Surviving the Wilderness Experience
The same ‘wilderness’ experience has struck again. The editor of Touchstone asked me to write an article about how the last year as President has gone, and I cannot think of what to write. I guess I could just stop there and apologise to her, but pride drives me on and leads me to think again about that earlier experience.
Sometimes in church life we come to a point when we do not know what to do or say next. We think we need to move (or there is a sermon needed for Sunday) but do not know the next step. It is a bit like getting lost on a long walk. Which reminds me of a story my wife told me about her parents before they were married. They were out walking in the mountains of the Lake District UK and were unable to find their night’s destination because of fog. They could have chosen to continue but might have risked slipping and falling down a steep hillside or they might have simply wandered aimlessly all night. They eventually decided to find a safe dry spot, huddle up and wait for the dawn. At dawn they discovered that they were within yards of their intended destination. They had to get through that time of darkness before they could see this!
There are times as individuals, parishes or even a national church, that we need to spend some time in the dark, huddled up together, waiting for the dawn of God’s inspiration before the light comes and we are suddenly able to discern our destination. In those liminal times (as they are called) God’s way forward is not discovered by using our reasoning powers, or by blindly going on in some vague direction, risking falling down some spiritual cliff, but by taking time out, sitting quietly with God, listening carefully for the still small voice within.
This was something of what went on in the last year for our Church. We held some wānanga, including two I attended (one about liturgy and another about changes to the Church’s disciplinary process), and at least three others (one on Climate Justice, another about communication and another on archives). Reflection and waiting were prominent in these wānanga as folk discerned the way forward. These periods of reflection and waiting needed to take place before some of the discussions at our online Conference held last month in Hastings. For me, the most significant was the change of disciplinary process from retribution to reconciliation which signals a healthier way we wish to deal with conflict in the Church, and I believe it is more in keeping with God’s Rule upon our common life.
Also as I reflect on my first year as President sometimes I knew what I was doing, other times I was guided by people who perhaps know best, still other times I simply waited quietly for some movement of God’s Spirit within me. There have been tricky conversations to be had, careful emails to write, crafted sermons and talks to share. As the year has gone by the ‘fog’ of being seemingly ‘lost’ has gradually lifted, replaced by a level of confidence that I did not know I had. I suppose part of this comes from the respect our people have for the President (note – I am no one special, but the President is); people listen to the President, seek help from the President, respond to the invitations from the President. And all this has given me opportunities for service, which has tied in well with our first-year theme of Servant Ministry.
A further thing about those liminal times – as we deepen our silence, our trust in God also deepens. This strengthens our hope that the God who speaks, shares and guides, will do so for us, not because we are special but because Jesus, God’s Son, is special, and we belong to Jesus, the Servant King. This thought will guide me now that my second year has begun.
God’s inspiration will never give up on us even when it seems like it. Remember that ‘wilderness’ sermon? I was told it was one of my best ones! Amazing how God still inspires even when apparently absent.