He who has ears to hear

I spent today with my oldest friend. We’ve known each other since we were wee four year olds without a care in the world. When we were about fourteen our lives went down different paths; or rather I should say, that I took a diversion sign-posted ‘Jesus’. I hadn’t been seeking a road to spiritual enlightenment, but just happened by a lucky chance to stumble across this narrow pathway I might have easily missed, and, too curious to pass by, I took the detour. Today as we met up almost eight years on, here in my current whereabouts, Leiden, we updated each other on the goings on in our lives since our last meeting, almost two years ago.

I don’t necessarily realise how much I talk about God. To me it’s natural. He’s with me in the morning, throughout the day, before I go to bed and as I came to appreciate recently, in my dreams (more on that later). I’m just so used to God. He’s my reality and more than that, He’s the most important person in my life and the person I put my trust in, worries to, and direct both my frustration and happiness towards. But my friend said to me today as I was recounting stories, ‘Do you not think you’re reading God too much into everything? I mean what do you think?’ I guess I had just told her about how I felt like God wanted me to move to the Netherlands, God had provided the finances and how I wasn’t sure what God wanted next. From her point of view, I guess it seems like I’ve been taken over to a certain degree and that I should step up, make my own decisions and not let someone else (if indeed God isn’t a mere figment of my imagination) take the reins. ‘You think about God too much Nay’. The thing is, I don’t think I think about God nearly enough.

God isn’t just the object of my religion, which I have fanatically taken to the extreme. I wouldn’t even consider myself a religious person – religion stinks for the most part. But God is more real to me than my own hands! I am sure to the depth of my battered and fragile soul that He’s there and not just there as if He was outside and beyond me, but that He’s here with me, next to me, within me by His Spirit. This sounds weird? I’d probably think the same if I was still on the same road my friend and I both started out on. She asked me today, ‘But how come it works out for you? Why don’t other people see this stuff? Isn’t it coincidence?’

It’s true we’ll never completely escape the subjectivity of personal experience and I can’t prove to you that my landing £10,000 by a non-law-of-nature-breaking-means two weeks before I moved to the Netherlands (completely covering costs that I was in no state to even scrape towards otherwise) was any more than lucky coincidence. But rather than thank my lucky stars, I have attributed it all to a God that I believe loves me and knows my name and had the logistics worked out and a redemptive plan ready to execute when I unsuspectedly turned in front of a fast-moving car as a starry-eyed eighteen year old new driver and obliterated my parent’s car and almost one of my best friends.

My interpretation: “I’ve got that covered” God must have thought as He saw me beside myself with hysteria, anxiety crippling my lungs at the fear that I had killed my passengers. But four years on, my friend who was badly injured has been miraculously healed of her injuries, met this God for herself and as a result half-funded my year here with the compensation from the accident, which she wanted to use for God’s purposes. Pretty sweet turn of events. Coincidence?

The Bible says, he who has ears to hear, let him hear (Matt 11:15).

I can’t help but chuckle. So I told you we’d return to the dreams. Well the other day, I dreamt that God gave me some words that He wanted me to tell a friend of mine. When I woke up in the morning, I could remember them word for word, an uncommon experience, but although I wrote them down, I decided this was probably just me reading too much into things again. You’ve all been bored by a friend recalling an incoherent and in your eyes insignificant dream. Well I put this dream on the don’t send-them-all-to-sleep shelf until the next morning when the said friend came on facebook and I just felt an urge to tell him after all. With the caveat that I might have an overactive imagination, I hesitantly shared with him the words that I felt God wanted him to hear. ‘No way. I was praying last night and felt God say the exact same thing to me’ was his response. Flippin’ crazy, I’m no Mystic Meg.

But then it dawned on me that in the same dream, God revealed to me that another friend had something up with her ears and that I should pray for healing for her. So following the confirmation that my dreams were at least freakishly accurate if not God-inspired I took a stab in the dusk and asked my mate if she had anything up with her ears. Without confusedly remarking on the oddity of my question, she nonchalantly tells me that she thinks she has an ear infection. I told her that was weird as I had had this dream and would she like me to pray for her. Yes she would. We meet up and I pray. Her ears get better. Earie business.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this all. Perhaps the Dutch air is making me dizzee. If you’ve got ears to hear though, take out the plugs of preconception and let ‘em hear a new song, which might seem a bit bonkers. It’s rocking my socks off.

Divine Romance

When I first decided to follow Jesus, I remember feeling like my eyes had been opened up to a whole new world where anything was possible. I went from resignedly wondering ‘is this it?’ about my meagre existence, to a giddy excitement; the kind that a novel romance might conjure up.

But starting my relationship with Jesus didn’t just make me feel better looking, more interesting or more desirable than I had without him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I did feel damn special and pretty significant all of a sudden, but this divine romance effortlessly thwarted the menial butterflies of school-fling-frolics and utterly changed my outlook on life. Now I was day dreaming about what l automatically assumed was bound to be an adventure. It had to be right, anything is possible for God.

This is what I pondered the most. Excitement is an understatement. What I started to read in my Bible (which I desired to read even more than I had used to desire to read and reread soppy texts during the pastimes that they cluttered my inbox) was that Jesus was absolutely wonderful and through his father God could do anything. I was particularly captured by the fact that he healed everyone he saw. Wow, this is the guy that has pursued me, died for me and who takes the blame for the bad stuff I have done, so that I also get to call his father ‘dad’(Matthew 6:9). This is the guy that said I am not a servant but can call him ‘friend’ (John 15:15). I was obsessed by what being the daughter of God and friend of Jesus might mean for me.

Think about a person that is special to you. Perhaps you sent them a card today or maybe you are feeling a little disappointed that you would have liked to receive a card from them. Whether it’s love or strong admiration you feel, it can be so wonderful, allowing that significant other to consume your waking thoughts... What makes them happy? What makes them sad? Where would their perfect day be spent? What do they love doing? Do they enjoy the rain? What are their dreams? Do they think about me? Where will they end up in life?

I have been to the heights of loved-up. It can be pretty breath-taking. Perhaps you’re on the lovey peak of Everest today, but you know you could be up a mountain that would make a molehill out of your summit. I’m talking about Jesus. He promises so much more than a string of great dates, so much more than a great sex life, so much more than an exotic holiday, a white wedding, 4 bedroom detached house and kids, and so much more than a great job and a golden Labrador! None of these things are bad by the way, but they’re not the ultimate sources of satisfaction in life either. When I started to spend my thoughts on Jesus I felt more fulfilled and enchanted than ever before. No guy could cast this spell.

I am daily in awe of him, he is better, more glorious and lovely than I can grasp and anything is possible for him, and through him, for me! I am so excited about our future together. I can only faintly imagine what he might have in store for me.

Perhaps today is a sensitive day for you. Maybe you are dissatisfied in your relationship, maybe you are jealous of your friends that they're in one and you’re not, or you are feeling worthless and unattractive. Whichever category you fall into, Jesus is crazy about you and would love to invite you into (or continue) a divine romance with him. Let him sweep you off your feet. His arms are open wide and chocolate, roses or even an engagement ring were not enough to show it - he gave his very life in love for you. He promises only good to you. He is faithful and won’t get bored. He is exciting and abundant in love. He is crazy about you and relentlessly pursuing you. Why don’t you give him a try? He might be the best valentine’s offer you have ever had.

I AM LOVED BY GOD AND THIS MAKES ME HAPPY.

A church plant?

I realise that several of my blogs have a) been a bit angsty and b) been a bit me, me, me. I’m sure my initial motivation for setting this blog up was to encourage you dear reader (excuse the period drama speak) about my amazing God and tell you about the adventure of planting a church. It has occurred to me that I have said little about this church-planting malarkey and some of you still remain in the ‘unknow’ about what I am actually doing.

In fact I’m sure over Christmas a few people asked how the church I’m building was going. Such has been my ambiguity, that some of you think me heroic enough to be part of a building project. Let me clarify, once and for all, that I am not involved in physically resurrecting a church.

To dispel another myth that none of you have been sheepish enough to query, I am not physically planting a church either. Hopefully you will have by now realised that this is a metaphor, even if you couldn’t quite work out what it implied. They plant a lot of tulips over here, but to my knowledge church bulbs are as of yet, unavailable, even in the Netherlands. Apologies for the confusing terminology that Christians have chosen to adopt here. The term ‘church plant’ is a metaphor alluding presumably to the fact that when you start a church from scratch it begins small and formless like a wee-seedling and then becomes a massive sunflower, bush, tree [insert your favourite foliage in here].

So I am in Holland planting a church, which means in plain English, that I am part of a team of people who have moved to The Hague to start meeting together to worship Jesus and we hope that by starting jobs, university courses here and getting involved around our neighbourhoods and with activities that float our respective boats that we will befriend people, introduce them to our amazing God and then flourish into a wonderful church (photosynthesis galore) as more people decide to join us. There are currently over 40 of us meeting on a Sunday, but the number seems to be creeping up weekly.

We don’t have our own building yet and are renting another church’s hall, but in mid-March we are hoping to move more centrally into The Hague, we’ll possibly be renting a theatre, but we are still waiting on God for this. Where we meet isn’t the most important thing though, we just want to be somewhere with space for all our activities and somewhere that’s really easy for everyone to get to.

Our desire as a church will be to see new people meet and glorify Jesus and as they do to see the city of The Hague blessed as lives are restored, broken relationships are reconciled, the sick are healed and for God’s love and joy to reign in our lives. It’s also our desire to be a multicultural and economically diverse church, which truly reflects God’s heart for all people.

There’s one final thing to clear up. Some of you seem to think that I am working for the church. This is not true per se. I am here simply as a regular member, but we are all needed to make church happen. We each are essential to meet invite our friends and people we meet to church (or Chris, our leader, would be preaching to empty chairs), but we are also needed to make church practically happen (serving tea and coffee, helping out with the kids’ work, playing in the worship group, welcoming people etc.) When I’m not at church (which is most of the time) I am still loving and worshipping Jesus, but in a different way. The Bible says that we should offer our whole lives to God as living sacrifices (Romans 12:1). I do this in Leiden mostly as I enjoy my MA course, rowing and spending time with all the wonderful people I have met so far.

Hope that clears things up a little. I’ll keep you posted with our progress as a church, as well of course as with my personal adventures. And any questions - just whack ‘em in my direction!

Now

So I'm feeling really very frustrated as I have an imminent deadline for an essay, which ashamedly I have not started (and what's more, I have a second deadline on the selfsame day, for another paper that I haven't started either ... the dreaded day is January 31st - a party will follow!) The cause of my frustration is that I have to set my own title and the subject matter is 'death'. No wonder I don't feel so cheery. I just don't know where to start - I'm dead stuck... (rubbish gaff that my mum cracked earlier!)

A few of the questions that have been racing around my head: Everyone dies, so why do we fear death? What is it that we fear - pain or non-existence - or the worry of an afterlife and its essence? Is there a right time to die? When people are feeling suicidal, do they want to terminate their very existence, or do they just want to be free from the circumstances that life has dealt them? Should we prolong life for as long as possible or go to meet death?

I'm getting into an existential pickle (imagine if they sold that in jars). Last night, overwhelmed by the certainty - and yet uncertainty - of death, I lay in bed and listened to a sermon on Ecclesiastes and then this morning, I read it for myself. Life is a vapour. It passes us by. Everything good, or bad, comes to an end. So we need to embrace the moment and find God in it. To know His peace. I have been feeling less alive over the last few days whilst writing my papers in solitude. It's been an isolated dull(ish) succession of hours, punctuated only by food - how I love it! - and I have craved company other than my computer screen. I am a social animal. Ecclesiastes assured me that I was (or am, I should probably say) alive and that I should tune my head into NOW'fm rather than wishing away the present. So I did and the result, was this poem:

Now is the moment that I live for

Yesterday is a dream

Tomorrow is a possibility

A stream trickling past me into an amass of sea

I dip in my toe

Asserting the Now with a little splash

Undoes the shackles of regret

Unweights the worries in my chest

Alive in the stillness; this non-event

Torrents howl and fall

You're here, not vapour.

And on that note, I should probably proceed with my essay. There's no time like the present eh?

Here and there

I am sorry that I haven't blogged for over a month and I am also sorry that I will not do what I promised to in the last sentence of my previous blog. I had been toying with sharing some pretty emotional stuff, which would have made me very vulnerable to you all, as well as other folk involved. It is partly for that reason that I have not posted for so long, but also simply because I have been so incredibly busy.

I have just got back to Leiden from my time at home in the UK over Christmas and New year. (My time was an absolute blast. Thanks to those of you who blessed me with your presence.) On the way to the airport, I felt like I was snapping a lot at my mum. When I have underlying sadness I can be really quite a grump. I managed to suppress my tears as we neared Luton. Despite having felt so called here, months and months ago, I just did not want to return. Maybe my Christmas holiday at home was always going to be a better memory than what I imagine will follow this term, in virtue of the fact that holidays are meant to be full of relaxation and FUN and now I have only 20,000 unwritten words to keep me company. My time in Leicester and London had felt so right: two homely spheres between which I feel I fully belong.

Here, I am still an outsider and not completely settled. Arriving at Schipol last night, I just had to commit it to God. I do not actually want to be here (mind you if I was still living in London, things would have changed). Over the last week though, I feel God has reminded me, that my voyage over here was never about me. My walk as God's child is not about bending God's arm to make my life as easy as possible, but about submitting my will to His, for His glory and my joy. Volunteering to cooperatively be part of the larger plan and what a plan I cannot imagine... Jesus taught that we should be willing to give everything up for Him, the pearl of great price. I had forgotten that last semester and wondered why I found myself getting miserable. What I need to focus on, is that Jesus also teaches that if we give up our life for Him, we will truly gain it. Life to the full? (John 10:10) Yes please!

Hopefully, there won't be such chasms between blogs from here on; that being said I have to submit three papers and move house over the next couple of weeks, so no promises. I will conclude this notelet with a poem I wrote this morning:

Trains come and go

But you remain the same

Planes take off and land

But you remain the same

You are the platform and the port

There when I arrive and when I leave

And of greater comfort is this:

You go on the journey with me

Therefore, as I travel and as I go

Here and there and to and fro

I shall not be shaken

My God, you're here with me.

Rowing in the dark

The other night I was in rowing in the dark. (Well that's not strictly true, it was actually my turn to coxwain, which is amusing for the girls powering the boat, as I am meant to be the one supplying the inspirational instructions, but the requirement for me to give these commands in Dutch, probably causes more stomach-creased amusement than abdominal sturdiness and focus.) Fortunately for us all, there were several prolonged moments of silence, with only the occasional gentle splashing of the river over their oars, disturbing the eerie peace. Gliding unhurriedly through the waters which rippled apart for our boat like melted chocolate in the dim light of the moon, I was reminded of a dream I had two years ago on a distant part of the planet. The dream that is, was dreamt in Australia, but I confess I have no clue which ocean was its scenery.

In the dream I was sitting on the front of a small and humble yacht, surrounded by vast and unending sea. I remember a tension of emotions: the threat of being overwhelmed by agoraphobic awareness at the colossal waters, but at the same time a sort of awe at the majestic seas trickling over the horizon. I was sitting with my feet dangling over the front of the boat as it sailed slowly towards the ever-moving edges of the sea. I had no idea where I was going and whether I would ever get there. The water was an eternity spreading out before me, but I became completely calm because my toes weren't just dipping impersonally into the plethora of sea, but were stretched out to touch the tips of a tail rising up from an enormous shadow beneath the surface. Swimming bucolically before the boat was a beautiful blue whale. I can vividly call to mind at will how I then felt looking ahead at an oceany abyss; would-be-terror subdued by my not being quite alone. The whale’s flight was gentle yet purposeful; my feeling of meaningless abased by the communication of my little podgey toes with this mighty creature of calm and harmonious navigation. I didn't need to know where I was or where I was going. I felt peaceful in the midst of an otherwise uncomforting infinity.

A while after having this dream, unable to escape its impressing image, I asked God what it might mean. I felt him interpret it for me. He was my shepherd in the deep. So often I worry about what's behind me, (the unhelpful 'what ifs' of my past) I worry about what's beside me (the pressures, stresses and demands of the present) and I worry about what's ahead of me (the future: am I heading towards my destiny? Will I make the right choices? Have I already scuffed up Plan A for my life? Am I fulfilling my potential? What does my life even mean? What is the point? Will I make it to the end?). But as I consulted my heavenly dad, I felt assurance wash over me as I realised that the magnificent whale in the dream had been him with me. He was guiding me through the troubling waters of life. And because he was there, they were still. It didn't matter that I was a million miles from eternity's shore, because I was safe and God not only knew exactly where I was with all that surrounded me then, but he also knew exactly where I’d come from, and what’s more he knew where we were headed to and was leading the way. The huge mammal wasn't hurried or flustered, like me as the cox. There was no one or nothing to disturb our tranquil sojourn.

I felt reminded too that in the absence of the spectacular (in the dream there were wasn’t a storm, a fight with pirates, a shark attack, riding on dolphins, conversing with mermen, or anything else that might have been characteristic of a sea-orientated remarkable dream – it was just me in the boat and the whale on a journey), God still goes ahead of me. One day I will look back or maybe I’ll catch a bird’s eye view (that’d be cool) and I’ll see the pathway, like wet tracks across the sea that my life has forged, but I don’t need to worry about what direction those tracks will spread into, nor force them into being. Jesus comforts me saying: Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:34) As I silently coxed in the dark, I experienced a baptism of peace, even though the flurry of my next frustrated Dutch command was soon due. I still don't completely fit in here and I still don't quite get why God wants me here, neither can I imagine what I will look back on in years to come, but because I am following the whale - the beautiful beast before me, I will not be fearful, even though there's 'water, water, everywhere'.

I don’t quite know whether the season I’m in at the moment fits neatly into my ‘high’ or a ‘low’ category among those moments in my life which I can easily compartmentalise, but I do know that I am excited to see what’s next. I love the adventure of following God. Sometimes he asks some pretty scary stuff of me and I have no idea how I can possibly make such decisions for him, without life changing radically. But I’ll take the risk of radical changes because I do not want my life to be like an idle ship on a painted ocean – I want the dynamism that comes from following, even when it hurts and my trust seems blind. Next time I will tell you about one of the most difficult decisions I ever made, which I guess in hindsight was a little bit like rowing in the dark.

Holy Buzz

[direct continuation from last blog]

... I was invited to go with some friends of the family to a Christian conference during the Easter holidays. The only reason I agreed to go was because it was at Butlins and I figured I could skip the Christian stuff for the fairground and the water rapids! Well to my annoyance, my friends' mum insisted that we sign up for the teenagers' programme. I was disgusted to see my peers singing passionately and 'getting into' prayer and listening to all this religious malarky. I always sat at the back during the sessions scowling and cringing at the thought of my school friends knowing I was there. I was made to go to the programme all week.

On Friday something shifted inside. Rather than scowling, I started to cry. I can’t even remember what was said, but I heard about Jesus for the first time, which was odd as I’d been going to church all my life – maybe it was just that my ears were now open. I heard a woman at the front speaking about how we have each done stuff that we’re ashamed of and have not acknowledged God in our lives, eventhough he loves us and made us to be in relationship with him, we have ignored or discarded him. I heard about how this Jesus, who I'd always pictured woodenly in a distant manger or on a crooked cross in some life-sucking church building, had actually died to give me life! Apparently, me rejecting God, the giver of life, was going to result in death. I had freely chosen death and deserved to be separated from God forever, but on that wooden cross Jesus died a death that should have been mine to reconcile me to God, and to bring me back into the relationship I had destroyed!

I know this all sounds mental and as I type it, I'm like - do I actually believe this? But yeah 14 year old, teenage-angsty me just started balling my eyes out and deep deep down, I knew it was true! I think I'd always kind of assumed that God loved the world, but the fact that he loved me personally was revelation. I felt a tug on my heart and I just knew that I had to let this Jesus in and say sorry to God for turning away and thank you to Jesus for making a way back to God. Balmy I know ... This was a very inconvenient acknowledgement – it was a Friday night if I remember rightly and if I was at home, I’d be stoned, drunk, or both! This Christian thing, just wasn't me... I wasn't sure how well behaved I could be and whether I could stop the drinking and pot-smoking... It took me (and is still taking me) lots of time to continuously realise that following Jesus is not about moral behaviour, but we'll come to that at some later date. So yeah, I said this prayer to God, pretty much like: 'Erm God I know you're there and I know that I haven't exactly been letting you into my life, but I can feel you calling me, I'm not exactly sure what you're calling me to, but I can just feel a tug and how can I say 'no' if it's true that your son died for me - that's amazing. So yea, thanks for dying for me Jesus and sorry for disregarding you. I think I want to follow you.'

And that was it. I was a Christian. I hadn't become weird and sandal-with-sock-wearing and I wasn't thrusting around the Holy Scriptures and bashing people all of a sudden; but I did feel like my eyes had opened for the first time and I was buzzing! It was like I was drunk or stoned, or both, but I just felt all tingly and alive in a very raw way, but this was a holy buzz. I felt on top of the world. I had begun a relationship with the creator. I couldn't believe it. (My friends as it happened, had not responded to God and I couldn't work out why they were not as excitable as me, but I didn't care too much and was dancing around like a bit of a loony). It is probably worth me mentioning now, that life as a Christian, doesn't always make me feel fluffy and invincible and is sometimes times really tough, but that was my experience at the very beginning. That being said, living life for Jesus is an adventure! I wouldn't want it any other way. My question of 'Is there more?' was answered with a resounding 'YES' from the heavens and life has never felt boring since. My trials mean something and my destination is significant. I am not blowing in the wind, but am standing firm on a rock. I will continue next time to share some of the highs and lows of my walk with Jesus so far ...