Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence

German sociologist Hartmut Rosa has recently written The Uncontrollability of the World, in which he critiques our cultural attempt to eliminate risk, and reduce everything to a predictable set of results. While some areas of life need control, like me being in hospital(!), the ultimate attempt to control experience is, of course, impossible, and leads inevitably to a profound sense of depression and disappointment. 

Shrodinger's Theological Cat

I am writing this in hospital. I was having some seizures, down my left arm; when after one particularly painful incident, I went to A&E. Here, they diagnosed focal epilepsy, caused by tumours in the brain. At the moment, therefore, the staff are investigating to discover if these are primary cancers or secondary ones, derived from elsewhere in my body.

Ignatian Spirituality

Ignatius Loyola wrote his Spiritual Exercises, as a guide for discernment. Through them, we are encouraged to interpret our feelings, before God, to detect signs of whether we are moving towards, or away from, him.

Over a period of time, we examine our responses of consolation and desolation. Consolation is given by the Good Spirit, as an encouragement as we make intentions towards God. Desolation comes from the Bad Spirit, to discourage us, and make us move away from God. 

The Church in Wales

We visited a Church of Wales service while on holiday. There was an assortment of locals and tourists. No singing, because of Covid; just the liturgy. A lay-leader explained to us, that they had a tradition of supporting pilgrims, passing through, some as corpses for burial, to the holy island of Bardsey, which was known as a “thin place”, to be near the resurrection.

These Latter Days

 

No, I’m not going on an ‘end-times’ kick, but merely reflecting on how these ‘latter days’ of the pandemic are playing out. Ironically, as the vaccine begins to be rolled out in Britain, depression returns. Through most of the year, I had remained generally positive, responding to the emergency, with determined action. This was easy, because there were low expectations, nothing to justify. But underlying it, I suppose the perpetual darkness of the soul had persisted; what US singer Bill Mallonee calls our ‘blister soul’. 

Moving through the pandemic

The pandemic has proceeded through several phases and cycles. This is bewildering to the everyday pastor, trying to adapt to rapidly-changing medical prognoses and governmental pronouncements. However, much of the religious whining about our new lockdown is merely special pleading, with arguments similar to businesses who want exemptions, because their particular premises haven’t sparked outbreaks. Government though has to take account of where they may occur. But pastors’ dismay is exemplified in the oft-repeated joke, that they never got trained at seminary about how to deal with a pandemic. 

Contemplation and Combat

When I arrived in the inner city for ministry, it was common to recommend contemplative spirituality, the cultivation of silence, as a spiritual discipline. Digging into the works of Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen, would offer greater deeper resources for dealing with the stresses of urban mission. So, I built a practice, in my 20s and 30s, of regular retreats, and personal meditation. 

Kierkegaardian Covid Christianity

We are beginning to consider how we might structure our return to the church building after lockdown. It’s possible the government may allow “public gatherings” in July. So, we’re thinking through social distancing and hygiene, with reduced numbers at multiple services. But while there is an economic pressure, pushing people to return to work as soon as possible, church has a different ethos. We can afford to take our time, to be safe, caring for people not profits.

The Trees. The Trees.

The government permits one hour a day for outside exercise. But it sometimes feels more like a compulsory command. Nevertheless, it guarantees that I leave the house each day. Otherwise, on a Sunday afternoon, like today, when the weather turns cold, I might be tempted to stay inside all the time. And I do need that head-clearing, mind-refreshing, wind-blowing, it brings.

Dark Energy: The Psychology of Ministry in the Time of Covid

The surprising thing, for me, is that the Covid crisis hasn’t made me depressed. Stressed, yes. But that’s a different feeling, with an obvious cause. However, while I pretend to copy Paul in his concern for the church (2 Co. 11.28), there is a danger of burnout. According to John Sanford, ministry burnout occurs when we use up our ‘fuel’, the spiritual and emotional resources, needed for pastoral activity. But where to find new fuel? My spiritual director recommended once that I look for where I find ‘energy’ during the day, suggesting this would be a sign of the Holy Spirit’s presence in my life.

Prayer and the Present Moment

It’s become a cliché to say that this crisis is ‘unprecedented’. Of course, it is. The initial response for many of us was frantic activism, trying to devise our immediate pastoral response. For me, this involved: setting up a pastoral care system, organising online small groups, uploading regular Bible devotionals on YouTube, feeding homeless people, and supporting my leaders. Inevitably, despite encouraging my leaders to take a day-off, I failed to do so myself! Eventually, I ‘hit the wall’ (to illlicitly use a marathon runner’s metaphor, because I’m not a runner), and had to stop. Spirituality is also about rest.

Holy Corona Communion, Batman!

I got embroiled in a Twitter brawl by accident, when I happened upon a Tweet, by someone I didn’t know, and responded. He complained he was not able to take Communion, in his home, because there was no authorised person. I asked, why he didn’t do it himself? I shouldn’t have said it. I felt like an internet troll. And the thread eventually involved famous theologian John Milbank no less. A High Anglican, he defended needing a priest to officiate at Communion.

For me, this re-opened debates from when I taught at Spurgeon’s College – could we have sacraments online? Are they not necessarily physical events? I’ve seen, for example, baptisms in a MUD site, where people’s avatars are ‘dunked’ in virtual water. Is this a valid baptism? What about Communion, with virtual bread-and-wine, in “Second Life”? It seems to me, nevertheless, that sacraments do need physical embodiment. As Woody Allen said: “80% of life is turning up”. While I sympathise with those wounded by their church experience, that’s what the incarnation teaches: the essential bodied nature of Christian life.

A Catholic Jesus

Last week I met an old friend. He used to be my spiritual director, some years ago, and is now retired. He is (still) a Catholic Priest. You don’t actually retire from this, but remain a ‘priest for ever’. Nevertheless, he is now adapting to life without responsibilities, although still able to conduct Mass in several local churches, to keep his hand in.

We had a coffee and catchup chat in Costa, and reminisced. But what I really like about him is his cheerfulness and positivity, and above all, his infectious love for Jesus and the Gospel. I reminded him of an ecumenical conference he had been to, where, he had observed, none of the speakers once spoke about Jesus. And that is his abiding concern for the church, in general not just Catholics, that although we discuss many worthy subjects, we’ve stopped talking about Jesus – the Lover of Our Souls.

Learning to Pray

It is easy to criticise those who pray for healing or material provision, especially when we come from a comfortable, suburban or academic, social location. Sociology often shapes theology, frequently unconsciously. Prosperity teaching appeals frequently to the urban poor and immigrants, who desperately need God to come through for them.

It was in the inner city that I learned to pray, for example, for finances, not when ministering to rich millionaires, but asking God to provide for people’s rent, bills, and debts. Low level stuff. Prayer ministry lines developed, to intercede for immigration visas and housing problems, not goose-bumps for middle class charismatics.

Prosperity Theology: The Materialisation of Faith

Prosperity Theology contains a dirty little secret – that it possesses a kernel of truth. And this is an intuition that God cares – about our personal and material lives; which entails an active Divine opposition to everything that demeans our existence – in this case: illness and poverty.

Here it’s similar to another Twentieth Century theological development – Liberation Theology. Together, these re-introduced a ‘materialisation of faith’. While Prosperity Theology was individualistic and politically conservative, and Liberation Theology collectivist and left-wing, both highlighted the rediscovery of eschatology, specifically the doctrine of the Kingdom of God.

Prosperity Theology's Dirty Little Secret

It’s common for evangelicals to decry so-called ‘prosperity theology’ or ‘health and wealth teaching’. Many of us have had to pick up the pieces of people, whose hopes have been raised, and then dashed, by false promises of financial provision or physical healing. For some, this has led to a rejection of Christianity as such, because they now identify the faith with this particular distorted deviation.

Prayer Walking

We’ve just hosted a mission team from Hunter Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama. Our good ongoing relationship with them helps us impact our post-Christian city. One of their activities is Prayer Walking – when I say this, I realise it’s often just sitting around, and praying silently, while they observe the spiritual dynamics around them. However, their Pastor, Spencer Knight, earths this, by asking them when they debrief, “What spiritual needs did you notice in that location?”

I also once led a team to Turkey, where the evangelistic opportunities were slight, largely because of we couldn’t speak the language! The trip, however, turned into a Prayer Mission, as we interceded for the nation, and the particular towns we were visiting.

"Jesus Is My Boyfriend"

I’ve recently got into the music of Samuel Lane, a worship leader from the Vineyard churches, well-known for their tradition of intimate worship music. His songs are beautiful evocations of praise to God, which draw me in, and help refresh my relationship with Christ.

Some appropriate for corporate settings, others suitable as performed songs of personal experience, they have, nevertheless, been very helpful in renewing my faith during recent times of dryness. As expressions of spiritual devotion, they are basically love songs to Jesus; very reminiscent of Matt Redman’s songs, though perhaps more passionately delivered. And I need that energy.