But Elijah went a day's journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying "It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than those who were before me." 1 Kings 19.4 (ESV) Where do you go for comfort?
There seem to be days every now and again during this lockdown (and to be honest, probably before, but they were shrouded in the busyness of going to work and needing to do a million more things by the time I got home that they weren't really as noticeable), when I just don't really feel like doing much, and I want to just eat the food that I know isn't that great for me, and sit under my covers in my bed, and do things that don't take much effort. Today is actually one of those days so far... As I type, I am covered in a duvet and a blanket, with my TV on pause next to me while I write this post. I'll probably go back to it afterwards while I do menial chores and general admin. It's not that there aren't other things I could do. Even other things I want to do! It's just every now and again I guess it just seems like there's not much point. It gets annoying being stuck inside, and my response is to just soak up the indoors, not-doing-anything, attitude. But that's ok. Tomorrow will be different - maybe even this afternoon will be different! I'm not going to get mad at myself; just keep reminding myself of the things that are good to do! But some of that desire also is my body wanting comfort. Wanting to not have to make decisions, just be looked after, and told everything's going to be alright. The cognitive burden of thinking on the present situation too deeply is too much for me. It is enough. I have had enough. We all feel like this sometimes, I'm sure! Elijah felt like this too. He'd been doing and doing, and it hadn't worked, and he just wanted to lay still. To not make decisions. Even to die. Elijah needed comfort. So God comforted him. God let the emotionally overwhelmed Elijah sleep. God provided him with some food. And then God gave Elijah directions on somewhere to go. Once there, God greeted Elijah with a gentle whisper. There God listened as Elijah spoke. After Elijah had shared every fear and every worry, God's advice to Elijah was to go back and face the situation that troubles him. And so, Elijah was able to go. I leave you with my pastor's words from her 'LOOK UP IN LOCKDOWN' post for today: Something happens when we choose to meet with God. Especially when we enter into the quietness and peacefulness that surrounds him. God is able to give us, just as he gave Elijah, strength, encouragement and comfort to go back and face those things that trouble us. So if today is one of those days for you - where you've had enough and you don't want to do anything - why not take it to God and allow God to comfort you. Let God strengthen you, encourage you and comfort you, to go back and do all that God, in this moment, has given you to do. God can face down all the things that trouble you. Stay safe, and take care!
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[Daniel, to Goliath:] You come at me with sword and spear and battle-ax. I come at you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel's armies, whom you curse and mock. 1 Samuel 17.45 It doesn't take a giant to kill a giant! I remember back when we actually went to church, one of the girls (age 5-6) would repeatedly ask me for the story of David and Goliath. I'd try and convince her to have a different one sometimes, but we'd always come back to this tale at some point! She clearly passed that love on to her little brother too, whose dad asked him why he loves the story so much this week. And with an innocent look and a smile on his face, he answered, "because tiny David killed the giant Goliath!"
With kids, good and bad is so easy! If the good one kills the bad one, it's happy days! I remember when I lived with a family a couple of years ago, and we were watching The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe for film night, and when it got to the ending fight scene, the 4-year-old girl saw Aslan's army go charging off and was shouting, "Yes, go, go, go, kill the witch," like she was in some 16th century witch-hunt!!! It's not so easy now. Did Goliath want to fight for the Philistines, or was he forced because of his great size? Why was this war happening anyway? Who had started it (if it's ever that simple...)? I'm not a fan of violence, in any form, and this tale has lots of it! But there are times when I have felt like what I was up against was bigger than I could overcome. Like I'm tiny David against the giant Goliath. When I was going through my times of disordered eating and struggling with anorexia, it has felt like a giant standing between me and the way to being healthy again. And those times certainly felt like a fight. A fight it was often easier not to fight, like the Israelites, cowering and shaking in their tents, not putting anyone forward, hoping it would all just be fine in the end, even if they didn't actually do anything. They could take the mocking and the shame, the humiliation - but they weren't willing to take the pain of trying to fight and losing. And each time I've felt like I was in the hands of anorexia (those giant hands coming out forwards out of my illustration), I am convinced that I have only survived because I finally let God come and fight it for me. God is the reason tiny David killed the giant Goliath. And God is the reason we can overcome things that are far too big for us to overcome on our own! If you feel like you're up against something way bigger than you can overcome, remember today that it doesn't take a giant to kill a giant. God is there, waiting for you to let God in and transform the possibilities! Stay safe, and take care! "Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, clear as glass, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life, with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations." (Revelation 22.1-2) "All streams flow into the sea, yet the sea is never full. To the place the streams come from, there they return again. All things are wearisome, more than one can say." (Ecclesiastes 1.7-8a) Water is ubiquitous. There is water we need to drink. Where I live, there is often water that falls from the sky, pin-pricks spiking through my clothes as I cycle and as clouds begin to let go. There is water we wash in. There is water that seeps out of the corners of our eyes when things become too sad, or too happy, or too overwhelming, or too disappointing. There is water that powers across the sea, crashing as waves against rocks, or cliffsides, or beaches. Water that wears down the land itself. There is water in streams, and lakes. There is water locked up in glaciers and ice-caps. There is water melting, tumbling, crashing. Sometimes life can be like water. Like everything is moving, cycling, yet necessary. What do you think? If all that I do goes into the world, yet the world is never full (complete, perfect, right, better), why do I bother? Ecclesiastes 1.7-8a. When all things are more wearisome than one can say, what keeps us going? Perhaps the utopian images of "something better" that we cling to, even if we are unable to say how it could become reality. And then we believe, somewhere deep inside us, that there can be life-giving water, that tears can be no more, that fruit can grow and sustain all year round, and that nations can be healed. Revelation 22.1-2. They are both here. We know the world is too broken for us to be able to fix it, but we also know that we've got to live this life as if we're trying to - or what's the point? This is metamodern. This is what a large majority of millennials and gen-z's feel. But it feels almost as if we're crashing around, tumbling and melting like ice-caps when we feel this way. We keep our heads above water, but only just. And what do we miss while we're so intent on surviving it? Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I need another lens through which to look.
There will be time again to fight the wrong things in the world. There will be time again to realise the world is beyond my power to fix. There will be time again to decide to keep trying to do good anyway.
But there needs to be time for silence, and to be still. I just got back from a week away by the sea! It's good to be home and to catch up on all the things I didn't do while on holiday, but I'm also always sad to say goodbye to the sea. And this photo pretty much sums those feelings up for me. I imagine my face with this wistful, longing look on it, gazing out, trying to know every undulation and take in all of this expanse - which I can't possibly do - while I can.
The sea has always made me think of God. How vast it is. How powerful it is. That I could never fully take it all in, but therefore, that I could never tire of endlessly exploring it. I remember a couple of years ago, sitting out on a surfboard in Cornwall waiting for a wave to come, and I kind of feel like that now. I feel like God is allowing me to glimpse something of the wonderful plans God has for me to get involved in - out there on the horizon - and I'm waiting. But it doesn't feel like it has at points in the past: like I'm aimlessly waiting, and praying desperately that God would reveal to me what I'm to do, because without that purpose explained I'm just bobbing around. And my legs are so tired from all the treading water that I know I can't keep it up. In those moments, I've needed God to save me. And God did. But this is different. This is like sitting on that surfboard. I have the feeling in my muscles from the shorter waves I caught closer in, practice spaces, trial and planning phases. I'm grateful for the rest as I sit and feel the undercurrents of God - the motions and movements, the direction they're pulling in. I'm immensely impressed at the beauty and vastness of God as I stare out at the sea all around me. I don't mind that I'm waiting this time - sure, I'm excited and looking forward to when it does come - but I'm not anxious or distressed in this waiting, because I'm spending this time delighting in who God is and all that God has done. And possibly more than anything, I am so hopeful. I'm excited. I feel elevated. There is a sense still, while I'm waiting, that something is about to happen. The waters are starting to stir in the way they do when there's going to be a big wave. And I want it. I don't know if I'll be able to ride it in all the way; there's a real possibility I might fall. But this is the sea we're talking about. This is God we're thinking of. There will be more waves. Grace comes again and again - and the more I ride on these waves, the more exceptional those rides will become. Don't get me wrong - I've experienced both of these kinds of waiting, and I probably will again. Sometimes waiting is just really hard. We all today live in a culture of immediacy, which means that waiting for something jars with us. We start to think that maybe it won't happen at all. I have struggled with this on numerous occasions. But I wanted to share this with you all because there are other kinds of waiting too, and waiting can be a positive experience. If you're in the midst of a waiting struggle - keep praying, be honest to God with your feelings, and allow God to save you from them. And if you're in the midst of a waiting like mine on the surfboard - delight in it, document it so you can remember it in the future, praise God in it. God is a God of all our different experiences and emotions. So keep God involved in them! Psalm 139.5 | אָח֣וֹר וָקֶ֣דֶם צַרְתָּ֑נִי וַתָּ֖שֶׁת עָלַ֣י כַּפֶּֽכָה׃
"Behind and in front, you've enclosed me, and put your hand upon me." We can do this. We're moving forwards and I'm not afraid. Sometimes I dig my heels in, but you move me onward anyway. You lead me - you're excited and you know the way through - there's so much you want to show me. You're who I see, and want to see, but sometimes I wish you'd just tell me where we're going too. You've got my back - you're sensible, responsible, secure - it's comforting. You hem me in, I can't escape; there is no escaping life, but at least I can live it with you. I know that whatever happens you're there and your palm on me tells me that you won't abandon me. I won't be alone. I won't be lost. Always seeking you and your presence. At least not lost forever. Behind and in front. You oscillate. I oscillate. |
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AuthorI'm a recent Cambridge Theology graduate now studying for a Masters in Biblical Studies and blogging about all sorts of things! I'm interested in faith, Church, theology, social action, the great outdoors and being creative, and all of those things - along with many more - come through in my posts!
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