They Might be Giants: Finding the Courage to Overcome

It has been quite a summer of sport. It is not over just yet, we are still in July after all. I have enjoyed it immensely, the hopes and dreams and ups and downs, that for most has ultimately ended in disappointment. There have been quite a few underdog stories too. Most of us love an underdog story, probably because it taps into the dream that one day, by some miracle perhaps, we might become victorious.

Before I came to live in this area I knew very little about Urmston and Altrincham. I had heard of Urmston only because of one of the characters from “Dinner Ladies”, that wonderful comedy by Victoria Wood. I only knew of Altrincham from watching the football results and the mythos of their giant killing days in the FA Cup. It has been a great honour to serve the good folk of both places these last 16 years.

Now it was this year’s FA Cup that brought a local giant killing to mind, perhaps the greatest. This was when Non-League Macclesfield Town slayed Premier League Crystal Palace. Crystal Palace were actually the FA Cup defending champions having won it 2025, how the mighty fall. Other examples of minnows defeating or shining against the giants were Cape Verdi in the World Cup, drawing nil-nil with the eventual champions Spain. Cape Verdi did not lose a game in their group and were only beaten by the finalist Argentina in extra time, Argentina had scored an equaliser in injury time of normal time. Now despite a few hiccups the giants did eventually gain victory, the top four ranked teams in the world filled all four semi-final places.

There were two wonderful examples of minnows defeating giants in tennis too. Maja Chwalinska ranked 114 in the world and a wild card reached the French open final. Then the British qualifier Arthur Fery, another a wild card and coincidentally also ranked 114 in the world, reached the semi-final at Wimbledon before succumbing to the giant Alexander Zverev. I remember watching them walk side by side and thinking this truly looks like a David and Goliath rematch as Zverev stands 6 feet and six inches, Arthur Fery is just 5 feet 9 inches tall, almost a foot shorter. Instead of shaft the size of a weaver’s beam, his weapon of choice was his tennis racket.

In such encounters Goliath usually wins, but not always. Sometimes the underdog does win. The small does overcome the giant. Courage can be found if we carry it within our hearts. The 19th century Unitarian minister, Theodore Parker, said, “The arc of the Universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” He believed that there was some deep and powerful force in the Universe that stands behind the weak and the small when they fight against the more powerful. The story of David and Goliath, the little shepherd boy, the runt of his family, the eighth born son, who defeated the most powerful warrior in the world, asks us, “Where would we find such courage?” Sport can be a wonderful metaphor for this, sometimes the mighty do fall and the righteous do indeed overcome.

I am sure we are all familiar with the story of David and Goliath. I know as a child I found it compelling. It made me think that the weak sensitive child that I was would one day stand up to bullying giants of life. I still live with this childlike hope. I know I am not alone.

The story of slaying of the giant Goliath is to be found in the Old Testament book of Samuel. Here is an extract from 2 Samuel Ch 21 v 19

“Then there was another battle with the Philistines at Gob, and …………… killed Goliath the Gittite, the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam.”

Do you know who killed Goliath in 2 Samuel? Say it out loud to yourself.

Well, in the “ Samuel it was someone named “Elhanan son of Jaare-oregim the Bethlehemite”

Here is the full verse: “19 Then there was another battle with the Philistines at Gob, and Elhanan son of Jaare-oregim the Bethlehemite killed Goliath the Gittite, the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam.”

The story of David slaying Goliath is actually found in the 1st Book of Samuel, which describes Goliath there in the following way 1 Samuel Ch 17 vv 4-7

“4 And there came out from the camp of the Philistines a champion named Goliath, of Gath, whose height was four[a] cubits and a span. 5 He had a helmet of bronze on his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail; the weight of the coat was five thousand shekels of bronze. 6 He had greaves of bronze on his legs and a javelin of bronze slung between his shoulders. 7 The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam, and his spear’s head weighed six hundred shekels of iron, and his shield-bearer went before him.”

“The shaft of his spear was like a weaver’s beam”

Now to add to the confusion here is an extract from 1 20 Chronicles, probably written a couple of centuries after the book of Samuel. This section depicts the battles of David and his army at war, including with giants. There are many battles depicted as David was the warrior king.

“5 Again there was war with the Philistines, and Elhanan son of Jair killed Lahmi the brother of Goliath the Gittite, the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam.”

All three accounts use this same description of the shaft of a spear being like “a weaver’s beam”

Confusing isn’t it. How do we make sense of these seeming contradictions.

Biblical scholar Dan McClellan describes the slaying of Goliath as one of the biggest contradictions in the Bible. The Bible in McClellen’s understanding is not a univocal text, meaning it does not speak with one voice, nor should it be viewed this way. Instead, it is a text to be engage with. I am in great sympathy with Dan.

So, who was it who slayed the Giant Goliath, the shaft of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam?

McClellan’s highlights several academic observations that reveal that the account in 2 Samuel of Elhanan of Bethlehem slaying Goliath pre-dates the account of David in 1 Samuel. That as the legend of David grew editors of the Davidic tradition appropriated the heroic feat of Elhanan to build up the myth of David, as the heroic underdog and creating a different kind of giant mythology. He highlights that the account in Chronicles is an attempt to show Elhanan as the slayer of Goliath’s brother Lahmi. By the way there are many accounts of giants being slayed and warriors going into battle. David is viewed as this warrior king who came from nothing to lead armies with ingenuity and skill.

The central claim of McClellan is that these account’s were ways to attempt to build up the legend of David as this little man who through courage and ingenuity slayed the giants. It is a wonderful mythos and like so many heroic figures of human mythology contains truth and exaggeration. In my view knowing this does not down play the idea of courage and guile to allow the small and seemingly weaker overcoming the giant, at least sometimes. Like all heroes such figures are flawed and sometimes their supporters build them up in order enlarge the mythos.

Here Dan McClellan explores the David and Goliath contrdictions.

 
We find our own truth in such tales and this is what matters to me. I wonder who your favourite underdog is, ancient or modern. Mine is probably “Daniel-San” from “The Karate Kid”, a story clearly influenced in part by the story of David and Goliath. Or perhaps Luke in the original Star Wars film “Episode IV” “A New Hope”. Surely Luke destroying the Death Star by finding it’s one vulnerability is another example of the David and Goliath Mythos. Or perhaps Achillies from “The Odyssey”, out now at the movie theatres, is another example. Even the mightiest fall, for they have their weak spots.

I recently listened to a Podcast by Malcolm Gladwell. He was discussing his book “David and Goliath” it takes a very different view to the conventional understanding, highlighting that David’s skill actually put him at an advantage. He highlights that often in war the mightier do not prevail and the righteous more often than we would think can become victorious, not through might, but through guile and skill. He highlights that sometimes our seeming weakness can become our strength. I know myself I was often told that I was overly sensitive as a child and that I would not survive in this world if I didn’t change. There was truth in this. That said I know today that my sensitivity is one of my greatest assets in my life. It just needed to be used in the right way. It turned out to be my stone that slayed my inner Giant. The central theme that Gladwell highlights is that the very thing that puts you at a disadvantage forces you to creatively reinvent the rules of the game to amazing effect. You develop new kinds of skills to compensate for the areas where you are weakest and you approach the world with a fresh kind of offbeat vision. You play a different game and suddenly your powerlessness becomes the very root of your power. It can be disarming, it can be thrilling, it can be wildly successful.

The message at the heart of the life of Jesus teaches this. I don’t mean the mythos developed around him and often the religion built from him, but the radical message he brought. He came to reform his religion to bring it back to the people, but not through power in a conventional sense. Being an ordinary working man it prevented him from doing so in a conventional way, so he followed his own path. He used what he had, he made the most of his simple gifts. He refused conventional status and power and created new terms of success showing how the so called losers became winners and winners became losers. He said “Blessed are the peacemakers.” “Blessed are those that hunger and thirst for righteousness… blessed are the merciful… blessed are the pure in heart…” Jesus taught that success was measured by how loving and compassionate you are. Instead of accumulating wealth and power here, “store up treasure in heaven where moth and vermin do not destroy and where thieves do not break in and steal.” The problem was the worship of other things, such giants actually got in the way, “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” He contested all the social values of his day and invited the people into a different dimension of spiritual living.

Sadly, this is a message that has so often been lost in the religion created in his name and much religion actually. Sadly, too often the worship of other God’s and monster have taken over. Too often, as in the original story, David becomes the Goliath.

Now the David’s and Goliath’s come in many forms; they do not necessarily come in human form; the giants, the monsters, the unsurmountable obstacles incarnate in various ways. It takes faith and hope and courage to overcome them, even if we have failed many times. It is the faith, hope and courage that enables us to stand up and try once again.

Mark Nepo takes an interesting slant on this ancient Mythos. In the “Book of Awakening” he writes about the Goliath’s in life being the towering unsurmountable obstacles that we all face. The impossible dream, the heartbreaking challenges of love and loss such as grief, chronic illness and the personal traumas we all face. Every day I find myself in conversations with folk living through challenges of all kinds, and of finding the faith, hope and courage to overcome their own personal Goliath’s.

Mark Nepo describes his own battles with his own Goliath’s. After surviving a rare form of lymphoma in the 1990s, he emerged with profound insights on suffering, transformation, faith, hope and resilience. These were the equivalent to the five stones that David carefully selected. Nepo was taught the true meaning of courage, of love. He learnt that these seemingly unsurmountable obstacles were not giants or monsters to be slain, but teaches, hard lessons that compel us to strip away the things that do not really matter in life, discover where the true meaning is found and uncover the true courage at the heart of our being. Not in vainglory but as people of faith and hope and love.

We all face our mythological giants in life. I wonder what has been your greatest challenges and how you have walked through them, overcome them. Some of us maybe facing some now. What has carried you through? What were your five selected stones that helped you defeat your Goliath? What stories, mythos helped carry you through? Not what hero fought your battle, but who or what inspired you keep on taking the next step, the one of courage to keep on walking on through.

May we all find the faith, the hope and courage to face what we encounter on our journey through life. May we find the love to encourage one another to keep on, no matter how many times we might fall.

I’m going to end this with this piece.

“My Heart Fights for Those Who Can't Fight” by Sara Sutherland Dean

Someone called me a “bleeding heart liberal.” It was not intended as a compliment. However, I will always consider it one of the biggest compliments of my life.

My heart bleeds for the underdog.
My heart fights for those who can’t fight.
My heart rejoices in seeing others overcome adversity.
My heart desires love and peace for everyone.
My heart is compassionate and empathetic.
My heart sees pain in others and wants to help.
My heart believes in equality.
My heart sees the good in people.
My heart chooses action over fear.

Amen

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

There must be another way — a way to unself just enough to remember each other

It is said that soon after his enlightenment that the Buddha passed a man on the road who was struck by the Buddha's extraordinary radiance and peaceful presence. The man stopped and asked, "My friend, what are you? Are you a celestial being or a god?"

"No," said the Buddha.

"Well, then, are you some kind of magician or wizard?"

Again the Buddha answered, "No."

"Are you a man?" "No."

"Well, my friend, then what are you?"

The Buddha replied, "I am awake"

The Buddha was awake, he was fully conscious to all that is and all that will ever be. He was fully integrated, he did not see himself as separate, well he did not see himself at all.

Now this is not a claim I would or could make about myself. I can be self conscious at times, aware of my short comings and frustrations. I more liberate from this than when I was younger. Some days I feel free and others I can get caught up in my shortcomings.

As a child I was very self conscious about the way I moved. This became excruciating as a teenager. I was born some of the nerve endings at the base of my spine underdeveloped. It was something akin to a less severe form of spina bifida. As a child I had to frequently go for physiotherapy and there was a period when I was not allowed to engage in any sport. I hated the feeling it engendered in me as I looked at the other kids running around in the playground, knowing I wasn’t allowed to join in.

It was a few years later when the pain really hit me though, in my mid to later teens when I was painfully aware of the way I walked. I waddled when I moved, I still do now. I remember walking down the street of the town I grew up in and whenever I saw someone walking towards me, especially teenage girls, I would stand up straight and attempt to push my feet inwards in the vain hope that they wouldn’t think that there was something wrong with me. I must have looked a right sight.

I was just so terribly self-consciousness, locked in on what I believed was wrong with me. As I look back now’ I’m not wholly convinced that the problem was my perceived physical imperfections. I suspect that if I’d been born without this physical difficulty the problem would have manifested in other areas of my life. The problem was the self-consciousness, I was locked in myself and therefore not fully conscious, I was separate and felt alone.

One thing I’ve learnt over the years is that I am not alone in this. So many suffer from self-consciousness, feel lost, lonely and cut off because they are locked in what they believe is wrong with them. Sometimes it is harder to see what is right, than what is wrong. This is a deeply lonely, isolated, way to be.

Socrates said that “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Now while not wishing to argue with the great philosopher I do wonder if the “over examined life” can prove just as worthless. It is so easy to get lost in oneself, wrapped up in our own underwear to such an extent that we do not live at all. We can become so self-conscious that we fail to become conscious of all that is and all that as ever been. It is so easy to become wrapped up in our own perceived needs that we fail to live in the world with others and then complain about feeling lonely. Yes it is important to examine ourselves, to understand who we are and what makes us tick, but that should not be an end in itself, a destination. It is a staging post in the spiritual adventure, but not an end in itself.

I have had several conversations with people recently who have been struggling with severe self-consciously, manifesting as pride. Bruce Lee observed "the core of pride is self-rejection" and Agnes Martin knew when she cautioned that pride destroys freedom, joy and creativity. The ancient Greeks had a word for the ultimate self-consciousness “hubris”; the most destructive form of pride; a pride that puts yourself at the centre of the universe. This strange and terrible kind of total self-consciousness invariably ends in self-annihilation. Think of Narcissus who was so locked into his own reflection that he drowned. The great writers of tradgedy have always understood this, from Sophocles to Shakespeare. We witness it in the monsters of history and some world leaders of our age.

One antidote to such destructiveness is to live creatively. Madeleine L’Engle wrote on this:

“Creativity is an act of discovering. The very small child, the baby, is still unself-conscious enough to take joy in discovering himself: he discovers his fingers; he gives them his complete, unself-conscious concentration.”

Continuing…

“The kind of unself-consciousness I’m thinking about becomes clearer to me when I turn to a different discipline: for instance, that of playing a Bach fugue at the piano, precisely because I will never be a good enough pianist to play a Bach fugue as it should be played. But when I am actually sitting at the piano, all there is for me is the music. I am wholly in it, unless I fumble so badly that I perforce become self-conscious. Mostly, no matter how inadequate my playing, the music is all that matters: I am outside time, outside self, in play, in joy. When we can play with the unself-conscious concentration of a child, this is: art: prayer: love.”

I think we all have activities that make us feel free. Free to be ourselves and be part of something more than our mere selves and part of something larger. I know I am when I sing freely. When I feel confident and comfortable enough with a piece of music. I can express myself freely, but freely as a part of something more than myself.

When I feel free in song I embody those words of Maria Popova:

“There must be another way — a way to unself just enough to remember each other, to grow a little more awake to this world that shimmers with wonder, of which any one self is only a fleck.”

When singing I unself just enough to feel fully part of the “Musica Universalis”, I feel a little more awake in the world that shimmers, I am one self in an incredible interconnected universe.

Negative self absorption keeps us separate, locked into all that is wrong with ourselves or all that is wrong with the world. When you look at your own reflection in the mirror, what do you see? Do you see someone that you love? Do you see who you really are? While we may see ourselves warts and all, how many of us see the beauty spots too? The self-absorption that most people I come into contact with suffer from, tends to be a deeply ingrained negative type. The preoccupation is often with what is wrong with them, with their shame, rather than how wonderful they are. Also the pride is in worrying what people think of them, that someone might just see their flaws and reject them.

This kind of self-consciousness can become so consuming that it takes over our human interactions. I wonder how many of us suffer from this kind of commentary when we meet up with people. “What will they think of me?” “How do I look?” “If I say something, will they think I’m an idiot?” and then as it continues, “He gave me a funny look, he must have thought me a fool. Why on earth did I have to make that stupid remark? Gosh I’m such a freak, they all seem to be staring at me.”

This kind of inner dialogue can be so crippling. It can haunt us from the moment we wake and continue throughout our day, eating away at our every decision. Oh and of course because we doubt ourselves and every decision we make, we assume that everyone else must be doing exactly the same thing. This kind of self-consciousness can be so crippling and it blocks us off almost entirely from the world around us. We can be consumed by this kind of self-consciousness we see the world from our own point of view and it aint a pretty one.

So what can we do about it? How do we wake up to a greater consciousness? How do we break free from this crippling self-consciousness?

In the Gospel’s Jesus taught his followers that they must lose themselves in order to be found. That by emptying ourselves of our self-absorption we begin to be filled with the spirit of neighbourliness. So that when we look deeply into the still waters we are not drawn in by narcissistic self-consciousness and loathing at our own reflection, but rather into a deeper contemplation of our shared lives. We become conscious of all that is, all that has been and all that will ever be. By opening ourselves to and for others we begin to shed that debilitating skin of self-consciousness that is so easy to become imprisoned in.

Gandhi said “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in service of others”

The Buddha talked of Nirvana, of being freed from the suffering that was the blight of humanity. He showed that we all suffered and that it was in seeing our suffering as individual that led to this sense of separation. He suggested that we needed to break through our suffering not only to serve others but to reach a higher state of being, true consciousness, to be awake.

Now please don’t get me wrong I am not suggesting that we do not need to know ourselves to understand how we tick. All I am saying is that we must not get stuck there, we must not get lost there and we must not see this as a destination, more a staging post on the journey. The adolescent stage I suspect. Sadly, for many folk, me included, this adolescent stage often goes well into adulthood.

I remember another antidote that probably fuels creativity suggested in Forrest Church’s “Lifecraft”, a book suggesting ways to make life an act of creation, a way to move from self-consciousness to consciousness. He offered three simple suggestions, which he called the three “E’s”, “empathy”, “ecstasy” and “enthusiasm”. The key he claimed could be found in the literal understanding of these words. “Empathy”, to suffer or feel with another; “Ecstasy”, to stand outside ourselves; “Enthusiasm”, to manifest the god (theos) within us.

Empathy is a deep felt compassion. When we open our hearts empathically to another we are courageously refusing to allow self-consciousness to stand in the way of a higher consciousness that comes into being as we feel what another is going through. In so doing we serve both ourselves and the other person, as well as that higher consciousness beyond our singular selves.

Now ecstasy has often been misunderstood as some kind of hedonistic state and therefore self- indulgent, it is far from this. In its truest sense what it actually does is takes us out of ourselves and lifts us beyond the confines of ourselves. In so doing we transcend our self-consciousness and enter a realm in which purpose begins to emerge and meaning is found.

Enthusiasm means to be filled with spirit, with holy energy. Enthusiasm allows us to be fully involved and engaged in whatever it is we are doing. It allows us to see beyond the confines we have created. Forrest himself states that “Here, once again, consciousness displaces self-consciousness. We escape from our mirrored room. Its mirrors turn into windows. Or the pond grows so still that we can see beyond our own reflection to the trees and clouds and birds and sun. There is, by the way, no higher form of spiritual practice. When we step out of our own shadow, consciousness replaces self-consciousness.”

In so doing we are set free to walk with others in our own faltering ways. Instead of being lost in what we believe is wrong with us we are set free to do what we can in this our shared world and in so doing we encourage others to do the same, as perfectly imperfect children of God.

For me the purpose of the spiritual life is to develop a deepening sense of connection. We all have our troubles and our worries either within ourselves, those around us or wider world. We need to see them for what they are, we need to acknowledge the truth, but we must not get stuck there, for that will paralyse us and stop us doing what we can. We cannot change the way the world is but that need not prevent us from doing what we can do and in doing so we will grow spiritually as we become integrated into all that has been, all that exists and all that will ever be.

As a kind of conclusion I’d like to leave you with one final thought. I think that so much of modern spiritually gets it wrong because it is seeking the wrong thing. There is so much talk of finding ourselves, when in actual fact what we ought to be doing is losing ourselves. What we ought to be striving for, I believe, is integration and remove those aspects within ourselves that block this. We all ask the question “Who am I?” when really we ought to asking is “How am I doing? And if we are still feeling utterly dis-connected we need to ask why? And how can I integrate once again? You see if we can begin to integrate with all that is, all that has been and all that has ever been we begin to truly cohere. In doing so we transcend our self-consciousness and become conscious. We become spiritually mature. We become like the Buddha, awake.

So how conscious are you today? Are you truly awake?

If not. I have found a way to unself just enough so that we remember each other, to remember we are part of something wonderful and greater than our little selves. To feel a little more awake in this world that shimmers. To know that our single selves are just a fleck, but a vital part of the “Musica Universalis”

“There must be another way — a way to unself just enough to remember each other”

Please find below a devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

 

A Never-Ending Story: Beginning, Middle and End?

Forrest Church claimed that ”religion is our human response to being alive and having to die”.

We human beings are meaning makers. One way we try to make sense of it all, to find meaning, is through story. Religion at it’s best is about telling stories. Our personal stories and our stories about we as a people.

Our lives are made up of all kinds of stories, that tell us who we are. We connect with one another through the telling of these stories. We all have our stories and we love to hear stories. Stories come in a variety of form too. Poetry is often a kind of story. A good poet will see something and tell us a story through the art of poetry.

Here is wonderful example by Billy Collins, on the art of storytelling through poetry, “Aristotle”.

“Aristotle” by Billy Collins

This is the beginning.
Almost anything can happen.
This is where you find
the creation of light, a fish wriggling onto land,
the first word of Paradise Lost on an empty page.
Think of an egg, the letter A,
a woman ironing on a bare stage
as the heavy curtain rises.
This is the very beginning.
The first-person narrator introduces himself,
tells us about his lineage.
The mezzo-soprano stands in the wings.
Here the climbers are studying a map
or pulling on their long woolen socks.
This is early on, years before the Ark, dawn.
The profile of an animal is being smeared
on the wall of a cave,
and you have not yet learned to crawl.
This is the opening, the gambit,
a pawn moving forward an inch.
This is your first night with her,
your first night without her.
This is the first part
where the wheels begin to turn,
where the elevator begins its ascent,
before the doors lurch apart.

This is the middle.
Things have had time to get complicated,
messy, really. Nothing is simple anymore.
Cities have sprouted up along the rivers
teeming with people at cross-purposes—
a million schemes, a million wild looks.
Disappointment unshoulders his knapsack
here and pitches his ragged tent.
This is the sticky part where the plot congeals,
where the action suddenly reverses
or swerves off in an outrageous direction.
Here the narrator devotes a long paragraph
to why Miriam does not want Edward's child.
Someone hides a letter under a pillow.
Here the aria rises to a pitch,
a song of betrayal, salted with revenge.
And the climbing party is stuck on a ledge
halfway up the mountain.
This is the bridge, the painful modulation.
This is the thick of things.
So much is crowded into the middle—
the guitars of Spain, piles of ripe avocados,
Russian uniforms, noisy parties,
lakeside kisses, arguments heard through a wall—
too much to name, too much to think about.

And this is the end,
the car running out of road,
the river losing its name in an ocean,
the long nose of the photographed horse
touching the white electronic line.
This is the colophon, the last elephant in the parade,
the empty wheelchair,
and pigeons floating down in the evening.
Here the stage is littered with bodies,
the narrator leads the characters to their cells,
and the climbers are in their graves.
t is me hitting the period
and you closing the book.
It is Sylvia Plath in the kitchen
and St. Clement with an anchor around his neck.
This is the final bit
thinning away to nothing.
This is the end, according to Aristotle,
what we have all been waiting for,
what everything comes down to,
the destination we cannot help imagining,
a streak of light in the sky,
a hat on a peg, and outside the cabin, falling leaves.

Way, way before the Jospeh Campbell outlined the eleven stages of the “Heroes Journey” and the wonderful Kurt Vonnegut illustrated the shape of stories, with practical beauty and humour, it was Aristotle who formulated the notion that a story must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Now of course we clever people who live today would say, well obviously. That said what goes without saying today, had to be said by someone in the first place and then repeated over and over again, just like any good story. The best stories are not heard the once, they are repeated again and again and again.

Phil Cousineau believes that stories save our souls. In “The Oldest Story in the World: A Mosaic of Meditations on the Secret Strength of Stories” he observed that this much he knew:

"Every day we have at least one gut-check moment. Every day we are asked, 'Do you want to hear a story?' A hundred times a day our deeper life awaits our signal that, yes, we are listening. Whether we are camped around a fire on the Comanche Moon trail, sitting in the literary salons of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas on the Rue des Fleurs in Paris, craning our necks during a Hollywood studio script meeting, cosseting our children by reading out loud to them from the great round of Harry Potter adventures, or trading old baseball stories in the stands with old teammates, we are responding to the blue longing in our restless souls to be carried away by the kind of story that makes life worth living.”

Our lives are made up of stories. This is what we do. We tell and we listen to stories. As the poet Muriel Rukeyser remarked 'The world is made up of stories, not atoms.'

Stories are not fact, they are not history, they are “Mythos”. They reveal a deeper universal “truth” that all people can connect to regardless of time and place. Mythos reveals a deeper “truth” about the human condition and nature of reality. They help us engage in the conversational nature of existence. A story is a deep conversation with life that enables us to connect more deeply to the meaning in life. Even good history is really about the telling of stories, it is not just prosaic fact. History comes alive by the telling of the stories within the events

Stories and story-telling have been distilling wisdom throughout the generations and I have no doubt that this will continue on into eternity. Yes, a good story has a beginning, a middle and end, Aristotle revealed this truth. The absolute truth is that as story ends, it goes on, it begins again. As Limahl sang it’s a “Neverending Story”.

Here is a never-ending story. It is taken from “Concentration and Compassion: More Stories from the World’s Spiritual Traditions” by my friend and retired colleague Rev Bill Darlison. It goes by the title

“The Endless Story”

In the Far East there was a great king called Calapha who had no work to do. Every day, and all day long, he sat on soft cushions and listened to stories. And no matter what the story was about, he never grew tired of hearing it, even though it was very long. “There is only one fault that I find with your story,” he often said: ‘It is too short.’

All the story-tellers in the world were invited to his palace, and some of them told tales that were very long indeed. But the king was always sad when a story was ended.

At last he sent word into every city and town and country place, offering a prize to anyone who should tell him and endless tale. He said, ‘To the man that will tell me a story which shall last forever, I will give Zaidee, my fairest daughter, for his wife; and I will make him my heir, and he shall be king after me.’

But this was not all. He added a very hard condition. “If any man shall try to tell such a story, and then fail, he shall have his head cut off.’

Zaidee was very pretty, and there were many young men in that country who were willing to do anything to win her. But none of them wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few tried for the prize.

One young man invented a story that lasted three months, but at the end of that time, he could think of nothing more. His fate was a warning to others, and it was a long time before another story-teller was so rash as to try the king’s patience.

But one day a stranger from the South came into the palace.
‘Great king,’ he said, ‘is it true that you offer a prize to the man who can tell a story that has no end?’
‘It is true,; said the king.
‘And shall this man have your fairest daughter for his wife, and shall he be your heir?’
‘Yes, if he succeeds,’ said the king. ‘But if he fails, he shall lose his head.’
‘Very well, then,’ said the stranger. ‘I have a pleasant story about locusts which I would like to relate.’
‘Tell it’ said the king. ‘I will listen to you.’
The story teller began his tale. ‘Once upon a time a certain king seized upon all the corn in his country, and stored it away in a strong granary. But a storm of locusts came over the land and saw where the grain had been put. After searching for many days they found on the east side of the granary a crevice that was just large enough for one locust to pass through at a time. So one locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.’
Day after day, week after week, the man kept on saying, ‘Then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn.’
A month passed; a year passed. At the end of two years, the king said, ‘How much longer will the locust be going in and carrying away corn?’
‘O king! Said the story-teller, ‘they have as yet cleared only one small corner; and there are millions more grains of corn in the granary.’
‘Stop, Stop!’ cried the king, ‘You will drive me mad. I can listen to it no longer. Take my daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do not let me hear another word about those horrible locusts!’
And so the strange story-teller married Princess Zaidee, and he lived happily ever after in the land for many years. But his father-in-law, the king, had had enough of the endless stories.

One of my great pleasures is listening to people’s stories. I mentioned last week that I listened to 105 year old man tell his story. It was a beautiful experience as he spoke so eloquently, for 45 minutes, about his 70 years of recovery. He talked about many trials and tribulations as well as loves and joys he had experienced in such a long life. He spoke mainly about love and forgiveness. There seemed not a hint of regret and or pity in his voice. He shone like a light and had the most amazing skin. If you could manufacture what he had as a beauty company you would make a fortune. You cannot though. The feeling I got was of a man still looking forward to whatever story he still had to live. His story will one day end, but not just yet.

I was invited to share my story the other day. Afterwards a young man approached me and said he had heard my story before, even though we had ever met. As he listened to me he said he had heard my story before. Here was three years later a new person to recovery and heard my story from my moth. Apparently what he had heard had stayed with him and eventually prompted him to act. We came together that day and he heard and connected with it. I could have wept, but instead I just simply smiled.

Here is a classic parable from the New Testament on “Love and Forgiveness”, from Luke’s Gospel Chapter 15 vv 11-32

The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother

11 Then Jesus[a] said, “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the wealth that will belong to me.’ So he divided his assets between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant region, and there he squandered his wealth in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that region, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that region, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled his stomach[b] with the pods that the pigs were eating, and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to his senses he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ’ 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’[c] 22 But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate, 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

25 “Now his elder son was in the field, and as he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has got him back safe and sound.’ 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your assets with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31 Then the father[d] said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

The great sages like Jesus and the Buddha excelled in storytelling. They knew how to relate to and reach people, that a story could open them up, that it could put flesh on the word. Shaman and elders of other traditions shared this wisdom, as they told their tales around the campfires and gatherings. They drew their listeners to deeper visions of life with imagery and symbolism. The storyteller has always been with us and is with us today. Today everyone is a story teller. On social media we have our stories, they are designed to be shared. Like all classic tales, these stories are an interesting mixture of the good and bad, the negative and the positive, the light and dark.

The old stories were not just entertainment, they were trying to teach something about the nature of humanity and life itself, they had a kind of morality about them, an ethic a meaning,. Some say that today this narrative has almost disappeared.

Post-modernism would claim that today there is no longer one narrative. The French philosopher Jean-Francois Lyotard has defined post-modernism as ‘the death of metanarrative’. He claimed that we no longer have nor need the big stories ‘that tell us who we are, where we come from, and what we are called to do.’

Personally, I am not convinced by this argument as I do see universal qualities in all these tales. Whether it’s the one I hear from friends and family, or the one I see on the big screen, or the one I read in some ancient text. The stories may be told in different ways but they still connect us with one another through time and space. They do more than connect us though, they heal us, they renew us and spur us on to greater things. Regardless of when they were first told and by who they still have the capacity to tell us who we are, where we come from and what we are called to do.

Here's a favourite story from my favourite character, someone I can relate to.

“One afternoon, Nasruddin and his friend were sitting in a cafe, drinking tea and talking about life and love. His friend asked: ‘How come you never married?’

‘Well,’ said Nasruddin, ‘to tell you the truth, I spent my youth looking for the perfect woman. In Cairo I met a beautiful and intelligent woman, but she was unkind. Then in Baghdad, I met a woman who was a wonderful and generous soul, but we had no common interests. One woman after another would seem just right, but there would always be something missing. Then one day, I met her; beautiful, intelligent, generous and kind. We had very much in common. In fact, she was perfect!’

‘So, what happened?’ asked Nasruddin’s friend, ‘Why didn’t you marry her?’

Nasruddin sipped his tea reflectively. ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘it’s really the sad story of my life…. It seemed that she was looking for the perfect man…’ “

I love Nasruddin, the holy fool. You will find characters like him in most cultures. Through humour they reveal deep truths, ones that are too often hidden.

Humour is something that helps us through the great trials of life. Many of the great stories have laughter and humour within them. Sadly humour can be absent in the spiritual life, it ought not to be. There is something lacking in a spirituality that takes itself too seriously. The spiritual life can at times be perceived as an arid and serious world, utterly devoid of humour and lightness. Many of us look at the spiritual, the religious life, as if were a dose of rather distasteful medicine. We may well see the benefits of it, but aren’t sure we would like the way it tastes. We are frightened that it might actually reduce our experience of life. We can easily become too intense and earnest in our approach to spirituality; by doing so we can view laughter as sacrilegious and end up apologising for the freedom that it can breed. We should never apologise for experiencing joy and laughter. The spiritual life needs humour. There is humour in the ancient tales, so surely there is a place for it in our age. There is always room for Divine humour. “Life is too serious to be taken too seriously.”

As we come towards the end of this adventure in story I wonder what your story is. What is the story that speaks to you and of you? Where do you find yourself, what gives you the permission to simply be? What is your favourite story. Here is one of mine:

It comes from "Have a Little Faith" by Mitch Albom.

“A man seeks employment on a farm. He hands his letter of recommendation to his new employer. It reads simply, `He sleeps in a storm.’

The owner is desperate for help, so he hires the man.

Several week pass, and suddenly, in the middle of the night, a powerful storm rips through the valley.
Awakened by the swirling rain and howling wind, the owner leaps out of bed. He calls for his new hired hand, but the man is sleeping soundly.

So he dashes off to the barn. He sees, to his amazement, that the animals are secure with plenty of feed. He runs out to the field. He sees the bales of wheat have been bound and are wrapped in tarpaulins. He races to the silo. The doors are latched, and the grain is dry.

And then he understands.

`He sleeps in a storm.’

My friends, if we tend to the things that are important in life, if we are right with those we love and behave in line with our [beliefs], our lives will not be cursed with the aching throb of unfulfilled business. Our words will always be sincere, our embraces will be tight. We will never wallow in the agony of `I could have, I should have.’ We can sleep in a storm.

And when it’s time, our good-byes will be complete.”

In “Crow and Weasel” Barry Lopez said

“The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.”

I will continue to listen to the stories and when they come to me I will nurture them, I will take care of them and I will continue to give them away, we all need them. I ask that you do the same, because by doing so we will better take care of ourselves.

I will continue telling the tale and I will listen as you tell yours. For the story goes on and on. The story is never ending.

So I will leave you with a question to ponder. What is your story? What is the story that speaks to you and of you?

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

Do Not Regret the Road Not Taken

Unitarian college, the students and tutors have a lot to answer for. No, I don’t just mean Peter the ministry student who is currently with us or Janine who was with us in the recent past. I am speaking of something completely different. Three years ago I was invited to attended “Ministry in the Making” as part of the leadership team. Molly accompanied me of course. She worked her magic and they insist that she is always there. She is becoming something akin to “The Guru’s Cat”. I am allowed to accompany her it seems. It has been a great experience for all, but has led to one or two ongoing problems. One of the tutors and some of the students turned Molly into someone who thinks she can take cuddly toys. It has cost me a few quid over the years. When we first went they encouraged her to take one of the toys that are there in the chapel for “Send a Child to Hucklow”. This developed into a habit whenever we went into shops. She no longer does so, but she will pick up anything that is on the streets of Altrincham and bring it home. She shares more than black and white markings with magpies it would seem. Invariably when I take her for a walk she comes home with all sorts. The other day she took a toy octopus that was in the doorway of a charity shop. I had to go back later with a donation, not that anyone would have known. Taking Molly for a walk can be very interesting indeed. She never regrets the path we choose and nor do I. it is never dull.

The other morning, while we were out walking, I received a voice message from a friend who had watched my last YouTube devotion, titled “A Blizzard of Blossom: Beauty Awakens the Soul to Act”. It had moved them greatly. One of the things they shared with me was very pertinent to the lives of themself, Oliver and myself. They spoke of Oliver’s poem and how he had been “taken” to a place of grief”. It was the word “taken” that really spoke to my friend. They themselves had been taken on a quest whilst on retreat. Their spiritual teacher used the word “taken”, in the context of taking your seat in meditation, a willingness to create a spaciousness and to be taken where ever we might need to go. They continued that knowing that they are not in control brings a sense of relief that the journey is about being available to being taken, wherever that may lead.

This all got me thinking about how we are often taken or perhaps take journey’s throughout our lives. To take and or be taken has multiple meanings in our lives. We take a walk, a nap, a drink. We take exams and bus rides. We take our medicines and we take a joke or not. We are taken too in so many different ways. It is the journeys that we take and do not take, or perhaps are taken on or not taken on that got me thinking. My friend talked about being taken on a spiritual journey by simply taking their seat in meditation. This sounds like an act of surrender, but not passively so. It is they who choose to take their seat in meditation. I get a strong sense that they are not regretting going on this journey.

This got me thinking about the journeys we take and do not take throughout our lives. I also wonder how much we choose these journeys and how much we are taken on them. Who knows. I wonder what regret we experience about the journeys we take and do not take. How do we discern the journey we take or get taken on? Does it actually matter? Is it about taking or not taking the right road? Or is it actually about how we take or are taken on our journey? Maybe it is not so much about the path we follow, but the path we make. The mark we make on life. This is beautifully illustrated in following by Antonio Machado from “The Soul Is Here for Its Own Joy” translated by Robert Bly.

You walking, your footprints are
the road, and nothing else;
there is no road, walker,
you make the road by walking.
By walking you make the road,
and when you look backward,
you see the path that you
never will step on again.
Walker, there is no road,
only wind-trails in the sea.

Now of course taking or not taking a road reminds me of one of the best known poems of the 20th century “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. The poem is often celebrated as being a triumph of personal freedom and autonomy, of taking the most difficult path and this making all the difference. It is often mistakenly called “The Road Less Travelled” named after one of its lines, “and I took the road less travelled by and it’s made all the difference. I noticed Nick reading from “The Road Less Travelled” by M. Scott Peck during “Living the Questions” the other evening. A wonderful book, although its title is referencing a common misunderstanding of the poem.

The truth about the poem is that it is was written for a fellow poet friend of Frost’s called Edward Thomas. Frost it seems was taking (The proverbial) out his friend. He was gently mocking his friend. It seems that Thomas was an indecisive man and when he and Frost were out walking Thomas would always look back at the end of the day and regret which ever path they didn’t follow. He seemed to ruin is own enjoyment. Maybe his was the first example of what people today name “FOMO” (Fear of Missing Out). Frost himself experienced some regret as the poem has been taken so very seriously and yet its intention was one of light hearted humour. Even the final line and sigh were meant to be mocking his friend who would over dramatize his regret of the journey they had taken. What Frost was suggesting is that it didn’t matter which path they took. Frost and his wife when out walking would often toss a coin when meeting such forks in the road. They would follow which ever way the coin suggested. They enjoyed the walk. That was the point.

Anyway here is the poem

“The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

It seems we have been reading this poem wrongly ever since and it has made no real difference.

So perhaps there is a different lesson to learn about the roads we take or are taken on. The paths we tread or choose to follow. Maybe it’s not that important what path we take or don’t take. Maybe what really matters is how we travel and who we travel with. Maybe what matters is to accept the invitation and make the most of what we take and who we meet and opportunities that come our way. What matters the most I suspect is not to live in and by regret for whatever path we do or do not take. We make the road as we walk on, which ever way we turn.

Again to repeat those words by Antonio Machado

You walking, your footprints are
the road, and nothing else;
there is no road, walker,
you make the road by walking.
By walking you make the road,
and when you look backward,
you see the path that you
never will step on again.
Walker, there is no road,
only wind-trails in the sea.

Do not regret the road you have taken, instead take what is offered before you. Keep on taking the next step, even if you have got it wrong a thousand times before. As Rumi wrote:

“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come.”

Jelaluddin Rumi

I love the line that is sometimes edited out of this verse, “It doesn’t matter, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.” Who amongst us has not fallen short of what they had hoped to be, who hasn’t broken their vows so many times? Who does not live with regret for the things they have done in life, or failed to have done in life? I know I have. Only Frank Sinatra it seems lived without regret, well along with Edif Piaf and Robbie Williams. We must not though let the regret destroy us and ruin the journey we will continue to take, as it did for Robert Frost’s friend Edwards Thomas.

Regret is an interesting word, it is in itself a lament, from the Old French word ‘regreter”, meaning “one who bewails the dead,” which comes from a Germanic root meaning “to greet.” As Mark Nepo has said of regret “We always face these two phases of regret: to bewail what is dead and gone, and, if we can move through that grief, to greet the chance to do things differently as we move on.”

Nepo notes something of real value here, it is a lesson from grief. Yes, regret is a lament for what has gone, what has died, but if we greet it fully with love we can learn from the past and do things differently in the future. The response to regret is both of life and death. The choice is ours. By the way this is the one choice we have in life. We do not choose what happens to us but we can choose how we respond to what happens to us. This is the one ultimate freedom, that is open to all of us.

To quote Viktor Frankl:

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

So our response to regret is ours. We can either choose life or death. We can close in and shut down or we can create with love.

This freedom cannot be taken from us. We can choose life and continue on, instead of constantly lamenting the path we have taken or the one we haven’t..

There are two interesting examples of responses to regret within the New Testament. They are found within the Easter story, following Jesus’s betrayal. Luke’s (Ch22 vv 60-62) Gospel depicts Peter regretting his betrayal of Jesus. He wept bitterly for his fear based denial and yet how did he respond. Well it was on Peter that the earlier Christian Church was built. For Peter Hope was once again born. Matthew (Ch 27 vv 3-5) depicts a very different response to regret that of Judas Iscariot.

I have regrets about some of roads I have taken, as well as those I have allowed others to take me down too. No doubt I will make many more mistakes later on. I cannot afford to live in such regret. To spend my days agonising over it, as Edward Thomas did. This is oh so life denying. It will stop me building, creating and sharing something as I journey on. We have the freedom to make something of the journey we are on. Even if that is just sharing some wisdom from our own journey.

Last week I had privilege of being invited to listen to a man speak of his powerful journey. It was on Zoom as he was in America. He was 105 years old and he talked so eloquently and beautifully about his 70 years of recovery. He spoke for about 45 minutes. He talked about many trials and tribulations as well as loves and joys he had experienced in such a long life. He spoke mainly about love and forgiveness. There seemed not a hint of regret and or pity in his voice. He shone like a light and had the most amazing skin. If you could manufacture what he had as a beauty company you would make a fortune. You cannot though. He did not seem to regret the path he had taken or the one he had not taken.

So, let’s not sigh about the road we have and have not taken. Let’s not die in regret, let’s instead live in possibility. Let’s journey on in love, begin again in love, even if we have fallen short a thousand times. We need not be paralysed lamenting the past, nor do we need to close the door on it. Let us instead move through the grief of regret and greet the future with its possibility of what might yet be.

Let us keep on making the road, by taking the next step forward and share it with whom ever wishes to journey with us.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "Blogspot"

A Blizzard of Blossom: Beauty Awakens the Soul to Act

I was watching the cherry blossom falling the other day. It was blowing in the wind around the wind telephone, designed to connect the living with those at the other side of the breath of life. There is a message on the telephone quoting Bob Dylan, “the answer is blowing in the wind”. I saw pink snowing blowing so beautifully around the gardens, while Molly was zooming around, sniffing all the new life. It looked so beautiful, it awakened the heart of my mind and got me thinking about the things we see, in our ordinary lives, when we lift up our eyes, our vision, when we live in hope, not expectation or optimism. When we are inspired by beauty. When my eyes are open and my mind isn't trapped in some disappointment from the past, my own or that done by others, or when I am not blinded by some fear of what might or might not be. When the eyes of eyes are awake I feel so alive and I have vision. I see what is so easy to miss.

As I watched it all I was reminded of this lovely poem “Vision” by May Thielgaard Watts

"Vision" by May Thielgaard Watts

To-day there have been lovely things
I never saw before;
Sunlight through a jar of marmalade;
A blue gate;
A rainbow
In soapsuds on dishwater;
Candlelight on butter;
The crinkled smile of a little girl
Who had new shoes with tassels;
A chickadee on a thorn-apple;
Empurpled mud under a willow,
Where white geese slept;
White ruffled curtains sifting moonlight
On the scrubbed kitchen floor;
The under side of a white-oak leaf;
Ruts in the road at sunset;
An egg yolk in a blue bowl.
My love kissed my eyes last night.

What a beautiful poem, isn't it lovely. When we live in heart, in courage, in love, we can see these signs of hope everywhere. It comes in the little things, that I think of and share upon awakening each morning. Such beauty compels me to act. It is vital to keep our senses open, despite our fears and worries, despite what troubles us. We must keep our senses open, in order to see things. In order to blessed by beauty and to act from it.

“Beauty awakens the soul to act”, said Dante. Well this is exactly what happened to the local poet and friend of the congregations Oliver James Lomax the other day, as he sat in the chapel gardens and wrote the poem which follows. He said he was looking at one of the Cherry Blossom trees in the chapel garden, and noticed “a blizzard of blossom falling from it, dancing in the low wind, it looked like it was almost shedding its memory. It transported me back to the day my Nan passed away from vascular dementia, there was a blossom tree just like it outside the Palliative Care Ward, also rather joyously, there was also a small boy trying to catch Pokemon in the corridor as I left her for the last time. This poem sits between those two images, a moment that brought a little peace and hope to my grief.”

Here’s the poem. I am sorry you can’t hear it in Oliver’s voice:

“To The Boy Catching Pokémon On The Palliative Care Ward” by Oliver James Lomax

The day nan died
the blossom tree was a blizzard

of gentle data
a white drift of unkept names

shifting like a small god
in the hospital garden.

Mine is, a god of flux
today he is a boy

catching Pokémon in the corridor
his hand consecrates the air

drawing a circle in time
where nothing consents to remain.

I watch from the threshold
of what has already gone,

how often will I
cast into the invisible?

For that glamour and strength
for the colour of her being,

drag the unseen closer
as if it might answer.

The blossom keeps falling
into itself, onto itself

a paper rain blinding the page
where the light

I’m trying to capture and name
cannot remain.

Beauty awakened Oliver’s soul to act and he shared this poem as a result of the awakening.

I just love how the beauty of the falling blossom, blowing up in the wind like a pink blizzard, took Oliver back to a time in his life and awakened something in him, something that brought healing to his soul, but also inspired his soul to act and write there and then. By the end of the day he sent me his poem. His poem inspired the service this devotion is based on, as did so many other things and people. The beauty in many forms inspired our souls to act. The answer was most certainly blowing in the wind that day.

I was awakened by beauty that day. I found myself engaged in several rather beautiful conversations. One was with the beautifully pregnant Rose our choir leader. She told me that she and her husband often see me walking around with Molly. It is an image that makes them both smile. Sometimes stopping to talk, but often just passing by, as I spend my days “farting around” as Kurt Vonneghut described it. It was a beautiful evening singing that night, as we prepare for a concert. I had another beautiful conversation with Alex the Flower man who was concerned about a mutual friend. I passed on his concern and the friend was grateful for this. I had several delightful conversations with people going through their ordinary lives that day. It reminded me of the following beautiful words of Walt Whitman:

“I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,

To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing,
Laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm
Ever so lightly around his or her neck for a moment,
What is this
Then?
I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.”

To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, Laughing flesh is certainly enough to awaken my soul. All this beauty whether natural or human has awakened my soul to act in more loving and open ways and thus pour out my own love on the world in which I live and breathe and move and have my being. It is a powerful antidote to the ugliness and violence that is going on in this our shared world too. Those forces that separate person from person and fails to recognise our shared humanity. It is easy to get caught up in the Hobbesian nightmare. The truth is that this world is both beautiful and ugly. The problem comes from when we fail to see and be moved by beauty and become overwhelmed by the ugly destructiveness that is part of life. Our souls will be inspired to act by something, better it be beauty.

On Tuesday morning Nick posted a video a blizzard of Cherry Blossom blowing up in the wind and it and all that I had experienced in the last couple of days inspired me to begin to write. I found myself caught up in the “Creative Interchange”. It reminded me of some wisdom from Matthew Fox:

“The universe is in the habit of making beauty. There are flowers and songs, snowflakes and smiles, acts of great courage, laughter between friends, a job well done, the smell of fresh baked bread. Beauty is everywhere”

I had enjoyed the smell of fresh baked goods that morning as I walked into Altrincham. It reminded me of Molly and her sniffing all the new life this spring. Her nose seems more alive as each day passes, it energises her. As J. Ruth Gendler claims “Beauty is an energy, not an image, and that energy can go anywhere; that energy takes on an image, a form, many images, many forms.” Beauty energises and awakens the soul to act; beauty awakens the soul of me in so many indescribable ways and it compels me to act in such a way as to pour out that beauty within on to all I engage with.



Beauty inspired Oliver to write the other day while sitting in the garden; it inspired him to give back to the world, despite experiencing current suffering and being taken back to a place of pain, grief and guilt. The beauty of the blossom blizzard inspired his soul to act.

Beauty manifests itself in so many ways in the world in which we live and breathe and move. It awakens all our senses and thus feeds and nourishes our souls; it awakens our souls and it fills our hearts to overflowing. We not only drink from the well of beauty, we also fill it too. Beauty truly is about the heart, about filling the heart to overflowing. In "Beauty: The Invisible Embrace" John O’Donohue wrote:

"The heart is the place where beauty arrives; here is where it can be felt, recognized and shared. If there was no heart, beauty could never reach us. Through the heart, beauty can pervade every cell of the body and fill us. To use a word that feels like it sounds: this is the thrill of beauty through us. Perhaps this is why we sometimes feel the absence of beauty in our lives; we have allowed the prism to become dull and darkened; though the light is near, it cannot enter to have its inlay of beauty diffused. Sometimes absence is merely arrested appearance. Compassion and attention keep the prism clear so that beauty may illuminate our life. Prayer of course is the supreme way we lift our limited selves towards the light, and ask it to shine into us. "

Beauty not only awakens the soul, but also fills the heart to overflowing, it certainly compels me to pour my heart out on the world in loving ways. In fact perhaps true beauty, certainly in a human sense, is to act morally. As John O’Donohue has pointed out Plato believed that Love was born of beauty and that it tapped into our basic human drive and desire for Good, that it was not a private or self-indulgent act of pleasure and that “the ability to love beauty has created all the good things that exist for gods and men’. He quotes Pseudo Dionysius the Aeropagite who said, "For beauty is the cause of harmony, of sympathy, of community. Beauty unites all things and is the source of all things. It is the great creating cause which bestirs the world and holds all things in existence by the longing inside them to have beauty. And there it is ahead of all as…the Beloved…toward which all things move, since it is the longing for beauty which actually brings them into being."

It is beauty that awakens our souls and inspires us to act lovingly in the world, to pour out our love on the world. How do we do this you may well ask? Well, I believe it begins with our neighbour the very people we interact with on a daily basis. As it has with me once again these last few days

It brings to my mind a passage from Matthew’s Gospel (Ch 26 vv 6-13). It is a much debated primarily because it has been used by some as a justification for tolerating poverty. I believe that to focus on this is to fail to recognise the central message of Matthews Gospel, the abundant blessing of love.

6 Now while Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,* 7a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, and she poured it on his head as he sat at the table. 8But when the disciples saw it, they were angry and said, ‘Why this waste? 9For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum, and the money given to the poor.’10But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, ‘Why do you trouble the woman? She has performed a good service for me. 11For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me. 12By pouring this ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial. 13Truly I tell you, wherever this good news* is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.’

The power in this story is in its recognition of abundant love. The woman loves and cares for Jesus. She anoints him with oil because she loves him dearly. It truly is an act of loving, nay gracious abandonment. This is in complete contrast to the grumpy disciples who are definitely of the glass half empty brigade. At least they are consistent though as they appear this way throughout the Gospels. The woman though is overflowing with love and wants to anoint those she loves with this. This is beauty in action. This is a soul awakened by beauty and inspired to act lovingly. Her heart is over flowing with love and she wants to pour out this love onto Jesus who will soon no longer be with her or the disciples.

Just as Oliver’s poem did; just as Nick’s video did; just as Rose’s conversation did; just as Alex asking about a friend did; just as Molly sniffing around as the pink blossom blew did; just as we all can do. We can all pour out this attentive love on one another and all life. We can offer care and attention to each and everyone around us. In so doing we will help create beauty all around us. All we need to do is pay attention open our hearts to beauty and act from it.

This brings to mind the following little anecdote by William McNamara:

“I once lived near a mansion where only one of the many gardeners employed had succeeded with every one of the roses. I asked him the secret of his success. He told me that the other gardeners treated all the roses not unwisely, but too generally. They treated them all in precisely the same way; whereas he himself watched each rosebush separately, and followed out for each plant its special need for soil, manure, sun, air, water, support and shelter.”

Beauty is all around us. We are surrounded by it. If we open ourselves to it, it will fill our hearts, awaken our souls and lead us to act lovingly and morally. This is beauty in action. If we create beauty with our own hands we will touch each individual soul we meet and they will grow and flower to their own full potential. We are here to enjoy the beauty that we are surrounded by and to pour out the beauty that lays within us and thus bring it to fruition in the world around us.

As Desmond Tutu has said:

“We were made to enjoy music, to enjoy beautiful sunsets, to enjoy looking at the billows of a sea and to be thrilled with a rose that is bedecked with dew…Human beings are actually created for the transcendent, for the sublime, for the beautiful, for the truthful…and all of us are given the task of trying to make this world a little more hospitable to these beautiful things.”

Let beauty awake for beauty's sake. Awake from slumber and awake from dreams. Let beauty awake from deep within us, Let beauty pour from us and be lavished upon our world.

May we be caught up in the blizzard of beauty, may we be blown in such a wind.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

The language of friendship: The language of love

I’m sure you’ve heard me badly misquote good old Moses many times “Choose Life, Blessings and Curses”. The phrase says to me that in life you don’t get the good without the bad and the bad without the good, you get life though and we are here to live it. The blessing is in being here and being alive.

I am enjoying the blessing of spring time. I am loving the colour of the blossoms and the songs of the birds. It is a delight, especially for my eyes and my ears. That said it isn’t all blessings. There is a negative to all this new life and it is one also for my eyes and my ears. My eyes and ears, my nose and my throat are being badly affected by the pollen. It is my ears that are frustrating me as I am not hearing people when they speak as well as I would like.

I can still hear the birds though and their beautiful spring songs. The birds are telling many things.

Another favourite phrase of mine is “a little bird told me”. I loved it as a child; there was something enchanting about it. I love it equally as an adult. It is a cute way of relaying information about people, sharing good news, like birthdays or small achievements. Little birds telling me things is basically half of my life; I spend half my life listening to folk tell me stories, sharing and caring. Lots of little birds have been whispering in my ear recently. It seems that my purpose in life is primarily to be a friend, to live as a friend to many. I suspect that my primary role as a minister of religion is to be a good friend, this I am discovering is what it means to live spiritually alive. Maybe this is the whole of the spiritual life, the love that we are supposed to live by. Maybe we are here to be friends to one another sharing and caring, telling our tales. I love funny little phrases, and I love language, how it changes, how it develops. It speaks so much about time and place, past, present and even future.

You can tell a lot about a culture by its language. The English language has many words for different types of rain, probably because it rains a lot. Iceland has about forty words for snow and the ancient Greeks had at least six words for love. These were “Eros”, primarily romantic, sexual or passionate desire. “Philia” which was a deep bond that was formed through friendship and or comradeship. Think of the city of Philadelphia, the city of “brotherly love. Another was “Storge” which was a kind of familial love. “Ludus” which was a kind of playful or flirtatious love. “Pragma” or longstanding love. This was a form of mature love that developed over long-term relationships, say between married couples. “Agape” love, this was a love without prejudice, a selfless love, some call it religious love. Finally, “Philautia”, self-love. This had a light and shadow side. Its shadow manifested in Narcissism, but its light was seen as vital in order to offer all the other forms of love in a healthy way.

Two of these forms of love seem to be vital to living in spiritual community with others. These being “Philia” and “Agape”. As I’ve been wandering around walking and talking with folk in recent times these are the two forms I’ve been experiencing. I feel that these loves are at the heart of true friendship. We need these loves right now, as we live through these difficult and sometime disturbing times, as we look at our wider world. “Agape” and “Philia” love are the two types that I am often aware of when I live with my senses open to those I interact with. These two types that truly bring the blessings and curses of choosing life. They are vital to living spiritually alive.

I engaged in all kinds of conversations with folk at our recent General Assembly meetings. It was lovely catching up with old friends. People tell me many things. Yes, they share their many and varied troubles, but also share other wonderful stories too. I am blessed by what people choose to share with me. One thing I particularly enjoyed this year was a conversation I was invited to participate in with other regular writers for “The Inquirer”, our denominational magazine. We were asked to talk about how we write, what inspires us, our whole process as well as questions about the things we ought to be exploring. It was really an attempt to encourage others to give writing a go. It was interesting listening to the other contributors and comparing their processes with my own. We are so different. They seem far more deliberate and structured, whereas my inspirations seems to blow in the wind. A bit like this conversation really. There is structure and purpose though, it is perhaps just less obvious than others. I see everything that I create as a kind of conversation between friends and for friends, some of whom I am yet to meet and yet perhaps already know and are known. Speaking and hearing the language of love.

During the “Inquirer Panel” there was an interesting conversation about the use of Artificial Intelligence (AI). Something none of us felt we would want to use in our own work. I am not against the use of AI in terms of discovering information. It also seems to help people who have limited writing skills or lack confidence in this area. I know it has helped friends of mine to build confidence. So, like most things AI has its place. It just doesn’t have a place in my creativity. I want to speak through the spirit, the language of the heart. A conversation based on love. It seems to me that A.I. is a soulless product. When I read things created by it, it does not touch my soul at least.

Language and words used in my line of work ought to be formed by love and creativity, of that spirit, formed from agapeic and philia love. They should be about creativity and connection. I recently had a powerful experience around forgiveness, a beautiful example of how Agape can work its magic in bringing repair to “Philia Love” and restoring a once broken friendship. I recently reacquainted myself with someone I was close to many years ago. I had once said something that had unintentionally hurt them. I was speaking from a place of arrogance and perhaps hubris, getting a bit too big for my boots, to use another wonderful old phrase. The words I used were not personal, but they hurt the person. It broke a friendship. One that no matter what I said and did seemed like it would never be healed. Well recently it has been. It just took some humility and truth speaking. It took the practice of Agapeic love to heal a friendship and rekindle a form of damaged Philia Love. It was a lovely experience and led to the most amazing and moving conversation as we shared loving words. We both levelled our pride, gave something of ourselves, recognised one another’s humanity and rekindled a friendship. Agapeic love healed a relationship, it reformed a Philia love.

The reconciliation brought to my mind the following from John’s Gospel Ch21 vv 15-19

15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. 18 Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” 19 (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”

This conversation between Jesus and Peter comes later in the Gospel, after the “Resurrection” It is a fascinating piece, mirroring Peter’s denial of Jesus three times. What is interesting to me is the use of the word “Love”. The first two times when Jesus asks Peter if he loves him, he is using the word Agape, while Peter responds with the word Philia. On the third occasion Jesus then reverts to the word Philia. Now both words are used interchangeably in John’s account and much has been discussed by theologians as to the meaning of this passage. To me it is about reconciliation, forgiveness and moving forward as Jesus is asking Peter to take care of his “sheep, lambs”, his people and what he is prepared to sacrifice. For me it is about how vital both forms of love are to living spiritually alive in this world. If I have learnt anything, it is that I need to live by both Philia love and Agape love in order to live alive in this world, to choose life. In so doing the Kin-dom of Love, begins to be brought to life.

We all need “Philia” love, for we are relational beings. Everyone needs friends, to experience that deep loving care that is not connected by blood, by family and romantic feelings, a love for those we share our time and space with. This is the love that spiritual community is built upon, actually all forms of community.

Aristotle said, “What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.”

Emerson wrote, “Let us approach our friend with an audacious trust in the truth of his heart.”

A friend is someone you can trust, you can rely upon, someone who will be there for you. I have been blessed with such friendships throughout my life. Some have been there for decades and others for shorter periods of time, but we have touched one another’s lives in deep and meaningful ways. We have laughed and we have cried together. We have enjoyed some wild and crazy times together and we have grieved as we have lost one of our number. I have lost a lot of friends over the years, far too many. Each loss breaks my heart; each loss takes a little piece of my heart. Love hurts. It was the first anniversary of the loss of one my oldest and dearest friends this week. The very next day I heard of the loss of another mutual friend. Gone far too soon.

A friend helps you become a better person, certainly my friends have helped me to do so, they have spurred me on by their example and encouragement and occasional criticism. This was a central claim of Aristotle’s “Ethics” who envisioned an escalating competition in goodness. He suggested that people try to do their best so as to be valued and respected by their friends thus inspiring them to do likewise. This is the power of “Philia” Love.

Friendship is a key component of Buddhism. This is illustrated in the following tale:

One day while the Buddha was out walking with his attendant Ananda, Ananda declared, “Teacher, to have companions and comrades on the great way is so amazing! I have come to realize that friendship is fully half of an authentic spiritual life.” They continued walking in silence when eventually the Buddha responded. “No, dear one. Without companions and comrades, no one can live into the deep, finding the true harmonies of life, to achieve authentic wisdom. To say it simply, friendship is the whole of the spiritual life.”

Could this be true? Is friendship the whole of the spiritual life?

Jesus said to his disciples, in John’s Gospel “I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything.” To me this is what a true relationship with God is about, friendship. Something that we are meant to mirror in our lives. This if you like is the Kin-dom coming alive in our lives. We gain knowledge of the spiritual life through living in such an intimate relationship with God, with life and with one another.

I’m with the Buddha and Jesus; I believe that friendship is the whole of the spiritual life. In fact, to live spiritually is to truly be a friend to life. This is how knowledge is truly revealed. This is the kin-dom of love, coming alive in our lives. This is how we make our lives a scared space. This is how we manifest love in our lives, by being a friend to life. This is what being a part of a spiritual community is about, becoming a friend to life and to all we meet. Friendship is those little birds whispering in my ear, sharing deep concern.

It begins with radical acceptance. It requires Agape Love, to accept those we meet as they are, exactly as they are. This does not mean we don’t point out when someone is in the wrong, no it just means we love and accept them right or wrong. It’s also about raising one another up through our example. You see by being the best we can be, in loving friendship, we automatically encourage our friends to be the best version of themselves that they too can be.

Friendships are relationships born from love; they speak the language of love. They are mirrors of the spiritual life for they are about both philia and at times agape love.

Life is all about relationships; the spiritual life is all about relationships. Relationships with life, with each other, with ourselves and with God, whatever we understand God to be. And how do relationships develop? Well through conversation, through sharing ourselves with each other, not by losing ourselves, but becoming ourselves through our conversations with the other, lower and upper case. We relate through conversation and thus we grow spiritually, through relationship.

Relationships speak the language love. Friendships being one of the most powerful, deep and meaningful. They must be formed and sustained by both “Philia” and “Agape” Love.

For love will bring us together again.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

Not giving things up, simply giving to and having a good time

Last week I attended two interfaith events. It was wonderful to come together with people from different traditions all working with the same heart and spirit. We may not think or believe alike, but we certainly loved alike. The first event was an entertainment evening. We enjoyed offerings from different traditions; a variety of songs, storytelling, poetry and dance. It was wonderful. We all reflected on the troubles in our world and we all shared joy, blessing and gifts for all to share. I shared songs of Rogers and Hammerstein while telling the story of Hammerstein and how his Universalism had shaped his song writing and his life.

On Sunday afternoon I attended the Mayor of Trafford’s multi-faith Civic Service, organised by Jane Brophy. It was held at Altrincham Baptist Church, where Jane is a member. Several folk from Dunham Road were in attendance. Gwyneth Roper played a huge role in making sure the event ran smoothly and Peter Flower and myself participated. Peter stepped in to play the keyboard at the last minute. Again, this was a wonderful occasion, full of spirit and culture. Wonderful to see mostly community cohesion in these divisive times. Jane insisted that I led the singing which I dutifully did. I do not need much encouragement. Towards the end of the service Jane mentioned that she wanted to share a secret about me to the people gathered. I wondered what on earth she would say, I was a little worried. She teased at it a couple of times and then publicly thanked me for something I had done over 10 years ago. Her son Edwin was very poorly at the time and she said that I had visited him in in the Moorside Unit at Trafford General every week. Edwin had grown up in the Sunday school at Dunham Road and ever since I have been minister there we have always got on well. This has not always been easy has he has one or two challenges. I have to say it brought some emotion in me, which I manged to contain. It is not something I have thought of much since. I was simply doing what I could do and what I thought was right at the time. As I left a woman approached me to talk of a friend of hers named Sheila, who had died in recent times. Sheila would attend both congregations, both services and other activities. She got a lot from her time with us, although the woman said her priest discouraged this. The woman wanted me to know how much she thought of me and welcome she received from both congregations. What a lovely gift to freely offer and in keeping with the spirit of the occasion.

Later that evening I noticed that the video promoting the “OYEZ” share option had been released. “OYEZ” is an art collective that has taken over the running of the town hall in Altrincham. They are doing amazing creative and community work there. The choir I sing with rehearses there. We had recorded a song for the launch of the share option and appeared in the video, as do other local figures, including Barbara Thackray. The whole project is another wonderful example of people giving what they have, from their heart for good of not only themselves, but their community. It gave me marvelous sense of well being. It is also hilariously funny. While I may well be a singer, I am not a dancer.

Here is the video 

Last week I saw another example of people giving what they have from their hearts. I have mentioned my two writer friends in the past. Well one of them has just written his first one person play. It is about to be performed in London. Last week it was being rehearsed in the schoolrooms at Dunham Road and by the weekend it will be performed. It is the first new thing he has written and produced in some time and my other friend, who owns Ronnie the dog who Molly loves to play with is directing it. It is oh so wonderful to see him getting back into what his heart desires, giving what his has from what he has been given.

A week last Saturday Molly, myself and a few friends who are singletons went for a walk together to Dunham Massey, on what was Valentines Day. During the walk a couple of my friends began to talk about the things they are planning to give up for Lent. They were talking of luxury items such as sugary drinks and chocolate. Things they will struggle with no doubt. I did wonder though if this is really what Lent is about. Is it really just about giving up luxury items, or is there more too it? Maybe it is better to think about what we can give to life, from our capacity and perhaps giving up things that get in the way of doing so. What that might be is probably different for each of us.

So, I’ve made a decision. This Lenten season I’m going to attempt to let a different spirit live through me. To see what I can give from my heart and soul and attempt to let go of the things that get in the way of that. To not give up things, but to give what I can and give up what blocks me from doing so. It is so easy to live in cynicism and say well what’s the point, but who does that serve, certainly not my soul. I’m going to live by the examples around me and do what I can. I’m going to live in what I consider the solution is as opposed to what I see as the problem. I am going to give love, even if it’s in small ways. I am going to do so while recognising how difficult that is, even to my nearest and dearest. That said I do know that by doing so my outer world is bound to improve and my inner world will become healed, even if it is just small ways.

I will invoking the spirit of Derek Brown in my activities, whose funeral I conducted this week. To live by his example with people. His warmth, his care, his welcome and his good humour too. These were the natural gifts that he had lived by, in so doing he touched so many lives. He was a man dedicated to his community in Urmston. This was proved by the outpouring of love this Thursday.

Last Sunday Peter spoke of the many forms of love, not just the romantic kind that is celebrated on Valentines Day. The day before on the walk with my friends we were practising friendship or “philia” love. Now the kind of love I want to talk about giving and giving up whatever gets in it’s way is Agape Love. Some call this “Spiritual” Love. It is the kind of love that the faith traditions speak of, although sadly too often fail to practice. It is what everyone was invoking at the interfaith events I participating in; it is was fuelled the songs of Rogers and Hammerstein and it is what I witnessed in Derek’s life. This is a kind of love that is none exclusive, it is open to all, it is supposed to have no boundaries; instead it builds bridges between the walls we create around ourselves.

Agape is the love that Jesus spoke of in the Gospels. He commanded his followers to “Love one another as I have loved you.” He is not talking about something soft and mushy here though, please do not be fooled. When he preaches that we should love our enemies he is commenting on the commandment in Leviticus “You must love your neighbour as yourself.” When Jesus spoke of love he was talking about an action that put someone or something else at the centre of their life, rather than themselves; he is talking about yielding for the good of all, instead of self-interest.

This message is of course not unique to the Judeo-Christian tradition it is the essence of all the “Great Faiths”. It would appear that selfishness and self-centredness has been the root of so many of humanities troubles throughout our history, therefore it is hardly surprising that the idea of yielding for the good of all is at the core of the great faiths; that putting something other than our selfish needs at the centre of what we do is vital to human survival. The great Chinese guide to statecraft “The Daodejing”, authored by Laozi made similar claims. “The only person who is fit to rule is the man who has overcome the habit of selfishness.”

To quote the Dao itself

“The reason there is great affliction is that I have a self.
If I had no self, what affliction would I have?
Therefore to one who honours the world as his self
The world may be entrusted,
And to one who loves the world as one’s self
The world may be consigned.”

Agape was the foundation of Rev Dr Martin Luther King’s ministry, the great champion of civil rights in 1950’s and 60’s America. He saw it as an abundant overflowing love that seeks nothing in return, that is open to all and rejects self interest. It is not sentimental and has nothing to do with whether we like a person or not. It is the kind of love that recognises our common humanity and reveres the other as our self; it recognises the sacred mystery in everyone. It is this that forms the beloved community that he spoke of. You could call it the Kingdom of God, the commonwealth of love, the kin-dom of Love, or simply “Fellowship”.

Although Agape is not soft, mushy or sentimental it is still a condition of the heart, it is a way of being that encompasses all aspects of our humanity; head and heart as well as mind, body and spirit. It is about how we are and how we act. In his sermon titled “Love in action” Dr King preached that “one day we will learn that the heart can never be totally right if the head is totally wrong...only through bringing together head and heart, intelligence and goodness – shall man rise to a fulfilment of his human nature.”

It is wrong to believe that Dr King ministry focused purely on the injustices of society external to him. He also talked of healing our inner violence. None violent action, motivated by love, that he adapted from the teachings of Gandhi was about committing not only to non-violent resistance externally but also internally. Both he and Gandhi knew how vital it was that we transformed our inner lives first before we looked to the world. Gandhi named this Satyagraha (soul-force). They both knew that in order to transform society for the better, they first had to develop themselves spiritually.

Why was this? Well they knew that if a person did not heal the violence within themselves that when they did overcome the injustice they were experiencing they may well end up replacing it with something just as destructive. Just look at the revolutions of the past two hundred years. They began as a protest against tyranny and yet in many cases they replaced the former tyranny with something worse. We must all be wary of the “dark side of the force”, of how corrupting power and self-righteousness can be. Human history is littered with examples of this.

Love is a way of being and this can be tough at times; it is not sentimental and or mushy and it is something I will be focusing on this Lenten season. It always amazes me how something like Lent, which in my view is about self-sacrifice, about giving of self for others, has somehow become so self-centred. As I was reminded by my conversation with my friends, too often people give up things for Lent, but they seemingly do so for their own good. People often given up certain food stuffs, for their own vanity, they do it for themselves. Is this what Lent is about? Well, it doesn’t seem to be the right focus to me. Surely, it’s actually about Agape, about self-giving love, about loving all without prejudice, about recognising the “inherent worth and dignity of all” Isn’t this the example that Jesus gave to humanity, in the same way that Gandhi and Dr King did, they gave themselves wholeheartedly for others. And they were murdered for it. That said their message survived their physical deaths, it lives on today. This loving spirit is timeless, it is immortal, but it needs a body, it needs to be embodied.

So, I’ve made a decision. This Lenten season I’m going to attempt to let this spirit live through my body; this Lent I’m going to focus on giving, instead of giving things up. I’m also going to see if I can give up what gets in the way of me doing so. This Lenten season I’m going to see what I can give to life instead of what I can give up; this Lenten season I’m going to live in what I consider the solution is as opposed to what I see as the problem. I am going to give love, even if it’s in small ways. I am going to do so while recognising how difficult that is, even to my nearest and dearest. That said I do know that by doing so my outer world is bound to improve and my inner world will begin to heal.

I’m also going to have a good time doing so. I’m going to sing more, dance more run and scream and shout more. I’m also going to encourage others to do the same. To live as much as I can from the heart. I’m going to follow the example of those who sang the joy of living in all its mystery. I will invoke the example of Derek Brown and let his spirit live on.

My question to you is what are you going to give to the world from yourself this season? What are going to let go of, that gets in the way of you doing so.

I will leave you with that one.

Please find below a devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"