Into the valley (He carries me)

So I was thinking some days ago about songs of lament and hope and thought I'd try my hand at writing one. A friend has kindly agreed to see if he can write a tune for it, either for solo or congregational use. I'm not sure it actually merits too much of his time (it still feels somewhat unfinished) but fwiw this is it (the italicised verse can either be sung as a chorus after each verse, after verses 2 and 3 or only after verse 3, no decision yet)

Into the valley (He carries me)

Into the valley of pain I go
And yes I am afraid;
The shadows are deep, the sky is dark
My hopes all seem betrayed.
Into the valley of pain I go
But I am not alone.

Into the valley of shame I go
And yes I am undone;
My sins all crimson, my guilt aflame,
The slanderer has won.
Into the valley of shame I go
But I am not alone

Into the valley of fear I go
And yes I tremble hard;
The struggle was long, the fighting fierce,
My soul is battle-scarred.
Into the valley of fear I go
But I am not alone

For

He walks with me, he talks with me,
He shelters me from harm,
He draws the sting of guilt and shame,
Of pain and all alarm,
And carries me, yes carries me
And tells me all his name.

(Alternative last line(s): And in his name is calm/And all his name is calm)

ps. Please also see this post for these words set to music.

Sympathy for the fallen

Commenting on Peter and John being together on Easter day, HCG Moule writes,

Many a 'saint' of later day would, I fear, have thrust Peter away from all fellowship with himself. But not so John. At once, before the Resurrection, before the hope of it, while there was yet no joy in his own heart, John has joined himself to Peter...
If for us, in our day, the sense of our Redeemer's love, our rest upon the bosom of His forgiving friendship, does anything, it will make us condemn and renounce the spiritual self-righteousness which shuts up sympathy. It will make us feel how wonderfully welcome to the Lord is 'whosoever cometh', even if he comes fresh from some grievous fall, some denial of the Blessed name. It will make us so far like Him who loved us, that while we shall see and feel sin, as sin, more and more keenly and painfully (and not least, the sin of not loving the Lord Christ, and submitting the whole being to him), we shall more and yet more truly love, and seek to help, others for whom our aid may avail, however strange the case, however great the fall.

Jesus and the Resurrection, p.18f, Seeley & Co, 1898

Taken

by surprise
at life returning

before
I'd even noticed
that it was ever
close;
and life has returned

before,
and I, then, scarcely
and barely
aware of

the signs -
the embryonic blossom,
the chromatic scaling;
too small to see,
too true to deny,
too alive to fade

or fail.

Assimilation

I’ve long been impressed by Maria Popova’s ability to read and digest huge amounts of literature and to then write about it in such a seemingly coherent and embedded way.

If I ever had the chance to talk to her, I’d ask Maria two things: how on earth do you manage to read all this stuff? And, more importantly, how do you manage to assimilate the seemingly endless insights into your own life and thinking? How do you translate copious learning into compelling living?

Because that’s where I find the challenge lands for me. Not just the ‘how can I learn to read more?’ (although that always has large appeal) but ‘how can I assimilate more?’ - more of the wisdom, the considered and reflective take on the world, on church and ministry, on the Bible and on God himself.

So I find myself wondering, Is the problem the biblically-noted one of the endless making of many books? Is there deep wisdom in having a more limited library, thoughtfully curated, that is consulted repeatedly and known intimately? A library that can be added to (and subtracted from) but only slowly and with deliberate intent. Has such a pattern already been set for us in that the Bible itself is a limited collection, albeit one that has reached a fixed state?

Where would one start, though, after all this time? Can a start be made? Perhaps by singling-out the books already read that seemed most helpful at the time. By making such a selection with proper breadth and depth in mind, with chosen works being in some senses representative of others too. Perhaps.

Maybe at the start you really do need to read as much and as widely as possible, to get a feel for where things stand, to enable a wise choice of more consistent, longer-term conversation partners. And perhaps that has to continue in some way so that breadth isn’t lost and development doesn’t cease. Which almost takes us back to where we started. It’s been said that serendipity is a gracious intervention and I don’t doubt that to be true.

And perhaps the very bottom line, the clarifying centre, is that real assimilation, true learning and growing through learning, can not happen, will not happen, without turning insight and reflection into prayer, in the light of scripture and in the presence of God, harnessed for loving God and neighbour.

Stephen Westerholm on Christians fulfilling the law

...there is no question (could there ever be) that Christians are obligated to serve God. Nor is there (for Paul) any question that believers, as dwellers in God's world, are subject to precisely the same universal obligations of truth, goodness, and love that are spelled out in the moral demands of the Mosaic law. Indeed, when they live as they ought and as they are enabled by the divine spirit that indwells them, their conduct will prove unexceptionable by the standards of the law. They will, in effect, have "fulfilled" the law. Paul's point is rather that believers do not encounter these obligations as law.

"Law," in this Pauline usage, stands not simply for the concrete commands and prohibitions found in Torah, but also for the mode in which these obligations encounter rebellious humanity "in the flesh": as commands that are externally imposed (their inscription on tablets of stone is in marked contrast with demands recognised and endorsed within human hearts) upon a will bent on its self-assertion. The Mosaic law in all of its parts - moral as well as ritual commandments, sanctions as well as demands - was intended for a a favoured people who are nonetheless representative of humanity "in the flesh". Among them it could only exacerbate - while it defined and condemned - humanity's rebellion. For a humanity being prepared for restoration to its intended place in God's creation, for a humanity (as Paul puts it) that has yet to "come of age," God provided a fitting and graphic reminder in his covenant with Israel that he is good, that human beings have been made to enjoy fellowship with him, and that that fellowship requires their own submission to the good. Inevitably, the latter requirement could only encounter Adamic humanity as law.

But law (in this sense) is a matter of the past for a humanity that has "come of age." Its ceremonial aspects were never intended for any but Jews. But even its moral demands now have a different character. To be sure, murder, adultery, and theft are as wrong for Christians as they ever were for Israel "under the law." Moreover, so long as Christians are subject to the weakness and temptations of life in a sin-scarred world, they will need guidance (or, at the least, reminders) about which kinds of behaviour are appropriate and which kinds are inappropriate and wrong for them to show as the redeemed people of God. We may go further. There is, in Paul's understanding, a continuing place for figures of authority in the church to provide such guidance and, if necessary, to insist upon its obligatory nature. Paul himself does not hesitate to advise, to remind, to command. But even when he commands, he insists that he is merely spelling out what is implicit in his Christian readers' own faith and experience of God. Appropriate behaviour for believers is, for Paul, the natural expression of their trust in God and their experience of his indwelling spirit. They have "crucified the flesh;" no longer, then, can God's will confront them as an arbitrary, vexing and provocative law.

Stephen Westerholm, Preface to the study of Paul, Eerdmans 1997, p.92f

Illustrations

Illustrations - all good sermons need them (apparently). All good preachers acquire them, store them, retrieve and deploy them. Stories, analogies, examples. Things to illustrate - illuminate - a point. But what makes for the best illustrations?

The answer, it seems to me, are not ones that are sought-out to buttress a point but those that have led to the point being realised in the first place - observations from life that highlight something that is bigger than just the specific instance.

Seth Godin is brilliant at this - his article on smooth water and the lesson he draws/applies from cavitation is a prime example (illustration, if you like) of just that. He has seen something, learnt something, about a topic (cavitation) that enables him to then see something else more clearly, on an enitrely different topic.

Those kinds of illustrations don't only help to illuminate something that is already known, they've likely been part of that learning in the first place. Knowing what (and why) engineers do regarding cavitation leads to keener perception of comparable issues in the realm of organisations and their dynamics.

When our eyes are open and our minds alert to the world around us and within us, those insights occur. And when that happens, everyone is a learner.

And I will give you rest

35 years ago today, a guy called Steve asked if he could sit down and talk to me about Jesus. And Jesus? He said, Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest.

I was 19, nearly 20, and had been struggling for nearly 2 years with what I would later discover was a mental illness called OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (I'm self-diagnosing here but I think it's a pretty secure diagnosis). I had only told one person the smallest amount (Garry Fenley, God bless you, God bless you for your unflinching friendship and love - you can never know how much it meant to me) and it felt like it was killing me.

The closing months of 1982 and then into 1983 were the darkest of times. A longing to escape, somehow, whatever that might mean or take. Hiding as much as I could of the devastating impact of a broken and lost soul. No hope; only chasms of despair and loss.

The OCD wasn't the real issue, though, strange as that sounds. It was how my deepest fears and insecurities found expression and exercised control - fears about death and the power of evil and layer upon layer of guilt and shame. And the longing to be known and to belong and to be embraced at the deepest level of being.

I thought I'd reached a place of peace for a couple of months (the power of a first girlfriend is quite something) but nothing had changed, not really and not at all. And I was just beginning to sense that. If the edge of the cliff had come close before, this time would be closer still.

And Jesus said, Come to me and I will give you rest. Rest from all my fears and rescue from the choking despair.

What did Steve say? In all honesty I don't remember but everything changed that day. Jesus who died to overcome death. Jesus who experienced all the horrors of evil powers and faced them down. Jesus who shouldered my shame. Jesus who reached out in love and mercy and embrace. Jesus who sets prisoners free.

I've loved the stories in the gospels of Jesus meeting people and making them new. The man possessed by a legion of demons in Mark 5 who cannot even ask for help - Jesus sees him, delivers him and he re-enters society as a man who can tell how much the Lord has done for him. The leper in Mark 1 - he knows Jesus can help but he doesn't know if Jesus would want to. And why would he want to help a man buried so deep in shame and exclusion? But he said, I am willing; be clean.

I so wish I could tell this better, because the love of Jesus is deeper and more glorious than these few words could tell. But here's an old hymn that describes a little of what I discovered those years ago; maybe it will be part of your story too?

Out of my bondage, sorrow, and night,
Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into Thy freedom, gladness, and light,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of my sickness into Thy health,
Out of my want and into Thy wealth,
Out of my sin and into Thyself,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of my shameful failure and loss,
Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into the glorious gain of Thy cross,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of earth’s sorrows into Thy balm,
Out of life’s storm and into Thy calm,
Out of distress to jubilant psalm,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of unrest and arrogant pride,
Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into Thy blessed will to abide,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,
Out of despair into raptures above,
Upward for aye on wings like a dove,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of the fear and dread of the tomb,
Jesus, I come; Jesus, I come;
Into the joy and light of Thy home,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of the depths of ruin untold,
Into the peace of Thy sheltering fold,
Ever Thy glorious face to behold,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Ministry is about mysteries, not puzzles

In his book, Simpy Brilliant, William C Taylor engages the work of Gregory Treverton on how national security services tackle their work. During the Cold War, analysts were trying to solve puzzles (such as, how many missiles do our enemies have?); today, they are faced with mysteries (about why people and states do what they do and about what they will do in the future).

Taylor notes Treverton's point that while "Puzzles can be solved with better information and sharper calculations, mysteries...can only be framed, not solved." He passes on the observation that "treating mysteries as puzzles can be dangerous and delusional - creating a false sense of confidence that crunching more information will clarify situations that can be understood only with more imagination." (p.29)

In ministry, it is tempting to treat the people we meet and the situations we face, both locally and more widely within the culture, as puzzles to be solved. But they aren't. They're mysteries. It isn't more information we need in order to minister helpfully; it's a biblically-informed imagination that foregrounds and relies upon the wisdom of God revealed in the gospel of his Son.

And such an imagination is not formed overnight; it is forged through deep, ongoing, suffering and utterly prayerful immersion in the Bible's story and the ways and wisdom of God disclosed in that narrative.

No wonder Paul asked, And who is equal to such a task? (2 Cor 2:16)

The focus of your life

Pertinent question asked by Oliver Burkeman in the latest issue of New Philosopher:

What will your life have been, in the end, but the sum total of everything you spent it focusing on?

Feeling shame in the presence of God and in light of the cross

Commenting on Ezekiel 36, Chris Wright says,

Spiritually and psychologically there is profound insight in this chapter into the proper place of shame in the life of the believer. Israel was not to feel ashamed in the presence of the other nations (15), but they were to feel ashamed in the presence of their own memories before God (31-32). Similarly, there is a proper sense in which believers who have been forgiven by God for all their sins and offences may rightly hold up their heads in company.

We may have no control over what other people think of us, but that need not destroy the proper sense of dignity and self-respect that comes from knowing the affirmation of God himself. In the Gospels Jesus seems deliberately to have given public affirmation to those who experienced his forgiving and reinstating grace. The strong desire that Yahweh would protect the humble and sin-conscious worshipper from public shame and disgrace is often to be found in the Psalms. A favourite of my own for many years has been Psalm 25:

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul;
in you I trust, O my God.
Do not let me be put to shame
nor let my enemies triumph over me.
No-one whose hope is in you
will ever be put to shame...
Remember not the sins of my youth
and my rebellious ways...
For the sake of your name, O Lord,
forgive my iniquity, though it is great. (vv.1-3,7,11)

And what relief it is to hear  the word of God coming, as it did to Israel in exile, to address that fear with the words of assurance:

Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. (Isaiah 54:4)

With such a promise, and on the basis of the cleansing and restoring work of Christ, the believer can face the world, certainly not with pride, but equally certainly without shame.

But on the other hand, the same person, alone with God and the memories of the past, can quite properly feel the most acute inner shame and disgrace. It is not, however, a destructive or crushing emotion. Rather, it is the core fuel for genuine repentance and humility and for the joy and peace that flow from that source alone. When I remember my sins I know that God does not. From his side they are buried in the depths of the sea, covered by the atoning blood of Jesus Christ, never again to be raised to the surface and held against me. And it is only in the awareness of that liberating truth that I can (or even ought) to remember them. For this is not the memory that generates fresh accusation and guilt - that is the work of Satan the accuser. Satan's stinging jolts of memory need to be taken straight to the cross and to our ascended High Priest, for,

When Satan tempts me to despair,
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see him there
Who made an end of all my sin. (Charities Lees Bancroft)

No, this is the memory that generates gratitude out of disgrace, celebration out of shame. It is the memory which marvels at the length and breadth and depth of God's rescuing love that has brought me from what I once was, or might easily have become, to where I am now, as a child of his grace.

In a cold mirror of a glass, I see my reflection pass;
See the dark shades of what I used to be;
See the purple of her eyes, The scarlet of my lies.
I said, Love rescue me. (U2, Love rescue me)

Chris Wright, The Message of Ezekiel, pp.301f

God is there

God is there. There are times when our doctrinal conviction of God's omnipresence needs to become an experienced reality again. Whether through geographical distance, like Ezekiel's, or through more spiritual or emotional alienation, the experience of exile from the presence of God can be dark and terrible. We may not be privileged with an overwhelming vision like Ezekiel's, and most of us will be grateful to be excused the privilege, but we can certainly pray for the reassurance of the touch of his hand reminding us that God is there, even there.

Chris Wright, The Message of Ezekiel, p.45

On application in preaching

In their helpful book, How to read Job, John Walton and Tremper Longman III make the following comments about application in preaching that are worth considering:

It is important to draw a distinction between remedial application and constructive application. Remedial application is the form that application often takes in our churches today. Using this approach we come to recognise something we are doing wrong. This sort of application urges us to stop doing what we shouldn't be doing or to begin doing what we should be doing. In other words, after preaching on an Old Testament text, the preacher might urge the congregation to "go, thou, and do likewise!" or "go, thou, and don't do likewise!" Such application is sometimes referred to as the takeaway, and it often operates by instructing the hearers in steps that can be taken this week to begin to rectify the situation. The instruction may provide specific action points intended to correct harmful behaviours, adjust habits or restore relationships. Remedial application can be important and cannot be neglected, but it is only the beginning. We have to be engaged in doing more than correcting wrong behaviour or thinking. That is where constructive application comes in.

Constructive application involves more than doing what is right; it puts us on a path of thinking what is right. It involves how we think about ourselves, about the world around us and, most importantly, about God. More than action points that can be undertaken this week, these thinking points provide the basis for a lifetime of inner resources that will help us respond well to situations that we may face tomorrow, next month or 20 years down the road.

Remedial application confronts our failures and inadequacies. Constructive application fills our reservoirs of understanding so we have something to draw on throughout life. Remedial application is like paying the outstanding bills in a financial crisis. Constructive application is like contributing to a savings account so financial crisis in the future can be avoided. The former perpetuates living hand to mouth; the latter builds financial security. Ideally, our spiritual lives should grow toward maturity by being securely anchored, fed by the deep reservoir of knowledge of God that his Word supplies. We do not want to be people who only survive hand to mouth spiritually.

John H Walton & Tremper Longman III, How to read Job, pp.179f.

Why it's ok to not miss preaching

In my post of random thoughts on the experience of a sabbatical, I mentioned that I hadn't missed preaching and wasn't too sure what to make of that. My guess is that some people - maybe not fellow ministers - may have been ever so slightly shocked at such a comment. Does this man not feel called, after all? Is he burnt-out, needing a longer sabbatical? Is it time for him to be put out to graze?

Well, maybe it is! Or maybe we need to think a little bit harder about the preaching task and the pastoral role. Misunderstanding its nature and purpose can be problematic.

Essentially, preaching is not just about understanding the text well enough so that it can be explained to others in a helpful and, on occasions, memorable way. It isn't even explanation and application in a generic sense that allows anyone, anywhere, to benefit just as easily from it.

Rather, it is asking what do these people and this church, at this moment in this society, need to know and feel and do, and all within the swirling vortex of the world, the flesh and the devil. And the answers to those questions have to come from a holistic grasp of the fullness of biblical revelation, in it's relentlessly gospel-shaped and Christ-focused momentum. Quick and easy answers will almost inevitably be shallow and simply won't do.

It is, therefore, truly hard work. To be consistently creative is deeply demanding - creative not in the sense of being original but having the necessary prophetic edge and insight, together with a deeply-felt pastoral awareness and empathy, that all worthwhile preaching bears.

Preaching has been compared to cooking for the family - sometimes the meals are plain but nourishing, at other times they're a bit more special. The reality, though, is more complex: some family members have been malnourished and can only begin to eat slowly; others are sick and cannot take some foods; others need big hearty meals and still others are fussy eaters. Some have never eaten as part of a family. Others don't even think they're hungry. Try cooking one meal for that family and you'll begin to see and feel something of the complexity  - the fraught complexity - of the preaching task.

Some have a hobby they love; they enjoy it and are good at it. It is stimulating and satisfying. Occasionally, it's possible for that hobby to become a source of additional income or even to become a full-time occupation. When that happens, they feel like they've landed on their feet - doing what they utterly love and being paid for it! Preaching is not a well-loved hobby that some even get paid for. It is nothing like that, not even close. Preaching is not the theology-lover's hobby-as-employment. If you're a preacher who feels that it is, well maybe you need to step back and really think about it.

But what about the sheer romance of preaching - isn't that enough to engage heart and soul in the task? Well, there are preachers whose description of the work has that kind of aura to it, but, honestly? Let's be super-clear: the preacher isn't the Lone Ranger, riding to the rescue; he's far more like a battlefield medic - and there is nothing romantic, not ever, about severed limbs and gaping holes where a stomach used to be, or the sight of entrails, the howls of unrelenting agony and the foul stench that will haunt the endless nightmares. You think that all sounds romantic? Neither is the call to preach.

But, but, but...isn't it also glorious? Yes it is, it really is. Ministry is radiant with glory - the glory that streams from the cross of Jesus.

It's no wonder that, sometimes, some of us who are called to that task are quite glad to lay it aside for a time. And even to not miss it.

Some things I learned from my sabbatical

Some pretty random, unrefined reflections on my recent sabbatical. Not in any particular order.

1. Don't leave it 22 years for your first sabbatical. If it isn't written into your terms of employment (or whatever you might have) then be bold and ask your elders/church to make it so. This won't just benefit you and any others on the ministry team now but also those who will, in time, follow you in ministry there.

2. How often should a sabbatical come around and how long should it last? Who knows what's best on this one? For myself, I think every 7 years a 3 month sabbatical is about right, but people and places and needs vary so flexibility is probably key.

3. Don't expect people not in ministry to properly understand your need for a sabbatical. Be prepared for others to think this is a luxury they aren't ever given - and one they're paying for in your case. Don't let that stop you taking one and enjoying it.

4. You will probably feel under some pressure (probably self-generated) to return with 'all guns blazing'. Resist that pressure with all you have. If you learn anything on your sabbatical then learn that the progress and health of God's kingdom lies with him and not with your 'much doing'.

5. Days off and annual leave - If I'd been wiser at taking all my annual leave and more disciplined in taking regular days off then I'd probably have been less in need of a sabbatical as a means of resting and more able to use the time for deeper reflection.

6. Learning to stop when the working day is done, unless there is work to do that evening, is something I need to do better at. Working from home makes the transition somewhat fluid and less than obvious. Maybe a short walk, say 15 minutes, at the end of the working day would be a useful demarkation point? A particular struggle is reading work-related books and articles in the evening - I find it relaxing but it's also (subliminally) work.

7. During my sabbatical I worshipped elsewhere and mostly avoided contact with folks from church. But relationships can't just be put on hold - not to be engaged is to be disengaged. Which means returning to ministry is re-engaging and that can feel demanding.

8. Disengaging can make it feel like an ending, not a hiatus. I'm not surprised that, for many, a sabbatical is fairly swiftly followed by a change of ministry. I'm sure that's even more prominent when sabbaticals are not regularly taken.

9. What I missed most, really missed, was being part of a church family. I'm very glad to say.

10. What I missed least was the Sunday night/Monday morning blues - the awful feeling of yet another failure to preach as helpfully as I would wish to. Yes, I know what the cures for that are; I'm just sayin'.

11. The church has survived. Life has gone on. I'm not indispensable (I hope I've never thought I was, but it's been helpfully underlined).

12. Which maybe means that the key relationships in a church are not between the pastor and the members but between the members themselves. This might be more true where the membership is more settled and less transitory.

13. It was the first time in 25 years that I wasn't regularly preparing sermons. I didn't miss either the preparation or the act of preaching. Make of that what you will. I'm not sure what to think of it.

14. Sabbaticals can be an odd time for a pastor's wife and children. Everything goes on as normal and yet nothing is normal. Spare a thought for them.

15. I'm fundamentally a child of God, not a pastor. Much can and might change in life and in ministry but this truth will always remain. Rejoice in it, in him, and not in whatever your service might be or look like.

Learning to read more

You'd think every pastor has a natural inclination towards reading and a natural aptitude for it. If that's the stereotype then I fit the first half but have always struggled with the latter. Endless are the books I've bought - just ask my wife - and endless are the part-read books on my shelves (and you can now add ebooks into that mix). I've always found it easier to read smaller pieces - articles and such like - but books have always been far harder, certainly non-fiction works that demand sustained concentration. (Publishers, please note: books don't all need to be long)

About two years ago I decided that I needed to do better. Part-digested food doesn't really help a person to be healthy and part-finished books are likewise limited. I decided to set myself a daily goal and see if I could work towards it (I'm pretty sure I read something by John Piper that suggested doing so).

At first I thought a target of ten pages would be sustainable but, happily, that was soon revised upwards - probably because most chapters seemed to be longer than ten pages. Somehow I settled on 30 pages, Monday to Friday. That would mean 150 pages a week which would usually add-up to a book a fortnight or even quicker. It seemed a suitable challenging target without being too daunting and unrealistic.

I set 30 pages as a recurring weekday task in Todoist, my productivity app of choice. That would at least keep it before me as a goal, set one level of priority lower than my daily Bible reading (that is marked highest priority). I had also joined Goodreads, a website and app that allows you, among other things, to track your reading and serves as a database of all the books you've read; you can also follow others and share book reviews and so on.

With those parameters in place, I set off. And it has mostly - wonderfully - worked. A simple system has encouraged me to sustain reading through books and to finish far more than I ever did before. Other than books I'm reading as part of sermon preparation, I try to limit myself to reading through one book at a time. That doesn't work for some people; it does for me. I get less distracted and, if it's a book I'm finding less helpful, I shouldn't be too long in being able to move onto something that will hopefully be more useful.

I've read some very long books and a lot of relatively shorter ones (I don't choose them on that basis - book selection is another topic entirely). Some books I've read through very quickly, mostly novels for relaxation but sometimes more weighty works - Sinclair Ferguson's The Whole Christ was read in less than a day.

Apart from the satisfaction of finishing books, and hopefully with the attendant benefits of working things through, I think I've got better at focussing on what I'm reading; I'm also probably able to read faster, not that that was a particular goal.

Goodreads allows you to set an annual target of books read - I decided not to set one but made a mental note of looking to read 40 books in a year. That seemed pretty ambitious but, being only a soft target, wasn't something I was particularly focussed on. I think I read 50 books that year and then 60 the following year. Colour me astonished.

But something I need to remind myself of frequently: it's not how much I read that matters most, it's how much thinking that reading leads me to do. Colour me unfinished.

Finding the lion bigger as you grow

"Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan," sobbed Lucy. "At last."
The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all around her. She gazed up into his large wise face.
"Welcome, child," he said.
"Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."
"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.
"Not because you are?"
"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."

(Prince Caspian, CS Lewis, p.124, my emphasis)

the man who knows how to wait

"Maybe the best definition of the leader is the man who knows how to wait. During the waiting he learns to lead by prayer. He deepens his love for people and his hold on the throne of grace. He becomes the man in touch with God and the man who understands people."

Jack Miller, The Heart of a Servant Leader, p.209

How parables work (RT France)

Parables...attract attention by their pictorial or paradoxical language, and at the same time their indirect approach serves to tease and provoke the hearer. It would be possible to hear a parable as no more than an interesting story or a striking bon mot, and entirely to miss the point. Parables offer images and riddles which we must work out for ourselves if we are to understand and respond. Parabolic teaching is not given on a plate. It demands perception and careful thought, and it challenges to appropriate action.

RT France, Divine Government, SPCK, p.30

How Jesus pursued his mission

"He did not set out to aggressively recruit followers by overwhelming power or manipulation; rather, he humbly acknowledged that God's prevenient elective, predestinatory choice (his 'drawing' or 'giving' people to Jesus) was required for his ministry to be successful (or, better, effective)."

Andreas Kostenberger, A Theology of John's Gospel and Letters, p.247

Renouncing privilege and power for mere persuasion

Acts 28:30,31 is

"a marvellous conclusion to the earliest recorded history of the church. Whether intended or not, Luke strikes the twin themes of the church's story throughout the best moments of its history: the willing renunciation of earthly privilege and power (Paul is at the mercy of the Roman court) combined with a happy reliance on mere persuasion to advance Christ's cause. The modern church, especially in the West, would do well to remember this winning combination. Christ does not require political, legal, or military power to achieve his purposes. He simply asks for a people willing to suffer and persuade (in the power of the Spirit)."

John Dickson, A Doubter's Guide to the Bible, p.180