Logical Thinking

Logic. The tool of a mathematician. When you are learning maths, unless you are some kind of genius, you need to be taught logical ways to work through problems. The cries of 'why do I need to show my working?' are always answered, 'because you need to learn how to set out your work in logical steps to set up for the future hard maths you will do'. 

Logic. I used to teach someone who was better than me at maths. He would do a problem and if he came to the wrong conclusion he would ask me to see if I could work out what he had done wrong. The problem is that most of his logical working was different to my logic. He missed out bits, he did lots in his head, it took me a long time to make sense of his work because the way he thought logically was different to the way I thought logically. 

The problem I have when people come to different conclusions to me is when I am told that what I think or believe has no logic. I admit occasional lapses into illogicalness, and when that happens I do tell myself off for it, or proclaim my fallible humanity that I cannot always be perfect. I have a problem though, when somebody tells me I am illogical, just because they disagree with me and assume I have not thought my deep held beliefs through. I would never believe in anything that I hadn't thought through and didn't make sense - I'm a mathematician. 

I read recently an article in the Independent that is headlined 'Religious People are less intelligent than atheists....'. It can be found here. This hit home with me because I have been basically told I am stupid and illogical for believing in God - that I might as well believe in the flying spaghetti monster for all the sense it makes. When you read through the article you discover that actually the research is quite flawed and subjective - the researchers themselves do not take this as evidence that only 'stupid' people believe in God, but that there is more to it than that. They state the argument for more intelligent people not turning to religion as normally being that '...religious beliefs are irrational, not anchored in science, not testable....', but go on to conclude that there is something with more intelligent people that as they feel more capable in reason, that they do not want to lose control of what they can control - that there is an element of personal control in rejecting what they don't understand. 

Now, I don't know whether that is true, and I am always suspicious when it comes to studies like this because of their subjectivity and the margins for error in statistical testing.... but there may be something in the fact that if we accept God as necessary and rational (which many intelligent people do), then that challenges our own human capabilities and often our perception of reason, and some of us find that a huge challenge because it does mean letting go of control. 

For me it makes sense to believe in God. When I look at the world around me and in a way that is so finely tuned it makes even more sense.  I came across an article by John Polkinghorne about The Anthropic Principle a while ago, which really excited me because it linked the beauty of Physics with the existence of God (worth a read). The more I learn about science, the more God makes sense. 

I believe logic and reason do point to God. I value the work of intelligent Scientists who are also Christians that explain it in much better ways than I can (see The Faraday Institute for examples and more to read). So when I say I'm a Christian, I wish people would think and get to know me before they assume I'm illogical, because for me, it makes sense. Science and Religion are not in conflict and when we put our faith in human intelligence being the be all and end all of everything, I believe we miss out. 

Every time I learn something new about the world, I cannot help myself but glorify God. 

Changing from the inside out....

I'm an introvert. Most people who know me know this is true. Always the quiet ones.... 

I love people watching, and sometimes I will sit quietly in a group situation until space is made for my thoughts to catch up with the conversation so that I can speak coherently about what I want to talk about. Sometimes in conversation I miss some of the conversation because I am thinking about how to respond to something that was said just a minute ago. I'll admit I'm a little bit scared of the phone.....

Recently, however, some things have come up that have questioned my introvert diagnosis.... I've begun to realise that if I spend too much time on my own I crave company to be energised. During the last week a few people have posted on facebook and twitter 27 problems only introverts will understand http://www.buzzfeed.com/erinlarosa/problems-only-introverts-will-understand and I realised that I only relate to seven of them.....

I wonder if I have changed? I wonder if I have never really been a real introvert. I do get energised by spending time alone, but spending too much time alone means I need company to be energised..... When I was a teacher my time alone was important.... now.... it's important.... but my time with others is becoming more important. 

I always knew that following the call of God into ministry would challenge my very being. My very being is called, but not always ready, not always feeling worthy, and very often agitated. My very being is in God's hands, but so often tries to jump out and live within society's conventions. My very being is not so introverted any more.... 

As I journey I am changed. Sometimes this totally unsettles me.....

When I was exploring my call to ministry, in the sermon where I decided to go for it, the preacher talked about how we should not let convention get in the way of where God is calling us. She mentioned mortgages as I sat there and thought - 'why did I buy a house?' 

I still own my house, which is rented out, but there are occasions, like today, where I realise that my mortgage attachment distracts me sometimes from caring about the things that God cares about as I am reminded that it's there. I have no problems with money - I am so blessed in so many ways - God again and again provides me with just enough, however, it seems that as I change, there are things that have not changed that continue to challenge me. One of my ministry mottos is 'Let go and let God', but when money is involved sometimes that's hard, as while I am following the will of God, actually I still need to keep a grip on stuff that I own.... because I still live in the world. 

In one of our lectures last year we talked about how Old Testament Law was different to other writings around at the time as it was human centred and not money centred. When we worry about money and that comes above worrying about looking after humanity then we miss that.....

So today I am challenged. I believe that people matter more than possessions, so, while worrying is not a great thing to do.... I need to remember that if I do all the right things and live sensibly, actually, because I am in a relatively comfortable place, the money stuff will be fine.... it's the lives of the people I meet and hear about that should cause me greater anxiety than that.....

When God challenges my very being, he doesn't just challenge the introvert tendencies in me by changing me to enable me to be more effective in ministry, but he challenges me where I thought in my head I had it sorted, but in my automatic feeling responses to things, I don't necessarily do.... and I wasn't expecting that.....

Slooowwly does it.....

I love eating out. Sitting down with friends, chatting as other people serve us and we savour what is hopefully good food and don't do the washing up afterwards. For me particularly good eating out generally has to be a bit of an experience - the food needs to be good, the atmosphere needs to be right, the company engaging and I do not need to be rushed. 

Never rush me. Please never rush me.

I love the places where I am able to sit and be as I eat - where plates aren't taken away too early and nobody hovers to see if you have finished. The best people to eat out with are those who are happy to take their time and not worried about getting to the next thing. That's not always possible, but long and lazy lunches or dinners are something I really enjoy. The best food is food that is not what you would normally cook at home and brings an element of surprise or pleasure. I love tiramisu and I savour every mouthful as it reaches all of my senses. Desserts are not made to be gobbled down but are made to be savoured.....

I've gradually learned the art of quality and not quantity. It's never about the amount of food you get but it's about the taste, smell, look, feel and even sometimes sound of the food (there is something exciting about the sound of a sizzling dish as it is brought over to your table). 

One of my favourite meals out was in a restaurant in the Algarve. It was bizarrely an English country restaurant (as you do) but was the closest one to the flat in which we were staying. We'd watched the flambeing of the pancakes of the table next door... but then they came to my Creme Brulee (second favourite dessert - the crack, the smoothness) and the waiter put whatever alcohol it was in the jug, set fire to it, and poured the blue flame from jug to jug. It was spectacular. 

My nightmare meal out is at a £3.95 carvery. Pile high, eat fast, cheap food, cattle market. You know what you are going to get, but it's all the same. 

I spotted someone buying a book called 'The Art of Curating Worship' by Mark Pierson and bought it because it looked interesting. He relates this contrast of good and bad eating experiences to our experience in worship. He talks about the 'slow-food movement' which 'involves valuing time to prepare, eat, and build community through food'. He begins to explore what he calls 'slow worship' where worship is based around the culture of the community rather than around a pre-packaged worship meal that is the same all the time. The time taken to prepare, experience and build community through worship is really important. Pierson says that the idea of 'slow worship' might mean that we come to worship with a real expectation that we will encounter God. 

When I eat out I savour the experience. 

When our worship services are clinical or pre-packaged or something to get over with so we can get on with the day then we might as well eat at a cheap carvery..... it'll do, for a moment, but is it an experience worth having? 

Boats in the Street

I've been reading a book by Jess Walter called 'Beautiful Ruins'. It's about people whose lives cross for different reasons and the beautiful and dysfunctional relationships that are built at those crossing places. I'm about half way through and despite it doing what many books do these days and jumping from place to place and year to year I am engrossed and understand who relates to who and kind of why. It speaks about how we put up with what we have because it is familiar or because we want to make atonement for disappointing people or because we know no better than to act in the way we do. 

One of the main characters in the book is a film director called Michael Deane. Where I am up to currently he is portrayed as a bit of an idiot but with an intriguing past - a past he doesn't appear to want to reveal but comes to hit him in the face again and again. He has a fierce loyalty to people he has met, giving them the opportunity to try and make something of their film ideas (although rejecting too many) and providing space for them to be heard out (even if only by his assistant). 

We first meet Michael Deane when he is in Rome creating a film. He shows the man who has sought him out (Pasquale) the 'Sinking boat fountain' or the Fontana della Barcaccia which is in a square that used to get flooded often before river walls were built. After one such flood in the 16th Century a boat was left behind. The boat was simply dumped randomly in the disaster and the artist who created the fountain has captured some of that. 

Michael Deane shows Pasquale the fountain and says this (thinking about the mistake Pasquale has come to confront him with):

'.... sometimes there is no explanation for the things that happen. Sometimes a boat simply appears on a street. And as odd as it may seem, one has no choice but to deal with the fact that there's suddenly a boat on the street.'

This struck me as I read it this morning. In trying to understand what happens in life, we try and analyse and bring logic into the situation. This boat - the explanation was there - the flood - the waters going, leaving it behind. Yet why there and why then? We get stuck looking at the boat and wonder what would have happened if it had been different, but what we've got to deal with is the fact that the boat is there and even when it has been dismantled and taken away, the memory of the boat is left behind, as in the fountain. 

How do we deal with it? 

Sometimes it's not trying to understand and accepting that the boat needs to be walked away from. 

Sometimes it's taking the boat apart, bit by bit and building something new from the materials. 

Sometimes it's remembering the devastation left by the boat, coming back to it occasionally, but not letting it distract us. 

Sometimes it's simply accepting that the boat is there, that we'll have to continue to deal with it, that we'll never know why, but that that is OK.

One of my favourite disciples is Peter. In Matthew 14 we read the story of Jesus walking on the water and calling to Peter to 'come'. Peter does, but then he doubts and he calls out for help. Jesus gently tells him off for not believing that he could come to him. As we deal with the boats in the street and try and do it alone, we've got to remember that Jesus says 'come' - and one step at a time we might make the boat less of an influence as with each step we trust in him just that little bit more that he knows (that he is) the way.... and..... what we don't understand is in his hands and he carries it for us in our confusion and hurt.  

Real life graphs are not all the same

When I was at secondary school I was proud of the fact that I was 'an individual' - I didn't go with the crowd. I was also very lonely as because I was a bit different I didn't really fit in. At school the in-crowd was not where I wanted to be, I was too much of a geek for the people who were trying to fit in with the in-crowd and I was never very confident and struggled to make friends.

Because I have always been on the edge, not quite fitting in to any particular group, sometimes in the centre of the group, but then gradually pushed to the edge, I realised quite quickly that people don't necessarily expect you to be different to them. If someone is found out to be different they're seen as the odd one and difficult to understand. I also began to recognise that people react to news in different ways. Some people want to share their news with the whole world, talking it through, solving problems alongside others and exploring ideas together. Others will keep their news to themselves until it becomes something that is not news any more and they have dealt with it and don't want to analyse it. Then there are all the extremes in between. There are people who want others to fix their problems, and others who don't believe they have a problem to fix ..... 

The thing is when you live in a diverse community (like church should be) is that everyone is not like you. Too often we expect people to be just like us. One of the privileges of being a minister is that people open up to you - they tell you about their lives and what makes them tick. They tell you the story of their faith journey and how they relate to God now. They reveal something of how they deal with life's problems and difficulties and as you get to know them you know how to care for them. 

If as a minister I assumed everyone dealt with life like me I'd miss the beautiful diversity in the people I care for. We are all made in God's image and in the way we relate to others in community we can express that in big ways as we learn about one another, know one another, give space to one another and serve one another. 

We've got to realise that people are different. We've got to recognise that what would make one person shout for joy makes another feel complete peace - it doesn't mean they haven't experienced the same thing, it just means they are different people, expressing their feelings in different ways.

When I was teaching real life graphs I would often get my classes to draw a graph of their emotions during the day. Some pupils would draw big ups and downs. Some would have a flatter line with small troughs and hills. Some would say, emotions? What are they? I don't want to talk about them. 

My graph is quite flat. I get grumpy, but I don't weep very often. I smile, but I don't scream with delight. I probably won't tell you about it or ask you to analyse it with me, I'm a mathematician - mathematicians solve problems alone most of the time.....but I'm there.... level headed and journeying on. 

When we are journeying with others its important to recognise what graph they would draw. God made us all different, and we have to celebrate that, but also honour one another in our differences - never expecting anyone to act exactly like us.

 "I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn’t just a single part blown up into something huge. It’s all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, “I’m not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don’t belong to this body,” would that make it so? If Ear said, “I’m not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don’t deserve a place on the head,” would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it".                                      1 Corinthians 12:14-18    

'Maybe I don't want to talk to you right now'

I am the sort of person who is happy to spend time with people in companionable silence. I don't need to talk. The thing that makes companionable silence different to just silence is that it doesn't become awkward. There is a recognition that just being there makes the difference and if there are silences it doesn't matter. There is space to enjoy your own thoughts and know that the other person doesn't mind. You don't need to fill the silence, because the silence makes the time together better. 

Now I have a bit more time in my life, because college has broken up for the summer, and the weather is unusually non-Lancashire (in that it is dry) I have been trying to walk more. Yesterday I walked to one of the most beautiful places I can walk to from my house (within a sensible length of time). I always forget how beautiful it is until I walk there. The last time I walked there was in deep snow, but this time it was in full blown summer, and although the same place it was very different. 

There are a few reasons why I walk. Firstly, it is good for me. Secondly, I enjoy it - it helps me stomp out some of the frustrations of the days and gives me time to reflect and thirdly because it is where God and me sometimes have a bit of a conversation - where God speaks to me most - maybe because I just have time to be. 

On the way to the most beautiful place I said to God, 'so tell me, what is it you want me to do next'. I felt him saying to me, 'maybe I don't want to talk to you right now, maybe I just want to walk with you as you enjoy your surroundings'.

There's always that moment when you think, 'well is that actually what God is saying?', yet this made me stop in my tracks. Sometimes we can be so busy looking to the next, we forget the beauty of what is around.... and because of that I walked through the most beautiful place slowly and looked up and around. 

The most beautiful place is a wood, a wood where there are dark places the sun doesn't get to, that even after the recent sunny days are still boggy, a wood where the sunlight shines through and dapples the path ahead, a wood where there are many different types of trees - some old, some new, but beautiful (trees are actually really quite beautiful). 

I noticed that a lot of the trees had branches that were twisting and turning as they were reaching to the light - like the growth in the canopy above changed year on year so the direction of growth of the trees changed year on year. The path of growth is always heading upwards but stops and changes direction from side to side when it needs to. Fixed on the light it knows where to go. 

I often wonder when we try and look at the light of God we look to the step ahead on the road we are going in first before we look at where we are now in relation to him. If we only look in the direction we know then we miss where God's light is actually shining. Yesterday God's light was shining on where I was right then - he wanted me to appreciate his beauty in creation, seeing how creation responds to him and the natural laws he has created. 

God and me in companionable silence. Sometimes that's all I need and I forget that as I wait for something profound. Right now I am determined to rest with him as I wait..... no awkward silence, just peace. 

Welcome to Narnia

One of the key points for me in Narnia has always been the lampstand. It represents a world come from to a world revealed. It is a key signpost home and it has links with the past. 

I am blessed to live in a beautiful part of the country where we have our own hill. We don't actually own it, but if you live in Ramsbottom then Holcombe Hill is your hill. It rises above the town, marking a boundary point and an observation point. On top of the hill is Peel Tower that you can see for miles around. When you are coming home, the tower appears, so you know home is near. Living at the foot of the hill occasionally there is an urge to climb the hill. The last time that happened to me was on Easter Monday on 4 hours of sleep. This morning at 6am I had that urge again. 

The thing with climbing the hill is that it takes you above and outside of real life. You can look down, and this morning particularly clearly, even see as far as Manchester. You gradually remove yourself from the world of normality and get time to stop and think. At the top of the hill is a bench. That bench is one of the best placed benches I know with amazing views, yet rarely when I want to sit on it is there anyone else on it - there is always space to sit and be. 

When I go up the hill from my house I tend to go up a cobbled old road. On this road, about half way up, is a lamp post. It's a proper Narnia lamp stand. This morning it signified the removal of myself from all the agitation of everyday life. At that point on the walk I felt I was entering Narnia - an imaginary world detached from the mundane, the irritation, the problems. 

Narnia is not a place where problems disappear. When you think about Narnia it is not a fantasy world of perfection like many other children's books might portray as the problems of the world left are still there, but different. Edmund is still an idiot and makes the wrong choices, Lucy is still an annoying small child, but with great wisdom, Peter is still the annoying older brother, but who wants to look out for his siblings. Susan is still Susan (I never really liked Susan - don't know why). 

Going past the lampstand for me today was not a run away from the problems and difficulties and agitations of normal life but was a step aside from them. A chance to look down and across at them and to say 'God, here you go, help me with this, what's your perspective?'.

When you take some time and sit apart from the world that troubles you it is easier to get some God perspective.

We can't expect to take ourselves into a Narnia of oblivion where all our problems disappear - that place doesn't exist, but in Narnia we might expect to meet Aslan - who in the stories is symbolic of Jesus who takes all of our burdens, helps us to carry them and gives us peace. 

Jesus said this:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”                                   Matthew 11:28-30 MSG