Hope

This month changes to the primary school curriculum in England were announced which would teach children how to live “happy and healthy lives”. Earlier in 2008, responding to a study in the United States which found that teenage children who had been taught “positive psychology” performed better at school, the Work and Pensions Secretary, James Purnell said:

"Wellbeing has gone from being a new and interesting idea to becoming a
mainstream idea in policy, embraced by politicians of all stripes."

The Government, it appears, is taking seriously the issue of wellbeing and “happiness” and using it to inform policymaking, particularly within education. Happiness – the state of well-being – can be an indicator of the health of a nation. Therefore our communal thirst for happiness is entirely consistent with what it means to be human. Christian faith calls this hope. And what makes us happy or hopeful must therefore continue to be a matter of keen interest to a society in search of meaning and meaningful existence.

This hope remains firmly on God’s agenda too. In our preparations for the year ahead, this Christmas we might pause to reflect on our response to God’s eternal and beautiful plan for our happiness. As the light of our trust in the economy flickers under the strain of a looming recession, God’s eternal promise of hope shines strong and bright.

Eyes to see

Have you ever met anyone who can see deep into your soul? I’ve met two women recently who have such a strong spiritual presence - a resonating, reverberating stillness – that I have felt immediately compelled to tell them everything about myself. I’ve felt unmasked by their eyes that peer deep into my soul and examine my innermost thoughts. Compelled to reveal myself, I suppose before they reveal me. Compelled to be honest, completely unveil myself because I know they can see straight past the mask I wear everyday. Their very presence makes me stutter, I feel unnerved yet strangely liberated by this urgency to unburden myself.

And we were thankful

I celebrated Thanksgiving, that All American ritual with good friends yesterday. We sat around the dining table and listened to our American sisters regale stories of Thanksgiving ceremony in their home country. And we were thankful. We ate turkey and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes with marshmallows and apple and pumpkin pies. And we were thankful. We laughed until our bellies ached and our eyes streamed. And we were thankful. As we shared the thing we were most thankful to God for, I was struck that this, this very meeting of close friends, food and fun was what I was extremely thankful for. In the city that has this week been labelled one of the loneliest places to live in the UK, I was very thankful indeed that I was surrounded by friends and a community who are committed to one another and united in our belief that there is much to be thankful to God for, even in this lonely city.

You belong to me

The other day I was sitting in an espresso bar in London’s West End and a Chinese couple by the window caught my eye. He fed her a spoonful of the froth from his cappuccino on a dainty teaspoon. She nodded appreciatively. Later they stood and walked towards me at the back on the way to the toilets. His hand guided her pregnant form through the cafe. They descended and then reappeared a few minutes later. My initial reaction was “How thoughtful he is – a caring, gentle, protective man”. As the tune on the café soundtrack changed I was struck by its lyric “You belong to me”. What a fine line it is between protection and possession. How delicate the balance between love and control.

How am I to interpret the couple’s behaviour? Was the man warm and loving in his care or was he exerting his possession of his wife and unborn child? These sorts of questions of gender and belonging constantly spin in my mind as I renegotiate what it is to be a woman of God, working in a feminist-yet-not work environment.

The fact of the matter is that we don’t belong to anyone but God. Husbands, employers, parents or children may lay claim to our possession but deep down we don’t belong to them. We don’t even belong to ourselves. This is one of my favourite quotes which sums this up perfectly:

What we are is God’s gift to us.
What we become is our gift to God.
(Eleanor Powell)