Choosing to delight

In an odd twist of fate, I received an unconditional offer to Kent University a few months ago, and finally have accepted it. Despite initial protests, I will finally be attending university. It's such a bizaare realisation to come to. After many months of convincing myself that i would either marry well or fall into christian youthwork - it dawned on me;
sometimes we don't need to try too hard to decipher God's calling on our lives. sometimes God just gives us the right to choose.

I want to study something I'm passionate about, and something that I don't know much about - that would interest me. I want to stay close to home and I want to have the ability to be as financially secure as possible. I guess that if you dig deeper into those statements, it can be discovered that deep down, I am scared of studying for no reason, scared of being too far away from my parents and scared of being broke. It's not rocket science.

But lately the bible verse from Psalm 37:4 has struck me. 'Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart'. What is it to delight in God? Do I truly know how to do this?
What I do know, is that God knows my heart's desires, and with that he also knows my fears and he holds them close to his heart. He knows my worries about moving too far away from home, studying academically again and being broke and he's got it covered.

So far I've seen God's hand move immesaruably in my life. God has kept me safe moving to Watford, living in a wonderful house with housemates that only God could have ordained for me to know. God has ended relationships in my life that were unhealthy, and distracted me from focusing on him. But God has also given me the ability to choose all these things - to want to go to Watford, to want to have relationships with boys that weren't too good for me, and to want to go to university.

Our life isn't always about being 'called' to a certain path, discerning if that is the right one to follow and acting accordingly. I worry sometimes that this christian jargon prevents us from being selfish with God, and honest about what the desires of our heart truly are. We have forgotten what it is to delight in God. To delight in who He is, what He is and how almighty He is. And delight doesn't just mean mild acknowledgement of this fact; it means truly rejoicing and magnificently reflecting on that, and on Him. To this end, God gives us the desires of our hearts; and the great part about it is that when we truly delight in God, these desires aren't clouded by worldly perspective or personal gain because in realising Jesus, we realise that these things are irrespective. It is when we place these limitations on God that these desires aren't met and we get disappointed, seeing the lack of response as worldly failure rather than kingdom gain.

There is a classic line in Little Women where Amy says: 'We're all going to grow up someday Meg. We might as well know what we want'. I am in no way fully grown in Christ and I love that I never will be, but I do agree with Amy. Someday, I will be in heaven with Jesus - and it will be rocking. Until then, it's OK to know what I want, and to desire it - as long as I am also truly delighting in the Lord.

God gives us choice; and if our creator is powerful enough to move mountains and calm storms, I happen to believe that if I ever made a wrong choice - He'd let me know pretty quickly. And that's what's so awesome about my God.

'Praise does wonders for a person's hearing'

The above slogan was recently proudly displayed on the notice boards outside the quaint little baptist church down our road. I don't normally pay attention to such notice boards, but this one definitely caught my eye - surprisingly it was catchy, thought-provoking and simple. If only it had been discovered before; it would have been marketing genius for the christian faith!

I've been thinking alot about praise.....it's a funny concept. Whilst I am familiar with it, and am aware that I have SO much to praise my God for, I am also aware that I will frequently limit my praise to specific acts of devotion, such as quiet times and church services. What is a 'heart of praise' really like in my life?

Everybody likes to be praised. I remember fondly my primary school teacher dancing for joy on my table and praising me for using the word 'presumed' at the age of eight. (Apparently such vocabulary was a rarity for someone so young. Incidentally, this teacher remained one of the biggest inspirations in my life to date). We like to know we have done something right - and more importantly, we love to get the credit for it. We even like to receive praise when it isn't us that deserves it. It's true: Praise does wonders for a person's hearing.

God's creation is blooming marvellous. Let's be honest - he did a great job. I don't know anyone on this earth that would have succeeded in creating something as complex, complete, intricate, beautiful, awesome and terrifyingly powerful as this earth. He did it right. And he SHOULD deserve the credit for it.

One of the most important things I am learning this year is to develop a heart of praise, and a heart of worship. It's one thing to know music, to read chords, to hear melodies and play them together. It's entirely another to use this as a personal language between you and God, whilst remembering all the other things in the meantime. A heart of praise comes from truly being in Jesus Christ; in knowing him and through loving him. It sound cheesy, and many great philosophers such as Matt Redman and Tim Hughes have already quoted similar things to this prior to my musings, but there is method in their madness! I would much rather praise and worship my God alone in the silence of my room, and His voice, than with a thousand people witnessing it - and that's the clincher.

The trinity is a complex doctrine. I still don't think I completely understand it. However one thing I have learnt about it recently has blown me away. We are IN God's son. It's like looking at a map in Bluewater with a big 'YOU ARE HERE' arrow pointing us straight at the Son, rather than John Lewis. The Trinity isn't a distant idea, we're a part of it. God wants us to be a part of it. It isn't just about giving our lives to Jesus and surrendering to him - it's about becoming a part of something unique, that can only have been created by the death of Jesus Christ.

That's intense, but that gives me even more reason to want to praise. I've been reading Jeremiah for the past few weeks, and have a favourite verse stuck on my bedroom wall:
'This is what the Lord says:
Let not the wise boast of their wisdom, or the strong boast of their strength, or the rich boast of their riches. But let those who boast, boast about this; that they understand and know me, that I am the Lord who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight'. (Jeremiah 9:23-24)
I want to boast in Jesus. I want to praise his name, in the silence and the noise. Funnily enough, it's doing wonders for my hearing too.

Remaining Humble with my faith held high

'Consider what God has done;

Who can straighten what he has made crooked? When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider:

God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore you cannot discover anything about your future'

(Ecclesiastes 7:13-14)

It's like I've seen the light! I have come to the understanding that in actual fact, I cannot predict my future, and reflecting on the past few months of my life most certainly confirms this.

After what seemed like months of waiting, I moved to Watford from Croydon at the end of October to begin a new job and new life in a new home, with new friends, new responsibilities and new challenges. I have loved it, and all that it has brought and will continue to bring.

But the past two months obviously have not been without their challenges, including:

1. Learning to cook on a budget, which we seem to have cracked by discovering the 'reduced yellow label' trick and shopping at ASDA. We have also discovered that someone from our church lives less than 100m up the road, and she brings round quite alot of food...

2. Learning to live with a whole new set of people. I love my housemates, and it has been a real gift from God that we have gelled together so well.

3. Being geographically challenged in a completely alien place. I have succeeded to terrify my passengers with my 'london driving' on several occasions. It's not how they do it in Watford, apparently.

4. Learning to survive the pressures of working for a brand new, even more hectic church than my last one in Croydon. This church is even bigger, even busier and completely exhausting at times! It's also got alot of 'Christian fame' and dealing with that is harder than I expected.

If you were to have asked me five years ago what I'd be doing right now, it wouldn't have been this. I could never have planned this in a million years - which is poignant really because I didn't plan it. God did. If it was left to me, I would be slogging my way through law books right now, probably being very miserable.

It is humbling to think that whilst I fumble through life worrying and making plans, God has it sussed. My ambition for the year is to remain humble, faithful and reaching for Jesus. It's not to get 'famous' or walk into a job, or to avoid making proper decisions. I believe that I love Watford so much because God called me to Watford, and it's exciting to be seeking Him to see where he's going to call me next. I plan to remain humble, and keep my faith held high (and I thank Dan Blackburn for that gem of a quote). And funnily enough, I have a good idea that this probably fits into God's plans too.....

My Grandma

Everyone has two types of Grandmother: The nice one and the strict one, or at least I certainly did!

My nice Grandma is cuddly, buying sweets when my parents had previously denied me them, giving me money when I didn't need it and baking wonderful cakes. My strict Grandma didn't do any of those things. In fact, the closest I ever got to a thoughtful gift was the ability to choose a Bible of my choice for my sixteenth birthday. I already had four bibles but I grasped the oppurtunity as this was a vast improvement on the most common Christmas gift I received, blank video tapes - a gift I had to contend with two Christmas' in a row.

I'm not the best at relationships with members of my external family. It doesn't help that there are so many of us (I am one of seventeen cousins) or that we live at such different corners of the country. Modern technology and social networking has been a great help for the cousins as we all attend different universities and begin new jobs. Unfortunately, my grandparents aren't as technologically savvy, and keeping in contact with them has been much harder.

I recently went to stay with my 'strict' Grandma. In all honesty, it was an arrangement of initial convenience -I had planned a weekend with some friends, and staying with my Grandparents gave me free accommodation. Prior to leaving, I can't say that staying with my Grandparents was the part of the weekend I was most excited about.

However, I think that the weekend I spent with my Grandparents was, in actual fact, one of the best weekends I've had there in a long time. I felt welcomed into a warm loving and hospitable Christian home (warm being a rarity with my money saving grandparents). I was given plenty of food (again, a rarity with my grandmother) and even a front door key! I even attended church with them on Sunday; TWICE.

At my grandparents church that Sunday evening, my presumptions of my Grandma were drastically changed. Sitting alone after the service, in an unfamiliar and slightly odd church, I was approached by a gentle, quiet old lady.
'I haven't seen you before. Are you new?' She asked.
I replied that I was just visiting, and explained who I was. Much to my surprise, when I later pointed out who my Grandparents were, I was astonished at her response.
'Ah, Hannah. It's lovely to meet you. I'm in a prayer triplet with your Grandma. We pray for you very regularly. It's wonderful to finally put a face to the name'.

My respect for my Grandmother suddenly rocketed. I had no idea that this woman, who previously I had perceived to be judgemental and uncaring was totally the opposite - she just didn't need to tell everyone about it. I was humbled by the knowledge that all this time, whilst I have strongly disliked her, she has continued to pray for me. And equally humbled that a woman of her age is such an awesome woman of faith, regularly meeting with a prayer triplet and remaining accountable.

I have alot to learn from those older than me. From those a few years my senior to those reaching the end of their lives, I know so little about life, about faith, about God and about following Him. I want to be a woman of faith like my Grandma. And I want to be humble, like her. I might not dig her choice of Christmas presents, but I definitely dig faith like this.

I might just go and pay a visit again.

Passionate about Jesus

There is an annoying box underneath my profile picture on my Facebook page. I don't think anyone really knows why it is there - but it is. The content amongst my many Facebook acquaintances ranges from the obscene to the philosophical, but all largely detailing some aspect of the individuals life that it is crucially important that I know prior to meeting them.

I have a continual love hate relationship with Facebook, Twitter and any other time wasting/social networking/communication/'important feature in your life' device. I love that I am able to communicate easily with people who live far away or that I wouldn't otherwise be in contact with. I hate that it swallows my time, is unashamedly addictive and ironically encourages me to keep in touch with people that I wouldn't otherwise be in contact with.
My little box on my Facebook page reads: 'I am passionate about Jesus Christ. I have 30 pairs of shoes. In my spare time i like to watch rugby, read and play my guitar called Eric.'

It is not crucially important that those who don't know me read this information. What is important is that I am passionate about Jesus. And I want people to know this via any means possible, Facebook, Twitter, the whole social networking community.

This summer has been a massive summer in my life. I experienced life changing events on my first missions trip to Moldova, met important people at various festivals throughout the summer and finally left my job a week ago. I went from being lukewarm about God to passionate about being a disciple of Him in the space of six weeks. I have fallen in love all over again.

Moldova is a tiny country, dealing with a troubled political and economic past and a corrupt leadership. There is much poverty, alcoholism, prostitution and sadness throughout the country. Working in a tiny village in rural Moldova was challenging and hard, painful to heart breaking. Despite the hardships there is a minority of the community out there dedicated to relying and trusting on God's faithfulness, truly believing he provides; trying to evoke hope in a dying nation. It was utterly humbling. The Moldovan locals were able to communicate a desperate passion for Jesus: without the little Facebook box. They didn't need mere words to express their life, they lived it fully, humbly and gracefully - qualities that universally translate.

I am Passionate about Jesus Christ. I do have 30 pairs of shoes (shamefully). I do love rugby, I do love reading, and I do love playing my guitar (which again, shamefully, is in fact called Eric). My next challenge is to live my life fully, humbly and gracefully - or in the words of Micah 6:8 ' to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God'. I don't need to use words to do this.

I might delete my little Facebook box. I might keep it. Or at least delete the bit about the shoes...

Faces without names

I met the love of my life on a plane to Spain.

Well, not really. However, i did meet an extremely beautiful, well spoken, polite and intelligent man whilst going on holiday at the end of March this year. It was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life.

Having spotted him in HMV at London Gatwick, my colleague and great friend Becky and I were already keeping a close eye on his every move, and had vaguely and unbelievably talked about the possibility of him being on the same plane as us. After careful consideration and the realisation that this probably wouldn't happen - we resumed almost normal behaviour.

At the departure gate, we played that funny, girlish game where both of us pretended not to be secretly wishing that we would see him come storming through the gates at the last minute, whilst positioning ourselves carefully with direct view of the door - just in case. With five minutes to departure - our dreams were made when we saw him breeze in.

Undeniably, we couldn't hide our excitement any longer. We saw him wait as the queue to board yet another packed Ryanair flight diminished, and worried when we saw him remain seated. What was going on - was he boarding after all? Or just enjoying the fun? Our minds were put to rest when out of our window, we saw him at the end of the queue at the bottom of the stairs. Thanks to Becky's careful prompting, I put my bag on the chair next to me - in the vain hope that he might sit in it over an annoying french exchange student.
I think my heart actually stopped when he did...

For the first hour of our short two hour flight, we were both too scared to talk - especially to him. Our hopes were then dashed when we then overheard him in fluent Spanish conversation with one of the air hostesses, and presumed him to be wholly Spanish. I am unsure to this day why this diminished our attraction to him.
It is only thanks to the two slightly drunk, overweight businessmen seated in front of us and their pantomime-like conversation in raised voices that the whole plane could hear; that it happened.

He turned to me and said one short sentence. 'It's like watching a play, isn't it?'. In response, all I could say was, 'Yes, it is', before turning to my friend and pulling silent faces to express my delight at this moment of sheer wonder! As we grew in confidence (literally) we began to talk to him more and more. We found out where he went to university, what he studied, where he now lived, how he could speak Spanish (he turned out to have a Spanish mother and English father. Being bilingual was far more attractive that just being able to speak one language...) what he did for a job, and why he was flying to Spain on this occasion.

What we didn't find out - was his name. He will forever be etched in our memories as the beautiful, perfect man that we met on the plane to Spain.

It seems I am rubbish at finding out people's names.

This evening with some friends, i went into town to see the latest masterpiece of Sacha Baron Cohen, 'Bruno'. Thoughts and opinions of this film aside, it was a lovely evening, made even more poignant by our journey back to the car park.

As we walked past the historic Millets, there was a lady sitting in the shop doorway. I walked past, as I normally do - but in contrast to other times, felt something different about this poor homeless woman who was asking for change. I rounded up all of my friends, and we headed to the only shop that was open: a cheap and cheerful chicken shop just metres down the road. Pitching in all our spare change, we bought her a burger and took it back to her, for her to enjoy a warm and tasty - albeit questionably nutritious evening meal.

Her eyes lit up, and something in me stirred. I had never experienced gratitude like this before. She opened the box immediately and started to eat, telling me that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous morning. I told her I hoped that she would enjoy it - and then churned out that annoyingly safe Christian phrase 'God Bless', before leaving her again.

I didn't ask her name.

This has been bugging me since I have returned. I have no way of keeping my memory of this woman solid in my mind - no personalisation of who she was, no identity to place on her - except for remembering her as a stereotype. 'That woman who was sitting in the doorway of Millets.'

Our names are so inextricably linked to who we are. Our names hold much of our value, and our identity. Identity theft is one of the biggest crimes in our country today - and that must be the case for a reason. I feel totally ashamed that I had forgotten to ask her name. I feel totally gutted that I forgot to ask the name of the guy we met on the plane (for no other reason than I can't add him as a friend on Facebook - I don't know who he is. This could also be a good thing). In my mild OCD, remembering people's names is important to me (and I am a little bit fascinated with finding out people's middle names).

Jesus would never forget my name. And he knows the names of those I didn't think to ask. I'm doing a rubbish job at trying to be like him on this earth. From now on, asking the name of those I don't know will be my first and most important question. Everyone deserves recognition by their name, and the lady in the doorway deserves it most of all.

Shipwrecked faith

About this time every year I find myself becoming insanely addicted to what is in fact, a rubbish teen reality television programme called 'Shipwrecked'. In short, it is a programme about young adults (all of whom are coincidentally beautiful and wear very little) marooned on two rival desert islands in the South Pacific, encouraged to go a bit bonkers and perform some amusing, made for television moments resulting in a cash prize. It's great stuff - even my Mum likes it!

However, this series watching this programme has become more interesting - as one of the Island arrivals is a young Christian university graduate. For some reason, this made me uncertain. I became very conscious of this new arrival, and began to think about what it could mean for my own faith. 'Doug' could either be really cool and make me feel proud of my faith, or be totally embarrassing with legalistic and confusing theological ideas.

However, as the weeks have developed, and more inhabitants have joined the Islands, I have noticed increasingly and interestingly that 'Doug' is frequently absent; his opinions are rarely broadcast. I began to wonder why this was. Perhaps it is because Doug has very little of interest to say. Perhaps it is because what Doug does have to say would be too controversial for television broadcasting. Are either of these good things?

I began to wonder what I would be like if I was marooned on an island with complete strangers - who probably wouldn't be Christians. Would I grasp this great evangelism opportunity and totally trust that God has the situation in his hands, or would I forget that God even could hold situations in his hands. And then what really worried me is the thought that I wouldn't need to be Shipwrecked to believe the latter!

One of my favourite Tim Hughes Songs 'He's got the whole world in his hands' says this:

'I'll fear no evil, for you are with me. Strong to deliver, mighty to save'.
I remember the first time I heard this song played, at the leaving celebration of the first youth worker I ever knew and grew to love. It seemed so poignant at the time - and the lyrics of that song definitely spoke into my heart, my youth leaders heart, and the hearts of my youth group as he left to go onto bigger and better things in the Church of England.

Just over a month ago, I heard that I too had got myself a new job, starting in November. Whilst being amazing and exciting news it leaves me feeling a bit 'Shipwrecked'. I will be moving out of my family home for the first time and moving into a house with strangers. I will be leaving behind my church, the youth that I love and adore, and some incredible people. But at the same time I will be opening a door to some much needed new experiences and opportunities. The difficulty, I have found - is now: the interim period. I know that I am leaving but also know that it won't be for a while. I am reluctant to start new projects and get passionate about them because I know that in a few months they could disappear into nothingness. It is in the interim that I understand how Doug might be feeling as he is Shipwrecked.

It is hard to find God in the interim periods. It is hard to hear his voice, to trust in him and to believe that he has the situation in hand, and is probably working in my uneasiness, through my anxiety and insecurities. But then, no-one ever told me that following a guy who got nailed to a cross and tortured to death was going to be easy.

Recently I have been re-reading this book, 'Lost Women of the Bible'. It's a favourite of mine and this time the story of Mrs. Noah struck me in a new and interesting way. Here was a woman that isn't mentioned in the Bible. Noah takes all the glory with his big extravagant ark and eccentric animal collection. But she is there. What is more important is that you only have to look contextually to find out all you ever need to know about Mrs. Noah:
1. She was her husbands only wife in a society when polygamy was rife (so she must have been doing something right...)
2. In a society when a woman's value was measured by the number of sons she bore - Mrs. Noah had three. Another ticked box.
3. Noah couldn't have done what he did without her help, support and understanding. Noah's weird boat building hobby was incomprehensible by those that God was wishing to clear from the earth - yet Mrs. Noah comprehended it.
4. Finally, she must have been the only one to see Noah at his weakest. As any one in any form of leadership knows, it's not easy and there are times when you can feel very low. Mrs. Noah must have been one of the only people who was privy to Noah's 'freak outs' and anxieties - and it must take one hell of a woman to uphold a man with such a massive mission, like Noah.

I don't think that Mrs. Noah found her life very easy. I think I would go barmy trapped on a boat with my whole family (and the entire population of the animal kingdom) for an extended period of time. And I'm sure that as the rain continued to pour and there was no sign of any promise being fulfilled, Mrs. Noah found it equally hard to hear God's voice amid the strange squawkings and roars, and equally hard to trust that God had a plan. But as every small child knows - there was a plan. And it was fulfilled with far more than just a pretty rainbow.

I need to be more like Mrs. Noah, and NOT just in the interim period. My prayer is that God will give me the grace and strength to keep sailing - for I know that my own rainbow is more than on it's way. And I'm sure that Shipwrecked Doug would agree.