Saturday 24 January 2015

Can't see the trees for the weeds!

Surveying my garden in Spring and early Summer, I am sometimes quite despairing. There is so much to do, and the weeds seem to overtake everything so quickly. My enjoyment of the new leaves on the trees and flowers blooming all around seems to get overtaken by the sense that the garden is so imperfect and needs work.

I thought this was quite a good analogy of how I can tend to live my life. Do I ever quite enjoy things as they are, or is my eye constantly drawn to what is not, or what is not quite right? (In the past, I have had to learn to curb this tendency, as my first response to any written piece was to point out all the spelling mistakes and grammar problems - I could spot them before I had read the page!)

On a similar note, a more recent discussion in our house has been about work related issues, where the response to criticism was a counter of "but you're seeing the glass as half empty". The reply was, "It doesn't matter whether the glass is half full or half empty. If you're offering me poison I still don't want it, and am certainly not giving it to others!"

In our schools, particularly primary schools, there has been a desire to encourage students and not to damage their fragile developing self-confidence. What led to, however, was everything being praised and mistakes left uncorrected. I read an article some time back that talked about the generation that has arisen from this. One of the problems is that there are many who cannot see that they need to work to improve and that they cannot just walk into the job they want because they want it. There is a lack of connection with how they view their abilities and the reality of their abilities.

Another example of this was from years ago in camp ministry. There was a girl who wanted to sing at the end of camp concert. She sang every year (not to mention the fact that she also had singing lessons). However, it was really unpleasant for everyone except her. As leaders, we had quite some discussion about this, wondering whether it was healthy to keep allowing her to live in this lie that she could sing (both her parents and the singing teacher told her how wonderful she was!), balanced with the knowledge that she would be devastated if we didn't allow her to perform. In the end, it was decided to be honest with her in the most loving way we could, because we felt it was an important part of her development.

I am also reminded of the idea that it takes something like eight praises to bring us back to the confidence we had before one criticism. How much responsibility do we need to take for this? And what is the balance?

Finally, though, I realise that the issue here probably has less to do with the balance of praise and criticism, and is more about what we actually base our worth on. As Christians, we like to state that we believe our acceptance and love from God is because we are His creation, and because of Christ's death for us. However, much of our subsequent behaviour seems to point to our value and worth coming from what we do.

You don't need to look far to see what I mean. How much do we give accolades to those who "make a name" out in the world, those who have written best selling books, who head up mega churches, who are prolific song writers or make it onto reality TV as singers and so on. I am reminded of the way in which many a guest preacher has been treated, (like royalty), in larger churches, protected from having to rub shoulders with the general congregation at any level, and at times, even venerated.

In Luke 14 Jesus is eating with some Pharisees and He addresses this very issue in a slightly different context. His setting is observing the way in which people seat themselves at a dinner party, taking the places of honour. The subsequent parables and other teachings show quite clearly those who were to be given the greatest honour - those who start with the least honour, or the "least of these", which would appear to include those who are less able, in poverty, insignificant, unlovely, young, despised and strangers, to name a few.

Returning to where I began, the issue is that my self-judgement can so often reflect more of how I think the world sees me, rather than being based on what God thinks of me. And I am all too aware that if my worth is all about what I do and how I think others perceive me, I will be trapped again in the bondage of continually looking for the next top up, either through my achievements, their accolades, or both. I have found that there is a place where I am loved without having to perform, that I am acceptable, even with morning breath and weeds in my garden, and I am always welcome, if I will just stop and abide a while with Him.



Thursday 8 January 2015

Rest on the Run





We went to see the third Hobbit movie the other night. What a marathon! About two hours into a movie that lasts just shy of two and half hours, I whispered to my husband, "I'm exhausted!" Without really needing to give a spoiler alert, possibly two hours of the movie is devoted to battle scenes. Toward the end of course (and this is a spoiler alert if you couldn't see it coming), just when you think all is sure to be lost and the few that are left have no more energy, the eagles swoop in and save what is left of the day, completely routing the enemy.


Something about this movie struck a chord with me, mainly because I have felt like I am in an ongoing battle on a number of fronts for most of the past year. I have been feeling exceptionally tired. At times I have wondered whether I can continue and sometimes I have wondered what I am even fighting for - does it even make a difference or is the outcome already decided? At the end of the movie, I found myself almost tearfully whispering, "God, send Your eagles, it is time for Your eagles. I need your eagles."

As I reflected on this over the next few days two things came to mind. The first was the words, "The battle belongs to the Lord". This well known verse comes from 1 Samuel 17:47, where David is proclaiming his victory against Goliath before it had happened. Although the context probably suggests this means the victory belongs to God, the perception I saw was that although I may have a role to play in the battle, it is not my battle; it is His. I don't have to take responsibility for the outcome.

The second part of my reflection was regarding how I can find rest and restoration in the midst of my battle-weary state. What does rest look like when you can't afford to let your guard down for a minute? 


I realised that the place of rest is in worship. Our battle song is one of worship of our great God. This reminds me of some of the Old Testament stories, where the people sang as they went to physical battle. As we worship, our eyes turn to God, and we see things from His perspective, particularly who God is and what He is about. This brings us hope and refreshing.

My end point on this reflection was the realisation that we actually have an opportunity to be the eagles. As I thought of verses about eagles in the Bible, I was immediately reminded of the promise from Isaiah 40:31



"they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." 

It is not something that comes automatically, though. We cannot rouse this strength by our own acts or abilities. It comes from waiting on the Lord. Not just stopping, but waiting in expectation and hope that He will show up and show us the way forward. And I think we must wait as long as it takes, as opposed to getting impatient and going on in our own strength and ways.

Personally, I think I probably need to practice that sort of waiting bit a little more.