As I pull up on my bike to drop my daughter at school, a group of mums are discussing their various holidays to Europe. We live in an affluent area and the conversations about holidays, pools, renovations and cars are endless. I always find these conversations difficult, because I find it all pretty superficial and meaningless. Since I left my corporate job, I find these conversations doubly difficult, because I don't have any money to spend, and it reminds me what I walked away from, a bit like rubbing salt into the wound.
I become aware of the single mother who battles to keep on top of the bills each week, she's just in earshot of all this. What's this like for her, I wonder. I stop feeling sorry for myself.
I get home from the school drop off, my neighbour comes over, she has some sad news, we talk it over with a cup of tea and I make some soup and send it over in the afternoon. Such a different conversation to the one at school. One full of love, sorrow and real human connection. An easy choice if I had to pick.
The conversations at school are not intended to be exclusive, but inevitably they are. They indicate status, and they exclude the status-less; the disabled woman who can't travel, the single mother on a base wage, the woman with sad news. How do we be sisters to one another when we're always comparing and competing?
Since I cut down my work commitments, I have less money and more time, and more of these meaningful, spontaneous conversations take place. They are hugely enriching. I can't help wondering why this is happening. Is it just that I'm more available? Or is it because now I too am status-less? Does that make me more accessible? Is this why Jesus instructed us to turn away from pursuing wealth?
Suddenly the verse "blessed are the poor in spirit" starts to make a lot more sense.
Monday, 16 April 2012
Friday, 13 April 2012
How do I hear God's voice?
So we set out to trust our lives to God 7 months ago. I feel like an addict withdrawing from the needle. I can't believe how central money and security have been. I keep trying to get another fix. As I withdraw, there is a struggle, a battleground. I remember a line that God is "the still, small voice." The word that leaps out is "still". Hmm I need some of that!
The most still place I can imagine is the beach, so I take my daughter and we go to a nearby cove for a swim. When we get there, I stand in the water, looking at the exquisite colorful seagrass just under the water. I notice something sparkling like a diamond. Thinking it must be a lost piece of jewellery, I grasp for it, but as I plunge my hand into the water it disappears. Confused, I look again, there it is! I go again, gone! What's happening? Then I look around and notice several similar shiny things. One is closer to the surface, on closer examination I see that it is .... a tiny fish scale glimmering in the sunlight, something I would describe as "worthless".
I put such a high value on a diamond and a low value on sparkly fish scales that light up and draw attention to the seagrass. I am struck by my own propensity to devalue things of beauty because they are of no monetary value.
The still small voice says as clear as day, "when you try to grab glittery things they disappear just when you think you have them in your grasp".
In my opinion no person can definitively say "God told me..."
I do claim that this is an experience of hearing God, and this is why;
The first clue is that the voice is still and small, yet clear and resonating.
The second clue is it brings both truth and freedom - it is confronting and liberating, brutally honest and hopeful, tough to hear and comforting.
The third clue is that it is wise beyond my capacity.
The final clue is that when I share it with someone, it takes their breath away; it brings love and a blessing to me and to the person I share it with.
God is not to be proven, tested or theorised - these are all things you do to something that's dead. God is to be heard, seen, experienced, listened to, spoken of, loved.
How do we love God? Perhaps in part by hearing the still, small voice and acknowleding that it exists.
The most still place I can imagine is the beach, so I take my daughter and we go to a nearby cove for a swim. When we get there, I stand in the water, looking at the exquisite colorful seagrass just under the water. I notice something sparkling like a diamond. Thinking it must be a lost piece of jewellery, I grasp for it, but as I plunge my hand into the water it disappears. Confused, I look again, there it is! I go again, gone! What's happening? Then I look around and notice several similar shiny things. One is closer to the surface, on closer examination I see that it is .... a tiny fish scale glimmering in the sunlight, something I would describe as "worthless".
I put such a high value on a diamond and a low value on sparkly fish scales that light up and draw attention to the seagrass. I am struck by my own propensity to devalue things of beauty because they are of no monetary value.
The still small voice says as clear as day, "when you try to grab glittery things they disappear just when you think you have them in your grasp".
In my opinion no person can definitively say "God told me..."
I do claim that this is an experience of hearing God, and this is why;
The first clue is that the voice is still and small, yet clear and resonating.
The second clue is it brings both truth and freedom - it is confronting and liberating, brutally honest and hopeful, tough to hear and comforting.
The third clue is that it is wise beyond my capacity.
The final clue is that when I share it with someone, it takes their breath away; it brings love and a blessing to me and to the person I share it with.
God is not to be proven, tested or theorised - these are all things you do to something that's dead. God is to be heard, seen, experienced, listened to, spoken of, loved.
How do we love God? Perhaps in part by hearing the still, small voice and acknowleding that it exists.
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