In God's hands

I often find myself asking God what my earthly future holds, wanting to know what might happen to me, or to those around me. 
  
A friend gets an exciting new job and I wonder what my next career step will be. I watch a film where a boy and girl get their own happily ever after, and I wonder if that will happen to me. I see a friend have the courage to move to a new place, and I wonder where I might live one day. I often want to know the answers to these and I bring them to God. 
  

  
From my experience of trying to walk with the Lord, he doesn't generally tell us what he is going to do in the detail of life before he does it. So our calling is to trust in his faithfulness. In his faithfulness to us and to his promises as revealed in the Bible. There are things we are certain he will bring about. But there are lots of things in life that are less clear. God doesn't promise to tell us what he is going to do or when he is going to do it. But when we call to him wanting answers, we know he hears us and he cares. 
  
God does not necessarily mark out mini milestones for us to reach, like a baby toddling between pieces of furniture a few steps at a time, always looking for the next secure thing to grab hold of. But he holds us completely in his hands, like a parent with a newborn. 
  
A minister friend of mine once said that if we could see all the ups and downs in our lives before they came about, we would not have the strength to face them. God doesn't show us a roadmap of our earthly lives in advance. Instead, he calls us to trust him. 
  
We are called to take baby steps, and indeed giant leaps, not because we can see what's coming, but because he can, and he will never leave us. 

It's not about the broccoli

In case it’s not already highlighted in your diaries as the focal point of your month, 23rd March is Broccoli Appreciation Day (according to a highly official diary I was given several years ago).

Each year I insist on celebrating this feast day with friends, in what has essentially become a broccoli-themed Ready Steady Cook. There was the year of the broccoli and blue garlic appetisers, the time I tried chocolate truffles garnished with raw broccoli spears – and there’s usually some kind of pasta and broccoli bake to form the main carb component.

Despite all this, however, I actually have a small confession to make: I’m not that big a fan of broccoli. I mean, it’s ok (if you have ever cooked me broccoli, I’ve not been hiding it in my handbag or anything). As vegetables go, it’s quite tasty, and the little trees are quite cute.

But Broccoli Appreciation Day has come to be about more than just the broccoli. It’s an excuse to gather with others, to prepare and share a meal together, and to find fun in the everyday.

If broccoli really isn’t your thing, find something else. Find something that helps you connect with another human being, because we were made to relate to others.

Watching a film you could take or leave because a friend has no one to go to the cinema with. Saying yes to playing a sport you’re not that keen on because it’s a way to get alongside someone else who wants to. Getting involved with some DIY or wall painting for someone that just need doing.

Ultimately all these activities are just surface decoration. What matters most is what’s happening underneath them – the art of building community with other people, however small.

And if broccoli is really someone else’s thing, join in anyway, and if necessary, hide it in your handbag.

This post was also published on Those Lines.

It's going to be ok.

Usually when I wake up in the morning, as my alarm drags me into the day and I fight to keep my eyes open, I turn to social media to get the cogs turning and catch up with the world. Yesterday morning (9 November 2016), however, I hesitated before tapping the little Facebook icon. This was going to be a big one. 

I knew I needed to engage with some more ground-breaking realities first before facing the next mad thing of 2016, whichever way the US election had gone while I slept. So, I tapped the Bible app instead and sleepily listened to the first two psalms. 

These verses talk about what makes a person blessed, about delighting in the Lord, and about real wisdom. They refocus our gaze on the number one priority: being right with God and knowing him. 

Psalm 2 is particularly striking. It talks about people and leaders plotting against God, and yet how little we need to fear that. It reminds me of the story of the tower of Babel, where people want to demonstrate their own greatness by building a huge tower to the heavens, which ironically God has to come down to look at. Humans are always trying to make themselves great, to seek power and prove their worth. But this psalm makes it abundantly clear that God has already appointed his chosen king, greater than any earthly leader. It ends with a call to submit to that king, Jesus Christ, and celebrate his rule – for that is where true blessing lies. 

These truths are a great way to start any day, but they were particularly welcome yesterday. Armed with the truth of God's promises, I ventured into the online world, and was so very glad to have prepared my heart. There were so many messages of despair and people crying 'God help us' without any actual hope of his doing so. It made me sad to realise the hopelessness of so many who do not have the comfort of these words when world affairs do not go the way they would wish. Even those who were satisfied with the outcome would benefit from knowing this promise of a far better ruler. 

I'm so thankful to know that these words are true. It is a joy to be certain of Christ's future reign in the daily grind, but especially so to be assured on more momentous days that God is in control and will bring all things under the rule and authority of Jesus Christ. 

Psalm 2 says that in the face of the world's rulers plotting together, the One enthroned in heaven laughs. Most of us probably don't feel like laughing at the state of the world, whatever our reaction to this week's news, but the creator can scoff at these things. He has already chosen a much bigger and better king than even our favourite president. 

So don't place either your despair or your confidence in the leaders of the world. Leaders come and leaders go; nothing shocks the God who made them all. Instead, listen to the call of God's word, and look to that perfect ruler who lasts forever.

This post was also published on Those Lines.

Just so

I like things just so, and I like to get things right first time. I think I'm what they call a perfectionist. 

I put lots of time into getting something just the way I want it, I have set ways of doing things, and I agonise over seemingly simple decisions. I carefully plan and prepare. I pack for holidays using a list, check my car before a long drive, read and re-read instructions. 

If you're much like me, these probably sound like normal, sensible choices. But the more I interact with different people, the more I question why I do what I do. 

This was highlighted for me recently when driving with a passenger, and there was a car parked in the spot I usually use to manoeuvre. When faced with an unexpected choice in the car, some people go into panic mode; others just make a snap decision and stick with it. 

I will stop in the middle of the road to think about it (ahem...only if it is safe to do so).

I pack using a tried-and-tested list. Because I don't want to forget anything. And because I don't want to own up to having forgotten something.

I check my oil and tyre pressure. Because I don't want to break down, sure, but also because it's what I've been told to do, and if I do break down, I don't want it to be my fault.

I obsess over the detail of instructions. Because I don't want to make a mistake. I want to get it right on the first attempt, and I don't want to have to admit I misunderstood. 

My careful actions all work for the avoidance of regret, of shame, and of looking bad. In short, my perfectionism serves my pride – it is sin. 

I am proud of remembering things, having a clean record, and not missing details. These things might not seem like bad things, but when I hold my achievements and reputation more highly than the wise use of my time and more highly than the feelings of others (or, er, the Highway Code), there is clearly a problem. 

And it's a problem that seems impossible to fix by myself. The thought of letting go of these things is horrifying, and easy to reason away. But perhaps when I next make a mistake – I am still human, after all – I could start by holding my hands up and admitting I am not perfect. And little by little, my perfect Maker can change my heart.

Life in common

I shared some thoughts a while ago about the idea of community living and what that might look like for us today. Recently I had the opportunity to visit Hockerton Housing Project. I've been intrigued by the concept of living in community for a while, so when a last-minute space became available on a colleague's field trip, I took it. 

We spent an afternoon at this intentional eco-community of five households near Southwell, Nottinghamshire, whose aim it is to live sustainably. In many ways, Hockerton is what you might expect of an eco-community. The rooves have photovoltaic panels and there are two wind turbines on-site. The land is farmed for animals and fruit and veg. Rainwater is collected via the roof guttering and cleaned for drinking by three filters (UV, carbon and string), while water for washing is filtered through sand. Amazingly, the homes are naturally heated using a clever combination of the sun, triple-glazing, well-sealed doors and the fact that most of the house is covered by a hill (think Teletubbyland and you won't be far off). 

The view from the roof at Hockerton Housing Project

What's more, everything has a use – pigs turn the land over ready to be farmed, and non-decomposable car tyres are used all over the place for all sorts of novel purposes. There were also two different types of composting toilet – we may have only been there for a few hours, but naturally I tried them both. 

All of this was pretty interesting, being very different to the city life I am used to, but I wasn't convinced this way of living would be a practical possibility for the whole country to imitate. It was a huge financial investment to set up in the first place, with many legal and practical challenges. On top of that, I felt a sense of judgment towards those of us who live in less well-insulated houses with power showers and rooves made of slate rather than solar panels and old tyres. Having said that, it did get me thinking about ways in which we can minimally apply some of their principles even in the city, by considering our waste and shopping locally to reduce our food miles.

However, the thing I was most keen to ask the community members about was how it functioned from a relational aspect. Each family unit owns their own home, and the adults have outside jobs, but each household commits upon joining to give a minimum number of hours to the community and the business (be that farming, cleaning, or consultancy). Each brings their own skills to the community and the tasks are shared. 

There is a communal "vetting" system when one of the five houses becomes vacant, whereby members of the existing community assess a list of interested buyers. This seems fair enough, if you have to live together in such close proximity and work towards the same goals. Our tour guide did indicate that extroverts were preferable candidates for this kind of setup, but I think I know a good number of self-labelled introverts for whom community living among a small group of trusted like-minded fellows would be just the thing.

The Hockerton community has private family celebrations and shared community ones – for festivals like Christmas, Easter, Hanukkah, Bonfire Night and Halloween. I see this side of things already existing in our more geographically dispersed communities. We have our own gatherings for members of the family or household, and wider events of varying sizes for any excuse we can think of, be it birthdays, Christmas, or Broccoli Appreciation Day (23rd March). 

So, I'm still thinking about community. I wouldn't want to live in a place like this – I still prefer life in the city over the isolation of the country, and I'm not much good at gardening (and if I'm honest, the composting toilets did scare me a little). But it's given me some things to think about. To live in a more economically and environmentally sustainable way is more easily done in a team. And to truly share in life together, we have to be prepared to open our doors. 

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?