Thankyou ...

...to all that have contributed.
Maybe we could have done more, but as I said - it was as much or as little, and maybe we ahve all been reflecting far more this lent, I have been struggling for inspiration here.
Maybe ... next year!

Thanks.

He is Risen

Easter is here!
Jesus is risen.

Feelings

Where am I?

Wait, is this the Lent blog?

Quick, think of something profound!

Ok, erm... People in glass houses call kettles black.

---

Now we've got that over with, on with the entry!

Basically I haven't really felt like blogging lately - well, except for random run-of-the-mill stuff, which I decided to give up for Lent, so you won't be able to read, say, what I had for dinner yesterday. I was sort of hoping that blog entries here would inspire me to write but I think perhaps we were all hoping that and so haven't posted very much :)

One of the greatest frustrations of my Christian life is not feeling particularly holy. Perhaps that sounds silly. After all, what does it matter if I feel holy? Aren't I supposed to be holy? Or more accurately, being in Christ who is holy, shouldn't it not matter how I happen to feel?

I agree, but feelings are irrational, and generally if I'm not in a particularly godly mood then I confess I often find it easier to just pretend that I am. The thing is, pretending to be godly is even more ungodly than not being godly.

Are there any solutions to this? I sometimes feel as if the Church, particularly more Charismatic members of which, teach that if you feel stuck, frustrated, burnt out, fed up, or generally annoyed then you're backsliding or apart from God - but I'm not so sure this is the case. Sometimes there are genuine questions and problems that must be addressed and surely God is about more than just positive feelings and glowing smiles.

I think I ought to perhaps tie up the entry with something profound but I'm all out of profundities. Though if anyone has any wisdom to pass on or the desire to empathise please feel free :) And in case I forget, happy Easter :)

Pondering, Are We?

Lent abstinence:
Setting aside all
Distractions?

I've just finished the book on Haiku that I started earlier this month, hence the poetic form above (and, incidentally, why I didn't bother counting the syllables for this one!). However, it does seem a little bit quiet here! I presume that each of us taking part is a blogger - perhaps we could have our names on the right link to our blogs, which may spark some more discussion, musing and pondering here (ps. it's Wulf, not Wolf!).

Reflection

A great reflection here from Sacred Space.

The Blessing

May you who are restless

Find rest

And in rest, restoration

And the healing

Of your hollow soul

May peace be yours

-

May you who are frozen

Find freedom

And in freedom the faith

To face the fire

And the thawing

Of your ice-gripped heart

May peace be yours

-

May you who are conflicted

Find convergence

And in convergence

Confidence

To be the one new child

Of your old divided self

May peace be yours

-

May you who live in tension

Find tenderness

And in tenderness the tendency

To kindness

And the creativity

Of a caring character

May peace be yours

-

And you who are Godless

May you find God

And in God,

The grace and growth you need

For fruit and fullness

And the love that will last you

Through the long-haul

Of a lived-for-others life

May peace be yours

by Gerard Kelly, posted at

spoken worship - a great blog.

Where we are

Can I be picky? I don't think I'd quite use the same words as Rob, when he wrote "Could Lent be a time which God uses to show us 'where we are at the time'?" (see Lent Accentuates). It could be but then so could any other time.

However, it's good to set aside some time once in a while for self examination and the season of Lent provides an excellent opportunity for that, particularly if you have the privilege of belonging to a community where others are choosing to do the same thing.

The picture that comes to mind is a speed camera. They can be a good reminder to check our speed but, if we're conscientious, safe drivers we shouldn't only stick to the limit when we think there's a danger of being caught. Likewise, trying to walk wisely through the Christian life, Lent serves as a reminder to make a humble and realistic assessment of where we are but we should keep that in mind at all times.

(ps. liked the poem!)

Lent accentuates

Graham makes a very interesting point

Lent doesn't make much difference to the ups and downs of spiritual life - it just perhaps accentuates where you are at the time.

It's a very simple point, but I think has quite a deep significance and maybe, actually, that is one of the points, maybe it is eve 'the' point?

Could Lent be a time which God uses to show us 'where we are at the time'?

In today's fast moving world it is esy to fool ourselves into thinking we are somewhere we are not, healthy when we are ill, flying when we are struggling. Maybe Lent is the time for personal truth and honesty?

Thanks Graham - comments anyone else?

Door Keepers

I've always loved, and been challenged, by this so I thought I would share it for Lent. I find it useful to think about why and what - and this poem helps me in that:

I Stand at the Door

By Sam Shoemaker (from the Oxford Group)


I stand by the door.
I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.
The door is the most important door in the world -
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There is no use my going way inside and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where the door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it.
So I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door - the door to God.
The most important thing that any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands
And put it on the latch - the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man's own touch.

Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live on the other side of it - live because they have not found it.

Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him.
So I stand by the door.

Go in great saints; go all the way in -
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics.
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in.
Sometimes venture in a little farther,
But my place seems closer to the opening.
So I stand by the door.

There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia
And want to get out. 'Let me out!' they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled.
For the old life, they have seen too much:
One taste of God and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving - preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door
But would like to run away. So for them too,
I stand by the door.

I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door.
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply and stay in too long
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there too.

Where? Outside the door -
Thousands of them. Millions of them.
But - more important for me -
One of them, two of them, ten of them.
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.

'I had rather be a door-keeper
So I stand by the door.