Big company, little company

On my first day in my last job, I was fortunate enough to be working with a couple of people I already knew very well. So when I had trouble logging on to the network, one of the IT guys cheerfully told me, “We’ve set your password to your favourite Bible reference”. Not only did this instantly fix the problem, but it reassured me that I was in a friendly environment.

On my first day in my current job, once again I was unable to log on. I was advised to call IT, at which point I was informed I had been placed in a queue. The first available adviser was with me shortly, and although the problem was eventually fixed, it all felt rather impersonal.

As time passes, I notice more big company / small company differences, with a mixture of emotions. I like being the one person responsible for my area of work in my department. I worry about what will happen when I’m away or off sick. I struggle to know who to ask for help when I can’t embed my customised maps properly.

A big company affords the opportunity to move up more easily without moving out. Contracts, payroll and pensions are handled every day. When someone asks where you work, they can genuinely nod approvingly when you mention the name. 

A little company gives employees the chance to mix a bit more, to share ideas and issues, and get to know what is going on. The finance guy probably has a desk seconds away from the IT guy, and they are both experts on pretty much everything.

But what I am coming to realise is that it is not so much about where we work as how we work. Every company has its pros and cons, and every workplace provides opportunities to learn and to meet new people. We can be grateful for the blessings and persevere in the struggles, doing our best to shine like stars wherever we are.

Bus theory

Forgive me for a slightly more morbid musing than usual – maybe it’s because I recently finished reading The Fault in Our Stars. But I have a theory, which I have just nicknamed ‘bus theory’, which inspires the way I see the world and the way I make decisions.

The theory goes, quite simply, that you can’t bank on anything definitely happening to you, or not. You can make reasonably informed guesses and you can weigh up odds and memorise statistics, but ultimately, you can’t know for sure, because you’re not in control. You might get hit by a bus tomorrow (hence the name of the theory). The world might come to an end – and no one knows when that will be, not even Jesus (see Matthew 24:36).

There are some pretty big implications of bus theory to the way I live.

Bus theory asks that when I make decisions, I base them not on assumptions that my life will pan out in Cinderella fashion. 

Bus theory prevents me from making conventional choices just because they are statistically safer.

Bus theory leaves me free to marry Prince Charming even if the likelihood is he will die before me. (Bus theory actually means I can marry Shrek or the Hunchback of Notre Dame, because I can’t guarantee that tomorrow I won’t be in the same boat.)

Bus theory makes me feel better about not always managing to eat my five-a-day.

But bus theory also means being ready to face what comes. Worrying less about what might happen to me tomorrow, because I have no authority over that. Worrying less about the future altogether, because I know that my ultimate destiny is to be with Jesus forever.

Full steam ahead

On holiday I set myself a challenge to take pictures of various boating-related expressions. Some were easy...some not so easy. Sadly, what would have made a great example of “any port in a storm” was impossible to snap (even if I had had the presence of mind) by the fact that a) it was a storm, and b) I was trying to reach the port. May I present just a few of the results in an incomplete photographic account of life on the water...

Full steam ahead (at 2.5mph)

We gave them a wide berth

Light at the end of the tunnel

I’m a lock half-full kind of person

Like ships passing in the night (or day, as it happened)

They went swanning off

Water under the bridge

Whatever floats your boat...

Postcard from home

Greetings! 

Nearing the end of a pleasant week of normality here. Weather is wonderful – bright sunshine every day after a drizzly time away last week. Much enjoying sitting down for most of the day – it makes a nice change. And what with everyone else being on holiday, the incoming workload is (thankfully) light.

Great variety of food here too – so far this week have enjoyed Chinese takeaway, IKEA meatballs and lots of vegetables.

Yesterday I visited a WWI exhibition by the lake on my lunch break which was really interesting, and I listened to some of my favourite music in my office. I’ve also had time to catch up with a few friends.

Back to a holiday next week – still, work has to end some time!

Wish you were here!

Much love,
Off the Rails

We’re all going on a summer holiday...

In my mind, summer always shines as a glorious time of holiday and of rest from work. I look forward to the summer months as a time of refreshment and more carefree living. Of course, now I’m resigned to the working adult life, this is not true at all – but this feeling remains, as a hangover from the ingrained patterns of the education system. And although I currently have a more relaxed workload over the summer, it is no longer automatically a time of complete rest – with a fixed allowance of annual leave, it’s not even possible.

However, summer sees teacher-friends off work and our wonderful weather at its kindest (perhaps), so I do my best to retain this glorious vision of the summer holidays. Already it is late July (how did that happen?) and I’ve got itchy feet...

First stop: a working holiday – a change is as good as a rest, right? – to this beautiful place, to help out at the thinkivp bookshops at the Keswick Convention:

I hope I never quite grow out of the summer holiday dream. There’s just something magical about travelling somewhere different, rebooting your system with a break from routine and gathering more tales of life.

Pick up the phone

Sometimes it can be hard to pick up the phone and call someone. You had a fight, or you’re worried they are too busy for you, or you just can’t find the right words to say.

It’s been said (or rather, sung) that “prayer is like a telephone”, and although this offers us privileged anytime access to our heavenly father, we often find that, as with our physical telephone, we are often hesitant to pick it up and dial. (Forgive me if today’s metaphor seems a bit over-simplified – I found this helpful.)

Here are some of the excuses we frequently use, with obvious reminders of why they are absurd:

1. We had a fight (aka, I’m too sinful).
You are a sinner. God is holy. This much has always been true. But Jesus died to cover you with his perfect righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21). No fight is too big for God to forgive.

2. He’s probably busy.
Don’t get me wrong, God is busy, in the sense that he does a great deal. But, in ways that I will never quite grasp this side of eternity, he’s the best multi-tasker ever. He is never too busy to listen to his children.

3. He won’t want to listen to me.
God loves us as much as he loves Jesus (John 17:23). We are his dear children, and he is never too tired/busy/stressed/exasperated to listen to us. When we humbly approach him, he always hears what we have to say.

4. I doubt he’ll help me with this.
One of my favourite God-as-Father images in the Bible is this one from Matthew 7: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” The Bible doesn’t say God will always give us whatever we want – for starters, we’re always wanting the wrong things – but he delights to give us good gifts, and he’s working for your good.

5. I can’t find the right words.
God made you, and he knows everything about you. He already knows what you’re going to say to him, and he loves to hear you say it. But don’t panic if words fail: Paul says the Spirit of God intercedes for us when we can’t find the words (Romans 8:26), which is pretty amazing in itself.

We really have a wonderful gift in prayer – what are we waiting for?

Left behind?

“It’s hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he’s okay. It’s hard to be the one who stays.” – The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

“Carol Brown / just took a bus out of town / but I’m hoping that you’ll stick around” – Carol Brown by Flight of the Conchords

Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m happy with where I am in life (or at least apathetic about it, to look at it cynically), but it always shakes me up a little when those around me want to make big changes. For one thing, it can be sad to think the people I love are not where they want to be. I also do not particularly like change; I’m fairly happy to continue plodding on forwards, and I tend to assume others are too.

But there’s also a selfish feeling that comes into play when friends make life-altering decisions – one that’s rather uncomfortable to admit. It’s a voice that I squash to a whisper, and even then, generally only to myself. Don’t they care about me?

When another friend gets married, moves back home, or takes a job somewhere far away, my insecurities immediately make me question the value of that friendship. And it feels such an ugly thing to admit that it often remains unspoken, but the selfish core of me desperately wants to be reassured.

Deep down, I know that we all have different calls on our lives, and that other things – jobs, marriages, service, health, family – are calling them on. Even I have moved away from my original home – and not because I didn’t love the people there.

Perhaps these changes are meant to serve as a reminder to me not to get too comfortable with my life, and not to find my value solely in my relationships with those around me. My true identity is in Jesus Christ and the life he has won for me. He’s blessed me with wonderful friendships to enjoy, but it is ultimately in him that I have all I’ll ever need.

Squeaky clean

A few weeks ago, I made my first ever visit to the dental hygienist. An uncomfortable quarter of an hour in a dentist’s chair and thirty-one pounds later, I can’t honestly say I feel it was worth it.

You get scraped and flossed and polished, and sent home with squeaky clean teeth and instructions to maintain them. You must floss. You really must. And brush like this. Are you happy with the cosmetic appearance of your teeth?

But you still have to dutifully go back in six months’ time, or in a year (or four, if you’re anything like me). No matter how much you clean your teeth or how many products and methods you use, it is never enough. You can’t keep them clean to the dental hygienist’s standards.

Which is true of our lives in general too, of course. We can try to clean up our act, impose rules on our behaviour, really discipline ourselves – but we never truly win without Jesus. We certainly can’t reach God’s perfect standards on our own.

But in Jesus, God does more than scrape away the surface dirt and shine us up on the outside. He gives us a new heart and makes us clean on the inside.

“I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.” (Ezekiel 36:25-27)

God purifies us and we are made righteous once and for all, although we are still works in progress. And we daily return to him, not to have him dust off the excess of our selfish behaviour, but to remember Christ’s perfectly clean sacrifice on our behalf, and to submit to him once again.

Signs of the times

After a period of not much writing, there are a couple of thoughts in the pipeline... In the meantime, here is a more pictorial post. I’ve always been a fan of signs, and taking them apart (metaphorically). Here are a few personal favourites from the collection.

The most arrogant car park I know (Manchester)

The simply ironic (Oxford)

The poor rosebush just wanted to get to the other side... (Marple)

The bizarrely juxtaposed (my office!)

The wonderful rhyming ‘resurrection stone’ (Hale Village)

The somewhat pointless? (Bristol)

The slightly disturbing (a British canalside waterpoint, where this could actually happen)

The plain lies! (another canal, somewhere in the South of England...)

A little something for everyone... (Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley)

Please let me know of any other classics you spot!

Time out

Do you ever get that feeling that you’re running on a treadmill and someone keeps increasing the speed and the gradient and you’re panicking and you can’t figure out how to slow down and if you stop you’ll fall and life will still race on around you…? 

Just keep running: life on a treadmill
(Image from www.idonedesign.com)

Life can get rather hectic sometimes, dashing from one activity to the next without a break, until suddenly you look up and realise four months have gone by and you’ve forgotten to do the cleaning and you haven’t seen that friend you promised you would… And you can’t remember the last time you paused for some reflection, prayer or to even open a Bible. 

But it’s ok. You can sort it all out. Next week. I mean, you’ve got at least three hours on Saturday after tennis and before dinner with the Joneses to do your laundry and phone your mum and read a Psalm. No problem. Except Saturday comes and you bump into someone on the way back from tennis and end up walking to town with them because you get chatting and you think you might as well go and pick up a few bits from the supermarket because you won’t have time next week anyway and there’s no milk in the fridge. So you end up slightly late for dinner but they don’t really mind and you can call your mum on the way back and do your washing overnight and pray while you’re drifting off to sleep. And then tomorrow you can try to find a time to meet up with that friend you still haven’t seen…

The life-treadmill can make you feel like you just need to keep running, because who knows what might go wrong when you take a break. But sometimes, it’s time to push the big red button, and just stop. Cancel the tennis. Leave the party early. Having plans to rest and to pray still counts as having plans – you’re busy, so you can say no when you need to. You might be the most efficient human ever (you’re probably not), but you can’t sort everything. You can’t. So just pause, and spend some time with the one who can.

Making sense of the mess

It can often be tricky to match up our view of God with our daily lived experience. We say God is all-powerful, and we say God is kind. So why is there so much mess? Why does God, who we say loves us and is totally in control, allow painful things to happen to us?

The Bible says this: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters.” (Romans 8:28-29, NIV)

Basically, through it all, God is making us more like Jesus. Theoretically, we may well believe this. Sometimes, we can even see this working itself out – that tricky relationship with a work colleague, whilst far from ideal, certainly builds our patience. But what about when we can’t see how on earth God could be using our messed-up circumstances to change us? Can he really be working for our good “in all things”? Frankly, in the midst of frustrating and painful situations, it can be difficult to make sense of it all. 

God: no more than The Ant Bully? (Warner Bros 2006)

But if mess is just mess, then we paint God to be no more than the proverbial mean kid with a magnifying glass, frying us like ants for his own amusement. If he is in control, he must be permitting the mess. And maybe he is changing us, by asking us to persevere despite what we can see, by teaching us to trust in his timing and not our own, by making us 100% dependent. 

Sometimes the mess can stop us seeing the bigger picture, but we can only hold on to his promise – he has a perfect plan, and he’s working in it for our good.

Bad stair day

Different parts of the Bible can speak to us more clearly on some days than others. Today, one of those days when it’s hard to climb the stairs, physically and mentally, I am particularly excited about Revelation 21.

“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21 verses 3-4)

Even if you feel fine now, this is a great promise – it’s not just a healthy, happy life (although that will be a wonderful thing). It’s God, the actual creator, sustainer, redeemer God, living with his people face to face.

From the sidelines

There’s a sequence in the film Valentine’s Day where Reed, having been left by his girlfriend, discovers none of his friends thought they were a good match in the first place. Enraged, he says to his best friend, “Apparently everyone and their mother felt that way but nobody had the guts to tell me!”

Reed and his best friend Julia in Valentine’s Day
(Photo by Ron Batzdorff © MMIX New Line Productions, Inc.)

There are certain people in life I like to think of as being like soap opera viewers: they know all of the characters, but they’re not involved in the plot. These people vary depending on the situation, but they are the ones we can turn to when others are too involved to see it objectively.

Several such friends gave me the same advice about a certain situation recently, advice I was reluctant to take. It seemed easy for them to offer it, for the same reason that they were the first ones to see it – they were not involved in the plot. But when I eventually saw that they were right, I realised that other more plot-involved friends agreed with them. My reaction was similar to Reed’s: why did nobody ever tell me?

So I suppose the moral of the story is this: if you’re the soap-watcher on a friend’s life and you find yourself shouting warnings at the screen, do them a favour and gently tell them. They probably need to hear it, even if they may not be able to see it yet.

Bargain hunter

“If others don’t love me, I would rather die than live […]. [T]o gain some real affection from you, […] or any other whom I truly love, I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest.” – Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.

People sometimes say, when faced with the prospect (real or imagined) of a not-so-good situation, “I would rather die”. We know death is usually not an option, and that the proposed deal is meaningless, yet we continue to make this kind of deal, regardless of its power.

I frequently attempt this myself, especially when it comes to dealing with pain or discomfort. I struggle periodically with anxiety issues. Thankfully, the effect this has on my day-to-day life now is small, but there have been times when I have tried to make deals to get rid of it.

A common “bargain” I used to propose when the anxiety seemed too much went something like this (for context, I also battle on-and-off with runner’s knee): I would rather have pain in my knees every day for the rest of my life – but please take away the fear.

(I’ve always been a deal-maker – apparently, by the age of two, I was bargaining with my mum about bedtime, and suggesting what she would have to do to make me agree to go to bed.)

But physical pain (to me, anyway) seems much easier to handle than emotional or mental pressure. Perhaps the more tangible nature of the pain makes it easier to manage. There’s a physical problem with a physical solution – be it a hot water bottle, painkillers or physiotherapy. But a problem that you can’t point to and say “that’s where it hurts” seems much more difficult to approach.

Who was I bargaining with, anyway? God? I’m pretty sure that’s not the way he works – he wouldn’t need to make a deal with us, to exchange one kind of pain for another. In fact, he’s made a deal to exchange all that’s bad for all that’s perfect. He’s already offered the ultimate exchange in Jesus – the only one we’ll ever truly need.

Let go

I can be quite an anxious person, a quiet in-the-corner worrier trying to see the bright side. I have lost count of the number of times this verse has been given to me (thanks, if one of those times it was you): “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

 

You might think that’s easy to say – but I find this verse very reassuring, because this isn’t twee advice, this is God. This is God telling us through Paul that we do not actually need to be anxious. At all. Things trouble us, but we don’t need to drown in them.

 

We had a helpful discussion in our Bible study group last week, based on this verse, about letting go of anxieties and burdens. Somebody famous apparently once said, in response to a concern about constant prayer seeming to make no difference, ‘Stop praying’. Not because we shouldn’t take the things that trouble us to our heavenly father – of course we should – but sometimes we can think we are letting go in prayer and all we are doing is reminding ourselves of the problem and going over and over it in our minds. We can get stuck in a loop of telling God all about this situation we’ve been in for months and analysing how and why it is the way it is – but without actually giving it over to him. One member compared it to the classic “Don’t think of an orange”. (Are you now thinking of an orange?)

 

Don’t think of an orange. Especially not this one.

 

Prayer isn’t magic – we won’t necessarily feel any different, and the problem itself may not disappear. But if we believe God is capable, kind, loving and fair, then part of praying about these things should be letting go of them. We are dependent on God, and that’s the point. 

A leap of faith

Before Christmas, a friend challenged me to do something I “wouldn’t usually do”. So this week, I agreed to go climbing (this is where we went). It was much chalkier than I expected, but the crash mats at the foot of the walls were reassuringly bouncy.



The Depot: Nottingham

 
From the off, I banned the word fail (it’s not too confidence-building), and we opted instead for “deferred success”. A very appropriate term for an activity like this, where quite frequently at first you don’t succeed. But you try, and try again.
 
The moment of deferred success that has most stuck with me was my second attempt at a particular course I hadn’t managed first time around. There was a point where I knew in theory what had to come next, but just didn’t believe I could do it. I was about ready to give up, when I heard the words “I have faith in you”.
 
What was intended as an encouragement served instead as both a guilt-trip and a challenge for my pride. Still not brimful of confidence, I just had to take a leap of faith – and it worked. I reached the top and felt I had indeed done something I wouldn’t normally have done.
 
How often is this true of all us, in all sorts of things! To get any further up the metaphorical (or in this case, physical) wall, we sometimes have to let go and remove our feet from their safety ledge. We won’t necessarily succeed the first time, and we might not even enjoy the process. But true deferred success and a sense of retrospective fun can make it all worth it.

New year, new start?

 

 
Happy New Year! New year, new start, new me... The year has just changed, which means we’re all now new people, much more capable of doing good things than we were last week. Or something.
 
The trouble is, as we discover every year, resolutions are like rules: made to be broken.
 
It’s not that setting ourselves goals of healthier lifestyles, tidier houses, better friendships, more organised work lives, or whatever it might be, is not a good thing to be doing. It’s just that we are human, and we make mistakes. By creating a list of ideals at the start of each new calendar year, we seem to be setting ourselves up to fail. With all the sincerity and effort in the world, we’re not going to be perfect people in 2014.
 
If we could fix ourselves by trying harder, there’d be no need for God to send Jesus to rescue us. (We celebrated that just last week, remember?)
 
But that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to ignore our shortcomings and simply live our lives ever more selfishly. Instead, this year, I’m humbly advocating identifying “themes” to work on – areas of life where there is room for meaningful improvement that we can talk to God about, and work out together how to glorify him in them.
 
It being a new year becomes irrelevant – it’s never a bad time to work on being holy. What is more, whenever we fall down, we can rely on God’s grace to help us back up.