Can't control the weather

Not long ago I had a mini epiphany (a little early, I know). I was out doing those final Christmas errands that unfortunately could not be accomplished from the safety and comfort of my own sofa. I was battling the winds and the rain, hauling parcels and awkwardly-shaped presents…

You know the feeling – too much to carry to hold up an umbrella, too windy for the umbrella to stay up anyway, face going numb from the cold, shops annoyingly spaced out so you have to do lots of walking in between them. All you want is to be back home, free from the bags, drying off, blanket up to your ears. 

I felt angry. Angry at the post office, at the supermarket, at the weather, angry at pretty much everything. I tried to pray about it – and let God know how frustrated I felt. And I realised there has only been one man who could control the weather. I’m not supposed to be able to.

We humans like to think we are in control of most things. For the most part, we can decide what things will happen, and when. We can shop online, watch TV on demand, fill our diaries with friends and plans. We prefer to be in the driving seat, and when things are outside of our control, we don’t like it much. When decisions are taken out of our hands, we cannot seem to stop worrying about them until they are resolved. Even trains delayed by ten minutes can cause us great angst.

There are some things we will never be able to control. We can’t control the weather. Which is why when Jesus calms a raging storm at sea by simply saying “be still”, we don’t need to be a first-century fisherman to understand the implications of this. He alone can actually control the weather. And he alone can control everything. Even the things we think we are in charge of, he has the final say over, because he made it all. 

This knowledge may not make the unpleasant things instantly easier, but it reminds us there is one who works in all things, whether or not we can comprehend it. And it reminds me that I should take my responses to these things to the one whose control is no illusion.

I built a house, and in it I put no goats, a piano and a hot tub

I’ve been doing some thinking about community. What does it look like to live in community with others? How can we demonstrate the all-in, sharing, giving, rejoicing community of the early church in Acts 2? 

Jesus instructed his followers to love each other with these words in John 3: “As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” How can we live out this weighty command and show the world our Lord through the way we share our lives together?

How can individuals practise living as housemates and meaningfully care for one another without simply being strangers under one roof? Is it possible for families, couples and single people to live in community together? Can we have a real and relevant community that cares for its members and welcomes in outsiders?

I recently asked a few friends if they would ever consider living in some kind of modern commune. (Not the kind where you have to grow your own vegetables though, because I planted half a packet of sunflower seeds this year and succeeded in growing a grand total of one flower.) The first friend I consulted wanted to know if there would be goats. The second’s only condition was that there be a hot tub. And the third was very keen to have a piano. 

Is Christian community more a concept or way of living than a visible thing? Along the spectrum from buying a castle for everyone to live in, to always having an open front door and spare food in the freezer, what should it – or could it – look like today?

I would be really interested to hear your thoughts on some of these questions, to help us think more about the way we do community!

My solitary sunflower, or, how can we live and grow together?