in (v2). It feels more like a burden to bear. But when God gave his law to the people of Israel, it was never intended as a burden. When God gave the law at Sinai, it was all about relationship; it was about God choosing Israel as his treasured possession.[2] He gave them a blueprint, a gift which would show them how to live as his special people. They were to be “a kingdom of priests”[3], in other words a nation who would stand in the gap between the rest of the world and God, pointing other nations towards Him. It was a real privilege, and the law was a gift from God which would tell them how to do it. We still need God’s blueprint for life now, as His special people. We need to know how to live in relationship with Him, and how to live in a way which shows Him off to other people who don’t yet know Him. While some of the laws which helped Israel to do that wouldn’t help us in the same way now (for instance, a fence around the roof of my house wouldn’t do much good, as I don’t tend to have parties on it like the Israelites could have), the concept of God’s law is still the same – his gift of a guidebook for us, to show us how to live “life to the full”.[4]

The Psalmist wants to help us to decide then whose advice we will take, by giving us a plant-based analogy of the consequences of each option. On the one hand is the person who is like a tree (v3). This person refuses to get too comfortable with the advice of those who are against God. If I want to be this person, it doesn’t mean that I never ask my non-Christian friends for their opinions and help on my specific situations in life, of course I’m still to share my life with my friends. But I need to be aware that the priorities and assumptions, for instance of the glossy magazine I might pick up, will be very different from God’s. So I shouldn’t get too comfortable with taking my advice on sex and relationships advice from there. The problem is that its worldly advice we’re consuming all the time, without wanting to or even realising. Through various forms of media and people, we’re constantly being told what to spend our time and money on, what our priorities and career plans should be, how to dress and how to attract people. If we choose to not get comfortable with that advice and instead to listen to God’s blueprint, the law of the Lord, we’re going to need to do some serious countering. An hour a week in church, especially if I spend it doodling or turning the service sheet into an origami rabbit, will never drown out the saturation of worldly advice. I need to meditate on God’s blueprint for my life day and night (v2). This isn’t a meditation in the ‘clear your mind and think of nothing’ way, but a call to a serious focus, filling our minds with the words which God speaks about our lives instead. For me, this means trying to read a bit of the Bible when I wake up, and walking through the coming day in my head, imagining what different the message I’ve read will make to the things I say and do. Sometimes it’s meant writing a particular verse on a card in my purse, or setting it as a reminder on my phone, it’s meant putting posters on my wall and texting verses to friends. It’s trying to get my heart and mind as saturated with God’s word as it is by other messages and advice, and choosing to listen to Him instead.

The results are where the plant analogy comes into force. The person who chooses to listen to God’s law is like the tree – satisfied and strong, productive and prosperous (v3). It makes sense that following the Designer’s plans would produced a life like this. This tree has roots, it is connected to food and drink, it never goes thirsty. It reminds me of what Jesus said about himself as the one who could fully satisfy. In relationship with God, our deepest desires are met, and living His way ensures that. The tree produces fruit too, it has a purpose and it’s useful. It brings about good things. People who are productive, creative, bringing about a better world in the places they are and the things they do, those people are satisfied people. God’s blueprint tells us how to really live out our purpose.

The alternative is not such a nice image, listening to the world instead makes a person like “chaff” – dry and parched, easily swayed, not anchored or rooted in anything much. In fact, by listening to the advice of the wicked, those who are against God not for him, this person becomes “wicked” themselves (v4). The chaff is ultimately pretty useless, being discarded in favour of the wheat it came from, the useful part of the plant. But a sense of dissatisfaction and purposelessness are not the worst consequences of this way of life: v5 puts this whole decision about advice and lifestyle into a much bigger context. At the judgement, the day when we stand before God to give an account of our lives, those who have rejected God as the Designer of their lives will not stand. They’ll be judged guilty.

It’s a sobering note to end on. The difference between these two groups is crucial though – it’s not simply that one is obedient and one disobedient, that one tried harder than the other to be good. No, God’s law was never what made people right with Him. No-one will stand innocent at the judgement because they were good enough, because they obeyed the law enough, or even because they tried hard enough.[5] The law was given for people who were in relationship with God. He’d brought them out of Egypt where they had been slaves and made them into His own special nation. It wasn’t because they were good enough or tried hard enough. It certainly wasn’t because they obeyed God’s law: He hadn’t even given it to them yet! It was because God showed grace, kindness and love to them. The blessed person in the Psalm wants to live according to God’s blueprint because they have experienced the love and kindness of God, bringing them into relationship with Him. The wicked person rejects God’s law and listens to the world’s advice instead, because they reject God and His offer of relationship.

So as I finish university and stand at this crossroads of my life, the decision I make here is crucial. Will I accept God’s offer of relationship, accept Him as the true Designer of my life, and fill my heart and my mind with His blueprint? Or will I reject Him and turn to the media, pressure from others, and my own inner desires to guide my life? If I want to be like the strong and satisfied tree, I’ll plan to live as one who longs to listen to my Creator, free to live life to the full, and free from fear of judgement.

                                                                      

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[1] Matthew 12:30

[2] Exodus 19:5

[3] Exodus 19:6

[4] John 10:10

[5] See Romans 3:20

I'm writing a book...

Writing a book has always been one of the top things on my bucket list (you know, the list of things you want to do before you die). But I always thought life would just present me with the right time to do it, probably at some point after I become Wise.

As I've thought more about what I want to do next year when I graduate* and have to go in to the World of Work, I just don't feel ready. I know it makes me sound like a knob, because most people don't have the luxury of just not 'feeling ready' to work, and I'm not sure I do either really. But my thinking is something like this: I've changed a lot at university, so most people who know me would say. I've grown up, I've had therapy, I've had some convictions shaken up, and others I've just better thought through. I've questioned my identity, I've discovered new identities. I've been left knowing far more about theology than I did before, and far less about myself and about life. That takes some processing, and I think it's a worthwhile process. When I'm in Oxford, I don't have much time to think and to process, there are a lot of essays and a lot of people. When I do find myself thinking, it usually means I forfeit sleep, or a decent essay. So if I want to think, to process, to work out if I've got anything to say to the world and how to go about saying it, I'll need a bit of time and space. 

I know the first thing I want to write though, my book. I can't explain what it is though, because I'm scared that if I try, it'll sound crap and I won't want to write it any more. It's a very fragile idea at the moment. But I want to try, to plan it, research it, write sample chapters, and see if anyone wants me to do it. If they don't, I'll probably just write it anyway, and consider myself one of those genius types who is only appreciated after their time. 

Today, I did Step One in the Grand Book Writing Plan. I bought a notebook for scribblings and thoughts. Actually, I did Step Two as well. I scribbled some thoughts. I'm not sure where one goes next in writing a book, but I know I need to get far enough into it that I can justify not diving straight into a graduate scheme or church apprenticeship straight after university, to make it a real project that is actually worth my time and energy. Maybe while I throw myself into that, I'll have time for all that other thinking I want to do too. We'll see. 

*I won't actually graduate for a while after I finish my degree because of Oxford's nonsensical system, but you know, I'll have finished the part of life where people tell me what to write and when.