I know the heart of life is good

I was trying to think of a word to describe how I'm feeling - busy, too much to do, over-stressed, but yet feeling something that isn't exactly "everything for the best in this best of all possible worlds" optimism, but is a certainty that things are going to be OK. Then I remembered this song.

Today is the second day of the rest of your life

It's so easy to make a new start. All you have to do is wake up in the morning and say "Today is going to be different"; meet someone inspiring and think "I want to be just like them"; read a book that changes your life and resolve "I will take the first step"; wake up in the gutter and decide "Never again." Starting a new life is easy. Continuing a new life, now that's hard.

How long does the energy last? How long will shame or ambition motivate you? How do you make that change stick? How long before the gutter calls you back? It could be days or weeks or months or hours, but there has to be a second step after the first, and that can be really tough.

It's inspiring, deciding to change. There's a buzz about it. Fresh from that book or conversation or personal moment of clarity, life seems new, everything is possible. But on the second day, in second week, month, hour, it's not so new any more. Doing the new thing is... getting kind of the same.

If this was a different kind of blog, there'd be a list to follow of the top five points to get through the second day. There'd be helpful links to my ebook "Making Change Stick" (order now and get 25% discount). There'd at least be an inspiring personal story. This is not that kind of blog - sorry about that - so you just get the questions, without the easy resolution. Maybe another day. Or not.

Epiphany

Today, 6th January, is the day when we celebrate Epiphany: the visit of the Magi to Jesus. It's also traditionally the day when we take down Christmas decorations. It's the end of Christmastide, and the beginning (depending on your tradition - if you're a Christian) either of Ordinary Time or of the season of Epiphany. It tends, however, to feel much more like an end than a beginning. The Christmas lights are turned off; the baubles put away; the tree goes either back in the attic or to be chopped up for composting. The house feels feels bigger and emptier and somehow much more bare than it did before Christmas. And Ordinary Time (which comes from the same Latin root as "ordinal" - the numbers like first, second, third) feels like just counting off the weeks and, well, ordinary. In some traditions the Christmas crib is left for a while longer, and figures of three kings with gold, frankincense and myrrh are placed next to the infant Jesus. But that's the end of the Christmas story - bar the slaughter of the innocents (which is another story that never seems to make it into children's Bibles).

Why does this feel so much like an ending? In the early years of Christianity, as it spread, it made good sense to co-opt existing festivals. As people who celebrated a mid-winter festival became Christians, it was helpful to be able to say "You already know that in the middle of winter, something amazing happens: the days begin to get longer again. You talk about this using the language of birth, of newness. The Good News is that you're right! What you've been grasping at is the truth, that Jesus was born, and that the midwinter of your sin and shame is melting away." But this was part of a cycle (you just wait until the Spring of Resurrection), whereas now I think that we tend to see our festivals as discrete parcels of time. Never mind that in consumer culture the bulk of the festival happens before the event, rather than after; too many centuries of clocks have made us not very good at thinking of continuous time. We forget that the events we celebrate: births and birthdays, achievements, victories and memorials, are milestones, not destinations. They mark where we are on a journey; they're not an end in themselves, which we then reluctantly abandon to move on to the next distant target.

So I hope that Epiphany, for you and for me, is not the start of something, but the continuation of something. The Magi brought gifts which referred to Jesus' adult roles as king, priest and sacrifice. They were, in fact, for life, not just for Christmas. I hope your Christmas has been good. But I also hope that it is the kind which leads to many days of Ordinary goodness.

Joy

I got too little sleep last night; I've recently both been bereaved and become unemployed; the car has broken down and I don't have enough money to repair it, and yet when I was walking up to Tesco in the freezing cold this morning because we had no bread, I was so happy I felt like singing.

Recently I've been waking up in the morning feeling happy, with an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness for all the good things I have. I am amazingly blessed. And more than that, I have an incredible source of joy, deep down inside me, that is far better than any transient feelings of happiness.

For anyone who says "I want some of whatever he's on," I'm afraid that you might not like the answer, because corny as it sounds in this superficial and cynical age, I'm fairly sure that this is down to Jesus. My joy is linked to knowing that I am loved, with an overwhelming, unbelievable, astonishing, world-saving, death-conquering love, and that nothing, not unemployment or bereavement or malfunctioning Renaults or cold morning walks to Tesco can ever separate me from that love.

On being adored

There's a lot to be said for being adored. In Moulin Rouge Ewan McGregor sings, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return", but there's a very special feeling that comes from knowing that someone, somewhere, thinks the world of you. Someone has a photo of you placed so that you are always in the corner of their eye. Someone checks your Facebook page several times a day, and when there's nothing new to see, looks through all the pictures that they've already seen a thousand times. Someone wonders what you think, imagines what you might say, constructs variations on variations on an imaginary conversation with you about the nothing-very-much most important things in the world.

Of course it won't last. It's not love. But it is, right now, just wonderful.

My job

On my way into work today (bus, not bike: I'm too tired and having to transport the laptop as well was the final straw) I seriously considered going and telling my boss that in fact I have been lying misrepresenting the facts when speaking to her recently. I rehearsed in my head as the bus went along Portsmouth Road how I had thought that saying I was happy with my work would be the most politic course of action. I went over the Itchen Bridge relishing the feel of the words "To be honest, I hate this job. It's just filling in pointless forms recording things that I couldn't care less about." And I arrived in town pleased that my mental health would no longer be adversely affected by having to smile and pretend that all this corporate nonsense held even the slightest interest to me.

Then I walked past Blackwells and was immediately seduced by a "Buy One Get One Free" offer on Teach Yourself books. On going into the shop, I found that in a small display, there were three books on writing (this, this and this). It was the work of a moment to acquire an even number of books, and I was out of the shop, reflecting on the kindness of Divine Providence in putting inexpensive guides to writing for a career in my way just when I was utterly sick of my current employment. (The more rational and sceptical of my readers will be relieved to know that I also reflected on my propensity to invoke the Divine for doing something I really wanted to do anyway - particularly when it involved spending money.)

My boss wasn't in the office this afternoon, so I didn't have an opportunity to ask her for a quiet chat. I did spend a little time submitting an article (which I'd written previously - not during work time today) to Triond, and followed a link from there to Helium, which looks quite promising. I have to say, even the sniff of a chance to earn money from writing has cheered me up - so much so that I sat in a meeting and agreed to work on the Quality section of the Community Services Contract and barely felt an urge to run screaming from the room.

Isaiah 6

Image via WikipediaI was a bit despondent during and after last night's Celebration, so rather than going to the quiz, I went home to have a bit of a read of my Bible and try and think and pray a bit. As usual, the plan got a bit derailed, but I did eventually go upstairs and opened up the Bible here. The thing that really struck me from this was that Isaiah didn't hear God asking who He should send until after he'd had the coal touched to his lips. Often I think that I want to do whatever God wants me to do, but I'm just too sinful/lazy/messed up. What struck me was that Isaiah didn't hear a request from God, and then say "Oh no, I'm too sinful." His cry of "Woe is me! I am ruined!" is just from being in the presence of God, and at that point the angel basically says "It's OK, don't worry, we've got that sorted" (note that Isaiah didn't have to DO anything - apart from possibly saying "Don't put that glowing coal in my face"), and it's then that Isaiah hears God saying "Whom shall I send?" and he can volunteer.

Maybe it's obvious, but rather than moaning "I just wish I knew what God wanted me to do", I could (a) acknowledge that I'm not worthy even to come into His presence and (b) accept - really accept - that all my sinfulness and guilt has been taken away, then maybe I'd be able to hear more clearly what He wants me to do.

My life as a to-do list

Image via WikipediaA week or so ago I was talking about all the things I had to do for the rest of that day (I think it was last time we had lunch at church) and I finished up with "and then I've got to go to the quiz", which was met with a general sarcastic response along the lines of "Oh gosh, that must be awful, fancy having to do that." Of course, that was the right thing to say to my rather silly remark - there are probably few things more tiresome than someone telling you how much they have to do, especially when the things they "have" to do are in fact pleasure and leisure - but I have been thinking since about the extent to which (a) I bore people by repeatedly telling them how much I have to do and (b) I actually think of my life as a long list of things I have to get done. To anybody who reads this who has had (a) inflicted on them: sorry, I will try and be more mindful of this in future; (b), on the other hand, is altogether more serious and scary. Am I really going through life looking at the wrong end of a never-ending list of stuff that has to get done? Do I really think of time with my family as just another thing that has to be done, so that I can then get on with something else? The answer to this one is, no, I don't - but I do often spend time doing stuff I enjoy while simultaneously thnking of the other things that I have to do that need doing. What's scary is that if my life is a list, I will never ever get to the end, will never tick everything off and feel pleased with myself for a job well done. Not today or tomorrow or next week, not when I retire or on my deathbed; I will never get to the end of the list, because the list isn't real, it's just a way of looking at life that actually robs me of opportunities for joy and leaves me overwhelmed with the crushing weight of twenty or thirty or forty years of endless bloody stuff to do.

Self-Improvement

I have discovered a great way to put off addressing personal issues: read about how to deal with personal issues. Your local library or bookshop will have dozens, if not hundreds of titles on improving your relationships, your emotional intelligence, your productivity; if you start looking online you'll never get to the end of all the web pages and blog posts about self-improvement, from the stirring and inspiring to the wacky and plagiarised. You can find quotations, exhortations, bullet points and diagrams, podcasts, animations and fifteen-step guides, all pointing you towards the new, improved and all-around better you. And if you think it's not for you, think again: everybody can benefit! And if you're not sure you deserve all these riches: you are a beautiful, unique and worthwhile person. And if it's all a bit too scary: hey, just feel the fear and do it anyway!

There is no alternative to the idea that I must want my life to improve. Why wouldn't I? I can overcome (with help) my fear and low self-esteem, improve my energy levels and de-clutter my life, until I no longer have any reason or excuse not to make my life better and better.

Don't get me wrong. Lots of this stuff is useful, and most of the time I'd like to feel better and happier. Some of the time I'd even be prepared to work for that goal. But sitting and thinking about how great my life could be, or how great it ought to be, is as unproductive and unhelpful as thinking how miserable my life is; sitting looking at cookery books when you're hungry doesn't fill your stomach.

Work, necessity of

I saw a card yesterday that said "So you hate your job? Did you know there's a support group for that? It's called 'Everyone'. We meet at the bar." It quite amused me, and reminded me that not enjoying work is not a sign of underlying pathology (if everybody has the same pathology, that's referred to as 'being human'.) Along with my recent thoughts on procrastination I've also been thinking about how I feel about work in general. Now I have to admit that I've never been convinced by statements about the nobility of work; generally I tend to see the advantages of not doing anything much. But, to get all dialectical for a moment, it is possible that I've learned my attitude to inactivity by growing up in a society where work is the norm and time off is to be prized, and by living in a small house with many children, where there is never a shortage of things that need doing. So sitting around not doing much isn't necessarily good in itself, but seems an attractive proposition when contrasted with doing lots and lots all the time. Somewhere along the line I think I slipped over into doing-nothing-much-is-a-good-thing-in-itself land, where leisure, rest and downright indolence are an alternative to work, rather than a complement to work.

This seems important in a way that's hard to pin down.

In Bridge to Terabithia there's a quote that's attributed to Teddy Roosevelt: "Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing." Work worth doing? Gosh, define that. Worth doing by whose standards? If mine, then does anyone else have to agree with me? If not mine, then is that really the "best prize"? And I've not even got started on "working hard". So I would love to dismiss statements like this as the kind of propaganda that keeps the proletariat enslaved, but there is something that it stirs in me, something that suggests maybe I was created to work, that happiness is not sitting by a stream all day, not even sitting there until I feel completely ready to go and get on with the working week, but is maybe closer to sitting by a stream on one day, after enough of the work for the week has been done.

Procrastination

I'm becoming increasingly fed up with myself for not getting things done. There are lots of reasons behind this, which is one of the things I've been talking about in counselling sessions recently (which may be why I'm getting more frustrated about it), but more often than not it comes down to a simple choice not to do something. There may be all kinds of payoffs for inaction (or alternative, displacement action) and there may be complex and longstanding learned behaviours at work; it may well be the case that I choose not to do something that will be boring or unpleasant; still when the moment comes when I could do something, I make the choice not to do it.

Maybe I should use this blog (or now that I'm into microblogging, use Twitter) to record some successes - things I actually get done - and give myself some positive reinforcement.

Happy genes

An article by Reuters reports on a study that finds that half of the traits influencing our happiness are genetically determined. It goes on to say that

"People who are sociable, active, stable, hardworking and conscientious tend to be happier"

Hey, at least I'm stable. Well, fairly stable. Sometimes.

Damn.

Thursday lunchtime (thinking about heaven)

Using my lunch break to do a bit of blogging; been doing a lot of thinking recently, much of which is related to therapy, so will not be in the public domain, but has brought me back to ideas about control and frustration, and what happens when the "real" world (the world-as-experienced) is different from SteveWorld™, where everything happens the way I want it to and everyone feels the way I think they should. Apart from my personal stuff, it did make me think about the way in which everyone, to some extent or another, has their own version of [Insert Name Here]World. We wouldn't feel disappointed or angry or frustrated or outraged unless the world-as-experienced was different from the world-as-we-think-it-ought-to-be. This isn't really news when we're thinking about this life; however, I think that there's a temptation to carry on doing it when we're thinking about heaven. Once we get beyond ideas about people in dresses sitting around on clouds, I think that there's a tendency to think about heaven as a place (/situation/experience) where we are happy and have our needs met and there's no more mourning or crying or pain; a place where life-as-experienced is exactly the same as life-as-we-think-it-should-be. Heaven gets sold as always doing the things you love best and feeling happy and never being bored. But I'm not too sure about this now. Jesus pretty much says that eternal life is exactly not all the best bits from this life, and there's lots of stuff in the gospels about treating other people in ways that might not make us happy, or about being prepared to give up everything. Maybe the joy of heaven is the joy of being with God, reunited in the one relationship that eternally tells us the uplifting truth of who we really are, recreated and renewed as we were intended to be made by the One who doesn't make mistakes; but maybe this means that the joy of heaven is joy for those who feel a reflection of that joy here in this life; heaven isn't eternal golf for fanatical golfers and eternal dancing for clubbers and eternal Sunday morning lie-ins for parents: heaven is being with God, and if being with God isn't your highest and greatest and best happiness here and now, then maybe heaven won't be for you.

OK, obviously need to do a lot more thinking about this, but I'm trying very hard to do work stuff during work time, and I've already exceeded my allotted lunch break so I'll have to stop.

100

This is the 100th post on this blog, and to mark this occasion I've just sat and read all of the previous 99 in order. Gosh, don't I go on and on and on about the same old stuff! There are a couple of pieces in there that I think are worth reading, that make me think I'm glad I wrote that thought down. Sadly these are the minority of posts, and I feel quite ambivalent about the fact that I am not very different from how I was 15 months ago. I'm pleased that I don't feel quite the same way, that I have moved on; on the other hand it's sobering to see that I haven't really changed very much, and that a lot of the things that I think are "progress" are simply reworking the same old ground. Maybe one good thing is that I'm more hopeful, that joy is still a transient experience (which I think is one of the characteristics of joy anyway, but that's a subject for one of the next 100 posts), but a slightly more common one. Now to see if I can manage to get to post number 200 before April 2009!

Happy New Year

Good grief! I've just looked at this blog and realised that I hadn't posted anything since November, and that wasn't exactly chatty and uplifting. Thankfully, I'm feeling more positive than I did back then, so I will try and put slightly more on here in the next few weeks and months. This isn't a New Year's resolution: I haven't made any, partly because I never keep them, but also because I'm a chronic maker of resolutions, and I know that keeping on saying to myself "From now on, I will/will not do x any more" is often another way of saying "I don't like myself because I do/don't do this thing", which then means that when I don't keep that resolution, I've confirmed what a no good/unreliable/unlikeable person I am. So, no resolutions.

Not that this means I'm not aiming to be more like the person I was created to be, or that I don't want to improve my relationships, or that there is nothing I want to achieve. But rather than setting a list of tasks and targets, I'm more interested in developing my relationship with God and allowing him to change me. That way, the things that I do more or less of are outward signs of internal change, rather than things to beat myself up with.

Ups and downs

One of the things I really hate about depression is that when I have a down couple of days, it feels so much like things will never improve. If I was down all the time, or if I had an Eeyore personality, then I presume either I'd think that things might get better one day, or I'd give up entirely. But when I have a few good days, or a good week, and then go back to feeling sluggish, lethargic and hopeless, it feels so much worse. I guess that one of the first things to go in a down spell is the belief that I can do anything about it. Being happier seems to go along with feeling more in control, more able to get things done. Being down inevitably goes with feelings of being overwhelmed, of not being able to make anything better, no matter how much I want to.

Hope springs eternal, just not very high.

A bit of thinking

A lot of the things I've been reading recently around "emergent" Christianity have brought my thinking back to ideas around why we often do things wrong, and why we should bother trying to do things right. Of course, this isn't an emergent idea as such, or even a Christian one, but I've found that the books and web pages that I've looked at have generally been concerned with how to live as a Christian today, and that includes revisiting some of these old questions. One of the main reasons for re-examining basic ideas like this is the move to what has been called "post-Christendom": a society in which Christianity is once more a minority religion and it is no longer the case that politicians and policy-makers "should" make decisions based on Christian values simply because a small group of people say so. So the moral and ethical standards that were part of society in the culture of Christendom are no longer taken for granted, and we have to ask similar questions to those asked by the Early Church, including variants of "Why shouldn't I just do what everyone else is doing (especially since they seem to be enjoying it so much)?" Of course, this applies, and has always applied, on a personal as well as a social level: "What does it mean to live a good life?" and "Why is it important?" are for every single person to answer in a way that makes sense to them. I think that the Good News is that there is a way to find an answer that makes sense; I also think that the questions have to be asked.

I feel like the church is trying hard to keep going with a Christendom mindset, that they are telling people what they must and should do, with the threat of a punishment in Hell that a lot of people don't believe in or the promise of a reward: either in a heaven that people don't believe in either or in a life of contentment and purpose that people feel they can attain in dozens of other ways without having to believe in anything at all.

And that, I think, is the problem: the church tells people what they have to believe, and makes decisions (or says that God makes decisions) based on what they believe. The question "Have you accepted Jesus as your saviour?" is a question about what you think is true. Now I'm sure that we are saved by faith - but this is faith as opposed to deeds, not faith that saves us by affirming a credal statement. I have no idea about whether or not God will make decisions at the Last Judgement that involve a record of whether people acknowledged Jesus as Lord, but there is some evidence that that won't be the only criterion. And a church that preaches salvation only as going to Heaven, or as being saved from Hell, has already lost those who don't believe in Heaven and Hell, just as a church that tells people they can be happy now will be told that sex or drinking or friends or career satisfaction is making people happy enough thank you very much. I did a talk a while back about Paul being happy that Christ was being preached, no matter what the motivation of the preacher; I mentioned then that I think our testimonies and our example do not transform people's lives; it is Jesus Christ that does that. And more and more, as I read and think about this, I become convinced that religion doesn't save people. Christianity never changed anyone. All the teaching and preaching and Bible reading in the world has never transformed a single life. Jesus does. Jesus saves us; Jesus changes us; Jesus transforms us. We do not become better people (whatever that means) by trying harder: we become the people we are intended to be through a relationship with the one who made us. We don't feel better or happier or richer or healthier by following the rules: our lives get closer to the picture of the way we should live that is in the Bible the closer we are to God. If a husband loves his wife (that is, he puts her wishes and needs before his own), then he will not be unfaithful; if he puts his own needs and wishes first, then it is more likely. If someone loves God, (that is, she puts His requirements and wishes before her own), then she will truly desire to follow the moral code as taught by Jesus; if she puts herself first then it is so much easier to follow whatever seems most attractive at any given moment.

I know that I have a lot more thinking to do about this, and that many many people have thought through all this before, often more coherently. But I really think that unless we get back to telling people less about church and more about Jesus, unless we follow Jesus instead of just following the rules, unless we give up trying to change and instead let ourselves be changed, then we, as a church, as the Body of Christ and his representation here on earth , have already failed in the mission he gave us.

P.S.

And my knee hurts.

Work

Have I moaned recently about how much I hate my job? Moan, moan, moan, etc. Unfortunately saying "I hate my job" is simply a bit of convenient buck-passing; a way to avoid how I actually feel. This is easier to spot when someone asks me what I hate about my job. Is it the hours? The people? The amount of work? The environment? Do you have a horrible boss? At this point, if I'm being honest, I have to say that for the money I'm earning, the job is wonderful: regular hours (yes, there's an expectation that you will work evenings and weekends, but if you don't, nothing bad happens) - I work more or less 9-5 Mon-Fri and don't take work home with me; there is plenty to do, but nothing that I couldn't do in my working hours if I actually got on with it; I share a modern, well-designed and comfortable office with a whole bunch of people who are generally pleasant - I wouldn't call any of them friends - but then I can't think of anyone I've worked with in the last eight years or so who I would consider a friend; my boss is supportive well beyond the bounds of what she has to do in employment law. So what's the problem? The problem is that I feel anxious and miserable at the thought of going to work, and when I'm at work I spend most of my time wishing that I weren't there or putting off doing what I'm supposed to be doing because I feel so anxious and horrible that I want to run out of the door. And if it's not the work or the working conditions, that means it must be me. But then again, I don't feel this bad when I'm not at work: insecure and generally having a low opinion of myself, yes, but not feeling this bad.

The likelihood is that it's a combination of factors, or that I've learned to associate particular feelings with certain environments or behaviours, or that I can successfully project my negative feelings onto work. (All that money spent on therapy over the years wasn't wasted then!) The question, as always, is: What am I going to do about it?

And this is the point at which I run out of useful ideas. Yes, every morning I pray for the strength and the ability to put in a productive day at work, and every night I regret that I didn't try harder with what strength I had. Yes, I could look for another job - but what if I feel the same there? And in any case, few employers would take on someone with my absence record. ("What were your significant achievements in your last post?" "Umm...I turned up occasionally?") Yes, I ask my boss to be hard on me, to ask me what I've been doing if I can't show her anything productive from that day or that week, but it doesn't make me feel any better, it just adds another layer of worry and feelings of failure.

I know that this doesn't answer any questions, and I don't really believe that the catharsis of blogging will change anything; I wanted to post something and this is the main thing on my mind, that's all.

Caffeine and Christ

I'm still feeling ill after drinking way too much coffee at last night's Conversation. I was still hyped when we got to the pub but started a comedown during the quiz, which wasn't fun: when we got there I put seven or eight names on the picture sheet as soon as I looked at it; by the time we got to the results I didn't care if we won or not, I just wanted to go home and curl up in a ball. Of course when I did get home and go to bed, I still couldn't sleep for hours.

Had an interesting few moments during Conversation, when PV asked me how I thought my talk had gone, and other people around the table shared what they thought of it - or more specifically what it had been about. I know that people never hear exactly what I think I'm saying - on account of them not being me - and I'm sure that God uses what I say in order to push different people in different directions, but it was a shock to hear not only what people thought I'd said, but how they had made changes in response to it. A real "the medium is the message" moment: just because I was standing at the front, people attributed more importance to my words than I expected them to. PV also mentioned that he wants the new curate to do some "sermon training" with me, Si V, Jon Kitching and Anthony Scammell, which I think I feel enthusiastic about: at least I feel moderately enthusiastic about the chance to learn some stuff and try it out in practice, though less enthusiastic about the time commitment.

There's also a nagging worry for me that this is a big temptation to fall into Pride; another chance to start thinking how amazingly good I am at doing stuff for God: I know it's a very short step from there to doing stuff for me and my benefit. Being high on caffeine is a bit like being drunk, in that it does bring out the less nice side of me, and I suspect that I was coming across last night as more than a bit opinionated; I certainly think I was saying stuff that would make people think I was clever rather than help people to feel I was listening to them and trying to join them where they were.

At the moment my feeling is that if I can be brave enough and unselfish enough to genuinely give myself and my life to Christ, then he will help me to become who I am, far better than if I try to change myself. And if I truly become myself in Christ by relinquishing all claim on my own life, then (and only then) can I genuinely and effectively use who I am to serve God and others without being afraid that I'm still a spoilt child shoulting "Look at me! Look at me!"