Looking for God

In Psalm 105 verse 4 we read “Seek the Lord and his strength; seek his presence continually” (NRSV). In the context of that psalm,’ seeking the Lord’s presence’ amounts to looking at his wondrous works and recognizing all that he has bestowed on us in creation. From the blessings of a loving family, a warm dry home, and situated in lush countryside, it is perhaps not so difficult to recognize the Lord’s presence as to stop ourselves becoming contemptuous of the familiar.

There is however more than one way in which to seek the Lord’s presence, and perhaps Matthew 25 vv35-36 expresses it elliptically. The Lord is to be found in the naked, the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the imprisoned and the stranger.

We may find it difficult to seek our powerful God among the weak and destitute, in the ‘other’. Yet He is God of all, not just a chosen few. Jesus was after all born to a young woman barely into her teens and in the humblest of situations: in an animal house, where his crib was a food box. Dressed in swathing bands, he was naked in the sense of too poor for the rich clothing we might have expected for him. He was among strangers and was soon to be exiled to avoid Herod’s slaughter. Such was the condition of his birth, and such is the condition in which we find him still.

Finding the Lord in the least of his subjects, our responsibility and our duty is clear. It is not that in order to save ourselves we must offer alms to the poor: it is that in looking after these we offer them a glimpse of His glory reflected in our compassion for them. ‘Compassion’: that gut-twisting feeling that enough is enough and we must be the change we want to see. In such acts of ministry we begin to help others to perceive the Lord’s strength and to wish to join us in seeking him continually in a blessèd unending cycle of building His kingdom on earth.

Seek his presence continually.

Choices, choices

I don't like coffee, but I understand that sometimes people who do so suffer an overabundance of the bean. I don't mean addiction; I mean when you ask for a coffee and get offered cappuccino, americano, latte and so on. You choose latte and are offered skinny or full-fat. You choose full-fat and are offered 'sprinkles'. Suddenly the choices overwhelm, and you explode into "Just give me a b****y coffee!"

I'm writing this at Greenbelt, where there is a superabundance of theology, of dogma, of worship, of talks, and of causes to sign up to or protest against. I fail in my attempt to get into a talk on new monasticism and find myself instead, irony of ironies, going to get my iPhone charged.

And I wonder: "Am I missing out because of the choices that baffle and bewilder?
Yet in the background I hear the infectious beat of Rend Collective Experiment on the main stage. I catch phrases from the talk I'm missing but will be able to catch on mp3. A 'flash mob' has just burst into 'Amazing Love' right next to me. And I find myself inspired by the artistic efforts of unsung volunteers to sign-post the venues around me.
Inspired. Look up the root of that word, and look up the Greek for Holy Spirit.
No choice. Good choice.

Stand Up for Jesus

John the Baptist's vocation in the wilderness, that place where human frailty is laid bare, is the vocation of all Christians in these troubled times. We are surrounded by doubters and scoffers, and perhaps we lack the rhetorical skills to argue for our faith.

Yet we all possess choice in how we respond to our personal form of wilderness. We can each of us choose how to relate to those around us. In this lies the ability to put forward the Christian viewpoint to its fullest measure: that we love each other as ourselves, and that we love the Lord our God with all that we are.

The Word of life which was from the beginning we proclaim to you (from 1 John 1).