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Have You Read The Shack?

I’ve just finished reading The Shack by William Paul Young. This is a novel about a man whose young daughter is abducted and presumed killed. As a work of fiction, and without giving anything away, the plot is somewhat fantastical but the book seriously attempts to deal with that key question: how can we believe in a loving God when there is so much suffering, and especially when the innocent are brutalised and families torn apart? If God could speak, what would He/She say to us? As such the book is full of theological concepts and arguments, but they are presented within a fascinating story with lively dialogue that makes the whole read far from a dry and tedious textbook.

While I might be uneasy with some of Young’s theology, and that would be nit-picking, I can honestly say that I have never cried as much over a single book. It presents a triune God who is passionately in love with all creation, yet who must respect the independence and free will of humanity, even when that freedom entails sin and deviation from God’s plan. We become aware of God’s raw anguish and His/Her nearness and presence to all human suffering. We see a God who is not distant from human suffering – who in fact co-suffers with us and bears our scars. As such it echoes my own theme and poem of an: Unmighty God

The author rightly stresses the importance of relationship and the basis of that relationship as love. At the core of all existence is the eternal relationship of God as Trinity – utterly giving to each other and utterly self-sufficient in their love. From their overflowing love comes their creation of the human drama, where God seeks to include us completely in this everlasting bliss. For Young, relationship with God even comes before membership of a church and any institutional codes of conduct. Knowing God as loving Parent/Son/Spirit is the only real source of freedom. This correlates to the importance of a contemplative practice: we can never grasp God with our mind but we can experience something of His/Her love – if we give time and focus quietly on that inner realm.

I would join the many others who recommend the book. It is thought provoking and might just change our perception of God from a distant and troubling judge figure to an intimate, warm, passionate, involved, even humorous soul-mate. You can get more information if you go to http://www.theshackbook.com

There is also a film version of The Shack which I have just ordered online. So while I haven’t yet seen the film, and I’m often wary that a film never quite captures the essence of a book, I’m looking forward to seeing it – with a box of tissues nearby.

In that supreme relationship of love,

Martin

The Regular Life

When I joined my religious order back in the 1970s, the first year was called the novitiate, and we eight young fellows were the ‘novices’. That first year was like no other year I have ever lived before or since, because we lived a monastic life. The years after the novitiate were different because the religious order I joined was termed ‘semi-contemplative’ which meant that the fully trained members, priests and brothers, spent time in the monastery but they also could spend time outside – not holidaying of course, but serving the people of God in a variety of different roles.

This year of novitiate was truly unique because we young men were living an entirely monastic life – what was called the ‘regular life’, as virtually every minute of our day was timetabled and accounted for. There was a set time for getting up (early!), and prayers, meals, even recreation and quiet time were scheduled. We even had a brief slot called ‘remission’ which was a kind of ‘at ease’ before we moved on to the next set task. And each and every day was largely the same, though again, during a typical week we had certain days for fasting and penance and another day for recreation, which included the possibility of a glass of beer! It also followed that I never saw my family for the full year, and managed one quick phone call home on a rare day out before my few coins ran out!

This strict and ordered life may seem somewhat like a prison camp, and for sure, we were dedicated to an ideal of service and self-denial, but – for someone like me who had never had much self-discipline – the experience of this monastic living was actually liberating. When discipline is imposed on you and – crucially – you accept it in the spirit in which it is lived, then this regular life gave you a powerful structure, a formal purpose, and removed much of the equivocation and procrastination that is all too common in daily life.

Obviously we were living as celibates and had no parental, family or outside responsibilities, so we could give ourselves to the pattern of this monastic life. The motto was “soli deus et studiis”, meaning “God alone and study”. This may actually sound like quite a selfish and insular way of life, and in some ways it was, but it was designed for a specific purpose, and within that parameter it provided a powerful dynamic that was wonderfully liberating.

It goes without saying that, for those of us who persevered through the novitiate and then went on to be students for the priesthood in a modern university setting, the regular life quickly ceased as we launched ourselves into the hubbub and excitement of student life. The regime in the ‘house of studies’ was much more relaxed and the support that the regular life had provided was promptly removed.

That year of novitiate was for me a taste of the full monastic life, and I think it gave me an appreciation of both the hard sacrifice and the amazing power of that ‘enclosed’ life that so many monks and nuns live. In their sacrifice and their liberation it would be a mistake to think that they had shrunk from a ‘normal’ life and were avoiding the ups and downs of family and societal living. Their dedication in prayer can actually make them more focussed on the joys and sufferings of others. From my vantage point of an older age and a family life I can see the immense beauty of such a life dedicated to God.

I suppose the challenge for us outside the monastery might be to find ways and structures that can, without being too restrictive, give us the kind of beneficial support that such a regular life can provide. What realistic time slots and schedules could I embrace that would counter a tendency to shilly-shally my way through each day? And what especially could I do to ensure that there is proper time for God in my day? A more structured and God-centred day would – I know – immensely improve my life, my loving and my whole being. I know the theory – can I do the practice?

In His love,

Martin

A Sense of God

In my poem The Family Rosary I try to express in poetic form of how, as a young child holidaying at my grandparents’ farm in Ireland in the 1960s, the nightly family rosary was an important event in my spiritual growth.

Like most children growing up, religious practice could be boring and meaningless, and enforced attendance could often lead to rows and resentment towards parents who were sincerely trying to do their best. This was especially true in those days before the renewals brought about by the Second Vatican Council, when the Sunday Mass was almost impossible for a child to follow, if indeed any child could be bothered to follow it. And not only was the time spent in devotions difficult for a child, but this was backed up with, sometimes brutal, rote learning of the catechism and religious doctrine, and a frequent inquest as to whether Sunday services had been properly attended. How times have changed!

It was in this context of a child struggling to understand and conform to a traditional Catholic upbringing that the experience of the family rosary (which was also, somewhat sporadically, celebrated at home in London) had I think a quite amazing power.

It’s hard to adequately put into words what those nightly prayer sessions had on my youthful mind and heart. I say mind and heart because in truth this was not so much a mental evaluation of spiritual things but much more a deep touching of the heart. The whole experience of the cosy farmhouse kitchen, with the whole family gathered at the end of another hard physical day’s work, and grandad, without any objecting, suddenly took to his knees and began the prayer. The atmosphere went immediately from general family chit chat to a reverent hush that it seemed even the dogs responded to.

The rosary for those who are unfamiliar with it, is a traditional Catholic devotion that lends itself to group or family praying, being based on the repetitive saying of the Hail Mary within one of five ‘decades’ or sets of ten Hail Mary’s, each decade having a theme based on events in the life of Jesus and Mary as portrayed in the Gospels. As such the rosary easily becomes a communal chant, and in its rhythm and cadence, it becomes somewhat hypnotic – almost an entry point to a mystical experience beyond the actual words. And it doesn’t require a priest to lead the celebration!

The effect of this respectful hush and rhythmic chanting on a child is hard to exaggerate, especially when the atmosphere is effectively generated by the ‘significant adults’ in his or her life. As such, the experience reached deep into my core and while I certainly didn’t try to evaluate its effect at the time I think it’s undeniable to claim that it left a lasting impact. It may well have been the most important factor in my gaining a sense of God.

Cynics will claim that I was psychologically influenced by the overall experience, and that any so-called mystical experience is essentially a self induced ‘mind trip’. We never have definitive proof when it comes to spiritual things – faith is always required, and I have spoken elsewhere of the criticality and logic of faith. Suffice it to say that I believe I was somehow enabled to tune in to a Voice which is always singing in every human heart. God’s Word broadcasts constantly but we rarely tune in to His frequency. Perhaps some kind of a ‘pre-set’ radio button was created in my inner core by those summer nights of long ago which remained and was available to me whenever I felt the need in good times or bad?

For I certainly cannot claim that I have made vital use of this sense of God in my life. God always respects our freedom and never forces His way in. As Jesus put it, the blind cannot be blamed for not seeing – only those who see or claim to see can be guilty of any blame (John 9: 41). Perhaps I early on found the treasure in the field that Jesus spoke about, but unlike the man in the parable, I failed to really ‘sell all’ and go and grab that treasure (Matthew 13: 44 – 46)? I found, I saw, but have never really taken possession?

Whatever about me, surely a sense of God is badly missing in today’s world? Even many religious folk appear to be going through the motions, and their faith doesn’t appear to effect their daily lives or indeed their politics or world-views? For we can never grasp God with the mind alone. We can only really – in this life – attain a relationship of love with our God. As such, having a sense of God, a deep, inner awareness of His love, is that priceless treasure against which all other wealth and possessions are just so much junk.

We believers, of whatever denomination, need to find and make use of those prayer forms that will give us – and our children – that precious treasure. We need to do it today!

Martin

Peace in the Heart

What is peace in the heart?

I know one thing it is not. It is not an absence of bad things happening to us, such as suffering, conflict, betrayals, misunderstandings, and the whole gamut of woes that are part and parcel of life. If true peace depended on the absence of such things, then true peace would be unobtainable in this life, because few among us, if any, go through life without some element of suffering and woundedness. In fact, for those who live in love, pain and suffering are never far away, simply because to love others is to make yourself vulnerable.

So, if peace in the heart is not acquired by an absence of bad things (and was simply a result of a life of contentment and self-centred ease) just how is it possibly attainable for good folk, and is it in any way something that we can aspire to in this life?

The message of Jesus’ Gospel of Good News is yes, true peace in the heart is attainable, and attainable here and now. If it were not then it would be quite valueless for us – mere pie in the sky. God’s gift of peace – it is His gift – is precisely for here and now, in the midst of our real lives of joy and sorrow. How so? It seems contradictory.

The simple answer is that peace in the heart is based, not on an easy life, but in trust in God. It’s as simple and as difficult as that. Easy to put into words, not so easy to embody in daily life.

Those of us who are Christians may feel that we already trust God – after all, we pray, go to church, do our best to love one another, etc, etc. That’s wonderful, but if I say peace comes through trusting in God, then the acid test of our trust is precisely when things are dark and difficult. We can easily fool ourselves that we are truly trusting God when everything is great, but how deep is that trust and will it endure when things go wrong?

Many years ago, I preached on peace and afterwards a woman came up to me, blazing angry! When she cooled down she explained that her son was in the British army and had just been posted to Northern Ireland, which at that time was a very dangerous place for a British soldier. How could I talk about peace when she was frantic with worry? We prayed together and I tried to explain to her that peace was still possible for her, but she had to really put her trust in God. She had to trust that no matter what happened to her son, even injury and death, God would not lose him. She had to believe in God’s promise that nothing in this life, not even death, can separate us and our loved ones from His love. For God was not about to promise that her son would be kept safe but He did promise never to abandon or lose her son. As much as she loved her son, God loved him even more.

She came back a few days later and said that she began to understand but it was so very hard, and yet some degree of peace was already growing in her heart.

We’re not playing at games here, and neither is God. Life can be hard and God doesn’t promise to spare us from suffering, but He does promise to be with us with all the grace we need to endure. The secular world has nothing to offer – it can only suggest we avoid trouble – that is not peace! God’s gift of peace is of an entirely different order – Jesus is quite clear on this (John 14: 27).

Two very practical suggestions for gaining true peace in the heart!

~ pray every day with sincerity the beautiful prayer of Cardinal Mercier:

Oh, Holy Spirit, beloved of my soul – I adore you. Enlighten me, guide me, strengthen me, console me. Tell me what I should do; give me your orders. I promise to submit myself to all that you desire of me and to accept all that you permit to happen to me. Let me only know your will.

~ take St Paul’s advice to the Philippians to heart (4: 6 – 7):

do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

I have emphasised two phrases:

~ accept all that [God] will permit to happen to me;

~ with thanksgiving.

Yes, God must permit even bad things to happen to us in this life, but that doesn’t mean our peace can be shattered if we keep trust in His purpose and faithfulness.

And thanksgiving – if you can thank God in all things, then you really are a person who trusts in Him, and His peace is yours for the taking,

Martin

Does God Intervene?

Imagine the following scenario. A baby in a pram is being taken for a walk. Suddenly two cars pull up – a gangland feud – and shots are fired. A stray bullet kills the baby.

What are we to make of this awful tragedy? What especially can we meaningfully say about God in this situation? Was God there? Did He care? What did He do, if anything?

These may seem like pointless questions, and certainly for the shattered parents and family there are no answers. Moreover, thoughts of God may well bring anger and bitterness. As for words in general – words fall far short in the midst of grief. But can we try and make any sense of a senseless situation? Is there any healing? Is that baby, a unique person, gone from all existence?

In an earlier blog on the problem of suffering and a loving God, I stated that – in this life – God is impotent by choice. In other words, His key priority is to honour and maintain our freedom, and to do so He must stand back. Even more than stand back, He must begone and never interfere! So if I hold a gun to another’s head, and supposing God intervenes and takes the gun from me – then my freedom is compromised. The other guy may be saved from death or injury but something fundamental would have happened to my life and I, and all of us, would be little more than created robots, programmed to do God’s will in all things. This is a hard truth and there’s no getting round it: God cannot pull strings if we are to be free, free to choose good or evil.

In this life – but not in the world to come, the eternal life – God has to allow even bad things to happen. As I write this, Russia is waging war in Ukraine, and the suffering is obscene: indiscriminate death and injury, widespread destruction, families torn apart, wondering if they will see each other again – there are no adequate words to encapsulate the enormity of such suffering. Given the scale of such suffering, surely God might do something? How about a fatal heart attack on one of the key movers in this tragedy? That might change the dynamic and lead to an end to the war? Come on God, think of the benefits… But no, no discernable action on His part, no compromises on our freedom, no divine collusion.

Is God then heedless? Uncaring? Immune to human suffering? Too far above to be touched by our dramas? Did He kick start Creation and then left us to it, for better for worse? No wonder some people have conceived of a God who is little more than a cynical voyeur, sitting on high and enjoying the entertainment as His creatures bicker and fight.

Yet God still stands mute. In my poem God in the Dock, I wrote:

The case for the prosecution mounts:

Let the accused stand in the dock!

What blasphemy is this? Who are we

To call the shepherd to face His flock?

Can the creature demand that his Creator answer the charge? Where were You when the child was killed? Did You care?

I think one of the greatest compliments we can give to God is to be angry with Him. That may sound counter-intuitive but God Himself says: “I wish you were either hot or cold, but you are lukewarm! So I spit you out of my mouth!” (Revelation 3: 16) Strong words from God in scripture, suggesting that He would actually prefer us to be ‘cold’, as in, against Him, rather than being uninvolved or not passionate one way or the other. To be angry with Him is in fact to be engaged with Him!

To the question: does God intervene in human life, we must therefore say a fundamental no He does not. To ensure our radical gift of freedom He must begone from our midst, He must never pull strings, He must maintain an apparent silence (although He does speak in very many subtle ways). He simply must allow bad things when they happen.

One important exception: if any single person opens their heart and life to God’s will, then God can and does act through that person’s freely chosen stance. The individual’s freedom is not compromised and God can influence matters.

For our part, when terrible things happen, when suffering hits us, it is appropriate that we respond with honest questions of Him and yes, even anger against Him. He will bring all things together for those who love Him, and that means those who bother with Him. In His time, in His way. No easy answers, let’s be honest,

Martin