Last Sunday's Thought: Is Love truly our foundation?

The writings of the Apostle Paul are replete with prayer. If we follow the suggestions of one topical arrangement, they cover variously prayers for Godly living, for ministry opportunity and success, for strengthening, for increased knowledge – of the Lord, of His will, of his love, of the hope of his calling, of the riches we have, of his power; for more love; for grace and peace, for Christians to be in one accord, for Israel’s salvation, for Christ to dwell in our hearts through faith; for more hope, and for the fullness of God.

         Uniquely, our reading from Ephesians chapter 3:14-21 combines four prayers in one. Paul prays for our strengthening; for increased knowledge of the love of Jesus; for Christ to dwell in our hearts by faith; and for the fullness of God: ‘And I pray that you…may have power… to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.’ Paul’s writing can be rather crowded and difficult to follow, because so many thoughts jostle together. One suggested paraphrase reads at verses 17-19 that Christ may abide as a permanent resident in your hearts through faith; that you, being stable on the foundation of love, may be entirely competent to take eagerly and seize and understand with all the saints the width, and length, and height, and depth; and to know the love of Christ which goes beyond human knowledge, that you will be filled to the measure with all the fullness of God.

Yet this is hardly a beautiful paraphrase of a wonderful prayer. Much to be preferred is Tom Wright’s version as prayer: ‘My prayer is this, that he will lay out all the riches of his glory to give you strength and power, through his spirit in your inner being; that the king may make his home in your hearts, through faith; that love may be your root, your firm foundation; and that you may be strong enough (with all God’s holy ones) to grasp the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the king’s love – though actually it’s so deep that nobody can really know it! So may God fill you with all his fullness.’ [Tom Wright, The New Testament for Everyone, 430.]


In On Your Knees! St Paul at Prayer (1992), Michael Green imagines this prayer as a meditation of St Paul while he lay in prison dictating his letter to the Ephesians. His chains permit him to kneel as he prays. The prayer is permeated by a sense of wonder at being a member of God’s family. Our family relations, spoiled and marred by sin and discord as they are, are pale reflections of the perfect Parent in heaven who is the ultimate source of all love and all families. Rather than prayer being something we do for God, by allowing him to come and minister to us, we receive a gracious, indwelling, Saviour, who seeks to make us his home. We cannot have Christ in our hearts without having love on board. ‘Nobody’, Michael Green concludes, ‘has ever framed a bolder prayer than the one Paul... pray[s]’ in Ephesians 3: ‘that his readers be filled with all the fullness of God.’ Yet God is able to do abundantly above what we ask or think.

It is indeed a wonderful prayer, and it gets to the heart of the Christian message. In order to change other people’s lives, our own lives must first be changed. If we really do begin to appreciate the enormity of God’s love for us, and particularly the width, and length, and height, and depth of the love Christ has for us, we may be filled to the measure with all the fullness of God.

For we need to be completely filled with the love of God. If we are not quite empty vessels, we are like containers which are only partially full. We need to let God fill us to overflowing. No matter how much love God pours into us, he is never empty: he always has more. God never runs out of love. Left to our own devices, we do not have inexhaustible supplies of love. As Paul states elsewhere, at 2 Corinthians 4:7: ‘…we have this treasure in clay jars, so that the extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.’ God fills these old clay jars – that is, us – with Himself so that it becomes evident that it is not us, but the extraordinary power of God that changes lives. No human being can take credit for the Gospel message or for the spread of the Word of God. We are mere instruments. It is God who does the work with His message of the good news in Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God.

Last Sunday's Thought: new life in the 'fear' of the Lord

At the Cathedral on Wednesday evening Bishop Christopher confirmed one of our own, Louise Clitheroe, in the faith (see the image). The Bishop prays for the candidates: ‘Let your Holy Spirit rest upon them: the Spirit of wisdom and understanding; the Spirit of counsel and inward strength; the Spirit of knowledge and true godliness; and let their delight be in the fear of the Lord.’ When I was confirmed on 11 May 1961, the Bishop of Woolwich used the old form of words which had a similar message for the candidates: ‘daily increase in them thy manifold gifts of grace; the spirit of wisdom and understanding; the spirit of counsel and ghostly strength; the spirit of knowledge and true godliness; and fill them, O Lord, with the spirit of thy holy fear, now and for ever.’

         Both prayers had a similar ending with ‘the fear of the Lord’ or ‘thy holy fear’. By this is meant a combination of human sentiments towards God: awe, reverence, submission, respect and love. Henceforth living in ‘the fear of the Lord’, guided by the Holy Spirit – or, in the words of one prayer the ‘blessed Spirit of Holy Fear’ – means that we are a new creation. As Paul tells us in Galatians 6:15, this experience of being a new creation is the most important thing in our lives; it is ‘everything’. It outweighs everything we were before by a considerable amount. In Christ Jesus, Paul tells us in Galatians 3:26, we ‘are all children of God through faith’. We now share an intimate personal relationship with God himself: Christ dwelling in us brings about this nearness. We ‘are no longer strangers and aliens, but … citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.’ We ‘are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God’ (Ephesians 2:22).

         This process is often called the ‘mystical indwelling of Christ’, and has been called ‘the secret of the Christian life of victory, of fellowship with God, and of the sense of nearness of God.’ Paul does not explain the process here, but does so later on in Ephesians (3.17): there he tells us that the indwelling of Christ by the Holy Spirit makes us ‘rooted and grounded in love’. When our Saviour is at home in our hearts, we become spiritually strong and fruitful as a tree that is deeply rooted in the soil. His indwelling also enables us to be grounded in love as a building is made firm by its solid foundation. The indwelling Christ is the ground of unity and love between God and man and between man and his fellow men. Reconciliation with God brings about – and requires – reconciliation with man.

         Christians, we are told, ‘are sent into this world to be people of reconciliation’. Sometimes we find this very difficult. Others may have hurt us, done us wrong or who have been so difficult in their behaviour that we find it almost impossible to do business with them. We may find it difficult ourselves to pray for them. But the Holy Spirit, working within us, can strengthen us to pray for them and makes possible what, at first sight, seems impossible for us. When our Saviour is at home in our hearts, we become spiritually strong and become able to do the most difficult thing and seek reconciliation with those who do not wish to reconcile with us.

         Christ dwelling in us makes us capable of doing things which we would not naturally feel possible or even desirable. In 2 Corinthians 5:19, Paul tells us: ‘For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And he gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation.’ And Paul summarizes Jesus’ work of redemption in Colossians 1:20: ‘Through the Son, then, God decided to bring the whole universe back to himself. God made peace through his Son’s blood on the cross and so brought back to himself all things, both on earth and in heaven.’ Thanks be to God.

Last Sunday's reflection: the God in me who prays

Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son (1669, detail)

Last week’s reflection ended with words of Henri Nouwen (1932-1996), unquestionably one of the twentieth century’s greatest spiritual writers. This week we reflect on why it is that Henri Nouwen’s words speak to us as powerfully as they do. Are there lessons for us in our own prayer life? He wrote over 40 books: few have read each and every one of his works and no claim to completeness is made here.

         The chronological listing of his works brings out the main periods of his life; but neither these influences on nor the precise contents of his writings is our principal concern here. What we are looking for are some of the keys as to why his writings continue to have such a profound influence on Christian spirituality sixteen years after his death. There are various descriptions which may convey something of their tone: vulnerability (Nouwen’s openness to God and to his reader); compassion (the concern for others as the practical outreach of spiritual development); the assertion of the capacity for forgiveness as the test of the Christian life; hospitality as the visible evidence of our faith; the sense of the Christian journey as one of movement, especially of homecoming to God; and finally his recognition that prayer in a busy world is difficult and demands discipline: there can be no Christian discipleship without discipline (Show me the Way, 62).

         Nouwen accepts that ‘prayer is not our most natural response to the world. Left to our own impulses, we will always want to do something else before we pray.’ Yet prayer ‘is in many ways the criterion of Christian life’, ‘our first concern’; ‘we can do nothing at all, but… God can do everything through us’ (Seeds of Hope, pp. 116-117). At first we prefer to cling to a sorry past rather than trust in a new future; only when we dare to let go and surrender some of our many fears can our hands relax and our palms spread out in a gesture of receiving. Only gradually is there a new found freedom, a suspicion that to pray is to live (ibid. 118-19). ‘Compassion’, Nouwen teaches us, ‘lies at the heart of our prayer for our fellow human beings… but … I realize that compassion is not mine but God’s gift to me. I cannot embrace the world, but God can. I cannot pray, but God can pray in me’ (ibid. 124).

‘Now I know’, Nouwen reveals in Show me the Way, ‘that it is not I who pray but the Spirit of God who prays in me. Indeed, when God’s glory dwells in me, there is nothing too far away, nothing too painful, nothing too strange or too familiar that it cannot contain and renew by its touch… He himself prays in me and touches the whole world with his love right here and now’ (Show me the Way, 76). The spiritual life is the life of true freedom, where we allow the Holy Spirit, God’s love, to be our only guide (ibid. 98). ‘It is the Holy Spirit of God who prays in us, who offers us the gifts of love, forgiveness, kindness, goodness, gentleness, peace and joy. It is the Holy Spirit who offers us the life that death cannot destroy’ (Bread for the Journey, 158).

         Listening to God’s ‘still small voice’ (Show me the Way, 62; 1 Kings 19:12) is the beginning of the move to an obedient life to God. ‘Without silence the Word cannot become our inner guide; without meditation it cannot build its home in our hearts and speak from there’ (Spiritual Formation, 27). Spiritual formation is ‘the gradual development of the heart of God in the life of a human being…’ (ibid. 38), but with the important proviso that Christians are destined for life in community: ‘spiritual formation always includes formation to life in community’ (ibid. 29). As people who build up a common life, Christians ‘are sent into this world to be people of reconciliation’ (ibid. 144).

         The dominating image for Nouwen in later life was Rembrandt’s remarkable depiction of the return of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32) in the Hermitage, St Petersburg, to which he alludes in several different contexts but chiefly in The Return of the Prodigal Son. A Story of Homecoming and Home Tonight. Reflections on the Parable of the Prodigal Son. After the destruction of Armero in Colombia following a volcanic eruption in 1986, he reflected: ‘As I pray and lift the thousands of people buried in Armero up to God, I see once again Rembrandt’s painting of the old father welcoming his lost son home. His large red cape has become so wide that it covers the whole globe. He says again: “You are safe, my children, you are safe with me. I love you all with a love that never dies. Do not be afraid, but love one another as I love you”’ (Seeds of Hope, 218).

‘Here is the God I want to believe in’, Nouwen writes in The Return of the Prodigal Son: ‘a Father who, from the beginning of creation, has stretched out his arms in merciful blessing, never forcing himself on anyone, but always waiting: never letting his arms drop down in despair, but always hoping that his children will return so that he can speak words of love to them and let his tired arms rest on their shoulders. His only desire is to bless’ (The Return, 95-6). ‘The true centre of Rembrandt’s painting is the hands of the father. On all them all the light is concentrated; on them the eyes of the bystanders are focused; in them mercy becomes flesh; upon them forgiveness, reconciliation and healing come together, and through them, not only the tired son, but also the worn-out father find their rest… Those hands are God’s hands. They are also the hands of my parents, teachers, friends, healers and all those whom God has given me to remind me of how safely I am held. Not long after Rembrandt painted the father and his blessing hands, he died’ (ibid. 96).

         Reflecting on the relationship between Jesus and the Father in a workshop held on the Rembrandt painting, Nouwen concluded: ‘the parable of the prodigal son invites our reflection on this great, great revelation of amazing good news. The story embodies the relationship. Look again at the Rembrandt painting of a father laying hands on his young son. Feel those hands and remember how such loving tenderness affects us and makes us live. We may know the anguish of not being touched with love, but these incredible hands lift us from our knees in total forgiveness while healing our broken hearts’ (Home Tonight, 97).

Note: descriptions of Nouwen’s books are to be found on the website: www.henrinouwen.org/Books/Bibliography/Bibliography.aspx

Rembrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son (1669, detail)

Last Sunday's Thought: Our God speaks, but our task is to listen

         Uniquely, for John in his gospel, Jesus is ‘the Word [who] became flesh and lived among us’ (John 1:14). He also tells us that the Word was ‘with God’ and that it was uncreated. ‘No one has ever seen God’, John argues. ‘It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known’ (John 1:18). Without wishing to elaborate further in philosophical and theological speculation about the prologue to John’s gospel, for us the terminology of the Word, logos, is particularly important. Logos can mean much more than speech, but this aspect of ‘the Word’ is worth concentrating on. ‘This speech of God is not only a possibility’, one commentator writes, ‘ – it is an imperative. It lies at the heart of vital faith and fullness of life. God speaking to humans and humans responding to God provides the matrix for life, for meaning and vocation. And, when the individual or the community turns away from the God who speaks, faith, life and mission wane’ (Ben Campbell Johnson, The God who speaks. Learning the Language of God (2004), p. 7). And if we speak to God in fervent prayer, we need to know that on occasion he will speak to us in reply.

         Of course, when we think about it, we know from both the Old and New Testaments that God speaks. He speaks to Abram before he is renamed Abraham, telling him that he is to move from his land to another of God’s choosing and that he will make him the father of a great nation. He speaks to Moses after he brought the people of Israel out of slavery, that they should have no other gods before him. And the Psalmist celebrates the voice of God as ‘powerful’ and full of majesty, able to break the cedars of Lebanon (Psalm 29:4-6). The true God ‘is in the heavens’ and is able to speak, unlike the idols of other nations who ‘have mouths but do not speak… [and who] make no sound in their throats.’ (Ps 115:3-8).

         John the Baptist recalls in John’s gospel that ‘the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit”’ (John 1:33). The gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke affirm in almost identical language that after Jesus was baptized in the river Jordan a voice came from heaven announcing ‘this is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased’ (Matthew 3:17); Mark and Luke have ‘thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased’ (Mark 1:11; Luke 3:22). And there are other New Testament examples of the voice of Jesus after his death, resurrection and ascension being heard by Saul/Paul, Ananias, Peter and others, so we can multiply the examples.

         These various biblical testimonies have enormous significance for our faith and our life of prayer. As Leslie Weatherhead reminds us in his A private house of prayer (1958), the first thing we have to do in our prayers is to assert the presence of God. We are not praying in a vacuum or to someone who is not present, but to someone who wants us to turn to him and is ready to listen. Not only to listen, but on occasion, if we are ready to hear, to reply, particularly with guidance in our spiritual life and our personal vocation.

         In his secret spiritual diary of a period of great crisis entitled The Inner Voice of Love, Henri Nouwen writes: ‘it is not going to be easy to listen to God’s call. Your insecurity, your self-doubt, and your great need for affirmation make you lose trust in your inner voice and run away from yourself. But you know that God speaks to you through your inner voice and that you will find joy and peace only if you follow it. Yes, your spirit is willing to follow, but your flesh is weak’ (Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love. A journey through anguish to freedom (1998), p. 89. Johnson, The God who speaks, p. 83).

         Elsewhere in the same diary, Nouwen writes: ‘God says to you, “I love you. I am with you. I want to see you come closer to me and experience the joy and peace of my presence. I want to give you a new heart and a new spirit. I want you to speak with my mouth, see with my eyes, hear with my ears, and touch with my hands. All that is mine is yours. Just trust me and let me be your God.” This is the voice to listen to. And that listening requires a real choice, not just once in while but every moment of each day and night’ (Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love, p. 113. Johnson, The God who speaks, p. 84).

         ‘Conversion is certainly not something you can bring about yourself’, Nouwen tells us. ‘It is not a question of will power. You have to trust in the inner voice that shows you the way’ (p. 6). God has called us to ‘speak the Word to the world and to speak it fearlessly’. We must then ‘let God speak words of forgiveness, healing and reconciliation, words calling to obedience, radical commitment and service’ (p. 99). We can do all this only if we cling to ‘the real, lasting and unambiguous love of Jesus’. Whenever we doubt that love, Nouwen tells us to ‘return to [our] inner spiritual home and listen there to love’s voice’ (p. 93). Our treasure is God’s love (p. 111); all we have to do is to nurture it in a quiet, intimate place. Listening to God, then is the road to the kingdom: ‘it is the journey to the place where [we all] can rest’ (p. 112).

Last Sunday's Thought: Announcing the 'Big Read'

Today I want to deal with not with the miracles of healing described in Mark’s gospel, but with a modern miracle, the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, whose 350^th anniversary of the 1662 edition is celebrated this year. The celebration this year follows upon another, equally important celebration last year, the 400^th anniversary of the King James Version of the Bible (the KJV or so-called Authorized Version) in 1611/2011. These two works, and not the almost forgotten documents such as the Thirty-Nine Articles to which priests are still required to subscribe, are the defining texts of the historic Church of England and the basis of the world-wide Anglican communion.

         I came upon how we might celebrate the 350^th anniversary in this church on the anniversary website:

         ‘Why not stage a Prayer Book-reading marathon, or just a selected portion (the Psalms; or the Epistles, Gospels and Collects)? This could be sponsored to raise funds for a church project, and is bound to attract the interest of the local media.’

         And there is a logical date on which we might attempt this marathon. The 1662 version of the BCP was authorized for public use with effect from St Bartholomew’s Day, 24 August. This is a Friday this year. We hold a communion service every Thursday morning in this church at 9.30 am. On Thursday 23 August there could be a special BCP communion service which would commence our ‘Big Read’ or ‘prayerfest’. We would then proceed to read all the Psalms from the BCP on Thursday until say 5pm, carrying over to the Friday morning commencing at 9.30 and concluding at 5 pm. Once we have completed all the Psalms, we would commence reading the Collects, Epistles and Gospels until the conclusion.

         And a further touch of some importance: to keep up with the present, we would download the materials for reading from the Book of Common Prayer section of the Church of England’s website and preserve the document and the names of the readers as one of our achievements in the Centenary Year of this Church. If we succeed in widening the range of sponsored readers to include readers from the younger generation, we would also make some progress in the task of making the BCP loved and used by a wider range of churchgoers than present. And, yes, we would seek to attract sponsorship for the endeavour from those around us in the community who have a love of the language and the tradition but are not currently worshippers.

This could be an important contribution not just to the 350^th anniversary of the BCP but to our own St Guthlac 100 celebrations.