As a child I was brought up in the Protestant wing of the church. It was through that tradition that I first came to learn about Jesus. There was an emphasis on knowing what the Scriptures said about Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit. It was also stressed that this mysterious Godhead could be known personally. A living faith was to be based not only on knowledge but also experience. I am forever grateful for the people that shared their understanding of the Bible and experience of Jesus. Then one day as a teenager head and heart came together. I asked Jesus to be my Lord. It was a pivotal, joyous and world shattering moment. Embarking me on a journey I am still on today.

Later, as an adult, I visited and worked with Christians in some 65 countries. Often their perspectives and backgrounds have been different from mine. My views and maybe even prejudices have been challenged. Occasionally shattered. Things I hold precious may not be so with others. Yet in the midst of all this there was still a sense of unity and purpose. There is something about the Lordship of Jesus that brings people together.

This diversity of perspectives is not only about travel and exposure to other places. It is also found in good books and people who live nearby. Their faith in Jesus can enrich and give vision of the breadth and depth of God’s ways. When I look for devotional or pastoral inspiration I might turn to Catholic writers such as Henri Nouwen or even mystics like Thomas Merton. Such people can speak directly to my wounded and restless heart. Delivering balm to the soul and giving hope and strength for the journey. Wisdom and help can be found outwith the silos of my experience. This is so no matter how much I may treasure my background.

For a time I worked with a homeless charity Emmaus (The Road to Emmaus). My boss was a Catholic priest. Despite our different theological and political views I got on well with him. Working with offenders whilst with Prison Fellowship church or other labels did not seem that relevant ( A bruised reed he will not break ). Most inmates, if they were interested in spiritual things, wanted to know what difference Jesus could make to a messed up life. 

My direct experience of the Orthodox church has been limited to a few occasions. Their intuitive acceptance of the mysterious nature of God has helped when logic and understanding fail. 

In all these various traditions it seems that many wear their heritage proudly. Some hold to them in a dogmatic way.

My hope is in the revelation of God’s will and purposes in the Bible. It is through Scripture I understand God’s love for me. The children’s hymn “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so” is simple but summarises it well. 

Today there are vast resources of theological thought and Biblical interpretations to be mined. Some of these will be filled with wisdom and insight. Nuggets of gold. Others will be of questionable benefit. Discernment is needed. The truth remains that God, His ways and His creation are bigger than attempts to understand. By trying to put Him in a box I limit my potential to see. Intuitively I know that I cannot control God. Yet still I like to grasp. I want to see, feel, touch, hold or otherwise know His presence. Paradoxically the Bible is full of invitations to ‘taste and see’ that God is good. To express our devotion to God in voice and song. In the lifting up of hands and eyes. To bow down in worship. At other times there is the invitation to contemplate the great ‘I AM’ in silence. 

I often evaluate my emotions when trying to bring God into my thoughts. I want to feel good about ‘my time with God’. A need to sense something worthwhile has been accomplished. To tell myself I have been spending ‘quality time’. Despite believing everything from God is gift I stubbornly desire to earn something . The thought recently came that what draws me to ‘spend time with God’ is not my effort or feelings. It is actually God drawing me to Himself. That changes perspective. Could it be that He actually enjoys spending time with me? Do I dare to believe this is so? 

For many, prayer and faith are not the means of doing God’s will, they are the rituals and altars whereby we control our lives. Effective use of them, so we think, enables us to rise above the afflictions and accidents of human existence. And often our use of them is just as magical as the rituals of primitive man.

‘WHEN GOD IS SILENT’ by Ronald Dunn

There is a deep paradox at the heart of Christian experience. As a child I learnt parts of the ‘shorter catechism’. This is a series of short questions and answers compiled nearly 400 years ago. The document seeks to encapsulate some of the core teachings of the Bible. As a tool to instruct children the questions seem very deep to today’s mindset. One of them ponders the grand question  ‘What is God?’. The answer – ‘God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable…” 

I live in a physical, material and finite world. How can I experience One who is spirit. Infinite, eternal and unchangeable? Of myself I cannot. The greatest paradox of all is the incomprehensible news that God became a man and dwelt among us.