Senses

What are you feeling?

It sounds like an innocuous, innocent enough question, doesn’t it? But what - when you get down to it - does it actually mean?

What are your senses taking in at this very moment?

What one of the big five takes the lead? Taste, touch, sight, smell or hearing? Take a moment to notice your senses right now, where you are. What can you see, hear or smell? Is there a lingering taste in your mouth? What is your hand touching? What does it feel like?

Let yourself become aware of your senses.

And these are just the big five: the headliners, the celebrities and key influencers in the world of senses. What about their lesser known colleagues, the unknown, under-appreciated senses?

Neurologists, psychologists and sociologists disagree about the number of senses a human has. (I like to imagine the debate getting out of hand like the rival news reporters in Anchorman. Maybe even with other -ologists getting involved.) 20? 30? Even 50-something? (Look at this blog for some more details)

Some of those lesser known senses could include the sense of heat, or colour, or balance. Hunger, thirst, the need for oxygen. 

So, back to the question: what do you feel? What temperature are you? How’s your balance? How are your muscles? What is your skin feeling? Is it stretched taught or loose? Are the hairs on your arms standing tall?

Try closing your eyes and concentrating on these senses for a moment. You’ll have to open your eyes again in a bit to read the next part though…

Having taken a deep dive into all of this, I have been amazed again at the human body. How all these senses, however many there are, happen automatically, without our command. And the interconnectedness of our bodies and the senses: did you know that we construct flavour by combining taste, smell, touch and temperature? And that there is a connection between sight and the sense of our own heartbeat?

Then there is the whole question of how the modern world affects our use of our senses. Some psychologists argue that our senses are so underused that they can become over sensitive which may lead to stress, anxiety and depression. Or our senses simply atrophy over time and stagnate so we are less aware of the wonderful world around us.

At Ocean Church we believe that we are all spiritual. Where does a spiritual sense fit into this? How is this spiritual sense connected to all the others? Is this sense also underused in our modern world?

My two big takeaways from all this sensitivity are about appreciation and attention. Take a moment to appreciate how awesome your body and brain are in combining all of this different sensory information. We are truly fearfully and wonderfully made as Psalm 139 says. 

And secondly, what sense can I give more attention to? When next by the ocean, how can I pay attention to all of the sensory overload? What might God be showing my spiritual sense? How are they all interacting and feeding into one another? 

Maybe some of us are a little sensory deprived. How about paying attention to all of our senses and experiencing our heartbeat, spiritual sense and sense of balance on our next walk?

https://www.sensorytrust.org.uk/blog/how-many-senses-do-we-have

https://www.sciencefocus.com/the-human-body/how-many-senses-do-we-have

Mist, vapour and smoke

Have you ever spent time in the mist?

From afar mist and clouds look impressive, substantial and beautiful. Maybe you’ve passed through them in an aeroplane, or climbing a mountain, or in a cloud forest. Inside the mist you can lose your bearings, sound can be distorted and the landscape changes. It can feel all-encompassing, uncontrollable and disorientating.

But when you try to hold or touch mist, the reality becomes clear: it is insubstantial and transient, you can’t hold it: it’s like it’s not actually there, a vapour. It may appear solid, but when you try to grab onto it, there’s nothing there.

I’ve been reading Ecclesiastes in the Bible recently. The author of Ecclesiastes writes about Solomon who was incredibly successful, rich and wise. The most powerful king Israel have ever had. Yet Ecclesiastes determines all life’s successes as ‘hevel’ which could be translated as vapour or smoke or mist. Work, wealth, honour, self-indulgence, even wisdom, Solomon’s most famous success: all vapour.

Vapour is here today and gone tomorrow, like the clouds. You can’t catch it or keep it or bottle it up. It is passing, transitory, it doesn’t last and doesn’t satisfy.

Ecclesiastes describes the best that life has to offer, the things that we chase after as vapour, or in other translations as vanity or meaningless. A chasing after the wind. Hevel.

This world and all its trappings, treasures and treats are transitory, passing, like the mist, like a vapour. Although they can feel so permanent, all-encompassing and everlasting; they will pass away like the mist on a hot day.

But the Bible teaches of a deeper reality that is much more substantial and long-lasting than this vapour that constitutes the life we know. A spiritual reality; life after death. The physical reality that we now live in is, in reality, a mist. And the spiritual reality, that we cannot actually see or feel, is, in fact, much longer lasting and real. Hard to get your head round.

The conclusion of Ecclesiastes is that one day God will clear the hevel away and bring order and clarity. This life is temporary and fleeting and we can stop trying to control it, stop worrying and accept the mistiness. Everything in life is out of our control, like the mist. However, we can enjoy the simple, good things of life, like family and friends or a sunny afternoon. Experiencing and enjoying life as it is. More than this, we can trust God who can guide us through the mist and outlasts it.

Can we see through the mist to what is lasting?

*Thanks to the teaching of Andrew Wilson for the inspiration for this, as well as the Ben Folds Five song ‘Smoke’. Give it a listen, go on.

Infinity

Infinity is a tricky concept. How can you understand the idea of something continuing forever? No beginning and no end?

Although, as I think about it now, I wonder if its easier to imagine infinity when you’re younger because it seems like you’ll live forever. As you get a bit older life seems less permanent.

I think nature gives us some great images of infinity. The waves lapping backward and forward on the shoreline as the tide comes in and recedes, comes in and recedes again. The ocean reaches to the horizon, but you know that it goes on and on. The first time my children saw the ocean they just stood and stared. Sometimes we still do.

I once got to see the spectacular Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. It felt like I had never seen so much water, just pouring continually down forever. My brain couldn’t understand why it didn’t run out, there was that much water. A continually flowing waterfall is a great image of eternity.

Victoria Falls is called ‘the smoke that thunders’ because you can hear the falls long before you see them; a deep roar that builds to a crescendo. And the spray creates ‘smoke’ that drifts high and wide. Knock on effects of the infinitely falling water.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says “He (God) has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”

I love the phrase “He has set eternity in the human heart”. Perhaps that is why we rage against the dying of the light and death feels so wrong.

But yet, what is eternity? As humans we are completely bound by time so trying to get our heads around this idea is near impossible. Even the images of infinity mentioned earlier aren’t really infinite. Waterfalls do dry up.

Psalm 90:2 says “Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the whole world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.”

God is from everlasting to everlasting: no beginning and no end. Tense applies differently here, He is God; the Great I AM. This is a common translation of the name God gave Himself when meeting with Moses at the burning bush (in Exodus 3), but it could just as equally be ‘I will be who I will be’. When you look into infinity, tense loses its meaning.

At this stage of the blog post I’d like to wrap things up neatly and come to some kind of clever conclusion, but the idea of infinity doesn’t allow me to do that. I think that’s okay though. 

Faith and spirituality should lead us to moments of wonder and unknowing, recognising that we are small and finite and the God who is the Great I AM is other: wonderful and infinite, like an ever-flowing waterfall cascading down and down. Maybe wonder and worship is the appropriate response.

Intensity

Some things in life are intense. Storms, sunsets, bright shining sunbeams breaking through the clouds. Massive waves, blustery gales or tornadoes. They can be intensely good moments of beauty and awe and majesty or intensely bad moments of destruction and devastation.

How is this reflected spiritually? What does a high intensity spiritual moment look or feel like? High emotion or hearing from God? Feeling the Holy Spirit? Being close to God? Mountaintop moments where heaven seems close enough to touch, like Elijah’s experience discussed in this blog last week. Maybe it is also true that intensely bad times of life also draw us close to God. Times when we are not in control and cannot cope so look to a higher power for help and answers.

But what about times of low intensity? Grey skies and drizzle, when life is just a bit meh. What do we do with times of spiritual low intensity? When we don’t really feel, experience or hear God?

Here are a few suggestions, but it is clear there is no silver bullet!

• Keep on turning up. Keep praying or seeking God, practicing spiritual disciplines, meeting in community.

• Habits help. Regular spiritual practices, like seeking God outside can be built into everyday life. Like a regular habit of going to the gym even in times of low intensity, spiritual habits help us keep going.

• Be honest! The book of Psalms in the Bible is full of incredibly high and low intensity moments. Some bits are brutal. Using the Psalms to pray and reflect feelings can be really powerful.

• Find friends to walk with. Friends can help carry us through times of low intensity.

• Remember that although God can seem distant, He can actually be completely present. Read this from Henri Nouwen for more: https://henrinouwen.org/meditations/gods-absence-and-presence/ 

I guess the key is to cling to God in high and low intensity moments.

pebbles

Do you have a favourite stony beach? Don’t get me wrong, we all love a sandy beach and all that it entails: sandcastles, massive holes, comfortable sunbathing and so on. But a stony beach is great in its own right. Our favourite has long been Budleigh Salterton from when we lived in Devon. Aside from having an incredible name and a teashop that serves a high class cream tea (the secrets in the doilies), the pebbles on the beach are perfect. 

I love the approach to the seafront. As you get closer you can hear the suck of the waves on the pebbles and the clack and rattle of the smaller ones rolling over each other as they get dragged interminably out to sea and back to shore. A place to hear the very voice of God.

As a family we play ‘choose your favourite pebble’. Rock* and roll, I know. But which one to choose? Pearly white, reflecting the sun or multicoloured with hints of pink and bluey green? Perfectly smooth or pitted and cracked with imperfections? Rounded and oval or misshapen? Fat or flat? Or what about the one with the hole right through it?

Next time you go to a stony beach try playing our game. Feel the pebble you choose. Is it smooth or grainy? Consider it, its weight, shape and colour. Pebbles are formed over long periods of time; the friction of water and being battered by other pebbles smoothing edges and shaping them, making them beautiful. Where has your pebble come from? Where did its journey start? Maybe a desert or a volcano, depending on the type of rock.

Could you allow God to speak to you through your pebble? What journey are you on? Where did it start? What events of life have worn you down or smoothed your sharp edges? How have you been battered or smashed, ground down, but then moulded and shaped? What imperfections are there?

In some ways I feel battered and broken, worn and ground down. Certainly feeling the mileage these days. But I completely believe that God is shaping me, like a pebble in the ocean. Maybe not beautiful yet: does that mean more friction to come?

2 Corinthians 4 verses 8-10: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.”

I’ll let the great Paul Weller have the final word.

Like pebbles on a beach

Kicked around, displaced by feet

Oh, like broken stones

They’re all trying to get home

(Broken Stones by Paul Weller)

* Pun intended. Apologies.

Baptism

Baptism is quite a weird thing, especially if you’re not from a church background. To be fair, even those from a church background would agree that it looks quite odd.

In front of a group of people someone - fully clothed - is lowered completely into water before being helped back up again and everyone claps and cheers. They’re dunked. This often takes place inside a Church building in a ‘baptistry’. This could be a hidden teeny pool at the front normally hidden under floorboards (I got baptised in a place like this, it was a little like magic when the floorboards came up) or in a strange movable dismantle-and-put-back-together pool like the one shown. Like a less fun hot tub. Or it can take place outdoors, in a real pool or a river or the sea. Perhaps more naturally. 

So what is going on? 

A sign

Baptism is a sign of faith in Jesus. It is someone publicly saying that they want to follow Jesus as God and as being in charge. 

A sacrament

It is also a physical act that symbolises a spiritual reality. It is an outward sign of God’s grace in saving.

A cleaning.

A bit like taking a bath to get rid of muck and dirt, it represents being cleaned from sin (failing to love God and others, breaking God’s trust, stuff we do that is wrong). This shows the forgiveness and grace that has been received. 

It also represents death and resurrection. The person dies in the water to their old self or way of life and is then born again when they come back out of the water. They are raised to new life in Jesus. 

I’ve been reading ‘I found my tribe’ by Ruth Fitzmaurice, a brilliant book. It’s not spiritual, but it is really. She says “the sea is my salvation”, “the sea saves me” and “We all need saving again and again and again.” There is a recognition that salvation is found in the water, in the sea. 

This echoes something of baptism which is, let’s be honest, a bizarre act. But also a rich symbol of faith, salvation and the hope of new life. 

At Ocean Church we are going to be celebrating some baptisms this Easter. We’ll do this outside, in the water! Come and join us!

Sight

A couple of years ago I realised that something was wrong. Apparently ‘they’* had decided to make the small print on packaging and labels much smaller and, as a result, unreadable. Who had taken this decision? Why was I not consulted?

I battled bravely on, straining to read the ridiculously tiny writing and occasionally being defeated and needing to guess at a cooking time or asking someone else for help. In the end though, enough was enough and I complained to a higher authority: my wife. Strangely, she didn’t agree that small print had just got smaller; she wondered whether the problem was with me and my eyesight.

Imagine my surprise when the optometrist at the opticians concluded that indeed I needed to wear glasses to help. Worse than this, they asked me my age and were completely unsurprised that my eyesight had got worse. Apparently this is very common. But the glasses made a complete difference. With glasses I can now read small print again. It turns out the problem was with me, not the entire rest of the world. The world was not actually conspiring against me.

Sadly, more often than I’d like to admit, this can be my reaction to problems: if there is something wrong then the fault lies with the world in general or at least someone else. Far more frequently than I care to acknowledge though, like my sight, the problem actually lies with me. Maybe I need to take a good look at myself first. With glasses on of course.

Jesus taught this in Matthew chapter 7:

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

Quite strong. 

It is much easier to see faults and issues outside of ourselves but this won’t help me read cooking instructions.

 *you know them, the baddies who have too much power and influence in this world.

Family

I write this in that strange no-man's land between Christmas and New Year and my thoughts are still around Christmas…

Families are funny things. And Christmas time is often dominated by them. Family dynamics can make or break big celebratory meals and there can be unease or unspoken issues that cast long shadows, at the very least there’s that slightly awkward uncle who makes inappropriate jokes. For some reading this it might be the absence of family and loneliness that is hard over Christmas. It can be a really hard time for someone dealing with grief or separation.

The advent story presents an interesting family dynamic. A stressful long-distance journey, a lack of sleeping space in Bethlehem without even any blow-up beds available and - scandalous at the time - a pregnancy out of wedlock. 

We’re going to zoom in on one member of the original Christmas family: Joseph. Nativity-wise that is surely a plum role for someone, but dig a little deeper and he doesn’t actually get that many great lines: leading a donkey and knocking on doors mainly. However his role is crucial. Why? Famously, he’s not Jesus’ actual father. In fact when Joseph finds out that Mary is pregnant, he plans to divorce her quietly. This would actually have been a kindness as adultery was punishable by death at the time. Strangely these details don’t always make the primary school nativity play. 

But the Old Testament part of the Bible is full of prophecies about Jesus, the rescuer, the Messiah who was coming to save. Some of the prophecies centre on his family line, being of the line of possibly the most famous King of Israel, David (he of giant killing fame). Now crucially this is fulfilled, not through Mary, but through Joseph. He is of the line of David. It is through Joseph, his adoptive father, that Jesus fulfills many of the prophecies spoken about him. Joseph had a massive role to play in this redemptive history, by saying yes to God. 

It always astounds me that God’s plans, purposes and prophecies depend on normal, weak people. Like Joseph. Like me, and like you.

Joseph adopting Jesus into his family is right at the centre of the Christmas story. It links back to King David and someone of his family line ruling as King for ever. It even links back to Abraham and God blessing all nations through his seed. And it links forward to followers of Jesus today. 

Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son.       Ephesians 5-6, the Message.

Through Jesus, we are adopted into the very family of God. Let's be honest: this family also has a few oddballs in it. But we are accepted as children of God, completely welcomed into His family and given all of the lavish gifts that come with this. Just as Joseph accepted and welcomed Jesus. 

Maybe Christmas has been a hard time for you on the family front, but it is also a reminder that Christ followers are adopted into the family of God.

Light

This blog is going to dig into Christmas. This may be a really fun time of year for you or it could present many challenges. Try using this blog as a way to step back and reflect for just a moment.

We’re in the darkest part of the year in the UK. We don’t see much sunlight, going out to work in the darkness and coming home in the dark as well. It can all get a bit depressing. Seasonal affective disorder is a real thing that affects many people. One of the ways we often combat this is with artificial Christmas lights to bring some light and cheer. This then opens up the debate between cool and warm lights: what do you prefer? Artificial light emits a static spectrum. Cool white LED and most fluorescents mimic daylight which is blue rich, from the blue end of the spectrum. This can interfere with our sleep and recovery, it’s not good for us at night. 

Warmer lights and traditional incandescent light sources mimic sunsets which are red-rich, so they are good for evening illumination but don’t make us feel light and alert. All artificial light has a different mix of biological and energy impacts.

Natural light is completely different. It is full spectrum, containing all the colours of the rainbow, and dynamic, so the intensity and mix of colours change throughout the day. High blue content to wake us up in the morning to soft red-rich in the evening which tells our bodies to relax and get ready for sleep.

It is also a different level of power. In terms of lux (the unit used to measure light, didn’t you know?) sunlight measures between 50,000 and 100,000 lux. An average artificial light bulb is 250-500 lux, even a light box is only 10,000 lux. 

Followers of Jesus suggest that there is a source of spiritual light as well. We can spend a lot of time looking for sources of light that are pale imitations of the real thing, weak in lux terms and that don’t do us the good of the real thing. In the Christmas story Jesus is described as the light many times, described as the sun, the source of natural powerful light.

 The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; a light has dawned on those living in the land of darkness. (Isaiah 9:2)

 Jesus is true, natural, full spectrum, dynamic light. 

 As I think about the darkness inside me and the darkness outside in the world, can I make some time this season to spend in the natural sun and with the real light of the world?

An advent prayer from Henri Nouwen:

 Lord Jesus,

Master of both the light and the darkness, 

send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.

We who have so much to do and seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day,

We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us.

We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.

We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.

We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.

To you we say, “Come Lord Jesus!’

Co-authors

A few blogs ago I wrote about narrative and had planned to write a connected follow up. Sadly, this amazing plan failed because I forgot. Just remembered recently, so here goes…

 I don’t know about you, but books with co-authors sometimes concern me. When a hugely popular author partners with another writer is it just the lesser-known writer hanging onto the coat-tails of the famous one? You know what I mean, the size of the font used for the less famous name is staggeringly smaller. Or is the truth actually the other way around? Has the famous author just got someone else to do all the hard graft and put their name on the project? Cynical, I realise. But then what about famous sports (insert other areas of popular culture here as well) personalities who write incredibly literate autobiographies, using ghost writers? Ghost writer’s names don’t even make the front cover.

Sometimes, though, co-authors have an equal footing. My go-to-example here has to be the late, great Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, writing Good Omens. Genius. Apparently they took a lead with different plot lines and then wrote in each other’s styles to keep consistency. I’ll stop geeking out here and just encourage you to go and read Good Omens. Then come back and finish this blog off.

 Where were we? Oh yes, I wanted to link the idea of co-authoring to the story of our lives, as discussed in the previous blog.Who writes the narrative of our lives? Us? Fate? God or a Spiritual force? The Bible says that we are co-workers in God’s service (1 Corinthians 3:9). Throughout the story of the Bible we see God and people as active agents in life. It suggests that actually we are co-authors of our lives with God. Let that sit for a moment.

 Is God writing the story of our lives, introducing new characters, settings, allowing us to experience moments of conflict and resolution? Or do we make all of the decisions? Take responsibility for whatever happens, good or bad?

What might it mean to understand this idea of being co-authors? And who gets the larger font size on the front cover?

I am skirting around the outsides of a massive debate here about God’s sovereignty and human responsibility. Without going into any kind of details, the idea of being co-authors is to say that God is sovereign and in control and we make our own decisions and are responsible. At the same time.

How might I view life though, if I think of myself as a co-author with the King of all Kings? That we get to share the writing credits in some way? The Bible suggests that this isn’t only through the decisions and choices we make, but also through that great mystery: prayer. That we can pray and co-author with God Himself who acts on our prayers!

 Maybe this whole blog has just raised more questions than answers, but I encourage you to write the story of your life well, maybe even seeking advice from your co-author.

 Postscript:

To further extend this metaphor to near breaking point, I’ve also been thinking about how we’re not only co-authors of our own lives, but about our impact on the lives of others, Not as co-authors perhaps, but surely enough to get a mention in their acknowledgements section. Definitely our nearest and dearest. Now that is a motivation to write well and make sure the grammar and punctuation are correct.

Straight to the source

I’ve been reading lots of the Old Testament part of the Bible this year. Some great narratives and foundations of God choosing a people to reflect Him and bless others. But it’s also a tragedy. People constantly messing up, not trusting God and running from Him.

There’s a lot of that in the book of Exodus. The tradition states that God saves the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, performing breathtaking and awful miracles in the process; takes the people through the Red Sea and towards a land He promises to them.

Partway along this journey though, is a moment which has really resonated with me.

When God gives the ten commandments, the people have the opportunity to listen directly to Him. He is right in the midst of His people (at a certain distance for their safety) in thunder and lightning and smoke and a roar of noise. It is fearsome and awesome; unforgettable and overwhelming. The people have an opportunity to directly relate with the awesome, almighty God. If I stop here for a moment just to consider my view of who God is, His power and might, I feel a challenge. Is this the God I believe in and try to follow? Or is my view of God too small?

But I think this is a crucial point for the Israelites. Up until now, God has spoken to them (and Pharoah) through Moses and Aaron, the leaders. They have seen God work in mighty ways, they have seen Him accompanying them and protecting them as fire and cloud, but they have not directly related to God, it has always been through someone else.

Now, though, they have the chance to directly hear from God himself! How will they respond? And here comes the tragedy.

“When the people saw the thunder and the lightning and heard the trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at a distance and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.” (Exodus 20: 18-19)

The people remained at a distance. They were too afraid to approach God directly – and before I get too critical from my incredibly different life experience, they had good reason. They had seen people killed by the awesome power of God. This was no small thing.

But instead of approaching they asked Moses to speak to God on their behalf, and share God’s word with them. They preferred a leader to lead them to God rather than go directly to Him themselves.

How different could things have been?

But how often do we do the same? Settling for second-hand spirituality? How often do we look to others to lead us to God rather than approaching Him directly? Depending on an intermediary? How often do we go straight to the source? The source of life and love, of power and peace. The All-consuming fire.

Can I be too obsessed with other leaders and rely on their relationships with God instead of going straight to Him myself? Depending on pre-digested, ready meals instead of burning-hot, face-to-face contact? How could I approach the mountain, covered in smoke and lightning and thunder? What would my attitude be as I did? On my knees I imagine.

How can we go straight to the source? Through Jesus, I believe the offer is open to us even more than it was to the Israelites at the foot of that mountain. Dare we go close enough to feel the heat?

Narrative

Narrative seems like a popular word these days. Beloved of authors, film critics and even football pundits, you can’t get away from it. I think back in the day it was just called ‘story’, but narrative sounds grander, imbibed with significance and, well for want of a better word, narrative…

I wonder what the narrative of your life is right now?

Steamy romance? Exciting adventure? The third and final act? Or is it more tragedy with no resolution in sight?

Perhaps there can be a danger that we look for narrative in life when there is none? That sometimes events just happen and there is no great overarching journey or story arc for us as the heroine or hero of our lives. That there isn’t a lesson to learn and there won’t be a resolution at the end; certainly no happy ever after. Maybe we left fairy tales behind a long time ago anyway. Could it be that the narrative of our lives is not part of some greater cinematic universe and we also can’t just reboot the whole story and find a different actor to play the main protagonist (us) in a new version.

So why do we look for it all the time? Why is narrative so compelling and attractive and memorable? In many cultures stories are used to teach or pass on morality. They stick. When was the last time you heard a great storyteller expounding their craft? What can you remember from it?

We are all storytellers of one type or another. The narrative of our lives is made up of the stories that we tell each other and ourselves. The memories and events that we relive and talk about. The small and large moments of tragedy or comedy that have shaped us and made us who we are. Even the telling and retelling of these stories shapes our sense of self. Why do we focus on some narratives more than others?

But what if we are all caught up in some overarching narrative? What if the very reason we are looking for the cinematic universe that joins all the stories together is that it does exist? What if there is one storyline and we are, not the main protagonist, but part of it, on the cast list, be it in ever so small font when the credits do finally roll?

So what is this narrative? Who is the main character? Who is the hero and what is the quest? Where does my part fit in? Do I even have a speaking part or, as I sometimes suspect, am I just an extra?

The Christian tradition does describe life as a story, one told in the Bible. In it the hero is not us, rather it is Jesus. He is the focus of the story, He begins and ends it. As I consider this I find it freeing. It frees me from self-obsession, from trying to tie everything that happens in life back to me. It also gives me a wider perspective and purpose.

To connect to this narrative, my family and I are watching ‘The Chosen’ (Home | The Chosen), an incredible retelling of Jesus’ life. While some of it is fictional and needs some careful consideration, it has been inspirational and emotional to see the story of Jesus represented in a fresh way. I also cannot help but look at the narrative of my own life and where it fits in His. 

Creativity

God is, by His very nature, creative. He created existence, everything that exists, from ants to zebras (and Mayfly too (see previous blog)). Being creative, then, is a way that we can reflect something of who God is and what He does. It can be an act of worship.

Lots of us can feel a lack of confidence though when it comes to creativity: we can feel that we’re not good at it; that we have no talent; or inspiration; or time.

But if by being creative we can tap into God, connect to Him, maybe then it is worth persisting with this creativity thing. Creativity is broad. It is more than just artistic ability, instead it includes cooking, gardening, writing, music, woodwork, clothing design and much more.

Gardening is one that is starting to chime with me at the moment and this is closely linked to a command given to Adam right at the beginning of the Bible: to subdue the earth, creating gardens from chaos, order from disorder. There is something amazing about growing something, seeing it blossom and flower and produce seeds. My wife actually grew a number of flowers from seed for the first time this year and is loving the creativity of it, already making plans for what she will do next year.

Two big barriers to creativity for me are a sense of inadequacy (sounds like a good excuse, doesn’t it?) and plain laziness (perhaps a more honest excuse) Counterintuitively, creativity takes discipline, time and hard work. It doesn’t just happen by mistake. I need to set time aside, find a place and keep at it. To go meta for a moment, this blog itself is a chance to be creative. But I have had to make myself set time apart to think and write the actual stuff that I am thinking and writing right now.

How can we seek to be creative in order to meet with our actual creator? To sing a song to the one who invented music and ultimately keeps time? To write with small, poorly-chosen words to the Living Word who spoke existence into being? To paint or draw to the one whose canvas is the sky itself? What barriers do you need to knock down?

For when we create, we are mirroring our Creator, however imperfectly and small scale. The first chapter of the Bible, Genesis 1, also says that we are made in the image of God, in His likeness. Creative, like Him.

And who is the audience for our creations? Are they just for us? Do we want them to be seen by millions, like Van Gogh’s Sunflowers that I recently saw in the National Gallery? Or maybe they could just be offered back to the original Creator.

Fair weather swimming

Last weekend I got to see an amazing sight: over 1,000 members of a relatively rare species active in their native habitat. I’m talking about serious sea-swimmers in the Bournemouth Pier to Pier swim; an amazing event that raised over a quarter of a million pounds for the British Heart Foundation. How do you spot a serious sea swimmer? Generally, they will be wearing a dry robe (any place, any time of the day), holding a hot water bottle in the colder months and talking about air and sea temperature (did you know that in the UK, the sea is warmest in September? Although my wife disputes this and says it is actually October.) I am married to a card-carrying member of this species and can only admire everyone who took part in the Pier to Pier swim.

Unlike my wife, I didn’t grow up near the sea and don’t have salt in my blood, but a deep love for the sea is growing in me. The sense of endlessness; the feeling of being ‘on the edge’ of things; the forever changing sky at the horizon; the sound and rhythm of the waves and breakers: the list of things to love goes on and on, much like the sea itself.

One thing that is surprising me though is the enjoyment of being in or on the water itself. We’ve borrowed a few different pieces of kit from the Watersports library and had lots of fun with them, but I’ve also enjoyed just swimming in the sea (strictly summer months only). I’m not a natural, the process of entering involves a lot of oohs and aahs and generally takes at least ten minutes- you know the routine: acclimatising in stages- toes, then knees; that challenging midriff area, elbows, then finally shoulders. My wife doesn’t understand the art of this process and goes from zero to 100% submerged in seconds. Doing it that way misses the realisation that it really is ‘alright once you’re in’ though.

Anyway, when you finally are in (and however you get there) and move away from the shore, there is a connection to the water, a stretching out and loosening of muscles, the sensation of being in the unknown (are there sharks down there in the depths?) and that peace as you get further away from the sand and the shouts. Sound is different on the water.

At Ocean Church we explore the idea of water being spiritual. I think there is something about the vastness of the ocean that confronts you with your own smallness and finiteness. The power and the unknown, the mystery and the beauty point to a creator. Being in or on the water is definitely a way of engaging with and experiencing that- even if it is just for the summer months.

People describe the sea as their ‘saviour’ or ‘refuge’ or even ‘heaven’: language often associated with spirituality. How can we engage with this in the water? A link to infinity and eternity; power and mystery. A chance to clear our heads from all the white noise and tune in to our creator. Psalm 42 says “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.”

It’s lovely when you’re in, who wants to join me? Whether fully emersed and wet suited up; only fair-weather swimming; or even just on the shore, could we meet with the one “who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand” (Isaiah 40:12).