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God isn’t a mountain, a partridge or a flower arranger.

Yesterday I was at one of my favourite Baptist places in the North East. I wanted to show some slides of our holiday as part of the all age worship and thought I'd introduce it by asking someone to tell me the meaning of the word metaphor. Thought we'd do some metaphorical theology at Sunday School level. One brave late primary grammarian gave me just the right answer: "It's something that's a bit like something else, but not the same as it." Oh yes – couldn't have said it better myself.

Then we looked at photos of Scheihallion – immovable and always there, a bit like God, but not the same as.

Next we looked at a red legged partridge with its chicks – solicitous, gathering them, protecting them from danger, a bit like God, that red legged partridge, but not the same as.

Finally a photo of nothing but flowers, hundreds of them – fragile, beautiful, transient, a bit like human beings, but not the same as – though God who is always there, and who cares for and comes close to, makes them beautiful, so how much more will he care for human beings who are worth so much more.

This metaphorical theology thing works OK so long as we remember God isn't a mountain, a partridge or a flower arranger. But God is rather permanent, eternally so; God is love that risks hurt for love of human beings, in Christ demonstrably so; and God is an artistic genius who creates beauty just for the sake of it, inexhaustibly so. And Gos is so much more.

The red legged partridge knows how to lead its chicks into camouflage – how many can you see in the photo? Clever things partridges – and that too is a bit like God!!!

15 July 2013
Jan Van Ruysbroek and Trinitarian Theology – Who? On What?

Years ago I began to read Evelyn Underhill's works on mysticism, and eventually read most of her published writing, her early Mysticism and her late Worship in the Nisbet Library of Constructive Theology, and then including retreat addresses, letters and essays. She reads as one writing from anothet time, now – but why should we be surprised, or think that in itself a disqualification of her as a spiritual writer still worth time and effort to study. Amongst the writers she introduced me to was Jan Van Ruysbroeck, whose name itself is likely to be unfamiliar to any but those interested in medieval mysticism. I must say I never followed up on Ruysbroeck after I'd moved on from reading Underhill. But recently he reappeared over my horizon.

I am doing some wider reading around Trinitarian theology including An Introduction to the Trinity by Declan Marmion and Rik Van Nieuwenhove. This is a very good book which for an introduction is theologically substantial and wide in its reach. There is a section on Ruysbroeck which I found fascinating, intriguing and in turns attractive and unsettling. Van Nieuwenhove referred to his own monograph, Jan Van Ruusbroec, Mystical Theologian of the Trinity and I've just started reading it. This is a study that seeks to redefine the essence of mysticism in terms of human transformation rather than immediate experience of God. I want to take some time to read carefully, assimilate quite unfamiliar ideas and weigh them against Scripture, tradition and experience, and do so in a way that is thoughtful, critically appreciative, humbly receptive and spiritually attentive. In other words to greet new ideas with courtesy, respect and intellectual modesty.

I will report back – for now I am enjoying reading an exposition of how spiritual theology if it is to be lived transformatively must be rooted in Trinitarian theology. The doctrine of the Trinity is diminished if the primary focus is on an exercise in speculative philosophy, or our best energies are expended on rational constructions and constantly revised defences of fixed ideas. The immanent Trinity overflows in an eternal love, the sovereign fredom of God, creating, entering and engaging with all that is as it has come into being through that same eternal creative purposes of the Triune God revealed in Christ through the Spirit.

Far from being a study of abstraction, Trinitarian theology invites openness to transformation as we are caught up into the life of the Father the Sone and the Holy Spirit, to share in that eternal fellowship of self-giving love, inflowing in returning joy, outflowing in constant gift. Ruysbroeck is a Trinitarian theologian for whom mysticism is nothing less than our awareness of conscious surrender to the transforming, renewing and cleansing grace of the God who calls us into relationships of intimacy, sacrifice and joy in God.

14 July 2013
The Return of the Prodigal Book and the Love of My Life

Three posts ago I reported the loss of Denise Levertov's little gem of a book, The Stream and the Saphhire. It went missing on holiday and I was intending to replace it. But my book has returned. It appeared on my desk while I was away at College. I'd like to suggest this was a miracle, an act of gracious providence, God in His mercy making good heartfelt loss, evidence that in the life of faith God intervenes on a daily basis with blessings unlooked for. Now I believe all of these possibilities.

The book which I left on a sun lounge had been picked up by Sheila and put for safe-keeping in her bag – I did say it was a small book. On second thoughts, Sheila found and retrieved my book, graciously looked after it, returned it and made good my heartfelt loss, and presented me with an unlooked for blessing. So my miracle, God's gracious providence, God's mercy in looking after me, and daily unlooked for blessings all coincide in Sheila.

12 July 2013
Warning from P T Forsyth: “It is a dangerous thing to work at your own holiness…”

Living in Aberdeen it is incumbent to be aware of the theological minds that have graced this city. Two of them come together in 1970, in a wee book called P T Forsyth:Per Crucem ad Lucem, written by the Professor of New Testament and former Master of Christ's College, A M Hunter. What makes this brief study of Forsyth so good is the coincidence of minds and sympathy of spirit of two men who could be called liberal evangelicals. Separated by two or three generations they were theologians of the New Testament Gospel, and Hunter had clearly found a kindred heart in the writings of Forsyth.

At one point Hunter builds boldly on Forsyth's insistence that growth in holiness is God's work not ours. "The witness of the Spirit in our hearts is 'Christ's perpetual interpretation of his own work as gospel. The Spirit lights the Bible, leads the church, anoints the ministry, and all by a constant rejuvenation of the gospel and its power to create, criticize and create anew".

Hunter goes on: "Sanctification is not self-culture….Paul did not consecrate himself to his great work. He obeyed a call and found his sanctification – his growth in grace – in the pursuit of his ministry. So we too are sanctified when we are on our Saviour's business. Growth in grace comes not by working at it but by passing ever more deeply into self-forgetfulness – into the grace, the cross and the service of Christ."

And for added emphasis here is Forsyth again, sounding like one of the magisterial Puritans he admired, Thomas Goodwin: "Seek first for the Kingdom and sanctification will be added; care for Christ and he will take care of your soul; sail by the Cross and you will sail into holiness."

Aye, those Aberdeen theologians of the Gospel knew what, and Who, they were talking about. And they were way too wise as pastoral theologians, and shrewd as psychologists to tolerate the me, me, me self-help spirituality that is often implicated in our programmatic activism as we try to make happen what in the end, and the beginning, is grace, gift and mercy.

12 July 2013
A Trinitarian Theology of Art and an Eschatology of Aesthetics.

Now I have to say at the start of this post – it won't appeal to everyone's theological interests; it's a bit obscure; you may end up wondering "what's the point, Jim"? So if you're not into reflection on the connections between art and Trinitarian theology, aesthetics and dogmatics, human creativity and contingency on the one hand and Divine creativity and eschatological telos on the other (I speak anthropomorphically!), then if you've had enough already, click elsewhere now!

What I have in mind touches on a number of strategically placed theological flying buttresses: imago dei, creation, providence, the Triune nature of God and the incarnation. I got to thinking all this when reading an essay entitled Art: A Trinitarian Imperative by Brian Horne. The main argument is that there is that in human nature and existence which is compelled to create, to express, to articulate in sound or vision, in music, word, image or object, to bring into existence that which is born within. The image of God in human being and experience is expressive; and this for two reasons.

First, the incarnate Word is the revelation of the kenotic outgoing love, enfleshed in a human life, made material, a true representation of the imago dei. The human artist exhibits the imago dei, and echoes the materiality of the incarnation in the musical notation of the concerto, the accumulated precision of brush strokes, the toilsomely shaped sculpture, the organisation of letters and words into meanings articulated, communicated and more or less comprehended. Secondly, and this is Horne's point, such a process, expressive of the divine radiance, is the human will responding freely to the movement of the Holy Spirit.' In other words art is an inner impetus towards creation originating in the human imaging of God, but that impetus and its creative expression in aesthetic articulation is the work of the Spirit of God, the creative, formative power of a love that brings into being.

This is an exciting line of thought for me. two of my main interests in theology are exploring the tradition of Christian Trinitarian thought, and seeking connections between art and theology. Horne is arguing that the divine mystery of the Trinity involves the radical immanence of the Holy Spirit, the ultimate transcendence of the Father, and 'the union of these two modes of being in the expressive form of the Incarnate Son. And from that Trinitarian standpoint he concludes that the Holy Spirit and human inspiration towards expressive art, are deeply and intentionally related in the essential created and creative nature of human beings. Quoting Von Balthasar whose pneumatology affirms the role of the Spirit as the on who mediates the glory of God, "Since the Spirit Himself is the glorification of the love between thre Father and the Son, wherein God's true glory disclosed itself to us, it is likewise only he who can bring about glorification in the world."

The idea that human art and expressiveness is inspired by, has its origins in the Holy Spirit, and echoes the divine creative impulse towards that which is loved, an urgent love which dwells in and flows from the eternal communion of the Triune God, is a powerful theological argument for artistic expression, skilled manufacture, and the sanctification of the impulse to create that which is beautiful, true and good. Horne finishes this intriguing essay:

"Since self-expressive energy has been revealed to us as the very structure of the life of God, it cannot be an activity which is optional in the life of creatures who are made in that image: it is a Trinitarian imperative. We may not choose not to create if we are to be human."

In answer to the imagined question at the start of the post, "That's my point, Jim". The Triune God of love, in whose image we are created, by whose love we are redeemed, and by whose Spirit we live and move and have our being, empowers and enables that which, in the words of a dear friend, words she uses often to end her prayers, 'Lord, bless us and make us for blessing, and wholeness and joy" Amen to that sister!

The photos on this post were taken in Amsterdam and Vienna. Van Gogh's bedroom is for me one of the most poignant and joyful portrayals of home, not only as place, but as safe space and comfortable place. The butterfly, that fragile glory of life that images transformation and resurrection, is a photo I waited a long time to take, because butterflies are not the most obliging models of God's created masterpieces. The close-up of Raphael's Madonna of the Meadows tries to capture, and all too inadequately, the most beautiful face I have seen on canvas. And the statue of Mozart in Vienna, overlooking the musical flower bed, gave me a photo that in its own quirky way celebrates a musician whose music is one of the aesthetic wonders of the world, and will be, according to one of my best friends, 'the music played in heaven.' I can go with that – Mozart's music, oh and maybe some Tallis, and Beethoven, and….well, heaven's a big place and time isn't a problem, let's just wait and see, and hear, and touch, and smell, and all to our taste.

11 July 2013
Denise Levertov and the Poetry of Justice and Intercession

To lose one book is careless; to lose two is culpable; to lose two books by the same author is unpardonable; to lose two books by Denise Levertov is expensive – because I will replace them!

Conversations with Denise Levertov was left on a train on the way back from and External Examiners Board. The Stream and the Sapphire, her collected religious poetry is now available for whoever follows us into the accommodation where we recently had a holiday. (Photo taken on said holiday) If they pick it up and read it, then they will discover one of the sharpest most compassionate spirits in contemporary poetry; they will hear a voice that beckons them into deeper water, that urges them to look and see a bigger sky, that tugs at those nameless longings another reat writer described as God putting eternity in our hearts. So I've just re-ordered it and rather than writing the abandoned copy off, I pray a blessing on the book and whoever reads it. It has been a balm in Gilead for me, and a pocket companion who seldom fails to say the right thing.

Here's a quotation I wrote down in a wee journal I kept a few holidays ago – it encouraged me to write prayers of intercession for worship that both saw, and felt and touched the hurts and wounds of the world:

A poetry articulating the dreads and horrors of our time is necessary in
order to make readers understand what is happening, really understand
it, not just know about it but feel it: and should be accompanied by a
willingness on the part of those who write it to take additional action
towards stopping the great miseries which they record.

"additional action
towards stopping the great miseries which they record" – a definition of and justification for intercessory prayer, perhaps?

9 July 2013
Well Done Andy Murray – Congratulations Big Man!

This afternoon goes down as one of the best sporting days of my life. Maybe best of them all for feel good factor!

Home grown excellence, huge commitment, an enigmatic but brilliant coach, the love of a nation, and a match that takes tennis to different levels of strength, emotional resilience and sheer imposition of will on ball and opponent.

Accompanied by roast beef sandwiches, strawberries with cream and ice cream, and a box of hand made chocolates, a gift from a grateful neighbour whose garden I did gladly dig!

It's been a great day 🙂

7 July 2013
Did You Know that Yellow is the Colour of Praise?

e.e. cummings (1894–1962)

I Thank You God…

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

The photo was taken in June looking towards the North Sea from St Cyrus. Forget Coldplay – this is yellow! The poem is one of my top 100 in any anthology, a kind of Psalm smorgasbord of praise and prayer.

7 July 2013
Of the reading of Biblical Commentaries – Well, Why Would You?

It started with John Stott's Only One Way, his exposition of Galatians. It was 1972, in Crieff, while on Summer Mission, leading a three week party in the park for a couple of hundred children. The Summer Mission Team met after breakfast for bible study – we used Stott's book. A month later it was Frances Foulkes on Ephesians, then John Stott again this time on the Epistles of John, the best Tyndale NT Commentary of them all, I think.

So I was started on reading commentaries. Derek Kidner on the Psalms, JL Mays on Amos, Derek Nineham on Mark - oops, my first encounter with liberal critical biblical scholarship – but that Pelican Commentary woke me up to the diversity of opinion and approaches to New Testament interpretation. By the time I was in College, Barrett on John, Cranfield on Romans, Childs on Exodus and so my own 40 year wanderings began, but not in the wilderness, in the orchards and vine groves of biblical exegesis, the fruit fields of text and context, and the wide harvest fields of Bible study where living bread is to be found, shared and enjoyed as food for the soul.

I am in the process of rationalising my library, reducing it to fit into our house, more or less. There isn't much surplus in a library I've culled most years, not much that is no longer needed, or unlikely to be read again, or outdated and superceded. But yes, there will be some boxes of discarded, withdrawn, – to be sold, given away, or consigned to the charity shops. Commentaries are, more than many books, likely to date as scholarly fashions change, or more importantly new knowledge and fresh insights compel revision of thought. So yes, commentaries I once valued hugely have been superceded by new and more informed scholarship; reliable guides for one generation may be just as useful and dependable to the next generation. But in fact I've always kept the biblical section as current as I could afford, with the progressions of biblical studies

Amongst the interesting items in second hand bookshops are old ordinance survey maps; the one for the Cairngorms from the 1950's will still serve as a reliable map of the mountains; but the one for East Kilbride takes no account of the new town, the expanding connurbation of Glasgow, the motorway network and the many other changes to topography that must always be reflected in good cartography. Likewise with commentaries. Think of the commentary writer as a cartographer of the text, someone whose task is to convey as clearly and accurately as possible, the lie of the land, the notable features, the network of connections. Which brings me to the reason for this long preamble in a post where, if you're not into commentaries you may have already clicked to go elsewhere!

Which would be a pity, because, this post already being long enough, you will have missed the promise to finish this story tomorrow 🙂 That post will be about exegetical integrity, or to put it in biblical language, 'rightly handling the word of truth', that Word which brings us into living relationship with the God made known to us in Jesus Christ, living and present in the church and the world by the Holy Spirit.

For now here's Ched Meyers in his commentary on Mark, a book that is both more than a commentary, or maybe less than a commentary and more like a serious talking to by a coach who calls us to account for lack of commitment, under-performing and messing about when we should be focused on what our life is about.

"In the continuous ideological struggle within the church over christology, Mark stands as the first attempt to assert a definitive "history" of Jesus. This story calls the reader back to the messianic practice that Jesus embodied, and which he enjoins on his followers in every age. Above all, the Gospel asserts the primacy of practice over speculative, cognitive faith. In the symbolic discourse of Mark, Jesus refuses to give a heavenly sign to his critics (8:12). The "sign" will appear only in the world and in history; the concrete practice of discipleship and the way of the cross.

(Meyers, Binding the Strong Man, 2008, page 109)

The tapestry is of the beautiful Hebrew word Hesed, variously lovingkindness, faithfulness, longsuffering, mercy. Myers would want these lovely abstract words concretised, because that's what following Jesus means – acting in a Hesed way.

5 July 2013
Trust is Backward Looking Too? If You Could, What Would You Change?

Sometimes when you look back this is what you see. Now it's an interesting perspective to think of your life as a journey and instead of its forward impetus and anticipated corners, you look back and see the way you've come. Except in this photo I didn't see much of the way I'd come because it's round the corner, behind me, out of sight. That too is an intriguing thought – not being able to see back round the corners you've just walked round so you have to remember what it was like, and memory is of course, selective.

Looking back on the road into Kinloch Rannoch this is what I saw. The loch, 20 something miles long; mountains in the distance, layered, hazy and beckoning; less than a hundred metres of road I had just walked, sunlit and shadowed; and a canopy of trees enveloping the visible landscape. Robert Frost's poem about the road less travelled, and the road not taken is one of the great metaphors for reflection, regret, wistfulness or any other prompt for that unsettling question, "what if". What if I had chosen differently; what if I hadn't met this person; what if I had turned down the other job; what if I'd reacted differently; what if I'd shut up and listened. This can get really odd though – what if my mother and father had never met? What if I'd been born 6 foot tall – this is an impartial example, not a real regret – I like being small!

My mother used to mock the 'what if' approach to life – with that mixture of Scottish commonsense and wry humour, "Well, if we'd ham we'd have ham and eggs, if we'd eggs", was her demoilition job on facing life's difficulties with a wish list. What that photo above teaches this man with a camera is that looking back, with apologies to Lot's wife, is sometimes as important as looking forward. And looking back honestly and humbly, the truth is we seldom see clearly the path we have taken, and even less clearly our motives and reasons for decisions, choices, steps taken on that road. The how and why we have come to this place in our lives we are convinced we remember well – but then memory is selective, partial, and as time and years pass, elusive. Sometimes it isn't the road not taken that makes us wonder – it can also be the road taken, with all its unforeseen corners, wrong turnings, confusing choices, impulsive maneouvres, strange meetings, near things, cliff edges, and just to make this string of metaphors utterly contextual and contemporary, pot-holes.

Looking back along this stretch of road, to the edge of the Loch and beyond to the mountains, with the road disappearing round the corner and the shaded and sunlit trees arching over it, I am OK with the journey so far. Would I have chosen differently – yes, maybe, sometimes. Were there wrong turnings – how can we know that? Would I wish some things to have been otherwise – oh I think so, I've never been able to say 'I'd never change a thing.' The two modern secular anthems, 'I Did It My Way' and 'Je ne regret rien' are way too arrogant for me to sing them – sometimes the things I regret are those things where I did it my way!!

But what I like about that photo is the impossibility of the camera retracing my steps, the acceptance that past is past, that there are corners I can neither see round nor retrace steps towards. What I also see is beauty, distance, lancing sunlight, and green shaded shadow. And for all that, some small glimmer of what the Psalmist meant when he said "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life." Looking back I say that too, with varying proportions of gratitude and hopefulness, and I hope, with enough humility to acknowledge the privilege and gift that is the wonder of my life.

2 July 2013