Learning in lockdown

A simple but effective tool for disciples is the learning circle.

Life is moving through chronological time between birth and death, when it is interrupted by a kairos moment, a time of heightened awareness of the moment, where time appears to stand still. This can be because we are having the time of our life, or because we are stuck in a fog of grief, or because a pandemic has led to the suspension of normal life and we are held in lockdown for our own safety and the safety of others. And this interruption, like an X on a treasure map, marks the place to dig.

The first step is to observe the situation carefully; then to reflect on our initial observations; making sure to discuss these with another person or persons whose judgement you trust, because we all have blind-spots. However, we are seeking more than sympathy, or even empathy. Together, we need to come up with a realistic plan of what we are going to do; ask that person or persons to help us by holding us to account to do what we have agreed; and then, act accordingly. This brings us back to where we began — hence a circle (the first hemisphere describes metanoia, or how we come to change our mind; the second hemisphere describes pistis, or how we begin to live differently as a consequence of this) — now equipped to move forward as one who is learning from life.

Here is an example:

Lockdown +n days. I observe that I am missing my friends. As I reflect on this, I realise that even as a profoundly introvert person, I need social connection; and perhaps to empathise with others in the same situation, including those who are more extravert in personality. So, we begin to discuss this online, via social media, sharing our experience, need for others, and desire to be there for one another too. Which is great, but of extremely limited help if that is as far as it goes. For one thing, those who feel isolated tend to isolate themselves further. What we need is to come up with a plan. Someone suggests a zoom party. The idea gets pushed back and forth a bit, needing someone to organise it, and others to commit to it, until a plan is hatched; along with the structure in place to ensure that it happens; and then it does. And, having happened, we can learn from that, too, and perhaps duplicate or adapt the plan, going forward.

Pastoral Care

Of all Scripture, the passage I most often speak from is Psalm 23. Most recently I spoke from it as I baptised a mother and two of her daughters, a young girl and a baby. There had been another daughter: last year, following her cot death, I had taken her funeral. We lit a candle in her memory, and as testimony to God’s faithfulness in dark times. After the baptism, the mother said to me, “Twelve months ago you told us that life would be good again; I couldn’t see then how that could be possible, but I can now.”

The Psalm draws on the experience of sheep. It begins in the low winter pasture; but the spring has arrived: the grass here is wearing thin, while the grass on the flat mountain top is lush and full of flowers, like a table-top spread with a banquet. The shepherd, sensitive to these things, leads the sheep up the ravine. The ravine is a hostile environment – a flash torrent could sweep the sheep away; predators hide in the rocks – but the sheep do not need to fear, because the shepherd carries two sticks: a crook, to guide – and, if need be, to rescue – the sheep;* and a club, with which to drive back predators.** At the end of the journey, the shepherd checks over his sheep, rubbing healing oil into any cuts.

But the mountain top is not the final destination: the shepherd will lead his sheep up and down the ravine many times as one pasture is depleted and another has regrown.

Psalm 23 is such a good funeral psalm not because it speaks of my life after my death, but because it holds out the hope of life (as opposed to mere ongoing existence), in time, after the death of one I have loved.

Life is change. Births, deaths, marriages. Children leaving home. Parents getting old. Jobs lost; jobs begun. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. At a personal level; at a community level; at a regional, national, international, or global level. We can no more hold back change than we can step outside of time and space.

Life is change, experienced as rhythms of change. Advent is my favourite Season of the year; but if it were always Advent, where would Christmas, Epiphany, Lent be? There is much that I love – and much that I find a real challenge – about having young children; without wishing it away, I wouldn’t want it to last forever!

Life is change, as we are simultaneously and paradoxically passing away and being transformed from one degree of glory to another.

The good shepherd –

by shepherd I mean someone with a primarily pastoral impulse;

someone whose gifts relate to humanising our organisational structures and working systems;

whether within the church or anywhere within wider society –

the good shepherd:

recognises tipping- or turning- points;

leads a community (not just the most adventurous individuals) into the new season of life, via our dying to our common (communal) and personal self;

encourages, guides and protects in the inevitable and unavoidable stage of moving through the valley of the shadow of death;

and attends to the wounds that are picked up along the way.

Life is change, and change is always disturbing – even for those who enjoy change; and even for those who are moving from sadness to joy. It involves a leaving behind and a setting out on a journey. We might have made the journey before, but the journey – in particular, the out-workings of the dangers of the journey – is different each time. We need shepherds to guide us. And yet, at least within the church, shepherds have become the most change-averse of all. Too often, a shepherd:

accepts that the grass is not as green as it was, but tries desperately to find ways of extending the season in the pasture, believing that it will grow back if we stick things out;

ironically endangers the survival of the flock out of concern not to enter the ravine;

and, ironically, frightens the sheep by taking up the voice of a predator.

That is why shepherds, just as much as anyone else, need to be reminded that they are also sheep – and that they follow the Good Shepherd.

That there is a wolf hiding within them, too, needing to be confronted by the Good Shepherd.

That the ravine may be the place of death, but that the place of death is the very place where God is at work in and through the Good Shepherd to bring about new life.

*the crook also symbolises commitment to Covenant relationship between the Father and his children, between Jesus and his Bride...

**the club also symbolises commitment to Kingdom responsibility, to drive back the accuser...

The Tyranny Of Chronos

In Greek, there is both chronos – sequential, process, time with length – and kairos – consequential, event, time with depth.  In Greek mythology, Chronos was the Titan, father of the Olympian gods, who devoured his own children until betrayed by his wife and defeated by his son Zeus.  A tyrant.


The other evening Jo and I were with Mark Carey and a number of other friends who meet together once a month as part of our commitment to one another within The Order of Mission.  At some point in the evening, Mark mentioned the tyranny of time – that is, what happens when we misunderstand time with the result that it shifts from being a light yoke to being a heavy burden.


As part of professional or community development, we have become familiar with being asked to make plans – 6-month plans, 12-month plans, 2-year plans, 5-year plans – setting goals we will be measured against in order to be held accountable.  And it is often said that most people over-estimate what they can do in one year, and under-estimate what they can do in five.


There is nothing wrong with making plans, or indeed with setting goals.  The problem comes when chronos, rather than kairos, becomes the driver, becomes the yardstick against which accountability is measured.  We become so focused on delivering our agenda – or meeting someone else’s – that we become deaf and blind to God’s timing.  We set our course, and fail to notice when God says, turn here.


It is much easier to measure what we do within chronos time than it is to measure how often we have responded rightly to kairos times, because this is what we are used to measuring, have grown competent at measuring.  We need to unlearn how we measure time, in order that we might grow in competency at recognising and responding to kairos events.


There comes a kairos when Jesus sets his course towards Jerusalem and sets out on a journey through chronos towards his goal.  But that chronological passage is punctuated by kairos moments Jesus responds to.  In so doing, rather than trying to force circumstances, he makes himself available – whether by exercising agency, as when he opens the eyes of blind beggars on the road outside Jericho; or by surrendering agency, as when he allows the Father to hand him over in the Garden of Gethsemane – for heaven to break into earth through him, at the Father’s prompting.


How, then, might we hold chronos more lightly, while attending more closely to kairos?  One way might be to ask ourselves, each evening:


“Where did I work with Jesus today?” and,


“Where did I resist Jesus today?”


Another way might be to set measureable goals as part of our plan in response to a kairos (to repent involves observation, reflection, and discussion; to believe involves forming a plan, being accountable, and acting in a new way), rather than as a To Have Done By This Date List; taking them seriously but holding them lightly, open to the disruption of other kairos moments (every kairos changes our world, and some more dramatically so than others).

Challenge

(read Invitation first)


What do you do when your life hasn’t turned out the way you thought, the way you hoped?  What do you do when you find yourself in circumstances, day-after-day, that you would not have chosen, that you did not think you had signed-up for?  What do you do when life is...death?


That would be the place we find Jesus’ first disciples in John 20; and not only when Jesus was dead, but also when the risen Jesus appears to them and sends them into the world as – in the same manner, the same pattern, the same mission - the Father sent him.  That would be the place anyone who sets out to be a disciple finds themselves, sooner or later.


In just these circumstances, Jesus extends invitation and challenge to his disciples.


Alongside invitation, Jesus extends challenge.


The challenge to go, to be sent after the model of Jesus (v21): to be sent to die to self, to take up our cross and follow him, in order that God might bring life to others.


That life we didn’t think we had signed-up for...we had.


The challenge to forgive...and to not forgive sins (v23)?  What is that about?  I don’t think it is about withholding forgiveness, but about God’s forgiveness being exercised through Jesus’ disciples; about God’s commitment to partnership with his people; about our responsibility to set people free, because if we don’t, they remain bound.


Sometimes we are wounded simply by circumstances, and sometimes our wounds are self-inflicted, but often we are wounded by other people – or come to believe that we have been wounded by other people, even if we were wounded by circumstances or by ourselves.  Because wounds are inevitable, exercising forgiveness is essential: to loose the chains on others (rather than add to them), and to free ourselves from our own chains.


Finally, the challenge to stop doubting and believe (v27).  By ‘stop doubting,’ Jesus isn’t saying we can’t ask questions, isn’t saying we should suppress unanswered questions with denial.  Denial is never healthy: that is why Jesus does not hide the wounds that have been inflicted on him.  That which we struggle to believe, we need to bring out into the open – again, in a safe place, with trustworthy people – in order that doubt might die and belief have life breathed into it.  It is doubt that is denial: the whispering voice of the accuser telling us that death is the final word, that God will not bring new life out of our present circumstances.


In the hard times, we need those who will hold out hope.  Not candy-floss and kittens, but flesh-and-blood bearing-the-scars Jesus-in-our-midst changing our whole perspective.  Because we do not see him in the physical sense he was seen between his resurrection and ascension, we need to help one another observe his presence, which may not be immediately recognised; to reflect on his woundedness, and discuss the implications for our own wounded lives.  We need to help one another to ‘have life in his name’ (v31), forming a plan to live out that (resurrection) life in our present circumstances, however bleak; and holding one another to account in our response, so that we act in a way consistent to our confession.


What do you do when your life hasn’t turned out the way you thought, the way you hoped?  Whatever you do, don’t try to live it on your own...

Ash Wednesday : Repent And Believe

So Lent begins.

Listen!  Can you hear the whisper?  The whisper inviting you to lose yourself in order to find yourself; to die to false self in order to rise to true self; to be transformed.

To be found in Christ; filled with the Holy Spirit; fathered by God.

This is what you were made for.  And yet it requires a turning away from all other grounds for identity.  Away from self-sufficiency (i.e. I can meet my needs).  Away from ‘celebrity’ status (i.e. you can meet my needs).  Away from ‘political’ power (i.e. I can meet your needs).  To God, your father, who loves you and is pleased with you.

How do we do that?  First, we allow God to reveal to us where our identity is really grounded.  For example, in ‘celebrity’ status.  I don’t mean celebrity like you see in the media; I mean, that thing for which you are known, that thing you do that causes people to praise you.  The person who is known for their delicious cakes; or their successful dinner parties; or their musical talents; or their confidence in public speaking.  There is nothing wrong with doing something well, something well that others respond to with praise.  But something subtle can happen over time: we find ourselves doing this thing because we will be praised, in order to trigger praise, in order to experience the buzz, the high, praise gives us...before the inevitable low that follows, and the need to repeat or even excel our past moments.  A subtle thing, by degrees, perhaps un-noticed – as parents don’t notice the day-by-day growth of their children in the way that friends who see them less frequently do – and so it may be that you will need the help of others to identify where our identity is grounded.  If we are to repent, we must observe, reflect, discuss.

This thing, that God reveals to us as we withdraw a while from the society that fuels our mis-placed identity, is the thing we are invited to ‘give up for Lent.’  Stop doing it; and instead, rediscover that God is your father who loves you and is pleased with you.  Repent, and believe.  And having rediscovered this amazing truth, we can take up that thing again, re-aligned.  We can make our delicious cakes – or host parties or make music or address crowds – not for the praise we might get from others, but as an expression of whom God has made us to be, the unique ways in which he has gifted you...recognising that we might lose sight again, might fall off the path again.  And so, again, don’t do it on your own.  Invite a friend, or friends, you trust to help you plan how you will keep sight, stay on the path – for example, by consciously and publically giving thanks to God for his good gifts when you are praised, neither dishonouring him through wallowing in false modesty nor dishonouring him through revelling in false glory – and hold you accountable by calling you out when your identity begins to send out roots into poor ground.  If we are to believe, we must plan, and give those who help us plan permission to hold us to account in relation to our plan, before we act.

The Circle : Choosing To Learn From Life

‘Lifeshapes’ are a series of tools for discipleship – for helping us to follow Jesus, and to help others to follow Jesus. Recognising that we live in an iconic culture, where brand logos both carry and unlock significant volumes of experience for us – try it: how much information and experience does the Disney logo, or the Apple logo, or the M&S logo recall to your mind? Choose a logo and write a list – they make use of simple iconic shapes to carry and unlock biblical teaching to live by, with a focus on the life and ministry of Jesus. The beauty of iconic symbols is this: that, just as with every new Disney (etc.) release, the reservoir of knowledge their logo carries and unlocks expands; so with every new thing we learn about living as disciples, the reservoir of knowledge the Lifeshapes carries and unlocks for us also expands.

Jesus’ entire ministry is introduced and summarised by the declaration: the time has come: the kingdom of God is at hand: repent and believe. (Mark 1:15)

That is: here is a [kairos] moment, an opportunity, where something of heaven is available to break-in to your day-to-day experience on earth; and the way in which we enter into that experience is through taking-on a change of worldview [repent], and then living-out that new way of being in the world [believe].

That moment can be anything that interrupts or disrupts the flow of our life, big or small, positive or negative; often a change in our circumstances, or our resources in the face of our circumstances. The bus is late, and you find yourself getting agitated; someone you love is diagnosed with cancer, and you feel helpless and scared; your child is born/starts school/leaves home, and your life changes, again; you lose your job – or are promoted at work; celebrate a significant anniversary, or face divorce; are shown a small kindness or a pettiness by a stranger; a friend speaks a word of encouragement, and tears spring from your eyes out of no-where...these are all kairos moments.

Repentance breaks-down into observation, reflection and discussion:

God draws our attention to observe something in the moment, something that may seem trivial or incidental at first (when his disciples are worrying about how they will provide themselves and their dependents with food and clothing, having given up their means of income to follow Jesus, he draws their attention to the birds of the air and the flowers of the field, Matthew 6:25-34); and speaks to us as we reflect on what we have now seen afresh, and as we discuss what we have seen with others: discipleship is not a private, internal matter, but is intended to take place with others: for God uses others to shape us, just as he uses us to shape others.

Likewise, believing is a practical activity that breaks-down into three parts – plan, account, act:

With those we have processed our repentance with, we make a plan for how we are now going to live differently (e.g. rather than worry about lack of resources, we will bring our needs to our heavenly Father, trusting him to provide what we need); and, crucially, we give our friends permission to hold us accountable to the decision we have taken, the plan we have made. With a plan and accountability in place, belief is now acted-out in how we live differently from before as we move on from the kairos moment.

Repentance is about discovering who God is and what he is like, and the implications for us as those who receive his love, his forgiveness, his mercy, his joy, his strength, his peace, his provision, his healing, his guidance, his deliverance...It is about hearing God’s voice day-by-day: and may involve recognition of our unbelief in a given matter (we call this confession); or may simply involve discerning that God is calling us into a new venture (we call this being led by God’s Spirit). Believing is about learning to live in the light of what we have discovered. It is about walking with God day-by-day. The two go hand-in-hand: repentance in one area of our life leads to a belief that brings us to another moment, another opportunity for repentance...and in this way, rather than life being something that happens to us, our life becomes a place where heaven continuously breaks-in to earth: where foretastes of, and signposts to, the future change the now, drawing it closer to the not-yet.