Hardcore!

What are you reading for pleasure?  Perhaps your taste is monochromatic, you only read one type of fiction, or perhaps no fiction at all.  Maybe your bookshelves boast a technicolor of literary delights.  In recent months, I've been working my way through the medieval mysteries of Ellis Peters' monk-cum-detective Cadfael.  I'm making that delight last longer by alternating these with anything else that takes my fancy among the many unread volumes I've collected down the years.

An interesting contrast has emerged.  Quite apart from the disciplines and ritual of the abbey, there is about Cadfael an unspoken and yet clearly understood spiritual dimension that is often - whether by accident or design - missing from the characters in other books, be they real or fictional.  I believe this is a reflection of life itself.  There are those people who have a true and deep-rooted faith that simply oozes out of everything they do or say, and there are others for whom any kind of religion is anathema.  Strung out between these two extremes is a whole spectrum of spiritual awareness along which most of us move this way and that as our life proceeds.

I cite as examples of these extremes, two characters from the Old Testament.  The first is Joshua who, knowing that he was coming to the end of his life, wanted to leave the Israelites the same encouragement that he had received from Moses, that they should follow God's commandments and would therefore enjoy all the good things that He had promised.  During their years of wandering in the desert, the people had picked up lots of bad habits from the tribes around them, and some of their beliefs and gods as well.  Joshua made it clear that they had a choice.  They could continue to live with the false promises and uncertainties of what they had become familiar with, or they could pack all these things up, leave them behind and turn back to Jehovah Jireh, the God who would provide for their every need (Genesis 22:14).  "But as for me and my household," Joshua concluded, "we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15).

My second example is Saul.  This man was a weak leader; he was chosen as the people's king because he was head and shoulders above the rest.  This was a physical advantage only.  Apart from questions about his mental stability in the ways he behaved with David, his son-in-law, his leadership was dependent in large measure on the prophet Samuel.  In a spectacular failure, he had followed his own instincts and dealt with the Amalekites in ways that were directly opposite to what God had told him through Samuel, and shortly before his death, Samuel had reported God's displeasure with Saul.  Then came a day when Saul was faced with an important battle against the Philistines.  He was terrified.  He realised that he wasn't getting any help from God and so turned to a medium so he could talk to Samuel from beyond the grave.  The only help he got from Samuel was a repeat of God's anger.  When the battle came, he was defeated and met his end (1 Samuel, ch. 28 & 31).

One of my favourite hymns was written by two Irishmen, one from Dublin, the other from Cork and both graduates of Trinity College, Dublin.  Nahum Tate and Nicholas Brady wrote many metrical versions of the psalms and one that remains familiar today is that based on Psalm 34, "Through all the Changing Scenes of Life".  You can hear it here.   The words remind us that, whatever we have to face there is a source of help - if not to avoid a situation then to deal with it - simply by turning in prayer to our loving Father.  If we turn away from Him, we reject the eternal source of love, wisdom and hope who can guide us through all of life ... and beyond.

Where do you turn in a crisis?

In Every Part

Spiders.  They're like Marmite: you either love 'em or hate 'em.  I make no excuse, I fall into the latter camp.  My cousin is pretty much of the same opinion, and recently put me on to the idea of the ultrasonic pest repellent.  It's wonderful.  You plug it into an electric socket and it emits a constant sound - beyond our hearing range - that 'encourages' the little creatures to move out.  The device comes in multiple packs, not just to sell more of them (although obviously this is also true), but so that you can spread them around your home and avoid protecting one room at the expense of others.

My regular Bible reading led me the other week to Mark 4:3-8, the parable of the soils, sometimes known as the parable of the sower.  It's followed by Jesus' explanation to his disciples just what he was getting at, how the reaction to his Good News differed from one person to another, depending on their circumstances.  One commentary I read led me to an understanding of that parable that hadn't occurred to me before.  

We usually think of those four types of soil as referring to different people; it could apply to different phases through which our life passes, perhaps as our faith develops and we become stronger to overcome other demands on our lives and attentions.  It might also apply to different areas of our lives.  We might, for example, let God guide us as regards our future, or how we behave towards our parents or children, but at the same time be totally closed to ideas of caring for His planet by recycling our waste, or for the poor or disadvantaged people on the other side of the world - or of our own town - by giving to charities that are active in those fields.

One of my weekly habits is to listen to a radio programme, 'Beverley's World of Music'.  It's presenter, Beverley Humphreys, will sometimes follow a piece of music with the comment, "I love those words ..." and she then reads the words of the song we've just heard.  Often I find - and perhaps you do, too - that I've listened to the music and enjoyed it, but haven't registered just what the words say.  The spoken repetition certainly contributes greatly to the overall appreciation of the piece.

When I read that commentary about soils and people, I immediately recalled the first line of a hymn I'd sung long ago, Horatius Bonar's "Fill thou my life, O Lord my God" ... but couldn't remember what came next, so I looked it up.  It's worth applying the 'Humphreys technique' to that hymn, as I did that morning.  It is, in effect, a prayer for an all-pervasive faith: "I ask ... for a life made up of praise in every part", "Let all my being speak of thee and of thy love, O Lord" "So shall ... all my life ... be fellowship with Thee."

Have you, like me, got lots of spiritual spiders that need to be 'encouraged away'?