Entitlement and Elitism

Many are concerned that today's young people in the West feel 'entitled' - to material goods, to satisfying jobs, to ideal romantic partners. Brought up in reasonable comfort, with the world's knowledge at their fingertips; with parents and teachers doing all they can to ensure minimal difficulties, maximum success, great self-esteem... high numbers of teens and young adults seem to expect life, liberty and happiness to be handed to them on a plate.

At the same time, I'm aware of growing segregation, xenophobia, elitism - call it what you will. when I started writing this, nearly four years ago, there were presidential campaigns in the United States which were becoming more and more bitter as people of each persuasion condemned those of the other party. That's unlikely to change with the coming campaigns this year. But although the United States elections are the most publicised, similar anger and divisiveness happens all over the world.

I scan a couple of news websites on my phone most mornings, and sometimes spend longer during the day reading news articles on my computer. Most of it is negative. So many wars, so much violence around the world. Today's news sites have heart-rending articles about children starving, some of them dying in Ukraine and Palestine. But there are also articles about troops gathering in South American countries, torture and slavery in China, violence in African countries, and more. 

So much hatred. So much bigotry. 

Galatians 5:22 tells us that the 'fruits of the Spirit' are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. That means that those of us who follow Christ, who believe we have the indwelling Holy Spirit, should be demonstrating these things. 

Are Christians generally known to everyone else by these fruits...? Sadly, no. In many cases Christians as well as those of other religions and 'secular' people are involved in destruction, condemnation, unkindness. 

I started thinking about past generations, of the tendency of people to want to feel superior, one way or another. The apartheid system in much of the world - most notably South Africa - genuinely believed that people with pale skin were superior to those with darker skin. 'Ethnic cleansing', and many of Hitler's beliefs were related to this twisted idea that 'white' skins and fair hair are supreme. 

Then there are patriarchal societies around the world which believe that men are not just physically stronger than women, but more intelligent, more capable of making decisions, and that they can treat women however they wish. Even in the supposedly enlightened Western world, it's only in the past hundred years or so that society has recognised that women should be able to vote, to work in professions such as medicine and law, to be paid the same amount as men for doing the same job, to be protected under the same laws that protect men.

Going back a couple of thousand years, since the start of the Church there have been battles, often violent, between those who are convinced they have the right path to God and want to persuade others by force. Jesus, who did nothing wrong - and a great deal that was right - was killed as a criminal. His early followers were persecuted for talking about a new way of love and reconciliation. Then Christianity was given state approval, and started doing its own persecution.

Even further back in history, the Jewish people regularly massacred those of other nations. They believed God was telling them to do so. 

And yet, when God originally called Abraham (in Genesis 12), he chose him so that his descendants could be a blessing to the other nations, not so that they could subdue them. Certainly there were some terrible things that the pagan countries were doing. The Jews, by following healthy dietary and sanitary rules (in a society which knew nothing of germs) were supposed to live long lives and spread God's message amongst those around them. There are some wonderful examples in the Bible: the story of Esther, for instance, or Ruth, of the Jewish people spreading God's love to others. But there are, too, many stories of bloodshed and violence in the Hebrew Bible; I don't pretend to understand them.

The New Testament, however, is much clearer that we who follow Jesus are to be 'salt and light' in the world. We are to be known by our love for one another, and our good example to all. Salt preserves: it slows or even stops decay, and enhances the product that is salted. Light makes darkness disappear: it shows things for what they really are.

Jesus mixed with the most despised people of his time, and was criticised for doing so. He forgave those who broke the Ten Commandments. He healed those considered the lowest of the low. He reached out in love and compassion to everyone he came in contact with, other than the hypocritical and superior religious leaders. He asked for nothing but wholehearted commitment. He gave everything, including his own life.

In the Gospels, and also in some of the letters in the New Testament written to new gatherings of believers, we learn that we of the human race are all of value in God's sight. Whether male or female, Jew or Gentile, we are loved. Whether fair-skinned or dark-skinned, young or old; whatever our gender, or political persuasion, or cultural background, or sexual orientation, we are created in God's image. No 'sin' or error is too great to be forgiven. From those to whom much is given, much is expected.

Yet despite the supposedly enlightened times in which we live, this principle seems to have been lost in today's entitlement world. I've heard of too many young (and not-so-young) people whose philosophy is more along the lines of, 'To those to whom much is given, much more should be given.' 

Certainly our children need to be loved, and to be told that they are of value. Philip Yancey popularised the truth that, 'There is nothing we can do to make God love us more… and nothing we can do to make God love us less.' This is the kind of unconditional love that parents need to communicate to their children. I believe passionately in non-violent and non-coercive parenting, in encouraging our children to find good solutions to problems and to make their own decisions, wherever possible.

And yes, society is, in some ways, more loving and accepting than it was in the past. Women are, in many cultures, recognised for their abilities. Mixed culture marriages are more and more common, and no longer cause raised eyebrows, at least in European countries. It's very good that those with special needs are given opportunities rather than locked away, that those who struggle with academics are given help rather than written off as uneducable. 

But, somewhere amidst the technological revolution and the increase of acceptance of those different from us, we seem to have lost the ability to take responsibility for our actions? Forgiveness and unconditional love don't mean that we should ignore the long-term effects of our children's behaviour. Everyone needs to understand that decisions they make may have consequences: sometimes immediate, sometimes in the long-term future. Perhaps a broken toy can be mended, perhaps not. Whether broken deliberately or by carelessness, a child's actions will have consequences. 

As we help our children see that every action or decision may have an effect or consequence, perhaps they will start to believe us when we tell them that some things will have effects many years in the future. Even such basics as brushing teeth, eating fruit and vegetables or running around outside are important for the child's long-term health. We all make decisions every day, and part of maturity is learning to make positive ones.

I don't think it's healthy, however, to compare a child with others, to push for competition, or to reward them for good 'grades'. I heard of someone recently saying that children needed to be taught to be 'ordinary'. Most of them won't go on to be top CEOs, or Olympic athletes or highly paid entertainers. They - and we - need to learn to be content, sometimes, to be 'good enough' parents, or secretaries, or aid workers, or builders, or whatever our current vocation or role involves. 

It doesn't much matter what career we follow, or what job we do: God wants us to grow into increasingly loving people who are a blessing to others. If we demonstrate the principle that the more we have, the more we should give (whether in material terms, or our abilities) and if we encourage our children and teens to do the same, maybe they will gradually lose the idea that they are entitled to more than those around them. 

What is a Christian writer?

A Christian writer is a Christian who writes. 

Obvious, perhaps. And yet some people assume that a Christian writer is someone who writes Biblical exposition, or perhaps overtly evangelistic or devotional articles or books. 

However, we are Christians because we follow Jesus, and we are writers because we believe God wants us to write. So while our worldview and beliefs should overflow into what we write, this can be subtle or implied rather than obvious. 

Writing for ourselves

We learn to write by writing, rather like a musician learns to play through regular practice. It’s important to write even when we don’t feel like it; to make mistakes and learn to put them right. We can write letters we never send, or poems that we can’t get right, or the beginnings of short stories that go nowhere. Most published writers say that for every accepted article or short story. there are dozens that never emerge beyond their notebooks or computers. 

Most of our writing may never be read by anyone other than ourselves. Another example is a journal, which can be a useful way of recording inner thoughts or venting frustrations. Writing our feelings down is often therapeutic, as well as a good way to start the day. But it would probably not be constructive to show our journals to anyone else. 

We learn to write by reading, too, so we get a feel for language, and the different ways that published writers use it. Musicians, similarly, often go to a range of concerts and listen regularly to music. If we want to understand other people, and reach out to them, we need to discover how they think and what they believe. It has been demonstrated that empathy is developed most strongly in the people who read the most fiction[1]. It enables us to get inside the minds of people in cultures or centuries that we can never experience ourselves. 

Writing for publication

At some point, if we are called by God to write, it is likely that some of our work should have a wider audience, in print or online. Whether a letter to an editor in a newspaper, a short article about a significant moment in our life, or a more ambitious project such as a novel or autobiography, it’s easier than ever to be published nowadays, with many options for online forums, blogs or websites, or for print-on-demand self-published books. 

The late Elsie Newman, who founded our local Christian Writing group in 2007, believed that, as Christians, we are called to live in the world, and - as writers - to communicate with those who are not believers, as well as with fellow Christians. There are many people who wouldn’t ever pick up ‘religious’ books by choice. So we need to engage with ‘secular’ writing: whether websites, magazines, newspapers or books, and introduce a Christian worldview in a way that provides hope and encouragement.  

In 2007 she wrote this:

As a Christian, I have to ask myself a few searching questions:

* Am I sure God wants me to use my time in this way?

* Have I something to say, in whatever form, that is relevant to the present world, both Christian and non-Christian?

* Is my writing professional as well as adequate?

The first question is the hardest, and has to be asked often and personally. For me it is much easier when the subject is ‘religious’, but what about the historical novel, or poetry which is not overtly Christian? Are the demands on my time and energy justified?

The second question needs some thought. Have I prayed sufficiently to feel that my simple thoughts could be of help to someone, and are not just another ‘opinion’? Is my writing accessible to the contemporary world and not just my own particular social circle?

The third question is easiest for me, because it is more obvious and can be worked on. As a member of the Fellowship of Christian Writers, I have seen many unintelligible manuscripts sent in by Christians who feel they have something important to say for God. Their sincerity is not in question, but until they take the trouble to learn at least the basics and presentation of writing, it is doubtful whether their thoughts will get beyond the editor’s desk. 

Christian Writing Groups

I am part of this group where people can share their writing, perhaps for the first time, sometimes with quite personal content. So it’s important that the material stays within the group. Unless someone gives overt permission to share their work, it should stay within our circle. We don’t talk about what other people are writing to anyone outside the group; privacy must be respected, if we are to develop trust in each other.

It’s also important to remember that, coming from a wide variety of Christian backgrounds and traditions, we won’t always agree with each other’s content. A writing group like ours is not intended for debate, or to try and persuade others in the group to change their opinions. It’s to help each other become better writers, and to encourage each other to keep writing. So we make sure that we do not criticise or attack each other’s beliefs, or those of any other part of the Christian family. 

Each group will, of course, develop its own guidelines and principles, but mutual trust and respect are (in my opinion) always essential. For groups with experienced, published writers, strong critique may be acceptable. But for those who are new to writing, or who only write occasionally, criticism may deter them from future writing. We find that it’s fine to query specific words or phrases, where relevant, or to give grammar and punctuation corrections for those who would like that kind of critique. We might suggest alternative styles someone might follow (a short story, perhaps, rather than a poem) or possible outlets for publication, if appropriate. We try to save any tangential discussion of the content for a refreshment break. 

Avoiding Agendas 

As followers of Christ, our primary calling is to love God and to love other people. Jesus also told us to be salt and light. Salt gives taste to bland food, and enhances flavours. But it has to be applied carefully, or it is in danger of becoming overwhelming, unpleasant, and possibly dangerous to our health. Light enables us to see, shows us the world, and helps us find what would otherwise be hidden. However, too much light can damage our eyes, or even our skin. 

Our calling as writers is to communicate in the written word. We must choose each word carefully if we want to be taken seriously. In a conversation, the other person can ask questions, argue, or demand clarification of points. Sometimes we can agree to disagree, and move on. But when someone reads an article or book, in print or online, the author has no chance to explain further what they meant. If the readers find the tone abrupt, boring or pushy, they will put the book down and choose another, or click to a different website. 

As writers we can communicate the love of God. Whether writing fiction or nonfiction, poetry or prose, we can introduce themes that are important to us, in ways that are subtle. We can use anecdotes or stories as metaphors. We can explain our personal viewpoints, briefly, if relevant to the context. But we must avoid turning every piece of writing into an attempt to convince others to agree with our beliefs. Our readers might question their assumptions, or ponder new ideas, but only if they are offered courteously.

As Madeleine L’Engle said [2], 

We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it,

________________

[1] https://bigthink.com/neuropsych/reading-fiction-empathy-better-person/
[2] https://www.azquotes.com/author/8364-Madeleine_L_Engle

Rules, Regulations, Laws and Principles

Chatting with a friend, nearly a decade ago, the topic of rules came up. She said that the one thing that made her uncomfortable with the Harry Potter books was the way that the 'good' guys seem to break rules regularly, and never suffer any kind of consequences. My comment was that this is pretty common in the British 'school story' genre in general. There's an understood difference between rules (which are fine to break, at times, so long as one is prepared for possible retribution) and general principles of loyalty and sportsmanship, which should always be adhere to.

I put this down, at first, to growing up in British culture where we see almost everything in shades of grey rather than strict black vs white or right vs wrong. In many cases, the ends justify the means, in my view. So if Harry and his friends sneak out at night under the cloak of invisibility, knowingly breaking school rules, it's fine from a moral standpoint, because they are doing it for a higher purpose: seeing a lonely friend, or rescuing a condemned animal, or finding something out that will save many lives.

I then started pondering on the differences between rules and laws. Googling the two suggests that the difference is essentially in the consequence of breaking them: lawbreakers may end up in jail, or with hefty fines. Rule-breaking is less of a problem. Other definitions are perhaps more helpful: a law is something passed by the government of a country for the protection of the people. Rules are for specific situations, more arbitrary and may much more easily be changed.

We don't always distinguish them so clearly; we talk about 'rules of the road', for instance, when we're referring to laws governing the behaviour of drivers. And yet there's a sense in which they are arbitrary. It's a convention to drive on the left (or right) of the road, to stick to specific speeds in different situations, to overtake on one side rather than the other. 

These rules are drawn up for the safety of the drivers, but on occasion it might be safer to drive over the speed limit (if a dangerously fast driver is too close on a motorway and there's no way to move), or to drive on the wrong side (if an out-of-control driver is weaving around the street where you should be, and nobody else is coming). The principles of safety and avoiding accidents are more important - at that moment - than the official rules.

And that's a third abstract term, one I referred to in the first paragraph: principles. In most cases there are no laws or rules saying that people should be kind, or loyal, or generous. We could call these things morals or ethics. They may come from Christian or other religious beliefs, or from general humanitarianism. I believe they are part of the 'law' which the apostle Paul spoke of as written on everybody's hearts (Romans 2:13-15).

I take as a starting point that there are broad 'good' principles which we are all aware of intuitively from an early age. Parents are expected to be loving, to provide for their offspring's needs, to comfort them when they are hurt. A toddler knows when something is 'unfair', or when another child is 'mean' (even if he, in his turn, is equally unfair and mean; toddlers are, after all, naturally self-centred). Jesus summed up the Jewish law in two overriding principles: love God, and love other people. 

I have written at length about how so many Christians seem to ignore these commands. I wonder if this may be due to the confusion between principles, laws and rules. Love is an overriding principle. Loving God, doing good and keeping healthy are the main reason for most of the original laws and commandments in the Hebrew Bible.

But not everybody likes following general principles. There are those who want to know exactly how far they can go before they are veering away from it. What does it mean to keep the Sabbath holy, or not to bear false witness? Thousands of tiny rules and regulations were drawn up by priests, in Old Testament times, to ensure that the Sabbath was kept holy and free of work. Jesus blew that apart: the Sabbath was supposed to be a day of rest, to remember God; not one of worrying about whether or not it was 'work' to pick a grain of corn, or heal a man's hand.

When we have small children, we have to make specific rules to keep them safe. A two-year-old might be told he must NEVER go into the street without holding an adult's hand. Do we really mean 'never'? Of course not. By the time he's five or six, he will have learned to be more careful. Perhaps, on quiet minor streets, he is permitted to cross by himself. By nine or ten, depending on his awareness, he may be free of street-crossing rules. They are there to serve a purpose, to protect the child; they may be queried at any time, and may be discussed or changed as the child matures. Rules are not absolutes, nor are they guarantees of safety.

Back to the fictional Hogwarts school situation: in any institution there must be general principles of care for others. So it makes sense to have rules about not running in busy corridors, for instance, or curfews at boarding schools, to ensure all students are safely indoors at night. In order that all students are able to study and learn as they wish, it makes sense for teachers to expect quiet conditions with students sitting in their places during lessons. Some schools allow more discussion than others; a few have the freedom to attend or not attend classes.

However, these are all rules - guidelines for behaviour, to enable everyone to learn. They are not laws; nor are they principles. The main principle at stake here is one of respect for everyone else. There are greater principles too; if somebody collapses suddenly, or has a fit, it would be entirely appropriate for a student to run as fast as possible through the corridors to fetch help, or to call out to get the teacher's attention.

Rules are not 'made to be broken', as the old saying has it; but they are subject to higher principles and guidelines. A child raised in a loving, respectful and open home will know when to query rules and when it's appropriate to put them aside. They should also start to assimilate the guiding principles of morality: it's not just against the rules to take things from Mum's purse or Dad's wallet, it's morally wrong to steal in general. 

There's a law against stealing, in almost every country, with legal consequences for those who are caught contravening the law (in some cases quite harsh). The law forbidding stealing is an example of the principles of ownership - of being entitled to one's property. However, that should balance the principle of generosity - that those who have a lot should find ways of sharing or benefiting those who have nothing. If the principle of love for other people was fully understood and observed, we wouldn't need laws (although rules, in some circumstances, would still be needed). 

On Thankfulness

I'm reading a book about thankfulness, at the moment. The author talks about how she made a decision to find 1000 gifts - or graces - for which she could be thankful. Not, she hastens to assure the readers, in a 'Pollyanna' way, but truly honouring God for what he gives us daily, weekly, or just occasionally.

I decided to start writing a list myself. On the first day I easily came up with about sixty items - mostly people - for which I am thankful, without much thought. I listed many family and friends, and other individuals who have been instrumental in my learning and growing over the years. I listed other random things as they occurred to me: chocolate, books, beanbags, coffee, our new bathroom. There is much which I take for granted, but in global terms I am wealthy and have a great deal more than most.

On the second day, I slowed a little, jotting down names of authors who have inspired or encouraged me, abstract concepts such as laughter and love, small pleasures such as walking along a nature trail, playing with my grandson, stroking a cat. I thought of scents and sounds, of the evidence of God in all creation.

On the third day, it felt harder; I started listing individual fruits and vegetables for which I'm thankful, board games I like to play, books I have enjoyed reading. I didn't remember everything I had listed on the first day, and it started to feel like a chore.

On the fourth day, I didn't write anything down, but I thought of some of the things I had previously listed; even if I never come up with more than 180 'things' it's a lot to be thankful for. And I found that, starting the day by being thankful, I continued the day feeling grateful for those around me, for my health, for the comfort of my home. When I am deliberately being thankful, it's much harder to feel anxious or irritable or frustrated.

The Bible is full of exhortations to be thankful. Here's a list of Bible verses about thankfulness; skimming down, some aren't directly about thanks, but it's simpler to refer to this than come up with my own. Paul gave thanks even when in prison, and started all his letters by thanking God for those he was writing to, for gifts he had been given, for the responsibility he had to spread the good news.

We Christians should be known for our love, but also for being thankful people, acknowledging God in all we are, all we have, and all he has given us. I know there will be occasions in future when I won't feel at all thankful, but that's all the more reason to get into the habit of gratefulness now, when there is so much to be thankful for.

You are what you read?

I was tagged on Facebook by a friend who had listed ten books that 'stayed' with her. The challenge was not to think hard or come up with great literature, but to list, off the top of my head, ten books that had affected me in some way.

Ten.

Only ten books!

We own about three thousand, and while I freely admit that I am unlikely to read some of them again (and at least a few hundred are thrillers which I don't suppose I'll ever read) I feel most comfortable when I am in a house with plenty of books. When I know I will never run out of things to read. I keep a couple of hundred unread books on my Kindle, too, just in case.

I think, if I absolutely had to, I could reduce my books to around one thousand, so long as I knew that the rest were going to good homes. But even that would be difficult. So many good books, so many wonderful authors. Even if I don't re-read a book in its entirety, I may well dip into it again.

But it was a challenge I could not resist. I certainly wasn't going to write about the first ten books that came into my head; I wanted to make sure they really had influenced or affected me in some way - that they had genuinely 'stayed' with me over the years.  So I started jotting down a few titles...

Taking my cue from the old 'Desert Island Discs' radio show, I decided to assume that the Bible and the entire works of Shakespeare can automatically be included, so I wasn't going to list either as part of my ten. The Bible has affected me more than any other book; or, rather, collection of books - it's kept one volume, usually, but is 66 books in all. Some of them are very short, and some have influenced me a lot more than others. John's gospel and letters are probably the ones I would choose if I had to pick just a few.

As for Shakespeare, I'm not an unqualified out-and-out fan, but several of his plays have stuck in my mind and I love watching them; Shakespeare coined so many phrases that we're all affected by him regularly.

I thought more about the insistence that I should choose books should have STAYED with me. I decided that, for that to be the case, they must be books which I first read at least 20 years ago. So that excludes Philip Yancey's 'What's so Amazing about Grace?' (and all else he's written), JK Rowling's Harry Potter series,  Susan Howatch's 'Glittering Images' (and sequels), plus Wayne Jacobsen and Brian McLaren's books - all of which will undoubtedly stay with me and be re-read in the future. These books have affected my philosophy and worldview within the past twenty years and I'd recommend them to anyone. I make no apology for the Christian themes (overt or otherwise) for all the above. (Links are to my book reviews blog).

When I started thinking about books that had influenced me profoundly, I really wanted to include the original 'Good Housekeeping' cookery book, which we were given as a wedding present and which I still refer to, even though it's falling to pieces (and even though I have an updated modern version - which is still good, but completely different). But something had to go, so I decided to limit my list to fiction, if I was to have any hope at all of choosing just ten.

Below is the list I posted, in roughly the order in which I first read them. I decided to see which of them I had read in the past 16 years and thus reviewed on my book blog, and was a little surprised to find eight of them - some of them I read more than once, even in this timeframe. I think that underlines just how much these books have, indeed, stayed with me. As for the remaining two, one is too short for a book review on my blog, and one of them is long out of print and unavailable.

1. The Enchanted Wood by Enid Blyton - this is the earliest book I can recall reading, when I was about five or six. I was - well - enchanted by it and its sequels, and re-read them many times. This book introduced me to fairies and fairy-tales, dreams and wishes, and the concept of good triumphing over evil. (They're not at all politically correct, but I didn't notice until I read them aloud to my sons many years later).

2. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis - I suppose I was about six or seven when I first read this. Maybe younger - it's a book that's always been on my shelves, along with its sequels. I do know that the first time I read it, I took it all at face value as a wonderful adventure story. A couple of years later I read the whole series again and had an amazing 'aha!' moment as I realised that it was all connected with God. I'm so glad I discovered that for myself, and that nobody tried to explain the allegories to me.

3. Margaret and the Currant Bunny by Edith Elias - I read this book almost every summer from the time I was about seven; it was on the shelves in my bedroom at my grandparents' house; an old book, even in the 1960s. It sent shivers up my spine but I couldn't resist it. I wish I knew what had happened to it - it's apparently impossible to find a copy of it now. Maybe I would hate it as an adult. But I've never forgotten it.

4. The School at the Chalet by Elinor M Brent-Dyer - This is another book which I initially discovered at my grandparents' home, along with about fifteen of the sequels. I was perhaps eight or nine when I started reading these; I already loved Enid Blyton's Mallory Towers books, but there was so much more depth in the Chalet School series. I was thrilled to find the entire series (over 50 books!) in the library at my secondary school. The first book isn't my favourite by a long way; it's a bit slow-moving and I'd recommend new readers to start with the second. But it was my entry into the wonderful world of thinking, discussing, interesting education. The books also reinforced the importance of honesty and authenticity, and close families; it also helped me understand good sportsmanship. I wanted to be Joey Maynard when I grew up.

5. Gemma by Noel Streatfeild. I'd read 'Ballet Shoes', of course, and various others by this author, but I think I was about ten before I came across 'Gemma' and its three sequels, and was totally captivated. Wonderful family stories, even if they do include the typecast highly gifted children!

6. Mystery at Witchend by Malcolm Saville. Again, the first of a series and not my favourite of the 20 'Lone Pine' books; but it was the introduction to yet another world of friendship mixed with loyalty and love.

7. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte - We had to read the first two or three chapters of this for English homework one weekend when I was around 14. I started reading.. and couldn't put it down. I emerged, starry-eyed, when it was time for lunch and kept reading afterwards. I asked for a copy of my own for Christmas and re-read it many times. It was my favourite book for years.

8. An Old-fashioned girl by Louisa M Alcott - I'd read the 'Little Women' books, but came across this lesser-known teenage novel by the same author when I was about fifteen. I fell in love with it and have read it many times.

9. The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, age 37 3/4 by Adrian Plass - I first read this shortly after it was published in 1987, and it was the first book ever to make me laugh out loud on almost every page. It pokes gentle satirical fun at the silliness of some (all right, a lot of) Christians, and yet is incredibly thought-provoking at the same time. I became an instant Plass fan, and have read all his other books, but the first one (which STILL makes me chuckle when I re-read it) has a special place in my heart.

10. Dogger by Shirley Hughes. I first came across this when a friend's small daughter borrowed it from school - so although it's a children's picture book, I didn't actually read it until around 1990. She read half of it to me, and I read the rest to myself later; it was so lovely, it brought tears to my eyes. I bought it for my sons, and read it to them - difficult without choking up - and gradually they grew out of it. But it's one of the picture book I've kept, and when I got it out to read to small friends in the past few years, it made me cry all over again. I love all Shirley Hughes' books, but 'Dogger' is, I think, my all-time favourite picture book.

So - that's ten books, all of which influenced me in some way, all of which have reinforced positive character traits and the importance of family and friends. I think that's probably why they stood out in my mind; a couple of hours after writing the Facebook update, I think these are still the ten I would choose.

As I was writing my list, I did remember many other books that have been important to me over the years. As a child, I loved the Paddington series by Michael Bond, AA Milne's Winnie-the-Pooh, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham, books by E Nesbit, Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery, and many more. In more recent years I've discovered and enjoyed the 'Sophie' series by Dick King-Smith, and the series starting with 'Saffy's Angel' by Hilary McKay. And I suppose if I want to be literal about a book staying with me, I should also mention 'I had trouble in getting to Solla Sollew' by Dr Seuss, which I used to read nightly to my sister, and can still recite, pretty much, from memory.

But while I read and enjoyed all those books, and others, I don't think they affected me on a deep level as the ones on my list did. Having said that, I should give a special mention to 'Treasures of the Snow' by Patricia M St John; I first read that when I was about six and it had a profound influence on my life and my early Christian faith. It certainly affected me as a child, in a far-reaching way; but I haven't read it in a long time, and didn't think of it until I'd finished my list. Perhaps I should re-read it soon.

As a young adult, I enjoyed books by Georgette Heyer, and PG Wodehouse, and Rosamunde Pilcher; these were my stepping stones from children's fiction into books intended for adults, so they are significant in that respect; I've discovered many great authors in the past thirty years or so. But I haven't been influenced by fiction as an adult nearly as much as I was as a child. But then, my core values and beliefs were mostly formed by the time I was in my twenties.

Attributes of God and the Enneagram

Much of what I have been reading recently has reminded me that EVERYTHING that is good and true is of God. That includes theories, books, songs, art (etc) which are created or invented by atheists or those of other faiths. God made us all, and gave us different talents and abilities, and there is something of God in everyone, whether or not they acknowledge it.

(There is a corollary to this, concerning that which is not good or true, even if created by devout Christian believers... but I am not going there. Not today, anyway)

The Enneagram is a system of understanding people's personalities at a deep level, with patterns of growth for each of them. It's used by some in the Catholic Church, and has significant spiritual insights. Unsurprisingly it also has its critics, mostly those who dislike the fact that it's used in Sufi tradition, and may have some Pagan origins. The symbol itself tends to look a bit suspect at first glance, but an Ennegram is simply a nine-pointed star, and is used as a visual representation of the nine main groups of people as described by the Enneagram.

I don't enquire as to the belief system of those who built my computer, or my kitchen appliances; I don't reject chairs and tables because they undoubtedly had some of their origins and development amongst Pagan cultures. If something is good and right, then it is, at least to some extent, of God.

I've read several books about the Enneagram, some of them specifically from a Christian perspective. It's not as simple to grasp as the more popular Myers-Briggs system, as there are no dichotomies; to make it more complicated, the root of each Enneagram type is our deepest besetting sin, and many of us really don't want to acknowledge what's at our roots. So we learn to behave like other people, and often relate strongly to another type until we are honest enough with ourselves to peel away the outer layers and look at what's in our hearts.

Online tests are notoriously inaccurate in their results; there are many which attempt to pinpoint Enneagram types, but I think probably the least bad is the Eclectic Energies test. Unfortunately, I don't really like the rest of that site, or the descriptions. But if you find your most likely type (or types), then the 9 Types site has a pretty good set of descriptions of each of them, although inevitably nobody will fit 100% with any, and many will relate to three or four of them, at least to some extent.

I can still relate quite strongly to five out of the nine types, even though I'm certain now, after many years of study and discussion, that my actual type is the Nine.

All of which is introductory to something I read recently in the book 'Enneagram II' by Richard Rohr. He mentions that we don't just have a self-image and besetting sin that fits with our type, but we also tend to have specific views of God that tie in with our Enneagram types. And while each of them has some truth, they are very limiting, and can lead to a false view of who God is.

That led me to think in a new way about the different names and attributes of God which are sometimes mentioned in hymns, songs and prayers. Sometimes these pass me by - I know intellectually that they are all true, but I mentally shrug.. to me, God is always present, always loving - which is true. But not the whole truth, apparently. It was quite chastening to read that the false image of God for type Nines is: "...a quiet, constant, unquestioned Presence...".  

I wanted to insist that this was true, and far more significant than the God-image for the other types... and yet it began to make sense as I read on, with the recommendation to believe in a more active God who might ask me to do something, might want me to experience great joy, or even righteous anger. 

So now, when people - or songs - mention different names or attributes of God, I'm mentally assigning them to one or more of the nine Enneagram types. And suddenly I can see the value of these different aspects of God.

As a very brief summary of positive traits and images:

• Type One is the perfectionist, always wanting to do what's right in everyone's eyes. Ones will tend to relate primarily to God as the Judge, as all-seeing and holy. 

• Type Two is the Helper, meeting people's needs, usually generous and warm-hearted. Twos will tend to relate primarily to God as Love, as the one who provides for us. 

• Type Three is the Achiever, full of energy and self-confidence, determined to get things done. Threes will tend to relate primarily to God as Creator, who gets things done.

• Type Four is the Romantic, the classic artistic temperament, able to see and create great beauty in life. Fours will tend to relate primarily to God as Artist, and reach out to him in darkness. 

• Type Five is the Observer, the detached and usually intelligent researcher. Fives tend to relate primarily to God as the 'Logos', the all-knowing supreme intelligence.

• Type Six is the Questioner, who is totally loyal and committed, concerned about many things. Sixes tend to relate primarily to God as Refuge or Rock, as the one who offers security and salvation.

• Type Seven is the Adventurer, full of energy and optimism, often a risk-taker. Sevens will tend to relate primarily to God as Light and Life, as the giver of joy. 

• Type Eight is the Asserter, who stands up for the weak, and leads with courage. Eights will tend to relate primarily to God as King, as all-powerful and mighty.

• Type Nine is the Peacemaker, who seeks harmony and sees all points of view. Nines will tend to relate primarily to God as omnipresent, showing mercy and giving peace. 

Caricatures, undoubtedly. The Enneagram is so much more, and can't be summarised properly, even in a much longer article, as it has immense depth.

But still. It made me ponder. 

Paths and Fields

I'm not the kind of person to learn things step by step. I tend, on the whole, to observe, ponder, read, ponder some more and gradually assimilate understanding. Sometimes a paragraph in a book, or something I notice will trigger an 'aha!' moment - a light in my brain which illuminates something I had not quite grasped before, or maybe a trigger which enable everything to move around a little, fitting into a better place. Either way, it's not a linear or arithmetical process.

Right now, my mind is swirling with the concept of paths, of many different paths leading towards - or, indeed away from - God. That doesn't mean I've become a relativist, or that I think all religions are equally valid. I believe, absolutely, in the one God, Creator of the universe, as revealed in the Bible and through Jesus. Indeed, I can say with confidence the full Nicene Creed, something which is recited in one form or another in the Anglican Church in which I grew up, and to which I still feel significant affiliation.

I also believe that every human being is a unique individual: a complexity of ingrained God-given personality, of circumstances, of culture, and so on. Which means that each of us is on an individual path through life, at different stages, and often going (or apparently so) in different directions. I am aware that there are those who deliberately turn their backs on God and walk away, knowing perfectly well what they are doing. I don't know what will happen to a person in this deliberately antagonistic state if they die unredeemed. I can't bring myself to believe in the kind of 'hell' popularised by Dante; I'm more inclined to CS Lewis's view that even after death there may be the opportunity to turn to God, but that those who rejected God in life will probably continue to do so forever.

Sadly, there are many who have turned their back on God without really understanding what they are doing. Perhaps they misheard or misunderstood the message. Perhaps their childhood was so fraught with tragedy or abuse that they cannot accept a loving God reaching out to them. Perhaps they have been put off by the rigidity of some Christians who claim that there is only one possible path to God, and that anyone who doesn't join that one path is doomed to eternal punishment.

Or perhaps they see Christians being intolerant, selfish, gluttonous, self-righteous... all those sins which were condemned in the Bible every bit as much as the more obvious carnal sins, but which are a lot more difficult to measure.

I don't know what will happen to people like these when they come face to face with Jesus. But I know that God is love. It's not for me to judge, either those on the path away or those (including myself) who may have contributed to the direction in which they are going. My task is to share what I know of God who loves us all.

But what of those who are aware of God's love, whether or not they realise who God is? What of the many and diverse styles and doctrines and cultures even amongst those of us who attempt to follow Jesus? Should we who are within the Body of Christ attempt to tell our brothers and sisters in Christ how we see things, what we believe they should and should not be doing? What happens two people who love God, and can genuinely recite the Nicene Creed, have diverse views about - for instance - whether or not women should be allowed to be church leaders, or how long it took God to create the world, or how parents should raise and educate their children?

I wrote recently about the importance of acceptance, of what we see as 'normal'. We change through our lives, and most of us accept that others change too. We don't expect a great work of art from a two-year-old experimenting with crayons, or a best-selling novel from a six-year-old typing a story onto a computer. But we do expect progress.

Sometimes, though, we have to go backwards before we can move on. If I type quite fast with two fingers but want to learn to touch type, I will have to slow my pace quite significantly before I can learn a new method. If I want to revitalise a garden which has been neglected over many years, I may have to pull up many of the plants that are growing there, to get rid of some of the used soil, to fertilise and remove stones, and leave the ground fallow for a while before I can start growing new plants. When we make bread, we let it rise... then punch the dough down, apparently undoing all the good that the yeast has done, before kneading some more and letting it rise again.

In addition, not everybody has a passion for gardening, or typing, or drawing, or bread-making. We have different talents, different 'callings', different ways of relating to the world in which our primary concerns are to love God and to love other people. So I may demonstrate God's glory by my artwork, and bake bread for my neighbours; you might worship God through music, and babysit for your friends and acquaintances.

Books about personality types stress that there are four (or nine - or sixteen - or whatever the system happens to be) broad categories of people, ALL of whom are valuable. We can all learn in different ways, but one style will come most naturally to each of us. We all have a variety of talents, but only one or two are likely to become our passions. We all make mistakes, miss opportunities, think negative things... but we each have one deep-rooted sinful tendency, which we may not even recognise. We can criticise each other, ignoring our own problems, or we can acknowledge our inherent sinfulness and reach out to others, and to God, in love.

So there are many paths, many ways we can move towards God during our lifetimes. I'm seeing the concept of 'different paths' in many places, with the kind of synchronicity which nudges me, prompting me to be increasingly sure that this is from God. I see it in the local church: your current path might be Anglo-Catholic, his path Greek Orthodox, her path evangelical charismatic. If it's where God has called each person, then that is the right place, at that time, for that person. If God is currently calling someone out of a local congregation, then that is a right path too. Nobody has full access to the truth about God or about worship; we are, as one speaker put it, tiny parts of a stained glass window which, as a whole, reflects a fragment of God's glory.

A few years ago, talking with friends about God's plans and purposes, we realised that it's important not to take the concept of a path too strictly. God does not control us like puppets on a string; we make our own choices in life, and that's part of maturing. As parents encourage their children to spread their wings, to follow their own dreams, to make their own decisions - even if they turn out to be bad decisions - so God gives us our senses, our intelligence and our experience to help us to grow.

So while there is a path each of us, albeit meandering, ahead of us is something more akin to a field. It has boundaries over which we should not stray, but within that field we can go in any direction we like. Sometimes Christians get very stressed about guidance: offered two jobs, which one does God wants us to take? Which car does God want us to buy? Which supermarket does God want us to shop in....?

Undoubtedly God cares about every detail of our lives, and it's fine to pray, to consult God about anything, no matter how trivial. But having done so, if there is no sense of guidance, and no clear Biblical reason not to do something, then I believe that it's fine to take whatever option appeals.

Even if our choice turns out to be a mistake, God does not become angry. We may have to deal with negative consequences - if a car turns out to have multiple problems, for instance, or if we find personality clashes in a new job - but that does not mean that our decision was 'wrong', or even that a different one would have been 'right'. Nor does it mean that we are abandoned. God works with us where we are, as a parent picks up a toddler who falls over, and reaches out a hand to help a child who stumbles.

Even if we go against what God told us, our heavenly Father will never leave us. If a child in a field wants to pick blackberries, the parent might warn him to be careful about the nearby nettles. That will not stop a careless (or curious) child from walking into the nettle patch, and then suffering the consequence of being badly stung. No loving parent stands with arms folded saying, 'Well, that happened because you disobeyed. If you want me to help you, you have to do what I tell you to do.' A good parent rushes to rescue the child, probably risking being stung too, and looks for dock leaves or something else that will ease the child's discomfort, offering hugs and reassurance. The child does not need to be told that he did something stupid: he knows that perfectly well.

It saddens me when I meet people who seem to be hemmed in by fear, convinced that if they step aside from a narrow path, they will - like Little Red Riding Hood - be eaten by a hungry wolf. Yes, Jesus talks about a narrow gate - see Matthew 7:13. Elsewhere, Jesus talks about himself as a door or gate - see John 10:9. I saw a dramatised explanation of this in a children's assembly many years ago, when an elderly clergyman formed several children into a fence with a gap, allowing other children (representing sheep) to go in and out. At night, we were told, it was dangerous for sheep to be out of their pen so in New Testament times a shepherd herded his sheep into their pens, then lay down to block the gap.

The gap was narrow, and anywhere other than the pen could indeed lead to destruction. But the sheep did not have to worry about anything other than going where their shepherd led them. Once in the pen - through the 'gate' - they were free to wander where they wished, to eat whatever looked appetising.

Jesus is the only 'gate', and we need to walk with him, in the place where he wants us to be. But as in a nurturing family, there are many options every day, and Jesus - in the same passage as the one about being the gate - promised us life in abundance, in stark contrast to the thief who wants to steal and destroy.

Of the Church, but not in the Church...?

For the first forty-five years of my life I went to a church service every Sunday without really questioning it. Sometimes I went to two services. Okay, so there were odd occasions when it wasn't possible: if I were sick, for instance, or if we were travelling on a Sunday. But basically if we moved, or even went away on holiday, the question was not, 'Shall we go to church on Sunday?' but 'Which church shall we go to?'

I suppose at some point during my childhood I realised that not everybody belonged to a church, but I don't recall what I thought about it. Church - or, more importantly God - was part of my life. I knew that each local expression of church was part of the worldwide Body of Christ - or the Church Universal - and on the whole I quite liked it. Even if I did sometimes find it all a bit pointless. Not God, but the church service bit.

Then 2006 rolled around. Lots of people around the world, it seemed, were starting to question the validity of local church congregations. Or, at least, questioning their necessity. I wrote a post about this - What is Church anyway? - after we had been reading on the topic and discussing it with friends. My husband had moved from the church we had been attending for some years (for a variety of reasons) and at the time was attending a more charismatic one. I wasn't comfortable with it, and didn't want to give up the place where I felt at home. One of our sons had left home by then, the other attended the local Anglican congregation. So three of us attended three different services on a Sunday.

It didn't seem like a problem. Sometimes my husband didn't go at all - he worked far too many hours during the week, in a Christian organisation, and needed to sleep on Sundays. Church services did not recharge or energise him; they made him feel as if Sunday mornings were the lowest spot of the week. Eventually he decided not to go at all (other than a few special services), due to some specific doctrinal issues where he disagreed, and which were considered essential for membership. He wanted to stay in fellowship - and friendship - with the leaders, and was concerned that if he stayed, listening to talks which he disagreed with (if he didn't fall asleep) then he might end up with conflict.

I totally understood. We both have the "NF" (Idealist) temperament, so harmony in relationships is essential to us. Friendship is - and always will be - far more important than doctrinal agreement.  I've written about this before - about Church and temperament, and about how neither of us is anti-church. And gradually, I also stopped going to services every Sunday.

However, I didn't want to give up entirely. I do quite like having a focus on Sunday mornings, at least some of the time. I quite like a lot of hymns and Christian songs, and I like keeping in touch with people I care about. For a while I would go perhaps once a month to the local Anglican church, and once a month to the local non-denominational community church - the one we belonged to for many years when we first moved here. At least, once a month was my aim. Sometimes other things got in the way, and during the Summer it was simply too hot for me to walk home in the heat of the Cyprus sun. I tried it once, I think in mid-June, and spent the rest of the day - and the following day - debilitated by migraine.

And so, I started this post some months ago, thinking about the phrase Christians often quote, that we should be 'in the world but not of the world'. I've heard talks on this, mostly stating the obvious: we are not to avoid people or situations outside Christian circles - we may have 'secular' jobs, or neighbours, or even family. We are part of the environment and society around us, and yet at the same time we have another 'world', that of God's Kingdom.

The actual words are not stated in the Bible exactly like that: they are paraphrased, or perhaps summed up from John 15: 19  where Jesus said that he had chosen the disciples 'out of the world'. By implication, Christians have generally seen this as applying to the entire Body of Christ. The idea of being 'worldly' had implications of materialism, or loving the world more than God, caring too much about the approval of other people.

However, the phrase is regularly used, and I started thinking about the worldwide church, which I am a part of. And it struck me that I could reverse the phrase: to be 'of the church, but not in the church'. I feel that a local body of believers should be able to embrace those who are undoubtedly part of God's kingdom, even if they do not attend Sunday morning services.

But life  - to use another oft-stated Christian cliché - has its seasons. I'm seeing these increasingly as referring to repeating cycles, like the traditional seasons of the year.  I would prefer another word for longer-term roles: we don't have a 'season' of childhood or hands-on motherhood - those are periods of life with a beginning and an end. However, we do, perhaps, have seasons when we love to gather on Sunday mornings, and seasons when we really don't.

I've just started reading a book by Brian McLaren called Naked Spirituality: A Life with God in Twelve Simple Words, which talks about seasons in the Christian life where things seem simple, complex, confusing, or in harmony. I haven't read very far yet, but it makes a lot of sense. As we progress through life, and faith, some things seem very straightforward at first, then as we learn more, we realised they are extremely complex. We start to grapple, perhaps, with contradictions, or confusions; we discover that different people have radically different answers to questions - it's all quite perplexing. And gradually we find a sense of harmony, of peace, as we come to terms with it.

It was useful to see this in terms of local church commitment. It was so easy as a child, then it became more complicated as I realised how many different styles of church service there were. I became perplexed - should we stay with this one, or move to that one? We made the decision eventually, and peace reigned for a while. Life was simple again, until further complexities arose....

And so the seasons come around, varying in lengths and intensities. I've been perplexed about the whole question of church attendance for some years now, never giving up entirely but unwilling to commit to any of the local congregations fully. I am still very dubious about the idea of official 'membership', which implies a rejection of other local expressions of God's Kingdom on earth. But I can see myself gradually being drawn back to the congregation I was once a regular part of: most of the people have changed, the style has become more lively, more charismatic. It's hard for me to worship God through song - Gifts of Affirmation are not one of my love languages, But perhaps there's something important for me to learn.

I don't think I will ever enjoy sermons, or understand why they are necessary; they rarely say anything much, and I often find my mind drifting away, even though I don't actually fall asleep. But many in the church consider them important, even the focus of the meeting. They are unlikely to go away, but at least they are briefer than they used to be. And less noisy. When a preacher shouts, I switch off entirely and feel very stressed. But when they talk about God's love, with perhaps an anecdote or story, that's okay. I guess someone in the congregation needs to hear that message on that particular day.

I've heard from time to time that for each person God will have a 'gem', or perhaps a 'golden thread' in each service - the line of a song to give us goose pimples, or an encouragement from the front, or even something new to think about. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I always find it - or even that I mostly find one. But if I decide to attend church services regularly again - whether every week or every other week - I shall make the effort to watch out for the golden thread.

Far from being anti-church...

It saddens me, sometimes, when people I like and respect seem to write me - and thousands of others - off as being 'anti-church'. The reason for this epithet is that there's quite a growing movement of Christian believers around the world who do not attend Sunday morning gatherings (or 'services') every week.

I am, currently, one of this number.

To be sure, some of these folk have been badly damaged by organised 'church' hierarchies and rules, and can be quite vehement in their eloquence. Others have eased out more gently, finding that these gatherings do nothing positive for them, and that there is no role for them to have. Others have been turned off by angry sermons or off-key worship leaders or perhaps just by boredom. Not with Jesus - nobody could be bored with Jesus - but by the same-old-same-old style of getting together, week after week.

I read an excellent article just a few days ago: Maybe we should stop encouraging people to get out of their comfort zones. An introvert myself, I found myself nodding after almost every sentence. Church services - even quiet, reflective ones - are by nature extraverted. They involve other people, they require going somewhere other than one's home. They are often quite noisy, and although they are usually full of lovely folk, they are not energising or helpful for most Introverts.

This is not to say that Introverts should always avoid church services. I was a regular attender (at least once a week, sometimes twice) at various congregations over the first forty-five or so years of my life. I still enjoy visiting our UK church when we're in the neighbourhood. And, other than during the summer, I try to get to local services here in Cyprus a couple of times per month. I don't even try during the summer since I know that walking home in the late morning sunshine will guarantee me a migraine for the next two days. And a break can be constructive.

But I am far from anti-church.

Of course it's not just Introverts who find the whole church service thing quite stressful. Churches by their nature tend to be quite sensory - music, talks, banners, hugs... all very well in their place, and nobody likes hugs more than I do, from people I care about. But so much sensory input with little time for reflection and pondering can be draining too, for many of us with iNtuiting preferences. People who are not auditory learners can switch off during talks. Those who are tone deaf or sensitive to noise can find singing and instruments to be painfully loud.

And the less said about most church chairs, the better.

Yet there are times when I would love to feel that I 'belong' once more to a local body of believers.  So, when the weather is cool, I tend to walk to a church service at least a couple of times per month. Sometimes I pray that God will let me know clearly if I should commit to this particular group. I am totally willing to do. Yet, so far, every time I have specifically asked, there has been something equally specific which communicated a resounding 'No' - or at least 'Not now'.

We have our small circles, of course; people in our community with whom we share meals, and discuss issues, and help each other out.  And we are, by default, part of the Body of Christ in our town: the local part of the universal Church consisting of all believers. I'm on the email prayer chain for one local church, and run the website for a different one. We have friends in all four of the local English-speaking congregations. We also have several Christian friends who do not attend church services at all - or more rarely than I do.

What puzzles me is why so many Christians have elevated the Sunday morning gatherings so highly, when the Christian life is clearly so much more than a Sunday morning meeting. Why is listening to a sermon considered more valuable than reading a book? Why is prayer in a group considered more significant than praying on one's own? What is it about singing that evidently draws some people closer to God, yet pushes others away?

Some congregations, to be sure, include many other factors in their meetings. There might be visual displays, quizzes, dance, drama, painting. And let's not forget the all-important coffee-and-biscuits afterwards.

It's all cool. It's all part of life, and the Christian life in particular. There's a time and a place for all those things and more.

But why, when people decide for a season - or a few years, or even a decade or two - that they can worship God more effectively and openly away from a structured (or even unstructured) group meeting, are they considered heretics?


And perhaps the most puzzling question is:

Why do those who love church services seem to feel threatened by those who do not...? 

Being a Blessing

I'm currently reading 'The Story we Find Ourselves in' by the somewhat controversial Brian McLaren. It's written in a style that the author calls 'creative non-fiction', but I prefer to think of it as 'intelligent fiction with a message.' I'm only a third of the way through, very much enjoying the dialogue between the Jamaican radical Christian known as Neo, the ex-charismatic agnostic Kelly, and the cheerful atheist Glenn. What all three have in common is that they have PhDs in sciences.

The style of dialogue in the book is discussion, questioning, and the gradual unfolding of the overall 'story' of Scripture, which is how Neo claims that it would originally have been understood by the story-telling Jewish culture in which it was written. It's all thought-provoking, and the fictional style makes it entirely possible to agree strongly with some points that are made, while being unsure about - or even disagreeing with - others.

Today I was struck powerfully by some comments about Genesis 12:2-3. God chose Abraham, who is in a sense the patriarch of all the three main monotheistic religions of today.  He chose him not because there was anything special about Abraham, and not for the sake of granting him 'eternal life' - something which would not really have been an issue in the culture of the day.  He chose Abraham 'to be a blessing'. In some translations it's even more direct - God tells Abraham that he must be a blessing. The command is not just to bless his own family, but so that 'all the families on earth' would be blessed.  Another word for 'families' is 'nations' - the two modern English words were covered by the same concept at the time.

Fast forward a few thousand years, and Jesus said something similar, when asked by his disciples what the greatest commandment was, in Matthew 22:34-40. Love God, and love our neighbours, Jesus said. Every other command, rule or requirement is subsidiary to those two principles. I wrote at length about what is meant by love in another post, but a further thought emerges: we are in a relationship with Jesus  primarily in order that we can show God's love to other people. Not his anger, or his judgement, but his love.

Something else Jesus said, in John 15:16-17 also makes a lot more sense in this context. Some Christians understand the words 'You did not choose me, but I chose you...' to imply that we have no choice in our salvation; that some people are 'chosen', and some are not. But that's not what Jesus says. The rest of that short passage tells his listeners - and by implication all his followers through the ages - why they were chosen: 'to bear fruit' and 'to love one another'.

God is our Creator. He made the world and the first people so that they could continue the creative pattern he programmed into them.  Apple trees bear apples, cats bear kittens, humans bear babies. And when we are chosen and thus given 'blessings' by God, we are to bless other people, introducing them to God's love, bringing them also into his kingdom.

What does 'blessing' mean? 

Blessing is rather an old-fashioned word, one which sounds vaguely to me like a benevolent old man laying his hand on his grandchildren's heads, as a gesture of good will and approval. It's also used as a Christian jargon word to mean gifts from God - maybe a cheque in the post, a promotion at work, an unexpected meeting with a friend. We might use it in more general terms too, to refer to good health, warm homes, happy families. Unfortunately, as with so much modern Christian jargon, the original meaning can get lost in our 21st century western context.

In Brian McLaren's book referred to above, there's some discussion about what 'being a blessing'  meant in the phrase given Abraham. Eventually the participants agree that it means 'to try to help, to bring resources, to encourage, to believe in, to support, to affirm, to have a high opinion of.' In summary, Neo suggests, it means 'to express love and support'. He points out that despite it being an age of kingdoms and battles, God does NOT tell Abraham to go out and conquer all the surrounding regions, nor does he tell him to force people to follow his commandments.

There was a comment after my post about love, mentioning a quotation attributed to Billy Graham: 'It's God's job to judge, the Holy Spirit's job to convict and our job to love'. I would suggest that God's 'job' primarily is to love too; it saddens me deeply when some people seem to see God as someone rubbing his hands, hoping to condemn sinners to eternal torment. However, the point of that quotation is that ONLY God is able to judge other people. So, it seems to me that our role is primarily to reflect his love outwardly, and 'bless' all those with whom we come into contact.

How we actually do that in practice will depend on our personalities, our circumstances and our abilities.

Love is....

I grew up Anglican. Every week, we heard or recited something along the lines of:

'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like, namely this: you shall love your neighbour as yourself.'  

Perhaps there were a few more thees and loveths (this was prior to the modernisation of the liturgy) but that's the gist of it. It wasn't until I was in my teens that I realised that these weren't just Anglican principles, but words spoken by Jesus. In the various Bible studies I attended, at school or elsewhere, we spent a lot of time trying to discuss what exactly was meant by loving God. It's something that, as far as I can tell many years later, takes a lifetime and more to learn. We get it wrong all the time, but since God loves us perfectly, He keeps on forgiving.

But then there's that second commandment, too. We are called to love other people. All people. Not just our friends, not just our fellow believers, not just those who think like we do or behave in ways that seem appropriate to us - but everyone. I know it, of course. I've always known it. I don't think I'm prejudiced or biased; I'm happy to have grown up in a fairly multi-cultural community and mixed with quite a variety of people. I believe that every person has equal value before God, no matter what their race, income, abilities or behaviour. I really do.

However, we can't be emotionally involved with every person we meet, let alone those we will never meet. Nor can we even feel warmly towards everybody all the time. But love is defined in many ways in the Bible: the well-known passage in 1 Corinthians 13 gives some ideals. Love is patient and kind. Love does not bear grudges, does not envy, does not boast, is not proud. And so on. Naturally we don't  reach these ideals, but if we're going to show love then this passage is a good starting point.

I've been coming across blog posts and news articles about people in the US and elsewhere who seem (from my perspective) not to have grasped these concepts. Protesting abortion clinics, shouting down gay pride marches, trying to campaign against health care for everyone. There was an article going around Facebook recently, about some Christians in Chicago at a gay pride march. They apologised publicly for the hatred and bigotry that stems from some right-wing American church groups, and hugged some of the marchers. Apparently this happened a couple of years ago - it's been reported in several places, and has attracted widespread commenting, both positive and negative.

I hope that, had I been in Chicago at the time, I would have stood with those who were offering compassion in this way. Thankfully I have not personally come across outright hatred and bigotry of the sort that I sometimes read about. Perhaps it's one advantage of being British, seeing almost everything in shades of grey, rather than extremes. A bit like the infamous British weather.

But my gut feeling is that Jesus, were he still a man on earth, would similarly have reached out in love to those whom society (or parts of the church, at any rate) condemns. In 1st century Galilee, he was criticised for mixing with tax collectors and sinners. Of eating and drinking with the despised in society.  Jesus reserved his anger and judgement not for those who sinned (that would be all of us...) but for the religious leaders who invented rules and regulations that quite missed the point of loving God.

I wonder how the parable of the sheep and the goats would sound in the 21st century. I started re-writing it with modern situations, and then realised that I would be showing my own personal biases - for we all have them, one way or another - and that I was making negative judgements which were no better (indeed, perhaps worse) than those who come across as bigoted or angry in high-profile situations.

I guess I'm not a fast learner. It's only now that I'm beginning to grasp hold fully of the idea that my responsibility is to love God, and love other people. And that, basically, is it. I show love for God - insofar as I can - by doing what he asks of me. By being honest, and courteous; by generosity, or kindness, or fairness. God has told us plenty of things in the Bible, and I  believe He also guides us in daily life, if we listen. We fail all the time, but He holds out His hand, and picks us up, and we move forward.

But my responsibility in these matters is for me.  Not for anybody else. That's not being individualistic, I hope. I recognise my part as a tiny little piece of the widespread Body of Christ, of course. But I can only be effective if I do what God wants me to do - whether in general or specific terms. It's no good wanting someone else's role - nor hoping that others will take on mine. God is the Master Designer, and it's only by each of us focussing on Him that the Body of Christ can truly function as it should.

However... it is NOT my responsibility to take care of anyone else's behaviour.

Disclaimer: when we have children in our care, it's fine to offer them some guidance, and right to help them understand the principles of following Jesus. But eventually they must make their own decisions, and be responsible for their own behaviour. It's hard to let go fully when they grow up, and of course we should be willing to advise or brainstorm with our adult children - or indeed with anyone else who asks us to. 

BUT

I am not responsible for anyone else's actions, nor do I have any right to judge them. God is the only judge, and He leads each person individually. He knows us all intimately. He knows which parts of my behaviour or inclinations I need to deal with first. And He knows the same about all His other beloved children too. It's remarkably easy to become complacent about sins - or mistakes - which we are not tempted to commit ourselves, and to judge them harshly in others. It's also, ironically, very easy to feel critical about behaviour in others that mirrors what we do ourselves.

And when I've admitted and worked through these tendencies, and feel that I'm beginning to move forward... that's when I realise that I still want to judge those who are judgemental. To fail to tolerate the intolerant. To criticise the critical.

That takes me right back to the beginning.

God wants me to love other people. Including those who do not, from my perspective, do a very good job of loving. 

This post has been several weeks in the making, as I tried to work out what to say, and whether the content was so obvious that it didn't need to be said. It might still have hung around my unpublished collection had it not been for reading, yesterday, this excellent post entitled 'How to love people you disagree with' on a blog I have recently started following. It said much of what I had been thinking recently, a great deal more succinctly.

So I cut this down (yes, it was even longer...) and tweaked a little, and decided it might be worth posting after all.

Church and Temperament

What is it that makes someone choose to belong to a certain church or congregation?

In part, it seems to relate to our upbringing and culture. If we're brought up in a Christian home, we get used to the kind of church service that our parents introduced us to. We might adopt it as our own, or we might reject it as 'boring' or 'old-fashioned' or 'too touchy-feely' - again, at least partly depending on our temperament. Equally, someone might reject their parents' denomination simply because they are rejecting the whole package of their childhood and upbringing.

But recent discussions about the church in general, both locally in 'real life' and around the blogging and social networking world in general, have begun to make me realise that perhaps David Keirsey was right when he talked about the four temperaments leading to the primary motivations in people's lives. He labelled the temperaments as Artisan, Guardian, Idealist and Rational; in Myers-Briggs terms, those refer to the groupings who include the letters SP, SJ, NF and NT respectively.

Much has been written about how the different denominations and styles of Christian worship appeal to people of different temperaments. Some of it makes sense: Guardians, who particularly value tradition, belonging and loyalty, may well choose to attend structured churches where long-standing traditions are upheld, where they know from week to week roughly what to expect. Artisans, by contrast, who tend to be relaxed and spontaneous are likely to enjoy church services that encourage those traits - stereotypically, the more charismatic ones.

Within any local congregation, there are likely to be people of all four temperaments. Artisans and/or Guardians will almost certainly be in the majority, just because there are more of them in the world in general. But there will probably be people of other temperaments there too; indeed, there probably should be, since a living, growing body comprises many different parts.

What I have realised is that people's needs within the Church congregation (of whatever style) are in line with their temperament needs. Worryingly, we all tend to assume that our own personal needs are the most important - or, at least, that they are true for everyone else. It's not surprising. I sometimes find it very difficult, even after years of studying and discussing these theories, to believe, truly, that all four sets of values and needs really are equivalent.

Most of the leaders of any congregation are likely to be Guardians. They are the ones who most like structure, after all. They are good at creating guidelines and rules, and ensuring they are kept. That doesn't mean they are rigid or controlling (although they may be) - just that they are likely to be skilled in administration, and logistics in general. They will care about church policy, and legal issues, and hierarchies within church groups. They may take care of the fabric of the church, too. Guardians are usually reliable, responsible people who can solve problems and take care of what needs to be done.

The problem arises because, to a Guardian, it's very important to belong to a group; a local church congregation is just such a group, so a Guardian leader, and the many Guardian members of his church will be naturally be loyal to it. This may sometimes be at the expense of other churches nearby; however they may well attempt church unity, and joint social events, so as to be part of a wider group. Co-operation is important to Guardians, so they will encourage others to take part in as many activities as possible.

But, most of all, Guardians will tend to see the Sunday services as the lynch-pin of the Christian life. That's where people get together to worship, to hear the Word of God, to pray, and to socialise over coffee. That - according to many Guardians I know - is where the Body of Christ stands firm, and where we can all show our loyalty to each other and to God. Moreover, Guardians tend to like to keep the status quo. They will often be suspicious of too much change, although they may approve small changes which they see as positive.

What of Artisans? They are perhaps less likely to belong to very structured churches, since their primary needs are for freedom to act, and to follow their impulses. Artisans live very much in the moment; they like to hear God speaking, to meet needs as they occur, and are often extremely generous. Charismatic churches leaders might well be Artisans, open to the movement of the Holy Spirit, able to express their worship in movement, or art, as well as song. Some of the 'emerging' churches may also have a significant number of Artisans, who want to explore use of the senses, and different tools and art forms in the context of Christian worship.

Can Artisans and Guardians co-exist? Certainly. If they don't, then a congregation becomes unbalanced. The Artisans can push the Guardians a little way out of their comfort zones, questioning unhelpful traditions, showing what God is actually doing now, as well as discussing what He did thousands of years ago. Then the Guardians can help the Artisans live in the real world, investing wisely, taking care of their buildings, and ensuring their missionaries are supported. A Guardian-only church could be rather dry; an Artisan-only church could seem decidedly flaky.

But what of those minority temperaments, the Rationals and the Idealists?

In recent years, there has been an increasing number of people around the world who call themselves believers, who love Jesus, but who find church services - and church attendance in general - to be alien, uncomfortable, pointless. Amongst our close friends there are at least half a dozen people, in addition to ourselves, who feel (or have felt) this way.

It was something of an 'aha' moment when I realised that almost all of us in this group are either Idealists or Rationals. In any random group, we would expect to find around 12% of each.  Perhaps like-minded people tend to be drawn to each other; yet when I look at our Christmas card list, or consider all the people I  count as friends around the world, there are people of all four temperaments. We have a lot of Guardian friends; those of them who are Christians are almost all committed, one way or another, to their local church congregations.

I suppose about a quarter of our Christian friends are likely to be Idealists or Rationals. That fits, roughly, with what one would expect.  A few of them are also a comfortable part of a local congregation. But not all of them. And here's the lightbulb moment - the majority of our NT/NF Christian friends are not currently part of an organised church.

When I look at the books written on the topic of  'not attending church' - and there are quite a few - the feel of them all is somewhat abstract, sometimes academic, and very much concerned with people. Primarily, it would appear, Idealists. Yes, we who long for harmony, integrity and relationships are the ones who seem to find it most difficult to belong to a structured church.  The Rationals who are in a similar position are often those who feel that they want to learn more - that most sermons say nothing, most songs simply repeat what they know already.

Interactive Bible study can be a good way of learning for people of these types, as can reading books, taking part in online discussions, or even reading and writing blog posts (which inevitably involves some research). But not, it would seem for many, most organised church services.

I don't know where this leaves us. I find it sad that there is no local congregation where I can fully be myself, where I can relate with integrity to others, and see the building up of harmonious relationships. Sermons I have heard in the past ten or fifteen years mostly seem to repeat 'basics' which I have heard countless times before. Worse, for me as an Idealist, too many church groups seem full of strife rather than supportive. When someone is in need - perhaps a serious illness, or bereavement - church leaders and counsellors may be of great help; but in the day-to-day concerns of an ordinary life, they seem barely to be interested.

And yet when we meet with other believers in small gatherings to eat, or play games, or chat, we can (and do) build each other up, and meet each other's needs. Discussions arise naturally, we refer to the Bible and other reference books when necessary. My need for harmonious relationships can be met again and again in small gatherings; those who want to learn can ask questions or introduce discussions topics. We're not very good at structure, and our groups don't look anything like 'church' to those who are committed to a regular Sunday service, and a particular style of worship.  But Jesus said that when even two or three people gather in His name, He is there too.  When we do something for the least of His people, we do it for Him.

Far too often Paul's injunction that we should not stop meeting with other believers is taken to refer to Sunday morning services - but those did not happen in Paul's day. Believers met frequently for meals, and socialising, and learning about Jesus, and discussing doctrine. All of which we do, and enjoy very much. I do also attend some church services from time to time, but it's quite freeing not to belong to only one congregation. The Body of Christ in our town consists of all believers - all who follow Jesus as Messiah - and I can't find any Biblical or other reason to 'join' any one of them and (by implication) reject the others. I prefer to be in fellowship with all parts of the Body if I possibly can. 

Christians, alcohol and drunkenness

A few days ago, I read a brief commentary on Genesis 9:18-29 This is the passage where Noah plants and harvest a vineyard, invents some kind of wine, drinks it, and then falls asleep in the nude. One of his sons sees him; the others reverse into the tent and cover him up. Reading the passage I noticed that while Noah is upset with the son who was disrespectful (did he, perhaps, laugh at his dad's nakedness? Make some lewd comment? Try to persuade his siblings to take a peek?) the passage does not in any way pass judgement on Noah himself.

So I was rather surprised that the commentary focused only briefly on the different behaviours of Noah's sons, and then made quite a big deal about what it called the 'sin' of Noah's drunkenness. It was making the point that even people as righteous as Noah can fall into temptation, and that it's easy for all of us to trip up over relatively small issues. Undoubtedly true... but I didn't feel that it was actually relevant in this case.

Disclaimer: I am not, in any way, a champion of alcohol. I don't personally drink it at all, as I don't like it. I very much dislike the behaviour of people who have had too much to drink, even when they're just at the slightly silly stage, and I am well aware that drinking makes drivers dangerous and causes some people to turn violent. It's expensive, it's addictive, and although a glass or two of wine may be beneficial to our health, it certainly isn't good in excess.

However, just because something is harmful in excess, and under certain situations does not make it automatically sinful. I know that there are some Christians who believe that all the references to wine in the New Testament actually refer to unfermented grape juice. This suggests that they have not looked at the passages in any detail, and also that they have no idea about the times of grape harvests in the Middle East. Without the benefits of freezers or tetrapak processing, unfermented grape juice would only have been available between about August and October in Palestine, where Jesus lived as a man. By Passover (March, usually) the only possible way to drink the 'fruit of the vine' was in its fermented state.

In addition, I can't avoid thinking about Jesus' first miracle, where he launched his public ministry. It's described in John's Gospel, chapter 2. Jesus was at a wedding with his friends, when the wine ran out. Did he give an impromptu sermon about the evils of alcohol? Did he tell a parable about the need to be prepared, the kind that featured later on in his teaching career?

No.

He used his power as the Son of God to save the public humiliation of the bride's father, by transforming ordinary water into wine.

And yes, it would have been regular fermented wine. Good quality wine, too. The wedding host makes a comment about how impressive it is to bring out top wine at this stage in the party. Most people, he says, serve the best wine first and then produce cheaper wine when the guests have drunk so much that they can't really tell the difference. So Jesus is actually producing high-class wine, even though the guests have reached this stage where their discernment is impaired.

Quite startling, really, even if - like me - you've grown up in a culture where Christians are happy to drink alcohol. Jesus is apparently condoning not just a glass or two, but continued drinking at a lively party.

I started this post by thinking about Noah, who lived several thousand years before the famous wedding in Cana. Possibly he made the first wine that was ever grown. Prior to the flood, people were corrupt and violent, but there is no mention of their being drunk. So it's quite possible that Noah had no idea what he was producing when he made some wine. Maybe it was a happy accident - he wondered how bad some old grape juice was, and found that it was surprisingly good. Or perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing - the passage doesn't say.

Either way, Noah drank a lot of wine. And then he fell asleep. He didn't hit his sons or beat his wife, he didn't tear the tent down, or smash crockery. He didn't take his donkey out. He didn't even fall down comatose outside his tent. He went in, and took off his robe, and then fell asleep - apparently - before he had time to cover himself up.

Is that sin? I don't see it. Perhaps he had a headache when he woke up - the natural consequence of over-indulging. Undoubtedly his actions were the catalyst for his son's bad behaviour that upset Noah so much when he learned about it (but then, who would have told him? His other, holier-than-thou sons tattling...?). So it was certainly a pity that this happened. I hope Noah learned his lesson, and was more careful in future.

But sin?

When the law had not been given, and when wine was apparently God-given - and, later, sanctioned by Jesus?

Somehow, I don't think so. It seems to me that, instead, Noah's rather dramatic condemnation of his son's actions (driven, quite possibly, by embarrassment as much as anything) was his sin in this story.

I would be interested to know how others see it.